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diff --git a/old/53868-0.txt b/old/53868-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index f41fb2f..0000000 --- a/old/53868-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11118 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Helen Ford, by Horatio Alger Jr. - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Helen Ford - -Author: Horatio Alger Jr. - -Release Date: January 2, 2017 [EBook #53868] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HELEN FORD *** - - - - -Produced by Richard Tonsing, David Edwards and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - HELEN FORD. - - - BY HORATIO ALGER, JR., - - AUTHOR OF “RAGGED DICK,” “TATTERED TOM,” “LUCK AND PLUCK,” ETC., ETC. - - - THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO., - PHILADELPHIA, CHICAGO, TORONTO. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1866, by - A. K. LORING, - In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court for the District of - Massachusetts. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - HELEN FORD. - - - - - CHAPTER I. - IN SEARCH OF LODGINGS. - - -Not many minutes walk from Broadway, situated on one of the cross -streets intersecting the great thoroughfare, is a large building not -especially inviting in its aspect, used as a lodging and boarding-house. -It is very far from fashionable, since, with hardly an exception, those -who avail themselves of its accommodations belong to the great class who -are compelled to earn their bread before they eat it. Mechanics, -working-men, clerks on small salaries, seamstresses, and specimens of -decayed gentility, all find a place beneath its roof, forming a somewhat -miscellaneous assemblage. It must not be supposed, however, that perfect -equality exists even here. It is often remarked, that social -distinctions are more jealously maintained in the lower ranks than in -the higher. Here, for instance, Alphonso Eustace, a dashing young clerk, -who occupies the first floor front, looks down with _hauteur_ upon the -industrious mechanic, who rooms in the second story back. Mademoiselle -Fanchette, the fashionable _modiste_, occupying the second story front, -considers it beneath her dignity to hold much intercourse with Martha -Grey, the pale seamstress, whose small room at the head of the third -landing affords a delightful prospect of the back yard. Even the -occupants of the fourth story look down, which indeed their elevated -position enables them to do, upon the basement lodgers across the way. - -Mother Morton is the presiding genius of the establishment. She is a -stout, bustling woman, of considerable business capacity; one of those -restless characters to whom nothing is so irksome as want of occupation, -and who are never more in their element than when they have a world of -business on their hands, with little time to do it in. - -Mrs. Morton is a widow, having with characteristic despatch, hustled her -husband out of the world in less than four years from her wedding-day. -Shortly afterwards, being obliged to seek a subsistence in some way, -good luck suggested the expediency of opening a boarding-house. Here at -length she found scope for her superabundant energies, and in the course -of seventeen years had succeeded in amassing several thousand dollars, -in the investment of which she had sought advice from no one, but acted -according to the dictates of her own judgment. These investments, it -must be acknowledged, proved to have been wisely made, affording a -complete refutation, in one case at least, of the assertion often made, -that women have no business capacity. - -Why Mrs. Morton should have had the title of mother, so generally -conferred upon her, is not quite clear. She had never been blessed with -children. It might have been her ample proportions, for Nature had -moulded her when in a generous mood; but at all events for many years, -she had been best known by the name of Mother Morton. - -Our landlady required promptness on the part of her lodgers in the -payment of their bills. She had no mercy on those whom she suspected of -fraudulent intentions. In such cases she had but one remedy, and that a -most efficacious one,—immediate ejectment. When, however, no such design -was suspected, and failure to make the regular payment proceeded from -sickness or misfortune, she had been known to manifest great kindness -and consideration. When, for example—Martha Grey, the young seamstress, -was stricken down by a fever, induced by over-work, Mother Morton -attended her faithfully during her illness, and, so far from making an -extra charge, even remitted her rent for the time she had been ill. - -With these preliminary words, our story begins. - -The dinner hour had passed. The last lingerer at the table had left the -scene of devastation, which he had contributed to make, and the -landlady, who superintended the clearing away, had just sent away the -last dish, when her attention was arrested by a faint ring of the -door-bell. Hastily adjusting her dress before the glass, she proceeded -to answer the summons in person. - -Opening the door, she saw standing before her a young girl of perhaps -fourteen, and a man, who, though but little over forty, looked nearly -ten years older. The little girl is mentioned first, for in spite of her -youth, and the filial relation which she bore to her companion, she was -the spokesman, and appeared to feel that the responsibility in the -present instance fell upon her. There was a curious air of protection in -her manner towards her father, as if the relationship between them were -reversed, and he were the child. - -“You have lodgings to let?” she said, in a tone of inquiry. - -“We’re pretty full, now,” said Mother Morton, looking with some -curiosity at the eager face of the young questioner. “All our best rooms -are taken.” - -“That makes no difference,” said the young girl; “about the best rooms, -I mean. We are not able to pay much.” - -She cast a glance at her father, who wore an abstracted look as if he -were thinking of some matter quite foreign to the matter in hand. -Catching her glance and thinking that an appeal was made to him, he -said, hurriedly, “Yes, my child, you are quite right.” - -“I wonder whether he’s in his right mind,” thought the practical Mrs. -Morton. “The little girl seems to be worth two of him.” - -“I have one room in the fourth story,” she said aloud, “which is now -vacant. It is rather small; but, if it will suit you, you shall have it -cheaper on that account.” - -“I should like to see it,” said the child. “Come, father,” taking him by -the hand, and leading him as if she were the elder; “we’re going up -stairs to look at a room which, perhaps, we may like well enough to -hire.” - -At the head of the fourth landing the landlady threw open a door, -revealing a small room, some twelve feet square, scantily provided with -furniture. Its dreariness was, in some measure, relieved by a good -supply of light,—there being two windows. - -The young girl was evidently accustomed to look on the bright side of -things; for, instead of spying out the defects and inconveniences of the -apartment, her face brightened, and she said, cheerfully, “Just what we -want, isn’t it, papa? See how bright and pleasant it is.” - -Thus applied to, her father answered, “Yes, certainly;” and relapsed -into his former abstraction. - -“I think,” said the young girl, addressing the landlady, “that we will -engage the room; that is,” she added, with hesitation, “if the rent -isn’t too high.” - -Mother Morton had been interested in the child’s behalf by the mingling -of frank simplicity and worldly wisdom, which she exhibited, and perhaps -not least by the quiet air of protection which she assumed towards her -father, for whom it was evident she entertained the deepest and most -devoted affection. An impulse, which she did not pause to question, led -her to name a rent much less than she had been accustomed to receive for -the room. - -“One dollar and seventy-five cents a week,” repeated the child. “Yes, -that is reasonable. I think we had better engage the room; don’t you, -papa?” - -“Eh?” - -“I think we had better engage this room at one dollar and seventy-five -cents a week.” - -“Oh, certainly,—that is, by all means, if you think best, my child. You -know I leave all such matters to you. I have so many other things to -think of,” he added, dreamily, raising his hand to his forehead. - -“Yes,” said the child, softly; “I know you have, dear papa.” - -“We’ll take the room,” she said to Mother Morton, whose curiosity -momentarily increased, “at the price you named, and will commence now, -if you have no objection.” - -“Oh, no; but your baggage. You will need to bring that.” - -“We have not much to bring. We shall get it to-morrow.” - -“You will board yourselves?” asked the landlady. - -“Yes, I shall cook. I am quite used to it,” was the grave reply. - -“At any rate you won’t feel like it to-night. I will send you up some -supper.” - -“Thank you,” said the child, her face lighting up gratefully; “I am sure -you are very kind,” and she held out her hand in instinctive -acknowledgment. - -If Mother Morton had before been prepossessed in her favor, this act, so -frank and child-like, completed the conquest of her heart. - -“I am very glad,” said she, quite enveloping in her own broad palm the -little hand which the child extended; “I am very glad, my dear child, -that you are going to live here. I think I shall like you.” - -“How kind you are!” said the child, earnestly. “Everybody is kind to -father and me;” and she turned towards her parent, who was gazing -abstractedly from the window. - -“Your father does not say much,” said Mrs. Morton, unable to repress her -curiosity. - -“He has a great deal on his mind,” said the child, lowering her voice, -and looking cautiously to see whether he heard her; but the report of a -pistol would scarcely have disturbed him, so profound seemed his -meditations. - -“Oh!” said the landlady, somewhat surprised; “business, is it?” - -“No,” said the child; “not exactly business.” - -Observing that the landlady looked thoroughly mystified, she added, -quietly, “Papa has a great genius for inventing. He is going to make a -discovery that will give him money and fame. He is thinking about it all -the time, and that is the reason he doesn’t say much. I wish he wouldn’t -think quite so much, for I am afraid it will hurt him.” - -Mother Morton looked at the father with a sudden accession of respect. - -“Perhaps there is something in him, after all,” she thought. “There must -be, or this little girl, who has a great deal more sense than many that -are older, wouldn’t believe in him so firmly. I suppose he’s a genius. -I’ve heard of such, but I never saw one before. I must think well of him -for the child’s sake.” - -“I hope your father’ll succeed,” she said aloud, “for your sake, my -child. I am going down stairs now. Is there anything you would like to -have sent up?” - -“Nothing, thank you.” - -“One thing more. Your names, please?” - -“My father’s name is Robert Ford. My name is Helen.” - -“Good afternoon, Helen. I hope you will like your room.” - -“Thank you; I am quite sure I shall.” - -The landlady descended the stairs, wondering a little at the sudden -liking she began to feel for her young lodger. - - - - - CHAPTER II. - THE DREAMER. - - -The light of a June morning lent a warm and cheerful look to the broad -streets, and under its influence even the dingy lanes and alleys looked -a little less gloomy than usual. The spell which had lain upon the city -during the night season was broken. Here and there might be seen a -vegetable cart or a milk wagon rumbling through the streets, of late so -silent and deserted. Sleepy clerks unlocked the shops and warehouses, -and swept them in readiness for the business of the day. Hackmen betook -themselves to the steamboat landings in the hope of obtaining a fare -before breakfast. Creeping out from beneath old wagons and stray corners -where they had been able to procure shelter and lodging, came the -newsboys, those useful adjuncts to our modern civilization. Little time -wasted they on the duties of the toilet, but shook themselves wide -awake, and with the keen instinct of trade, hurried to the newspaper -offices to secure their pile of merchandise. - -Morning found no sluggards at Mrs. Morton’s boarding-house. With the -first flush of dawn she was astir, ordering about her servants, and -superintending the preparations for breakfast. This must be ready at an -early hour, since her boarders were, for the most part, engaged in some -daily avocation which required their early attention. - -With the early sun Helen rose. Her father was still sleeping. From the -nail on which it hung she took down her bonnet, and, with a tin pail -depending from her arm, she left the room with softened tread, lest she -might awaken her father. Betaking herself to a baker’s near by, she -bought a couple of loaves of bread, and stopping a milkman, had her pail -filled with milk. A half-pound of butter purchased at a grocery -completed her simple marketing, and she hastened home. - -When she entered the boarding-house, her cheeks were flushed with -exercise, her eyes sparkled with a pleasant light, and her rare beauty, -despite her plain attire, appeared to unusual advantage. She returned -just in time to meet the boarders descending to breakfast. Her childish -beauty did not fail to attract attention. Conscious of being observed, -Helen blushed a deeper crimson, which added to the charm of her beauty. - -“Hey! What have we here?” exclaimed Alphonso Eustace, the dashing young -clerk, fixing a glance of undisguised admiration upon her embarrassed -face. “A very Peri, by Jove! Deign to inform me, fair maid, by what name -thou art known.” - -So saying, he purposely placed himself directly in her path. - -“Will you let me pass, sir?” said Helen, uneasily. “My father is waiting -for me.” - -“Your father! Then you live here. I am glad of that. We shall be well -acquainted before long, I hope. Won’t you tell me your name?” - -“My name is Helen Ford,” said the child, rather reluctantly, for the -clerk did not impress her favorably. - -“And mine is Alphonso Eustace. Let us shake hands to our better -acquaintance.” - -“I have both hands full,” returned Helen, who did not much relish the -freedom of her new acquaintance. - -“Then I will await another opportunity. But you don’t seem gracious, my -dear. You must be very tired, carrying that heavy pail. Allow me to -carry it for you.” - -“I am not at all tired, and I would much rather carry it myself.” - -Helen managed to slip by, much to her relief, and somewhat to the -discomfiture of the young clerk, who could not conceal from himself that -his overtures had met with a decided rebuff. - -“Never mind,” thought he; “we shall be better acquainted by and by.” - -“By the way, Mrs. Morton,” he inquired, “tell me something about the -little fairy I met on the stairs. I tried to scrape acquaintance with -her, but she gave me very short answers.” - -“I suppose it was Helen Ford,” returned the landlady. “She is a little -fairy, as you say. Is your coffee right, M’lle Fanchette?” - -“Quite right,” replied that lady, sipping it. “What room do the little -girl and her father occupy?” - -“The fourth story back.” - -“Ah, indeed!” said M’lle Fanchette, elevating her eyebrows. It was easy -to see that lodging in the fourth story back was sufficient in her eyes -to stamp Helen as one whose acquaintance it was quite beneath her -dignity to cultivate. - -“She has a very sweet, attractive face,” said Martha Grey. - -“Beautiful! angelic!” exclaimed Mr. Eustace, with enthusiasm. - -“I don’t see anything very beautiful or angelic about her,” remarked -M’lle Fanchette, who would much prefer to have had her dashing -neighbor’s admiration bestowed upon herself. - -“You should have seen the beautiful flush upon her cheeks.” - -“So I did.” - -“And did you not admire it?” - -“I happened to look into the kitchen yesterday,” returned M’lle -Fanchette, passing her plate for some toast, “and I saw Bridget who had -been over the hot stove all day, with just such a pair of red cheeks. -Did I admire her?” - -There was a momentary silence. All who had seen Helen, felt the -injustice of the comparison. - -“There is no accounting for tastes,” interrupted the landlady, somewhat -indignantly. “If you had seen the tenderness with which she waits upon -her father, who, poor man, seems quite incapable of taking care of -himself, you would find that she has a heart as beautiful as her face. -Her beauty is not her only attraction.” - -“What does her father do?” - -“That is more than I can tell. Helen says that he is an inventor, and -that he has made some discovery which is going to make them rich.” - -“After all,” thought M’lle Fanchette, “it may be well to notice her. But -they are poor now?” she said aloud. - -“Yes. They seem to have little baggage, and dress quite plainly. They -cannot have much property.” - -Meanwhile, Helen, quite unconscious that she had been a subject of -discussion among the boarders, drew out the table into the middle of the -room, and spread over it a neat white cloth. She then placed upon it two -bowls of different sizes into which she poured the milk. Several slices -were cut from one of the loaves and laid on a plate. Near by stood the -butter. These simple preparations being concluded, she called upon her -father to partake. - -“You are a good girl, Helen,” said he, rousing for the moment from his -fit of abstraction. “You are a good girl, and I don’t know how I should -get along without you.” - -“And I am sure I could not get along without you, papa,” was her reply, -accompanied with a glance of affection. - -“Have you not always cared for me, Helen, and given up the society of -those of your own age in order to minister to my comfort? But it shall -not always be so. Some day I shall be rich——” - -“When you have completed your invention, papa.” - -“Yes, when that is completed,” said her father, earnestly. “Then we -shall be rich and honored, and my Helen shall be dressed in silks, and -ride in a carriage of her own.” - -“You are quite sure you shall succeed, papa?” - -“I am sure of it,” he answered, in a tone of quiet conviction. “I only -fear that some one will be beforehand with me, and snatch away the honor -for which I am toiling. To me it seems passing strange that mankind -should have been content for so many years to grope about upon the earth -and never striven to rise into the nobler element of the air, while the -sea, which presents difficulties as great, is traversed in every part. -For me,” he continued, assuming a loftier mien, and pacing the small -room proudly,—“for me it remains to open a new highway to the world. -What compared with this will be the proudest triumphs of modern science? -How like a snail shall we regard the locomotive, which now seems a -miracle of swiftness! Borne aloft by the appliances which I shall -furnish, man will emulate the proud flight of the eagle. He will skim -over land and sea, and in his airy flight look down upon the monuments -of human skill and industry flitting before him, like the shifting -scenes of a panorama.” - -“It will be a glorious destiny,” said the child, “and how proud I shall -feel of you who have done all this!” - -“While we are speaking, time passes,” said the father. “I should be at -work even now. I must bring hither my implements without delay. Every -moment wasted before I attain my object, is not my loss, only, but the -world’s.” - -“Wait till I have cleared away the table, papa, and I will go with you.” - -This was speedily done, and the two descended the stairs, and went forth -into the busy streets hand in hand. Helen diligently cared for the -safety of her father, who, plunged into his usual abstraction, would -more than once have been run over by some passing vehicle but for her -guardianship. - - - - - CHAPTER III. - A HALF RECOGNITION. - - -The character of Robert Ford may be divined without much difficulty from -the glimpses which have already been given. He was an amiable man, but -strikingly deficient in those practical traits which usually mark our -countrymen and command success even under the most unpromising -circumstances. He was not a man to succeed in business, nor suited for -the rough jostling with the world which business men must expect. He -ought rather to have been a quiet scholar, and dreamed away long days in -his library,—“the world forgetting, by the world forgot.” Such would -have been his choice if his circumstances had been easy. Under the -pressure of necessity he had turned aside from the ordinary paths of -money-making to devote himself to a chimerical plan by which he hoped to -attain wealth and distinction. - -No man of a well balanced mind would have labored with such sanguine -expectations of success on a project so uncertain as the invention of a -flying machine. But Mr. Ford had not a well balanced mind. He was much -given to theorizing, and, like many amiable but obstinate persons, it -was as difficult to dislodge from his mind a purpose which had once -gained entrance there as to convert him by some miraculous -transformation into a sharp man of the world. Had he lived in the middle -ages it is very probable that his tastes and the habits of his mind -would have led him to devote himself to alchemy, or some other recondite -science, which would have consumed his time and money without any -adequate return. - -We will now suppose three months to have elapsed since the events -recorded in our first chapter; three months in which the flowers of June -had been exchanged for the fruits of September, and the mellow beauty of -autumn had succeeded the glory of early summer. - -During this time Helen has become an established favorite with all the -inmates except M’lle Fanchette, who yet, finding the tide of general -opinion against her, is content with privately stigmatizing the child as -an “upstart,” and a “forward hussy,” though in truth it would be -difficult to imagine anything more modest or retiring than her conduct. -She and her father still occupy the little room in the fourth story -back. Nothing has come of Mr. Ford’s invention yet, though he has filled -the room with strange, out-of-the-way appliances, wheels, and bits of -machinery, on which he labors day after day in the construction of his -proposed flying machine. His repeated failures have little effect in -damping his spirits. He has the true spirit of a discoverer, and is as -sanguine as ever of ultimate success. He has learned the difficult -lesson of patience. - -“With such an end in view,” he sometimes exclaims with enthusiasm, half -to himself, half to Helen, “what matter a few months or years! Rome was -not built in a day, nor is it to be expected that a discovery which is -to affect the whole world in its consequences, should be the result of a -few hours’ or days’ labor.” - -Helen, whose veneration for her father is unbounded, listens with the -fullest confidence, to his repeated assurances. It pains her to find -that others are more skeptical. Even Mother Morton who, though some find -her rough, is invariably kind to Helen, looks upon the father as a -visionary, since she has discovered the nature of his labors. She one -day intimated this to Helen. It was some time before the latter could -understand that a doubt was entertained as to her father’s success, and -when the conviction came slowly, it brought such an expression of pain -to her face, that the landlady resolved never in future to venture upon -an allusion which should grieve the child, whom she could not but love -the better for her filial trust and confidence. - -Meanwhile the rent of the apartment which they occupy, and the cost of -living, simple as is their fare, have sensibly diminished their scanty -supply of money. This Helen, who is the steward and treasurer, cannot -help seeing, and she succeeds in obtaining work from the slop-shops. Her -father does not at first discover this. One day, however, he said -abruptly, as if the idea had for the first time occurred to him, “Helen, -you always seem to be sewing, lately.” - -The child cast down her eyes in some embarrassment. - -“You cannot be sewing so much for yourself,” continued her father. “Why, -what is this?” taking a boy’s vest from her reluctant fingers. “Surely, -this is not yours.” - -“No, papa,” answered Helen, laughing; “you don’t think I have turned -Bloomer, do you?” - -“Then what does it mean?” questioned her father, in real perplexity. - -“Only this, papa, that being quite tired of sitting idle, and having -done all my own sewing, I thought I might as well fill up the time, and -earn some money at the same time by working for other people. Is that -satisfactory?” she concluded, playfully. - -“Surely this was not necessary,” said Mr. Ford, with pain. “Are we then -so poor?” - -“Do not be troubled, papa,” said Helen, cheerfully. “We could get along -very well without it; but I wanted something to do, and it gives me some -pocket-money for myself. You must know that I am getting extravagant.” - -“Is that all?” said her father, in a tone of relief, the shadow passing -from his face. “I am glad of it. I could not bear to think of my little -Helen being compelled to work. Some day,” passing his hands fondly over -her luxuriant curls; “some day she shall have plenty of money.” - -This thought incited him to fresh activity, and with new zeal he turned -to the odd jumble of machinery in the corner. - -The evening meal was studiously simple and frugal, though Helen could -not resist the temptation of now and then purchasing some little -delicacy for her father. He was so abstracted that he gave little heed -to what was set before him, and never noticed that Helen always -abstained from tasting any luxury thus procured, confining herself -strictly to the usual frugal fare. - -After tea it was the custom for father and daughter to walk out, -sometimes in one direction sometimes in another. Often they would walk -up Broadway, and Helen, at least, found amusement in watching the -shifting scenes which present themselves to the beholder in that crowded -thoroughfare. Life in all its varieties, from pampered wealth to squalid -poverty, too often the fruit of a mis-spent life jostled each other upon -the sidewalk, or in the street. The splendid equipage dashes past the -humble handcart; the dashing buggy jostles against the loaded dray. -Broadway is no exclusive thoroughfare. In the shadow of the magnificent -hotel leans the foreign beggar, just landed on our shores, and there is -no one to bid him “move on.” The shop windows, too, are a free “World’s -Fair Exhibition,” constantly changing, never exhausted. Helen and her -father had just returned from a leisurely walk, taken at the close of a -day of labor and confinement, and paused to rest for a moment on the -west side of the Park. - -While they were standing there, a handsome carriage drove past. Within -were two gentlemen. One was already well advanced in years, as his gray -hairs and wrinkled face made apparent. He wore an expression of -indefinable sorrow and weariness, as if life had long ago ceased to have -charms for him. His companion might be somewhat under forty. He was tall -and spare, with a dark, forbidding face, which repelled rather than -attracted the beholder. - -As the carriage neared the Park, the elder of the two looked out to rest -his gaze, wearied with the sight of brick and stone, upon the verdure of -this inclosure. This, be it remembered, was twenty years since, before -the Park had so completely lost its fresh country look. He chanced to -see Mr. Ford and Helen. He started suddenly in visible agitation. - -“Look, Lewis!” he exclaimed, clutching the arm of his companion, and -pointing to Mr. Ford. - -The younger man started almost imperceptibly, and his face paled, but he -almost instantly recovered himself. - -“Yes,” he said, carelessly; “the Park is looking well.” - -“Not that, not that,” said the old man, hurriedly. “That man with the -little girl. He is,—he must be Robert, my long-lost son. Stop the -carriage. I must get out.” - -“My dear uncle,” expostulated the younger man, who had been addressed as -Lewis, “you are laboring under a strange hallucination. This man does -not in the least resemble my cousin. Besides, you remember that we have -undoubted proof of his death in Chicago two years since.” - -“You may be right,” said the old man, as he sank back into his seat with -a sigh, “but the resemblance was wonderful.” - -“But, uncle, let me suggest that more than fifteen years have passed -away since my cousin left home, and even if he were living, he must have -changed so much that we could not expect to recognize him.” - -“Perhaps you are right, Lewis; and yet, when I looked at that man, I was -startled by a look that brought before me my dead wife,—my precious -Helen. I fear I have dealt harshly with her boy.” - -He relapsed into a silence which his companion did not care to disturb. -He watched guardedly the expression of the old man, and a close observer -might have detected a shade of anxiety, as if there were something -connected with his uncle’s present mood which alarmed him. After a short -scrutiny he himself fell into thought, and as we are privileged to read -what is concealed from all else, we will give the substance of his -reflections. - -“Here is a new danger to be guarded against, just at the most critical -time, too. Shall I never attain the object of my wishes? Shall I never -be paid for the years in which I have danced attendance upon my uncle? I -_must_ succeed by whatever means. He cannot last much longer.” - -The evident weakness of his uncle seemed to justify his prediction. He -looked like one whose feet are drawing very near the brink of that -mysterious river which it is appointed to all of us at some time to -cross. - - - - - CHAPTER IV. - A GLANCE BACKWARDS. - - -It was growing late. Night had drawn its sombre veil over the great -city, and the streets, a little while before filled with busy -passers-by, now echoed but seldom to the steps of an occasional -wayfarer. The shops were closed, the long day assigned to trade being -over. To plodding feet and busy brains, to frames weary with exhausting -labor, to minds harassed by anxious cares, night came in friendly guise, -bringing the rest and temporary oblivion of sleep. - -From a small building in a by-street, or rather lane, which nevertheless -was not far removed from the main thoroughfare, there gleamed a solitary -candle, emitting a fitful glare, which served, so far as it went, to -give a very unfavorable idea of the immediate vicinity. Within, a young -man, painfully thin, was seated at a low table, engrossing a legal -document. The face was not an agreeable one. The prevailing expression -was one of discontent and weak repining. He was one who could complain -of circumstances without having the energy to control them; born to be a -subordinate of loftier and more daring intellects. - -He wrote with rapidity and, at the same time, with scrupulous elegance. -He was evidently a professional copyist. - -After bending over his writing for a time, during which he was rapidly -approaching the completion of his task, he at length threw aside the -pen, exclaiming, with an air of relief, “At last it is finished! Thank -Heaven! that is,” he added, after a slight pause, “if there be such a -place, which I am sometimes inclined to doubt. Finished; but what after -all is a single day’s work? To-night I may sleep in peace, but to-morrow -the work must begin once more. It is like a tread-mill, continually -going round, but making no real progress. I wish,” he resumed, after a -slight pause, “there were some way of becoming suddenly rich, without -this wear and tear of hand and brain. I don’t know that I am so much -surprised at the stories of those who, in utter disgust of labor, have -sold themselves to the arch fiend. Why should I have been born with such -a keen enjoyment of luxuries, and without the means of obtaining them? -Why should I be doomed——” - -When discontent had thus opened the way for its favorable reception, -temptation came. - -There was a knock at the door. - -Thinking it might be some strolling vagabond who, in his intoxication, -was wandering he knew not whither, he did not at first respond, but -waited till it should be repeated. - -It was repeated, this time with a considerable degree of force. - -The young man approached the door, but feeling apprehensive that it -might prove to be some unwelcome visitor, he paused before drawing the -bolt, and called out, in a voice marked by a tremulous quaver, for he -possessed but little physical courage, “Who are you that come here at -such an unseasonable hour? Unless I know your name, I shall not let you -in.” - -“Don’t be alarmed, Jacob,” was the reply. “It is only I, Lewis Rand. -Open at once, for I come on business which must be quickly despatched.” - -The explanation was evidently satisfactory, for the scrivener in eager -haste opened the door, and admitted his visitor. It was the younger of -the two men upon whom the chance meeting with Helen and her father -seemed to have produced an impression so powerful. Jacob, though well -acquainted with him, was evidently surprised at his presence at an hour -so unseasonable, for he exclaimed, in a tone of mingled surprise and -deference, “You here, Mr. Rand, and at this time of night! It must be -something important which has called you at an hour when most men are -quietly sleeping in their beds.” - -“Yet you are up, Jacob, and at work, as I conjecture,” said the visitor, -pointing to the table on which the completed sheets were still lying. - -“True,” said the copyist, for this recalled to him the grounds of his -discontent; “but I must work while others sleep, or accept a worse -alternative. Sometimes I am tempted to give up the struggle. You have -never known what a hard taskmaster poverty is.” - -“Perhaps not,” returned the other; “but I can testify that the -apprehension of poverty is not less formidable. However, I can perhaps -lend you a helping hand, since the business on which I come, if -successfully carried out, of which with your co-operation I have strong -hopes, will prove so important to me that I shall be able to put a -better face upon your affairs.” - -“Ah!” said the young man, with suddenly awakening interest; “what may it -be? I will gladly give you all the aid in my power.” - -“Jacob,” said his visitor, fixing his eyes steadily upon the scrivener, -“you know there is an old maxim, ‘Nothing venture, nothing have.’ In -other words, he who aims to be successful in his undertakings, must not -scruple to employ the means best suited to advance his interests, even -though they may involve the _possibility_ of disaster to himself. Do you -comprehend my meaning?” - -“Not entirely. At least, I need to be informed of the connection between -what has just been said and the service you require at my hands.” - -“You shall presently know. But first promise me solemnly that what I may -say, and any proposition which I may make to you to-night, shall forever -remain a secret between us two.” - -The scrivener made the required promise, though his wonder was not a -little excited by the extraordinary language and significant tone of his -companion. - -“I promise,” he said. “You may proceed. I am ready.” - -“You are quite alone, I suppose,” said Lewis, inquiringly. “There is no -fear of eavesdroppers?” - -“Not the least,” replied Jacob, muttering to himself in an undertone, -“Margaret must be fast asleep, I think. You need be under no -apprehensions,” he said, aloud. “We shall not be disturbed.” - -At this moment a small clock over the mantel struck two. - -“Two o’clock!” exclaimed Lewis. “I had not supposed it so late. However, -it is perhaps better, since we are the safer from interruption. You are -somewhat acquainted,” he continued, “with the position in which I stand -to my uncle. For years I have been his constant companion, the slave of -his whims and caprices, depriving myself of more agreeable and congenial -society, in order to maintain my hold upon his affections, and secure -the inheritance of his large property. No son would have done as much as -I have. And now, when half my life is gone, and the realization of my -hopes is apparently near at hand, an incident has occurred, which -threatens to disarrange all my plans, and defraud me of all but a tithe -of that which I have so long looked upon as my sure inheritance.” - -“Surely, your uncle has no nearer relatives than yourself!” exclaimed -Jack, in surprise. - -“That is what the world thinks, but they are deceived. My uncle has a -son, and that son has a daughter. You see, therefore, that there is no -lack of heirs. But you need an explanation. - -“My father died when I was not quite five years of age. He was what is -called a gay man, and spent freely what property he possessed, in -extravagant living, and, lest that might not prove sufficient, he lost -large sums at the gaming table. He died in an affair of honor which grew -out of a dispute with one of his gambling acquaintances, leaving, as my -inheritance, a few debts and nothing more. But for my uncle I should -have been thrown upon the cold charities of the world. Fortunately for -me, my uncle had none of his brother’s vices, and had preserved his -property intact, so that when need came, he was able to stretch forth a -helping hand to his nephew. - -“I can remember the day when I became an inmate of my uncle’s household. -I did not mourn much for my father, who seldom took any notice of me. -Child as I was, I understood that his death, in consigning me to my -uncle’s care, had left me better off than before. - -“I was nearly five, as I have said. My uncle had a son,—but one,—who was -two years my senior. So my cousin Robert and I grew up together. -Although we were treated in every respect alike, having the same tutors, -the same wardrobe, and even sharing the same room, I cannot remember a -time when I did not hate him. There was nothing in his manner or his -treatment of me that should lead to this, I acknowledge. He always -treated me as a brother, and I suffered not a word or a gesture, not -even a look, to indicate that I did not regard him in the same light. -You will perhaps wonder at my aversion. It is easily explained. Although -our treatment was the same, I soon learned that our prospects were very -different. I soon became aware that he, as heir of his father’s wealth, -already considerable and rapidly increasing, was considered, by many, a -far more important personage than myself. Notwithstanding my uncle’s -indulgence to me, I well knew that his pride, and a certain desire, -inherited from his English ancestors, that his estate should be handed -down entire from generation to generation, would receive anything beyond -a moderate annuity. I could not brook my cousin’s superior prospects, -and determined to injure him with my uncle, if an opportunity offered. - -“The opportunity came. My cousin fell in love with a beautiful girl, -who, but for her poverty, would have attracted me also. This, however, -proved an insuperable obstacle. I waited until the attachment had -ripened into the most ardent affection, and then I made it known to my -uncle with all the embellishments which I thought best calculated to -arouse his irritation. The object of my cousin’s attachment I described -as an awkward country-girl, without cultivation or refinement. It was a -heavy blow to my uncle’s pride, for he had nourished high hopes for his -son, and aspired to an alliance with a family as old and distinguished -as his own. In the exasperation of the moment he summoned Robert to him, -and peremptorily insisted on his at once giving up his attachment, -stigmatizing the object of it in such terms as I had employed in -describing her. My cousin’s spirit was naturally roused by such manifest -injustice, and he refused to accede to his father’s wishes. The -discussion was a stormy one, and terminated as I hoped and believed it -would. My cousin went forth from the house, disowned and disinherited, -and I remained, filling his place as heir.” - -Jacob surveyed the speaker with a glance of admiration. He paid homage -to a rascality which surpassed his own. He admired his craftiness and -address, while his want of principle did not repel him. - -“What became of your cousin?” inquired the scrivener, after a pause. - -“He married and went out West. He possessed a small property inherited -from his mother, and this enabled him to live in a humble way. I have -heard little of him since, except that he had but one child, a daughter, -who must now be not far from fourteen years old. This I learned from a -letter of her father’s which I intercepted.” - -“Has your uncle ever shown any symptoms of relenting?” asked Jacob. - -“Two years ago he was very sick and it was thought he might die. During -that sickness he referred so often to his son that I began to tremble -for my prospective inheritance. I accordingly procured a notice of his -death to be inserted in a Chicago paper, which I took care to show my -uncle. The authenticity of this he never dreamed of doubting, and I felt -that my chances were as good as ever. But within the last week a fact -has come to my knowledge which fills me with alarm.” - -The copyist looked up inquiringly. - -“It is this,” resumed Lewis. “Not only is my cousin living, but he is in -this city. Furthermore my uncle has seen him, and but for my solemn -assurance that he was mistaken, and my recalling to his recollection -that Robert’s death was well attested, he would have taken immediate -measures for finding him out. If found, he would be at once reinstated -in his birthright, and I should be reduced to the position of a humble -dependent upon my uncle’s bounty.” - -“But you have escaped the danger, and all is well again.” - -“By no means. Notwithstanding my representation, my uncle clings -obstinately to the belief that either he or some child of his may be -living, and only yesterday caused a new will to be drawn up, leaving the -bulk of his estate to his son or his son’s issue; and, failing these, to -me. You will readily see how I stand affected by this. Of course in the -event of my cousin’s death a search will be immediately instituted for -my cousin and his daughter, and being in the city they will probably be -found.” - -“Your prospects are certainly not of the most encouraging character,” -said Jacob, after a pause. “But, if I may venture to inquire, what -assurance have you that such is the tenor of your uncle’s will?” - -“This,” replied Rand, taking from a side-pocket a piece of parchment -tied with a blue ribbon, and leisurely unrolling it. Jacob watched his -movements with curiosity. - -“This,” said he, bending a searching glance upon the scrivener, as if to -test his fidelity; “this is my uncle’s will.” - -The copyist could not repress a start of astonishment. - -“The will!” he exclaimed. “How did you obtain possession of it?” - -Lewis smiled. - -“It was for my interest,” he said briefly, “to learn the contents of -this document, and I therefore made it my business to find it. You see -that I have been successful. Read it.” - -The copyist drew the lamp nearer, and read it slowly and deliberately. - -“Yes,” said he, at length, looking up thoughtfully; “the contents are as -you have described. May I ask what it is your intention to do about it, -and what is the service I am to render you?” - -“Can you not guess?” demanded his visitor, fixing his eyes meaningly -upon him. - -“No,” returned the scrivener, a little uneasily; “I cannot.” - -“You are skilful with the pen, exceedingly skilful,” resumed Lewis, -meaningly. “Indeed, there has been a time when this accomplishment came -near standing you in good stead, though it might also have turned to -your harm.” - -Jacob winced. - -“Ah!” pursued the visitor, “I see you have not forgotten a little -occurrence in the past, when, but for my intervention, you might -have been convicted of—shall I say it?—forgery. You need not thank -me. I never do anything without a motive. I don’t believe in -disinterestedness. The idea struck me even at that time that I might -at some time have need of you.” - -“I am ready,” said Jacob, submissively. - -“That is well. What I want you to do is this. You must draw me up -another will as nearly like this as possible, except that the whole -estate shall be devised to me unconditionally. Well, man, what means -that look of alarm?” - -“It will be very dangerous to both of us,” faltered the copyist. - -“It will be a forgery, I admit,” said Lewis, calmly; “but what is there -in that word, _forgery_, which should so discompose _you_? Did it ever -occur to you that the old charge might be renewed against you, when no -intervention of mine will avail to save you?” - -The copyist perceived the threat implied in those words, and hastened to -propitiate his visitor, of whom he seemed to stand in wholesome fear. - -“Nay,” said he, submissively, “you know best the danger to both of us.” - -“And I tell you, Jacob, there is none at all. You are so cunning with -the pen that you may easily defy detection, and for the rest, I will -take the hazard.” - -“And what will be the recompense?” inquired the scrivener. - -“Two hundred dollars as soon as the task is completed,” was the prompt -reply. “One thousand more when the success of the plan is assured.” - -Jacob’s eyes sparkled. To him the bribe was a fortune. - -“I consent,” he said; “give me the will. I must study it for a time to -become familiar with the handwriting.” - -He drew the lamp nearer and began to pore earnestly over the manuscript, -occasionally scrawling with the pen which he held in his hand an -imitation of some of the characters. It was a study for an artist,—those -two men,—each determined upon a wrong deed for the sake of personal -advantage. Lewis, with his cool, self-possessed manner, and the copyist, -with his ignoble features and nervous eagerness, divided between the -desire of gain and the fear of detection. - -All this time a woman’s eye might have been seen peering through a -slightly open door, and regarding with a careful glance all that was -passing. The two men were so intent upon the work before them that she -escaped their notice. - -“Oho,” said she to herself, “there shall be a third in the secret which -you fancy confined to yourselves. Who knows but it may turn out to my -advantage, some day? I will stay and see the whole.” - -She drew back silently, and took her position just behind the door, -where nothing that was said could escape her. - -Meanwhile Jacob, having satisfied himself that he could imitate the -handwriting of the will, commenced the task of copying. Half an hour -elapsed during which both parties preserved strict silence. At the end -of that time the copyist, with a satisfied air, handed Lewis the -manuscript he had completed. The latter compared the two with a critical -eye. Everything, including the names of the witnesses, was wonderfully -like. It was extremely difficult from the external appearance, to -distinguish the original from the copy. - -“You have done your work faithfully and well,” said Lewis, with evident -satisfaction, “and deserve great credit. You are wonderfully skilful -with the pen.” - -The copyist rubbed his hands complacently. - -“With this I think we need not fear detection. Here are the two hundred -dollars which I promised you. The remainder is contingent on my getting -the estate. I shall be faithful, in that event, to my part of the -compact.” - -Jacob bowed. - -“It must be very late,” said Lewis, drawing out his watch. “I am sorry -to have kept you up so late; but no doubt you feel paid. I must hasten -back.” - -He buttoned his coat, and went out into the street. A smile lighted up -his dark features as he speculated upon the probable success of his -plans. He felt not even a momentary compunction as he thought of the -means he had employed or the object he had in view. - -Meanwhile those whom he was conspiring to defraud were sleeping -tranquilly. - - - - - CHAPTER V. - THE PETTIFOGGER. - - -The legal profession numbers among its disciples a large class of -honorable and high-minded men; and it also includes some needy -adventurers well versed in the arts of pettifogging and chicanery, and -willing, for a consideration, to throw over the most discreditable -proceedings the mantle of the law, thus perverting, to the injury of the -public, that which was intended for its principal safeguard. - -Of this latter class was Richard Sharp, Banister, whose name might have -been read on the door of an exceedingly dirty little office not far from -Wall Street. Being under the necessity of introducing my reader to some -acquaintances and localities not altogether desirable I must trouble him -to enter Mr. Sharp’s office. - -In the centre of the office stands a table covered with green baize. -Scattered over it are diverse bundles tied with red tape, evidently -intended to give the unsophisticated visitor the impression that Mr. -Sharp’s business is in a most flourishing condition. Nevertheless, since -the novelist is permitted to see farther into the shams which he -describes than is accorded to others less privileged, it may be remarked -that these identical bundles have lain upon the table with no other -alteration than an occasional change of arrangement, ever since the -office was opened. - -The enterprising proprietor of the bundles aforesaid is smoking a cigar, -while reading the Morning Herald, and occasionally glancing out of the -window near by. His features would hardly justify the description of -“beauty in repose,” being deeply pitted with smallpox, which is not -usually thought to improve the appearance. His nose is large and -spreading at the base. His hair is deeply, darkly, beautifully red, -bristling like a cat’s fur when accidentally rubbed the wrong way. Add -to these a long, scraggy neck, and the reader has a tolerable idea of -Mr. Sharp as he sat in his office on the first day of October, 18—. - -How long he would have sat thus, if uninterrupted, is uncertain. His -meditations were broken in upon by a quick, imperative knock at the -door. The effect upon Mr. Sharp was electrical. He sprang from his seat, -tossed his cigar away, wheeled his chair round to the table, and drawing -a blank legal form towards him, knit his brows and began to write as if -life and death depended upon his haste. Meanwhile the visitor became -impatient and rapped again, this time more imperatively. - -“Come in,” called Mr. Sharp, in a deep bass voice, not raising his eyes -from the paper on which his pen was now scratching furiously. “Take a -seat; shall be at leisure in a moment,—full of business, you know,—can’t -get a moment’s rest.” - -When at length he found time to look up, he met the gaze of our recent -acquaintance, Lewis Rand. The latter, who had penetration enough to see -through the lawyer’s artifice, smiled a little derisively. - -“It must be a satisfaction to you,” he said, rather dryly, “to find your -services in such request.” - -“Why, yes, ahem! yes,” said the lawyer, passing his fingers through his -bristling locks. “It is a satisfaction as you say, though I confess,” he -continued, with a dashing effrontery quite refreshing to contemplate, -“that sometimes when my labors are protracted far into the night, I feel -that business has its pains as well as pleasures, and cannot help -wishing that——” - -“That you had a partner to relieve you of a portion of your toils, you -doubtless mean to say,” interrupted Lewis, with a quizzical smile; for -he was quite aware that Mr. Sharp meant no such thing. “In that case I -know the very man for you; a young man just entered at the bar, very -promising, and bidding fair to distinguish himself in his profession. I -should be happy to serve both you and him. When shall I introduce him?” - -“Why,” said Sharp, in some embarrassment, for he knew to his cost that -his business was quite too limited to support himself, much less a -partner. “Why, you see, although my business is, as I said, very -driving, I do not at present think of taking a partner. The fact is, I -never enjoy myself more than when I am hard at work. It is an -idiosyncrasy of mine, if I may so express myself.” - -And Mr. Sharp looked up, thinking he had made a very clever evasion. - -“When I do conclude to take a partner, which the increase of my business -may at some time render absolutely necessary,” he added, graciously -inclining his head, “I will certainly think of your friend. Your -recommendation will be a sufficient guarantee of his ability.” - -“I feel deeply indebted to you for the confidence you express in my -judgment,” said Lewis, bowing, “particularly as I am a perfect stranger -to you. Such instances are rarely met with in a world like ours.” - -Mr. Sharp was not quite sure whether his visitor was not secretly -bantering him. He thought it best, however, to construe his meaning -literally. - -“I am not usually hasty in bestowing my confidence, Mr.