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Entered According to Act of Concress, in the Your 1877, by Streok & Smith, in the Office of the Librarian

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pn aoe ww

Vou. XXXII

STREET & SMITH, j
Proprietors, }

 

 

BY METTA SNYDER BENSOR.

What matters it though winter woodlands
Are desolate and drear;

4nd what though their leaves are wind biewn,
Scattered so brown and sere ?

Surély the spriny-time willSring them
Blossoms and icaflets green ;

And song-birds sing when sunshine talid
Their bannered boughs between.

What though some hearts are desolaka,
Their hopes wind-blown alway ?

4oad what though some rough natures
Go clad in hodden-gray ?

What though regal brows are crownkeds,
Who sing their songs in the dark;

And toil-stained hands are empty,
Pressed to an aching heart ?

For surely our God is keeping
A something sweet for them—
A something better and brighter
Than an earthly diadem.

I¢ must be He will remember
All of the pain and the tears;
And give them a recompense holy
Por all of these yearning years.

 

Dr tynatic Copyright Secured by Col, B. Z & Judson. {

BEGUILED

AND

TRAPPED.

A Tragic Story of New York Life.

——_

By NED BUNTLINE.

CHAPTER I.

“This record will forever stand;
Woman! Thy vows are traced in sand !"—ByYron.

A young andvery beautiful woman, petite in fig-
ure, but of graceful form, well developed, sat alone
ina parlor which fronted on the —th avenue in
New York city. Her dress, the ornaments and fur-
niture of the room, all her surroundings, betokened
only moderate means—though the make-up of her
apparel was not only fashionable, but calculated to
display every charm which she possessed.

She seemed from her attitude and expression to
be musing over some great rplexity. Attimesa
tov a words would leave her lips. Once

Sherenid:

s “itis hard to choose. On one hand [have youth
offering love, whieh I believe is earnest and true,
manhood in its earliest prime, but all this is cloud-
ed over with poverty, and I have no dowry to throw
upon my heart’s choice and side. On the other
hand comes age with fond protestations of a second
love, for he is. a widower with children older than I.
But with this offer comes millions of dollars in
solid wealth—a palatial home, luxuries which only
wealth can command, the means to travel the wide
world over and see all that is beautiful and grand!
Why should I hesitate? My wealthy husband, if
husband he becomes, may soon die, and then—then
my heart can fly back to my first, my only love, and
{ can shower on him the wealth { gain by the sacri-
fice, for sacrifice it will be!”

She pausedand sighed. But as a carriage, drawn
by magnifleent horses, dashed up the avenue—the
driver and footman in livery, with ladies richly
dressed on the seats, her eyes flashed, the color
rushed into her face, and she said, with emphasis:

‘“T will marry Mr. Burnell. and my equipages shall
outshine all others that roll along the streets of
this proud city! He saysIam his idol. Heshall
adorn me as the East Indian pagans adorn their
idols, with costly robes and_ priceless gems! He
shall pay me for the sacrifice I make!”

Quietly, atthis moment, a tall, well-formed, and
rather handsome young gentleman entered the
noon she so occupied and he so still, she did not
near him.

“I wish Harry Hotspur Moray would egme,” she
said. “Hemust know this sooner or later, and now
that I have decided, the sooner the better.”

“What is the decision, my sweet love?” said the
young gentleman, advancing. “Is it that you have
Set the day when we are to be married ?”

The lady, startled by his unknown presence and
sudden speech, trembled from head to foot, and
flushed to the very temples.

"Harry—you should not thus have stolen in upon
me. It is ungentlemanly, sir, to listen to a lady
when she is thinking of her own private matters
and talkingjaloud to herself. Iam very, very angry
with you.”

Too angry to accord forgiveness to the thought-
jess and now repentant sinner, dear Alice ?”’

And he bent one knee at her feet while he caught
and kissed_one of her fair hands.

A startled look came over his face now, for on
that hand he saw something he had never seen be-

fore—a large and brilliant solitaire diamond ring.

_ Heavens! Alice, where did you get that ring? It
is a real diamond, and worth at least three, or per-
haps, four thousand dollars. Has some one lent it
to you?”

, Oh, no, Harry! Itisa present from avery par-
ticular friend—I might say an admirer!”

he face of the young man in an instant grew
stern’ and cold. He rose to his feet and his eyes
seemed to search her through and through.

‘ Who is this admirer, Alice? I have a right to
cLnoOvVW.

“I deny the right, Sir Harry, well named Hotspur

oray.

_Are we not engaged—betrothed’?”

, Wewereinacertain sense. But words spoken
im atime of mutual excitement, blindness, or folly,
should never be considered. as binding. We were
too poor to marry.’

. NOt too poor to love?”

Oh, no. To love isnot, asa general thing, ex-
pensive. But one cannot dress fashionably and
give notes on the bank of Cupid for payment. One
cannot fill a market-basket and pay in kisses. In
short, Mr. Moray, I have taken a sober second
thought, and made up my mind that it would be
rash and foolish for us to marry now. When I
am a widow, rich and independent, if you are
Single still, £ will marry you. There—there—do
not frown and look indignant. I am acting on a
principle of true philosophy and you—well, if you
miko a fuss about it you will act like a fool.”

; « iss Carleton, I never purchase second-hand
Foods.

““And_ yet second-hand goods are often as good as
how. But noone will desi } ake what vo
ac hot want” ire youto take what you

“Will you please to inform me wh« y rie 1
fortunate rival is ?” few aay TiGh Rae

Bless your dear heart, youhave no rival. When

aceept.a new suitor I discard you.”

( h, woman—false ahd heartless. One week ago,
here in this very room, you told me you loved me
better than life!”

And soI do love you, Harry. But I love ease
comfort, and wealth for myself and my parents
more than I love efen you. Now. Harry, be seh-
gible. ff you cannot wait for me—marry Sister
Mary. Sho ‘is younger, fairer, better than I. I
know she loyes you——”

Nos; 27, 29, 31 Rose St.,
oO

 

2

 

NEW YORK, MARCH 26, 1877.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Anais

“Alice, do you want to drive me mad ?”
“No, Harry, I want to bring you to reason.”
Who, I ask again—who is it that has come into
the garden of my love and crushed its fairest

flower!”
Well, Harry, I will tell you this.

 

 

 

“How poetical!
He is a millionaire—one of the golden powers of
the State,”

I will murder him!”

‘Wait, dear Harry—wait till Iam married and he
has willed to me, his idol and his darling, all of his
precious wealth. Then, if you prefer the scaffold,
to waiting a short time for an old man to pass
away, you can make me a widow in your own way.
I shall interpose no. obstacle.”

“You are frightfully cool over this matter.”

“And you are terribly tempestuous.”

“Haye I no cause for passion? Oh, Alice, dear
Alice. I have loved, yet love you better a thousand
times than life.”

“I donot doubt it, Harry, and I love you. But
policy forbids our marriage justnow. I must mar-
ry for riches first. After that weecan yet dream of
love, talk of it. hope for the day to come when its
brightest dreams may be realized.”

“Oh, Alice! How can you sacrifice your beauty,
your heart, your very soul on thealtar of Mam-
mon!

“Harry, there is not the least use in sentimental
talk with me now. Ihave considered this matter
over, and have made up my mind that it is better to
bearich old man’s darling for a. little while, than
to be a poor young man’s slave all my life.”

“That is enough, Miss Atice. I will bid you—not
good-evening—but farewell, FOREVER!”’

He strode fromthe room quickly, his face stern

and implacable.
,, Mor an instant she trembled. Faintly she cried:
‘Oh, Harry, dear Harry, come: back!” But he did
not hear her. A burst of tears, a few hysterical
sobs, and then she grew calm again.

Mr. Burnell is to be here within two hours for
my final answer—he must see no trace of sorrow in
my face,” she said, and she hurried to her chamber
to use a woman’s cunning art to remove those
traces, and to add with consummate skill te her na-
tural beauty.

 

 

 

CHAPTER II.

Young Moray was almost in stute of frenzy when
he left the house where he had spent so many hap-
py hours—where in his imagination he had built
up a future full of that joy which true love only can
bring. The cool and calculating way in which his
heart’s choiee hadspoken of casting him off for
another, weighing his ardent love against an old
man’s money-bags, had struek deep into his heart.