—your name -escaped me.” - -“I think I have not mentioned it.” - -“O ho, ahem! perhaps not,” continued Mr. Sharp, finding his little -artifice to obtain his visitor’s name ineffectual, “but as I was about -to say, I seldom give my confidence without good reason. I am—I may -say—somewhat skilled in physiognomy, and a cursory examination of the -features is sufficient, in ordinary cases, to enable me to form an -opinion of a person.” - -Mr. Sharp was fertile in expedients, and had an abundant share of -self-possession. - -“Perhaps we had better proceed to business,” said Lewis, abruptly. - -“Oh, by all means, sir, by all means?” returned Mr. Sharp, assuming a -brisk tone at the prospect of a client. “As I before remarked, I never -feel more completely in my element than when immersed in business. It is -an——” - -“If you will give me your attention for a few minutes,” pursued Lewis, -unceremoniously interrupting him, “I will endeavor to explain the nature -of the service I require.” - -Mr. Sharp bent forward, and assumed an attitude of the most earnest -attention. He nodded slightly, and screwed up his eyes, as if to -intimate that he was about to concentrate all his mental energies upon -the matter in hand. - -“You must know,” said Lewis, slowly, “that there are two persons living -in this city whose presence, in what way it is needless to specify, -conflict very seriously with my interests. It is my wish to bring some -motive to bear upon them which shall lead to their departure from the -city.” - -“I understand,” nodded Mr. Sharp, with an air of profound wisdom. “Go -on, my good sir.” - -“One difficulty, however, meets me at the outset,” continued Lewis; “I -do not know in what part of the city the two persons——” - -“Aforesaid,” prompted Mr. Sharp, nodding sagaciously. - -“Live,” concluded Lewis, not heeding the interpolation; “nor have I any -definite clew by which to find them.” - -“Can you describe these persons to me so that I may be able to identify -them?” - -“That is not easy, since one of them I have never seen but once, and the -other but once in fifteen years.” - -Mr. Sharp looked a little puzzled. - -“I can, however, tell you this much. One is a man of about forty, who -appears somewhat older. The other, his daughter, is a girl of fourteen, -or thereabouts. The former is a little absent in manner, or was formerly -so; the little girl, I should judge, is attractive in her personal -appearance.” - -“When did you last meet them?” inquired the lawyer. - -“One evening last week.” - -“And where?” - -“They were then leaning against the railing on the west side of the -Park.” - -“Can you tell at what hour?” - -“About six.” - -“Then it is quite possible that they may be found at the same place some -evening, at or near this hour. Very probably they are in the habit of -taking a walk at that time and in that direction. We are all creatures -of habit, and are apt to stick to the ruts we have made. Have you no -other clew by which I may be guided? It is quite likely that there are -others to whom the description you have given will apply. When you saw -them, in what manner were they dressed?” - -“I had but a brief glimpse, and do not feel altogether sure. The father -is as tall as yourself. I can tell you the girl’s name also; it is -Helen.” - -“And her father’s?” - -“I could tell you his real name, but as I have every reason to believe -that he has dropped it and assumed another, it will, perhaps, be -unnecessary. His Christian name is Robert.” - -“The first step, then,” said Mr. Sharp, reflectively, “is, of course, to -find these persons. This will be a matter of some difficulty, and may -require considerable time. I do not doubt, however, that I shall -ultimately be able to accomplish it. May I inquire whether they are in -good circumstances pecuniarily?” - -“Probably not. I presume their means are quite limited.” - -“So much the better.” - -“For what reason?” inquired Lewis, in some curiosity. - -“Simply this. You tell me you are desirous of removing them from the -city; if they are poor it will be much easier to offer an inducement -likely to weigh with them, than if they were in prosperous -circumstances.” - -“There is something in that, I admit, but if Robert is as proud as he -used to be in days gone by, such an attempt would avail but little. -However, there is no occasion to consider what further steps are to be -taken, till we have actually found them. That must be our first care.” - -“In that I shall endeavor to serve you. How and where shall I -communicate with you?” - -“I shall call upon you frequently. There may, however, be occasions when -it will be needful to communicate with me without delay. In such an -event, a note directed to L. Thornton, Box 1228, will reach me.” - -Mr. Sharp noted this address on a slip of paper, and bowed his client -out. - -There will of course be no difficulty in divining why Lewis considered -it detrimental to his interests that Helen and her father should remain -in the city. He was in constant alarm lest some accident should bring -together the father and son, who had for so long a time been separated -from each other. He was playing for a large stake, and was not -fastidious as to the means employed, provided they insured his success. -His visit to the copyist, and the bold forgery perpetrated with his -assistance, afforded sufficient evidence of this. He was disposed, -however, to use very prudent precaution. Why he was induced to call in -the co-operation of a needy, and well nigh briefless lawyer like Mr. -Sharp, may be gathered from the soliloquy in which he indulged on -leaving the office of the worthy attorney. - -“There’s a great deal of humbug about that fellow,” he said to himself, -“but he is quick-witted and unscrupulous—two qualities which adapt him -to my service. Again, he is poor, and not overburdened with business, so -that he will be the more likely to attach himself to my interests. -Things seem to be in a fair train. It is fortunate that my cousin does -not know of his father’s removal to this city; he doubtless imagines him -a hundred miles away. It is indispensable that I should not show myself -in this business, but leave everything to Sharp. When the property is -mine, I can bid my cousin defiance.” - -The wily nephew hastened to the bedside of his uncle, where, with -feigned solicitude, he inquired after his health. It is well for our -happiness that we cannot always read the hearts of those about us. How -hollow and empty would then seem some of the courtesies of life! - - - - - CHAPTER VI. - SO FAR, SO GOOD. - - -Lewis Rand had displayed his usual sagacity in selecting Mr. Sharp as -his agent in the affair which now occupied so large a share of his -attention. The worthy attorney was not particularly scrupulous, and the -thought that he was lending his aid to defraud, did not have the least -effect in disturbing Mr. Sharp’s tranquillity. Indeed, he considered it -a stroke of remarkably good luck that he should have secured so -promising a client, through whom his rather limited income was likely to -receive so important an accession. To do him justice he intended to -devote his best exertions to the case now in his hands, and insure the -success of his client if it could in any manner be compassed. - -For several evenings subsequent to the interview described in the last -chapter, Mr. Sharp found it convenient to walk for an hour or more -towards the close of the afternoon. Singularly enough he never varied -his promenade, always selecting the neighborhood of the Park. It was his -custom to walk slowly up and down, attentively scanning the different -groups that passed under his eye. But among the thousands who passed -him, he could for some time discover none that resembled the description -furnished by his client. - -It chanced that Helen and her father had suspended their walks for a few -days, in consequence of a slight indisposition on the part of the -latter. This, however, Mr. Sharp could not be expected to know. His -hopes of ultimate success diminished, and although he continued his -daily walks, he began to be apprehensive that they would result in -nothing. But one evening as he was glancing restlessly about him, his -eye fell upon a plainly-dressed man, above the middle height, but -stooping, walking hand in hand with a young girl. Their ages seemed to -correspond with those given by Lewis Rand. - -The thought flashed upon Mr. Sharp that these might be the two persons -of whom he was in search. Judging that they might let fall something in -their conversation which would decide the matter, he followed closely -behind them. But unluckily for the lawyer’s purpose, Mr. Ford was in one -of his not uncommon fits of abstraction, and maintained an unbroken -silence. - -Mr. Sharp pondered, and set his wits to work to devise some method by -which he could gain the information he desired. At length it occurred to -him that the little girl’s name was Helen, and this might help to -identify her. - -After a while Helen and her father slackened their pace. Mr. Sharp took -up a position behind them. Assuming an air of unconcern, he pronounced, -in a low tone, the word “Helen,” at the same time slipping dexterously -behind an old gentleman of somewhat aldermanic proportions who had just -come up. - -On hearing her name pronounced, Helen turned quickly around as Mr. Sharp -had anticipated. Her eyes rested on the grave features of the -respectable old gentleman before alluded to. He was not even looking at -her. Evidently it could not be he. She did not observe the somewhat -flashily attired gentleman behind, whose red locks contrasted so vividly -with the grayish white hat somewhat jauntily perched on the side of his -head. Supposing, therefore, that her ears must have deceived her, she -turned away. Her sudden movement, however, had not been unobserved by -the watchful eyes of the lawyer. - -“That must be she,” he said to himself. “She would scarcely have turned -round so quickly on hearing any other name than her own. That’s the -first link in the chain, Sharp. You’ve got a little to build upon now. -Now we’ll see how well you will succeed in following it up.” - -Mr. Sharp was in the habit of apostrophizing himself in such familiar -terms as “old fellow,” and would indulge in commendations, or otherwise, -of his conduct, as if of a second person. - -When Helen and her father left the spot, they were followed at a little -distance by the lawyer, whose object of course, was to ascertain where -they lived. His curiosity was gratified. Helen entered Mother Morton’s -boarding-house, quite unconscious that she had been followed. A rapid -glance satisfied Mr. Sharp of the name and number which were at once -transferred to his note-book. - -“So far, so good,” thought he, with inward satisfaction. “I must inform -my client forthwith, and then we can decide upon further steps.” - -So elated was Mr. Sharp by the discovery that he had made, that he -stepped into a saloon on Broadway, and indulged in potations so very -generous, that he narrowly escaped arrest by a policeman on the way -home. - -Helen, meanwhile, was becoming daily more and more troubled in mind. Her -father was so wrapped up in his model that he could think of nothing -else. To her, accordingly, had been committed the common purse, and upon -her had devolved the duty of providing for their daily wants, as well as -discharging the rent which was due once in four weeks. She therefore -knew more of their pecuniary condition than her father. She had been -repeatedly alarmed at the rapid diminution of the funds placed in her -hands, and this, notwithstanding she exercised the strictest economy in -all their expenses. For some time, as we have seen, she had eked out -their scanty means by working for the slop-shops. Now, however, there -was a lull in the clothing business, and this resource was temporarily -cut off. How heavily upon the young and inexperienced falls the burden -of pecuniary trouble! Helen saw with a feeling of dismay that a few -weeks would find their means exhausted. What would become of them then, -she did not dare to think. If only her father’s invention could be -completed before that time, she thought, in her simplicity, that all -would be well. Of the long years before even a successful invention can -be made profitable, she knew nothing. She trusted implicitly to her -father’s confident assurances, and never doubted that some time they -would become rich through his discovery. This consideration, however, -did not afford her present relief. Although her father labored -assiduously, it did not appear to her unpractised eye that he was any -nearer the end than he had been six months before. Confident as she was -of his final success, the question how they should live in the mean time -assumed grave importance, and occasioned her not a little perplexity. - -If Helen could have shared her doubts and anxieties with some one who -might have sympathized with her, she would have felt less troubled. But -there seemed to be no one to whom she could speak freely. She was only -too anxious to keep it from her father, who, she felt instinctively, -could give her little or no assistance. She thought of speaking to Mrs. -Morton, but the fear lest, if she should acknowledge her poverty, the -latter might be unwilling to allow them to retain their room any longer, -restrained her. - -We have before mentioned the humble seamstress, Martha Grey, who -occupied the room beneath that of Mr. Ford. Though plain in appearance, -and of quiet demeanor, Helen had been attracted by the expression of -goodness which lighted up her face. Sometimes, when her father seemed -wholly immersed in his labors, she would steal down stairs and spend a -quiet hour in Martha’s company. - -On one of these occasions Martha had a visitor. Although introduced as a -cousin, one could scarcely imagine a greater contrast than existed -between her and Martha. Her dress was more showy than tasteful, and -evidently occupied a large share of her attention. She was employed in a -millinery establishment where she earned good wages,—twice as much as -Martha,—but saved nothing, expending everything upon personal adornment. -She lacked entirely the refinement and quiet dignity of her cousin. In -spite of her humble circumstances, Martha would have been recognized by -any one possessing discernment as a lady. Her cousin, in spite of her -dress, was never in any danger of being mistaken for one. Her manner -towards Martha, however, was a patronizing one, and she evidently -considered herself as occupying a much higher position than the -seamstress. - -“I am astonished, Martha,” said she, glancing contemptuously at the -plain room, and plainer furniture, “that you should be willing to live -in such a hole. I believe if I was cooped up here I should die of -loneliness in less than a week.” - -“I find it very comfortable,” said Martha, composedly. - -“Yes, I suppose it will do. It will keep out the rain and wind, and is -better than nothing, of course. But I want something better than that.” - -“I am very well contented,” said Martha, “and even if I were not, I -could afford no better.” - -“Do you stay here all the time? Don’t you ever go to concerts or the -theatre?” - -“No.” - -“What a humdrum life you must lead! It’s Wednesday afternoon. Suppose we -go to the theatre. There’s going to be a splendid play.” - -Martha hesitated. - -There is so little to excite or interest in the monotonous life of a -hard-working seamstress, that she really longed to throw aside the -needle, and accept her cousin’s invitation. - -“I should like to go,” she said at length, “but I am afraid I ought not -to spend either the time or the money.” - -“Then I’ll make you a fair offer. If you’ll spare the time, I’ll spare -the money. I’ll buy the tickets. Won’t you go, too?” she continued, -turning to Helen. “I’ll pay for you.” - -Helen looked at Martha who nodded kindly, and said, “Did you ever go to -the theatre, Helen!” - -“No, Martha.” - -“Then you had better come. You can come back with me.” - -“Thank you,” said Helen. “I will see if father needs me.” - -She hastened up stairs, but found that her father, absorbed in his -engrossing employment, had not even been aware of her absence. - -“Do you think you can spare me for two or three hours, papa?” she asked. -“I have been invited to go out.” - -She had to repeat the question before her father comprehended. - -“Go, by all means, my dear child,” he answered. “I am afraid you confine -yourself too much on my account.” - -Helen was soon ready. She went out with Martha Grey and her cousin, and -a few minutes found them standing before a large building with a -spacious entrance. - -“This is the theatre,” said Martha, addressing herself to Helen. - -Helen little thought of the consequences that were to follow this—her -first entrance within the walls of a theatre. - - - - - CHAPTER VII. - A NEW TALENT. - - -Seated in the theatre, Helen looked about her in bewilderment. She had -never been within the walls of a theatre. In the street the sun shone -brightly. Here the sun was rigorously excluded, and gas took its place. -It seemed to the unsophisticated child like a sudden leap from noon to -night. She could hear the rumbling of vehicles in the streets, but it -appeared to her, somehow, as if they were far away, and that she had -come into a different world. She wondered what there was behind that -broad green curtain in front, and why the lights should be arranged so -oddly at the foot of it. - -“Lor’, child, that’s the stage,” was the lucid explanation of Martha’s -cousin, to whom she applied for information. “Haven’t you ever been to -the theatre before?” - -“No, never,” said Helen. - -The cousin looked at her with some curiosity, as if there must be -something out of the common way about a person who had never been to the -theatre, and expressed her decided conviction that Helen’s education had -been shockingly neglected. - -“Why,” said she, “before I was half as high as you, I had been to the -theatre ever so many times.” - -She spoke with so much complacency that Helen imagined she must be a -very superior person, and possessed great knowledge of the world. - -While these and other thoughts were passing through her mind, the bell -rang twice, and then the curtain rose. - -Helen nearly uttered an exclamation of surprise, so unprepared was she -for the spectacle which was presented to her dazzled gaze. The play was -a fairy extravaganza, which depended for its success chiefly upon -scenery and stage effect. In the first scene was represented the palace -of the Queen of the fairies, crowning the summit of a hill, rising in -the centre of a beautiful island. Above floated fleecy clouds, from a -break in which streamed the sunshine, lending its glory to the scene. - -In the foreground stood a circle of children about Helen’s age or -younger, who figured as sylphs. With united voices they sang a song in -honor of the Queen of the fairies, who directly afterwards was seen -floating through the air above the stage, arrayed in such style as -seemed befitting her illustrious rank. - -So complete was the illusion to Helen, that she gazed with suspended -breath and a feeling, half of awe, as if the scene she looked upon was -really one of enchantment. - -“Is she really a fairy?” she asked of Martha’s cousin. - -“No, child, of course not. It’s Henrietta Blake. I’ve seen her in the -street many a time. Once I was introduced to her.” - -“What a beautiful creature she must be!” said Helen, admiringly. - -“Beautiful!” repeated the cousin, with some disdain. “For my part, I -don’t think she’s anything to boast of in that line. Just notice what a -poor complexion she has. You’d see it if it wasn’t for the paint. You -wouldn’t have thought her very fairy-like if you had seen her in at -Taylor’s the other evening, eating oysters.” - -Helen could scarcely believe her ears. It seemed to be almost like -sacrilege to associate such a gross idea with the etherial being that -floated before her in all the majestic beauty of a fairy queen. It took -from the scene before her something of the charm with which her fancy -had invested it. Still it was with a feeling of intense enjoyment that -she followed the play to its conclusion, watching scene after scene pass -before her, and the music was truly enchanting. - -At length the play was finished, and the curtain dropped. This, however, -did not conclude the performance. After a short pause the curtain rose -once more, and a young girl came forward and sang the well-known little -Scotch song, “Comin’ thro’ the Rye.” It was sung correctly and in good -taste, but with no remarkable display of power. Still it was -vociferously encored, and, on its repetition, was applauded warmly. - -There was an afterpiece, but, as it was already late in the afternoon, -Martha and her cousin decided not to remain. - -“Well, how did you like it?” asked the cousin, patronizingly. - -“Oh, it was beautiful!” exclaimed Helen, enthusiastically. “I am so much -obliged to you for taking me.” - -“They have better plays sometimes,” returned the cousin, with an air of -superior knowledge of the world. “I didn’t think much of the acting -to-day, for my part. I’ll take you again some time when they’ve got -something else.” - -Even after she was fairly in the street, Helen found it difficult to -throw off the illusion of the stage. She could still see in imagination -the gorgeous spectacle, the splendid fairy palace, the graceful sylphs, -and the queen in her regal magnificence. She was so entirely under the -dominion of fancy that to her the outer world seemed unreal, and that -which she had seen, the real. She walked on, heeding little, till she -was suddenly roused from her reverie in a very forcible manner, by -coming in collision with some person. It proved to be a very fat old -lady, who was walking, or rather waddling, slowly along the sidewalk, -with her head thrown back. At the unexpected collision, she screamed, -and gasped for breath, eyeing Helen, meanwhile, with no very amiable -expression of countenance. - -“You’ve just about beaten the breath out of my body, you young trollop. -Where was you brought up, I’d like to know, not to have any better -manners?” - -“I hope you’ll excuse me,” said Helen, humbly, somewhat ashamed of her -preoccupation. “I didn’t mean to run against you.” - -“Don’t tell me,” said the irritated old lady. “You did it a purpose. I -know you did.” - -“She might as well say you ran into her on purpose,” retorted Martha’s -cousin. - -“I didn’t speak to you, ma’am,” said the exasperated old lady. “It’s my -belief that you’re all in league together, and I’ve a great mind to have -you given in charge of the police.” - -“Indeed!” said the cousin, ironically. - -“Come away,” said Martha, in a low voice. “Don’t let us have a scene -here.” - -As quickly as possible they escaped from the irate old lady. She stood -panting for breath, and glaring at them over the rims of her glasses, -which had been accidentally misplaced. This encounter, ludicrous as it -was, served to bring Helen back from the ideal world to the real, and -without any further adventures she reached home. - -It was already time to prepare their frugal meal. She found her father -as busily occupied as ever. She was glad of this, for it showed that her -presence had not been missed. - -The next day Martha Grey was at work harder than ever. She felt that she -must make up by extra exertion for the unwonted relaxation of the day -before. - -“What are you thinking of, Martha?” asked Helen, playfully, as she stole -in unperceived, and placed her hands over the eyes of the seamstress. -“Come, tell me before I take my hands away.” - -“I was thinking,” said Martha, “that I should like to hear once more the -song that was sung at the theatre yesterday.” - -“You enjoyed it, then?” - -“Very much.” - -“Shall I sing it to you?” asked Helen, quietly. - -“You, Helen?” asked Martha, lifting up her eyes in astonishment. “Can -you sing? I never heard you.” - -“I do not sing very often,” said Helen, sadly. “My mother taught me, and -whenever I sing it brings up thoughts of her.” - -“I should like very much to hear you sing, Helen,” said Martha; “but do -not do it if it will make you sad.” - -“Never mind, Martha. I will sing, if it will give you pleasure.” - -Helen commenced the song, and sang it to the end in a voice of -remarkable richness and power. She was gifted with a voice of -extraordinary flexibility and compass, whose natural power had evidently -been improved by cultivation. Martha, who, though no singer herself, was -very fond of listening to music, and could judge when it had merit, -listened with unaffected astonishment and delight. She felt that she had -never heard a voice of equal sweetness and power. - -“You have a beautiful voice,” she said, when Helen had finished the -song. “You sang it much better than it was sung at the theatre -yesterday. Some day you may become a great singer.” - -“Do you really think so?” asked Helen, her eyes sparkling with delight. -“I am very glad.” - -Martha looked up in some surprise, not understanding why it was that -Helen felt so much pleased. But a new thought had come to the child. - -“Is there anything else you would like to hear?” she asked. - -“I should like to hear ‘Home, Sweet Home.’” - -It was a song which Helen had often sung, and to which she could do full -justice. It was not difficult to account for the feeling which led -Martha Grey to make choice of this song. She was one of a large family, -who had never known sorrow or separation till the death of her parents, -following each other in quick succession, turned them all adrift upon -the world. - -As the song proceeded, Martha called up in fancy the humble farm-house -among the New Hampshire hills, with its comfortable barn and well-tilled -acres around it. She recalled the broad, low kitchen, with its large -fireplace and blazing back-log, around which the family was wont to -gather in the cheerful winter evenings. She recalled her little sister -Ruth, who was about the age of Helen when their home was broken up, but -whom she had not seen since, Ruth having been placed in the family of an -uncle. She recalled her happy school-days, her school companions, and, -above all, her father and mother, who had never been otherwise than kind -to her, and then looked about the small and desolate room which she now -called home. She could not help contrasting her present lonely position -with what it had been when she was at home in the midst of her family, -and as the last strain died away upon Helen’s lips, she burst into -tears. - -Helen looked up in surprise at this unwonted display of emotion on the -part of one, usually so quiet and composed as Martha Grey. - -“Don’t mind me, Helen,” said Martha, through her tears. “It came over -me, and I couldn’t help it. Some time, perhaps, I will tell you why it -is that that song always makes me shed tears.” - - - - - CHAPTER VIII. - SUNDAY AND TRINITY CHURCH. - - -It was Sunday morning. To thousands of frames, wearied by exhausting -labors, it brought the benediction of rest. To thousands of throbbing -brains it brought grateful relaxation. The great business thoroughfares -wear a Sunday look. The shops are closed, and no longer hold out, -through showily-arranged windows, invitations to enter. The bells in a -hundred steeples ring out in many voices the summons to worship. - -Helen tapped gently at Martha’s door. - -“Where do you attend church?” she inquired. - -“I was just going to call for you, Helen,” said the seamstress, “to ask -if you and your father wouldn’t like to attend Trinity Church with me.” - -Helen hesitated a little. - -“That is the great church at the lower end of Broadway, isn’t it?” she -inquired. - -“Yes.” - -“I thought it might be a fashionable church. Father and I have been to -one or two of the great churches, where the sexton didn’t seem to care -about giving us seats, but finally put us away back where we found it -difficult to hear the service.” - -“I have had the same experience more than once,” said Martha; “but we -shall have no such trouble at Trinity. Though one of the finest churches -in the city, it is free to all, and the poor are as welcome as the -rich.” - -“Then I shall be glad to go, and so will papa. Wait a moment, and I will -tell him.” - -They were soon in the street, mingling with the well-dressed crowds, -wending their way to their respective houses of worship. - -“Sunday was always pleasant to me,” said Martha, “even as a child. I -remember the plain old meeting-house, where we all sat in square, -high-backed pews, listening to the good old minister who is gone now to -his rest and his reward. There have been great changes since then,” and -she sighed sadly. - -A short walk brought them to the church portals. They were early, and -obtained excellent seats. The organist was already playing. Helen’s face -lit with pleasure, for she had never before heard so fine an instrument -or so skilful a player. Exquisitely fitted by nature for receiving -musical impressions, she felt her soul uplifted by the grandeur of the -music, and her heart penetrated by its sweetness. Now there was a -thunderous clang, as if the organist were seeking to evoke from the -instrument a fitting tribute to the majesty and power of the Creator. It -seemed as if hosts of angels were clashing their cymbals, and singing -God’s high praise. Now a delicate rill of silver-voiced melody trickled -forth, clear and sweet, interpreting the unfathomable love wherewith God -loves his children, even the lowliest. - -Helen listened as one entranced, and when the last strain died away, and -the organ was still, she turned towards Martha, and whispered, for she -could not keep silence, “It lifts me up. It almost seems as if I were in -heaven.” - -Unconsciously Helen expressed the same feeling which Milton has embodied -in fitting lines,— - - “But let my due feet never fail - To walk the studious cloisters pale, - And love the high embowered roof - With antique pillars massy proof, - And storied windows richly dight - Casting a dim religious light; - There let the pealing organ blow - To the full-voiced choir below - In service high and anthem clear, - As may with sweetness through mine ear - Dissolve me into ecstasies - And bring all heaven before mine eyes.” - -It is a mistake to suppose that the plainest and cheapest churches are -good enough for the poor. Europe is far more democratic in matters of -religion than America. In the great continental cathedrals I have more -than once felt inexpressibly touched to behold at my side some child of -poverty and misfortune bending a reverent gaze upon some imaged saint. I -have pictured to myself his probable home in some filthy court or dingy -alley, with the light of heaven shut out, dark, forbidding and noisome, -and rejoiced to think that it was his privilege to pass from such a -scene into the splendors that fitly adorn the house of God. It is -something to shed a ray of sunlight upon the life of a poor man—to -gratify his taste, mortified by the gloomy surroundings of his daily -life, to nourish the little flower of sentiment struggling out of the -rubbish that has well-nigh choked out his æsthetic nature, and help him -to feel that life has a beautiful side, from which he is not utterly -shut out. - -So Helen and the poor seamstress, confined through the week in poor and -unattractive chambers, felt a quiet satisfaction in the grand -architectural proportions and solemn beauty of the great church in which -they felt themselves welcome guests. They derived new strength for the -plain and humble duties of every day in the thought that one day in -seven they could escape into a loftier atmosphere, and feel God’s -presence nearer. - -Occasionally, as the service proceeded, Helen stole a glance at her -father, who sat beside her. His face wore a look of calm enjoyment and -intelligent appreciation. - -As he sat with his clasped hands resting on his knees, and his eyes -fixed upon the preacher, the vanished years returned, and beside him -there sat once more the fair young bride, whose pure and saintly image -lived a hallowed remembrance in the heart of father and daughter alike. - -When the service closed, he did not change his position, till Helen, -touching him gently, said, “It is time to go, papa.” - -“We will come again next Sunday, Helen,” he said. - -“Yes, papa.” - -They walked back slowly and thoughtfully to their humble homes, speaking -little, but each more happy and peaceful for the hour passed in the -great church whose lofty spire seemed ever pointing upwards to that God -in whose service it was reared. - - - - - CHAPTER IX. - THE LAWYER’S PROGRESS. - - -The day after his meeting with Helen and her father, the worthy -attorney, Mr. Sharp, took his way leisurely to the boarding-house of -Mrs. Morton. Although the object of his visit was clearly defined to his -own mind, he scarcely knew in what manner he might best attain it. But -Mr. Sharp was not a man to be abashed or daunted by small difficulties. -Trusting, therefore, to what chance and the inspiration of the moment -might suggest, he mounted the steps and rang the bell. - -“Mrs. Morton, I presume,” he remarked, with great affability, as that -lady opened the door in person. - -“You are quite right, sir.” - -“I believe,” he remarked with suavity, “that I am correct in the -supposition that you take boarders.” - -“I wonder what he’s aiming at,” thought Mother Morton, glancing with -something of suspicion at the white hat set jauntily on one side of his -head. “I hope he won’t apply for board. I am always suspicious of those -who are so smooth-tongued.” - -“Yes, sir,” she said aloud, “I do take boarders, but I am full now.” - -“Indeed!” said Mr. Sharp, with a benignant smile, “I am delighted to -hear of your prosperity. I was not, however, thinking of making an -application for board in my own behalf, though I should undoubtedly -esteem it a high privilege to be an inmate of a boarding-house which I -am confident is so admirably conducted. Will you have the goodness to -tell me whether you have a boarder or lodger named Dupont?” - -It is scarcely necessary to explain that this inquiry was employed by -Mr. Sharp as a plausible method of accounting for his calling, and to -pave the way for something else. He had no particular choice in the -name, but thought Dupont would be as uncommon as any. - -“Yes,” was the unexpected reply of Mrs. Morton, “we have a lodger of -that name. I believe he is in. Will you step in and see him, sir?” - -Unprepared for this answer, Mr. Sharp was for the moment undecided how -to act. Being sufficiently quick-witted, however, he soon devised a way -to extricate himself from his embarrassment. - -“Poor man!” said he with a gentle sigh; “he’s much to be pitied.” - -“Pitied!” echoed the landlady, opening wide her eyes in astonishment. -“Why?” - -“To a sensitive mind,” continued Mr. Sharp, in a tone of mild pathos, -“bodily deformity must be a great drawback to one’s comfort and -happiness.” - -“Deformity!” repeated the landlady in increased surprise. - -“Yes, Mr. Dupont is a humpback, is he not?” - -“A humpback!” returned Mrs. Morton, in a tone of some asperity. “You are -quite mistaken, sir; I have no humpback among my boarders.” - -“Then it cannot be the man I mean,” said the lawyer, rejoiced to have -got out of the scrape so cleverly. “I beg ten thousand pardons for -having put you to so much trouble.” - -“No trouble, sir,” was the civil reply. - -Mrs. Morton held the door, wondering why the visitor still remained, now -that his errand was accomplished. The lawyer’s purpose, however, still -remained to be effected. He was even now cudgelling his brains to devise -a method of reaching it. - -“A moment more,” he said, with suavity. “I think, as I passed last -evening, that I saw a little girl enter with an elderly gentleman.” - -“Helen Ford?” - -“Oh, yes. She boards with you, does she not?” - -“Helen and her father have a room up stairs. They board themselves. I -only lodge them.” - -“Pardon my curiosity, but I have an object in view. What is her father’s -occupation?” - -“He is busy about some invention, and has been ever since he came here. -A flying machine, I believe.” - -“Ah, yes,” said the lawyer, to whom this was all new. “It is as I -supposed. Can I see them? I picked up a small purse,” he added, by way -of explanation, “just after they passed me in the street, and I thought -it not unlikely that the young lady might have dropped it.” - -“Certainly,” said the landlady, somewhat more favorably disposed to Mr. -Sharp, in consequence of this evidence of his integrity. “Their room is -on the fourth floor, at the head of the stairs. Perhaps I had better go -up and show you.” - -“Oh, by no means, madam, by no means,” said the lawyer, politely. “I -know the value of your time, and would on no account subject you to so -much unnecessary trouble. I shall easily find it from your directions.” - -Helen was looking out of the window, and her father was busied as usual, -when a low tap was heard at the door. - -Supposing it was Martha, who, in fact, with the exception of the -landlady, was her only visitor, she cried, “Come in,” and then creeping -softly to the door, jumped out playfully upon the one who entered. Her -dismay may readily be conceived when, instead of the quiet seamstress, -she found that she had narrowly escaped jumping into the arms of a tall -man with a white hat. - -“I am very sorry,—I did not know,—I thought it was Martha,” she -faltered, in great confusion, her cheeks dyed with blushes. - -“Don’t apologize, I beg of you,” said the stranger, courteously. “It is -I, on the contrary, who should apologize for intruding upon you, and,” -he added, glancing to the corner of the room, “upon your respected -parent. I am not mistaken,” he added, inquiringly, “in supposing him to -be your father?” - -“No, sir,” said Helen, who, without understanding why, felt a little ill -at ease from the elaborate politeness of her visitor. - -“But I have not yet disclosed the motive of my visit. I chanced to be -walking behind you and your father yesterday in the afternoon. You -walked out at that time?” - -“Yes, sir.” - -“I thought I could not be mistaken. There are some countenances, my dear -young lady, that we are not likely to forget.” - -Helen, unused as she was to flattery, did not understand that this was -meant for a compliment. Therefore it quite failed of its effect. Perhaps -this was quite as well, since, if understood, it would have confused -rather than pleased her. She was too deficient in vanity to have felt -flattered by a compliment from a stranger. Yet no one was more desirous -of winning the approval of those whose friendship she valued. Helen was, -in short, a truthful, unsophisticated child, perfectly transparent and -straightforward, and imagined that others were equally so. So she only -waited patiently for Mr. Sharp to announce the object of his call. - -“Afterwards I discovered this purse on the sidewalk,” continued the -lawyer, displaying his own purse. “As you and your father had just -passed, I conjectured that one or the other of you must have dropped it. -I have, accordingly, called this morning to ascertain if I am correct in -my supposition, and if so, to return the purse.” - -“No,” said Helen, shaking her head. “It cannot be ours.” - -“Then I must seek farther for the owner. I beg you will pardon me for -this intrusion.” - -Helen said, rather awkwardly, that it was of no consequence. - -“May I inquire,” said Mr. Sharp, as if the idea suddenly struck him, -“whether your father is not an inventor? I think I was told so by the -very respectable lady down stairs.” - -“Yes,” said Helen, more at her ease. “Papa has been busy a great while -about his invention. It requires a great deal of time and patience.” - -“Indeed! Would it be taking too great a liberty to inquire the nature of -the proposed invention?” - -“It is a flying machine,” said Helen. “Some people laugh at it,” she -added, a little hurriedly. “It seems strange to them because they have -never thought much about it.” - -“Let them laugh,” said Mr. Sharp, with warmth. “Let them laugh, my dear -young lady,” he repeated in a tone of profound sympathy. “It is the way -of the world. There has never been any great discovery or invention, -from the earliest ages to the present time, that has not encountered -ridicule. Wait till success crowns your father’s exertions, and then you -will see how all will be changed.” - -“So papa thinks,” said Helen, quite grateful to the lawyer for his words -of encouragement; “and it is that which makes him labor so patiently.” - -“Undoubtedly. Would it be too great a liberty to ask permission to -examine your father’s invention. It is a subject in which I feel a very -deep interest. Indeed, I may say that I am something of an inventor -myself.” - -Poor confiding Helen! How could she imagine that these words of sympathy -covered an unblushing falsehood? - -“Papa will be very glad to show it to you,” she said. Then to her -father: “Papa, this gentleman would like to examine your model.” - -“Certainly,” said Mr. Ford, courteously. - -This was a subject on which, despite his taciturnity, he could talk -fluently. Mr. Sharp listened with an appearance of profound attention, -occasionally asking a question, and remarking modestly that he had once -entered upon a similar train of investigation, but that the imperative -claims of business had brought it to an abrupt termination. - -“I have not by any means,” he concluded, “lost my interest in scientific -matters; and it would afford me great pleasure if you will permit me -occasionally to look in upon you and note your progress. I dare not hope -that I could offer any suggestions likely to be of service to one so far -my superior in scientific attainments, but should it be in my power to -aid you in any way, you can count on me with confidence.” - -Mr. Ford felt flattered, as was but natural, by this evidence of -interest in his pursuits, and cordially invited Mr. Sharp to call -whenever he found it convenient. - -“Well, Sharp,” said that gentleman, apostrophizing himself, as he made -his way down stairs, “you’ve done well, old fellow, though at one time I -trembled for you. You’ve flattered your way into the good graces of that -chimerical old fool, and now you are in a fair way to accomplish -something more, if needful.” - -The next day found him closeted with Lewis Rand, from whom he received -instructions as to his future course. - - - - - CHAPTER X. - NEW PROJECTS. - - -Helen had been long and anxiously considering in what manner she could -employ herself so as to earn a sufficient amount to defray the expenses -of living. Every day the little stock of money remaining in her purse -became less. They lived very frugally, but there was the rent, and two -persons cannot live on air. So the little hoard diminished, and five -dollars were now all that remained to Helen. Five dollars! it might keep -them ten days, but certainly would not last longer, economize as they -might. From her father Helen could hope for no present assistance. He -was always at work, but his labor, however well it might be compensated -in the future, brought in no money now. And for money there would soon -be pressing occasion. Helen grew very uneasy at the thought that they -might be turned penniless into the street. Hitherto they had never been -without money. The five dollars that remained was the last instalment of -a small property left her father by his mother. - -One morning Helen sat at the table, leaning her head upon her hand, -plunged in anxious thought. At first she could think of no possible -resource. But when everything looks dark, and all paths seem closed to -us, suddenly from out the thick darkness there sometimes streams a ray -of hope to cheer and sustain the sinking heart. - -So it was in the present case. - -In her humility, Helen had never dreamed that she possessed -extraordinary musical powers, and it was only through the warm -commendation of Martha Grey that this fact became known to her. Why -should she not employ these in her father’s service? At the theatre a -singer, but little older than herself, and as Martha declared inferior -in talent, had won the popular applause. Why should not she gain -employment in a similar capacity? Full of these thoughts, she entered -Martha’s room. - -The seamstress sat at the open window. The cool breeze that found its -way in, lent a faint flush to her pale cheeks. In the cage over her head -a canary bird sang—Martha’s solitary extravagance. As she sat alone from -morning till night engaged in her monotonous task, the bird supplied the -place of human company, and beguiled a portion of the weary time. - -Helen came in and seated herself on a cricket at Martha’s feet. - -Martha’s face brightened, for she had already learned to love the child. - -“I am glad to see you, Helen,” she said. “How is your father, to-day?” - -“Papa is much as usual.” - -“Hard at work as ever, I suppose.” - -“Yes; he allows himself no time to rest. I really think he ought. But, -Martha, I am going to ask your advice about something very important to -me,” said the child, gravely. - -“Thank you for your confidence, Helen. Whatever is of importance to you -will be of interest to me.” - -“You remember telling me the other day that you liked my singing, and -that I might some day become a great singer. You know I told you at the -time how glad I was to hear you say so.” - -“Yes, Helen; I remember it.” - -“I did not tell you then why I felt glad; but I will now.” - -Helen paused a moment, and then in a frank tone, which showed how little -she was affected by the conventional shame some feel in disclosing their -poverty, continued: “My father and I are very poor. We have been so for -some time, but I got a little money by sewing, and that helped along. -Now, you know, business is dull, and I can get no more work to do. The -little money we have left will not last a fortnight, though I am _very_ -economical. So you see, Martha, it is quite necessary that I should find -some way of earning more money at once.” - -“Does your father know how near you are to destitution?” inquired the -seamstress. - -“No,” was the child’s reply; “and I hope he will not find out. I cannot -bear to trouble him with that, when he has so much to think of. It can’t -be very long before he finishes his model, and then we shall have plenty -of money. If I can only earn enough to keep us along till that time I -shall be very glad.” - -“Poor child!” thought Martha, compassionately; “it will be long enough -before your father’s invention fills your purse.” - -She was about to offer to procure Helen some work from the establishment -where she was employed, but when she looked at the bright face of the -young girl, and thought to what hours and days of weariness it would -consign her, how it would steal one by one the roses from her cheeks, -and the freshness from her heart, leaving her with little to enjoy in -the present and less to hope for in the future, she had not the heart to -offer her the destiny which she had been compelled to accept for -herself; nor could she bear to dim the child’s trustful confidence in -her father’s success by the expression of a single doubt. - -She remained silent. - -Finding that Martha said nothing, Helen continued: “When I came to see -you the other day, Martha, I had been trying to think of some way in -which I could help poor papa, but I could think of nothing. Then when I -sang to you and you liked it, I thought it possible that others might -like it, too. Do you think,” she asked, lifting her eyes with a look of -earnest expectation; “do you think they would hire me to sing at the -theatre?” - -Martha started in surprise. As yet no thought of the child’s purpose had -entered her mind. To one so unobtrusive and retiring by natural -temperament, the thought of going forth at the head of an army would -have seemed scarcely more formidable that that of standing before a -public audience. Yet this was what Helen, so diffident always, actually -proposed to do. - -“Can you really be in earnest, Helen?” she asked; gazing in amazement at -the child who cherished such bold aspirations. - -She did not understand the power of the motive which influenced Helen; -how she made everything subordinate to the promptings of filial -affection, which was stronger than any other feeling of her nature. That -gave her courage to think of what she would otherwise have shrunk from -with nervous timidity. For her father she felt that she could dare all. -It was a strange position, that of a young girl at her age, called upon -to assume the oversight and care of providing for her father’s comfort -and necessities. Stranger still was it, that with all the knowledge of -her father’s dependence upon herself and his utter ignorance of the -world and its ways, she should yet have retained so thorough a respect -and reverence for him. - -“Can you be in earnest?” - -It was Helen’s turn to be surprised at the question. - -“Why not?” she asked. “It is my duty to help poor papa, and if I can do -so in this way, why should I not?” - -“That is true, Helen, but think of standing before so many hundreds, or -perhaps thousands of people, with every eye fixed upon you. How could -you bear that?” - -“I should not think of it at all, Martha. When I am singing I can see -nothing and hear nothing. I seem to be mounting up—up into the air, and -floating among the clouds. I can’t tell you how much I enjoy singing.” - -As Helen spoke her eyes sparkled, and her face flushed with enthusiasm. -The exhibition of deep natural feeling is always impressive. Martha felt -it to be so, and could not help admiring and loving the child more than -ever. Helen had almost persuaded her. - -“But,” she continued with returning caution, “you may not always feel -so. There would be times when you would not feel like singing, but sing -only because you were obliged to. Then when you encountered the glances -of so many eyes, would not your heart sink and your courage fail you?” - -“Then, Martha,” said Helen, with simplicity, “I should think of poor -papa, and how by my exertions I was able to make him comfortable, and -how by and by, when he had succeeded, I should not be obliged to do -anything more. Then I should think how much he had done for me, and how -hard he is laboring even now. There would be a great satisfaction in -that. I ought not to hesitate when I have an opportunity to do something -for him, ought I, Martha?” - -“You are a dear, good child,” said the seamstress, affectionately; “and -I will not say a single word more against your plan. But you must not be -too hopeful. You may meet with disappointment about getting a -situation.” - -“You mean that perhaps I shall not sing well enough, Martha,” said -Helen. “But I shall do my best when I think how much my father’s comfort -depends upon my success; and that will be sure to help me.” - -“No, Helen; that was not what I meant. I never for a moment doubted that -you would sing well enough. Why, you sing like an angel.” - -“Did you ever hear an angel sing?” asked Helen, a little mischievously. - -“In my dreams,” said Martha, smiling. “But that was not the difficulty I -thought of. Would your father be willing to have you go on the stage?” - -“He would not be willing at first, so I think I shall not tell him till -I find out whether they are willing to employ me. Papa is so thoughtful -of me that he would think I was attempting too much, or suspect it was -poverty that led me to it. It will be better not to tell him at first.” - -“Then there is another thing to be considered. Perhaps there will be as -many singers employed as are required. It is not always easy to obtain -an engagement, even where one is deserving. If you only had some -influential friends——” - -“I have you,” said Helen, archly. - -Martha smiled faintly. - -“I am afraid if that is all you have to rely upon that it will be -leaning on a broken reed. However, we will hope for the best, and not -despond till we have reason to do so.” - -So the two conversed till Helen heard a neighboring clock striking five. - -“Five o’clock!” she exclaimed. “I did not know it was so late. I must go -up and prepare supper.” - -She tripped lightly up stairs with a new hope in her heart. Unconscious -of the cares which had fallen so early upon his daughter, Mr. Ford was -laboring at his machinery. Helen came and stood by his side. - -“Well, papa, what progress?” she asked, cheerfully. - -“Very good, my child,” said the dreamer. “I have just succeeded in -obviating a difficulty which has perplexed me for some time.” - -“How very glad I am, papa. That ought to give you a good appetite for -your supper. I shall have it ready in a few minutes.” - - - - - CHAPTER XI. - THE ENGAGEMENT. - - -The next day Helen resolved to put her plan into execution. As soon as -her morning duties were completed, and her father seated at his -never-ending task, she dressed herself in the best manner her limited -wardrobe would admit. Though inexperienced in the ways of the world, she -felt instinctively the importance of making a favorable first -impression. When she was quite ready, she left the room softly, and was -soon mingling with the busy crowds that thronged Broadway. At first she -walked rapidly, but, as she drew nearer her destination, and could see -the imposing front of the theatre, her heart beat quick and her step -became slower. - -When she actually reached the entrance, a feeling of diffidence seized -her, which she found it almost impossible to overcome. She felt that she -could not enter, at least just then, and walked slowly by. After a while -she walked back, but was withheld from entering again by a feeling -scarcely less strong. Again she walked past, and again returned. This -time she had schooled herself to the effort, and approaching, with -hesitation, the office where tickets were sold for the evening’s -entertainment, inquired, in a low voice, for the manager. - -“Who did you wish to see?” inquired the clerk, with some surprise -visible in his manner. - -The request was repeated. - -“The manager? Can’t say whether he’s in or not. You must go to the back -entrance and turn to the left. Then knock at the first door.” - -Helen looked bewildered. - -“Have you been here before?” - -“No, sir.” - -“Stop a minute, and I will show you, then. I shall close the office -directly.” - -Helen was very glad of the delay, as it gave her time to assume an -outward semblance of calmness. - -Mr. Bowers, the manager, was seated in a small room connecting with the -stage. He was a man of comfortable proportions, and bore the appearance -of one whom the world had used not unkindly. Though, in general, -good-tempered, he was, on this particular morning, “out of sorts.” A new -play was to be brought out in the evening. The actors had been allowed -very little time to “get up” their parts, and, as a natural consequence, -the rehearsal of the morning had been, thus far, a series of blunders. -In addition to this, the “star” had failed to make his appearance, and -the prospect for a successful evening did not look very bright. - -Under these circumstances it was not altogether surprising that Mr. -Bowers should feel disappointed and irritated. - -It was at this inauspicious moment that Helen was ushered into his -presence. The manager looked up with visible vexation, serving to add to -the embarrassment under which Helen was already laboring. - -“Well?” he demanded, in a quick, impatient tone. - -Helen felt that it would be a relief if the floor would open and swallow -her up, or if she could escape in some other way. The interview, which -had seemed comparatively easy in the quiet of her own room, had now -become very formidable. She began to wonder at her own presumption in -supposing herself capable of pleasing the public with her simple songs, -and to feel that Martha’s partiality must have led astray her better -judgment. - -While these thoughts were passing through her mind, she sat silent, -quite unable to frame a sentence. The manager regarded her with -surprise, unable to account for her silence. - -“What is your business with me?” he inquired, in a tone which indicated -that his time was of great consequence, and the sooner he was left to -himself the better he should be suited. - -Helen understood the tone quite as readily as the words, and, imperative -as it was, it assisted in recalling her to herself. She came to the -point at once. - -“Do you wish to engage any one to sing for you?” - -She had said all that was necessary, and then she stopped, -half-frightened at her own temerity. - -It was the manager’s turn to look surprised. He had not taken the -trouble to wonder what the child’s business was. He had only asked as a -necessary form, preparatory to dismissing her. He looked more -particularly at her now, noticing her childish form and air, and asked, -abruptly,— - -“Are you inquiring for yourself?” - -“Yes, sir.” - -She looked up earnestly in his face. Her bonnet had partly fallen back, -revealing the rare loveliness of which she was unconscious. She waited -breathlessly for the answer. - -“Our company is full,” said Mr. Bowers, coldly. He turned again to his -desk, and resumed his writing. His manner said, so plainly, “You may -go,” that Helen prepared to obey the unspoken but implied direction. Her -heart sank within her at this first disappointment. Thoughts of the -coming destitution, which she had hoped to ward off by this means, -crowded upon her, and she could scarcely keep back the rebellious tears, -which, had she been alone would have had free course. - -As she passed slowly out, a messenger hurriedly entered the office. - -“Well, what now?” asked the manager, somewhat testily. “Any more -blunders? It seems as if everything conspired against us. Has —— made -his appearance?” - -“No, sir.” - -“And won’t, I’ll be bound. These fellows claim the lion’s share of the -profits, and trouble themselves little about the convenience of their -employers.” - -“Miss De Forrest is indisposed, sir, and will be unable to sing this -evening.” - -“Indisposed! Unable to appear!” repeated the manager, angrily. “And why -the d—l must she take this particular evening to be sick? I don’t -believe a word of it. Go to her, and tell her we can’t spare her.” - -“It is reported,” said the messenger, deprecatingly, for Mr. Bowers was -in one of those moods when it was difficult to make him listen to -reason; “it is reported that she has a fever, and will not be able to -appear for some time.” - -“A fever! And what business has she to have a fever?” growled the -manager. “Well,” said he, after a brief pause, “is there nobody to take -her place?” - -“I know of no one.” - -Mr. Bowers mused a moment. “It won’t do,” he thought, “to omit the songs -altogether, especially to-night, when we are likely to have so many -other shortcomings. I have it, Jeffries,” he exclaimed. “Did you notice -the child who left the office as you entered?” - -“Yes, sir.” - -“Do you think you should know her again?” - -“I think so.” - -“Then follow her immediately, and bring her back with you. Say I wish to -see her.” - -When Helen left the theatre, she walked very slowly, as if to gain time -to become reconciled to her late disappointment. What a revulsion of -feeling had a single half-hour wrought in her! Her high hopes had been -dashed to the earth, and nothing was left but a sense of humiliation and -rebuked presumption. Had she but been invited to sing, by way of testing -her powers, that would have been something; but to have been refused so -coldly and peremptorily, might well depress her. - -Walking slowly, she had not proceeded far when she heard some one -calling after her, “You are to come back. Mr. Bowers wishes to see you.” - -Not supposing that she was intended, she did not turn till some one -touched her arm, and looking back she recognized the young man who had -entered the manager’s office as she left it. - -“Did you just leave the theatre?” he inquired. - -“Yes,” said Helen, with sudden hope. - -“Mr. Bowers would like to see you again, then.” - -Helen experienced another revulsion of feeling. The clouds seemed -breaking. The recall was evidently favorable to her prospects of an -engagement. - -Five minutes found her once more in the manager’s presence. - -“What is your name?” he asked, abruptly. - -“Helen Ford.” - -“Humph! that will do. Have you parents living?” - -“Only a father.” - -“And did he send you here?” - -“No, sir,” said Helen. - -“Does he know that you have come?” - -Helen shook her head somewhat uneasily. New difficulties seemed to be -springing up in her path. - -“After all,” thought the manager, “if she’s really worth engaging, her -father’s consent is not essential. He will not object to her earning -something by her voice. At any rate I’ll try her, and see if she has any -talent.” - -“What can you sing?” he asked, after a pause, in which Helen watched his -face eagerly. - -“What would you like to hear, sir?” - -“Jeffries, what songs are announced for this evening?” - -“‘The Widow Machree’ and ‘Comin’ thro’ the Rye,’ sir.” - -“Can you sing these, Miss Ford?” - -“I will try, sir.” - -“Mind,” premised the manager, cautiously, “I don’t promise to engage -you, even if your singing is satisfactory. As I said before, our company -is already full, but there may be a vacancy some time; and if so, I -shall want to know where to look for some one to fill it.” - -Mr. Bowers threw himself back in his arm-chair, and, with a magisterial -wave of the hand, signalled Helen to begin. - -She paused a moment, as if to collect herself, resolutely putting aside -the feeling of embarrassment which was stealing over her. She felt that -she had too much at stake to hazard all by giving way to nervous -weakness. It was not long that she suffered from timidity. She commenced -singing in a low voice, but gradually confidence came to her, and it -acquired strength. Her voice was wonderfully sweet and flexible. Mr. -Bowers started slightly when she commenced, and at once became -attentive. More than this, he was charmed. The whole room became vocal -with melody. Even on the stage, where the actors were listlessly -rehearsing their parts for the evening, Helen’s voice was heard, and -they quietly gathered about the entrance, and listened in mute surprise, -wondering what musical prodigy had so seasonably turned up to supply the -place of Miss De Forrest. - -The song ceased, and Helen stood in silence, awaiting the manager’s -verdict. - -Mr. Bowers had been delighted with an exhibition of talent so far -surpassing his most sanguine expectations. But managers are not -enthusiastic, and he was far too polite to express all he felt. That -would have been quite unprofessional. - -“You have done very well, Miss Ford,” he said, graciously. “You have not -overrated your talents, as is the case with some who aspire to sing in -public. Of whom have you taken lessons?” - -“My mother taught me to sing.” - -“Indeed! And was your mother a professional singer?” - -“Oh, no, sir.” - -“She has evidently taught you well. Your voice, too, is very fair,—very -fair, indeed.” - -“Do I sing well enough to appear in public, sir?” asked Helen, eagerly. - -“Yes, or you may in time. Of course, you require training.” - -“Thank you, sir.” - -“When you were here, a few minutes since, I thought I had no place for -you. I have been informed since that Miss De Forrest, my regular singer, -is unexpectedly taken ill, and may not recover for some time. I will -engage you for a week in her place if we can agree upon terms.” - -“I am very much obliged to you, sir,” said Helen, with difficulty -concealing her joy. - -“I will pay you six dollars for the first week,” continued the manager. -“Should you do well, and I have occasion to employ you longer, I may -increase your compensation. But, of course, being a beginner, you cannot -expect a large salary.” - -Large! Six dollars seemed to Helen a small fortune. It would enable them -to live better than she had dared to do since they became inmates of -Mrs. Morton’s boarding-house. - -“You will be expected to make your first appearance this evening, in the -songs which you have already sung. You will present yourself at -rehearsal to-morrow morning at ten o’clock. We will dispense with it -to-day.” - -“At what hour shall I come this evening?” asked Helen. - -“The doors will open at seven. You may present yourself an hour earlier. -It will be necessary for you to dress and become familiar with the stage -before the performance commences.” - -Helen hurried home, not as before with a heavy heart, but with a feeling -of deep and thankful joy. It seemed as if she could not get over the -ground fast enough. She was anxious to report her success to good Martha -Grey, who, she felt sure, would sympathize with her. She bounded along, -regardless of the stares and astonished looks of those with whom she -came in collision, and never paused until she entered, breathless with -haste, the room of her friend. - -“What is the matter, Helen?” asked Martha, looking up from her work. -“You seem quite wild with excitement.” - -“I have succeeded, Martha. Only think of that. I am to sing to-night at -the theatre. I am engaged for a week, and am to receive six dollars.” - -“I am sincerely glad, my dear child,” said Martha, affectionately. “Wait -till you have recovered your breath, and then you shall tell me all -about it.” - -As Martha listened to her glowing recital, she caught some of her -enthusiasm, and never doubted that she must and would pass triumphantly -through the trying ordeal of a first introduction to the public. - - - - - CHAPTER XII. - HELEN’S DEBUT. - - -There was one difficulty attending the carrying out of her plan which -occasioned Helen some embarrassment. She was to present herself at the -theatre at six, and would, undoubtedly, be detained there until late in -the evening. How she could absent herself so long without incurring her -father’s suspicions, was a problem which she found it difficult to -solve. Under any other circumstances she would have hesitated about -taking a step so important with her father’s consent previously -obtained, but now she was impelled, by her very affection for her -father, to conceal what she proposed doing until she had taken the first -step. - -At length Martha proposed that she should openly ask permission to -attend the theatre in her company. Mr. Ford, of course, would never -dream her real object. Perhaps this was the best plan that could have -been devised. Her father only answered, “Certainly, my dear; I hope you -will enjoy yourself.” - -“But will you not be lonely, papa?” - -“I shall be too busy for that, Helen,” he said, glancing at his -unfinished model. - -Relieved on this point, Helen made the necessary preparations and left -the house in company with Martha, who had promised to bear her company -as far as the theatre. She did not propose to be present, knowing that -under the peculiar circumstances attending a first appearance, and the -trying ordeal through which Helen was to pass, the presence of a friend -might prove rather an additional embarrassment than a help. - -At the stage entrance they parted. - -“Keep up good courage, Helen,” said Martha, pressing her hand -affectionately; “keep up good courage, and all will be well.” - -Helen stood for a moment watching her receding form, and then as the -strokes of a neighboring clock warned her to be punctual, knocked at the -door. It was opened by Jeffries, the messenger of the morning. - -“Miss Ford,” said he, respectfully, “I am directed to lead you at once -to the dressing-room.” - -Helen was ushered through a dark passage and up a narrow winding -staircase to the room referred to. It was crowded with a heterogeneous -collection of articles of dress, of every conceivable variety of shade, -cut, and material. Here lay the rich robes of royalty in juxtaposition -with the coarse attire of a milk-maid. Both had been in requisition the -night before. - -Helen looked about her with a feeling of bewilderment, when an elderly -lady, with a pleasant expression, advanced towards her. - -“I am glad to see you, Miss Ford,” she said. “So you are going to join -us. I think you have never appeared before.” - -“I have never been in a theatre but once before.” - -“Bless me, where have you lived all your life?” exclaimed her companion, -in unaffected amazement. Her own familiarity with the theatre made her -look upon Helen as singularly unsophisticated. - -“Papa and I have always lived very quietly,” said Helen, smiling, “and -he never goes himself.” - -“Before I select a dress for you,” said Mrs. Girdle, for such she -informed Helen was her name, “I will show you the stage. You will want -to know where to make your entrance and exit.” - -Taking Helen’s hand, she led her forward until she stood on the stage—a -place of mystery, which to the uninitiated who only see it from a -distance in the glare of gas-light, seems like a land of enchantment, -peopled by kings and nobles, fair ladies and gallant gentlemen. Now it -was dreary and comfortless. A very faint light threw its sickly beams -over coarsely-painted scenes and tawdry ornaments. - -Was this the stage which had seemed so bright and beautiful to Helen -only a few evenings before? It was, indeed, the same. She recognized the -green curtain, the use of which had puzzled her, and the long rows of -empty seats which stared her in the face when she proceeded to the -front. The house itself had undergone as dreary a metamorphosis. Then it -was alive with bright and eager faces. Now it was dark and cheerless. - -But Helen had little time to spend in looking about her. She was -summoned to the side of Mrs. Girdle, who in a business-like manner -explained to her what it was necessary for her to know. Helen listened -with attention, and promised to remember. - -“It is very important that you should bear in mind all I have been -telling you,” said Mrs. Girdle. “I can tell you that from my own -experience. When I first appeared on the stage as a young girl, I paid -less attention than I ought to this point. It was very easy finding my -way off the stage in the daytime when there was nothing to distract my -attention, but in the evening it was a different affair. I remember -doing very well till it was time to withdraw. Then in my excitement I -quite forgot all that I ought to have remembered. I turned about in -confusion, and seemed to see every eye fixed upon me. I was seized with -a nervous terror. The audience I thought were laughing at me. In my -desperation I darted forward, little heeding where, and fell through a -trap-door which had carelessly been left open. Fortunately I was not -injured seriously, only receiving a salutary fright, which taught me to -be more careful in future.” - -“Do you appear to-night?” asked Helen, with interest. - -“I do not play as much as formerly, scarcely at all in fact,” answered -Mrs. Girdle, somewhat sadly. “New favorites have sprung up, and my -services are no longer required, except in emergencies.” - -They had reached the dressing-room, and Mrs. Girdle bestirred herself to -find an appropriate dress for Helen. A plain white muslin was selected, -looped at the sleeves with blue ribbons. Some little alterations were -made in the arrangement of her hair, and Mrs. Girdle seemed satisfied. - -“No need of artificial color here,” said she, with a glance at Helen’s -flushed cheeks. “Nature has taken care of that. You are really very -pretty, Miss Ford.” - -“Thank you,” said Helen; “but it sounds strange to have you call me Miss -Ford. Nobody calls me so.” - -“What is your name, then?” - -“Helen.” - -“I am glad it is a pretty one. It suits you better. Does no one tell you -that you are pretty?” - -“Sometimes.” - -“And does it not make you feel vain?” - -“Why should it?” inquired Helen, seeming surprised. - -Mrs. Girdle looked at her with some curiosity. It was long since she had -met with one so natural and transparent, and she hardly knew how to -understand her. The world she had lived in did not abound in such -characters. - -“Now, my dear,” she said, after a pause, “since you are quite ready, and -there is still a little time left, you had better run back to the stage -and just hum over your songs to yourself. In that way you will be -getting accustomed to the place.” - -Seven o’clock came, and with it the opening of the doors. Then the -audience began to assemble at first in small groups afterwards in larger -parties, till by and by every available seat was taken. Among them came -M’lle Fanchette, the aristocratic _modiste_, Helen’s fellow-lodger. She -wore a superb bonnet of white satin, above which fluttered a feather of -stately and imposing elevation, making her a very magnificent personage -in her own opinion. She was in unusually good spirits, having secured -the escort and attendance of the young clerk, whose youth she regarded -as a compliment to her own juvenility, to which she still clung -tenaciously. She had in her hand a large opera-glass, which she used -with a freedom which made her more conspicuous than her companion -desired. - -The theatre was crowded—chiefly in consequence of the new play and the -new actor. Soon the orchestra commenced playing, and a few minutes later -the curtain rose. - -The play, in some measure, disappointed the expectations of the -audience. The star was but poorly supported by the stock company, who -had been compelled to get up their parts at short notice. It was, -perhaps, the consciousness of this poor support that made the leading -actor’s personation less striking and effective than usual. The audience -remained cold, and seldom indulged in applause. It seemed desirable, -therefore, that the remaining parts of the performance should go off -well. - -Helen had watched the progress of the play from one of the wings. Her -unpractised eyes could not detect deficiencies, and she became so -absorbed as to forget for the time being that she herself was soon to -take part. As the curtain fell, the manager walked hastily forward to -the place where she stood. - -“Miss Ford,” he said, “you will be called immediately. We shall expect -you to do your best. Above all, don’t allow yourself to be frightened. -Think as little as possible of the audience, and you will do well -enough.” - -Until this moment Helen had not thought of the possibility of failure. -Now the conviction dawned upon her in all its force, that she was about -to sing before two thousand people—she who had always lived in such -perfect quiet and tranquillity. Her heart began to flutter like an -imprisoned bird, and her color went and came. For a moment she felt that -she would gladly be back in her humble room by her father’s side. At -this trying moment she felt a gentle touch upon her arm. Turning -quickly, her eyes rested on the kind face of Mrs. Girdle. - -“Oh, Mrs. Girdle,” she whispered, in a tremulous tone. “I am so -frightened. I don’t dare to go on.” - -“Keep up your courage, Helen,” said her friend, gently pressing her -hand. “I can understand your feelings, for I have passed through a -similar ordeal. It _is_ a trial, but one through which you will pass -triumphantly. You have only to fancy that you are singing in your own -room at home. Make a resolute effort, and you will succeed.” - -“I will try,” said Helen, more composed. - -“Miss Ford!” - -It was the call-boy’s voice, and she hurried to the place from which she -was to make her entrance upon the stage. Another moment and she stood -before the audience. There was something so sweet and simple in her -loveliness, that a general murmur of approbation was heard, and then -there was a round of applause. This came near unnerving Helen. She -caught a glimpse of the sea of faces that were turned towards her, and -her head began to whirl. But Mrs. Girdle’s reassuring words came back to -her. Above all, the thought of her father, in whose behalf she had taken -this step, inspired her with a determination to succeed. The blush of -momentary embarrassment which suffused her face did her no harm. It -enlisted the warm sympathy of the audience, who again exhibited their -good-will by a fresh outbreak of applause. - -There was one present, however, who gazed at Helen as if petrified with -astonishment. - -“Look!” ejaculated M’lle Fanchette, convulsively clutching the arm of -her companion. “If there isn’t Helen Ford on the stage. I can scarcely -believe my eyes.” - -“I believe you are right,” returned the young gentleman addressed. “I -had no idea she was connected with the theatre.” - -“It can’t be possible she’s going to sing!” ejaculated M’lle Fanchette. -“Well, if ever——” - -Just then the music struck up. - -In a voice slightly tremulous, but gaining in strength as she proceeded, -Helen commenced. There was no fear of failure now. She had forgotten the -audience. She sang with all the freedom and joyousness of a bird, as if -her whole heart was in the song. There was an indefinable charm about -her manner, so thoroughly natural in its simplicity. She was evidently -winning golden opinions. - -As the last note died away, a storm of applause greeted her from all -parts of the house. This recalled Helen to herself. No longer occupied -by the song, she gazed around her half bewildered, with the air of a -startled fawn. At this moment a magnificent bouquet, thrown from one of -the boxes, alighted at her feet. Too little accustomed to the stage to -understand that it was meant for her, she was about to withdraw without -taking it, when a hoarse whisper was heard from one of the wings, “Pick -it up.” - -Mechanically she obeyed the direction, and bowing hastily, her cheeks -burning with confusion, she retreated from the stage. - -The manager met her. - -“You have done very well, Miss Ford,” he said, encouragingly. “They are -calling you back. You must go on the stage once more. And mind you don’t -undo the favorable impression you have already produced.” - -Go back again! Helen’s heart fluttered nervously, but there was no -appeal. She drew a long breath, and went back. - -Her re-appearance was greeted with enthusiasm. Then followed a profound -silence—a hush of expectation. The clear voice of Helen once more broke -the stillness, as she re-commenced her song. Helen’s eyes were directed -towards the audience, but she saw them not. She was carried back in -memory to the time when she sang this song at her mother’s knee, and -unconsciously a gentle pathos and tone of repressed feeling blended with -her notes that touched the audience, and hushed them to earnest -attention. - -There was a hard-featured Scotchman who sat in one of the front seats in -the parquet, who, listening intently, furtively wiped a tear from his -eye. - -“She’s a sweet lassie,” he said, in a low tone, to his neighbor. -“There’s a look about her that minds me of one I shall never see again.” - -And the worthy Scotchman, whose heart was tender, though his manner was -rough and his features hard, thought sadly of a flower that once bloomed -in his home, but had faded early,—transplanted to the gardens of -Paradise. - -“Well!” remarked M’lle Fanchette, fanning herself violently, “to think -of the forwardness of that child. If she had any modesty, she wouldn’t -brazen it out before the public with so much boldness.” - -“She seems modest enough,” replied Alphonso Eustace, to whom this remark -was addressed, “and she certainly sings magnificently. Her voice is -superb.” - -“I saw nothing very remarkable about her singing,” returned the lady, -fanning herself with increased violence. “I suppose there are other -people that have voices as well as she. I used to sing myself, but -nothing on earth would have tempted me to make such a public exhibition -of myself.” - -Her companion thought it extremely doubtful whether M’lle Fanchette -would ever be tempted to break her resolution, but thought it most -prudent to remain silent. - -Meanwhile, Helen was greeted in a very different manner behind the -scenes. Mrs. Girdle came forward, and congratulated her with a beaming -smile upon her success. - -“You have done beautifully, my dear child. Were you frightened when you -first went on?” - -“A little; but I remembered your words, and I succeeded in forgetting -the audience. I am so glad you think I did well.” - -“You couldn’t have done better.” - -Of course, Helen was pleased and happy,—happy in the thought that she -had pleased those who were interested for her. The thought that she had -personally achieved a triumph never presented itself to her. For, in -spite of her splendid endowments, she was singularly free from vanity, -or even from the consciousness which would have led to such a feeling. -Her chief thought was, that she should now be enabled to contribute to -her father’s comforts by her pay at the theatre, and that thus he would -be able to keep on with his labors, and perfect his invention. - -Late at night she reached her humble lodging. Her father was already -sleeping. Quickly undressing herself, she crept softly into bed, and in -five minutes the weary child was sleeping also. - - - - - CHAPTER XIII. - ABSENT ON BUSINESS. - - -The afternoon was already well advanced when Richard Sharp rose -leisurely from the arm-chair in which he had been lounging. He threw -aside the stump of a cigar which he had been smoking, and walking to the -window, looked out. - -“I wonder if it is going to rain,” he thought. “I must raise an umbrella -somewhere.” - -After passing his fingers through his bristling locks, which had the -effect of giving each particular hair an upward tendency,—a favorite -habit of Mr. Sharp, who regards it perhaps as the sign of an aspiring -intellect,—our attorney put on his white hat and, opening the door of -his office, stepped out upon the landing. Before locking the door he -carefully affixed a card bearing upon it, in bold characters, “Absent on -Business.” Mr. Sharp never dispenses with this little formality, even -when he is only going round the corner to order an oyster-stew, or to a -neighboring hotel to while away an hour at billiards. Entertaining broad -and philosophic views of life, he regards any action, however trivial, -in the light of business; and with this idea feels abundantly justified -in leaving behind him this standing notice. And who shall say he is not -right? - -It chanced on this particular occasion, however, that Mr. Sharp’s -business was really of a professional character. - -On the stairs our lawyer met a stout, puffy little counsellor, whose -business yielded him probably an income of from eight to ten thousand -dollars a year. Mr. Sharp bowed with a mixture of condescension and -affability. Passing a door on a lower floor, he noticed an umbrella -standing outside. Was it in a fit of absence of mind that Mr. Sharp -appropriated it, and with innocent unconsciousness raised it above his -head when he got into the street? If so, his temporary abstraction -served him in good stead since the rain was already beginning to fall. - -Reaching the street he was accosted by a newsboy who was anxious to -place in his hands a sheet containing a record of all the latest news -that had transpired in both hemispheres—and all for the insignificant -sum of five cents! Mr. Sharp took the paper. He then began to fumble -about in his pocket for the required change. - -“Bless me!” he exclaimed, after two or three dives which brought forth -nothing, “I believe on my soul that I haven’t got any change. Such a -ridiculously small sum, too!” - -He looked pensively at the boy, who gazed at him in return in patient -expectation. - -After a moment’s pause the lawyer explained, suddenly, “Perhaps you can -change a fifty?” - -“Half a dollar!” said the boy, briskly, “Oh, yes!” and he forthwith -pulled out a handful of small silver pieces mingled with pennies. - -“My young friend,” remarked Mr. Sharp, graciously, “I meant a -fifty-dollar bill.” - -The newsboy whistled. “Perhaps you take me for a bank,” he remarked. “I -can’t change no fifties. I can change a one or a two may be.” - -“My boy,” said the attorney, with a gentle intonation. “I never carry -small bills about with me. If you will call on me to-morrow, I will take -another paper.” - -The little newsboy looked in bewilderment after the retreating form of -Mr. Sharp. There was something wrong unquestionably. He had parted with -his paper, and had not obtained an equivalent. But how could he summon -up confidence to dun a man of such magnificent conceptions that a bill -representing his entire capital would be too small for him to carry -about. - -“I’d a good deal rather trade with people that ain’t so darned rich,” -thought the newsboy, ruefully. - -Then it occurred to him that his customer had asked him to call the next -day, and he had not been told where to call. Mr. Sharp was still near, -and he determined to run after him and inquire. - -In a minute or two the lawyer was made sensible of a slight tugging at -his coat-tail. Looking around, his eye rested on the little newsboy. - -“Well, my friend,” said he, blandly, “in what way can I serve you?” - -“You asked me to leave you a paper to-morrow, but I don’t know where you -live.” - -“O yes, certainly,” said Mr. Sharp, “how could I be so neglectful? You -will find me at any time in my office, third story, round the corner. -Anybody will tell you where. And now, as I am called away upon important -business, I shall be compelled to request you to release your hold upon -my coat-tail.” - -So saying he smiled benignantly, and walked away. - -“‘Third story, round the corner;’” slowly repeated the boy. “‘Anybody -will tell me!’ What corner, I’d like to know? And how in thunder am I to -know what third story it is, and who I am to ask for when I find it?” - -The young merchant shook his head dubiously as these formidable queries -suggested themselves to him, and came to the conclusion that he was no -better off than before he inquired. - -Meanwhile Mr. Sharp pursued his way, smiling complacently as he thought -of the admirable manner in which he had obtained possession of the -newspaper without rendering an equivalent. - -“You’re a shrewd fellow, Sharp,” said he to himself. “There are not many -who would have managed it so cleverly.” - -Mr. Sharp kept on his way with quiet dignity, dispensing affable smiles -to such acquaintances as he met. Sometimes his smiles were returned with -cold nods, by such as were familiar with his unscrupulous character; but -our lawyer was on such good terms with himself, that these little -rebuffs appeared to have no effect upon him. At length he paused before -Mrs. Morton’s boarding-house. Opening the outer door, he ascended three -flights of stairs until he reached Mr. Ford’s apartment. He knocked, but -although sounds were heard from within there was no response. Rightly -judging that Mr. Ford was so preoccupied that he had not heard or -noticed the knock, he knocked again, this time louder. As this too was -disregarded, he opened the door softly and went in. - -It was the afternoon preceding Helen’s _début_ at the theatre, and this -accounted for her absence. Mr. Sharp was secretly glad to find it so, -judging that Helen’s presence might possibly interfere with his object -in calling. - -“Mr. Ford,” he said, bowing benignantly, as that gentleman chanced to -look up, “I beg you will pardon my entering so unceremoniously. I have -availed myself of the polite invitation you so kindly extended some days -since, to look in upon you and observe your progress. I knocked twice, -but understanding that you were too absorbed to hear it, I took the -liberty of opening the door without leave.” - -Mr. Ford politely expressed his pleasure at seeing him, though it -required an effort on his part to recall the name of his visitor, or the -circumstances under which they had first met. “In spite of my numerous -engagements,” resumed Mr. Sharp, “I could not forego the pleasure of -looking in upon you at your labors. I have many times blessed the chance -which procured me the acquaintance of yourself and your amiable -daughter. I look upon you, my dear sir, as engaged in a work of infinite -importance to society, and to the welfare of the human race. And in -after years, when posterity shall have done ample justice to your -merits, when your name has been elevated to its appropriate place beside -those of Watt and Franklin—and—Christopher Columbus, it will be my -proudest boast that I recognized your claims to the world’s gratitude in -advance of others.” - -To Mr. Ford, who was thoroughly convinced of the practicability of his -invention, and its great importance to the world, this language did not -seem extravagant. Never doubting his visitor’s sincerity, he could not -but feel grateful for the meed of encouragement to which he was a -stranger. At the request of Mr. Sharp he began to explain some of the -chief features in his invention, the lawyer listening with the greatest -apparent interest. - -“It is admirable!” he exclaimed, with enthusiasm. “Take my word for it, -it must and will succeed. But pardon me for suggesting that with better -materials your model would be likely to prove more satisfactory. An -inventor should be able to command large means in order to perfect his -plans.” - -“Of that I am aware,” said Mr. Ford, with hesitation. “But, as you have -no doubt inferred, from the style in which Helen and I live, my means -are very limited.” - -“No more,” said Mr. Sharp, warmly, “I anticipate all that you would say. -Yet, if you will pardon me the question, why do you not apply to your -friends for a loan?” - -Mr. Ford shook his head, smiling faintly. “It would be of no use,” he -said. - -“Sir,” said the worthy attorney, grasping the hand of the inventor with -an effusion of emotion, “you do your friends injustice. To convince you -of it, I, the unworthiest of those whose proud privilege it is to bear -that title, offer to loan you two hundred dollars. It is not much——” - -“But, my dear sir——” - -“No, sir, you shall not object. I am determined to connect my name in -some way with this important discovery. To satisfy your scruples, I will -consent to your signing this note for the amount. You may affix your -signature while I am counting the money.” - -“But I may never be able to pay you.” - -“That risk is mine. I ask no security. I claim no interest. It is enough -that in this way I am able to link my name with modest merit, and aid in -bringing forward a discovery which will prove of incalculable benefit to -mankind.” - -Poor Mr. Ford! He was tempted beyond his power of resistance. This -timely aid would enable him to carry out plans which he thought likely -to expedite his final triumph. Yes, he would accept what was so -generally proffered. A little while and he would be able to repay the -loan with interest. So at least he was sanguine enough to think. - -“I cannot thank you sufficiently,” he said, warmly, “for this mark of -generous and disinterested friendship towards a comparative stranger. -The delicacy with which you tender this loan removes all the objections -I might otherwise have to receiving it. Again I thank you.” - -He signed the note and handed it to Mr. Sharp, who took from his -pocket-book the sum mentioned and laid it on the table. The lawyer put -the note into his pocket, saying, as he did so, “This strip of paper is -to me of inestimable value in so far as it connects me with one whose -name, I am sure, will be handed down to fame as one of the greatest of -modern inventors. But, sir, my mission is accomplished, I will not -further trespass upon your valuable time. I trust you will not scruple -to use freely the money I have advanced for the furtherance of your -great purpose. I shall claim the privilege of sometimes looking in upon -you and witnessing your progress.” - -“You will always be most welcome,” said Mr. Ford, cordially. - -“Rather a clever operation that!” thought Mr. Sharp, as he threaded his -way down stairs. “It was a capital idea, making out the note for three -hundred dollars and only paying him two. I knew he would never detect -it. After all, the extra hundred will do more good in my hands than in -Ford’s, who would only waste it on his crazy invention. My client will -never be the wiser. By the way, he must have some deep scheme on foot, -or he would never throw away such a sum on a crack-brained enthusiast. I -think, old fellow, you’ve earned a good oyster-supper, with a glass or -so to make it go down. Talking has made me as dry as a herring.” - -And the benevolent Mr. Sharp, who was so anxious to connect his name -with an important discovery in science, gravely entered a neighboring -saloon and called for something to drink. Human nature is not at all -times heroic. - - - - - CHAPTER XIV. - HELEN MAKES KNOWN HER ENGAGEMENT. - - -It was again morning. Helen sat at the window, which was thrown wide -open to admit the pleasant breeze that rustled in and out like a -restless sprite, laden, not with rich odors and sweet perfumes from -green fields, but resonant with the noises of the crowded city streets. - -There was an expression of doubt and perplexity in Helen’s face. She was -considering whether it would be possible to make known to her father her -engagement at the theatre, without, at the same time, revealing the -motive which had led her to seek it. She was assured that her father -would feel deeply pained if he knew the real state of the case, and she -dreaded that he might object to her keeping her engagement. While she -was hesitating, her father suddenly turned from his work and met her -glance. - -“A penny for your thoughts, Helen,” he said, with unwonted playfulness. - -“My thoughts!” and she blushed consciously. “I am afraid, papa, they are -not worth so much.” - -“How cool and refreshing is the air!” mused Mr. Ford, as he stood for a -moment at the window. “Mark how beautifully the clouds are tinged with -the faintest flush of red. Well have the old poets spoken of morning as -‘rosy-fingered.’ Would you like to go out for a walk, Helen?” - -Helen looked up at the clock. It lacked yet two hours of the time for -rehearsal. There would be plenty of time for a walk, which, with her -father, was never a long one. - -“Perhaps I shall be able to say something about my engagement, on the -way,” she thought. - -She silently got her bonnet, and, placing her hand in that of her -father, descended the stairs into the street. Here all was life and -activity. In the early morning of a pleasant day the streets of a great -city present a pleasant and cheerful aspect. Everything is full of stir -and bustle. Even the jaded dray-horse pricks up his ears, and shows some -signs of life. Boys and girls expend their superabundant activity in -bounding along the sidewalk, and even the man of business seems -lightened of a portion of his cares. There is a subtile electricity in -the air, which unconsciously affects the spirits of all, and lights up -many faces with vague hopefulness. - -Helen yielded herself up to the influences of the morning, and a quiet -sense of happiness stole over her. She thought how beautiful in itself -is the gift of life, and how glad we ought to be for the bright -sunshine, and the clear, refreshing air, and the beautiful earth. The -conflicts of life were lost sight of. She forgot, in the exhilaration of -her spirits, that the days were sometimes dark, and the clouds leaden. -Her father seemed affected in a similar way. A faint flush crept to his -wan cheek, and his step became more elastic. - -“How the difficulties and embarrassments of our daily lives fade away in -this glorious sunshine!” he said, musingly. “Sometimes I have had fears -that my discovery would never prove available; but to-day success seems -almost within my grasp. It would be a sin to doubt, when all Nature -whispers auguries of hope.” - -“You must succeed, papa,” said Helen, cheerfully. - -“So I feel now. I catch the inspiration of this cooling breeze. It -breathes new life into me. It gives me fresh courage to work, for the -end draws near.” - -Mr. Ford relapsed into silence, and Helen walked quietly by his side, -occupied with her own thoughts. All at once she became sensible that she -had attracted the attention of a little knot of boys, who were -conversing together in a low tone, pointing first to her, and then to a -large placard posted conspicuously on the wall beside her. - -“That’s she!” she heard pronounced in an audible voice. “I saw her last -night.” - -Following the direction of their fingers, she started in surprise on -reading, in large capitals, her own name. It was the bill of the -evening’s entertainment in the theatre at which she was engaged. The -surprise was so unexpected, that she uttered a half-exclamation, which, -however, was sufficient to draw her father’s attention to the bill. - - THE TALENTED YOUNG VOCALIST, - - _MISS HELEN FORD_, - - WILL MAKE HER SECOND APPEARANCE THIS EVENING IN A POPULAR SONG. - -“It is very strange,” said Mr. Ford, stopping short as he read this -announcement; “some one having the same name with you, Helen?” - -“No, papa,” said she, in a low voice. - -“No?” repeated her father, in surprise. “Then you don’t see the name.” - -“Will you promise not to be angry with me, papa, if I tell you all.” - -“Angry! Am I often angry with you, Helen?” - -“No, no! I did not mean that. But perhaps you will think I have done -wrong.” - -“I am still in the dark, Helen.” - -“Then,” said the young girl, hurriedly, and with flushed face, “that is -_my_ name. I am the Helen Ford whose name is on the bill.” - -“You, Helen!” exclaimed her father, in undisguised amazement. - -“Yes, papa. I have been wanting to tell you all this morning; but I -hardly knew how.” - -“I don’t understand. Have you ever sung there?” - -“Last night, for the first time.” - -Helen proceeded to give her father a circumstantial account of her -interview with the manager, her repulse at first, and her subsequent -engagement. She added that she had hesitated to tell him, lest he should -object to her accepting it. She next spoke of her first appearance upon -the stage,—how at first she was terrified at sight of the crowded -audience, but had succeeded in overcoming her timidity, and lost all -consciousness of her trying position in the enjoyment of singing. - -“You have forgotten one thing, Helen,” said her father, gravely. “You -have not told me what first gave you the idea of singing in public.” - -“It was Martha,” said Helen, in some embarrassment, foreseeing what was -coming. “One day I sang in her room, and she was so well pleased, that -she told me I might one day become a public singer.” - -“And that was all, Helen?” - -“What else should there be, papa?” she answered, evasively. - -“Indeed, I do not know. I thought it might be because you supposed we -were poor, and wished to earn some money. But you see, Helen, there is -no need of that;” and he drew out his pocket-book, and displayed to the -child’s astonished gaze the roll of bills which Mr. Sharp had insisted -on loaning him the day previous. - -“Indeed, papa, I had no idea you were so rich.” - -“A kind friend lent me this money yesterday.” - -“Who was it, papa?” - -“You remember a man who came to see us a fortnight since,—a tall man -with a white hat?” - -“Yes, papa.” - -“He lent me the money.” - -“Did you ask him, papa?” - -“No; it was his own generous offer.” - -“But suppose he should want you to pay it by and by, and you did not -have the money?” suggested Helen, uneasily. - -“There is no fear on that score. He desires to assist me with my -invention, and suggested, very properly, that with improved materials my -progress would become more rapid. Once let me succeed, and I shall be -able to repay the loan, if it were twice as large. He will never think -of asking me for it before. He is a very generous-hearted man, Helen, -and he only called it a loan because he knew that I should be unwilling -to accept a gift.” - -Helen could not gainsay her father’s words. She could not conceive of -any evil purpose on the part of Mr. Sharp; yet, somehow, an -unaccountable sense of anxiety and apprehension of coming evil, in -connection with this loan, would force itself upon her mind. - -“Perhaps,” said Mr. Ford, with a sudden thought, “you may need something -that I can buy you,—some article of dress, or perhaps you may require an -additional sum for the purchase of our daily necessaries. I am so much -occupied in other ways that I do not always think of these things.” - -“No, papa,” said Helen, hurriedly. “I do not need anything.” - -Then, yielding to an uncontrollable impulse, she exclaimed, “Dear papa, -do not use any of this money. Pray, return it to this man, and tell him -you do not need it.” - -“But it will be very useful to me, Helen. Besides, it would be a very -uncivil way of meeting such a generous offer. You are a foolish child. -What has put this fancy into your head?” - -“I don’t know,” said Helen, slowly; “but I feel as if this money may do -us some harm.” - -“What possible harm can come of it?” asked Mr. Ford, surprised at the -child’s earnestness. - -“I do not like to think that you are in anybody’s power, papa.” - -“We are all in the power of God, my child.” - -“I did not mean that, papa.” - -“And He is abundantly able to shield us from evil. Is it not so, Helen?” - -Helen was silenced, but not wholly convinced. This was the more -remarkable, since nothing was more foreign to her nature than to cherish -distrust of any living thing. Even now, her feeling was rather an -instinctive foreboding than any clearly-defined suspicion. The presence -of Mr. Sharp, polite and affable as he appeared, had not impressed her -pleasantly,—why, she could not tell. Oftentimes children are truer in -their instinctive perception of character than their elders. It is -fortunate that, in the absence of that knowledge which experience alone -can give, they should be provided with this safeguard against the evil -designs of those who might injure them. - -Nine o’clock pealed from the lofty steeple of Trinity. Helen heard the -strokes as one by one they rang out upon the air, and she was warned of -the near approach of the hour for rehearsal. - -“It is nearly time for rehearsal,” she said, looking up in her father’s -face. “Shall I go?” - -“Do you really wish to go, Helen?” - -“I really wish it, papa.” - -“Then I will not interfere to prevent you. I have so much confidence in -you, my child, that I am willing to trust you where others might suffer -harm.” - -The father and child parted. One returned to his humble lodging in the -fourth story back; the other wended her way to the theatre. - - - - - CHAPTER XV. - THE OPPOSITE LODGER. - - -During the day Helen, in ascending the stairs, encountered M’lle -Fanchette. - -“So you have become quite a public character, Miss Ford,” said the -_modiste_, superciliously. - -Helen looked up, but did not speak. - -“I heard you sing at the theatre, last evening.” - -“Yes, madam.” - -“Nothing would have induced me to come forward so publicly at your age. -However, I suppose you don’t mind it.” - -“No,” said Helen, with rising color; “I don’t mind it, since it enables -me to earn money for my father.” - -“Isn’t your father well? It isn’t usual for children to be called upon -to support their parents.” - -“Good morning, M’lle Fanchette,” said Helen, abruptly. The implied -censure upon her father kindled her resentment as no insult to herself -would have done. - -M’lle Fanchette looked after her with a sneer. “So my lady is putting on -airs, is she? I don’t believe her father’s invention will ever come to -anything. Perhaps I had better take no further notice of her.” - -Just as Helen reached the door of her father’s room, she saw the -occupant of the opposite apartment standing at his door. He was a young -man of middle height, with a face whose boyish bloom had hardly given -place to the more mature expression of manhood. - -“Good morning, Miss Ford,” he said, pleasantly. - -“Good morning, Mr. Coleman.” - -“I was just about to ask a favor of you and your father.” - -Helen thought he might be intending to ask a loan of some little -article, for it had come to her knowledge that he was boarding himself. - -“I am sure we shall be happy to grant it,” she said, cheerfully. - -“I suppose you know that I am an artist, or trying to be,” said the -young man. “I have just finished a picture for exhibition at the -Academy. No one has seen it yet, and I, perhaps, am not a fair judge of -its merits. I should be very glad if you and Mr. Ford would take a look -at it, and favor me with your opinion of it.” - -“I shall be delighted to see it, and so will papa, I know,” returned -Helen. “I will speak to him immediately.” - -“Papa,” she said, entering the room, “Mr. Coleman is kind enough to -invite us to look at a picture he has painted.” - -“I beg your pardon, my dear,” said Mr. Ford, looking up abstractedly. -“Did you speak?” - -Helen repeated the invitation. - -“I shall be most happy,” said Mr. Ford, courteously. “Let us go at -once.” - -The opposite room was fitted up as an artist’s studio,—plainly enough, -for young Coleman was, as yet, only a struggling aspirant, without a -name and without orders. - -On an easel was the picture of which he had spoken. The subject was, “A -country farm-house at sunrise.” Broad and low, suggestive less of beauty -than of substantial comfort, it stood prominently out. The farmer in his -shirt-sleeves was leaning carelessly against the fence, watching a group -of cattle who were just emerging from the barn, followed by the farmer’s -son, a stout boy of fourteen. There was a cart in the yard near the -house, a plough, and a variety of accessories carefully selected to -imitate nature as scrupulously as possible. The whole painting was -exceedingly natural. - -“It is beautiful,” said Helen, with childish enthusiasm. - -“Thank you,” said the young man, smiling. - -“It looks very familiar to me,” said Mr. Ford. “It seems to me as if I -had seen the very farm-house you have represented.” - -“Thank you. I may dare to hope, then, that I have been reasonably true -to nature.” - -“In that respect I think you have succeeded wonderfully. You must have -been born in the country, Mr. Coleman.” - -“Yes, sir; I am a farmer’s son.” - -“What made you think of becoming an artist?” asked Helen. - -“I believe it was a severe punishment I received at school.” - -Helen looked surprised. - -“I see you don’t understand how that should have had such an influence -in determining my career. Let me explain. I used from time to time to -draw upon the slate pictures of my school-mates, which were regarded by -the originals as very successful. One winter the Prudential Committee -selected as teacher a young man of very singular appearance. His nose -was immensely large, and of odd shape. One day, after finishing my sums -in arithmetic, the fancy seized me to draw a picture of the teacher. I -became interested in the portrait, so that when my class was called up I -did not hear the summons, but kept on with my sketch. Seeing how I was -employed, Mr. Hargrave stepped up behind me on tiptoe, and to his -inexpressible anger beheld the counterfeit presentment of himself, in -which full justice was done to his leading deformity. He was probably -sensible of his lack of beauty, and correspondingly sensitive. At all -events, he was so far from appreciating my efforts, that he seized me by -the collar, swung me out into the middle of the school-room, and gave me -a cruel punishment, from which I did not for some time recover. I did -not go back to school, my father being too indignant with the teacher -for his unreasonable severity. He was desirous of seeing the sketch -which had excited so strong a resentment. I accordingly reproduced it -with a pencil as carefully as I could, and my father took the trouble to -have it framed, and hung up in the sitting-room, where it attracted -considerable attention and many encomiums. I believe it was this -incident which led me to think seriously of becoming an artist by -profession. Twelve months since my father gave me what little money he -could spare, and I came to New York to establish myself.” - -“And what encouragement have you received, Mr. Coleman?” asked Mr. Ford, -with kindly interest. - -“Of pecuniary encouragement, none,” was the reply. “That, however, it is -too early to expect. I have been a part of the time in the studio of an -established artist,—till two months since in fact,—obtaining what -knowledge I absolutely required. Then I transferred my studio to this -room. You see before you the result of my two months’ labor.” - -“You have made an excellent beginning. I feel safe in predicting your -success.” - -“Thank you, sir. You asked me what encouragement I had received. Your -kind anticipation is among the most valuable.” - -“I do not, of course, profess to be a competent judge,” said Mr. Ford; -“but I think an inexperienced eye will see much to commend in your -painting. It’s truth to nature is very striking. It is a pity you could -not study abroad.” - -“It is my ardent wish,” said the young man, “but quite beyond my power -to compass. I have now been a year in the city, learning much, as I -hope, but earning nothing. This has nearly brought me to the end of my -scanty resources. I shall not be able to continue thus much longer. I -confess to have built some hopes upon the picture I have just painted. -If I could secure a purchaser at a fair price, it would enable me to -protract my residence, which otherwise must soon be brought to an end.” - -“There is one bond of fellowship between us, then,” said Mr. Ford, -smiling; “that of poverty. I, too, am working on in present need, hoping -some day to achieve success, and with it money. But in one respect I -have the advantage of you. My little daughter, here,” placing his hand -affectionately on Helen’s head, “cheers me with her presence and -sympathy, and is of more substantial help besides. I don’t know what I -should do without her.” - -“O father!” said Helen. - -“It is all true, my child. Even now, she has obtained an engagement to -sing at the theatre, chiefly, as I think, though she will not admit it, -because she thinks the money will be of use to me.” - -“Indeed!” said the young artist. “I observed in this morning’s paper a -very flattering account of the _début_ of a young singer bearing your -daughter’s name, but I had no idea it was she. Wait a moment, here it -is.” - -The young man pointed out the paragraph to Mr. Ford, who read it with -proud gratification. It was pleasant to him to find that the daughter -who was so dear to him should be appreciated by the public. - -“Helen, I shall become proud of you,” he said. - -“And I shall return the compliment, papa,—you know when. Papa, I want to -whisper to you a moment.” - -“Certainly, my dear; that is, if Mr. Coleman will excuse the -impoliteness.” - -“Don’t mention it, sir. I hope you will consider me so far a friend, as -to treat me unceremoniously.” - -“Mr. Coleman,” said Mr. Ford, after his whispered conference with Helen, -“my daughter desires me to invite you to dine with us. I trust you will -feel inclined to accept the invitation.” - -“With the greatest pleasure,” said the young man, his face brightening -up. - -“I need hardly tell you that we do not fare very sumptuously.” - -The young man laughed. “And I need hardly assure you, sir, that I am -quite unused to sumptuous fare. Frankly, but for your invitation, my -dinner would have consisted of some dry bread and a couple of sausages.” - -“You can reserve those till to-morrow, then. I really don’t know what -Helen will give us. She allows no dictation in the commissary -department.” - -“Now, papa,” remonstrated Helen, “what will Mr. Coleman think of me? You -are making me out to be a dreadful tyrant.” - -“I thought it best to put him on his guard. Since you are kind enough to -accept our invitation, Mr. Coleman, Helen will knock at your door when -dinner is ready. Good morning.” - -“Good morning, sir. I shall be quite ready for the summons.” - -The artist went back to his work, but the image of Helen’s childish -beauty occasionally rose up before him, and he could not help wishing -that Heaven had given him such a sister. - - - - - CHAPTER XVI. - THE MUFFLED FACE. - - -Apparently brighter days had dawned upon Helen and her father. With Mr. -Sharp’s loan and Helen’s weekly salary they were no longer obliged to -practice the pinching economy which, until now, had been a necessity. -Helen could now venture to add an occasional luxury to their daily fare -without being compelled to consider anxiously how many dollars yet -remained in the common purse. The landlady’s call for the rent was now -cheerfully received. Helen always had the amount carefully laid aside. -No one rejoiced more sincerely in their new prosperity than the worthy -landlady, who though forced to look after her own interests, had a large -heart, full of kindly sympathy for those who were doing their best in -the struggle of life. - -“I only wish all my lodgers were equally prompt, my dear,” she said, one -day. “It’s really disagreeable to call on some of them; they look as if -you were the last person they wanted to see, and pay down their rent -just for all the world as if it was something you had no right to, but -were trying to exact from them. Now you always look cheerful, and pay me -as if it was a pleasure for you to do it.” - -“And so it is,” said Helen, blithely. “But it wasn’t so always. I think, -Mother Morton, that the pleasure of paying away money depends upon -whether you are sure of any more after that is gone.” - -“I don’t know but you are right,” said the landlady. “But I know it -isn’t so with some. There’s Mrs. Ferguson used to occupy my first floor -front, living on her income, of which she didn’t spend half. I suppose -she never had less than two or three hundred dollars on hand in her -trunk lying idle, but she’d put me off as long as she could about -paying, for no earthly reason except because she hated to part with her -money. I stood it as long as I could, till one day I told her plainly -that I knew she had the money, and she must pay it or go. She took a -miff and went off, and I didn’t mourn much for her. But, bless my soul! -here I am running on, when I ought to be down stairs giving orders about -the dinner.” - -Mr. Ford invested a portion of his borrowed capital in a variety of -articles which he conceived would assist him in his invention. Although -to outward appearance success was quite as distant as ever, it was -perhaps a happy circumstance for Mr. Ford that he constantly believed -himself on the eve of attaining his purpose. Indeed, he labored so -enthusiastically that his health began to suffer. The watchful eyes of -Helen detected this, and she felt that it was essential that her father -should have a greater variety and amount of exercise. She determined, -therefore, to propose some pleasant excursion, which would have the -effect of diverting his thoughts for a time from the subject which so -completely engrossed them. - -Accordingly, one Saturday morning, having no duties at the theatre -during the day, she said to her father, as he was about to settle -himself to his usual employment, “Papa, I have a favor to ask.” - -“Well, my child?” - -“I don’t want you to work to-day.” - -“Why,” said Mr. Ford, half absently; “it isn’t Sunday, is it?” - -“No,” said Helen, laughing; “but it is Saturday, and I think we ought to -take a holiday.” - -“To be sure,” said Mr. Ford, thinking that Helen needed one. “I ought to -have spoken of it before. And what shall we do, Helen? what would you -like to do?” - -“I’ll tell you, papa, of a grand plan; I thought of it yesterday, as I -was looking at the advertisements in the paper. Suppose we go to Staten -Island in the steamboat.” - -“I believe I should enjoy it,” said Mr. Ford, brightening up. “It will -do both of us good; when shall we go?” - -“Let me see, it is eight o’clock; I think we can get ready to take the -nine o’clock boat.” - -Having once determined upon the plan, Mr. Ford showed an almost childish -eagerness to put it into execution; he fidgeted about nervously while -Helen was sweeping the floor and setting the room to rights, and -inquired half a dozen times, “Most ready, Helen?” - -Helen hailed with no little satisfaction this sign of interest on the -part of her father, and resolved that if she could accomplish it these -excursions should henceforth be more frequent. - -By nine o’clock they were on board the boat. A large number of -passengers had already gathered on the deck. The unusual beauty of the -morning had induced many to snatch from the harassing toils of business -a few hours of communion with the fresh scenes of nature. Both decks -were soon crowded with passengers. Helen, to whom this was a new -experience, enjoyed the scene not a little. She felt her spirits rising, -and it seemed to her difficult to imagine a more beautiful spectacle -than the boat with its white awnings and complement of well-dressed -passengers. They had scarcely found comfortable seats on the promenade -deck before the signal was given, and the boat cast loose from the -wharf. There is nothing more nearly approaching the act of flying than -the swift-gliding movement of a steamboat as it cleaves its way easily -and gracefully through the smooth water. - -Mr. Ford looked thoughtfully back upon the spires and roofs of the city -momentarily receding. - -“How everything has changed,” he said slowly, “since I last crossed in a -row-boat more than twenty years ago! And all this change has been -effected by the tireless energy of man. Does it not seem strange that -the outward aspect of inanimate nature should be so completely altered?” - -Half an hour landed them at the island. Helen took her father’s hand and -assumed the office of guide. They gazed with interest at the gay crowds -as they availed themselves of the means of amusement which the place -afforded. Helen even left her father long enough to take her turn in -swinging, and, flushed with the exercise, returned to him. They next -sauntered to a wooden inclosure, where wooden horses, each bearing a -rider, were revolving under the impulse of machinery. The riders -consisted partly of boys, and partly of others who were compelled to -labor hard on other days, but had been tempted, by the cheapness of the -trip, to a day’s recreation. - -Leaving Helen and her father to amuse themselves in their quiet way, we -turn our attention to others. - -Among those who were rambling hither and thither as caprice dictated, -was a young man whose pale face and attenuated figure indicated some -sedentary pursuit. His face, though intellectual, was not pleasing. -There was something in the lines about the mouth which argued moral -weakness. - -Is this description sufficient to bring back to the reader’s -recollection Jacob Wynne, the copyist, whose services had been called -into requisition by Lewis Rand? - -He was better dressed than when last introduced to the reader. The money -furnished by Rand in return for his services had supplied the means for -this outward improvement. On his arm leaned a young girl, or rather a -young woman, for she appeared about twenty-five years of age. He was -conversing with her in a low tone, but upon what subject could not be -distinguished. She listened, apparently not displeased. They walked -slowly, now in one direction, now in another. If they had not been so -occupied with one another, they might have observed that they were -followed at a little distance by a woman who kept her burning gaze fixed -upon them steadily, apparently determined not to lose sight of them a -single moment. - -This woman seemed out of place in the festive scene into which she had -introduced herself. She presented a strong contrast to the gay, -well-dressed groups through which she passed without seeming to heed -their presence. - -She was dressed in a faded calico dress, over which, notwithstanding the -heat, a ragged shawl was carelessly thrown. On her head was a -sun-bonnet, so large that it nearly concealed her features from view. -One or two who had the curiosity to look at the face, so carefully -concealed, started in alarm at the hard, fierce expression which they -detected there. Her face was very pale, save that at the centre of each -cheek there glowed a vivid red spot. It was evident that the heart of -this woman was the seat of conflicting passions. She continued to follow -Jacob Wynne, with what object it was not evident. It seemed that she did -not wish to make her presence known to him, at least in his present -company, since, on his casually turning his glances in her direction, -she drew her bonnet more closely about her features, so as to elude the -closest scrutiny, and with apparent carelessness turned away. When she -saw that his attention was again occupied by his companion she resumed -her espionage. - -At length they separated for a few minutes. Jacob’s companion expressed -a wish for a glass of water. Leaving her seated on the grass, he -hastened away to comply with her request. The woman who had followed -them so closely, as soon as she saw this, moved rapidly towards the -companion he had left, and dropped into her lap a few words written in -pencil upon a slip of paper. The latter, picking it up in surprise, read -as follows: “Beware of the man who has just left you, or you will repent -it when too late. He is not to be trusted.” - -She looked up, but could see no one likely to have given it to her. At a -little distance her eyes fell upon a shabbily-dressed woman who was -walking rapidly away, but it never crossed her mind that _she_ had -anything to do with the warning just given. If she had watched longer -she would have seen the meeting of this woman with Jacob Wynne, for it -was of him she had gone in pursuit. The latter was returning with a -glass of water when she threw herself in his path. With a glance of -surprise he was about to pass by, when she planted herself again in his -way. - - - - - CHAPTER XVII. - AN AWKWARD INTERVIEW. - - -Jacob Wynne looked in surprise at the person who so persistently barred -his progress, and exclaimed, impatiently, “What means all this foolery? -Stand aside, my good woman, and let me pass.” - -She did not move. - -The scrivener never, for a moment, suspected who she might be. It never -occurred to him that she had a special object in accosting him. He could -not see her face, for it was still concealed by the bonnet and thick -veil she wore. - -“There is something for you,” he