There was a fashionable restaurant just around
the nearest corner in across street, and to it he
went to drown his wretchedness, most foolishly, in
wine.

Ordering a bottle of wine and an evening paper,
he sat and drank glass after glass of the first, while
he tried to read the latter, as a cover tothe nervous-
ness which he feared every one who noticed him
would see. He was not in the habit of drinking
hard, and before the bottle was emptied, he began
to feel its effeets ban palpably. is neryousness
passed away, but wild, even murderous, thoughts
entered his excited, brain.

‘I will watch the house. I'll see who goes to visit
Alice Carleton. And—let him beware! No man,
young or old. rich or poor, shall eross the path of
my love and live. I would murder him at the altar
before I gave her up.”

He paid for his wine, and went from the restau-
rant with rather an unsteady step. He hurried over
to the west side of the town, entered a gun shop kept
by an old German, and asked him if he had any
g00d pistols—one fit to shoot a dog with.

Yaas. Pve yust as nice bistols as any odder man.

Here is de one parrel, de two parrell, und de six
shoots. Look you over dem, und I sell you sheap
what you want.”
, Harry looked over his stock and picked out an
improved pocket “Colt.” He made the gunsmith
load it, bought a box of cartridges, and left the shop
with his new and dangerous purchase.

He laughed wildly when he was on the street, for
iene had setin, and no one seemed to notice his
acuions.,

“I hold her new lover’s life in my hands,” he
muttered. “She shall not exultin my misery and
carry out her false-hearted plans, I'll nip her as-
pirations in the bud.”

Stopping at a saloon he added a glass of brandy
to the stimulants he had already swallowed. And
under its influence he felt as if he could face a regi-
ment of armed foes. @&

Staggering along toward the residence of Miss
Carlton, he had nearly reached it, and was pass-
ing by a lamp-post to collect his thoughts and
steady himself, when two gentlemen passed_him.
One ho recognized tobe the father of Alice Carle-
ton. He did not seethe face of the other, but he
saw that he was gray-haired, but had atall, straight

 

figure, and that he walked with a firm, active step.
Bet ten to one that’s my man. I'll follow him,

      

**Take that jor my share of happiness {7 hie
~ ee we

 

= a ee ee ee em

 

 

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cried, as
ie % aa \

¥

®

and ifhe ’tempts to rob WF my Alice, I'l shoot
him'on the. spot,” he muttered, with a very thick
tongue,

He followed Mr. Carlton and his friend, saw them
enter and close the front door after them, and then
he ascended the steps and looked through the cur-
tained windows of the “parlor—windows which
were fulllength down to the veranda—open now
to admit the eool evening alr, for the day had been

close and sultry. 4
The young lover gas nygnstirand elutehed
the pistol in his poeketw he saw that white-
haired man bow his head ,asif.to kiss the fair
hand he had taken on enterffig the room.
“He is the onel’”’ he muttered. “Why is his back
turned this way? I wish I could see his face.”
The old man now sat down beside Alice, and Mr.
Carlton, with a smile on his face, left the room.
And now, maddening sight to young Moray, he
saw the old man pass his afm around the slender
waist of Aliceé,and bending his head to hers, kiss
her on the lips, she seeming nothing loth to accept
the salute.
“Tll murder him!’ he hissed, and he stepped
noiselessly over on the veranda in front of the
nearest window. All as silently he parted the lace
curtains and entered the room, his step unheard
on the soft carpet, for the old man was speaking in
& low, impassioned tone. :
, in accepting my hand, little woman,” he said,
“you also accept everything which I possess and all
the power I haye to make you as supremely happy
as you make me.”
“Take that for my share of happiness!” shouted
young Moray, as he sprang forward with leveled
pistol aimed at the old man’s head.
As the old man and Miss Carlton sprang to their
feet, the latter shrieking wildly for help, the half
demented young man puiled the trigger—-but no
report followed—the bade cope TM Before he could
cock the pistol for another shot the old man sprang
upon him with a strength and quickness that were
surprising, wrenching the pistol from his hand,
and forcing the would-be assassin backward to the
wall with his left hand clutched on his throat.
And Moray, sobered almost with wonder, saw in
his rival the bosom friend of his own father, a gen-
tleman whom he had been taught from his earliest
boyhood up, tolook upon with respect and rever-
ence.
“Sol” said Mr. Burnell, loosing his grasp on the
throat ef the young man,as he recognized him.
‘This is you, Harry Moray,and you would have
murdered me like a coward, shotme in the back,
had not Providence frustrated your design. I have
known you,from your infancy—have held you in
my arms when you werea crowing, joyful baby. I
did not think you would come to this!”