said, throwing down a small silver -coin; for he judged that she might be a beggar. “Now stand aside, will -you, for I am in haste.” - -“So you bestow your alms upon me, as upon a beggar, Jacob Wynne,” said -the woman, with a hard, bitter laugh. As she spoke, she drew aside her -veil with an impatient movement, and allowed him a full view of her -features. - -“Margaret!” he exclaimed, recoiling so hastily as to spill the contents -of the glass. - -“Yes,—Margaret!” she repeated, in the same hard tone as before. “I dare -say you did not expect to see me here.” - -“What fiend sent you here?” he exclaimed, angrily. - -“Is it so remarkable,” she said, “that I should wish to be near you?” - -“Margaret,” said Jacob, with difficulty restraining his anger -sufficiently to assume a tone of persuasion, “consider how much -attention you will attract, dressed in this uncouth style. Go home; -there’s a good woman.” - -He looked uneasily in the direction where he had left his companion, -fearing that she might become a witness of this interview. - -“Good woman!” she laughed, wildly. “Oh, yes, you do well to call me -that. You are doing your best to make me so.” Then changing her tone, -“So you are ashamed of my dress. I will not disgrace you any longer, if -you will give me money to buy others.” - -“Well, well! we’ll talk about that when we get home. Only walk quietly -down to the boat now. You see we are attracting attention.” - -“And you will come with me?” she said, with a searching look. - -“I? no, not at present. I have an engagement,” said Jacob, in some -embarrassment. - -“Yes, I understand,” said Margaret, bitterly. “It is with her,” and she -pointed to the tree under which his late companion was yet seated. - -Jacob started. - -“You may well start,” said Margaret, whose observant eye did not fail to -detect his momentary confusion. - -“What do you mean?” he demanded, half defiantly. - -“Jacob Wynne,” she continued, sternly, fixing her penetrating eye full -upon him, “tell me who is this woman, and what she is to you. Tell me, -for I have a right to know.” - -She folded her arms and looked like an accusing spirit, as she made this -demand. The consciousness of guilt made his physical inferiority the -more conspicuous, as he met her gaze uneasily, as if meditating an -escape. - -“This is no place for the discussion of such matters,” he said, in a -tone which strove to be conciliatory. “It is all right, of course. Go -home quietly, and when I return, I will answer your questions.” - -He was mistaken if he thought thus to escape. Margaret was in a state of -high nervous excitement, and the fear of being overheard by the groups -who surrounded them was wholly lost sight of in the intensity of her -purpose. - -“Jacob,” she said, steadily, “this is not a matter to be deferred. My -suspicions have been long excited, and now I want an explanation. I -cannot live as I have lived. Sometimes I have feared,” placing her hand -upon her brow, “that my head was becoming unsettled.” - -“Your coming here to-day is no slight proof of it,” he said, hardly. “I -think you are right.” - -She threw off this insinuation, cruel as it was, with hardly a thought -of what it meant. She had but one object now, and that she must -accomplish. - -“Enough of this, Jacob,” she said, briefly. “You have not answered my -question. This woman,—what is she to you?” - -“Suppose I do not choose to tell you,” he answered, doggedly. - -“I demand an answer,” said Margaret, resolutely. “I have a right to -know.” - -The weakest natures are often the most cruel, delighting in the power -which circumstances sometimes bestow upon them of torturing those who -are infinitely their superiors. There was a cruel malignity in the -scrivener’s eyes as he repeated, slowly, “You have a right to know! -Deign to inform me of what nature is this right.” - -“Good heavens!” she exclaimed, startled out of herself by his -effrontery. “Have you the face to ask?” - -“I have,” he said, his countenance expressing the satisfaction he felt -in the blow he meditated. - -Margaret looked at him a moment, uncertain of his meaning. Then she took -a step forward and placed her hand on his arm, while she looked up in -his face with an expression which had changed suddenly from defiance to -entreaty. - -“Jacob,” she said, in a softened tone, “have you forgotten the morning -when we both stood before the altar, and pledged to each other eternal -constancy? It is ten years since, years not unmarked by sorrow and -privation, but we have been the happier for being together, have we not? -You remember our little Margaret, Jacob,—how she lighted up our humble -home with her sweet, winning ways, till God saw fit to take her to -himself? If she had lived, I don’t think you would have found it in your -heart to neglect me so. Can we not be to each other what we have been, -Jacob? I may have been in fault sometimes, with my hasty temper, but I -have never swerved from my love for you.” - -“You are at liberty to do so as soon as you like,” he said, coldly. - -“Good heavens!” she exclaimed; “and this to your wedded wife!” - -“That is a slight mistake of yours,” he returned, with a sneer, resting -his calculating eyes upon her face, as if to mark the effect of his -words. - -Her hand released its hold upon his arm, and she staggered back as if -about to fall. - -“My God! what do you mean? What can you mean? Tell me quickly, if you -would not have me go mad before your eyes.” - -“That might be the best way of ending the matter,” said he, with -deliberate cruelty. “Nevertheless I will not refuse to gratify your -reasonable curiosity. I declare to you solemnly that you are not my -wedded wife.” - -“You would deceive me,” she said, with sudden anger. - -“Not in this matter, though I acknowledge having deceived you once. The -priest who performed the ceremony was so only for that occasion.” - -Margaret passed her hand across her eyes as if she were trying to rouse -herself from some stupefying dream. - -“Surely you are jesting, Jacob,” she said, at length. “You are only -saying this to try me. Is it not so? I will only ask you this once. Are -you in earnest?” - -“I declare to you, Margaret, that you are not my wedded wife.” - -“Then,” she said in a sudden burst of fury, to which she was urged by -the sharpness of her despair. “Then I have only one thing to live for -now.” - -She turned away. - -“What do you mean?” asked Jacob, almost involuntarily, her manner -producing a vague uneasiness. - -“Revenge!” - -She drew her tattered shawl closely about her, and, though the heat was -intense, actually shivered in her fierce emotion. Jacob looked after her -as she walked rapidly away, turning neither to the right nor to the -left, and a half feeling of compunction came over him. It was only for a -moment, however, for he shook it off, muttering impatiently,— - -“Pshaw! what’s the use of fretting! It must have come sooner or later. I -suppose it was only natural to expect a scene. Well, I’m glad it’s over, -at any rate. Now I shall have one impediment out of my path.” - -Jacob’s nature was cold and cowardly, and, as may be inferred, -essentially selfish. Destitute of all the finer feelings, it was quite -impossible to understand the pain which he had inflicted on a nature so -sensitive and high-strung as that of Margaret. Nor, had he been able to -understand, would the instinct of humanity have bidden him to refrain. - -He retraced his steps to obtain another glass of water, for the one in -his hand had been spilled in the surprise of his first meeting with -Margaret. - -“Did you get tired of waiting, Ellen?” he asked, as on his return he -presented the glass to his companion. - -The suspicions excited in her mind by the mysterious warning had been -strengthened by his protracted absence. - -“You were long absent,” she said, coldly. - -“Yes,” he replied, somewhat confused. “I was unexpectedly detained.” - -“Perhaps you can explain this,” she continued, handing him the paper she -had received. - -He turned pale with anger and vexation, and incautiously muttered, “This -is some of Margaret’s work. Curse her!” - -“Who is Margaret?” asked his companion, suspiciously. - -“She,” said Jacob, hesitating, in embarrassment. “Oh, she is an -acquaintance of mine whose mind has lost its balance. You may have seen -her on the ground here. She was muffled up in a shawl and cape-bonnet. -She is always making trouble in some unexpected way.” - -That this was a fabrication, Jacob’s confused manner clearly evinced. - -“I wish to go home,” was the only response. Jacob offered his arm. - -It was rejected. They walked on, not exchanging a word. - -When they parted in New York, Jacob gave full vent to his indignation, -and hastened home to pour out his fury on Margaret, who had so seriously -interfered with his plan of allying himself with one for whom he cared -little, except that she would have brought him a small property which he -coveted. He hurried up stairs, and dashed into the room occupied by -Margaret and himself. He looked about him eagerly, but saw no one. - -Margaret had disappeared. - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII. - MARGARET’S FLIGHT. - - -When Margaret left Staten Island after her stormy interview with Jacob -Wynne, it was with a fevered brain, and a heart torn with the fiercest -emotions. This man, whom despite his unworthiness, she had loved with -all the intensity of her woman’s nature, had spurned her affection, had -ruthlessly thrown it back upon her, and with a cold refinement of -cruelty had acknowledged without reserve the gross deception he had -practised upon her. - -There are some of sensitive natures that would shrink and die under such -treatment. Margaret was differently constituted. The blow was terrible, -but she did not give way under it. It hardened her whole nature, and -excited in her a burning thirst for vengeance. Strong in hate as in -love, there sprang up in her soul a determined purpose, that, as Jacob -Wynne had ruthlessly laid waste the garden of her life, she would never -rest till she had made his as desolate as her own. - -During the half-hour spent from wharf to wharf, she paced the deck of -the steamer with hasty strides, her shawl clasped tightly over her -throbbing bosom, and her face concealed as before by the capacious -sun-bonnet. She heeded not that she was the object of curious attention -on the part of her fellow-passengers. She never noticed how sedulously -the children avoided coming in her way—what glances, half of wonder, -half of awe, they cast upon the tall, stately, ill-dressed woman who -strode by them with such an impatient step. She had far other thoughts -to occupy her. She could not force herself to sit down. With her mind in -such a whirl, motion was absolutely necessary. Her hands were fiercely -clenched till the nails penetrated the skin, and caused the blood to -flow, but she neither saw the blood nor felt the injury. - -At length they reached the slip. She disembarked with the other -passengers, and with the same quick, hasty, impatient strides hurried -through the streets, choosing instinctively the most obscure and -unfrequented, until she reached the lodgings occupied by Jacob and -herself. - -Here she sat down for a few minutes, and looked about her. - -The room was more ambitiously furnished than when first the reader was -introduced to it. Jacob’s connection with Lewis Rand had given him a -push upward, and enabled him to live more comfortably than before. But -in this prosperity Margaret had not been permitted to participate. She -had asked even humbly for money to provide herself with more comfortable -and befitting clothing, but Jacob, with cold selfishness, had refused -all her applications. He had grown tired of her, and, as we have seen, -had already formed a plan by which he hoped, through marriage, to get -possession of a small property which would place his new prosperity on a -more permanent footing. His treatment of Margaret, therefore, was only -part of a deliberate plan to rid himself of her, and thus remove the -only obstacle to the success of his suit. He had not indeed intended to -reveal his plans to her until marriage had secured the property he -coveted. We have seen how Margaret’s jealous espionage forced a -premature disclosure of his object, and even defeated it altogether. - -Margaret looked about the room, which she had so long regarded as home. -Then her eye rested on herself disfigured by the faded and unsightly -garments which Jacob’s parsimony compelled her to wear, and she -smiled,—a smile of such bitter mockery, such deep and woful -despair,—that she almost shuddered to see it reflected in the mirror -opposite. - -“There is no time to waste,” she muttered, slowly. “This can be my home -no longer. I must do what I have to do and be gone.” - -She opened a small drawer in the bureau, and drew out a half sheet of -paper. It seemed to have been used for trying the pen, the same names -together with particular letters, being several times repeated on it. -Among the names that of Rand occurred most frequently. - -Margaret smiled—this time a smile of triumph. - -“Jacob Wynne! Jacob Wynne!” she repeated to herself, “what would you say -if you knew that I hold in my hand the evidence of your crime,—forgery! -forgery!” - -Her eyes sparkled with vindictive joy. - -“You would not sleep so quietly in your bed to-night, Jacob Wynne, if -you knew that I hold it in my power to hurl you into prison a convicted -forger! Why should I not do it? Tell me that, Jacob Wynne. Why, indeed; -shall I have compassion upon you who have had no pity for me? Never! -never!” - -“When you are in prison,” she continued, in a tone of yet deeper -vindictiveness, “I will come and visit you, and taunt you with the -knowledge that it is to me you owe your disgrace. Think you that _she_ -will smile upon you then; that she will be ready to stand before the -altar as I did?—Heaven help me!—and plight her faith to a convicted -forger?” - -Margaret’s whole nature seemed changed. Her love seemed to have given -place to a deadly resentment. - -She collected a few articles, and packed them in a small bundle. - -Then she took one more glance—a farewell look at what, till now, had -been her home, and then pressed her hand upon her heart, while an -expression of pain distorted her features. But this was only for a -moment. By a powerful effort of self-control she checked her emotions, -and silently went out from the room. - -Mile after mile walked Margaret through the crowded city streets, -turning neither to the right hand nor to the left. All gazed curiously -at her, all turned out for her. Now and then some one, more independent -than his neighbors, seemed inclined to oppose her progress, and compel -her to yield the way; but she moved steadily onwards, and he was obliged -to waive his independence, and make way for the singular woman whose -stately walk seemed so inconsistent with her miserable attire. - -On, on, till the houses became farther and farther apart; on, till the -whirl of the great city is lost in the distance, and fields stretch out -on either side of the highway. - -Still she moves on, never faltering, never showing signs of fatigue. - -The skies grew suddenly dark. The rumbling of distant thunder was heard. -Vivid flashes of lightning played before her eyes, and dazzled her with -their blinding glare; still she moved steadily onward. A tree, shivered -by the lightning, fell across her path; she climbed over the trunk which -had been rent in twain, and continued her journey without exhibiting a -trace of surprise or alarm. There was a conflict raging in her own soul -fiercer than the conflict of the elements without; what was the -lightning that dazzled her sight to that which had seared her heart? And -why should she shrink from the shattered tree, whose own life had been -made a yet more fearful wreck? - -And now the rain began to fall, not in a gentle shower, but in a fierce, -drenching deluge. It soaked through and through her miserable clothing, -and fell upon her hot skin. She did not seem to heed even that, but -still walked on—on with the same quick, steady pace, as before. - -By the wayside was a small cottage, a very small one. There was but one -story, and two rooms were all it contained. It stood a few feet back -from the road. There was a small yard in front, and behind a small -garden, devoted to the cultivation of vegetables. - -When Margaret came in sight of this cottage she paused,—paused a moment -irresolutely,—and then slowly entered through the open gate into the -path which led up to the front door. - -She did not knock, but passing the door, stole to the window and looked -cautiously in. - -The room revealed to her gaze was very plainly furnished. The floor was -clean, but had no carpet. A table and a few chairs, a clock, a stove, -and a rocking-chair, were all that the room contained. - -In the rocking-chair sat an old lady, quietly engaged in knitting. Her -back was towards the window, and Margaret could therefore see nothing of -her features. At her feet reposed a gigantic cat, with her eyes half -closed, purring contentedly. - -It was a picture of humble comfort and domestic happiness. The placid -look of the old lady seemed to indicate that she had no anxieties to -disturb her tranquillity. The cat, too, seemed to feel that dozing was -the great work of her existence, as, coiled up on the hearth, she -watched, with winking eyes, the rapid movements of the old lady’s -fingers. - -Such was the general aspect of the room upon which the burning eyes of -Margaret now rested. She stood for brief space peering in with an air of -irresolution. - -At length she opened the outer door. A moment more, and the door of the -inner room yielded to her touch, and she stood upon the threshold. - -The old lady looked up from her knitting, and uttered a half exclamation -of terror as her eyes rested on the tall, forlorn woman standing before -her, with her clothes hanging in wet folds about her person, and her -hair falling in wild disorder about her face, from which she had now -removed her bonnet. The cat, too, who had been roused from her nap, and -who was as much unused to such company as her mistress, stood with her -back arched in terror, gazing in dismay at the stranger. - -“Who are you?” asked the old lady, tremulously. “What do you want with -me?” - -Margaret looked at her earnestly, and said, in a low voice: - -“You do not know me?” - -“No, I don’t know you,” said the old lady, shaking her head. - -“Is it thus a mother forgets her own child?” asked Margaret, looking -fixedly at her. - -The old lady trembled, she looked with an earnest glance of inquiry at -the wild, haggard face of her visitor, and then bursting into tears took -a step forward, and opening her arms exclaimed,— - -“Margaret, my daughter!” - -The hard heart melted for a moment, tears gushed from eyes dry before, -and the two were folded in a close embrace. - -Then the old lady drew back a step, and gazed long and earnestly at her -daughter. - -“You find me changed, mother,” said Margaret, abruptly. - -“It is years since we met,” was the sad reply. “I might have expected to -find you changed.” - -“But not _such_ a change,” replied Margaret. “It is not years alone that -have wrought the change in me. But you don’t—you cannot see the greater -change,” she continued with rapidity, “that has taken place in my heart. -It is a woful change, mother.” - -Her mother marked, with alarm, the excitement of her manner, her quick -breathing, and the flush upon her cheeks. - -“Your clothes are wet, Margaret,” she said, anxiously. “This terrible -storm has drenched you. You must change them instantly, or you will get -your death of cold.” - -“Ah, that reminds me,” said Margaret, waywardly, “you haven’t admired my -clothes yet. They are very rich and becoming, are they not? This shawl,” -and she lifted up the tattered rag and spread it out, while the rain -dropped from it upon the floor, “have you ever seen a more beautiful -one? And this dress,”—she held it up in her fingers,—“how much it -resembles the soft silk I wore at my wedding—yes, my _wedding_,” she -repeated, with startling emphasis. - -“You are not well, Margaret,” said her mother, alarmed at her strange -conduct. “You have caught cold in this storm, and you will be sick if -you are not careful.” - -“Sick! That matters little.” - -“You might die,” urged the old lady, in a tone of mild reproach. - -“Yes,” said Margaret, reflectively, “I might die, and that would prevent -my revenge. I must live for that; yes, I must live for that.” - -“What do you mean, Margaret?” - -“Never mind, mother,” said Margaret, evasively, “never mind. I will tell -you some time. Now I will place myself in your hands, mother, and try to -get well.” - -“Now you are yourself again,” said the old lady, relieved by her calmer -tone. “You must take off those wet clothes directly, and put on some of -mine. You had better go to bed at once.” - -Margaret yielded implicitly to her mother’s directions. Nevertheless, -she was very sick for many weeks. Often she was delirious, and her -mother more than once shuddered at the wild words which escaped her. - - - - - CHAPTER XIX, - HERBERT COLEMAN. - - -In course of time Helen’s engagement subjected her to a new -embarrassment. It was of course late in the evening before she was -released from the theatre, leaving her a distance to traverse of more -than a mile. At first Martha Grey called for her, but it soon became -evident that this was too much for the strength of the poor seamstress. -She did not complain, but Helen, with the quick eye of friendship, saw -her lassitude and the air of weariness which she strove in vain to -conceal, and would not allow her to continue her friendly service. - -“But, my dear child,” said Martha, “how will you manage? You ought not -to go alone. It would not be proper.” - -“I will try it,” said Helen, though her timid nature shrank from the -trial. “If necessary, I must get a lodging nearer the theatre.” - -“And leave us? I should miss you sadly.” - -“Oh, I should expect you to come too,” said Helen. “We would hire rooms -close together. But perhaps it will not be necessary.” - -So Helen undertook to return from the theatre alone. She might indeed -have had her father’s escort by asking for it, but she feared it would -prove an interruption to his labors, and perhaps deprive him of the rest -which he required. But an incident happened on the second evening which -convinced her that it was not safe for her to walk home unattended. - -Singing at a popular theatre, Helen’s face naturally became familiar to -those who frequented it. There were some among them who were struck by -her beauty, and desired to see her off the stage. It happened that a -young man was standing near the door of the theatre one evening when -Helen emerged from it. He quietly followed her until she reached an -unfrequented side street through which she was obliged to pass, and then -pressed to her side. - -“Good evening, Miss Ford,” he said, accommodating his pace to hers. - -Helen looked up startled, and met an unfamiliar face. She remained -silent through terror. - -“Good evening,” repeated her unwelcome companion. “I hardly think you -heard me the first time.” - -“I don’t know you, sir.” - -“Allow me to remedy that. My name is Albert Grover, at your service.” - -“I beg you will leave me, sir,” said Helen, her heart beating rapidly. - -“I would rather not, indeed. You are alone, and require an escort.” - -“I would rather not trouble you, sir; I shall do very well alone.” - -“It is no trouble whatever—on the contrary, quite a pleasure. Will you -accept my arm?” - -“No, sir, I would much rather not.” - -“Upon my word, you are not treating me well. When I announce myself as -one of the warmest admirers of your charming voice, I am sure you will -not be cruel enough to repulse me. Let me insist, then, upon your -accepting my arm for the remainder of your walk.” - -Helen was quite terrified by the young man’s persistency. Too young to -fear any peril except the annoyance of the present moment, she felt an -apprehension which she could not define. - -“Pray, leave me, sir,” she said, in accents of entreaty. - -“I am sure you don’t mean that,” returned her persecutor, endeavoring to -place her arm in his. - -Helen screamed faintly. Her call was instantly answered. - -“Leave this young lady alone,” said a manly voice, the owner of which -seized Mr. Albert Grover with a vigorous grasp. - -“Who are you?” demanded the young man endeavoring, but without success, -to free himself from his unexpected assailant. - -“What you do not appear to be,” was the prompt reply, “a gentleman. Are -you not ashamed to annoy a defenceless girl?” - -“I only meant to see her home,” was the sulky reply. - -“You can spare yourself the trouble. I will undertake that duty.” - -“O Mr. Coleman, how glad I am you came up!” said Helen, clinging to her -new protector, in whom the reader has already recognized the opposite -lodger. - -“So am I. But, Miss Ford, do you know how imprudent it is for you to be -out at this hour alone?” - -“I suppose it is,” said Helen; “but I don’t know what else to do. Martha -Grey used to come for me, but I found it was too much for her. Papa -would come, but he works so hard that I don’t think he ought to come. -And there is no one else.” - -“I see how it is,” said the young man. “I shall come for you myself.” - -“You, Mr. Coleman! Oh, no, I could not think of troubling you.” - -“Indeed, it will be no trouble.” - -“If it were for only one evening. But every evening, it would be too -much.” - -“On the contrary, it will be pleasant for me. I am in my room nearly all -day, hard at work. In the evening I cannot work, for painting requires -sunlight. So I shall only be taking the exercise I need, and coming for -you will give me an object which will insure my taking the exercise I -require. You see, therefore, that it is a selfish arrangement on my -part.” - -“I see that you are very kind,” said Helen, gratefully. “I wish there -were any way in which I could repay you.” - -“I have a young sister at home, about your age. If she were situated as -you are, I should want somebody to be kind to her. Let me look upon you -as my sister.” - -“I shall be very glad to have you,” said Helen, her confidence -completely won. - -“Then, of course, I shall not call you Miss Ford any longer.” - -“Why not?” - -“Because that would be too formal between brother and sister. I must -call you Helen.” - -“Yes, if you like,” said the child, more and more pleased. “It is very -pleasant to have a brother.” - -“Then you will call me Herbert?” - -“Is that your name?” - -“Yes. Will you call me so?” - -“Perhaps so, by and by. I must get used to it, you know.” - -“I think that will soon come, for we shall be a good deal together now.” - -Helen felt quite relieved by this new arrangement. The next evening Mr. -Coleman presented himself promptly at the theatre, thereby disappointing -Albert Grover, who was in waiting to repeat his annoyance of the -previous evening. - -“You may as well give it up,” said Helen’s escort, with a significant -glance at the young man. “Henceforth, this young lady will have an -escort able and willing to chastise all who are disposed to offer her -annoyance.” - -Helen clung to his arm with a feeling of unspeakable relief. - -“Don’t tremble, Helen,” said he, kindly. “You are safe with me.” - -“You are very kind to me,” said Helen. - -“That is my duty. You have promised to be my little sister, you know.” - -“Have you begun a new picture yet?” - -“Not yet. I thought I could see where I might make some alterations for -the better in the picture you have seen. I shall try to get it admitted -to the Academy by and by, unless I succeed first in obtaining a -purchaser.” - -“It is so beautiful, I should think it would be easy to find a -purchaser.” - -“If all looked at it with your partial eyes, Helen. But I have no -reputation, and an established name goes a great ways.” - -“But you will become famous some day.” - -“I hope so, but it will be many years first. I must work for bread and -butter before I work for fame.” - -“Can’t you work for both at the same time?” - -“I hope so. But sometimes an artist, under the spur of necessity, is -compelled to deny his highest aspirations, and work for present profit. -From that temptation I am relieved at present,” the young man added, -laughing, “since my pencil is not yet in demand.” - -They had now reached the door of the lodging-house, and stumbled up the -dark staircase to their rooms. - -“Good night, Mr. Coleman,” said Helen. - -“So it is still Mr. Coleman?” - -“Good night, Herbert,” said Helen, timidly. - -“Good night, little sister. Good night, and pleasant dreams.” - - - - - CHAPTER XX. - THE CANDLE FLICKERS. - - -Leaving Margaret to recover slowly at the little cottage under her -mother’s care, and Helen and her father to the tranquil existence which, -though humble, contents them, we pass to a nearer view of Lewis Rand and -his uncle, whose last days are imbittered by the artful machinations of -his nephew. - -We stand before a palace-like structure, fronting on Fifth Avenue, whose -imposing exterior scarcely gives an adequate idea of the interior -magnificence. But few homes, even in that aristocratic quarter, are more -sumptuously furnished. Yet it would be difficult to say how far all this -splendor contributes to the happiness of its owner. Happiness is quite -independent of wealth, and what wealth can procure. Of what avail is it, -that curtains of the richest damask keep out the too intrusive sunlight, -or that carpets of the finest texture cover the floors, since the -shutters are always closed, and the magnificent parlors rarely echo the -steps of a visitor? Of what avail is the gallery of really exquisite -paintings, selected at an immense cost from European collections? Hidden -from the curious eye, lest perchance some harm might come to them, never -looked upon by the possessor, they might as well be buried under ground, -so far as concerns the actual enjoyment derived from them. - -Mr. Rand has never recovered from the loss of his son. Great as was the -shock he experienced from that son’s plebeian choice, for such he -considered it, he would have made advances towards a reconciliation long -before, but for the vigilance and adroit manœuvring of his nephew Lewis. -The latter well knew that this would be fatal to his hopes of succeeding -as heir presumptive to his uncle’s immense wealth. Accordingly, as soon -as his uncle’s first passionate anger began to show signs of abatement, -he was persuaded by Lewis to undertake a European tour. This occupied -several years, during which they resided, for different lengths of time, -in the principal European capitals. It was at this time that most of the -articles of taste and luxury which now adorned the city mansion were -first collected. - -But there is nothing that can supply to the heart the place of a lost -affection. Mr. Rand returned to America restless and unhappy for the -lack of that which his own act had driven from him. Had his son been at -hand, he would have offered to receive him back, but it was not till -some time afterwards that he heard of his being in Chicago. Whether -Lewis suspected any disposition to relent is not certain, but, as we -have already seen, he thought it politic to give his uncle the -impression that his cousin was dead. Of this he did not find it -difficult then to convince him, and so, for a time, he breathed easier. -But the recent glimpse of Robert had aroused in the father a hope which -Lewis found it exceedingly difficult to stifle. To this hope may be -attributed the change in the phraseology of the will, which the nephew -had taken such criminal pains to neutralize. He was in perpetual -apprehension that his cousin might, by some means, learn the fact of his -father’s residence in the city, and, in consequence, make an attempt to -obtain an interview. This must be avoided at all hazards. The quiet -manner in which they lived rendered the chance of discovery a small one, -and the present alarming illness of his uncle, which Lewis regarded as a -fortunate circumstance, made that chance still smaller. - -On a bed in one of the most elegantly furnished chambers in his princely -dwelling, reposed Mr. Rand,—let me rather say reclined, for his quick, -restless movements indicated anything but repose. His white hair clung -disordered about his temples, his features were thin and careworn, and -his whole aspect was that of a man whose life is ending in anxiety and -disappointment. - -Lewis sat by the bedside, coldly scrutinizing the wasted features, as if -calculating how long life can retain its hold. - -“Will he never die—_never_?” thus ran his thoughts. “It is strange with -what tenacity he clings to life; but as long as he remains here, -prostrated by sickness, I am tolerably safe. Still, it isn’t a bad plan, -which I have in train through Sharp. Although the chances are a hundred -to one in my favor, the bare _possibility_ of miscarriage is sufficient -to justify every precaution.” - -“O that he might die _at once_!” he mentally resumed, looking -impatiently at the wasted face. “Then alone will my doubts and anxieties -be at an end. Then I shall care little how often I may meet my cousin -Robert. He will have no further power to injure or thwart me. He cannot -last long now. It is three days since he has been rational. He must die, -and then——” - -Lewis rose and paced the room with quick strides, while he indulged in -dreams of the uses to which he would apply the rich inheritance, for -which he had been plotting and scheming for so many years. - -He was interrupted by a feeble voice from the bed. - -Lewis turned quickly towards the bed, and the face of the cunning -dissembler at once assumed the expression of profound sorrow and -sympathy. - -“My dear uncle,” he said, “I am rejoiced to find that you are once more -yourself. How do you feel?” - -“Weak, Lewis, very weak,” returned the sick man, speaking with -difficulty. “I feel that my life is nearing its close.” - -“Don’t say that, uncle,” said Lewis, with well dissembled emotion; “I -cannot bear to part with you. Live for me, if not for yourself. If you -should die, what is there left to me? Through so many years I have -renounced all other ties, and devoted myself to you. You must not leave -me now.” - -The artful dissembler applied his handkerchief to his eyes, possibly to -hide the gleam of joyful anticipation which he could with difficulty -conceal. - -“Yes, Lewis,” said Mr. Rand, affected by his nephew’s apparent emotion; -“you have indeed been devoted to me. You will find, after my death, that -I have not been ungrateful. Your affection leads you to wish my life -prolonged, but when the tongue falters, and the pulse grows weak, and -the throbbing heart is almost still, man should not presumptuously -strive to call back the gift which God is about to take away.” - -“My dear uncle, I am convinced that you are unnecessarily alarmed. You -will yet live many years.” - -“Hope it not, Lewis,” said the sick man, who was far from suspecting how -unnecessary this admonition was; “hope it not. I know my time is short. -At such a time, Lewis, our past actions assume a very different aspect -from that in which we have been wont to regard them. Now when it is too -late, I can see how by my foolish pride, I have wrecked my own -happiness, and perhaps—God forgive me—that of him I loved best in life, -my son Robert.” - -Lewis was uneasy at the turn the conversation was taking, and made an -effort to divert it. - -“I think, sir,” he said, “that you are blaming yourself without adequate -cause. Much as I loved my cousin, I am forced to acknowledge that he -justly forfeited his claims to your favor and affection.” - -“Forfeited my affection! And shall we, weak, erring mortals, in our -presumption dare to affix such a penalty to what may after all be only -an offence against our own unworthy pride? I feel that I was wrong. I -should not have condemned Robert’s choice without having seen his wife, -and if she was really worthy, I should have given my consent.” - -“But, consider her birth.” - -“When you come to lie on your death-bed as I do now,” said the sick man, -solemnly, “such considerations will dwindle into their proper -insignificance. Why should I claim superiority over any being whom the -same kind Father has made? When death is near us, our vision becomes -clearer. The scales of prejudice are rent away, and we see things as -they are.” - -Lewis was silent. He was seeking some way of diverting the conversation -into a less dangerous channel. - -“While I have been lying here,” resumed Mr. Rand, “I have been haunted -by a conviction that Robert is still living, or that he may have left -issue.” - -“My dear uncle,” interrupted Lewis; in alarm, “let me entreat you not to -disturb yourself by such thoughts; call to mind how direct were the -proofs of his death.” - -“I know all that you would urge, Lewis, but there have been cases where -the death of a person of similar name has led to a misapprehension. It -may have been so in this case.” - -“It is scarcely possible.” - -“Perhaps you are right. My conviction is based rather upon my feelings -than upon my reason.” - -“Better think no more of it, uncle, it will only distress you.” - -“Have I not done so? For eighteen years I have been striving to drive -away the thoughts of my injustice. But it will not do. I _must_ think of -it, and thinking finds relief in speaking.” - -“But, even admitting that you have wronged my cousin Robert, which, in -justice to yourself I am not willing to allow, consider that your will, -by its provisions, makes ample reparation for that wrong.” - -“Poor, at best, Lewis. Will it make reparation for the estrangement -which for eighteen years has kept apart father and son? That cannot be. -And yet I would fain see even this poor atonement made.” - -“You may rely upon my being guided by your wishes, uncle.” - -“I doubt it not. Yet it would be a satisfaction if I, who have done the -wrong, could have the privilege of repairing it during my life. Oh, that -I might have the joy and blessing of seeing my son once more if he yet -lives—that I might ask his forgiveness for the wrong I have done him!” - -Lewis was seriously troubled at his uncle’s pertinacity, and still more -by the inquiry which followed. - -“Don’t you think, Lewis, it would be well to advertise in the daily -papers, for Robert Rand or his descendants, if he should have any?” - -“It would be useless,” said Lewis, shaking his head. “It would only be -throwing the money away.” - -“And what is money to me? Nothing, nothing, compared with the thought I -have done something, however little, towards expiating my injustice. I -wish, Lewis, you would draw up an advertisement, and see it inserted.” - -However distasteful this proposal was to Lewis, it would not do to -object. He therefore, with an appearance of alacrity, procured writing -materials, and prepared such an advertisement as his uncle desired. He -read it to the sick man who signified his approval, and requested Lewis -to procure its insertion in the principal daily papers forthwith. This -Lewis undertook to do. - -_But the advertisement never appeared!_ - -Lewis dared not permit this, knowing that his cousin was actually in the -city, and that it would be likely to meet his eye. - -Had his uncle been in the habit of reading the daily papers, it could -not safely have been suppressed. But he was too sick for that, and there -was no prospect of his becoming better. He had of course no suspicion of -Lewis’s double dealing, but trusted implicitly to him. Day after day he -inquired anxiously if there was any answer to the advertisement. As -often Lewis replied in the negative, and Mr. Rand would sink back upon -his pillow with a sigh of disappointment. - -Once Lewis ventured to suggest that it would be well to discontinue the -advertisement. - -“No, no,” said his uncle, “let it be continued while I live. And after -that I depend upon you to leave no effort unmade to discover some trace -of my lost son.” - -“You know me too well, to doubt that I will follow your instructions to -the letter.” - -“Yes, Lewis,” said his uncle. “You have been very kind to me. You -deserve all my confidence, and you possess it.” - -So Lewis continued to keep watch by his uncle’s bedside, a daily witness -of his restlessness and unhappiness, and knowing full well that in an -hour’s space, he could bring peace and comfort to the dying man by -restoring his son to him; even at the eleventh hour, he refused to speak -the word that could have wrought the blessed change. - -God grant that there be not many hearts as hard! - - - - - CHAPTER XXI. - A CONSULTATION. - - -Mr. Sharp was seated in his office. A complacent smile played over his -features. Perhaps he was thinking of the adroit manner in which he had -secured one hundred dollars of the sum intrusted to him for Robert Ford. -The bottle and glass, on the table before him, testified that his -present occupation could hardly be considered of a professional -character. - -While Mr. Sharp was holding up the glass before him, and admiring the -rich warm tint of its contents, Lewis Rand quietly opened the door of -the office and walked in. Had Mr. Sharp been consulted, he would prefer -to have been forewarned of the visit. - -“Business driving as ever,” remarked Lewis, in his dry sarcastic way, -taking in at a quick glance the scene before him. - -“Well, yes,” said Mr. Sharp, in some embarrassment, putting down his -glass, its contents untasted. - -It may be remarked, that whenever Mr. Sharp was perplexed, it was his -habit to run his hands vigorously through his blushing locks, till they -stood upon his head erect, and bristled like so many porcupine quills. -By the time this was well over his faculties returned, and “Richard was -himself again.” To this he had recourse on the present occasion, -immediately after which he resumed his usual air of easy assurance. - -“I am, as you see,” he remarked affably, “taking my little symposium, in -humble imitation of the ancient Greeks and Romans,—‘Champagne,’ as -somebody has said, ‘is admirably calculated to clear cobwebs from the -brain.’” - -“In that case,” dryly returned his client, who could not resist the -temptation of a hit at his coadjutor, “I advise you by all means to try -it.” - -“Truly,” replied Mr. Sharp, who was dimly conscious of the covert -sarcasm, but deemed it politic not to notice it directly, “there is no -profession that racks the brain like mine, sir. The mightiest intellects -of ancient as well as of modern times——” - -Mr. Sharp here assumed a standing posture, and was about to pronounce a -eulogy upon the different great men who had, during the last twenty -centuries, graced the profession which he adorned. - -But the lawyer was saved the trouble of proceeding, by the expression of -a wish on the part of Lewis to attend to business. - -“Certainly, by all means,” said Mr. Sharp, briskly resuming his seat, -and drawing before him a sheet of blank paper. “Business before -pleasure, or rather, with me, business is pleasure.” - -“I have, as you know,” Lewis commenced, “lent the sum of three hundred -dollars to Robert Ford, through your agency.” - -“And very liberal it was in you, I am sure,” said Mr. Sharp, with -benignant approval. - -“By no means. I never professed to be a philanthropist, and I freely -acknowledge that in this act I was influenced by any but benevolent -motives. It was done solely with a view to promote my own interests.” - -Here he paused; and Mr. Sharp, while waiting for a further explanation, -rubbed his hands and nodded genially, as if to indicate how thoroughly -he indorsed the views of his principal. - -“I need not remind you,” continued Lewis, not heeding this little -manifestation, “of how great importance it is to me that Robert Ford, -who is the only obstacle between me and his father’s fortune, should be -kept entirely out of the way of any possibility of meeting his father. -Such an encounter fortunately is not very probable, since neither is -aware of the other’s presence in the city. When, however I consider how -trifling a chance, such for instance as a glance at a Directory, might -lead to that knowledge, I feel more and more how essential it is to my -interests that some decisive step should be taken. I may say in -confirmation of this, that my uncle, whose health is in a very critical -state, has conceived a fancy, Heaven knows how, that my cousin is still -alive, notwithstanding the evidence of his death in Chicago, which I -placed in his hands.” - -“That is awkward.” - -“Yes, it is very awkward, especially as he has insisted on my drawing up -an advertisement for this precious cousin of mine, and having it -inserted in the daily papers.” - -“And you have done so?” - -“Not I. It would be suicidal. I drew up the advertisement, however, as -he requested, and he supposes that it has been inserted.” - -Mr. Sharp surveyed Lewis with a glance of approval. It was a tribute to -superior rascality. - -“Now I will explain to you,” pursued Lewis, “why I have lent money to -Robert Ford. My uncle is dangerously ill; he cannot live many weeks at -farthest. It is absolutely essential that some attempt should be made to -place my cousin where he cannot do me any harm. If the laws permitted -it, I would gladly have him imprisoned for debt. That is, unluckily, out -of the question. I have it in my power, however, to annoy him in such a -way as perhaps to drive him from the city.” - -“What do you propose to do?” - -“Seize the furniture in execution, either with or without legal -sanction. Robert is far from being a man of the world, and there is no -risk in going to lengths with him, which would be dangerous with -others.” - -“I have it,” said Sharp, eagerly. - -“Well.” - -“Your cousin is quite devoted to a heap of old machinery, out of which -he expects to make a flying machine or something of the kind. To seize -upon that would be the most serious blow you could inflict upon him.” - -“I believe you are right. Robert was always a visionary. If that should -prove insufficient to drive him away, I will authorize you to offer him -some pecuniary inducements in a guarded manner—some remunerative -employment which will call him elsewhere, and which he will be the more -tempted to undertake if his present occupation is gone. Only let him be -kept out of the way until——” - -“You are called upon to lament the death of your venerable relation,” -suggested Sharp. - -“Then,” pursued Lewis, “he may go where he pleases, so far as I am -concerned.” - -“My dear sir, you should have been a lawyer. You would have been an -ornament to the profession,” said Mr. Sharp, with complimentary -emphasis. - -“Rather an equivocal compliment, I am afraid,” returned Lewis, dryly. -“But in order to carry out this plan of ours, beyond a doubt, we must -ascertain that my cousin will be unable to pay the money when called -upon.” - -“I think I may pledge you,” said the lawyer, “that you need entertain no -apprehensions on that score. From what I have seen I conjecture that at -the time of your loan he had but little money on hand, and I know that -he has expended a considerable sum since.” - -“It is best to be certain, however.” - -“Undoubtedly. I will myself call down there this afternoon, if you think -best, and ascertain this point without exciting his suspicions.” - -“Do so; and should you find the prospect favorable, take measures to -have the demand presented to-morrow. If not discharged, you know how to -proceed.” - -“You may rely upon my following your directions to the letter,” returned -the attorney, as sweeping his fingers once more through his blushing -locks, he bowed his client gracefully out. - - - - - CHAPTER XXII. - PREPARING THE WAY. - - -Promptness was one of the valuable characteristics of Mr. Sharp. But no -general remark is without its exceptions. - -On the present occasion our legal friend decided to call at once on Mr. -Ford, in pursuance of the commission which he received from Lewis Rand. -It involved a species of double dealing for which Mr. Sharp felt that he -had peculiar qualifications. - -Taking down from the nail his invariable white hat, he adjusted it -somewhat jauntily upon his head, and walked forth with a benevolent -smile irradiating his countenance, as if he were meditating some scheme -by which he expected to add largely to the sum-total of human happiness. -There are others than he who go out with a smile upon the lips, but an -evil purpose in their hearts. - -The lawyer took his way to Mrs. Morton’s lodging-house. He went up -stairs, and entered Mr. Ford’s room without ceremony, knowing that Helen -would be absent at that hour, and that the habitual abstraction of her -father would probably prevent his knock being heard. - -“Ah, good afternoon, Mr. Ford,” he said, with affability, cordially -grasping the inventor’s hand. “Still at your work, I see. I could not -resist the impulse to call and inquire after your progress. It seems -such a welcome relief to come from the close, dusty court-room to this -little retreat of yours. And how are you getting on, my dear friend?” - -“I am advancing as rapidly as I anticipated,” said Mr. Ford, pausing in -the midst of an intricate calculation. “I feel that I have every reason -to be encouraged.” - -“I am delighted to hear it,” exclaimed the lawyer, with friendly -enthusiasm. “Then you really think that before many years we shall be -able to skim from country to country on the wings of the wind, so to -speak.” - -“I have not a doubt of it,” answered the inventor, in a tone of quiet -confidence. “We already know how great a degree of speed has been -attained by our steamers and locomotives, in the face of far greater -obstacles than are to be encountered in the case of aërial navigation. -The great impediment to the speed of the locomotive is, as you are -doubtless aware, the friction that necessarily results from its constant -contact with the earth.” - -Mr. Sharp nodded assent. - -“While the speed of the ocean-steamer is in like manner very materially -lessened by the resistance of the water.” - -Mr. Sharp had often been struck by this very thought. Indeed, he had -expended considerable time and thought in the leisure stolen from his -professional cares in attempting to devise means for remedying to some -extent these causes of loss. For, as he had before assured Mr. Ford, -though a lawyer by profession, his tastes lay in quite a different -direction. - -“Now in traversing the air,” continued Mr. Ford, “we have the advantage -of not being obliged to contend either with the friction generated by -constant contact with the earth, or with the resistance of a foreign -element like water. All that needs to be overcome is the resistance of -the air, which is no greater than in the other cases, while the other -obstacles are removed.” - -“Very true,” said Mr. Sharp, with an air of profound conviction. - -“All that is needed to establish aërial navigation on a firm basis is to -find some means of steadying and regulating the motion, which no doubt -would be incredibly rapid. It is intended that the machine shall partake -of the nature of a balloon, as buoyancy will of course be requisite.” - -“My dear sir,” said Mr. Sharp, warmly grasping the hand of the inventor, -“nothing could be more clear and lucid than your explanation. The same -course of reasoning, if you will permit me to say so, has more than once -suggested itself to me, but, if I may be allowed the expression, it is -an idiosyncrasy of mine to possess more theoretical than practical -ability. Therefore even if my many engagements would suffer it, I doubt -whether I should become a successful inventor. You, my dear sir, who so -happily combine both, are admirably adapted to that high vocation.” - -“I ought to succeed,” said Mr. Ford, with a little sigh, “if the labor -and thought of many years employed in one direction can achieve -success.” - -“I hope,” said the visitor, as if the question had just occurred to him, -“that you have made free use of the money it was my privilege to offer -you recently.” - -Mr. Ford replied gratefully, that he had expended about one half of it. -He hoped to be able to repay it some day. - -“Of course,” argued the lawyer to himself, “he could not pay it now. -That is what I wanted to know.” - -“I ought perhaps to mention,” he said, carelessly, “that having a large -claim unexpectedly presented for payment yesterday, I raised money upon -your note, _expressly stipulating_ that you should not be called upon -for it, as I should be able to redeem it in a day or two.” - -“You are very kind,” said Mr. Ford. “Perhaps I had better return you the -money yet remaining in my hands.” - -“By no means, my dear sir,” exclaimed Mr. Sharp, almost indignantly; -“shall I recall the humble offering which I have laid upon the altar of -science? Nay, I am resolved that my name shall be humbly connected with -yours, when the world has learned to recognize your genius, and numbers -you among its benefactors.” - -How was it possible to suspect a friendship so disinterested? - - - - - CHAPTER XXIII. - THE BLOW FALLS. - - -The next morning found Mr. Sharp closeted with a brother practitioner -equally unprincipled with himself. There was this difference between -them, however, that while Mr. Sharp concealed his real character beneath -a specious show of affability and suavity, his companion, whom, by way -of distinction, we will call Blunt, was rough in his manners, and had -not art enough to compass the consummate duplicity of the other. Indeed, -so accustomed was Mr. Sharp to its use, that he did not lay it aside -even where he knew it to be useless. - -“My dear friend Blunt,” he exclaimed, with charming cordiality, “I am -delighted to see you looking so well.” - -“Humph?” was the somewhat dubious rejoinder. - -“I should have called upon you instead of sending for you to my office, -but I have really been so harassed by business that I could not get a -single spare moment.” - -“And you presumed that I was not overburdened in that way, eh?” - -“My dear Blunt,” said Sharp, with wounded feeling, “how can you imagine -such a thing?” - -“I only judged from what you said. You hadn’t time to call upon me, but -judged that I had plenty of time to spend in calling upon you.” - -“My dear Blunt,” said Sharp, impressively, “if the extent of a man’s -business were always commensurate with his merits——” - -“We should neither of us stand a very good chance.” - -“That was not exactly what I intended to say,” said Sharp, blowing his -nose, “your modesty, my dear Blunt——” - -“Modesty! I am sure you’re joking now, Sharp, and although my time is -not particularly valuable, I don’t care to stand here discussing -personal qualities; so if you had any object in sending for me, out with -it.” - -“You are somewhat abrupt in your speech, my dear friend; an evidence of -your sincerity, for which no one has a greater respect than myself.” - -“I have heard,” muttered Blunt, “that people are apt to set a high value -on qualities which they lack.” - -“However,” pursued Sharp, evading a reply to his last remark, “I have a -little professional business to offer you, if your engagement will -permit.” - -“No fear on that score,” said Blunt, dryly; “but this business—why don’t -you do it yourself? You needn’t tell me it’s on account of a pressure of -the other engagements, for I know better.” - -“That is not the reason, as with your usual penetration you have -discovered, my dear Blunt. Do not for a moment think I would attempt to -deceive you. With others it might do; but with you I know there would be -no chance of succeeding.” - -Mr. Sharp nodded with pleasant affability to his visitor, and resumed: -“The fact is, it is a matter in which I do not wish to appear. One of my -clients (Mr. Sharp brought out these words with an emphasis calculated -to convey the idea that it was one of a very large number), for a reason -which I need not mention, employed me some weeks since to lend a sum of -money to a certain individual. This was only to establish a power over -him which, some time, it might be convenient to use. That time has come; -it is his desire that the note should be presented with a demand for -immediate payment; in default of which a particular article in -possession of the borrower should be seized in execution. This, as you -may readily imagine, would have a tendency to harrow up my feelings, -and——” - -“Therefore you intrust the business to me, who have no feelings to be -harrowed up.” - -“My dear Blunt, I desire you to undertake this, because of your superior -strength of mind. I am well aware of my own deficiency in that respect.” - -“Well, well, have it as you will. I won’t trouble you to assign reasons -for throwing business into my hands. I sha’n’t let any scruples stand -between me and my own interest. Where’s the note!” - -“One thing more,” said Sharp, slowly unclasping the wallet which -contained the note. “This man—Robert Ford—thinks I lent him the money on -my own responsibility, and naturally regards me as a firm friend. I -called on him yesterday, and hinted that I had been forced to raise -money to meet a pressing engagement, and had given up this note as -collateral, on condition that it should not be presented. Very probably -he may mention this. I don’t wish him to suspect that there is any -understanding between us, as it will destroy what little influence I may -have over him. You will be kind enough, therefore, to say nothing to -undeceive him on that point, and if you could make it convenient to -abuse me a little, just to show that there is no collusion between us, I -should regard it as a particular favor.” - -“Abuse you! I will do it with the greatest pleasure in the world.” - -“I knew it, my dear Blunt; it was what I expected of your friendship. -But I must give you his direction. Have you all necessary instructions?” - -“You have not told me what I am to seize on execution?” - -“Very true, an important omission. You must know that this Ford, an -estimable man, by the way, has taken a fancy to invent a flying machine, -and to that end has collected an odd jumble of machinery. This is what I -wish you to seize. Here is the address.” - -“And where am I to bring it?” - -“You may as well bring it here.” - -“How unfortunate that you cannot complete the invention,” said Blunt, -dryly. “If it is just as convenient I shouldn’t mind receiving the pay -in advance; not,” he continued, with a pointed imitation of his -companion’s manner,—“not that I doubt in the least your high-souled -integrity, my dear Sharp, but simply because, just at present, -singularly enough, I happen to be out of cash.” - -“I shall be most happy to discharge your claim forthwith,” said Sharp, -rather ostentatiously displaying a roll of bills, and placing a five in -the hands of his agent. - -Blunt examined the bill with some minuteness, a sudden suspicion having -entered his mind as to its genuineness. Satisfied on this point, he -slipped it into his vest pocket, saying, “All right, you shall hear from -me in the course of the day.” - -An hour afterwards a loud authoritative knock aroused Robert Ford, who, -it is needless to say, was employed after his usual fashion. - -“Come in!” - -The invitation was quickly accepted by a shock-headed man, stout and -burly, who without ceremony drew out a note, and said, abruptly, “You -are Robert Ford, I presume?” - -“That is my name, sir,” said the inventor, in some surprise. - -“Very well. Here is a note with your signature, payable on demand. I -presume it will be perfectly convenient for you to pay it now.” - -Mr. Ford took the note with an absent air, and said, glancing at the man -before him, “Excuse me, but I do not recollect having seen you before.” - -“Very probably,” said Blunt, with _sang froid_. “We never had the -pleasure of meeting before.” - -“Then,” said the inventor, “how comes it that you have a demand against -me?” - -“If you will take the trouble to examine the note, you will find that it -comes through a third person, Richard Sharp. You probably remember him.” - -“Yes, I know him.” - -Mr. Ford glanced at the paper in his hand. - -“I think there must be some mistake,” he said. “The sum should be two -hundred dollars, not three.” - -“There is no mistake,” said Blunt, positively. “It is just as he gave it -to me.” - -“Mr. Sharp mentioned yesterday,” said Mr. Ford, with a sudden effort at -recollection, “that he had parted with this note to some one, but on -condition that it should not be presented. You had better see him about -it.” - -“I have nothing further to do with him,” replied Blunt, “I believe he -did mention something of the kind; but of course he cannot expect me to -keep this note when I want the money.” - -“Then, sir,” said Mr. Ford, “if, as you admit, Mr. Sharp made this -condition, it is incumbent on you, as a man of honor, to keep it. I am -sure it is very far from Mr. Sharp’s intention to trouble me for the -payment of a sum which he loaned without the expectation of immediate -repayment. I should wrong his disinterested generosity by harboring such -a suspicion.” - -“His disinterested generosity!” repeated Blunt, with a loud laugh. - -“Sir,” said the inventor, with calm dignity, “I must request you to -forbear insinuating by word or manner anything derogatory to a man who -has proved himself my benefactor, and, solely impelled by his interest -in science, has offered me the aid of his purse, without even an -application on my part.” - -“Very well,” said Blunt, “although it’s rather amusing to me to hear -Sharp spoken of as interested in science, I won’t quarrel with your -opinion of him, especially as his character isn’t in question just now. -The main point is, can you pay this note?” - -“I cannot.” - -“Then I shall be under the disagreeable necessity of calling two of my -friends in waiting.” - -Two Irishmen, who appeared to have been waiting outside, entered at -Blunt’s call. - -“Take that machinery,” said Blunt, in a tone of command, “and carry it -down stairs.” - -“Stay!” said Mr. Ford, in alarm; “what do you intend to do?” - -“I am only acting in self-defence,” said Blunt, doggedly. “You cannot -pay your money. If I can’t get my pay in one way, I must in another; -therefore, I take this machinery of yours in execution.” - -The thought of this calamity nearly overcame Mr. Ford. He did not pause -to consider whether the seizure was legal or illegal, but, in an -agitated voice, urged, “Take everything else, but spare me this. It is -to me of inestimable value,—greater than you can possibly imagine.” - -“That’s the very reason I take it,” said Blunt. “All the rest of your -trumpery,” glancing contemptuously at the plain furniture, “wouldn’t be -worth carrying away.” - -“At least,” implored the inventor, “wait till to-morrow, till I can see -Mr. Sharp.” - -“And where would you be?” sneered Blunt. “Don’t think to catch me with -such chaff; I’m too old a bird. I will take it while it is here.” - -“But,” urged Mr. Ford, “it can be of little value to you. You cannot -sell it for one quarter of the debt.” - -“Perhaps not. But that isn’t what I take it for.” - -“What then?” - -“As a pledge for its final payment. I care nothing for the trumpery, -while you, I know, do. When you come forward and pay the note, you shall -have it back again.” - -“Do you promise that?” asked the inventor, more cheerfully. - -“I will agree to wait a reasonable time.” - -Little ceremony was used in the removal of the complicated machinery. -Within ten minutes, all that had so fully occupied the thoughts of Mr. -Ford, and furnished the pleasure and the occupation of his quiet life, -was swept away, and he was left alone. That the labor was to no purpose, -and the hopes which he cherished vain, imported little. To him, at -least, they were realities, and upon them he had built a dazzling -superstructure, which now suddenly crumbled into pieces at his feet. - -Lewis Rand’s triumph was thus far complete. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIV. - HELEN’S GOOD FORTUNE. - - -Mr. Bowers, the manager, sat at his desk in the little office adjoining -the stage, running his eye over a manuscript play presented for -examination by an ambitious young man in spectacles. - -“Bah!” said the manager, tossing aside the play after a very brief -examination, “what can the man be thinking of? Two murders in the first -act, and a suicide in the first scene of the second! Such an -accumulation of horrors will never do. Here, Jeffries.” - -The messenger made his appearance, and stood awaiting orders. - -“Here,” said Mr. Bowers, tossing the play towards him, “just do this -thing up, and when the author calls this afternoon, tell him from me -that it is a very brilliant production, and so on, but, like Addison’s -Cato, for example, not adapted for dramatic representation. That will -sugar the pill.” - -“Is it the tall young man, with a thin face?” - -“Yes; his name is Ichabod Smith; but he writes under the _nom de plume_ -of Lionel Percy.” - -“Yes, sir; I have seen his name in the story papers. He has just written -one called ‘The Goblin Lover; or, The Haunted Tower.’” - -“Any further orders, sir?” inquired Jeffries, deferentially. - -“Has Miss Ford come?” - -“No, sir; I think not.” - -“Notice when she does, and request her to call at the office a moment.” - -“Yes, sir.” - -“It is no more than fair that I should increase her salary,” -soliloquized Mr. Bowers. “She has really proved quite a card, and richly -deserves double what I have hitherto paid. Besides,” he mused, for the -manager was by no means neglectful of his own interests, “I should not -be surprised if another establishment should try to entice her away by a -larger offer. I must bind her till the end of the season.” - -At this moment Helen was announced by Jeffries. - -She entered, not without a little feeling of embarrassment. She had not -often been brought into communication with Mr. Bowers, since her -engagement, and now the only reason that occurred to her to account for -this unexpected summons was, that she might in some way have given -dissatisfaction, although the applause which greeted her nightly seemed -hardly consistent with this idea. - -Her apprehensions were at once dispelled by the unusually gracious -manner in which she was received. - -“I am glad to see you, Miss Ford,” said Mr. Bowers, affably; motioning -her to a seat. “I have sent for you to say that your services are in the -highest degree acceptable to me and to the public. The marks of approval -which you receive nightly must be very gratifying to you as they are to -me.” - -Quite overpowered by this extraordinary condescension on the part of the -manager, whom she had been accustomed to regard with a feeling of -distant awe and respect, Helen answered that she was very glad that he -was satisfied with her. - -“To prove how highly I value your services,” continued Mr. Bowers, “I -have decided to double your weekly salary, provided you will sign an -engagement to remain with us till the end of the season.” - -Helen, who had feared on being summoned to the manager’s presence, that -it was to be told that her services were dispensed with, hardly knew how -to express her gratitude for what was so far beyond her expectations. - -“It is very generous in you, sir,” she said, “to increase my salary -without my asking for it.” - -“I always make it a point,” was the reply, “to recompense merit to the -extent of my means.” - -“And now,” he added, pushing towards her a contract already drawn up, -“if you will sign this obligation to sing for me the remainder of the -season on these terms, I shall have no further cause to trespass on your -time.” - -Helen wrote her name hastily, and withdrew from the manager’s presence, -it being already time for rehearsal. - -“A very pretty little girl, and not at all aware of her own value,” -mused Mr. Bowers. “I am lucky to have secured her.” - -Eager to communicate her increase of salary to her father and good -Martha Grey, who had always shown so warm an interest in her welfare, -Helen hastened home immediately after rehearsal. - -Flushed with exercise, and with a bright smile playing over her face, -she danced into Martha Grey’s little room. - -“O Martha!” she ejaculated, sinking into a chair, “I am all out of -breath running, I was so anxious to tell you of my good fortune. You are -the very first that I wanted to tell it to.” - -“What is it, Helen?” inquired Martha, looking up from her never-ceasing -work with an expression of interest. - -“What do you think it is? Guess now,” said Helen, smiling. - -“I never was good at guessing, Helen. I think the shortest way will be -to tell me at once.” - -“I have had my salary raised to twelve dollars a week; just think of -that, Martha: and all without my asking. I shall be able to buy ever so -many nice things for papa, now, that I couldn’t afford before; and I -mean to make you a present, besides, Martha; you’ve been so very kind to -me.” - -“Thank you for the kind thought, my dear child. I will take the will for -the deed. But you mustn’t think yourself too rich. If you have any money -to spare you had better be laying it up against a time of need. Remember -the theatre will be closed for a time in the summer, and your salary -will stop. You will want to lay up money to carry you through that -time.” - -“At any rate, Martha, if you won’t let me spend any money for you, I -shall insist on coming in now and then and helping you with your work, -so that you can gain time to walk out with me. I am afraid you work too -hard. You are looking pale.” - -“It is long since I had much color,” said Martha. “You have enough for -us both.” - -“Then you must go out and get some. But I mustn’t stop a minute longer; -I must go up and tell papa;” and she bounded up stairs with a light -heart, little suspecting what had taken place during her absence. - -What was her surprise to find her father listlessly looking out of the -window into the little court below, and otherwise quite unoccupied. - -“What is the matter, papa?” inquired Helen, in apprehension; “and -where,” for the first time noticing the absence of the work which -usually engaged her father,—“where is your machine?” - -“It is gone, my child,” said Mr. Ford, despondently. - -“Gone! what do you mean, papa? You have not got discouraged, and sent it -away?” - -“Discouraged! No, Helen; on the contrary, I never felt nearer success -than I did a few hours since. But all is changed now.” - -“What _has_ become of it, papa?” questioned Helen, in increasing alarm. - -“It has been seized for debt, Helen.” - -“For debt?” - -“Yes; for the note which I gave Mr. Sharp. I had not the money to pay -it, so they carried off my machine for security.” - -“Is it possible he has been so cruel and unfeeling?” exclaimed Helen, -indignantly. - -“Do not blame him, my child. I am convinced that it is far from his -intention to trouble or distress us. But he parted with the note a day -or two since, as he himself told me, on the express condition that it -should not be presented for payment, and this stipulation has been -disregarded.” - -“And how large was this note, papa?” - -“For three hundred dollars.” - -“_Three_ hundred! I thought it was only two hundred that were lent you.” - -“That was my own impression,” said Mr. Ford, with an air of perplexity. -“But you know,” he continued, with a melancholy smile, “that I have no -head for business. I have been so occupied in other ways. It is quite -possible that I have made a mistake.” - -“I am afraid,” said Helen, gravely, “that Mr. Sharp is not so much your -friend as you imagine.” - -“Not my friend, Helen? He offered to lend me this money voluntarily, -without any expectation of immediate return. I am certain that when he -hears of this affair, he will hasten to make it right.” - -“Perhaps I do him wrong,” said Helen, thoughtfully, “and indeed I do not -know what good it would do him to annoy us. But, papa, there is one -thing I haven’t told you,—a piece of great good news. I have had my -salary doubled at the theatre. I shall earn twelve dollars a week. Think -of that, papa.” - -“But are you not working too hard, Helen?” - -“I, working hard! It is only a pleasure for me to sing. I am very lucky -in being paid for what I would rather do than not. It is different with -poor Martha. She doesn’t earn more than four dollars a week, and has to -sit at her sewing from morning till night. I wish I could do something -to help her. She looks so tired and pale all the time.” - -“God has favored you, my child, in bestowing upon you so choice a gift. -I hope you do not fail to thank him for this goodness.” - -“Never, papa. I thank him every night.” - -“How much money have you left, papa?” she inquired, after a pause. - -“I don’t know exactly how much. I had better give it to you to help pay -our daily expenses.” - -“There are one hundred and twenty dollars,” said Helen, counting it. -“Then we shall need one hundred and eighty to make up the balance of the -sum mentioned in the note.” - -“Surely, I cannot have expended that sum,” said Mr. Ford, with a -perplexed look. “If I could see Mr. Sharp?” - -“I will go and see him, papa.” - -“Perhaps it will be best.” - -In five minutes Helen was on her way to the lawyer’s office. - - - - - CHAPTER XXV. - MR. SHARP CHANGES HIS BASE. - - -When Lewis Rand made choice of Richard Sharp, a briefless barrister, as -his agent, in preference to a lawyer of greater reputation, he was -influenced by what he considered satisfactory reasons. In the first -place, Mr. Sharp’s easy morality and lack of principle were no -unimportant qualifications for the business in which he was to be -employed; that he had good qualities of a particular kind Lewis knew; -and he judged that his lack of other clients would insure his devotion -to his interests. - -Thus far, Mr. Sharp’s management of the business intrusted to him had -quite equalled Lewis Rand’s expectations. He acknowledged that it could -not have been better done. Feeling that the lawyer’s fidelity was -insured by his own interest, he was far from anticipating any risk to -his plans from this quarter. - -Lewis Rand reasoned as a man of the world, showing, it must be admitted, -no inconsiderable insight into human character and motives. But there -was one thing which he neglected to take into the account. The lawyer -might, in the course of his investigations, discover counter interests, -which he might think it better worth his while to further than his -client’s. - -This was actually the case. - -Lewis Rand had so far taken Mr. Sharp into his confidence, that the -lawyer found little difficulty in surmising how affairs stood. Of the -forged will he was ignorant. It appeared that the only thing which stood -in the way of a reconciliation between Robert Ford and his father, was -the careful manner in which they had hitherto been kept apart by Lewis. -As the latter had confessed, his uncle had been so far desirous of a -meeting and reconciliation, that he had ordered an advertisement to be -inserted in the leading papers, notwithstanding the probability that his -son was no longer living. - -“Now,” thought Mr. Sharp, “what would be the probable consequence, if -some person—I, myself, for example—should bring together the -long-separated father and son. Naturally that person would have the -satisfaction of knowing that he had made two fellow-beings happy,”—here -Mr. Sharp looked fairly radiant with benevolence,—“and also,”—here came -in a consideration,—“and also he would stand a chance of being very -handsomely rewarded.” - -Mr. Sharp lit a fresh cigar, after which he resumed the current of his -reflections. - -“Suppose I should be that person. I should, of course, lose my present -client; but, on the other hand, I might get another, who would prove ten -times as profitable to me. In fact, he could not very well help -rewarding me handsomely, knowing that I had been the means of gaining -him a fortune. Besides, this Ford is a mere infant in matters of -business. Of course he would need somebody to manage his money concerns -for him, or he would be fleeced on every hand. It would only be an act -of common humanity to come to his assistance. Egad!” exclaimed the -lawyer, warming with the thoughts of what might be done should the -scheme succeed; “the thing’s worth trying, and I’ll be——, I mean I’ll -try it.” - -Having arrived at this praiseworthy decision, Mr. Sharp tossed the -remains of his cigar into the grate, and carefully adjusting his -invariable white hat, sallied into the street on a tour of observation. - -The object of his quest was the residence of his client. A look into the -directory guided him to the residence on Fifth Avenue, which has been -already described. He observed that the shutters were closed, as -befitted a dwelling in which there was sickness. From the sidewalk he -could read the name upon the door-plate. There could be no mistake, for -this name was Rand. - -“So far so good,” he thought, and having now obtained all the -information he at present needed, he wended his way back to the office, -and began to meditate what step next to take, when he caught the sound -of a timid knock at his office door. - -“Come in!” said Mr. Sharp, wondering if by some very extraordinary freak -of fortune it might be a second client. - -The door was opened, and Helen stole timidly in. - -She looked very sad and despondent. The length of time which must elapse -before she could at best release her father’s treasured machine, and -furnish him the wonted occupation which had so long engrossed his time -and thoughts, and upon which he founded such high hopes of fame and -fortune, naturally weighed upon her mind. She had come to acquaint Mr. -Sharp with what had happened, rather because such was her father’s -desire than because she entertained any great hopes of his assistance. - -“Miss Ford,” exclaimed Mr. Sharp, jumping from his seat and, with a wave -of the hand, politely tendering it to Helen, “This is a most unexpected -pleasure. I am delighted to see you, my dear young lady; pray, sit down, -if you will do such an honor to my humble apartment.” - -“I couldn’t stop, sir, thank you,” said Helen. “I came to let you know, -sir, at my father’s desire, that his,—I mean the work he was engaged -upon,—has been seized for debt.” - -“Bless my soul!” ejaculated Mr. Sharp, in the greatest apparent -amazement; “how did it happen?” - -“What!” exclaimed the lawyer in a tone of virtuous indignation, “is it -possible that Blunt has had the unparalleled effrontery to disturb my -esteemed friend, your father, against my express stipulation? That man -little knows that he has aimed a blow at science and the world’s -progress, and endangered the successful prosecution of the greatest -discovery of modern times. And all for the sake of a little paltry -money!” ejaculated Mr. Sharp, with disdain. “And shall this be -permitted? No, it shall not be! It must not be!” - -Here Mr. Sharp brought down his fist energetically upon the table. - -“My dear young lady, rest assured that your father shall be righted, -even though—yes, even though it strip me of my entire property.” - -It may be remarked that the lawyer’s entire property, which he was ready -to sacrifice so heroically in the service of his friend, made but a -small show on the tax-gatherer’s book. - -Nevertheless Helen, who gave him credit for perfect sincerity, began to -think she had judged very harshly of Mr. Sharp, and the delightful hope -that through his means would once more be restored to her father the -employment so necessary to his happiness, filled her with the liveliest -emotions of gratitude. - -“O sir,” said she, earnestly, “we will both pray for and bless you.” - -“My dear Miss Ford,” said the lawyer, in his emotion brushing away an -imaginary tear, “say no more. Although you will, I know, acquit me of -having had anything to do directly in bringing about your father’s -misfortune, it was, I am painfully conscious, the result of my -entrusting the note to that villain Blunt, who has acted in a manner -unworthy of a gentleman,—in a manner which will compel me to break off -all business relations with him in future; I feel that it is my duty to -do what I can to repair the results of my indiscretion.” - -Mr. Sharp rose rapidly in Helen’s estimation. The respect with which he -spoke of her father, and the warmth with which he espoused his -interests, impressed the unsuspecting child most favorably. She began to -wonder how she could ever have thought of him otherwise than as a -friend. She even felt a degree of compunction and self-reproach for -having harbored suspicions of so excellent a man. - -“You can return home quite at ease, my dear Miss Ford,” resumed Mr. -Sharp. “Within two hours at most I will take care that your father’s -property shall be restored to him.” - -“Will you, sir?” said Helen, her eyes lighting up with gratitude. “Oh, I -shall feel so relieved. We shall be very much indebted to you.” - -“Do not thank me, my dear Miss Ford. I feel that I am, in some respects, -unsuited to my profession. A lawyer should be made of sterner stuff. I -rejoice that your father should have sent to me immediately. It is a -proof of his confidence, which I value. He will always find in me a true -friend, and I trust he will not fail to call upon me for assistance -whenever any trouble shall befall him. Your father, my dear Miss Ford, -is a man of genius; but, as you perhaps have observed, is not so well -versed in the ways of the world as those who possess not a tithe of his -inventive talent and intellectual ability.” - -Helen was quite ready to acknowledge a deficiency which no one knew -better than herself. - -“Mind, my dear young lady,” continued Mr. Sharp, “I do not speak of this -as in any way derogatory to your father or at all detracting from his -scientific eminence. I would not have him other than he is. No one can -be great in all things, as Cicero so eloquently observes. What if your -father is a little deficient in worldly sagacity? Was not this the case -with all who have distinguished themselves in the higher departments of -science and literature? Why, the great Sir Isaac Newton himself was -noted for his absence of mind, and some very curious stories are told of -this trait. Milton, too, knew so little how to drive a bargain, that he -actually sold his great poem for five pounds. So I consider your -father’s want of practical talent one of the most convincing proofs of -his superior mental endowments.” - -Whatever may be thought of Mr. Sharp’s reasoning, it was enough for -Helen that he spoke in praise of her father, whom she revered. No praise -of herself could so effectually have won her entire confidence. With -light heart she left the lawyer’s office, and hastened home to impart to -her father the glad tidings. - -“I have crossed the Rubicon,” said Mr. Sharp, thoughtfully. “I must now -arrange the details of my _coup d’etat_.” - - - - - CHAPTER XXVI. - A SHORT CHAPTER. - - -Mr. Sharp had now taken the first step towards betraying his client, and -was determined not to turn back. Having so far committed himself, he -felt that policy dictated expedition. Should Mr. Rand suddenly die -before he could bring about an interview between him and Mr. Ford, all -would be lost. That interview must take place with the least possible -delay. - -Mr. Sharp, accordingly, set out at once for Mr. Ford’s dwelling. - -A moderate walk brought him to the modest lodging of the inventor. - -He paused a moment to compose his face to the proper expression of -sympathetic regret, and then entering, grasped the hand of Mr. Ford. - -“I sympathize with you sincerely in your misfortune,” he remarked, in a -feeling tone, “and it is to me a poignant reflection that it has -occurred partly through my means; but I trust your kindness will absolve -me from any suspicion of complicity.” - -“I do, and have,” said Mr. Ford, frankly, extending his hand. “From the -first, I could not even imagine, Mr. Sharp, that you had anything to do -with it.” - -“You only do me justice,” said Mr. Sharp, wringing the offered hand with -affectionate energy; “you only do me justice, sir, and yet I have been -culpable; I have been guilty of an indiscretion; I should not have -intrusted a note which affected your interests, to so unscrupulous a man -as Blunt. Mild as is my temperament,” he continued, with a sudden burst -of ferocity, “I do not hesitate to pronounce that man an unmitigated -villain.” - -He paused a moment to recover himself, and resumed in a different tone, -with a look of respectful admiration directed towards Helen. - -“As soon as I heard the details of this affair from the lips of your -charming daughter, whose filial devotion is, I may observe, the most -beautiful trait of her character, I hastened here to assure you of my -sympathy and assistance. I think I may promise, that your invaluable -machinery will be restored to you before night. I can only express my -extreme regret that you have been compelled to suspend your labors, even -for the space of a few hours.” - -“Thank you for your kindness,” said Mr. Ford, gratefully. “I shall -always feel that I am deeply indebted to you for your disinterested -friendship.” - -“Sir,” said Mr. Sharp, visibly affected, “I would, if it were possible, -express how much I am gratified by your words; but there are feelings -which must be hidden in the heart, and to which no language can do -justice. Let me say, briefly, that such are my feelings on the present -occasion. You have been pleased to refer to the little service which it -has been in my power to render you. But, sir, you have no cause for -gratitude. It is the interest I feel in the advancement of science, to -which you have consecrated your life energies. It is my earnest desire -to help forward, in my way, the important discovery which is to hand -down your name to future generations.” - -“If you will excuse me,” said Helen, putting on her bonnet, “I am going -out to get something for dinner; and if,” she added, hesitatingly, “Mr. -Sharp would do us the favor to sit down with us, papa, I am sure we -should be very glad to have him.” - -“That is well thought of, Helen,” said her father, approvingly. “I shall -be very glad to have Mr. Sharp do so, if he can find sufficient -inducement.” - -“Sufficient inducement!” echoed the lawyer, with the air of a man who -had received an invitation to a royal banquet; “I shall be most proud, -most happy, to accept your invitation, and that of your charming -daughter. Unworthy as I feel myself of this distinction, I will yet -accept it.” - -“Unworthy! you, who have to-day shown yourself so truly my friend? It is -but a faint expression of our gratitude.” - -“You are very kind to say so,” said Mr. Sharp, with an effusion of -feeling. “Yet I cannot help feeling that you judge me too favorably. -Indeed, were it not that I have a revelation of some importance to make -to you, I should scarcely venture to accept your invitation.” - -“Be seated, Mr. Sharp,” said Mr. Ford, somewhat surprised at the -lawyer’s words; “I shall, of course, feel interested in anything you may -have to impart. Helen, my dear, you will not be gone long?” - -“No, papa.” - -She closed the door, and descended the stairs, with her market-basket on -her arm. - - - - - CHAPTER XXVII. - HELEN’S BANQUET. - - -When Helen had departed on her errand, Mr. Sharp commenced,— - -“You will pardon me,” he said, “if, in the preliminary inquiries I may -have to make, there may be anything of a nature to harrow up your -feelings, or recall painful scenes.” - -Mr. Ford looked surprised. - -“May I inquire if you have a father living?” - -A painful shadow flitted over the face of Mr. Ford. He answered, -presently,— - -“You may be surprised when I answer, that I do not know.” - -“I am _not_ surprised,” said Mr. Sharp, inclining his head gently. “This -was the answer I anticipated.” - -Once more Mr. Ford regarded his visitor with a look of surprise. - -“Is it possible,” he said, not without hesitation, “that you should know -anything of my unhappy history?” - -“Of that you shall judge. What if I should say, for example, that the -name by which you are known is not your real one?” - -“I cannot conjecture where you obtained your information, but it is -correct. My real name is not Ford.” - -“And is—Rand.” - -“You are right; but how——” - -“A moment, if you please. I have more to tell you. You were born to -wealth, and being an only son, were sole heir to your father’s -possessions. You were not, however, without a companion,—a cousin, whom -your father generously took under his charge.” - -“Lewis?” - -“Yes, Lewis Rand; he shared your studies and your sports, and was, in -all respects, treated like yourself. The only difference was in your -prospects. You were to inherit a large fortune, while he——” - -“My father would have provided for him.” - -“No doubt, but not equally. That would not have been expected, of -course. When Lewis grew old enough to understand this, it filled him -with envy and jealousy.” - -“Can this be true?” asked Robert Ford—to call him by the name to which -we are accustomed,—“can this be true? yet he was always cordial and -friendly. His manner never afforded any ground for suspecting that he -cherished such feelings.” - -“He knew his own interests too well for that. Inferior as his prospects -were, they all depended upon your father’s good-will. It would, -therefore, have been in the highest degree unwise, to disclose a feeling -sure to alienate it.” - -“Perhaps you are right,” said Mr. Ford, thoughtfully. - -“Therefore, he only nursed this feeling in secret. Yet he none the less -watched for an opportunity to injure you. His patience was at length -rewarded. That time arrived.” - -Robert Ford, as if half surmising what was to follow, rose in some -agitation, and began to pace the room. - -“I trust,” said Mr. Sharp, “you will excuse me for introducing a -delicate subject. There is a time when the susceptible heart of a young -man first yields to the tender passion.” - -“I understand you,” said Mr. Ford, in a low voice. - -“Am I right in saying, that however nobly adorned in other respects, the -object of your attachment was not wealthy?” - -Mr. Ford bowed his head. - -“Unfortunately for your happiness, your father wished you to wed a -wealthy wife, and withheld his approbation from your choice. You, my -dear sir, with a magnanimity, which, I am sure, does you infinite -credit, clung to your chosen bride, portionless though she was, and, in -spite of your father’s disapprobation, married her.” - -“I did,” said Robert Ford, with emotion; “and however grieved I may have -been, and still am, at my father’s continued resentment, that step I -never regretted. You have seen Helen. It may have been a parent’s -partiality, but I have always regarded her as uncommonly sweet and -attractive.” - -Mr. Sharp, in a very high-flown eulogium, intimated that such was his -own estimate. - -“When I tell you,” pursued Mr. Ford, “that Helen bears a very striking -resemblance to her mother, not in person only, but in sweetness and -amiability, your heart will suggest an excuse for my perhaps unfilial -conduct.” - -“Sir,” said Mr. Sharp, warmly, “had you done otherwise than you did, had -you abandoned, at the bidding of a paltry self-interest, the heart that -had learned to love and trust you, I should not have felt one half the -respect for you which I now entertain. But, to resume my story. The -first difficulty between your father and yourself was hailed with -delight by your cousin. It was an occasion for which he had long been -watching. It is needless to say, that he used every means to widen the -breach, so artfully, however, as not to allow either your father or -yourself to suspect his purpose. Possibly you can recall some -circumstances which will confirm what I have said.” - -“I remember,” said Robert, thoughtfully, “that my cousin professed to -sympathize with me most warmly, and counselled me, by all means, to -carry out my purpose, in opposition to my father’s will. He assured me -that my father would finally yield, when he learned that my heart was -unalterably fixed, and that opposition would prove unavailing.” - -“At the same time,” said the lawyer, “he was giving similar assurances -to your father. He told him, that when you were satisfied that his -consent could not be obtained, you would yield the point, and conform to -his wishes.” - -“Was my cousin indeed so wicked?” asked Robert, with more pain than -anger in his tone. - -“That was not all. In order to add to your father’s indignation, he took -care to describe your betrothed in the most odious colors. He not only -charged her with poverty, but represented her as an artful and designing -country girl, uneducated and unrefined, whose only object in marrying -you was to gratify a vulgar taste for finery and ostentation. In fact, -he taxed his imagination to the utmost, in the endeavor to portray her -in a manner which he knew would render her most unacceptable to the -family pride of your father. I should add that he even denied her the -charm of personal beauty, and pictured her to your father as equally -unattractive in mind and person.” - -A red spot glowed in the pale cheek of Robert Ford, who, mild as he was, -could not hear unmoved this vile slander upon one he loved. To do Mr. -Sharp justice, what he said was not exaggerated, but strictly in -accordance with truth. - -“Are you sure of this?” he asked, pacing the room in a perturbed manner. - -“I am. You shall know my authority soon, but not now.” - -“Now, I am not surprised at my father’s continued resentment. To traduce -my Helen so cruelly!” - -“You will not wonder that all this should have had the effect -intended,—that of confirming your father in his opposition. You married, -and left this part of the country.” - -“Yes; I went to the West.” - -“And did you hear nothing from your father afterwards?” - -“Never, directly.” - -“Yet you had not been married six months before he began to relent, and -feel that he might have exercised undue severity.” - -“Is it, indeed, so?” asked Robert, his face lighting up. - -“It is. I need scarcely say that your cousin observed, with -apprehension, your father’s returning mildness. Lest it might lead to a -complete reconciliation, he resolved to get your father out of the -country. He accordingly proposed a European tour, to which he procured -your father’s assent. Preparations were hurriedly made. They sailed for -Liverpool, and several years were spent in visiting the principal cities -of Europe.” - -Robert Ford, to whom this was new, listened intently. - -“At length they returned. Then, in order that you might more effectually -lose all trace of your father, he persuaded him to sell the estate upon -which he had hitherto resided, and remove——” - -“Whither?” demanded Mr. Ford, eagerly. - -“I will tell you presently.” - -“I had written to my father. Were none of my letters received?” - -“They were,—by Lewis. Of course, he took care to suppress them. -Nevertheless, your father still felt a strong desire to see you once -more, and tell you that he had forgiven you. Lewis again became alarmed, -and, as a last resort, caused your death to be inserted in a western -paper, and shown to your father. This was sufficient for that time. -Within a brief period, however, his apprehensions and your father’s -desire to see you have again become excited. Your father one day caught -a glimpse of you in the street.” - -“What do you say?” exclaimed Robert Ford, in agitation. “My father saw -me? Where does he live?” - -“In this city,—in New York. He recognized you in spite of the long -separation, and so did Lewis; but the latter took the greatest care to -assure your father that he was mistaken; that you had long been dead. -Nevertheless, he was not wholly convinced. Though not in the least -doubting your cousin’s good faith, he answered that there might be some -mistake; that it was possible you were still living.” - -“My dear father!” - -“The uncertainty, and the anxious longing to see you, to which it has -given rise, has, together with his age, made him severely ill. His life -is even in danger.” - -“He is not dead!” exclaimed Robert, in an agitated tone. - -“No, or I should have been informed. He directed your cousin to -advertise for you in the public papers, such was his desire to hear from -you, if still living.” - -“I have not looked into a paper for months.” - -“If you had, you would not have seen the advertisement. Your cousin has -been much too careful for that. Though he appeared to acquiesce in your -father’s desire, and made him believe that he had complied with his -request, he never did so.” - -“And is my father still sick?” - -“He is, and his greatest desire is to see you before he dies.” - -Robert Ford rose hastily, and, going to the table, took his hat. - -“What would you do, sir?” - -“I must go and see my father. Did you not say he wished it?” - -“Stay,” said Mr. Sharp; “whatever is to be done must be done cautiously, -or your cousin’s suspicions will be aroused, and your purpose -frustrated. I will arrange matters, if you will authorize me.” - -“Surely; but let not the delay be too long. Perhaps my father will die -before I can see him.” - -“I will take care to expedite matters.” - -“I leave all in your hands; but tell me at least where you have obtained -the information you have communicated.” - -“From your cousin himself.” - -“Did he confess it, then?” asked Mr. Ford, surprised. - -“He consulted me professionally. But, sir,” continued Mr. Sharp, in a -tone of lofty consciousness, “as soon as I became aware of the iniquity -in which he desired my assistance, I at once determined to do all that -might be in my power to defeat his nefarious designs.” - -Nothing could exceed the moral dignity with which Mr. Sharp uttered -these words. - -“I will not tell you,” he continued, with commendable self-denial, “how -many thousands your cousin offered, if I would assist him. But for the -hope of aiding in his discomfiture, I should have rejected his offers -with indignation. Money is no temptation to me where right is concerned. -But to the point. In the present case, I temporized. Your cousin even -now thinks I am devoted to his interests, and it is best that he should -not be undeceived.” - -“Do you know where my father lives?” inquired Robert, anxiously. - -“It is in Fifth Avenue. After dinner I will give you the direction so -that you cannot miss it. You must be cautious in your approach, and when -the door is opened, proceed at once to your father’s room. It is very -probable that the servant will oppose your progress, but if you yield, -Lewis will take good care that you never have another opportunity. May I -request on the score of prudence, that you will not compromise me, or -drop the slightest intimation that I have had any agency in sending you -thither?” - -“My dear friend,” said Robert Ford, fervently, “you may rest assured -that I will respect your wishes, of whose wisdom I entertain not a -doubt.” - -He shook hands with Mr. Sharp, cordially. The lawyer, with an appearance -of profound emotion, put his handkerchief to his eyes, and returned the -pressure. - -At this moment Helen entered, followed by a waiter from a restaurant, -from which, on this day of rejoicing, she had been extravagant enough to -order a dinner. - -The little table was quickly set out in the middle of the room, and -spread with a white cloth, and upon it the savory food was placed. This -was, indeed, an extraordinary occasion. - -“Why, you are setting forth quite a banquet, my dear Miss Ford,” said -Mr. Sharp, rubbing his hands gently, for he was by no means insensible -to the pleasures of the palate. - -At this moment Martha Grey, the seamstress, unaware of the lawyer’s -visit, knocked at the door. - -“Just in time, Martha,” said Helen, gayly. “We want you to sit on this -side the table.” - -“I couldn’t think of it,” said Martha, glancing at Mr. Sharp. - -“I hope you will accept my daughter’s invitation,” said Mr. Ford, -courteously. “Permit me, Mr. Sharp, to introduce our excellent neighbor, -Miss Grey.” - -“I am proud to make your acquaintance, Miss Grey,” said the lawyer, -bowing profoundly. “Any friend of my esteemed friends, Mr. and Miss -Ford, needs no other recommendation in my eyes. May I express the hope -that you are well?” - -“Quite so, thank you, sir,” said Martha, a little overpowered by the -lawyer’s elaborate civility. - -She was at length persuaded to make a fourth at Helen’s banquet. - -How much it was enjoyed by all present, not one of whom was accustomed -to such good fare every day; how proudly and gracefully Helen did the -honors of the occasion; how merrily they all laughed at the bungling -attempts of Mr. Ford to carve the fowls, and how, finally, he was -compelled to call in the lawyer’s assistance; how genial and affable Mr. -Sharp was, and how he insisted on proposing the health of Martha Grey, -much to that young lady’s modest confusion; how his deference for her -father raised him every moment in Helen’s estimation,—all this I must -leave to the imagination of the reader, while I prepare in the next -chapter to invite him to a different scene. - - - - - CHAPTER XXVIII. - THE BELL RINGS. - - -Two persons who are nearly concerned in the revelation made by Mr. Sharp -to Robert Ford, now demand our attention. - -First, Mr. Rand, who, upon a sick-bed, worn-out by anxiety and bodily -weakness, is fast drifting towards that unseen world, where all that is -dark and mysterious here will be disclosed, and we shall know even as we -are known. The second, is Lewis Rand, his unworthy nephew, whose whole -soul is absorbed by the eager desire to secure to himself his uncle’s -large fortune. Why this thirst for gold should so have possessed him, is -not so clear. It was not that his habits were extravagant, for such was -not the case. He was no voluptuary, at least not in the lowest sense of -the word. It was not for the mere love of money that he craved it. He -was elevated above the mere miser; but money was valuable to him for the -power which it conferred, and the consequence which it gave. Lewis -Rand’s ambition had taken this form. He desired to be known everywhere -as the possessor of a princely fortune. He wished others to fawn upon -him as he had fawned upon his uncle. As his dependence had compelled him -to remain in a subordinate position, he wished others to become -subordinates to him. Money he must have, somehow. So for years he had -labored to establish and strengthen his position as his uncle’s heir. -The inheritance which he craved, would make him at once a millionnaire. - -As a general who has fortified a city, so as to make it, as he -considers, impregnable, and at the last discovers a weak place which -endangers the whole, exerts all his energy and all the resources which -he can command to counteract the danger, so Lewis had, as we have seen, -set in motion certain agencies, through which he hoped to avert the -peril which menaced him in his cousin’s presence. - -“Have you received no letters in answer to the advertisement, Lewis?” -asked Mr. Rand, feebly. - -“No, uncle, none whatever.” - -Mr. Rand sighed, and fell back upon his pillow. - -The crimson bed-curtains were drawn apart, revealing the thin and wasted -form of the old man. Thinner and more attenuated he grew day by day. -Each day the result of the struggle for life became less doubtful. A -strong desire for life might have given the needed stimulus to the vital -functions, and turned the scale against death, but the sick man had -ceased to desire it. - -None saw this more clearly than Lewis. With his cold, searching eye he -had followed the slow advances of the destroyer. Not a word, however, -had escaped him. How he trembled when the lamp of life burned for a -time with a steadier radiance, lest, perchance, it might prove a -harbinger of ultimate recovery; and when the momentary glow had -departed, and the lamp burned so low that it seemed near its final -extinction, he breathed more freely, and a glow of triumph lighted up -his dark features,—features that might the next moment wear a look of -the deepest sympathy. For Lewis had schooled them to obey the dictates -of his will, and had not fear that they would betray him. He was a -gamester who had staked his all upon a single venture, and was -watching the chances with intense eagerness. - -Morning after morning as he stole to his uncle’s bedside, it was with a -secret hope veiled under an appearance of the greatest solicitude, that -he might find the struggle ended. Each day he hoped might prove the -last,—that from his heart the burden of anxiety and the weariness of -waiting might at once and forever be lifted. - -Fortunate was it for the old man’s peace, that he could not read this -wicked wish in the eyes that were bent upon him. There was little fear. -Could he conceive it possible that one whom he had long regarded with an -affection second only to that which he bore his own son, who all his -life long had never ceased to receive his bounty; could he dream that -Lewis was capable of cherishing in his heart a hope so unnatural? So far -from this, the faintest shadow of distrust had never entered his uncle’s -thoughts. In his face he read nothing but sympathy and compassion. Mr. -Lewis Rand, could you but sound the depth of wickedness in your own -heart, could you drag it forth to the light and survey it in all its -deformity, how would even your hardened nature shrink aghast and -horror-stricken? Heaven only knows with what a web of sophistry you -excuse this treachery of the heart. Could this be rent away, you could -hardly stand as calmly as you do by the bedside of that old man, belying -in your heart the filial words that fall so glibly from your tongue. Can -you who have the power to bring happiness and peace to that bedside, and -its unhappy occupant, who can bring the light of joy to those eyes soon -to close forever, and repair a great injustice, still refuse to do it? -There may come a time, whether near or remote, Heaven alone knows, when -you would give all the wealth for which you are scheming if you had only -done it. - -On receiving a negative answer to his question, Mr. Rand remained for -some time silent, with his face turned to the wall. - -“It would be a great relief,” he sighed, wearily, “if I could but see my -son once before I die.” - -“When will he be done harping on his son?” muttered Lewis to himself. -“He seems determined to torment me with it.” - -He said aloud, with a proper display of emotion, “Do not speak of dying, -uncle. You will yet recover.” - -“Never, Lewis, never. There is something that tells me this sickness -will be my last. My feet will soon enter the dark valley of the shadow -of death. I have reached the age set by the Psalmist as the limit of -human life. Even your kind solicitude cannot call me back from the grave -that awaits me.” - -“I should be very sorry if it did,” was the unspoken thought of Lewis, -as he replied, covering his face with his handkerchief, as if to conceal -his emotion, “you are—you must be deceived; you are looking brighter -to-day.” - -“Lewis, your hopes deceive you. On the contrary, I never felt weaker -than I do to-day. I have never felt more entirely satisfied of the -hopelessness of my situation. Yet why do I say ‘hopelessness?’ I do not -fear death. Rather I welcome it as a friend. I feel no vain longing for -a continuance of that life which is gliding from my grasp. For the last -few years I have enjoyed too little happiness to make it seem very -attractive. Wealth can do little. Even your kind attentions have failed. -The consciousness of wrong done and unatoned for has followed me all -these years. One wrong act has imbittered all my earthly existence.” - -“My dear uncle, I regret that you should dwell upon such painful -thoughts. Even if you were in fault, which I do not believe, you are -agitating yourself now to no purpose.” - -“Let me speak now, Lewis. The thought is always with me, and I am -relieved by speaking. Never, Lewis, suffer yourself to be led hastily -into a wrong act—never, as you value your soul’s peace. The thought will -come back to you in after years, and never leave you; you may surround -yourself with all that wealth can give, even as I have done, and your -heart will still be an aching void into which no thought of joy or -happiness shall enter. When you are on your death-bed, as I am now, you -will feel how inestimable above all things else is that peace of mind -which comes from a clear conscience and an unblemished life.” - -Standing thus at his uncle’s bedside, with more than one sin unexpiated -upon his soul, could Lewis listen unmoved to words which gained so deep -a significance from this utterance by a dying man? Even he felt vaguely -uncomfortable as he listened, mingled with an angry impatience which, -however, he dared not betray. - -“I feel a deep conviction,” continued Mr. Rand, “that Robert is still -living. I cannot tell whence it comes, but of nothing am I more -thoroughly persuaded. I had hoped that the advertisement would prove -effectual in finding him out. You are sure that you caused its insertion -in papers of the largest circulation?” - -“I have followed your directions, uncle,” said Lewis, unblushingly, -“notwithstanding my fear that it would lead to nothing.” - -“You did right, Lewis. After I am gone, I wish you to continue the -advertisement. Your cousin will see it sooner or later. I am quite sure -of that. And when after a time he comes back to you, I wish you to see -that the provisions of my will are carried out. I will not claim your -promise. I know that you will do so.” - -Lewis bowed, but forebore to speak. - -“That is not all. You must tell him, Lewis, how I have sought for him, -and how with a sorrowful heart I deplored my own injustice, from which -he cannot have suffered more than I. You may tell him that I forgive him -if he feels that there is anything to forgive, in the hope that he will -forgive me who need it so much more. You will tell him all this, Lewis?” - -“Can you doubt it, uncle?” asked Lewis, evasively. - -“No, Lewis, I have perfect confidence in you. You never have deceived -me, and you will not begin now; and, Lewis, you must try to atone to -Robert, in my stead, for the wrong he has suffered. Never let your -affection for me persuade you that it was not a wrong. I would far -rather have you think harshly of me, than unjustly of your cousin.” - -“I will endeavor to obey you even in that, hard though it be,” said -Lewis. - -At that moment the quiet of the sick-chamber was broken in by a sharp -peal of the door-bell. It was so unusual an occurrence in that solitary -household, that it startled both. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIX. - THE UNBIDDEN GUEST. - - -I cannot explain why it was, that the unexpected ringing of the bell led -to the same thought in the minds of the sick man and his nephew. Sudden -fear blanched the face of Lewis; a hopeful look stole over the old man’s -face. - -“Go, Lewis,” he said. “Perhaps it is Robert.” - -“Heaven forbid!” muttered Lewis, as he hastened from the room. - -The sound of contending voices struck upon the ear of Lewis Rand, as he -hurriedly descended the staircase to the hall. The outer door had been -opened, and the servant was endeavoring to impress upon the visitor, in -obedience to directions he had received, that there was sickness in the -house, and that he could not be admitted. - -“Lead me to his chamber,” said Robert Ford, pale with excitement, “I -_must_ see him. He is my father.” - -The servant looked in his agitated face, and moved aside that he might -pass. - -Lewis encountered him at the foot of the stairs. They looked at each -other—those long-estranged cousins—a moment in silence. Lewis was as -pale as death. His lips were compressed and bloodless. The shadow of -failure darkened his way. Dismay and anger and strong disappointment -struggled with him for the mastery. Robert was calmer. He would not have -been human if the sight of his cousin had not awakened within him a -feeling of resentment. But this was swallowed up by a feeling yet -stronger—the desire to see his father. - -“Where is my father, Lewis?” he demanded. “Tell me quickly.” - -He was about to pass, when his cousin stepped before him. - -“Hold!” he exclaimed, in a quick, hoarse voice. “Would you endanger your -father’s life? He is in a most critical condition. The least excitement -may kill him.” - -Robert hesitated for a moment. After a separation of eighteen years he -stood within a few feet of his father, and was forbidden to enter his -presence. Nothing short of the urgent reason adduced by Lewis, would -have stopped him for a moment. - -“Is my father, then, so ill?” he asked, with emotion. “Why, oh why did -you not send for me before?” - -“Do you think I would not if I had known where to find you?” said Lewis, -ignorant how far Robert had been apprised of his machinations. - -“I cannot tell,” said Robert, shaking his head. “There was a time, -Lewis, when I could not have deemed you capable of it.” - -“And why should you now?” - -“I cannot tell you at present; but I must see my father.” - -“I tell you again,” said Lewis, vehemently, “that if you see him, it -will be at the peril of his life. It hangs upon a thread.” - -Meanwhile Mr. Rand had listened with feverish anxiety to the voices -which he could indistinctly hear. A wild hope had sprung up in his -heart. Oh, for the power to rise from his bed and satisfy himself at -once. Alas, this could not be! At length, as the speakers raised their -voices, he thought he could distinguish the word “father.” His agitation -reached a fearful pitch. He raised his voice as high as his feeble -strength would permit, and called “Robert!” - -That word reached the ears of Robert Ford. Nothing could stop him now. -He pushed Lewis aside, scarcely conscious what he did, and a moment -after found him kneeling at his father’s bedside. - -“Father, forgive me!” - -The old man, with an effort, stretched out his thin and wasted hand, and -placed it tremulous with weakness upon the head of his kneeling son. - -“God, I thank thee,” he uttered, reverently, “for this hour. This my son -was dead and is alive again, he was lost and is found. Robert, I have -forgiven you long ago. Can you forgive me?” - -“Do you then ask my forgiveness, O my father?” - -“Yes, Robert. My heart has long since confessed the wrong it did you. -Can you forgive me?” - -“Freely, freely, my father.” - -“Now can I die content,” said Mr. Rand, with a deep sigh of relief. “For -many, many years I have waited and looked forward to this hour. I could -not believe that God would suffer me to die till I had seen you.” - -“Die!” repeated Robert, in a sorrowful tone. - -“Yes, Robert, you have come at the eleventh hour.” - -“And for months I have lived within two miles of you, and never guessed -your nearness.” - -“Did you not see my advertisement?” - -“Never.” - -“How is this?” said Mr. Rand, puzzled. “In what papers was it inserted, -Lewis?” - -Lewis stood at the door, an apprehensive listener. For obvious reasons -he did not choose to obey this call. - -“It may be because I seldom look at the papers,” said Robert, not -wishing to agitate his father with the intelligence of his cousin’s -treachery. - -“But others must have seen it,” persisted Mr. Rand. “Why did they not -tell you?” - -“I passed by a different name,” explained Robert. “None that knew me—and -these were but few—could guess my identity with Robert Rand.” - -At his father’s request Robert gave a brief account of the eighteen -years of separation. He sat with his father’s hand resting in his. As he -concluded, a convulsion passed over the old man’s features. He clasped -Robert’s hand convulsively. The son leaned forward, hoping to catch the -words that seemed struggling for utterance. He could only distinguish -“my will—reparation.” - -These were the last words that passed the lips of the dying man. - -He breathed his life out in the effort, and fell back—dead! - -Robert had, indeed, come at the eleventh hour. Yet had he not come too -late to make his father’s death-bed happy. A peaceful smile rested upon -the worn face. His life had closed happily. - -Meanwhile what had become of Lewis? - -It was difficult for him at first to collect his thoughts at this most -unexpected occurrence. - -At first he thought, “All is lost. My hopes are blasted!” - -His second thought, when he had recovered from the momentary shock of -his cousin’s appearance, was, “It may not be as bad as I fear. The old -man cannot live long. This very excitement will probably prove too much -for him in his present weak state. During the short time he has to live, -it is not probable that anything will happen to disarrange my plans. In -the first place, he thinks that his will provides for his son. _And so -his true will does!