By this time Mr. Carlton, his wife, and two ser-
vants had reached the room, wondering at the
shrieks of Alice, and now still more wondering as
they saw young Moray half-defiant, half-ashamed,
standing inthe corner of the room—a pistol in the
hand of Mr. Burnell, and Alice lying pale and
faint on the sofa.

“What does this mean ?” cried Mr. Carlton. “What
isthe matter 2?”

“Nothing,” said Mr. Burnell. “I will explain by-
and-by. , Harry Moray—gol! shall make _ no
complaint of you, not even to your own father. But
never—never try such a cowardly act again!” ;

“Tf I do—there shall not be another failure!” said
the young man, bitterly, and he stepped from the
room as he had entered it, by the window, and in a
second was out of sight.

Mr. Burnell put the pistolin his. own pocket, and
hastened to assure Alice of his safety, and then ex-
plained to Mr. Carlton what ‘the attempt had been,
and that he believed the young’: man mad with
drink: and. therefore should overlook the affair.
And he begged all in the house to keep it as a se-
cret—notto let the news pass beyond the portals.

“You are 30 brave,so generous,” said Alice, faint-
ly. “Lhad disearded him, told him neyer to ap-

roach me again with words of love on his lips, and

suppose it was that which made him drink. and
then attempt a cruel, wicked murder. If he had
killed you, dear Mr. Burnell, he would next have
killed me.” 5

“Tt was notto be, little woman. Henven is just
and merciful. Let the roses come back to your
cheeks, for the danger is past. Hereafter I will
kesp an eye on this rash young man.” :

And, the danger passed, the house was again re-
stored to quiet, and the little woman sat down at
per piano, and sung her choicest songs for her new

over.

 

CHAPTER ITI.

Baffled, chagrined at his failure, mortified that
he had been disarmed, throttled, and half-strangled
by a man older than his own father, one, too, who
was a successful rival to him in love, Harry Moray
left Mr. Carlton’s house still nearer to madness
than when he entered it that night.

He had become atmost sobered, so far as the ef-
fect of stimulating drink was concerned; for sud-
den surprises, like great pains or ingense agonies,,

 

he pulled the trigger,

oll easiness

often produce a sobering effec® and thus far his
reason came back: "

“So,” he muttered, “Alice Carlton gives up my
warm and earnest love for Burnell’s millions. And
she is as cool and candid in casting me off as she is
sincere and earnest in beguiling and trapping him.
She said in our last interview that she loved me
yet, but that she would not wed a poor man—and I
am poor in all but health, youth, and strength of
mind and body. Shalil give herup? No, never—
rever; without a struggle. To-night I have been
defeated but not overcome. I will never let her
marry him. I eannot. Even with all her heartless-
ness I love her still. Where shall I go to-night—
what shallI do? I feel wild, reckless, hateful to
myself—to everything around me. I was half drunk
—j know it now. I willnot repeat that folly. Lhave
but little money—I must have more. Had [I the
means to beiong to a club where wealthy young
men congregate, I would not be short of money for
a great while, for I have a natural aptness at cards;
I could deplete their plethoric purses, Iknow. As
it is, I must do what my soul abhors—enter a regu-
lar gambling-house, and pit myself against a faro-
bank. If they play fair, I will win, for I have studied
the game down toa nicety. Ifthey do not play fair,
all Pve got—ten or twelve dollars—will soon go. V’ll
risk it any way. They say Jack Colton plays a
square game—lI['ll risk him.”