_ But I have taken care that this shall not be -brought forward. My uncle and cousin will probably spend the time in -sentimentalizing. It will be well for me not to intrude upon this -interview, or I may be asked some awkward questions. Lewis Rand, this is -the turning-point of your fortunes. Be discreet for a short time, and -all may yet be well.” - -There was one point that Lewis did not understand. How his cousin could -have learned of his father’s presence in the city. He did not suspect -Mr. Sharp’s fidelity, but thought it possible that he might, by some -blunder, have revealed to Robert that of which he should have been kept -ignorant. At all events the lawyer was the only one likely to yield him -any satisfaction upon this point. Accordingly, willing to be out of the -way for the present, he seized his hat, and hastened to the office of -his confidential agent. - -Mr. Sharp was, it must be confessed, awaiting with no little anxiety and -curiosity, the result of Mr. Ford’s visit, which might so materially -effect his own interests. - -There was a sharp knock at the door. He rose and opened it. - -Lewis entered in great evident perturbation. - -“Bless me, what’s the matter?” exclaimed Mr. Sharp, in affected -surprise. - -“You may well ask me what’s the matter.” - -“You don’t mean to say——” - -“I do mean to say that all my plans are menaced with defeat.” - -“But, how?” - -“My cousin Robert is at this moment with his father.” - -“Good heavens!” ejaculated the lawyer, in admirably counterfeited -consternation. “How did this come about?” - -“That is more than I can pretend to say. I came to you for the sake of -obtaining information.” - -“Which I am wholly unable to afford.” - -Lewis threw himself upon a chair. - -“To think,” he exclaimed, bitterly, “that this should happen when I am -just within reach of success. Twenty-four hours more, and it would -probably have been too late!” - -“How?” - -“I mean that my uncle probably has not twenty-four hours lease of life, -unless this meeting revives him. The probability is, that it will have a -contrary effect.” - -“Do you consider that you have lost all?” - -“Fortunately, no. I am in hopes that this interview will, after all, -prove of no advantage to my cousin.” - -“Ah!” said Mr. Sharp, rubbing his hands with apparent delight, but -secret anxiety, beginning for the first time to feel that he would not -be recompensed for his treachery. - -“Yes. It is not likely that my uncle will be able to make a new will, -and the present one I shall be very well contented with.” - -“Confusion!” thought the lawyer. “I wish I could only see the old -gentleman, and whisper a few words in his ear.” - -If Lewis had not been too much absorbed in calculating his own chance, -he might have noticed that Mr. Sharp’s wonted affability had deserted -him, and that he, too, seemed preoccupied. - - - - - CHAPTER XXX. - PALLIDA MORS. - - -After his interview with the lawyer, Lewis took his way home; his heart -alternately cheered with hope, or disturbed by apprehension. On the -whole, however, hope predominated. It was based on the knowledge that -neither his uncle nor his cousin were men of business, and at this -moment both would have too many other things to think of to recur to -that which he dreaded. - -As he opened the outer door, he met a servant in the hall. - -“How is my uncle, now, Jane?” he asked. - -“I don’t know, sir; I haven’t been up stairs since you went away.” - -“Is my—is the gentleman that came in a little while ago still here?” he -inquired, anxiously. - -“Yes, sir, I think so; I haven’t seen him go out.” - -“Have you heard any talking? I am afraid my uncle will be too much -excited by a visitor at this time.” - -“I heard a faint murmur like as if they were talking awhile ago, but I -haven’t heard anything for a few minutes. May I be so bold as to ask if -the gentleman is a relation, sir?” - -“Yes,” said Lewis, shortly. “You say you have heard no sound proceeding -from the room for a few minutes?” - -“No, sir.” - -“Perhaps he is dead,” thought Lewis, hopefully. “At any rate, I will go -up and see.” - -“That will do,” he said to the servant, who was still in waiting. “I am -going up into my uncle’s room, and if I should want you I will ring.” - -“I wonder who the gentleman is,” said the servant, to herself. “He said -Mr. Rand was his father. I never heard that he had a son, for my part. -If he is, I suppose he will inherit the property. I wonder how Mr. Lewis -will like that. Well, I don’t much care if he is disappointed, for I -don’t like him, and never did.” - -The dictatorial manner of Lewis had not gained him friends among the -servants, and none of them could be expected to feel a very profound -sorrow for any reverses which fate might have in store for him. - -Lewis Rand softly ascended the stairs, and entered his uncle’s -bed-chamber. - -It needed only a glance to assure him that his wish was granted. His -heart leaped with exultation at the thought. This was the only thing -which could give him a perfect sense of security. Now, by the -substitution of the forged will, he felt that his interests were -secured. The estate was his beyond the possibility of a transfer. - -Now that his cousin was no longer to be feared as a rival, he felt that -it would be both safe and politic, to treat him with a degree of -consideration. This course would be likely to mislead suspicion, if any -should be excited, when it was found, as it soon would be, that his -cousin shared no portion of his father’s princely estate. - -“My uncle sleeps?” he said, inquiringly, as he entered the chamber. - -“Yes,” said Robert, solemnly, lifting up a wan face from the bed-clothes -in which it was buried; “the sleep that knows no waking.” - -Apparently much shocked at this intelligence, Lewis started back with an -ejaculation of sorrow. - -“I ought not to feel surprised,” he said, in a low voice; “it is an -event which I have been expecting and fearing for many weeks. Yet its -actual coming finds me unprepared.” - -With his mournful gaze intently fixed upon the old man’s face, Robert -paid little heed to his cousin’s words. Thoughts of the long weary years -that had intervened since he parted from his father, then in the -strength and pride of that manhood, upon which he himself was just -entering, and the changes that had since come over each, till the -present sad moment brought them together, crowded upon him with a force -which he could not resist, and he sat there, looking straight before -him, vainly endeavoring to reconcile the past with the present, till he -was tempted to think the past eighteen years but a dream, from which he -would ere long awake. - -It did not take him long to recover from that delusion. - -As he lifted his eyes he met his own reflection in the mirror opposite. -That was no young man’s face that met his gaze. The freshness of youth, -had given place to the grave careworn look of later years. The once dark -hair was threaded here and there with silver. The smooth brow was sown -with premature wrinkles. The cheek had lost its bloom, and was now thin -and sallow. In all this there was no deception. But even if this had not -been sufficient, he had but to look towards the bed, to realize how time -had passed. That thin, shrunken old man who lay there—was that his -father? No, there was no mistaking all this; these years of estrangement -were no vain imaginings; they were all too sad realities. - -And there, but a few steps from him, sat, with a look of hypocritical -sorrow, the man who had lent his best efforts to widen the breach, of -which he had been the cause, and throw up a permanent wall of separation -between the father and the son. He had changed least of the three. There -was the same plausible smile, the same crafty look about the eyes that -seldom met your gaze. There were no wrinkles to be seen on his brow. -Neither had his heart changed. It was as full of subtlety and evil -thoughts and plans as ever. - -Lewis Rand had changed least of the three, yet, of them all, he was -farthest removed from the freshness and simplicity of childhood, that -had never been his. He was one of those who seem never to have been -young. - -“Cousin Robert,” said Lewis, with an air of grave courtesy, “although -our grief is so fresh that all other thoughts seem intrusive, yet there -are certain things that must be thought of. It is right and proper that -you should participate with me in paying the last offices of respect and -affection to our lamented relative. You were nearer to him than I. It is -fitting that, from you, should proceed the orders relative to the -funeral.” - -“It is a right which I have no disposition to exercise. I would much -rather leave it entirely in your hands. My mind is not in a fit state to -enter upon such arrangements.” - -“You have stated my own case,” said Lewis, in a voice of -well-counterfeited emotion. “The death of my dear uncle, for whom I -cherished so deep an affection, and to whom I am indebted for so many -acts of kindness, weighs most heavily upon my heart. Nothing but an -imperative sense of duty would enable me to bear up under it. But I -will, if you desire it, so far overcome my grief, as to give the -necessary directions.” - -“I shall be glad to have you do so,” said Robert, briefly. There had -been a time when he would not have questioned his cousin’s sincerity, -but gratefully accepted his proffered sympathy,—when his own heart would -have been soothed by this companionship in grief. But the revelation of -his cousin’s perfidy had been too recent,—the memory of his wrongs was -too fresh. He might, in time, forgive, but he could not at once forget. -He did not look towards his cousin, but his eyes were fixed continually -upon the father from whom he had been separated for eighteen years,—from -whom the grave must soon separate him, till he too lay as still and -motionless as his father now lay, outstretched before him. - -Lewis was about to leave the room, when he paused, as if struck by a -sudden thought. - -“Pardon me,” he said, hesitatingly, “but this unhappy separation has -left us so much in ignorance of each other, that I am not informed -whether you have children.” - -“I have one daughter.” - -“And your wife?” - -“Is no longer living.” - -“Will you leave me your direction, that I may send a carriage?” - -“It will not be necessary. We will take a carriage from here.” - -“As you please. One thing more. Pardon me if I am wrong, for I know -nothing of your circumstances; you may require a sum of money to procure -proper mourning.” - -“It is needless,” said Robert, briefly. “We are sufficiently provided.” - -“Proud as ever!” muttered Lewis, to himself. “We’ll see how long that -continues. If I am not greatly mistaken, he will be glad enough to avail -himself of my offers before long.” - -Meanwhile, Helen had reached home, and was wondering what had detained -her father so long. He had gone out with Mr. Sharp, not mentioning where -he was going. - -She began to be afraid that, in one of his not unusual fits of -abstraction, he had met with some accident, perhaps been run over by -some passing vehicle, while crossing the street. - -“Where can he be?” she was asking, anxiously, for the tenth time at -least, when, to her great joy, she at length heard his familiar step -upon the stairs. - -She hastened to the door, exclaiming, “Why, papa, why have you been gone -so long?” - -She looked into his face, and suddenly stopped short. She saw, by his -expression, that something had happened. - -“What is the matter, papa?” she asked, apprehensively. - -“We have met with a great misfortune, Helen,” said Mr. Ford, gravely. - -“A great misfortune! Has your invention then failed?” - -“It is not that, Helen. Did you ever hear me speak of your grandfather?” - -“No.” - -“I will tell you the reason now. There had been a long and unhappy -alienation between us,—longer, I have since found, than there need to -have been, if we could only have met and had a mutual understanding. I -married against my father’s wishes. If he had once seen your mother, -Helen, he would, I am sure, have withdrawn all his opposition. As it -was, we separated eighteen years ago, and to-day we met for the last -time.” - -“But the misfortune, papa?” - -“We met at his death-bed, Helen; but, thank Heaven, not too late for a -full reconciliation. An hour since, your grandfather died, with his hand -clasped in mine. The funeral takes place day after to-morrow. We must -procure fitting dresses. I do not understand such things, but you can -consult with Martha.” - -Helen wished to learn more of her grandfather, of whom she now, for the -first time, heard; but she saw and respected her father’s grief, and -forebore to question him. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXI. - READING THE WILL. - - -Although the funeral of Mr. Rand was not largely attended,—for his -seclusion had prevented his making many acquaintances in the city,—no -expense was spared upon it. Lewis was determined that, so far as money -went, every respect should be paid to his uncle’s memory. Perhaps he -thought in this way to atone for the grievous wrong which he had done -him. To his cousin and Helen he was sedulously polite and even -deferential, so that those who could look no deeper than the surface -might well suppose him to be all that a kind and affectionate relation -ought to be. - -On the day succeeding the funeral the will was appointed to be read. - -“Of course you will be present, Robert,” said Lewis, “you and your -daughter. I need hardly say that I am entirely ignorant of the manner in -which my uncle had seen fit to dispose of his property. I have reason, -indeed, to think that he has made some small provision for me. But -whatever may be the purport of the will which is to be read to-morrow, I -pledge myself in advance to interpose no obstacle to its provisions.” - -Perhaps he expected a similar declaration from Robert, but his cousin -kept silence. - -The next morning at ten o’clock the will was read. A small company was -gathered in the library of the deceased. Lewis leaned his arm upon the -table by which he sat, with a downcast look but a throbbing heart. One -brief form more, and the object of his life would be attained. - -The document was not a long one. After the usual introduction, the -testator bequeathed all his property, real and personal, without -reserve, to his dear nephew, Lewis Rand, for whom he cherished a strong -affection. - -There was a slight flush upon the face of Robert Ford, or Robert Rand, -as we should now call him. It was not strange that he should display -some emotion at being thus publicly ignored, and his birthright -transferred to another. As he looked up, he thought he could detect a -momentary gleam of exultation in the face of Lewis. But it was -immediately repressed. - -The lawyer, who had previously been made acquainted with the fact that -Robert was a son of the deceased, looked surprised. - -“Was this expected?” he asked. “How shall we account for no mention -being made of your name,” addressing Robert, “as his son, and direct -heir? such an omission is extraordinary.” - -“My father,” said Robert, calmly, “was not aware of my existence. He had -not seen me for many years, and had been led to believe me dead. It was -only accidentally”—his glance rested for a moment on his cousin, who -strove to look unconcerned—“that I was enabled to discover his residence -in this city, and make myself known to him before he died.” - -He was proud enough to wish to keep concealed the long estrangement -between them, desiring to shield his father’s memory from any reproach -which this omission might be thought to cast upon it. - -“My cousin is quite right,” said Lewis. “His father and myself believed, -on what we supposed to be reliable evidence, that he died some years -since in Chicago. It is a source of regret to me that our mistake was -discovered at so late a period, when in consequence of the near approach -of death, it was impossible for my uncle to make any change in the -disposition of his estate.” - -The lawyer who, without having any definite grounds of suspicion, -distrusted Lewis and his smooth professions, answered, coldly, “Your -regret will no doubt be considerably lessened when you reflect that the -property which you acknowledge has come to you by mistake, is at your -absolute disposal, and that it is therefore in your power to remedy this -unintended wrong.” - -The sallow face of Lewis flushed beneath the penetrating gaze of the -lawyer, who, he saw, suspected the real nature which he kept concealed -beneath a flimsy veil of deception and hypocrisy. - -But he was prepared even for this emergency. - -“That is true,” he said, “and although my reverence for the expressed -wishes of the deceased will not permit me to interfere materially with -the disposition which he has made, I shall take care that my cousin is -provided for. Robert, if you will do me the favor to remain after this -form is over, I shall be glad to explain what I propose to do.” - -Lewis had been thinking of this contingency. He saw that it would be -absolutely necessary to make some provision for his cousin, as well to -quiet the world’s censure as more effectually to ward off suspicion from -himself. - -In the western part of Pennsylvania there was a small farm, worth, with -the buildings upon it, three or four thousand dollars. This was but an -insignificant item in the list of Mr. Rand’s possessions. It was this -farm that Lewis proposed bestowing upon his cousin. It would, he -thought, be a cheap way of securing his acquiescence in the provisions -of the will, and remove him to an obscure neighborhood, where he would -have little power of doing him harm. - -When all, save Helen and her father, had departed, Lewis turned to his -cousin, and after repeating, at some length, his expressions of regret -that his uncle had not been spared to make a change in the disposition -of his property, concluded by tendering him, as a free gift, the farm in -question, together with two hundred dollars in money, which he judged -would be sufficient to convey them hither, and pay any little debts -which they might have incurred. - -Robert listened in surprise to this disgraceful proposition. He was not -a practical man, and in business matters he was very liable to be -deceived. But he knew sufficient of the extent of his father’s wealth to -divine, that the pittance which his cousin offered was less than the -hundredth part of the entire estate. - -Knowing this, his pride rose in indignant rebellion at this insult. - -“Do you think, Lewis,” he said, scornfully, “that if my father had lived -long enough to change his will according to the desire which you have -several times seen fit to express, that _this_ is the provision which he -would have made for me?” - -“If you do not consider it sufficient,” said Lewis, evasively, “I will -say a thousand dollars, in addition to the farm. That will enable you to -stock it amply, and live quite independently.” - -“You are generous,” said Robert, with sarcasm, for his spirit was now -fully roused; “but think not that I will become a pensioner upon your -bounty. One tenth part even of the pittance which you offer me, if it -came from my father, I would gratefully accept. But for you, who bestow -your alms upon me as if I were a beggar, instead of the son of the man -from whom all your wealth is wrongfully derived, I scorn your gift, and -reject it.” - -“You are hasty, and may regret your decision. Think of your -daughter,—would you leave her penniless?” - -“Let her decide that question. Helen, shall we accept what this man -offers, or shall we preserve our humble independence, as we have done -heretofore?” - -“So long as I have you, papa, it is enough. God will take care of us.” - -“You hear her answer, Lewis Rand. I have but one thing to say to you -before we part,—it may be for the last time upon earth. I am not -ignorant of the arts by which you have brought about and kept up the -estrangement between my father and myself; how many overtures towards -reconciliation on either side have been defeated through your -machinations; how carefully you have kept alive in my father’s heart the -belief that I was dead, though you knew it to be false. By such means -you have compassed your object. I do not envy you your reward. Far less -will I be indebted to you for a miserable pittance of that wealth which -you have wrested from me by a systematic course of treachery and deceit. -Come, Helen, let us go.” - -Lewis Rand turned red and white by turns during this unexpected address, -which satisfied him that Mr. Sharp had proved faithless to his trust. -But flushed as he was with success, he could afford to disregard it all -now. - -“Do as you please,” he said, coldly. “At any rate, you cannot deny that -I have made the offer. You may, some day, regret not having accepted -it.” - -“Never!” said his cousin, vehemently. - -“Very well; that is your affair. In reference to the grave charges which -you have seen fit to bring against my character, I have only to say, -that I defy you to prove them. Farewell! I would have been your friend. -Since you would have me for your enemy, so let it be.” - -“I care as little for the one as for the other,” said Robert, proudly. - -So saying, he held out his hand to Helen, and together they left the -stately dwelling, with its costly furniture and appointments, and took -their way slowly to their humble lodging, with its bare floor and hard -wooden chairs, contrasting, in its plainness, so vividly with the -dwelling they had left. There was another difference. The one was dark -and gloomy in spite of its luxury. Here the warm and cheerful sunshine -entered in at the open window, and flung its radiance all over the room. - -Helen breathed a sigh of relief as she entered. - -“Oh, how much pleasanter it is here,” she said, “than in that great -gloomy house!” - -And she began preparing supper with unwonted lightness of heart, as if a -sudden weight had been removed from her spirit. - -“I am well rid of him,” muttered Lewis, as his cousin left the room. “He -really has more spirit than I suspected. As for that Sharp, he has -served me a scurvy trick, but he has overshot his mark this time. I can -fancy his disappointment when he discovers that Robert is still a -beggar.” - -Lewis laughed sardonically, and gave himself up to the intoxicating -dream of power which his wealth would give him. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXII. - MARGARET’S SECOND FLIGHT. - - -Margaret lay sick for many weeks in her mother’s cottage, where, it will -be remembered, she took refuge when, maddened by the discovery of -Jacob’s falsehood, she fled from him, heedless of the fury of the -elements. Physical exhaustion and mental excitement brought on a raging -fever, attended by almost constant delirium. Her mother watched by her -bedside with an affection that never tired. For a time it was doubtful -what would be the issue. Margaret’s life trembled in the balance, and it -required but little to incline it either way. Fortunately for Margaret, -however, her constitution was naturally a strong one, and its native -vigor triumphed at length over the assaults of disease, fierce though -they had been. The fever spent its force, and she became rapidly better, -though at first scarcely stronger than an infant. - -The first indication of her amendment was her recognition of her mother. - -The old lady was sitting in a rocking-chair beside the bed, when -Margaret lifted her head from the pillow, and said, in a tone of -curiosity,— - -“Who are you?” - -“Who am I?” inquired her mother. “Don’t you know me, Margaret?” - -“You look some like my mother. Are you?” - -“Yes, Margaret, I am your own mother, who loves you.” - -“I believe you are. How long have I been sick, mother?” - -“It is—let me see,” said the old lady, reflectively. “It must be six -weeks. Yes, it will be six to-morrow.” - -“And for six weeks I have been confined to this room and this bed?” - -“Yes, my child.” - -“Do not call me child, mother. All the beauty and bloom of childhood, -all its happy hopes and trustful spirit, have gone forever. There are -some who are children all their lives. But I—it seems a great while -since I was a child.” - -The simple old lady did not comprehend her daughter’s meaning. She -understood her words literally. - -“Why, you are young yet, Margaret.” - -“Young! don’t call me young, mother. I am older than you.” - -“Older than I?” said the old lady, who fancied Margaret’s brain a little -disordered, and sought to restore it by reasoning; “but you know a child -cannot be older than its mother. You are but thirty-seven, while I am -seventy.” - -“I don’t mean older in years, mother. Older in suffering, older in the -experience of life. It isn’t years that make us old, mother, but our own -passions.” - -This was uttered half in soliloquy. - -“I am afraid you will hurt yourself by talking, Margaret. You had better -go to sleep; or would you like some gruel?” - -“No, mother.” - -There was silence for a few minutes. During this time Margaret was -scanning attentively the little room and its furniture. Nothing could be -plainer, and yet more comfortable. There was a rag carpet on the floor, -and a few plain articles of furniture scattered about the room; there -was a small clock on the mantel, whose drowsy ticking could be -distinctly heard, so free was the neighborhood from noises of every -description. It was such a retreat as the old would like for its quiet, -while they would not be troubled by its monotony and lack of excitement. -But Margaret was too impetuous and excitable to feel it otherwise than -oppressive. - -“How long have you lived here, mother?” she asked abruptly, after a -silence of some minutes. - -“Seven years, Margaret; seven years come fall.” - -“Seven years! seven years, mother! I should think you would have died of -solitude long ago. You haven’t any neighbors, have you?” - -“None very near. None that I go to see. I do not care to visit. Tabby, -here, is company for me. Ain’t you, Tabby?” - -The large cat, that was lying at the other end of the room, rose at this -appeal, and after stretching herself in a way to show her extraordinary -size, walked slowly across the room, and submitted herself, with an -appearance of pleasure, to the old lady’s caresses. - -“See, Margaret; she answers for herself,” as the cat, in recognition of -the attention shown her, purred loudly. - -“I don’t know but you are right in choosing such a friend,” said -Margaret, after a thoughtful pause. “She will treat you well as long as -you do not abuse her. That cannot be said of all human friends. Yet I -should not be able to live six months as you do, mother. My temperament -needs excitement.” - -“I fear it has not always brought you good, Margaret,” said the old -lady, who could ill comprehend the turbulent spirit which her daughter -inherited from a father of mixed French and Irish blood. - -One afternoon a week later, Margaret, after turning restlessly for some -minutes, asked her mother if she had not a newspaper in the house. - -“I get tired looking at the cat,” she exclaimed; “I want something else -to think of.” - -“I don’t know,” said the old lady, hesitatingly. “I don’t take a paper; -but perhaps I can find one that came round a bundle, if that will do.” - -“Yes, mother, anything. It don’t matter what.” - -After diligent search, the old lady managed to discover part of a last -week’s daily paper that had come round a package which she had recently -bought. Apologizing for the unsatisfactory result of her search, she -placed it in Margaret’s hand. - -In general, there is nothing very interesting in an old daily paper; but -Margaret, who had been shut out from the world for nearly two months, -and knew nothing of what had transpired during that time, seized the -fragment with avidity, and read it entire, even to the advertisements. -Finally her glance wandered to the deaths; she started as she met the -name of Rand. - - DIED. At his residence in Fifth Avenue, GERALD RAND, Esq., 71. - -“He’s dead, then, at last,” she murmured, “and Jacob Wynne has got the -thousand dollars which were promised him. Let him enjoy it while he may. -It will not be long, unless,—but I must see him before I take any -decisive step. He may have said what he did only to provoke me. Would to -heaven it were so! Yes, I must see him; I must give him one more chance, -and then, if he still scorns me,” this she said with fierce emphasis, -“let him look to himself.” - -“What have you read that excites you so much, Margaret?” questioned her -mother, anxiously. - -“Nothing particular.” - -“You frightened me when you spoke so fiercely.” - -“Did I?” said Margaret. “I was only talking to myself. It’s a way I -have. But, mother,” she continued, changing her tone suddenly, “do you -think I shall be well enough to go out to-morrow?” - -“To-morrow!” repeated the old lady, lifting up both hands in extreme -astonishment; “why, you must be raving crazy to think of such a thing! -What in the world do you want to go out for?” - -“Never mind now,” said her daughter, evasively. “I thought I should like -to go out. But I suppose I am weaker than I think for.” - -“Why, the fever has only just left you. It would be death to think of -leaving the house.” - -“We won’t say anything more about it, mother. Only I get tired of -staying in the same place so long. The time moves so slowly. What time -is it?” - -“Three o’clock.” - -“It has been three for the last hour,” said Margaret, with a touch of -impatience in her tone. - -“I declare the clock has stopped,” said the old lady, adjusting her -spectacles; “I must have forgotten to wind it up. I declare it’s most -time to get tea.” - -She filled the tea-kettle, and set it over the fire, Margaret looking on -with languid attention. - -Her mother thought that Margaret had given up the idea of leaving the -house. It was only an invalid’s fancy, she thought. But Margaret had a -purpose in view, and only deferred carrying it out till her weakness had -somewhat abated. On the third day, though still far from strong, she -determined to leave the house. Knowing that her mother would never -consent, she devised a stratagem to get her out of the way. - -“Is there an orange in the house?” she asked, immediately after -breakfast. - -“No, Margaret.” - -“I am sorry; I think I could relish one.” - -“I can get one at the store.” - -“But that is a good ways off. Isn’t it, mother?” - -“Only quarter of a mile.” - -“It is too far for you to go.” - -“Too far? I go there several times a week, Margaret.” - -“Then if it will not be too much trouble, I should really like to have -you go.” - -“I will go immediately. Isn’t there anything else you would like?” - -“Nothing, mother.” - -“God forgive me for deceiving her!” thought Margaret. “But I cannot do -otherwise. He knows that.” - -Scarcely was her mother out of the house than Margaret hastily rose from -the bed, and with trembling fingers arrayed herself in the garments -which had been so long laid aside. They had been carefully washed and -mended by her mother, so that they looked comparatively respectable. She -threw them on very hastily, fearing that her mother would return and -detect her. She saw half a dollar on the mantel. This also she took, -knowing that she should need money, and left the house. - -When her mother returned with the orange she found, to her dismay, that -her daughter had disappeared. On the table there was a scrap of paper, -with these words traced hurriedly upon it:— - - “Forgive the artifice I have employed, dear mother. I knew you - would not let me go, and I must. There is something of great - importance that I must attend to without delay. When that is over, - I may come back to you. - - “MARGARET. - - “P. S. I took a half dollar from the mantel, as I may need it.” - - - - - CHAPTER XXXIII. - THE GOOD SAMARITAN. - - -Surprised and terrified at her daughter’s disappearance, the old lady -went to the door and, shading her eyes, looked anxiously up the road, -but with her failing eyesight she was unable to catch sight of the -fugitive. - -“The child must be crazy,” she said to herself. “She’ll catch her death -of cold, going out so soon after the fever. I must go after her and -bring her back.” - -Putting on her hood once more, the old lady went out, and took the road -towards the city. But she did not find her daughter. Returning with a -heavy heart and a sense of deep perplexity she sat down to her knitting, -first carefully putting away the orange, which she thought Margaret -might like to eat if, as she hoped, she should discover her weakness and -return home at night. - -But Margaret did not come that night, nor yet again the next. - -When she left her mother’s house she hurried forward at a greater speed -than her strength admitted, so great was her anxiety to elude pursuit. -She had not gone half a mile when she found her strength failing her. -Quite exhausted, she staggered to a flat stone by the side of the road, -and sat down. - -“Mother was right,” she said to herself; “I am not strong enough for -this journey; but I must get on somehow now that I have started.” - -At this moment her eye rested on the half dollar which she had taken, -and which she still held in her hand. - -“Perhaps this will procure me a ride,” she thought. “What matter if I am -penniless afterwards. I only care to live long enough to be revenged.” - -She looked back on the road she had travelled, hoping to see some wagon -which might serve her purpose. - -A little distance off was a covered market wagon, advancing at a good -round pace. The driver was a stout, pleasant-looking man, and Margaret, -hurriedly scanning his features, judged that she might venture to accost -him. - -She accordingly rose from the stone on which she had been sitting, and -made a gesture for him to stop. - -Somewhat surprised, he called out: “Hold up, Dick! Now, ma’am, what can -I do for you?” - -“Would you be willing to take a passenger to New York?” - -“Yes, ma’am, just as lieves as not.” - -“I am quite willing to pay you. Will that be enough?” asked Margaret, -offering the half dollar. - -“Yes, ma’am; enough, and fifty cents too much. Your company will be pay -enough. But, hold on a minute; I’ll jump out and help you in.” - -“Thank you; I have been sick, and am not so strong as usual, otherwise I -would not trouble you.” - -“No trouble at all. You look as if you’d been sick,—kinder peaked, just -as my Sarah Jane looked after she’d had the fever. Ain’t it rather -imprudent for you to be out?” - -“Perhaps it is; but I have something to do which cannot be delayed.” - -The driver seemed disposed to be social and communicative. - -“I’d orter be pretty well used to this road; I’ve come on it twice a -week for the last fifteen years.” - -“Have you?” said Margaret, listlessly. - -“Yes, marketing. That’s my business. I’ve got a regular run of -customers, you see, and they’ve got used to me, and know I’ll never -bring anything but what’s good. There’s Judge Harcouth now; may be you -to know the judge?” - -“No.” - -“His wife won’t never buy no sausages except what I bring. Well, mine -are pretty good, if I do say it. I get old Marm Brown to make ‘em, and -she’d orter know how, for she’s been in the business for forty years. Do -you like sausages?” - -“I don’t know,” said Margaret, who had not heard a word that was said. - -“Don’t know,” repeated the driver, staring at her in surprise. - -“Excuse me; I didn’t hear what you said.” - -“I asked if you liked sausages. Some folks have a prejudice agin ‘em.” - -“Yes, pretty well.” - -“I like to have company,” continued the driver; “like to have somebody -to talk to. Talkin’s natural to the family. My mother had a pretty long -tongue, and used to use it most all the time, so that none of the rest -of us could get in a word edgeways.” - -Apparently, the mother’s gift had descended to the son, for he kept up a -constant stream of talk, which was fortunate for Margaret, for he -expected little in the way of response, and so was less likely to notice -her abstraction. - -“Last week I brought my oldest boy, Hamlet, with me. Queer name, isn’t?” - -“No.” - -“Why, ‘taint very common,” said the driver, a little surprised at this -negative. - -“That is what I mean,” said Margaret, hurriedly. - -“I s’pose you wonder what made me give him such a name, but the fact is -my own name is pretty common. You may have heard of John Smith?” - -“I think I have heard the name,” said Margaret, absently. - -Her grave manner was thought to conceal something jocose by Mr. Smith, -who laughed heartily, ejaculating “Good, by jingo!” somewhat to -Margaret’s surprise. - -“That’s why,” he resumed, “I thought I’d give my children at least one -name that wasn’t common, so I concluded to ask the schoolmaster for -some. He told me I’d find what I wanted in Shakespeare, so I bought a -copy second hand, and the very fust name I come across was Hamlet. So I -gave that name to my oldest boy. My second boy’s name is Othello—the -boys call him Old Fellow; pretty good joke, isn’t it? I didn’t know till -afterwards that it was the name of a nigger, or I shouldn’t have taken -it. However, it sounds pretty well; think so?” - -“Yes.” - -“Then I’ve got two girls, I call them Desdemony and Parsley, and the -baby we haven’t decided about, but I reckon we shall call him Falstaff. -Falstaff was a good-natured old fellow as fur as I’ve read about him. -But I don’t know as you’re interested about these matters.” - -“Oh, yes,” said Margaret, looking straight before her in the direction -of the city, whose spires were now discernible. - -“Got any children of your own, ma’am?” - -“No.” - -“I calculate you’re married?” - -“Yes—no,” said Margaret, agitated, for the question opened her wound -afresh. - -“Queer customer, I calc’late,” thought Mr. Smith. “Don’t seem to know -whether she’s married or not. May be she’s been divorced.” - -“Excuse me,” said Margaret, feeling it necessary to say something. “I -believe I am not strong enough to talk much.” - -“Oh well, I’ll do all the talkin’,” said the driver, good-naturedly. -“You don’t look very rugged, that’s a fact. Ever tried Dr. Bangs’s -Bitters?” - -“No.” - -“Well, my wife thinks a sight of ‘em; says they go right to the weak -spot. Better buy some when you get a good chance.” - -So Mr. Smith ran on, satisfied with an occasional response from -Margaret, till they reached the paved streets where the noise was too -great to admit of being easily heard. - -“Where do you want to get out?” shouted Mr. Smith. “I’ll pull up -whenever you say so.” - -When they reached the central part of the city, Margaret gave the -signal, and Mr. Smith assisted her out. - -“You had better let me pay you,” she said. - -“No, no, you’re perfectly welcome. I like company. It sort of shortens -the way. Just hail me again whenever you’re going my way, and I’ll give -you a lift and welcome.” - -“Thank you; you are very kind.” - -Margaret mechanically took the first street that led into Broadway. She -felt more at home in a crowd, and scarcely knowing where she was going, -walked slowly along the sidewalk, jostled on this side and on that, but -apparently without heeding it. - -At length her attention was attracted. - -On the opposite side of the street a couple were walking slowly, -chatting in a lively way as they walked. The lady was gayly dressed, and -was evidently pleased with the attentions of her companion. He is an old -acquaintance, Jacob Wynne, the scrivener, but no more resembling his -former self than a butterfly the chrysalis from which it emerged. Lewis -Rand had paid him the thousand dollars agreed upon, and he had -patronized the tailor extensively in consequence. He was now fashionably -attired, and had the air of one on whom fortune smiles. - -It was only by chance that Margaret’s attention was drawn to him. - -When she recognized him, all at once her heart sank within her. In her -enfeebled state the shock was too great. She sank upon a step half -fainting. - -It was the step of a fashionable store, and she was directly in the way -of those entering. - -“Come, be off,” said a clerk, rudely; “we can’t have any vagabonds -here.” - -Margaret’s look of weakness and helpless misery, as she tried to rise, -attracted the attention of a young girl who was passing. It was Helen -Ford, just returning from rehearsal at the theatre. - -“Are you sick?” she asked, in a tone of sympathy. - -“I am afraid I am,” said Margaret, faintly. - -“Where is your home? Let me lead you to it.” - -“My home!” repeated Margaret. “I have none.” - -“No home!” said Helen, in a tone of compassion. “Then where do you -expect to sleep to-night?” - -“Heaven only knows.” - -“If you will come with me, I will take care of you to-night,” said -Helen. “You are too sick to be out.” - -“Will you, indeed, be so kind?” said Margaret, gratefully. - -“I shall be glad to help you. Now lean on my arm. Don’t be afraid; I am -strong.” - -Margaret rose, and with tottering step accompanied Helen to the -boarding-house. She led her up stairs to Martha Grey’s apartment. - -Quickly communicating to Martha where and under what circumstances she -had found her, she asked the seamstress if she would be willing to allow -her to remain with her. Martha readily entered into Helen’s charitable -views, and together they strove to make their unexpected visitor -comfortable. - -Helen little suspected that the woman whom in her compassion she had -succored, had it in her power to restore to her father the estate of -which he had been defrauded. Sometimes even in this world the good -Samaritan receives his reward. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXIV. - JACOB SEALS HIS FATE. - - -“How do you feel this morning?” asked Helen, as she entered Martha’s -room. - -Her question was addressed to Margaret, who, wan and pale, was seated at -a table eating some toast, which the compassionate seamstress in her -kindness had prepared for her. - -“I am much better,” said Margaret, though her appearance did not bear -out the assertion. - -“It will take some time yet for you to recover fully; you need rest and -freedom from care.” - -“Freedom from care!” repeated Margaret, smiling bitterly. “Yes, that is -what I need, but where shall I find it?” - -“With us,” answered Martha, gently. - -“What!” exclaimed Margaret, fixing her eyes upon the seamstress in -surprise, “would you be burdened with me?” - -“We shall not consider it a burden,” said Helen, “and I am sure we ought -to welcome an opportunity to be of service to any one of our -fellow-creatures.” - -“Yet,” said Margaret, suffering her eyes to wander about the room, with -its plain and scanty furniture, “you cannot be rich—even one person -must——” - -“No, we are far from rich,” said Helen, divining what she would have -said, “but neither are we very poor. I am paid quite a large salary for -singing, and—and you must not think of the expense.” - -“But I am a stranger to you,” said Margaret; “why are you so kind to -me?” - -“Because you are in trouble.” - -“Perhaps I may make an ungrateful return. Suppose I should take the -opportunity to rob you?” - -Helen laughed merrily. - -“We are not afraid,” she said; “besides, I think you would be puzzled to -find anything worth taking.” - -Margaret smiled faintly. - -“I see you are not suspicious; I envy you that. There was a time when I -was as trustful, and as firm a believer in human goodness as you are. -But that time has passed, never to return.” - -“I am afraid,” said Martha, “that your experience has not been an -agreeable one.” - -“I have seen trouble,” said Margaret, briefly. - -“There may be better times in store; I shall know soon.” - -“Let us hope there will be,” said Martha, cheerfully. - -“Amen!” said Margaret. - -“I must go to rehearsal now,” said Helen. “When I return, I will call -in.” - -“What is her name?” questioned Margaret, abruptly, as the door closed -upon Helen. - -“Helen.” - -“I mean the last name.” - -“Her father goes by the name of Ford, but Helen has told me within a day -or two that his real name is Rand.” - -“Rand!” repeated Margaret, starting in surprise. - -“Yes.” - -She remembered that this was the name which had been so many times -repeated on the paper which her husband had employed in trying his pen. - -“Do you know anything of the name!” asked Martha, observing that her -companion seemed struck by it. - -“I have heard of a man by the name—a rich man.” - -“Probably Helen’s grandfather.” - -“How comes it, then, that she is living here.” - -“Some family estrangement. Her grandfather supposed until nearly the -last moment of his life that his son was dead. It was too late to alter -his will, and so Helen and her father are left penniless.” - -“And who inherited the property then?” demanded Margaret, eagerly. - -“A cousin of Mr. Ford’s—I mean of Mr. Rand’s.” - -“And I know by what means he acquired it,” thought Margaret. “It may be -that—but I must see Jacob first.” - -From this moment Margaret became restless. She felt that she could not -be at peace till the issue was decided. She determined once more to -appeal to Jacob, and ascertain beyond a doubt whether the statement -which he had made respecting their marriage was really true, or only -fabricated to vex her. This question must first be decided, and then—why -then she would be guided by circumstances. - -She rose from her seat, and threw her shawl over her shoulders. - -“Where are you going?” asked Martha, pausing in her work. - -“I must go. I have something to do which cannot be delayed.” - -“But are you able to go out?” questioned the seamstress. - -“Perhaps not; but it would do me more harm to remain here, feeling that -I ought to be elsewhere, that things might go wrong without me, than the -exposure and exertion of going out.” - -“You will come back here when you have accomplished what you desire?” - -“I think so—I cannot tell—I will not promise,” returned Margaret, with -an air of indecision; “but at any rate, whether I come or not, I thank -you heartily for all your kindness to me, and for all that you have -offered to do for me. I am not so used to kindness that I can afford to -think little of it.” - -“I am afraid it will be too much for her,” thought Martha, as Margaret -left the room with an unsteady step. “There is plainly some mysterious -sorrow which is preying upon her mind. If I could find out what it is, I -would try to comfort her.” - -Margaret, on reaching the street got into an omnibus which set her down -at the corner of the street on which Jacob Wynne lived. - -We will precede her. - -The scrivener is seated at a small table. Before him are several small -piles of gold which he is counting out from a larger one before him. It -is the money which Lewis Rand paid him for his complicity in the -iniquitous scheme, the success of which has robbed Helen and her father -of a princely inheritance. - -Jacob’s eyes sparkled as they rested on the glittering coins before him, -and in his heart, as in that of his employer on the day of his uncle’s -death, there springs up the exulting thought: “And all this is mine.” - -But while he is thus engaged, there is a footfall on the stairs, the -step of one ascending slowly and with effort, but Jacob is too much -absorbed in his pleasing employment to heed or hear it. - -A moment afterwards, and through the half-open door a woman’s face is -seen peering. Margaret’s face is thin and pale, the result of her recent -exhausting illness, and there is a look of weariness besides, induced by -the too great exertion of walking in her weakened state; but her eyes -are painfully bright, and her expression pale, thin, and weary as she -is, is one of stern determination. - -“Seven hundred!” said Jacob, as he completed the seventh pile, and -commenced another, unconscious of the eyes that were fixed upon him. - -Margaret paused a moment on the threshold. She saw before her a man who, -low and mean and ignoble as he was, had won her heart in the days of her -youthful freshness, and now in spite of the resentment which she felt at -his unworthy treatment, she could not look upon him without a -pang,—without a longing to become to him once more what she had been. - -“Jacob!” she uttered in an uncertain voice. - -Jacob Wynne turned round with a guilty start as though he had been -detected in some knavery, and half unconsciously drew his sleeve over -the pile of gold, as if to screen it from observation. When he saw who -it was that had so startled him, a frown gathered upon his face, and he -said, impatiently,— - -“You here, Margaret?” - -“You seem glad to see me after my long absence!” she said. “By your -leave I will take a seat, as I am somewhat tired.” - -He looked uneasily at her, not feeling altogether certain of her purpose -in calling, and muttered, half to himself, “I wish you had waited till -next week.” - -“Why should you wish that?” she asked, catching his words. - -“Because I shall then be gone,” he said, coldly. - -“Gone! Where?” - -“Never mind! Why should you want to know?” he demanded, sulkily. - -“Why, indeed?” echoed she, fixing her eyes upon his face; “what should -your motives be to me, who have only devoted ten years of my life to -your service? What should you be to me, Jacob Wynne?” - -“Well,” he said. “I will no longer require such a sacrifice at your -hands. Ten years are quite enough to satisfy me. Henceforth you shall be -at perfect liberty to devote yourself to whom you will. I will promise -not to interfere.” - -Margaret pressed her hand upon her heart as if to still its tumultuous -throbbing, at this cruel taunt from one whom she had so much loved, and -for whom, despite the discovery she had made of his baseness and -unworthiness, she could not altogether stifle the old affection. - -“You say this because you are irritated, Jacob,” she returned. “You do -not, you cannot mean it. Tell me so. Tell me that you have been only -trying me all this time, and though it has made me very, very wretched, -although it has thrown me into a fever and rendered me as weak as you -now see me, I will forget it all, and will once more devote myself to -you with the same loving devotion as in the old times when we were -young, and—and happier than we are now, Jacob.” - -In her earnestness she rose, and going towards the copyist, placed her -hand upon his arm. - -“One often says in anger what he does not mean,” she continued, rapidly. -“I know that well. I have done so myself; and it is so with you, Jacob, -is it not? I knew it must be so when you spoke such cruel words to me at -the island so many weeks ago, and yet, Jacob, and yet it hurt me,” she -placed her hand upon her heart; “it hurt me here, when you said such -words even in jest. I was not strong enough to bear them, and they made -me sick. That very night I was attacked with a fever, and from that day -to this I have been stretched upon a sick-bed. Look at my face. See how -thin and pale it is. I ought not to be out to-day, and only succeeded by -an artifice in eluding the vigilance of my mother, who has been my -faithful nurse.” - -“Why, then, did you come?” asked Jacob, coldly. - -“Because I could not bear the intolerable weight of suspense. Those -words kept ringing in my ears, and I could not cease from anxiety until -I could see you and have them explained.” - -Margaret looked imploringly in the face of the scrivener, as she -finished her appeal. She had spoken more confidently than she felt. -There was little in the sullen, cruel face before her to give her -encouragement. She felt that she had staked all her happiness upon a -single throw,—that the answer which he gave her then and there would -determine once and forever her future happiness or misery, and it might -be his. - -Jacob regarded the anxious face before him with the triumph that a low -mind always feels when it has by any means gained an ascendency over a -stronger one. The nature of Margaret was superior to his, and he knew -it. It was the uneasy feeling of inferiority produced by this -circumstance, that led to a mean jealousy on his part which found its -gratification in any humiliation to which it was in his power to subject -her. - -“I do not understand,” he said, deliberately, “why my words should stand -in need of explanation. I endeavored to make them sufficiently -intelligible.” - -“You do not remember what you said, Jacob. I am sure that you cannot, or -you would not speak thus,” she said, earnestly. - -“Perhaps your memory is better,” said the scrivener, sneeringly. -“Possibly you will do me the favor to repeat it.” - -“Repeat it!” - -“Yes, I said so,” triumphing as he spoke over her evident distress; -“come, I am listening.” - -He drew his chair round so as to face Margaret, and fixed his eyes -cruelly upon her. Margaret was a creature of impulse. Hers was no calm, -equable temperament. Her features could express trustful, confiding -affection, or the intensity of scorn and hatred. She had come to make a -last appeal to Jacob Wynne. He did not deserve it, but it is hard for a -woman to resolve to injure a man who has been to her an object of -affection. Jacob had often treated her with harshness. This she could -bear, but the revelation of his perfidy, which she had heard from his -own lips at Staten Island, came upon her with the force of a sudden -blow, which at once prostrated her. This was an insult which she could -not forgive, if his words were indeed true. In the hope, slight as it -was, that it might prove to have been merely an outburst of Jacob’s -irritability, she had determined upon this interview that her doubts -might be set at rest. Had Jacob known the purpose which was in her -heart, and the precise character of the motive which had brought her to -him, he would have been more cautious in exasperating a woman who had -his ruin in her power. This, however, he did not know. He underrated -Margaret’s strength of mind; he regarded her as one whom he might -ill-treat with impunity, who might annoy him, to be sure, but was -incapable of doing him any serious injury; whom he could shake off at -any time, as he had resolved to do now. - -When Margaret saw the triumphant smile upon his face, she felt that her -worst fears were likely to be realized. Still she resolved not to forego -her purpose. Dropping the pleading tone which she had hitherto employed, -she said, with an outward calmness which surprised Jacob, and which she -only assumed by a determined effort,— - -“Be it so. Since you desire it, I will force myself to repeat those -words. You remember, Jacob, the occasion of my presenting myself before -you. Without my knowledge you had invited a young woman to accompany you -to Staten Island.” - -“And did you think I was responsible to you? Would you have had me ask -your gracious permission?” asked Jacob, with a sneer. - -“You can tell best,” said Margaret, steadily, “whether this excursion -was made accidentally or purposely, without my knowledge; if the latter, -it betrayed a consciousness on your part that I had a right to object.” - -“But I told you——” - -“Wait,” said Margaret, commandingly, “I will come to that by and by. I -learned your plan, it matters not in what manner, and followed you; I -marked your devoted attentions to your companion, and it deepened in me -the sense of wrong and neglect which I had noticed for a long time. You -believed me safe at home all this time.” - -“I wish to heaven you had been,” muttered Jacob. - -Unheeding the interruption, Margaret continued,— - -“You will not be surprised that this should have excited some uneasiness -on my part. I followed you constantly, watching for an opportunity to -speak to you alone. At length you left your companion for a brief -period, and then I found the opportunity I had been seeking. I ventured -to expostulate with you on conduct which I considered inconsistent with -your duty as a husband. Then it was, Jacob, that in your anger, you told -me that I, who had lived with you for ten years as your wife, and had -never for a moment forfeited or doubted my full claim to the title, that -I was mistaken; that at the altar an infamous deception had been -practised upon me, and the office of the clergyman was usurped by one of -your own unprincipled associates, who had no legal right to perform the -marriage ceremony. Have I represented all this correctly?” - -“You have a most accurate memory,” said Jacob. “I have no exceptions to -take to your account, except on the score of its length, and the use of -certain adjectives.” - -“Then I am to understand that this _was_ no fabrication on your part, -Jacob Wynne, but the plain truth?” - -“Most unquestionably.” - -“You further gave me to understand,” continued Margaret, in the same -strangely calm tone, “and to-day you have repeated the intimation, that -my company is unwelcome; in short, that you are weary of my society, and -wish to be rid of me.” - -“You would have made a capital judge, madam,” said Jacob; “you are -admirable at summing up. You express my meaning better than I could do -it myself. I congratulate you the possession of such a talent. It will -save me further trouble. Have you anything more to say?” - -Jacob expected that Margaret would burst into a passion of tears and -reproaches, as she had done before, and he was already gloating over her -distress in anticipation. Already with cowardly malignity, he was -coining in his brain some new and clever taunts with which he might add -to her distress, and touch her to the quick. It was, therefore, with -some degree of disappointment as well as surprise, that he was able to -detect no change in her calm expression. - -“Very well,” she said, “I wished this matter understood between us.” - -Then, seeming to notice for the first time the gold upon the table, she -added, indicating it with her finger, “Your affairs appear to be in a -more flourishing condition than when I saw you last.” - -“Eh! What?” said Jacob, changing color and looking embarrassed. - -“You are richer than you were,” said Margaret, in the same tone. “It -must have been an important service which has been so liberally -rewarded.” - -“What do you mean?” demanded Jacob, with the apprehension of guilt, -regarding her uneasily. - -“Mean!” repeated Margaret, as if surprised at the question, “what should -I mean? I merely expressed my surprise at your having so large a sum by -you. I should judge,” she continued, carelessly, “that there might be a -thousand dollars there.” - -Jacob’s agitation increased with every word that Margaret uttered. -Conscious that he had committed a crime which made him liable to severe -legal penalties, the significant words of the woman he had wronged -excited in his mind a fear that, in some manner unknown to him, she had -become cognizant of it. - -So does “Conscience make cowards of us all.” - -How much more so in the case of the scrivener, who was cowardly at the -best. - -“I must insist upon knowing what you mean by these insinuations,” he -said, with ill-concealed anxiety. - -“Insinuations, Jacob Wynne! What have I insinuated?” - -“Why, then, do you speak in this manner?” said he, hesitatingly; “this -money—belongs to a friend.” - -“Indeed!” said Margaret, looking at him steadily; “and I suppose you -merely offered to count it over for him.” - -“Well, and if I did,” said the scrivener, plucking up a little courage; -“have you any objections to offer?” - -“I! What objection could I possibly have? You know I have no longer a -right to object to anything which you may see fit to do. By the way, you -spoke of removing. When do you go?” - -This cool self-possession and absence of emotion on Margaret’s part -puzzled Jacob, and alarmed him more than threats of vengeance would have -done. He found it impossible to understand her. - -“I don’t know,” he said, evasively, “I can’t tell. Why do you ask?” - -“Because,” she answered, with a meaning look, “I may wish to call upon -you again. There is nothing strange in my desiring occasionally to call -upon an old acquaintance; is there, Jacob?” - -He muttered something which was inaudible. - -“But I fear I am taking up too much of your time. You know I have no -further claim upon you. Farewell, Jacob, I shall not lose sight of you.” - -“Stay,” said Jacob, who had been considerably alarmed, and who was still -apprehensive that she might know more than he desired, “have you any -money?” - -“Yes,” said Margaret, “I have this.” - -She displayed the half dollar, or rather what remained of it, after -discharging her fare in the omnibus. - -“That is very little. Take this.” - -He took a gold piece from the pile that lay on the table, and handed it -to her. “Come, let us part friends.” - -“You forget, Jacob, that this gold is not yours. It belongs to a -friend.” - -“Never mind,” he muttered, “I can replace it.” - -“No,” said she, decidedly, “I will not take it. I have no claim upon -you.” - -She rose and passed out of the room, Jacob looking after her with an air -of mingled doubt, apprehension, and perplexity. - -“I wish I knew,” he said to himself, “whether she has discovered -anything. But it can’t be possible. She appears strangely enough. -Perhaps her mind is unhinged by what I have told her. But I never could -have got on with her weighing me down. We must not meet again if it can -be avoided.” - -Jacob resolved to remove on the very next day to the more comfortable -room, which he considered suited to the improvement in his -circumstances. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXV. - THE DENUNCIATION. - - -If Margaret had been calm in her interview with Jacob Wynne, it was an -unnatural calmness. Beneath the surface there were eddies of passionate -emotion which must, sooner or later, force their way to the light. - -A sudden revulsion of feeling swept over her when, relieved from the -restraint which she had put upon herself in Jacob’s presence, she found -herself standing alone on the sidewalk beneath. Her strength, which had -been only kept up thus far by excitement, now gave way utterly, and she -leaned, faint and exhausted, against the side of the building. Even that -proved an insufficient support. Her limbs tottered, and she fell upon -the pavement. - -When consciousness returned, she found herself surrounded by a crowd of -persons, most of whom had been attracted by curiosity, and only one or -two of whom proved of real service. - -“Are you feeling better?” inquired a motherly-looking woman, gazing -compassionately at the wan and wasted features of Margaret. - -“Where am I?” asked Margaret, looking half bewildered at the questioner. - -“You have fainted on the sidewalk. I am afraid you are not strong.” - -“No. I have been sick. But I remember now. I should like to see a -lawyer.” - -Even in her weakness and physical prostration, she had not lost sight of -what must henceforth be her object—revenge upon him whose perfidy and -utter heartlessness she had now so fully proved. - -“You mean a doctor,” said the woman, a little surprised. - -“No,” repeated Margaret, with a touch of impatience in her voice. “I -want a lawyer.” - -At this moment, a man in a white hat and with a very bland expression -upon his features, which, however, could not boast a remarkable degree -of beauty, elbowed his way vigorously through the crowd. With a graceful -inclination, Mr. Sharp, whom the reader will already have recognized -from the description given, proclaimed that he was an humble attorney at -her service. - -“If you are a lawyer, I wish to consult you, but not before so many -people,” said Margaret, glancing at the curious faces of the bystanders. - -“I will procure a carriage, madam,” said Mr. Sharp, with his usual -affability, “and we will proceed at once to my office, where we shall -run no risk of being disturbed.” - -This course was accordingly taken, somewhat to the disappointment of -certain good people, who were burning for a solution of the mystery -which they were convinced existed somewhere. - -In a few minutes Margaret was installed in Mr. Sharp’s office, and that -gentleman, with professional zeal and a lively hope that the lady before -him might prove a more profitable client than the state of her attire -seemed to promise, waited patiently for his visitor to announce her -business. - -Margaret seemed to be lost in reflection, as if her mind were not wholly -made up about some matter. Fearing that she might not broach the subject -at all, and that he might thus lose the chance of the client which fate -seemed to have thrown in his way just as he had lost Lewis Rand, Mr. -Sharp thought it best to give her a gentle hint. - -“As a lawyer, madam, I shall be glad to exert myself in your behalf to -the best of my professional ability. Will you have the kindness, as soon -as your strength is sufficiently restored, to state your case?” - -Margaret aroused from her stupor. “Can you tell me,” she asked, -abruptly, “what punishment the law provides for forgery?” - -The lawyer was taken by surprise. He wondered if his visitor had -committed, or perchance was contemplating such a crime, and wished to -learn how great a risk it involved. - -“Forgery did I understand you to say, madam?” he inquired, partly with a -view to gain time. - -“Yes.” - -“Imprisonment for a term of years.” - -“You are sure it is not punished with death,” she asked, eagerly. - -“Not in this country. There was a time when it was so punished in -England.” - -“How long is the usual term of imprisonment?” - -“That depends, in some measure, upon the discretion of the court, which -is regulated by attendant circumstances. Possibly,” said the lawyer, -hazarding a conjecture, as Margaret remained silent, “you have a friend, -a relation perhaps (pardon me if I am wrong), who has been -unfortunate,”—a delicate way of hinting at crime,—“and in whose behalf -you have now come to consult me?” - -“A friend!” repeated Margaret, with a bitter smile. - -“I thought it possible,” said Mr. Sharp, mistaking her tone for one of -assent. “Well, madam, you must not allow yourself to be too much cast -down. I can easily conceive that your anxiety is aroused in your -friend’s behalf, but if one has ingenuity there are always methods of -evading the law, and if you will confide the case to me, I hope to -succeed in clearing your friend.” - -“That is just what I do not wish.” - -“Pardon me,” said the lawyer, in surprise. “I do not think I understand -you.” - -“You do not. In the first place, it is not a friend in whose welfare I -am interested.” - -“A relation?” suggested Mr. Sharp, still in the dark. - -“He is nothing to me,—nothing, do you hear?” exclaimed Margaret, with -fierce emphasis. “At least, not now. What he has been it is needless for -you to know, or me to remember. Enough, that I have reason to hate him, -that I wish to be revenged upon him, and that I ask you to lend me your -assistance.” - -“Explain the case, madam, if you please. I will give you my best -attention.” - -“I have sworn to be revenged upon him, and I will,” said Margaret, -hoarsely, rather to herself than to the lawyer. “There shall be no -flinching now.” - -She pressed her hand upon her breast, as if to still forcibly suppress -any remonstrance that might find a place there. - -“This man,” she continued, in a hurried tone, “has committed forgery. As -yet, it is undiscovered. I wish him brought to justice.” - -“What has he forged?” - -“A will.” - -“A will!” repeated Mr. Sharp, pricking up his ears with sudden interest. -“May I ask how you became acquainted with the fact?” - -“I witnessed the deed.” - -“Was the party aware of your presence?” - -“Far from it. He supposed the knowledge confined to himself and one -other, who instigated him to the act, and rewarded him for it. He -supposed me asleep, but I saw and heard the whole from a place of -concealment.” - -“This man is, I suppose, a copyist,—a professional writer?” - -“Yes.” - -“And the one who employed him,—do you know his name?” asked the lawyer, -with hardly concealed eagerness. - -“It is Rand.” - -“Rand!” echoed Mr. Sharp, triumphantly. “I suspected so.” - -“Then you knew of this?” queried Margaret, surprised in her turn. - -“No, but I am not surprised to hear it. I know Lewis Rand. He has been a -client of mine.” - -“You will not thwart my plans?” said Margaret, apprehensively. - -“On the contrary, what you have told me gives an additional inducement -to further them, since I have purposes of my own which will be served -thereby. Have you any corroborative evidence? Your testimony, -unsupported, might not be deemed sufficient.” - -“I have this,” said Margaret, displaying the fragment of paper which she -had secured on her return from Staten Island, and which, as the reader -will remember, contained the name, Rand, several times repeated in -Jacob’s handwriting, as well as detached sentences of the will itself. -The handwriting was a close imitation of the original will. - -“Ah!” said the lawyer, rubbing his hands; “that is very satisfactory. -With this and your testimony, the chain of proof will be complete. -Nothing stronger could be desired.” - -“Then you think we shall succeed.” - -“I have no doubt of it.” - -“Whatever is to be done must be done quickly,” said Margaret, with a -certain feverish haste; for, now that her mind was made up, her restless -spirit craved immediate action. “This man—the copyist—is about to remove -from his old lodgings, and, if there is any delay, he will escape. -Besides, if he is apprehended at once, he will be found in possession of -the price of his guilt.” - -“That will doubtless weigh against him. If you will furnish me with his -address, I will take measures to have him immediately arrested.” - -The address was given and noted down. The lawyer still held the pen -suspended over the paper. “His name,—you have not mentioned that.” - -Margaret hesitated. There was a brief internal conflict between her old -love and her present desire of revenge. The latter prevailed. - -“His name,” she said, in a voice which was scarcely audible, “is Jacob -Wynne.” - -“Jacob Wynne! Good!” - -Mr. Sharp noted down the name in a business-like way, utterly -unconscious of the struggle in the mind of his client, before she could -resolve to utter it. When, however, it was pronounced, and she felt that -the decisive step was taken, her mind, as is common in such cases, -became more tranquil, and she composed herself to wait for the event. - -“Will you remain here,” asked Mr. Sharp, “while I go out and cause this -man to be arrested? I will be back shortly, and will then report -progress.” - -Margaret inclined her head in the affirmative. Indeed, she had no other -place to go, and she was already so exhausted that she could not go out -into the streets, and wander hither and thither, as she must otherwise -have done. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXVI. - THE ARREST. - - -There had been an indefinable something in Margaret’s manner during her -interview with the copyist, which left an unpleasant impression upon his -mind. The guilt, of which he was secretly conscious, increased his -natural cowardice. He felt that, on all accounts, it would be better to -lose no time in his anticipated removal. He had intended to leave the -next day. He would go to-day. - -Acting upon this resolution, he began to pack the contents of the -drawers into a trunk. He was in the midst of this occupation, when a -knock was heard at the door. - -“Come in,” he said, carelessly, without at once turning to the door. - -Mr. Sharp entered, and coughed slightly, with the design of attracting -the scrivener’s attention. - -“I beg your pardon, sir,” said Jacob; “I am quite busy, preparing for a -removal. Could you defer your business till,—say day after to-morrow?” - -Our lawyer was one who never, under any circumstances, lost his -politeness. With an affability which seemed indicative of the kindest -feelings, he said, affably, “I believe I address Mr. Wynne?” - -“You are right,” said Jacob, who still labored under the impression that -the lawyer was one who required his services as copyist. - -“Mr. Jacob Wynne?” - -“Yes.” - -“A copyist?” - -“Yes, but I fear that I shall not be able to accommodate you to-day, -being, as you see, on the point of removal.” - -“You mistake my errand, Mr. Wynne. I have no doubt that you are a -skilful copyist. Indeed, I have great reason to think so, and do not -doubt that, if I were in need of anything in your line, I should find it -worth while to apply to you.” - -“What, then, is your business?” demanded Jacob, mystified. - -“I regret to say, Mr. Wynne,” said Mr. Sharp, losing none of his -affability, “that I have an unpleasant duty to perform. I have obtained -a warrant for your arrest.” - -“My arrest!” repeated the copyist, his sallow face exhibiting -unmistakable terror. - -“I regret to say so.” - -“On what charge?” ejaculated Jacob, too well surmising its nature. - -“Forgery.” - -Jacob’s lips became bloodless, and his cheeks assumed an ashen hue, for -at heart he was a very coward. In the moment of trial, none could be -more craven. - -“I regret to disturb you,” said Mr. Sharp, stepping back to the door and -opening it. “Mr. Officer, you will do your duty.” - -An officer, who had been stationed just outside the door, now entered, -and formally arrested Jacob Wynne. - -It is scarcely possible for a human being to exhibit more abject terror -than the miserable copyist, under this unforeseen blow. All his strength -seemed to have departed from him. When commanded by the officer to rise -and accompany him, he attempted to do so; but his limbs trembled so, -that he was scarcely able to comply. - -“A clear case,” thought the lawyer. - -“Really, my dear friend,” said Mr. Sharp, in a tone of expostulation, -“you are suffering your feelings to run away with you. You must be more -calm and collected.” - -“Is there no way of escape?” asked Jacob, in a tone of agonizing -entreaty. “Oh, spare me, gentlemen, and indeed you shall be well -rewarded. See, I have gold!” and he hurriedly unlocked a desk on the -table beside him. “Take what you will, but let me go.” - -Mr. Sharp’s eyes glistened as he caught sight of the gold; but, -perceiving no way in which he could avail himself of it, he assumed a -tone of outraged integrity. - -“What, sir!” he exclaimed; “can you, for an instant, suppose that we -would be guilty of interfering with the course of justice for a paltry -bribe? Thank Heaven!” he continued, fervently; “my integrity was never -called in question. Through a long and varied professional career, I -have steadily resisted all the temptations which have been brought to -bear upon me. Not though your bribe were a thousand times as large, -would I hesitate for a moment. Far better poverty and the consciousness -of unsullied integrity, than wealth and a dishonored name! I have no -doubt my worthy companion unites with me in this sentiment.” - -“Of course I do,” said that functionary, gruffly. - -“Then is there no chance?” asked Jacob, looking appealing from one to -the other. - -“Of course, if you are innocent, you will be discharged from custody. -The law only punishes the guilty.” - -This remark did not seem to yield Jacob much comfort. - -“I am sorry to hurry you,” said the officer; “but I cannot wait much -longer.” - -Jacob rose feebly, and descended the stairs supported by the officer. - -When the wretched copyist came in sight of the Tombs, his strength again -deserted him, and he became as weak as an infant. Supported on either -side he passed through the portal, and the heavy door swung back upon -its hinges. - -When he had been conducted to his cell and left alone, he flung himself -in an agony of terror and apprehension upon the pallet, clenching his -hands in impotent fury, while he muttered to himself, “Margaret has done -this! Margaret has done this!” - - - - - CHAPTER XXXVII. - A WOMAN’S HEART. - - -When the lawyer returned to his office, he found Margaret seated in the -same place and in the same attitude in which he had left her. She -started when he came into the room, and fixed her eyes eagerly upon him -with a look of anxious inquiry. - -“Well,” said the lawyer, rubbing his hands cheerfully, “we have -succeeded. The bird is fairly caged.” - -“Where have you carried him?” asked Margaret, in a low voice. - -“To the Tombs!” - -“How did he appear when you arrested him?” Margaret asked. - -“Appear! Frightened to death. I never saw a person more thoroughly -terrified than he was. He even had the temerity to offer me money if I -would aid him to escape,” said Mr. Sharp, in a burst of virtuous -indignation. - -Margaret sat for a short time in the same attitude of abstraction in -which the lawyer found her. She had succeeded, then. He who had wronged -and ill-treated her was already in a prison-cell. The revenge for which -she had longed was now hers. Yet it failed to give her that satisfaction -she had in anticipation. In the moment of her success she realized that -revenge was like a two-edged sword, wounding those who wielded it, as -well as him against whom it was directed. Yet would she recall what she -had done? No, at least not yet. Her brain was in a whirl of excitement, -a prey to conflicting thoughts. She must get into the fresh air. She -rose from the chair, and with unsteady feet walked slowly towards the -door, without a word. - -The lawyer looked at her with a puzzled glance. He could not read her -history. He had expected that she would rejoice in the intelligence be -brought. Instead, she seemed bewildered. - -As she lifted the latch, he said, hesitatingly, “In case I should wish -to communicate with you, where shall I call?” - -“I will call here,” said Margaret, briefly, and passed out. - -“A queer subject,” soliloquized Mr. Sharp, as he lighted a fragrant -Havana, and sat down to a meditative smoke. “Yet she may prove a client -not to be despised. If things work right, I shall obtain through her a -hold upon Lewis Rand which I shall be pretty apt to use. He has thrown -me off without ceremony. He may find it to his advantage to cultivate my -acquaintance. Well, well, the world turns round, and it is only fair -that I should be at the top, part of the time.” - -Meanwhile Margaret was making her way through the streets, changing her -direction more than once, yet tending ever nearer and nearer to one -point. At length she stood before the City Prison! With blanched cheek -and aching heart she looked upward at the huge pile. She wondered in -what quarter of the prison they had placed Jacob, and how he bore his -confinement. What a mystery is a woman’s heart! When she had thought of -him only as prosperous and triumphant, her heart had been swayed by -vindictive passion. Now in his humiliation she felt drawn towards -him—she felt even compassion for him. For more than an hour she stood -gazing at the dismal structure. Already the sun had set, and the -darkness was coming on. It closed about her wrapping her in its dusky -mantle. It was one of those autumn days that are succeeded by a chill -evening. She shivered as the cold penetrated her wretched shawl which -scantily served as a protection, and seeing a sheltered passage-way -nearly opposite where she was standing, walked there and sat down upon -steps concealed from the sight of the few passers-by in a state of -exhaustion. Overtasked nature succumbed, and she sank into a troubled -sleep. - -At an early hour in the morning she was aroused to consciousness again, -and urged by an impulse which she could not resist, crossed the street, -made her way to the office of the prison, and made known her desire to -see a prisoner. - -“Who do you wish to see?” - -“Jacob Wynne.” - -The officer in attendance turned to a book containing a list of the -unhappy persons who had found a home within these walls. - -“Yes,” he said, reading the entry; “Jacob Wynne, arrested on a charge of -forgery. He was brought here only yesterday.” - -“May I see him?” Margaret asked, eagerly. - -“It is hardly possible. The hour at which visitors are admitted has not -arrived. You must wait till ten o’clock.” - -“I have been waiting all night,” said Margaret. - -“All night. Where?” - -“In the street.” - -There was something in her tone that struck the officer. He regarded her -compassionately. - -“You will make an exception in my favor? I am his wife.” - -“I do not know,” he hesitated. “I may be exceeding my authority.” But -the sharp anxiety in Margaret’s face decided him. “I will do it once, as -a special favor.” - -Margaret did not thank him in words, but her face was eloquent with -gratitude. The sharp lines of anxiety softened, and an expression of -relief succeeded. - -She followed him through the long, damp corridor, until they stood -before the cell tenanted by Jacob Wynne. Margaret was admitted, a faint -light handed her, and then the door was locked as before. - -The prisoner was stretched on the hard pallet, with his face buried in -it. He seemed in a dull stupor, the result of his excessive fear. He did -not even look up as the door was opened, but his frame shook with a -convulsive tremor. - -Margaret advanced to the bed, and kneeling, touched his arm gently, -while she uttered his name softly. - -“Jacob!” - -He started, and looked wildly at his visitor. He did not seem to -comprehend that it was Margaret in real presence who knelt beside him. - -“Away! away!” he exclaimed, shuddering at her touch. “Why must I be -tormented before my time?” - -“Don’t you know me, Jacob? I am Margaret.” - -He looked at her half in doubt, and said, sullenly, “What more do you -want with me? Is it not enough that you have sent me here? Have you come -to finish your work?” - -“I have come to save you.” - -“To save me? Then it was not you who caused my arrest?” - -“Yes, Jacob, but I did not know what I was doing. I was hurried away by -passion. Forgive me, Jacob.” - -“Your regrets will avail little now,” he said, bitterly. “You have -placed me here, and here I must stay. Oh, it is horrible,” he said, -shuddering, “to be shut up in this damp, noisome cell!” - -“Listen, Jacob,” said Margaret; “your case is not so hopeless as you -imagine. It was at my instance that you were arrested. Heaven knows that -I had some cause. But I am sorry for it now. If you are convicted, it -can only be upon my testimony. Should I absent myself from your trial, -nothing could be proved against you, and you would be released.” - -“Will you do this, Margaret?” asked the prisoner, hope once more -kindling in his heart. “If you will, I will forever bless you. My fate -hangs upon your decision. You don’t know how I have suffered already, in -the few hours I have stayed here. Have compassion upon me, Margaret, and -I will take you back again as my wife. In one respect I have deceived -you. Our marriage was genuine. Forgive me for trying to persuade you -otherwise.” - -An expression of earnest gratitude and relief overspread Margaret’s -face. “Thank you for those words, Jacob. It cancels all the harshness -and all the wrong that I have met at your hands. Then I am really your -wedded wife?” - -“Yes, Margaret,” said Jacob, humbly, for confinement had wrought a -salutary change in his deportment; “I confess that I wished to convince -you of the contrary. I even meditated, in my wickedness, marrying -another for her wealth, not because I loved her. But it is all over now, -and I am glad of it. Only release me from this imprisonment, and I -promise——” - -“Promise nothing,” said Margaret; “I do not wish to take advantage of -your present situation, when perhaps you might be induced to promise -that which you would afterwards repent.” - -“But, I am sincere.” - -“You may be now, but will it last? I do not wish,” she resumed, with -proud composure, “to force myself upon you against your will. You have -already freed me from my chief trouble, in acknowledging that our -marriage was not the idle mockery you would have had me believe. Farther -than that, I require nothing of you. If, at the end of six months from -your release, you still desire that I should come to you, I will. Till -that time has passed, it is best that we should be to each other as -strangers.” - -Margaret spoke with calmness and dignity. Even Jacob perceived this, and -he could not help feeling an unwonted admiration for the woman he had -spurned. He had never felt her value till, by her own act, a wall of -separation was built up between them. - -“I have no right to complain,” said Jacob, humbly. “I do not deserve -your confidence, Margaret; but you shall find, hereafter, that I am more -trustworthy than you think.” - -“Heaven grant it, Jacob! Do not think me unkind or vindictive, if I -refuse at once to burden you with myself. I should not survive a second -repulse. What I have suffered from our estrangement, God only knows. But -it shall be forgotten.” - -“How long shall I be obliged to remain here?” - -“I do not know. At any rate, only till I can arrange for your release. I -will lose no time about it.” - -The turnkey appeared, and Margaret went forth from the cell, leaving -Jacob inexpressibly relieved by the promise she had made. He knew -Margaret well enough to feel assured that she would keep it. - -Not less relieved was Margaret. The black cloud which hung over her was -dissipated. Now she could resign herself even to the alienation of -Jacob’s affection, since she was assured that, by the laws of God and -man, she was still his wedded wife. He had treated her most basely and -unworthily, that she knew full well; but this guilt and mortification, -at least, she was spared. She felt new strength in her limbs, new -cheerfulness in her heart. She bent her steps at once to Mr. Sharp’s -office. To him she made known her change of determination, and her -desire to suppress her evidence, that the prisoner might be released. - -Mr. Sharp was embarrassed. This sudden whim, as he called it, threatened -to disarrange all his plans. - -He paced the office, while Margaret followed him with an anxious look. - -“Is it too late?” she inquired. - -“I will tell you, madam, how the matter stands,” said the lawyer, -suddenly, taking a seat opposite Margaret. “By this false will, whose -forgery you can attest, a large estate has been diverted from the legal -heirs,—a father and child,—highly estimable, but very poor, and been -seized upon by an artful villain,—a cousin,—whose best efforts have been -given to the task of sowing dissension between the late Mr. Rand and the -son to whom I allude. Now the question arises, whether it is right, for -the sake of saving a guilty man, to perpetuate this great wrong, and -keep the rightful heirs out of their inheritance? Do you dare to take -upon your soul that responsibility?” - -Mr. Sharp argued well. Let not the reader give him too much credit for -disinterested love of right. It should not be forgotten, that he rightly -anticipated from Mr. Ford a liberal reward for his professional -exertions. - -“What would you have me do?” asked Margaret, in a troubled tone. “I do -not wish to aid injustice, _but this man is my husband_!” - -“Indeed!” exclaimed the lawyer, surprised. “Yet you gave the information -that led to his arrest.” - -“I knew not what I did. I was angry and vindictive. But is there nothing -that can be done to restore the estate without the sacrifice of my -husband?” - -Mr. Sharp considered a moment. - -“I think I can manage it,” he said; “but it will be necessary for your -husband to remain in confinement for a few days longer. Will you consent -to this?” - -“Freely.” - -“Then I will see Mr. Rand, and I think I can so far work upon his fears -as to extort from him at least a portion of what he has so criminally -acquired. Meanwhile, it will be best for you to keep out of the way; -only let me know where to find you in case I require your presence.” - -Thus matters were arranged. Margaret returned to her mother, not as she -left her, dull and dispirited, but with a cheerfulness for which the -latter strove in vain to account. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXVIII. - GREEK MEETS GREEK. - - -The novelty of possession had not yet palled upon Lewis Rand. It seemed -to him still like a dream, of whose reality he could scarcely assure -himself. Day after day he wandered through the magnificently-furnished -rooms of the stately dwelling, and surveyed them with a proud rising of -the heart. In the evening, as he sat before the grate fire in the -library, for the evenings were growing cool, he would run over in his -mind the long list of his possessions, and launch forth in imagination -upon plans which he meant to carry out. If by chance the image of the -cousin whom he had defrauded presented itself, it was hastily dismissed. - -One evening, as he sat idly before the fire, indulging in complacent -thoughts, a servant announced a visitor. - -“Bring him in here,” said Lewis, albeit somewhat surprised at an -intrusion at that late hour. This surprise was not lessened when, in the -visitor, he recognized Mr. Sharp. - -The lawyer advanced with an air of easy assurance, and as he glanced -about him observed, rubbing his hands, “Really, Mr. Rand, you are quite -charmingly situated. I am reminded of what I have read of the Mohammedan -Paradise. To make it complete, you only need a houri.” - -“Yet, Paradise as it is,” said Lewis, significantly, for he had neither -forgotten nor forgiven the lawyer’s treachery, “it is not free from the -intrusion of evil spirits.” - -“Indeed!” returned Mr. Sharp, with an admirable air of unconsciousness, -“you surprise me.” - -“Not more than I am surprised to see you here. If it is not taking too -great a liberty, might I inquire the motive of your visit? I presume it -is not the pleasure of seeing me.” - -“That’s undoubtedly one of my motives,” said the lawyer, affably; “but, -as you surmise, it is not the only one. I wish to speak with you on -important business.” - -“Perhaps you have made out a bill of charge for the very valuable -services you have rendered me?” - -“Thank you,” said Mr. Sharp, bowing; “I cannot express the gratification -I feel at this generous commendation on the part of one in whose behalf -I have put forth my poor efforts.” - -“Sir,” said Lewis Rand, rising impatiently, “you cannot hope to deceive -me by your imperturbable assurance. You serve my interests! You put -forth efforts in my behalf! You, who turned traitor to my interests, and -sought by every means in your power to defeat my plans! This, I suppose, -is your idea of legal fidelity.” - -“I fancy,” said the lawyer, boldly, “that I have been as faithful to you -as you to your uncle. If we are to indulge in recrimination, it may be -that I shall not come off second-best.” - -“What do you mean, sir? You are disposed to be impertinent. Can you deny -that it was through your agency that my cousin was informed of that -which I most desired to conceal from him?” - -“And thereby,” said the lawyer, composedly, “enabled a father and son to -meet before Death came in to separate them forever upon the earth.” - -“This, then, is the construction which you put upon your conduct,” said -Lewis, with a sneer. “I congratulate you upon your elevated sentiments.” - -“Thank you,” said Mr. Sharp, bowing modestly. “Appreciation is always -soothing to the feelings. Praise from such a source makes me proud, -indeed.” - -Lewis was incensed to find the lawyer adopting the tone which he had -hitherto arrogated to himself. That a briefless attorney should dare to -indulge in sarcasm at his expense was a piece of unparalleled -presumption. - -“I need not say,” he remarked with a smile of conscious power, “how much -I regret putting to inconvenience a man of such elevated and Christian -sentiments as yourself. Yet I am under the necessity of reminding you -that you have in your possession some three hundred dollars which I -intrusted to you for a particular purpose. That sum I have present -occasion for. If you are unable to pay me, I may feel called upon to -resort to measures which may be mutually disagreeable.” - -“I am glad you mentioned it,” said Mr. Sharp, blandly. “By the way, you -can show proof that you did intrust me with this money?” - -Lewis colored with mortification. He had no such proof, and his threat -was futile. - -“You perceive,” said the lawyer, nonchalantly, “that if I were -dishonest, I might deny the trust. But such is not my intention. Will -you favor me with a slip of paper?” - -Mr. Sharp made out a bill for professional services amounting to three -hundred dollars. This he receipted, and handed to Lewis. - -“I believe we are now quits,” he said. - -Baffled once more, Lewis turned upon the lawyer with a fury which he no -longer attempted to conceal. - -“Then,” said he, “I see no further reason for continuing this -interview.” - -“Pardon me,” said Mr. Sharp, “my business is not yet completed; I came -here in behalf of your cousin, my client, Robert Rand.” - -“Perhaps,” said Lewis, with a sneer, “he has come to his senses, and -decided to accept the offer I made him the day after the funeral. You -may inform him that he is too late. The offer is withdrawn.” - -“As to that, your message is unnecessary, since he has not the slightest -disposition to accept it.” - -“Indeed! Then may I beg to know with what message you are charged?” - -“He will agree to receive nothing less than half the estate.” - -“He is quite moderate. You are sure that he does not demand the whole?” - -“Quite so. He has no disposition to impoverish you, notwithstanding the -wrongs he has received at your hands.” - -“He is considerate,” said Lewis, “very considerate! How soon does he -expect an answer to his modest proposal?” - -“This very night.” - -“And suppose,” said Lewis, “(of course, it is highly improbable) but -suppose I should decline complying with this very moderate demand of my -worthy cousin? What then?” - -Lewis regarded Mr. Sharp with an exulting smile. - -“Allow me, before answering your question, to propose one of my own.” - -“Certainly, Mr. Sharp,” said Lewis, graciously, already exulting in the -other’s discomfiture; “I shall be happy to give you information upon any -point you may desire.” - -He leaned back and surveyed the lawyer with an insolent smile. But his -triumph was short-lived. - -“Are you acquainted with a copyist named Wynne,—Jacob Wynne?”—asked Mr. -Sharp, looking searchingly at his late client. - -Lewis Rand started, and his sallow face grew red and white by turns. - -“Well,” said he, with a vain effort to speak carelessly, “and if I do?” - -“He is now an inmate of the Tombs,” said Mr. Sharp, significantly. - -Lewis rose from his seat, and paced the room. At length he paused before -the lawyer. - -“Why do you tell me this?” he demanded fiercely, “What have I to do with -a paltry scrivener? What is it to me that he is in prison? Doubtless he -has been there before, and you too, for ought I know.” - -“He was arrested on a charge of forgery,” said the lawyer, slowly, -watching the effect of this announcement on his companion. - -Lewis sat down, brought to bay at last, and leaned his head upon the -table. He no longer dared to evade the subject. He felt that the danger -was imminent, and must be confronted. - -“How was his arrest brought about?” he inquired. - -“Through the agency of a woman,—his wife, I believe,—who, in consequence -of some quarrel, wishes to revenge herself upon this Jacob. When the -forgery was committed she was a concealed spectator, and saw and heard -the whole. _She can swear to the person who employed Jacob Wynne to do -this service!_ Nor is this all. She has a piece of paper—a torn half -sheet—which was used by the copyist to try his pen on that night. It -contains a name several times repeated.” - -Lewis did not inquire what name. - -“Go on,” he said, hoarsely. - -“This woman—this Margaret—fell in with me, and applied to me to help -her. It suited my purpose to do so, although her poverty will prevent my -receiving any recompense from her.” - -“Then she is poor,” said Lewis, thoughtfully. “Where is she?” - -“Pardon me,” said Mr. Sharp, reading the purpose of Lewis in his face; -“that is a question which I cannot answer.” - -“Has Jacob divulged anything since he was imprisoned?” - -“That was not needful. I will at once speak to the point, Mr. Rand. It -can be abundantly proved that this forgery was committed at your -instigation. Once let this be known, and you become amenable to the same -penalties which now menace your instrument. One word from me will carry -you to prison to-night. There is no chance of escape. I have obtained a -warrant, and an officer is waiting at the door. But there is an -alternative.” - -Lewis summoned all the energies of his crafty and subtile mind to devise -some method of escape. But he was entangled in a labyrinth from which he -could not extricate himself. - -“Give me till to-morrow,” he said. - -“I regret that I cannot do so,” said the lawyer, politely. - -“Name your proposition, then,” he said, sullenly. - -Mr. Sharp drew from his pocket a legal instrument conveying one half of -all his estates to Robert Rand, some time known as Robert Ford. It was -drawn up with all the precision and technicality required by the law. It -only needed the signature of Lewis. - -Lewis read it with dark and lowering face. “I cannot sign it,” he said, -desperately. - -“Then I fear you must exchange this warm fireside for an apartment less -luxurious.” - -“Fate is against me,” muttered Lewis, moved by this threat. “Since it -must be done.” - -“Will you have the kindness to summon two of your servants to witness -the document?” said the lawyer. - -Lewis rang the bell sharply. - -“Jacqueline, call Antoine, and come in yourself.” - -Lewis signed his name. - -“Will that satisfy you?” he said, bitterly. - -“Perfectly,” said Mr. Sharp, bowing. - -“Then, Antoine, you will show this gentleman to the door.” - -Mr. Sharp bowed graciously, and withdrew. A moment more, and Lewis was -left alone,—a prey to the keenest disappointment. Troubled as he was by -the loss of one half his possessions, there were two things that -troubled him even more. He had been out-generalled by one of his own -tools, whom he had looked upon with contempt, and his cousin, whom he -detested more than ever, was now as wealthy as himself. - -Lewis Rand paced the library with disordered steps, till far into the -night, and, when he retired to his chamber, it was not to sleep. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXIX. - THE SLAVE OF THE NEEDLE. - - -Perhaps no employment is more confining and more poorly compensated than -that of sewing. The narrow choice allowed to women, who are compelled to -labor for their livelihood, leads to an unhealthy and disastrous -competition in this department of toil, and enables employers to -establish a disgracefully low scale of prices.[1] Fifteen hours out of -the twenty-four are sometimes spent in unremitting labor, the results of -which will scarcely keep soul and body together. The cook or house-maid -enjoys a degree of comfort, and commands an income (including board) -absolutely unattainable by the slave of the needle. - -Footnote 1: - - The reader is referred to an interesting series of papers, entitled - “Needle and Garden,” published in the “Atlantic Monthly” during the - year 1865. - -Hard work and an absence of nourishing food were beginning to tell on -the delicate frame of Martha Grey. An expert needle-woman, she -commanded, in good times, an abundant supply of work. But times had -changed. The shops gave out less work, while the number who desired it -seemed rather to have increased than diminished. The natural result -followed,—a reduction in the compensation, already disgracefully low. -Many could not obtain a chance to work at any price. Martha was allowed -her usual supply, but at prices twenty per cent. lower than she had -before received. The heart of the poor seamstress sank within her, as -she walked home with a bundle of work, for which she was to be paid at -the new rate. How was she to economize? It seemed before as if her wants -were reduced to the minimum, and yet she had been able to lay by -nothing. In addition to this, her health, never very firm, had shown -some indications of failure. She was troubled with occasional dizziness -and frequent nervous headaches, which rendered her enforced slavery to -the needle a torture, but one from which she could not deliver herself. - -But one alternative presented itself. She must contract her necessary -expenditures, or increase her hours of work. She did not know how to -compass the one, while the other would probably lead to sickness. She -attempted a middle course. On a scantier diet she strove to work an hour -more daily. The result was what might have been anticipated. Nature -succumbed. One morning Helen, on returning from rehearsal, entered -Martha’s room unceremoniously, as was her wont. Great was her dismay on -discovering her friend lying insensible on the floor. Her work, on which -she had been engaged up to the moment of her attack, had fallen from her -hands, and lay beside her. - -Helen was not unused to such cases. Though quite terrified, she had -sufficient self-possession to apply the proper restoratives. - -Martha soon opened her eyes, and, recognizing Helen, smiled faintly. - -“How do you feel, Martha?” inquired Helen, anxiously. - -“I am afraid I am going to be sick,” said Martha. - -“When did you first feel it?” - -“It has been coming on for several days. I have not been free from the -headache for a week.” - -“Why didn’t you tell me before?” asked Helen, reproachfully. - -“Because you could have done me no good, my dear child.” - -“Let me help you to the bed. Now you must lie down, and try to rest. I -suppose you have worked just as usual, too, you imprudent Martha.” - -“I can’t afford to lie still, you know.” - -“You can afford to lie still better than to ruin your health.” - -By this time Martha was lying on the bed. - -“If you will pass me my work, Helen, I think I can sew while I am lying -down.” - -“No, Martha,” said Helen, shaking her head; “I shall not allow it. You -are wholly unfit for work. You must have a good long rest.” - -“But, Helen——” - -“I know what you would say,—that you can’t afford to lie still. Just as -if you had no friends, you unreasonable child. For a week to come, you -must not touch your needle. During that time I will bring in your meals -to you.” - -“But, Helen——” - -“Now don’t be perverse, Martha. Papa says I am a tyrant, and I mean to -be in this case. To make sure that you don’t touch your work, I shall -carry it away with me, and finish it myself.” - -“But, Helen, you have your father to care for. I cannot consent to -become a burden upon you.” - -“Are you aware, Martha, how rich I am? For some weeks past, I have spent -scarcely more than half my income. You see, therefore, that I am -abundantly able to do what little I propose. But I sha’n’t allow you to -talk any more. Try to go to sleep, and I will come in pretty soon. Mind -I find you better.” - -Helen left the room with the work in her hand. Martha ceased her -opposition. She felt that the time had come when labor was no longer -possible. She must have rest. How grateful the thought that, for a week, -she should be free from the drudgery of the needle,—that her busy -fingers might be folded in idleness, without the troubled thought that -her bread depended upon her exertions. She lay back, and a sense of -delicious rest came to her. She did not try to look beyond the week of -rest. That seemed a long and blissful eternity. She was almost too weary -to think. The sharp pain became less poignant, and at last she fell -asleep. She slept for three hours, and, when she woke, it was to see the -kind face of Helen bending over her. - -“How do you feel now, Martha?” - -“Better, much better.” - -“Have you slept well?” - -“Yes, I have slept nearly all the time since you were in? How long is -that?” - -“I came in at eleven. It is now nearly three.” - -“Is it so long?” - -“I thought you must be hungry, Martha, so I have brought in some -chicken-broth for you. I hope you will like it.” - -“Some chicken-broth? O Helen, I am afraid you have made it on purpose -for me.” - -“Well, and if I have?” - -“I can’t bear to think I am making you so much trouble.” - -“Then I will relieve you by saying that I didn’t make it expressly for -you. Papa and I had it for dinner, and papa seemed to relish it -amazingly. I don’t know when he has eaten so hearty a dinner.” - -“I am glad of that. I think I shall like it, too. The smell of it quite -revives me. I will get up immediately.” - -“No, you shall stay where you are. Wait a moment and I will bring back a -pillow from our room. Then I can prop you up in bed, and you shall eat -in bed as the French do. Really, Martha, you are getting to be quite a -fashionable lady.” - -Martha’s sickness had been the result in part of a lack of proper food. -The chicken-broth was relished as much as Helen could desire. - -“I knew you would like it, Martha. Why, you are beginning to look better -already.” - -“I think I shall be able to go to work to-morrow.” - -“Not to-morrow, nor this week. It will take you at least a week to -recover.” - -“But, Helen——” - -“That is the third time you have said ‘But, Helen.’ Do you know, you -unreasonable creature, that I allow no disobedience? I have undertaken -to cure you, and I mustn’t have you interfering.” - -“But it will not take a week for me to get well.” - -“Don’t tell me that. I know the meaning of those pale cheeks. I ought to -have noticed them before. In a few days, when you are strong enough, we -will all take an excursion together, that is, papa and you and I, and -perhaps Herbert—I mean Mr. Coleman—will go too. I want to see a little -color in those cheeks.” - -“How kind you are, Helen!” said Martha, gratefully. - -“Wouldn’t you be as kind to me, if I were sick instead of you? tell me -that, Martha?” - -“Yes, I hope I should.” - -“Then you see there is no reason for thanking me. I dare say I shall -take a fancy to fall sick some day when you are quite well, and call you -in to take care of me. I warn you beforehand that I shall make a -dreadfully cross patient.” - -Martha smiled. There was something contagious in Helen’s light heart and -exuberance of cheerfulness. The world seemed a great deal brighter to -her than it had done a few hours before. - -“Now, Martha, as it must be dreadfully tiresome lying there staring at -that white-washed wall, I will tell you what I am going to do. I was -passing a circulating library just now, when I thought I would run in -and get something to read to you. Shall you like it?” - -“Very much. It is a long time since I have had a chance to read -anything.” - -“It will interest me, too. If you feel like it, I will sit down, and -commence it now.” - -“I wish you would.” - -Helen drew a chair up to the bedside and began to read. - -The book was a work of fiction, the heroine one who had to struggle with -life very much as they had done. It was the work of a superior writer, -and written with a charm of style that made it additionally attractive. - -Helen read fifty pages, when the approach of evening made it necessary -for her to pause. - -“I will come in to-morrow morning, and read a little while,” she said. -“Good night, Martha. I suppose I must be getting ready for the theatre.” - -It was on this evening that Mr. Sharp had the memorable interview with -Lewis Rand, which resulted in restoring to Helen and her father a -magnificent fortune. - - - - - CHAPTER XL. - UNCLE ZEBINA’S OFFER. - - -Helen and the young artist, who roomed opposite, remained fast friends. -From the evening when, by a fortunate chance, he was enabled to defend -her from insult he established himself as her evening escort from the -theatre. These daily walks enabled each better to understand the other. -They became mutual confidants. Helen indulged in sanguine anticipations -of the success of her father’s invention,—anticipations in which the -young man’s practical sense could not permit him to join, yet he was so -careful of Helen’s feelings, that he never, by a word, sought to -undermine her perfect trust in her father’s ability to achieve success. - -Herbert, too, had his dreams of fame and fortune. He was an enthusiastic -lover of his art. No future seemed so bright to him as that in which he -figured himself an artist, achieving fame by his works. Others might -become generals, judges, statesmen; he desired nothing better than to be -admitted into the confidence of Nature, and to become her interpreter. - -Many were the pleasant conversations on art which he held with Helen. -She looked up to him with affectionate reverence, and believed in him -fully. The compact into which they had entered, to regard each other as -brother and sister, had been faithfully kept. Not seldom Herbert was an -invited guest at Mr. Ford’s table. Helen presided on such occasions with -proud delight, and with an assumption of matronly dignity, which lent -her new charms in the eyes of her father and the young artist, who felt -his isolation relieved by admittance to the humble home of the inventor. - -But of late Helen perceived with some concern, not unmingled with -surprise, that Herbert had grown less social and communicative. A shadow -seemed to rest upon his features. She tried in gentle ways to lure him -on to talk of himself, but without success. Something was evidently -troubling him, and she was anxious to learn what it was. - -She was saved the trouble of inquiring, for the young artist finally -spoke himself. It was on the evening of the same day that Margaret was -taken sick. - -“My little sister,” said Herbert, “you have perhaps observed a change in -me within a few days.” - -“Yes, Herbert; I have been afraid that you were sick or in trouble, and -I wanted to ask you what it was.” - -“I _am_ sick, Helen, sick at heart; I believe disappointment is harder -to bear than physical pain, especially when, as in my case, it is the -disappointment of a long-cherished hope. You know how often I have -talked to you about art, and how I longed to achieve name and fame as an -artist.” - -“Yes, Herbert, you surely have not changed your mind.” - -“Never!” said the young man, fervently. “Never has art appeared to me so -divinely beautiful as now, when I fear I must renounce it. Never has my -longing to attain its coveted rewards been stronger. And to think I must -give it all up after the brief dream of enjoyment in which I have -indulged,—this is, indeed, hard.” - -“But why,” said Helen, puzzled; “why, if you still love it as much as -ever, do you renounce it?” - -“My little sister,” said the artist, sadly, “it is money that rules the -world. Before its sway we must all bow, willing or unwilling. It is the -want of money that drives me to abandon that which is the chief joy of -my life.” - -“But, Herbert, can’t you sell your pictures?” - -“In art it is a crime to be a young man. If I were only well known! But -I look too much like a boy. Don’t think,” he added, hastily, “that I -consider this the only impediment to my success. I have doubtless much, -very much, to learn. There is great room for improvement, and if I could -I should be content to work on for years without selling a picture, -striving only to improve myself, not achieving, but learning to achieve. -Yet I have seen paintings sold for generous sums, on account of the -artist’s name, no better than mine.” - -“I am sure your ‘Country Farm-house’ is a beautiful painting,” said -Helen, enthusiastically. “There must be a great many that would like to -buy it.” - -Herbert smiled bitterly. - -“I tried to sell it, yesterday, to a dealer. He received me coldly, and -after inquiring what else I had painted declined to buy it on any terms. -Another offered me ten dollars, a little more than the cost of the -frame. I had the curiosity to inquire the price of another painting -which he had for sale, which I should certainly not admit to be superior -to my own, and was told that it was one hundred and fifty dollars. One -hundred and fifty dollars! if I could only realize that sum for mine, it -would enable me to work six months longer. But wishes are cheap. -Yesterday I decided to give up all my dreams of art, and go back to my -country home.” - -“O Herbert, what a pity!” - -“Just as I had come to this conclusion I received a letter from an uncle -of mine in my native town, which confirmed my resolution. He keeps a -country store, partly grocery, partly dry goods, and wants an assistant. -He writes that, so far as he can learn, I don’t find painting very -profitable,—but hold, I will read you the letter.” - -Pausing before a shop window, Herbert took from his pocket a letter -inclosed in a coarse yellow envelope, and read it as follows:— - - “DEAR NEPHEW,— - - “I am in good health, and hope you are enjoying the same blessing. - Your folks are pretty smart. Your father sold his yearling calf - last week, and got a pretty good price for it. I expect you are - not making much money by your painting. I always thought it a - foolish piece of business letting you go into such an uncertain - trade, and so I told brother, but he wouldn’t listen to me, though - I expect now he is beginning to think about as I do. If it had - been house painting now, there’d have been some sense in that. - There’s Josiah Watson is making his two dollars and a half a day - straight along, and I don’t believe you’re making a quarter of - that. (’He’s right there,’ interpolated Herbert.) Now I’m going to - make you an offer, and if you’re wise you’ll accept it. I’m - getting old, and I find my business increasing. I need help in the - store, and I’d rather give the situation to one that’s kin to me - than to a stranger, especially as I can trust you, and may be I - might get deceived in another. I’m willing to pay thirty-five - dollars a month, and more when you’ve got a little used to things, - so you can move round handy. I shall want you to begin work the - first of next month. That’ll give you a fortnight to settle up - your painting business in the city. - - “Now, nephew Herbert, I’ve made you a fair offer, and you’ll do - well to accept it. Your father thinks as I do about it; and the - folks, I know, will like to have you at home again. I don’t want - to make no promises, but bimeby I may find myself obliged to take - a partner, and of course, if you give satisfaction, as I’ve no - doubt you will, I sha’n’t be very apt to go out of the family. I - shall want to hear from you as soon as you have made up your mind. - Your aunt Desire sends her love, and hopes you will come. She - would like to have you bring her a new pair of spectacles from the - city. Her old pair got broken the other day (your cousin Mary - stepped on them), and she’s pestered about seeing. - - “Your uncle, - “ZEBINA PRATT.” - -“A brilliant offer, isn’t it?” said the young artist. “I am invited to -give up all my high aspirations,—all my dreams of artistic eminence,—and -take my place behind the counter of a country-store, to weigh out tea -and sugar for Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Jones, and chaffer with Mrs. Thompson -about the extra half cent on a yard of calico. And all for thirty-five -dollars a month!” - -“The offer seems kindly meant,” said Helen. - -“Yes, there is no doubt of that. Uncle Zebina is a worthy and -kind-hearted man. I have no doubt he thinks he is consulting my best -interests in making me such a proposal. And doubtless he is, so far as -his views of life are concerned. I should be pretty sure to be admitted -into partnership after a while, and eventually to succeed my uncle in -business. I dare say I should become a thrifty trader, be elected -selectman, assessor, town clerk, and perhaps in time be elected to a -seat in the legislature. That is not so bad, is it? And what has art to -offer me that will outweigh all these advantages? It will gratify my -æsthetic tastes; it will give me that which my soul craves; it will open -to me a world of beauty in which I can revel; but, alas! it will not -give me bread. Helen, it is bread and butter that must decide this -question. I believe I must send my uncle an affirmative answer. I must -bid farewell to art, and sell soap and sugar. What do you advise?” - -There was a bitterness in the young man’s tone that pained Helen. -Accustomed to think for her father, she began to think for him. What -would be best? It was not a question to be hastily decided. Bread and -butter, humble and prosaic as it is, is not to be slighted. Yet she was -convinced that Herbert would be very unhappy if transferred to his -uncle’s store. - -“I don’t know what to say, Herbert,” said Helen, at length. “I want to -think it over. When do you propose to write to your uncle?” - -“I can wait till day after to-morrow.” - -“Then I will think it over till then. Perhaps, between us, we can think -of something that will keep you in the city. I don’t know what I should -do without you. Next to my father, I should miss you.” - -“And one of my chief regrets in leaving the city would be that I must -leave behind my little sister,” said the young artist, affectionately. - -“Thank you, Herbert; goodnight!” - -“Good night, Helen.” - - - - - CHAPTER XLI. - MR. SHARP MAKES AN IMPORTANT COMMUNICATION. - - -Helen was engaged in rinsing up the breakfast dishes, thinking busily -meantime what could be done for Herbert, when a gentle tap called her to -the door. Wondering a little at so early a call, she looked up to meet -the smiling face of Mr. Sharp. - -“Good morning, Mr. Sharp,” she