The young man took a down-town-bound stage,
and rode on until in Broadway. within a pistol-
shot distanee-of the great City Hall and Tweed’s
unfinished monument—the new Court House. Here
he left the stage, proceeded down a side street but a
few steps, rung the bell of a house, was admitted, and
vanished inside. It is necessary that we should
follow him inside and witness his proceedings
there, if we would have a faithful picture of New
York life, : ;

in a large. well-furnished room, with a side-board
well stocked with free wines and liquors, quite a
crowd of well-dressed men were congregated—some
of them fast New Yorkers, but the majority West-
ern and Southern men who had been found at the
hotels by the “pickers-up” ef the establishment,
regularly employed for that purpose.

As many of these as could comfortably stand be-
fore it; were engaged in betting on the “spread” of
faro cards at the main table in the room, though
doubtless others were at such games as poker, eu-
chre &., in other parts of the house, and all play-
ing for money, of course; for this was no “amuse-
ment” establishment—the players were all in dead
earnest; and every bet told for loss or gain. Harry
Hotspur Moray on entering the room at once
pressed forward to the center of the group at the
nl and tossing a ten-dollar bill to the banker,
said:

“One dollar checks for that, if you pleasei”

Ten pieces of round white ivory. peculiarly mark-
ed, were’ shoved toward him, while the money was
added to the thousands already in the bank. :

Harry took up the checks, watched the drawing
of cards fora couple of minutes, and then placed
half his money on the queen of diamonds.

“Woman has played a false game with me, but I’ll
trust the queen this time, to win!” he muttered.

And when the dealer drew his cards—the queen
did win, and already Harry Moray had doubled his

at.
Moray now took up his checks, watched another
drawing; and then put every check he had, fifteen
in all, on the king, which had not yet been drawn
on that deal.

He waited rather nervously while all the other
players made their stakes. but he was cool when
the dealer began to draw the cards.

The king won. He had thirty dollars on thetable.
He let it lie, and soon the dealer again pulled the
cards from his silver box. ; ‘

“Tt is,a square game—the king wins again!” said
Harry in a whisper, as he looked at sixty dollars in
checks now ontheeard. ‘“‘For the third and last
time now, [ will put my whole pile on a single ecard
—the queen of hearts.. If I winin this game, I'll
win in the other, no matter if millions are the odds
against me!”

He changed his checks. for tens, and put all on
the queen. of hearts, and again he won, and now
held one hundred and twenty dollars, all made from
the ten he had planted on the table. ;

He passed his checks to the banker, and said:
“Cash, ifyou please; Lonly dropped in for a min-
ute, and don’t want to break the bank!”

The cash was handed to him without a word, fgr
talk is never indulged in by the silent, methodical,
earnest men who run the game. . They were evi-

dently quite willing to get rid of a player so cheaply,
who had. not stopped winning at every draw he bet

on.

“Why did you not keep on with _your wonderful
luck!” said_astranger to Moray. “Dve lost nearly
every time I laid down, andama thousand dollars
out!”

‘Tr won all i cared for to-night!” said Moray. “If
Thad kept on, EF might have lost it. Men always

 

make a mistake when they pusi, zood luck too
hard.”

Zhree Dollars Per Year.
Two Copies Kive Dollars.

inane S. STREET.
FRANCES S. SMITH.

eae :

“I believe you.” said the man, gloomily. “I was
five hundred dollars a head once to-night, and
should have quit then. It seemed a square game,

‘and I thought I might break the bank, and carry 3

heavy pile back to Shelby county.”

Both were now before the side-board. The West-
ern man took a tumbler fullof Bourbon, but Moray
drank a glass of sherry, and left the house.

| Reaching Broadway, he said:

“Ll go home now and sleep. I want all my senses

i to-morrow, for between Burnell and me it is war,

| to her father.

and I must plan my campaign.”

CHAPTER IV.

Alice Carlton had considerable natural nerve
force; she knew, too, that she was playing for @
* big stake,” so to speek, and she recovered her
Satan Ae y as soon as her former lover disappear-
ed. As we said at the close of the second chapter.
she at once sat down to her piano, executing some

 

‘of her most brilliant pieces.