said, politely. “Won’t you come in and -see papa?” - -“Thank you, my dear Miss Ford; at the risk of interrupting your -respected father in his valuable scientific labors I will yet do so. I -am quite aware that I have called at an unseasonable hour. I should not -have ventured to do it, but that I am summoned hither by business of an -important character—business, which I may venture to hope, will make me -welcome.” - -“You are welcome, sir; we are always glad to see one who has shown -himself a friend.” - -“Thank you, my dear Miss Ford. Such a testimony is most grateful to my -feelings, the more so that I feel, so far as my intentions are -concerned, it is not wholly undeserved.” - -“Papa, Mr. Sharp is here,” said Helen, going up to her father, and -laying her hand lightly upon his shoulder. - -Rousing at the touch, Mr. Ford advanced and welcomed the lawyer -cordially. - -“I was just apologizing to your charming daughter for calling so early,” -said Mr. Sharp. - -“There is no occasion for that,” said Mr. Ford, courteously. “We don’t -stand on ceremony with our friends.” - -“I hope you will ever include me in that number. But my call this -morning is of a business character.” - -“Shall I leave the room, papa?” - -“No, my dear, I can have no business in which you are not equally -interested.” - -“By no means, my dear Miss Ford; I particularly desire that you should -be present. Mr. Ford, I called on your cousin Lewis last evening.” - -“And I suppose he renewed his offer,” said Mr. Ford, hastily. “Tell him -from me that I shall accept no pittance at his hands. The only -proposition to which I shall listen is one that will surrender to me -half of my father’s estate.” - -“He has consented to such a surrender,” said Mr. Sharp. - -“My cousin has consented to yield me one half the estate!” exclaimed Mr. -Ford, overwhelmed with astonishment. - -Helen drew near, and listened intently, half believing she was dreaming. - -“Read this,” said the lawyer, showing the document he had extorted from -the fears of Lewis Rand. - -“Can this be genuine?” - -“There can be no doubt of that. Mr. Rand signed it in my presence.” - -“But I cannot account for such a change in him.” - -“I can,” said Mr. Sharp, smiling. “Indeed, I may say that it is entirely -owing to my persuasions that the change is due.” - -“You have, indeed, been a friend,” said Mr. Ford, grasping his hand, -warmly; “but I am still at a loss——” - -“To understand the secret of my influence?” - -“Yes.” - -“I will not conceal from you that your cousin acted very much against -his will; but I employed an argument which he found it impossible to -resist.” - -“And that was——” - -“A police officer, and a warrant for his arrest.” - -“Have you arrested Lewis?” - -“No, I only used these _in terrorem_. Threatening breaks no bones, but -sometimes serves a useful purpose, as in this case. Not to keep you in -suspense, however, a singular and unexpected chance threw in my way the -proofs of your cousin’s complicity in a forged will by which he holds -the estate. Acting as your unauthorized agent, yet feeling sure that you -would give me a warrant for my proceedings, I brought these to bear upon -him, but agreed in your name to stay further proceedings against him if -he would quietly yield to you one half of all the property left by your -late father. Was I right in making this agreement?” - -“Quite so. I have no desire to subject my cousin to any legal penalties. -It is enough that he has done me tardy justice. But how shall I thank -you, Mr. Sharp, for your friendly and disinterested service?” - -“My dear Mr. Ford,” said Mr. Sharp, with effusion, “I feel abundantly -repaid in having been the humble agent of restoring to you and my -charming young friend, Miss Helen, that property which rightfully -belongs to you. Yet, if you desire to acknowledge in any way the -obligation, I will suggest that you will probably require a man of -business, to undertake the charge of your large property. I believe I am -right in asserting that you will not desire so far to interrupt your -scientific pursuits, for the petty details of business, to which an -inferior capacity can equally well attend. Should you so far honor me -with your confidence, as to intrust that business to my charge, to -select me, in fact, as your lawyer and man of business, I trust I shall -do all that is possible to any one to promote your interests.” - -“Mr. Sharp,” said Mr. Ford, “if you will undertake that office, I shall -regard it as a fresh kindness on your part. You are well aware that I -have little business capacity. The accession of wealth I shall not -permit materially to interfere with my scientific pursuits. Indeed, it -is partly because it will facilitate them, that I am thankful for this -change in my circumstances. Let me add, that I shall desire to -compensate your services liberally.” - -“Thank you,” said Mr. Sharp, with feeling; “I feel grateful for this -mark of your confidence. I will not hesitate even to accept the -compensation to which you so delicately allude, and trust I shall be -able to show you that I am sensible of the great privilege of being -admitted to your friendship.” - -“Mr. Sharp,” said Helen, thoughtfully, “can you give me any idea of the -value of the property which has come to papa?” - -“I cannot, of course, give you any definite statement, my dear Miss -Ford. From investigations I have made, however, I can assure you that it -will exceed half a million dollars.” - -“I am _so_ glad,” exclaimed Helen, looking quite radiant. - -“Why, Helen,”, said her father, roused into surprise; “I had no idea you -were grown so fond of money!” - -“It is because of the good we can do with so much, papa. Indeed, I want -to dispose of some at once.” - -“Speak, Helen. It must be a large favor that I would not grant you.” - -“But this is a hundred and fifty dollars, papa.” - -“Half an hour since that would have seemed a large sum to me, Helen; -now, I believe I can afford it. Tell me what use you wish to make of -it.” - -“You know Herbert Coleman, papa, the young artist opposite.” - -“A very gentlemanly young man. Well, my dear?” - -“He is in great trouble. His money is exhausted, and because he is so -young and unknown, he cannot sell his picture. He has had an offer from -his uncle to go into a country store to sell groceries, and fears he -must abandon art and accept this offer, for want of money to keep him -here in New York. He told me last evening that if he could only sell his -picture—you have seen it, papa: the ‘Country Farm-house,’ you know—for a -hundred and fifty dollars, he could remain in the city six months -longer.” - -“And you want me to buy the picture, Helen?” - -“Yes, papa.” - -“Very well, but I have not so much ready money. I do not understand such -things. Mr. Sharp will know whether there will be any delay in coming -into possession of this property.” - -“Very little, sir, since there is no opposition to fear from the -opposite party. In the course of a few days——” - -“But he has got to decide to-day,” said Helen. - -“If he is sure of a sale, however, he will wait for the money,” -suggested the lawyer. - -“But there is one thing,” said Helen. “I don’t want Herbert to know just -at first that it is we who have bought his picture.” - -“Leave that to me,” said Mr. Sharp. “I can tell him that I have a -commission from a friend to purchase for him, without mentioning names, -you know.” - -“Yes, that will be just the thing,” said Helen, well satisfied. “Will -you go in now?” - -“By all means, if you desire it.” - -“And I want to go with you,” said Helen. “I want to see how delighted he -will look when he finds his picture is bought. Only please don’t tell -him just yet that we are rich, papa and I.” - -“Be assured, my dear Miss Ford, I will respect your wishes,” said Mr. -Sharp, bowing. “Indeed, I honor you for your kind and generous desire to -assist your struggling friends.” - -“I think, Mr. Sharp,” said Mr. Ford, quietly, “that I will authorize you -to pay Mr. Coleman two hundred dollars for his picture, and to order of -him another at the same price, the subject to be entirely of his own -selection. Do you approve, Helen?” - -“Approve, papa? You are the dearest of all papas. You have made me very -happy.” - -“My dear child,” said her father, affectionately, “I feel that I ought -to do what I can to make you happy. You have been my joy and comfort, -and latterly my support, in the days of my poverty. Henceforth, it shall -be mine to gratify you in all your reasonable desires.” - -“Papa, you embolden me to ask another favor.” - -“Well, Helen?” - -“I will tell you by and by. Now, Mr. Sharp, let us go and see Herbert.” - -“Herbert is a fortunate young man,” thought the lawyer. “He seems in -favor with both father and daughter. If Helen were a little older, who -can tell what would come of it. It will be worth my while to be polite -to the young man.” - - - - - CHAPTER XLII. - HOW YES BECAME NO. - - -Herbert Coleman had finished his scanty and unsatisfying breakfast, and -was seated before his easel, on which was an unfinished picture. He -gazed at it mournfully, for the conviction was deepening in his mind -that he must bid farewell to art. Chosen mistress of his affections, she -had treated him but coldly. She had admitted him to the threshold of her -domain. He was permitted to view the glories in which he must not share. -A career was opened before him, which it would have been his highest -happiness to follow,—in which he could see others making their way -successfully; but Necessity, with stern and forbidding countenance, -waved him back as with a sword. - -Yes, he must bid farewell to art. At the age of twenty-one, he felt that -the happiness of his life was over. Henceforth, he must cherish in his -heart aspirations which he would never be able to realize. He must -descend from the clouds, and plod on in the prosaic way in which his -uncle, with more common tastes, had found happiness and prosperity. But -the transition from art to groceries was indeed great. Yet there seemed -no alternation. If it were possible to find employment for a part of the -day, sufficient to defray expenses reduced to the lowest amount -compatible with health, that would be preferable. But this was -uncertain, and, meanwhile, his purse was almost empty. - -“I might as well accept my uncle’s offer, at once,” he said, to himself, -despondently. “Nothing is likely to turn up in twenty-four hours to -affect my decision. Come, I will write the letter now, and not mail it -till to-morrow.” - -Feeling that his mind would be relieved by taking a decisive step, he -opened his desk, and, taking out a sheet of note-paper, had got as far -as “Dear Uncle,” when there was a little tap at his door. He rose, and, -opening it, discovered Helen and Mr. Sharp. - -“Good morning, Helen,” he said, cheered, he knew not why, by her -expression; “I am glad to see you.” - -“Herbert, you have heard me speak of Mr. Sharp, papa’s friend. He -desires to make your acquaintance.” - -“I am very glad to meet you, Mr. Sharp,” said the young artist, looking -a little curiously at the perpetual white hat, whose general appearance -age had, by no means, improved. - -“Thank you, Mr. Herbert,” said the lawyer, nodding pleasantly. “Excuse -my familiar use of your name, but Miss Helen has not mentioned any -other.” - -“Mr. Coleman, excuse me,” said Helen, blushing a little. “How stupid I -am!” - -“By no means, my dear young lady. But, Mr. Coleman, Miss Helen has told -me that you were an artist, and her commendations of one of your -pictures have excited my interest; and I have come to ask, as a favor, -that you will allow me to look at it.” - -“Certainly, sir. I am afraid, however, that you will find Miss Helen’s -friendship has dulled her critical powers. This is probably the painting -to which you refer.” - -In a moment of despondency, he had turned his painting of the “Country -Farm-house” to the wall. The high hopes which he had formed of its -success, and their signal failure, produced a revulsion of feeling, -which made it unpleasant for him to look at it. - -“This is indeed beautiful!” exclaimed Mr. Sharp, admiringly. (In this -case he was sincere, though, had it been the merest daub, he would have -expressed equal admiration.) “Mr. Coleman, I congratulate you. There are -touches in that painting which indicate genius of a high order. I -predict that you will, ere many years, achieve a high place in the roll -of our native artists.” - -Herbert smiled sadly, and glanced significantly at Helen. This praise, -coming at a time when he had resolved to cut adrift from the profession -of his love, was a source of pain rather than pleasure. He felt the more -that it would be a fatal mistake, but, nevertheless, one that seemed -inevitable. - -Helen’s expression perplexed him. It was one of quiet happiness. Yet she -must know the necessity that was upon him. - -“I like this painting,” continued the lawyer, “chiefly because of its -truth to nature. The highest praise I can give it is that I have seen -precisely such a farm-house. The scene is one familiar to those who know -anything of country-life. May I inquire, Mr. Coleman, whether this -painting is for sale?” - -“Yes, sir,” said Herbert, brightening up a little, though he hardly -judged, from Mr. Sharp’s appearance, that he was likely to become a -patron of art. “Young artists cannot afford to keep their works on hand. -I may add, frankly, that my circumstances are such that I shall be very -glad to find a purchaser.” - -“I don’t ask in my own behalf,” said Mr. Sharp. “Though I am -passionately fond of fine paintings, my means are restricted, and my -professional income will not permit me to indulge in such luxuries. But -I am authorized by one of my clients, to purchase him a painting. He -confides implicitly to my taste. May I inquire what price you set upon -this painting?” - -The young artist’s face brightened up with new-born hope. Perhaps he -might be able to send a negative answer to his uncle, after all. - -“Should you consider fifty dollars too large?” he said, hesitatingly, -fearing lest it might exceed Mr. Sharp’s limit. - -“Fifty dollars, Mr. Coleman! You surely cannot be in earnest.” - -“I am a young artist,” stammered Herbert, “and, perhaps, may have set -too high a value upon my work. You shall have it at your own price.” - -“You mistake me, my young friend, if you will permit me to call you so. -I was only surprised at the lowness of your price. My friend has -authorized me to pay two hundred dollars for such a work as my taste -approves. I shall not think of offering you less for this beautiful -painting.” - -“Two hundred dollars!” exclaimed Herbert, in joyful excitement. “Are you -really in earnest?” - -“Most unquestionably.” - -“I am very grateful to you, sir; you can’t understand how great a -service you have rendered me,” said Herbert, grasping Mr. Sharp’s hand, -and wringing it with cordial energy. “Just as you came in I was on the -point of writing a letter, accepting a proposition which would cut me -off forever from my favorite work.” - -“You won’t write it, now, Herbert?” said Helen, archly. - -“I shall write a different letter, Helen. Once more, Mr. Sharp, let me -thank you.” - -“I do not deserve your thanks. Some day I will introduce you to the real -purchaser of the painting. Meanwhile, I have a commission for you. I am -authorized, by my friend, to order another picture at the same price. -Will you undertake it?” - -“Most willingly; most gratefully.” - -“The subject shall be left to your own taste and judgment.” - -“I hope to deserve this generous confidence.” - -“Perhaps, Herbert, you would rather go into your uncle’s store,” said -Helen, smiling happily. - -“I am afraid Uncle Zebina must look elsewhere for an assistant,” said -the young artist. “I must not forget, dear Helen, that my good fortune -comes through you.” - -“You have been very kind to me, Herbert. I hope I shall be able to do -more for you hereafter.” - -“I regret, Mr. Coleman,” said the lawyer, “that I am unable to pay you -this morning for your painting. I hope to be able to pay you next week.” - -“That will be quite satisfactory, sir.” - -“Meanwhile, as one who understands the world a little better than -yourself, to suggest that, if your painting could be on exhibition a few -days,—at Goupil’s, for instance,—with the name of the artist, and the -label, ‘Sold,’ it might be of assistance to you. It will give the -impression that your works are in demand.” - -“A most excellent suggestion, for which I thank you. If your friend -would be willing?” - -“I undertake to engage that there will be no objection. Depend upon it, -my young friend, there is nothing succeeds so well as success.” - -“You may be sure, sir, that I appreciate your friendly feeling no less -than the liberal patronage I have received through you. You have -probably determined my future.” - -“That will be a source of proud satisfaction to me, Mr. Coleman,” said -the lawyer. “Let me suggest that you lose no time in making an -arrangement to exhibit your painting, as proposed. It might do no harm -to affix the price for which it was sold.” - -“Thank you, sir. It is well thought of. I shall certainly adopt your -suggestion.” - -“I believe I must now bid you good morning,” said the lawyer. “I have -important business on hand, and have been beguiled already into -remaining here too long. Good morning, Miss Helen. I shall take a very -early opportunity to call again upon you and your worthy father. You -will hear from me before long, Mr. Coleman, in a way that will, I trust, -prove satisfactory to you.” - -Mr. Sharp bowed his way down stairs, leaving two happy hearts behind -him. He, too, was in excellent spirits. As Mr. Ford’s man of business, -he would be liberally paid, and no longer be reduced to those shifts to -which, in times past, he had been compelled to resort, for the purpose -of “getting along.” - -Helen lingered a moment after the lawyer departed. - -“Now to finish Uncle Zebina’s letter,” said Herbert, briskly. “It will -be a letter different from what I anticipated.” - -The letter ran as follows:— - - “DEAR UNCLE ZEBINA: I thank you for your very kind offer, though I - shall be unable to accept it. I feel that I shall be happier as an - artist, than I could be in any other vocation. I am confident that - you will have no difficulty in securing an assistant who will suit - you better than I should do. Give my love to aunt Desire. Tell her - and all my friends that I hope to see them all at Thanksgiving. - - “Your affectionate nephew, - “HERBERT COLEMAN. - - “P. S. I have just sold a painting for two hundred dollars, and - have an order for another at the same price.” - -This letter, it may be remarked, more especially the postscript, made -quite a sensation in Herbert’s country home; and Uncle Zebina allowed -that perhaps Herbert was doing better, after all, than if he had become -a house painter. - - - - - CHAPTER XLIII. - MARTHA GREY IS SURPRISED. - - -Lewis Rand submitted to what was inevitable, and, as Mr. Sharp -predicted, interposed no obstacles in the way of a division of the -property. He chose to retain in his own share the house and furniture of -the late Mr. Rand, foreseeing that the house would rise annually in -value. The remainder of the property consisted partly of real estate, -but mainly of stocks and bonds. This rendered the division easy. At the -end of ten days, Mr. Sharp was in a situation to deliver to his client -the title to three houses situated in different parts of the city, and a -quarter of a million in bank and railway shares. - -Until matters were concluded, Helen desired that the fact of their good -fortune should be kept strictly private. Neither Martha nor Herbert -suspected that their humble neighbors had fallen heirs to a princely -fortune. - -One of the three houses referred to was situated in Twenty-second -Street. It was nearly new, and thoroughly furnished. Fortunately, it had -just been vacated by a family on the point of visiting Europe for a -series of years. By Mr. Sharp’s advice, negotiations for the purchase of -the furniture were entered into and satisfactorily completed. To this -house Helen and her father proposed to remove. - -Thanks to Helen’s good care, and the rest which she so much needed, -Martha Grey had quite recovered from the attack brought on by excessive -labor. She was anxious to resume work, but Helen had succeeded in -putting her off. - -“I shall certainly begin to-morrow,” said Martha, one evening. “I cannot -consent longer to remain a burden upon you.” - -“But if I were rich,” said Helen, with a smile. - -“That would be different.” - -“Well, Martha, I may become rich some day.” - -“I hope you will, my dear child.” - -“But you don’t expect it. Yet stranger things have happened. Now, -Martha, I have a promise to exact of you. When I am rich, will you come -and live with me?” - -Martha smiled. - -“Yes, Helen, _when_ you are rich, I will come and live with you.” - -“Mind you don’t forget your promise. I may remind you of it some day.” - -“Poor child!” thought Martha. “She means, when her father has completed -his invention. I am afraid it will be a long time before that will bring -her a fortune.” - -The next morning, Martha was sitting in her little rocking-chair, busy -at her sewing, when Helen came in with a smile. - -“Put down that sewing directly, Martha,” she said. “I have another plan -for to-day.” - -“But, my dear child, I must disobey you this time. It is quite time that -I was again at work.” - -“You can put off your sewing for a couple of hours. Mr. Sharp has been -kind enough to invite you and papa and myself to take a ride.” - -“He is very kind,” said Martha. “I don’t know why he should think of -me.” - -“Perhaps he thought it would do you good. He knew you had been sick.” - -“But I have nothing fit to wear.” - -“Am I very richly dressed?” - -“No, but——” - -“No objections, Martha. Get your bonnet and shawl directly.” - -It was a beautiful morning,—an Indian summer day,—the air balmy and -sweet as a day in early June. The seamstress yielded not unwillingly to -the solicitations of Helen, and was quickly dressed for the drive. - -Mr. Sharp was waiting below with a carriage. - -“Good morning, Miss Grey,” he said, with his usual suavity; “I am truly -glad to see that you have recovered from your illness. You are a little -pale yet, but I hope we shall succeed in bringing back the roses to your -cheek.” - -“I am very much obliged to you for kindly remembering me, Mr. Sharp,” -said Martha. “It is a charming day. I assure you I shall enjoy the -drive.” - -“It seems to me,” thought M’lle Fanchette, looking from her window, -“that the Fords are growing extravagant. Such airs as that child puts -on, merely because she sings in a theatre! and bless my soul, there’s -the seamstress, Martha Grey, too! She’d better be at work. There’s the -lawyer, too. It can’t be possible he is paying attentions to Helen Ford. -No, she’s too young for that. Or is it Martha Grey? If it’s she, I don’t -admire his taste, that’s all. She is most an old woman, and never had -any beauty to boast of. (Martha was three years younger than M’lle -Fanchette.) Well, well, its a queer world. That Helen may lose her -situation by and by,—I’m sure, I don’t think much of her singing,—and -then we sha’n’t have such gay doings.” - -By this time the carriage had driven away, and M’lle Fanchette prepared -to go to her shop. - -Our party did not at once drive to Twenty-second street, but farther up -on the island, through that portion of the city, then wholly unsettled, -which is now occupied by the Central Park. It was a charming morning. -Helen was in the best of spirits, and even Mr. Ford forgot, for the -time, his invention, and drank in the sweet influences of the day. To -Martha, confined in her room for so long, whose only prospect had been -the brick wall opposite, it seemed like a dream of Paradise. Memories of -her childhood came back to her, and her eyes involuntarily filled with -tears as she thought of that sweet, unforgotten time. Mr. Sharp was in -excellent spirits, livelier, and more affable even than usual, and kept -up the spirits of the party by his jocular remarks. - -At length the carriage stopped. - -The driver jumped from his seat, and threw open the door of the -carriage. - -“We haven’t got home?” said Martha, a little bewildered. - -“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” said Helen; “Mr. Sharp has invited us to -look over a house which he has just secured for some friends of his.” - -“What a handsome house!” said Martha. “They must be rich people.” - -“Yes,” said Mr. Sharp, with an incomprehensible smile, “I assure you -that they are quite rich.” - -“They wouldn’t object to our visit?” asked Martha, timidly. - -“O no, not at all. In fact they gave me permission to bring you here.” - -By this time they had entered the hall, and went in first to inspect the -parlors. These were furnished in the style appropriate to such a house. -To Martha, who had never before entered a house of such pretensions, it -seemed very magnificent, and even palatial. - -After they had examined the rooms on the lower floor they went up -stairs. The chambers were furnished with equal taste. Helen felt that it -would take some time to get accustomed to such a style of living after -her humble lodgings at Mother Morton’s. - -“I like this room very much,” said Martha. It was a broad, spacious -chamber with a sunny aspect, very pleasant and home-like in its -appearance. - -“You would be willing to give up your room at Mrs. Morton’s if you could -have this?” inquired Helen. - -“If I could have as agreeable neighbors,” said Martha, with a smile. - -“Very well,” said Helen, “I will take you at your word. You shall occupy -this room.” - -“What do you mean, Helen?” asked Martha, in surprise. - -“I mean that it only depends upon your own consent to exchange your -present room for this.” - -“I don’t understand,” said Martha, bewildered. - -“Then I will explain. The mistress of this house, who is a friend of Mr. -Sharp, is desirous of securing a companion, and will take you if you -will come.” - -“Perhaps she may not like me.” - -“I think there is no doubt on that point; do you papa?” - -“No, I believe not,” said Mr. Ford. - -“Then you will consent, Martha. You will be secure against want, and -will have every comfort provided you.” - -“It will be great good fortune for me,” said Martha. “But I cannot bear -the thought of being separated from you, Helen.” - -“You may learn to like the lady I refer to as well as me.” - -“Never!” said Martha, with emphasis. - -“Make no rash promises,” said Helen, “I shall be very much disappointed -if you do not.” - -“If I could see this lady.” - -“So you shall. You will find her in the next room.” - -More mystified than ever, Martha accompanied Helen into the next room. -There was a large pier glass extending from floor to ceiling. Helen led -the seamstress up to it, and standing beside her said, “There, Martha, -there is the lady who invites you to be her companion.” - -“But I see only yourself.” - -“Well, and I am the one,” said Helen, smiling. - -Then Helen explained to her astonished and delighted auditor the great -change that had taken place in her circumstances. No longer obliged to -toil for her daily bread, she would henceforth live in affluence. - -“God has been very good to us, Martha,” she said, in conclusion. “I hope -we shall not forget, in the happiness of the present, the poverty of the -past. I hope we shall use His gift as He would have us.” - -“Dear Helen, I am sure you will.” - -“And you will come and live with me? I should be very lonely in this -large house without a friend to lean upon. Dear Martha, it shall not be -my fault if your future is not as sunny as your past has been dark.” - -“How much happiness I shall owe you!” said Martha, with grateful tears. - -“Hush, Martha,” said Helen, softly. “Do not thank me, for my happiness -will be no less.” - -That evening the household at Mother Morton’s was electrified by the -announcement that Helen Ford had turned out a great heiress, and that -Martha Grey was going to live with her. On the morrow Helen and her -father transferred their home from their humble lodgings to -Twenty-second Street. - -“If I had only known,” thought M’lle Fanchette, regretfully, “I might -have been in that sickly Martha Grey’s place. But who could ever have -imagined that Helen Ford would turn out a rich woman? Well, it’s too -late now!” - -And M’lle Fanchette had to content herself with this philosophical -reflection. - - - - - CHAPTER XLIV. - HELEN TAKES LEAVE OF THE STAGE. - - -The next morning Helen, on reaching the theatre, sought the presence of -Mr. Bowers. - -The manager was seated in his office, as usual. He nodded carelessly as -Helen entered, but did not invite her to be seated. - -“Well, Miss Ford,” he said, after a while. “What can I do for you, this -morning?” - -“I should like to have you release me from my engagement, if you please, -Mr. Bowers.” - -“Release you from your engagement!” ejaculated the astonished manager. -Then, in a tone of indignation, “I suppose you have had a larger offer -elsewhere.” - -“No, sir.” - -“What can be your motive, then? I beg you to understand, Miss Ford, that -a contract is a contract, and must be kept. Of course your place could -be supplied, but it is annoying to make a change in the middle of the -season.” - -This last remark was thrown in, lest Helen should presume upon her value -to the establishment to demand a higher salary. Indeed, the manager -suspected that this was her object, and wished to anticipate her. - -“I was afraid it might inconvenience you,” said Helen, gently; “and am -willing, in requital, to refund the whole amount of wages that I have -received from you.” - -Mr. Bowers stared at Helen in undisguised astonishment. She must have -had a very brilliant offer to warrant her in making such a proposal. - -“Did I understand that you have had no other engagement offered you?” he -inquired, abruptly. - -“No, sir. I do not wish to sing any more in public.” - -“It will pay you better than anything else you can do.” - -“I ought to explain that I have had a fortune left me, or rather papa -has, and under our new circumstances it would be inconvenient for me to -come to the theatre every evening.” - -“Indeed, Miss Ford!” said Mr. Bowers, his tone changing. “I congratulate -you. I hope, for your sake, it is a large fortune.” - -“Mr. Sharp tells me that it will be a few hundred thousand dollars,” -said Helen, simply, without the least trace of exultation in her tone. - -“A few hundred thousand dollars!” exclaimed Mr. Bowers, in profound -astonishment. “Pray, take a seat, my dear Miss Ford. Hang my stupidity, -why didn’t I think to offer you one before?” - -And Mr. Bowers bustled about, and offered Helen a seat with as much -deference as if she were a duchess. It was easy to see that she had -risen immeasurably in his estimation. - -“Did the property come from a relation?” he asked. - -“Yes, sir; from my grandfather.” - -“Was his name the same with yours, Miss Ford?” - -“No, sir. His name was Rand.” - -“Not the late Gerald Rand?” - -“Yes, sir.” - -“Why he was one of our most substantial citizens—lived on Fifth Avenue. -And to think I should have had his granddaughter singing in my theatre! -Well, wonders will never cease.” - -“If it wouldn’t inconvenience you too much to release me,” said Helen, -returning to her petition; “I like to be with papa in the evening. He is -lonely without me.” - -“By all means, Miss Ford, I would oblige you even were the inconvenience -ten times as great,” said Mr. Bowers, obsequiously. - -“Thank you, sir; you are very kind. I shall be willing to sing for you -the rest of the week, so as to give you time to find some one to fill my -place.” - -“Will you?” asked the manager, eagerly, seeing at once how he might turn -Helen’s accession of fortune to profitable account; “you will indeed -confer a great favor upon me by so doing. It will take me some time to -fill your place, and I cannot hope to obtain a substitute who will -become such a favorite with the public.” - -“Thank you, sir,” said Helen, rising to go. “Then I will go to -rehearsal.” - -“Thank you rather, my dear Miss Ford,” said the manager, rising from his -seat and opening the door for her. “I shall not forget your kindness.” - -Helen could not help wondering a little at the change in the manager’s -manner, and, unversed as she was in the ways of the world, she could not -help seeing that it was the result of her change of circumstances. - -Meanwhile the manager was not idle. The morning papers contained the -following paragraph, the authorship of which may at least be suspected. - - ROMANCE IN REAL LIFE. We understand that Miss Helen Ford, the - young vocalist whose charming melodies have made her such a - popular favorite, has just come into possession of a splendid - fortune, inherited from her grandfather, Gerald Rand, Esq., the - well-known capitalist, whose death was recently noticed in our - columns. Miss Ford has kindly agreed to sing as usual through the - present week, when she will leave the stage forever. - -The effect of this paragraph may be imagined. That evening hundreds were -turned away from the theatre, which was crowded to its utmost capacity. -Never had such an audience been seen within its walls. When Helen -appeared on the stage, quite unaware of the paragraph which had produced -this effect, she was received with long-continued applause. The vast -audience seemed inspired with a sudden enthusiasm. - -Helen was surprised, but did not lose her self-possession. She sang with -her usual sweetness, and was immediately encored. Again she sang, and -this time was called before the curtain. Several bouquets were thrown -her, which she picked up, and hastily withdrew. - -If Helen had been older, she would have understood the meaning of this -ovation. As it was, she only wondered. - -Behind the curtain she met the manager, smiling, and rubbing his hands -in evident glee. - -“My dear Miss Ford,” he said, “this is indeed a triumph.” - -“The house is very full,” said Helen. - -“And hundreds turned away; never was such a house seen.” - -“I am very glad of it,” said Helen. - -“So am I; let me see, this is Tuesday evening. Friday you shall have a -benefit. One third of the receipts. It is only fair, since you have -drawn this immense audience.” - -Helen would have declined the offer, but for a sudden thought. When she -first became connected with the theatre she noticed a thin fragile girl, -who danced between the plays. The exertion was evidently too great for -her, for she was often seized with a violent fit of coughing after -withdrawing from the stage. For a fortnight Helen had missed her. On -inquiry, she learned that Alice (this was her name) was sick. “Poor -girl,” added the prompter, who was her informant, “it is a great -misfortune, for she has an invalid sister who is dependent upon her for -support. I am afraid she won’t get along very well, for her salary was -small, and now it is cut off altogether.” - -It occurred to Helen that she could give the proceeds of her benefit to -Alice. She accordingly thanked Mr. Bowers, and accepted his proposal. - -The week was a series of triumphs. Every evening the doors of the -theatre were besieged, and every evening hundreds were turned away. - -Friday evening,—the evening of her benefit,—Helen found the house -fuller, if possible, than before, the manager had taken the opportunity, -in consequence of the great demand for seats, to raise temporarily the -price of admission. As he anticipated, this did not in the least -diminish the throngs who crowded for admittance. - -On Saturday morning he handed Helen a check for five hundred dollars, as -her share of the proceeds. - -Helen’s eyes sparkled with joy, as she thought of the happiness which -this sum would bring to the poor ballet girl. - -She lost no time in seeking her out. - -It was indeed a poor place, Helen would have been afraid of venturing -into such a locality if she had not been accompanied by Herbert Coleman. - -Up a rickety staircase she climbed, and was shown, by an untidy woman, -into a room wholly destitute of comforts, where on a pallet reclined -Alice and her sister, both sick. - -“Is that you, Miss Ford?” asked Alice, her face lighting up. “How very -kind you are to come and see me!” - -“I am very sorry to find you so sick,” said Helen. - -“I don’t think I am very sick,” said Alice. “But this is but a poor -place, and I cannot get any one to take care of my sister Jennie. She -has been an invalid for years.” - -“There are better times in store,” said Helen, cheerfully, “First we -must have you moved to a better room. Next you must have a nurse.” - -“But,” said Alice, hesitatingly, “we are very poor. I never had anything -but my salary to depend upon, and now that is cut off.” - -Helen stooped and whispered a few words in her ear. - -“Five hundred dollars!” repeated Alice, in astonishment, “that is a -fortune. Who has been so generous?” - -“Never mind!” said Helen, smiling. “You see, then, that you are not so -poor as you imagined. Now do you think, if I sent a carriage for you in -the course of the afternoon, you can move?” - -“Yes,” said Alice, in a tone of deep thankfulness. “No one can tell how -much I detest this horrible place. I think it will make me well only to -move.” - -Over the wasted face of her sister there stole an expression of deep and -thankful joy. - -“I think you are an angel,” she said, looking up into Helen’s beautiful -face, radiant with sympathy. - -Helen blushed. - -“How pleasant it is to be able to make others happy!” she said, softly, -to Herbert. - -“Do you know, Helen,” said the young artist, “I am half tempted to agree -with your patient there.” - -“Brother Herbert,” said Helen, quickly, “you must not speak so. I am -only doing what you would do in my place. I don’t like to be praised for -only doing what is pleasant to me.” - -Before night Alice and her sister were installed in a -comfortably-furnished room, with a nurse in attendance, who was directed -to do whatever was needful for the comfort and relief of her patients. - - - - - CHAPTER XLV. - TO CONCLUDE. - - -Four years slipped by. - -Let us note, briefly, the changes which they brought, and then farewell! - -To Helen they were years of quiet happiness, of steady improvement. -There were many deficiencies in her education to be made up. With the -aid of private instructors, the best of their kind, she strove earnestly -to acquire the knowledge for which she had long thirsted. Her father was -unwilling to send her away to school, since this must deprive him of her -society, on which he had learned to depend. Nor was Helen less unwilling -to leave the father who had called forth from her so rare and beautiful -a devotion. Year by year her mind has expanded, while her rare -loveliness has, if possible, been enhanced. Helen, at nineteen, is even -more charming than at fifteen. - -There are some who have found this out, and Helen has had repeated -offers of marriage. All these she has gently but firmly refused. Not one -has succeeded in touching her heart. - -Among her suitors was one whom she treated with less ceremony. A young -man, who had nearly run through a large fortune, paid assiduous court to -Helen, whom he had met in society, and in spite of her coldness made a -declaration of love. - -Helen looked up from the carpet on which her eyes had been fixed, and -said, quietly, “Do you remember, Mr. Grover, where we first met?” - -“At Mrs. Grosvenor’s party,” answered the young man, somewhat surprised. - -“You are mistaken. That was only three months since. Our first meeting -dates back four years.” - -“Thank you for remembering it. Yet I can hardly believe you correct. -Your face is not one to be forgotten. Are you quite sure?” - -“Yes, I remember you perfectly.” - -There was something in Helen’s manner which the young man could not -quite fathom. It made him uneasy, for Helen’s grave tone rendered it -doubtful whether the recollection was a pleasant one. - -“May I ask where, and under what circumstances, we met?” he inquired. - -“I was, at that time, singing at the —— Theatre,” returned Helen, -composedly. “You followed me in the street when on my return home, and -sought to force your company upon me. But for the opportune arrival of a -friend, I should have been obliged to submit to the insult.” - -“Good heavens!” ejaculated Albert Grover, “are you the young singer who -made such a sensation? I cannot understand it.” - -“Fortunes have changed with me,” said Helen. “Otherwise, I can well -understand that you would never have honored me with your proposal of -this morning. I think, Mr. Grover, you will hardly require any other -answer.” - -She left the room with dignity, leaving her suitor crestfallen, and -entirely satisfied of the hopelessness of his suit. - -Meanwhile, where was Herbert Coleman? - -Shortly after Mr. Ford’s accession to fortune, he sent for the young -artist at Helen’s instigation, and questioned him delicately as to his -plans and wishes. Herbert acknowledged frankly his conviction, that a -residence in Italy, the cradle of art, would be of inestimable advantage -to him in his professional career. - -“I have thought of that,” said Mr. Ford, “and as Providence has blessed -me with abundant means I have determined to enable you to gratify your -desire. I do not wish to compromise your independence, and therefore I -will not offer to give you the requisite sum. I should be glad to have -copies of some of the masterpieces of Italian art. I am willing to -invest five thousand dollars in this way. I will give you the -commission. This will enable you to spend three years abroad. Here is a -check for a thousand dollars. The balance I authorize you to draw upon -me for as you need it.” - -“Sir,” said Herbert, with joyful emotion, “your generosity overwhelms -me. I cannot express to you how happy you have made me. I hope that I -shall prove deserving of such kindness.” - -“You must thank Helen,” said Mr. Ford. “She suggested this to me; though -I think she will do me the justice to acknowledge that she did not find -me very difficult to persuade.” - -“Dear Helen,” said the young artist, turning to the young girl whose -beaming face expressed how heartily she sympathized in his joy, “I am -not surprised to hear this. It is so like you.” - -“Don’t say any more, Herbert,” said Helen, softly. “That repays me.” - -Herbert’s residence in Italy has been protracted somewhat beyond the -three years originally intended. He has already sent home several -paintings, originals, as well as copies, which prove conclusively that -he has not mistaken his vocation. He has corresponded regularly with -Helen, and she is eagerly expecting his return in the next steamer. They -have tacitly dropped the old designations of brother and sister. Knowing -what we do of their feelings towards each other, we need not be -surprised if they are bound some day by a nearer tie. Mr. Ford, I am -assured, will interpose no objection, feeling that genius and nobility -of soul far outweigh the mere accident of riches. - -Mr. Ford has long since given up his invention as impracticable. He has -gathered about him a rich library in which he spends the hours formerly -given to science. A year since he laid out the plan of a large work in -the department of mechanics upon which he is hard at work. It will -probably require some years to complete it. - -Mr. Sharp still acts as the business agent of Mr. Ford, and through his -influence has obtained other business, so that he is now in receipt of a -very comfortable income. Justice compels me to state that in spite of -his not very creditable antecedents, he serves Mr. Ford with ability and -fidelity, and exhibits a good judgment in his management of money -matters, which perhaps could hardly have been expected. He is not -entirely rid of his “idiosyncrasies,” but these are now of a harmless -nature. He no longer runs up bills which he is unable to liquidate, and -has ceased to exercise his professional sharpness on the newsboys. - -Martha Grey still finds a home with Helen, and is her tried and -confidential friend. She is no longer obliged to labor hard for a scanty -remuneration. Her “lines have fallen in pleasant places.” Privation and -discomfort have been succeeded by ease and luxury. A month since she was -surprised by a proposal of marriage from Mr. Sharp. She refused him -gently, telling him that she should never marry. I do not think she -will. She has never recovered from an early disappointment, which, -without robbing her of happiness, has made it impossible for her to love -again. Mr. Sharp has resigned himself to his rejection with commendable -philosophy. There is reason to believe that he was actuated less by a -romantic attachment, than by the thought that Martha, as the intimate -friend of Helen, would not come to him a portionless bride. He has -already so far recovered from his disappointment, that he is paying -devoted attentions to a wealthy widow, who seems disposed to smile upon -his suit, whose “idiosyncrasies” of temper are such, that success would -indeed be disastrous. I have had some qualms of conscience, in rewarding -Mr. Sharp with such a measure of worldly prosperity, feeling that he -ought rather to have been punished than recompensed; but if he should -persevere in his present suit, and eventually succeed, I feel that the -sternest advocate of “poetical justice” may well be satisfied. - -Mrs. Morton still keeps her boarding-house, and still meets with a fair -share of patronage. Helen occasionally calls upon her. She has not -forgotten her kindness in the days when she stood in need of a friend. -M’lle Fanchette is still one of her lodgers. She does not grow old, -having been twenty-seven for the last fifteen years. She brings her -charms to bear upon each successive lodger whom she regards as eligible, -but no one has yet had the courage to propose. There is reason to -believe that she will remain Mademoiselle to the end of this chapter. - -Margaret and Jacob Wynne! I name Margaret first, for hers is the nobler -nature. Jacob’s brief imprisonment had a most salutary influence upon -him. He no longer upbraids without reason, nor arouses her quick -jealousy by his neglect. Mr. Ford (after all we prefer the old name) -throws considerable business into his hands, and this, with what he -obtains from other quarters, gives him a comfortable support. It would -be difficult to recognize in Margaret, with her quiet look, and subdued -demeanor, the wild, wayward, desperate woman, who made her way through -the fierce storm to her mother’s dwelling. - -Immediately after the division of the estate, Lewis Rand went to Europe, -where he has remained ever since. His feelings are so imbittered against -his cousin, that he has refused to answer a letter containing overtures -of reconciliation. He makes his head-quarters at Paris, where he lives -in elegant style, and receives the homage which wealth always commands. -But does he find in his riches the full satisfaction which he -anticipated? I answer, no. He finds, too late, that happiness must be -earned; it can never be bought. To those who, like Helen, consecrate -their lives to the noblest objects, and study to promote the happiness -of all around them, the blessing comes unsought. For the love that -stimulates to good deeds, is like mercy “twice blest; it blesseth him -that gives and him that takes.” - -And so, reader, farewell! What remains in store for Helen Ford, whether -of joy or of sorrow, it is not mine to read. Let us hope that her life -may brighten continually till its close; that her years, whether few or -many, may be made happy by the consciousness of duty well performed; -that she may dispense liberally unto others of the good gifts with which -God has crowned her, and make her life a benefaction to humanity! - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - HORATIO ALGER, JR. - - -The enormous sales of the books of Horatio Alger, Jr., show the -greatness of his popularity among the boys, and prove that he is one of -their most favored writers. I am told that more than half a million -copies altogether have been sold, and that all the large circulating -libraries in the country have several complete sets, of which only two -or three volumes are ever on the shelves at one time. If this is true, -what thousands and thousands of boys have read and are reading Mr. -Alger’s books! His peculiar style of stories, often imitated but never -equaled, have taken a hold upon the young people, and, despite their -similarity, are eagerly read as soon as they appear. - -Mr. Alger became famous with the publication of that undying book, -“Ragged Dick, or Street Life in New York.” It was his first book for -young people, and its success was so great that he immediately devoted -himself to that kind of writing. It was a new and fertile field for a -writer then, and Mr. Alger’s treatment of it at once caught the fancy of -the boys. “Ragged Dick” first appeared in 1868, and ever since then it -has been selling steadily, until now it is estimated that about 200,000 -copies of the series have been sold. - - —“Pleasant Hours for Boys and Girls.” - - * * * * * - -A writer for boys should have an abundant sympathy with them. He should -be able to enter into their plans, hopes, and aspirations. He should -learn to look upon life as they do. Boys object to be written down to. A -boy’s heart opens to the man or writer who understands him. - -—From “Writing Stories for Boys,” by Horatio Alger, Jr. - - - RAGGED DICK SERIES. - - 6 vols. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $6.00 - - Ragged Dick. - Fame and Fortune. - Mark the Match Boy. - Rough and Ready. - Ben the Luggage Boy. - Rufus and Rose. - - - TATTERED TOM SERIES—First Series. - - 4 vols. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $4.00 - - Tattered Tom. - Paul the Peddler. - Phil the Fiddler. - Slow and Sure. - - - TATTERED TOM SERIES—Second Series. - - 4 vols. $4.00 - - Julius. - The Young Outlaw. - Sara’s Chance. - The Telegraph Boy. - - - CAMPAIGN SERIES. - - 3 vols. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $3.00 - - Frank’s Campaign. - Charlie Codman’s Cruise. - Paul Prescott’s Charge. - - - LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES—First Series. - - 4 vols. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $4.00 - - Luck and Pluck. - Sink or Swim. - Strong and Steady. - Strive and Succeed. - - - LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES—Second Series. - - 4 vols. $4.00 - - Try and Trust. - Bound to Rise. - Risen from the Ranks. - Herbert Carter’s Legacy. - - - BRAVE AND BOLD SERIES. - - 4 vols. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $4.00 - - Brave and Bold. - Jack’s Ward. - Shifting for Himself. - Wait and Hope. - - - VICTORY SERIES. - - 3 vols. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $3.00 - - Only an Irish Boy. - Adrift in the City. - Victor Vane, or the Young Secretary. - - - FRANK AND FEARLESS SERIES. - - 3 vols. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $3.00 - - Frank Hunter’s Peril. - Frank and Fearless. - The Young Salesman. - - - GOOD FORTUNE LIBRARY., - - 3 vols. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $3.00 - - Walter Sherwood’s Probation. - A Boy’s Fortune. - The Young Bank Messenger. - - - HOW TO RISE LIBRARY. - - 3 vols. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $3.00 - - Jed, the Poorhouse Boy. - Rupert’s Ambition. - Lester’s Luck. - - COMPLETE CATALOG OF BEST BOOKS FOR BOYS AND GIRLS - MAILED ON APPLICATION TO THE PUBLISHERS - THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO., PHILADELPHIA - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - J. T. TROWBRIDGE. - -Neither as a writer does he stand apart from the great currents of life -and select some exceptional phase or odd combination of circumstances. -He stands on the common level and appeals to the universal heart, and -all that he suggests or achieves is on the plane and in the line of -march of the great body of humanity. - -The Jack Hazard series of stories, published in the late _Our Young -Folks_, and continued in the first volume of _St. Nicholas_, under the -title of “Fast Friends,” is no doubt destined to hold a high place in -this class of literature. The delight of the boys in them (and of their -seniors, too) is well founded. They go to the right spot every time. -Trowbridge knows the heart of a boy like a book, and the heart of a man, -too, and he has laid them both open in these books in a most successful -manner. Apart from the qualities that render the series so attractive to -all young readers, they have great value on account of their -portraitures of American country life and character. The drawing is -wonderfully accurate, and as spirited as it is true. The constable, -Sellick, is an original character, and as minor figures where will, we -find anything better than Miss Wansey, and Mr. P. Pipkin, Esq. The -picture of Mr. Dink’s school, too, is capital, and where else in fiction -is there a better nick-name than that the boys gave to poor little -Stephen Treadwell, “Step Hen,” as he himself pronounced his name in an -unfortunate moment when he saw it in print for the first time in his -lesson in school. - -On the whole, these books are very satisfactory, and afford the critical -reader the rare pleasure of the works that are just adequate, that -easily fulfill themselves and accomplish all they set out to -do.—_Scribner’s Monthly._ - - - - - THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO.’S POPULAR JUVENILES. - - - JACK HAZARD SERIES. - - 6 vols. By J. T. TROWBRIDGE $7.25 - - Jack Hazard and His Fortunes. - The Young Surveyor. - Fast Friends. - Doing His Best. - A Chance for Himself. - Lawrence’s Adventures. - - - CHARLES ASBURY STEPHENS. - -This author wrote his “Camping Out Series” at the very height of his -mental and physical powers. - - “We do not wonder at the popularity of these books; there is a - freshness and variety about them, and an enthusiasm in the - description of sport and adventure, which even the older folk can - hardly fail to share.”—_Worcester Spy._ - - “The author of the Camping Out Series is entitled to rank - as decidedly at the head of what may be called boys’ - literature.”—_Buffalo Courier._ - - - CAMPING OUT SERIES. - By C. A. STEPHENS. - -All books in this series are 12mo. with eight full page illustrations. -Cloth, extra, 75 cents. - -CAMPING OUT. As Recorded by “Kit.” - - “This book is bright, breezy, wholesome, instructive, and stands - above the ordinary boys’ books of the day by a whole head and - shoulders.”—_The Christian Register_, Boston. - -LEFT ON LABRADOR; OR, THE CRUISE OF THE SCHOONER YACHT “CURLEW.” As - Recorded by “Wash.” - - “The perils of the voyagers, the narrow escapes, their strange - expedients, and the fun and jollity when danger had passed, will - make boys even unconscious of hunger.”—_New Bedford Mercury._ - -OFF TO THE GEYSERS; OR THE YOUNG YACHTERS IN ICELAND. As Recorded by - “Wade.” - - “It is difficult, to believe that Wade and Read and Kit and Wash - were not live boys, sailing up Hudson Straits, and reigning - temporarily over an Esquimaux tribe.”—_The Independent_, New York. - -LYNX HUNTING: From Notes by the Author of “Camping Out.” - - “Of _first quality_ as a boys’ book, and fit to take its place - beside the best.”—_Richmond Enquirer._ - -FOX HUNTING. As Recorded by “Read.” - - “The most spirited and entertaining book that has as yet appeared. - It overflows with incident, and is characterized by dash and - brilliancy throughout.”—_Boston Gazette._ - -ON THE AMAZON; OR, THE CRUISE OF THE “RAMBLER.” As Recorded by “Wash.” - - “Gives vivid pictures of Brazilian adventure and - scenery.”—_Buffalo Courier._ - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - THE RENOWNED STANDARD JUVENILES - BY EDWARD S. ELLIS - - -Edward S. Ellis is regarded as the later day Cooper. His books will -always be read for the accurate pen pictures of pioneer life they -portray. - - - LIST OF TITLES - - - DEERFOOT SERIES - - Hunters of the Ozark. - The Last War Trail. - Camp in the Mountains. - - - LOG CABIN SERIES - - Lost Trail. - Footprints in the Forest. - Camp Fire and Wigwam. - - - BOY PIONEER SERIES - - Ned in the Block-House. - Ned on the River. - Ned in the Woods. - - - THE NORTHWEST SERIES - - Two Boys in Wyoming. - Cowmen and Rustlers. - A Strange Craft and Its Wonderful Voyage. - - - BOONE AND KENTON SERIES - - Shod with Silence. - In the Days of the Pioneers. - Phantom of the River. - - - WAR CHIEF SERIES - - Red Eagle. - Blazing Arrow. - Iron Heart, War Chief of the Iroquois. - - - THE NEW DEERFOOT SERIES - - Deerfoot in the Forest. - Deerfoot on the Prairie. - Deerfoot in the Mountains. - - - TRUE GRIT SERIES - - Jim and Joe. - Dorsey, the Young Inventor. - Secret of Coffin Island. - - - GREAT AMERICAN SERIES - - Teddy and Towser; or, Early Days in California. - Up the Forked River. - - - COLONIAL SERIES - - An American King. - The Cromwell of Virginia. - The Last Emperor of the Old Dominion. - - - FOREIGN ADVENTURE SERIES - - Lost in the Forbidden Land. - River and Jungle. - The Hunt of the White Elephant. - - - PADDLE YOUR OWN CANOE SERIES - - The Forest Messengers. - The Mountain Star. - Queen of the Clouds. - - - ARIZONA SERIES - - Off the Reservation; or, Caught in an Apache Raid. - Trailing Geronimo; or, Campaigning with Crook. - The Round-Up; or, Geronimo’s Last Raid. - - - OTHER TITLES IN PREPARATION - - PRICE $1.00 PER VOLUME Sold separately and in set - -Complete Catalogue of Famous Alger Books, Celebrated Castlemon Books and -Renowned Ellis Books mailed on application. - - THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO. PHILADELPHIA, PA. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES - - - 1. Changed ‘thought’ to ‘though’ on p. 203. - 2. Changed ‘bands’ to ‘hands’ on p. 256. - 3. Changed ‘kind’ to ‘kindly’ on p. 288. - 4. Silently corrected typographical errors. - 5. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed. - 6. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Helen Ford, by Horatio Alger Jr. - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HELEN FORD *** - -***** This file should be named 53868-0.txt or 53868-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/8/6/53868/ - -Produced by Richard Tonsing, David Edwards and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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