“The little woman has courage,” said Mr. Burnell
“Most girls of her age would have
fainted outright, and have been in need of a doctor,
after such a terribly exciting scene. Yet she seems
as calm as if she had been witnessing a play instead
of astern reality, which might have proved a trag-

“She is brave, but she has intense feeling,” said
the father. “She has flown to her music to nerve
and compose herself.” Sis

“She plays very well—there is great expression in
her music!”

“Yes, sir—I have procured the best teachers I
could possibly afford for her. She is not only good
in music, but she reads, speaks, and writes Ger-
man, French, and Italian well. Few girls of ‘her
age unite so Many accomplishments.”

‘After we are married, she will know the full
value of allthese. For I propose to travel at least
a year in Europe—not to return until I have fin-
ished, and made ready for occupation, as fine
a country house as there is in the State. You know
how perfect my city residence is in all its appoint-
ments ?”* ‘

“I do, indeed, sir. But wilf not your immense
business interests suffer in your absence?’ asked
the wily, would-be father-in-law—a younger man

: than him whom he addressed.

“T have thought of that. I shall resign all my of-

' ficial positions with the various corporations with

which Iam connected. Ishall so leave my affairs
with my clerks and attorneys that all interests and
dividends will be collected and added to my princi-
pal investments. A relaxation from the cares of
business, the excitement of travel, and the joy I
hope to find in my relations with your fair and
gifted daughter, will give me almost youth again—
renew my life in spirits, strength, and manhood.”

“It. will indeed,” said Mr. Carlton. “Anything
that I ean do for you im your absence, shall be done
most cheerfully.”

“Thank you, goodfriend. I shail not put the
trouble of eare and business om your mind. My
paid employees can attend to that.”

A shade of disappointment crossed the face of
Mr. Carlton. In truth he wanted some of that very

“care and business,” and the profits which he knew ,

would result therefrom.

“Have you and Alice yet fixed on thé day when
oe happy union will take place ?” asked the fa-
ther.

“No. I want the little woman to set that day her-
self. All thatIask is that she may set an early
one,

“We willleave you alone with her a little while;
and I do not doubt but your eloquence will prevail
on her to make it early,” said Mr. Carlton. Then ad-
dressing his wife, he said:

*‘Come, dear, there is no longer any cause of ex-
citement here, and Mr. Burnell has something par-
ticularly important to say to Altice—let us retire.”

The servants had retired a moment after they
entered, ata sign from Mrs. Carlton, and now Alice
was left alone with Mr. Burnell.

“Little woman, you play as wellas a professional
Will you sing a song for me?” he asked, as he bent
over her slender form and kissed her fair brow.

“Certainly,” she said. “I willsing youan original
song, words and musie my own. which I compos
while thinking of you this afternoon.” And at.
once she sung to a sweet air, these words:

A LOVING HEART CAN NE’ER GROW OED
The stoutest form may bend in time,
The tairest cheek grow thin and pale;
But this I know, and sing in rhyme,
The love of hearts can never tail—
The heart, the heart forever young,

Hath fire which ne’er in life expires—
The bending form, the weakening frame,
Yet burns with kind and soft desires.

The youthful tree may tower high,
And cast its vig’rous branches wide,
But when rude tempests sweep the sky,
Low bends its head of leafy pride;
The ancient oak of sturdier frame
With heart so sound if never dies,
Heeds not the storm or lightning’s flame;
But every tempest shock defies.

She ceased, and Mr. Burnell who had hung with
rapture over her, drinking in every word, cried
out:

“Little woman, you are an angel!”

“Not quite, my dear and good friend,” she said.
“Angels are said to have wings—I have none.”

“Tam glad of it, for come what may you cannot
take wing and fly away from me.”

“T have no such desire, dear Mr. Burnell.”

“Bless you, littke woman, for those kind words.
It seems more than I deserve to have such a beauti-
ful and gifted woman for my wife, but I will strive
by my goodness to her to deserve the happiness she
gives me.”

“T know you will,” said Alice, placing her small.
soft hand in his.

“When shall the happy day arrive when I cam
eall you mine,” he said, in a low, fond tone.

“When it pleases you, for heneeforth you are my
lord and master. Your will is my law.”

“Ah, darling, it will be your wishes that mako my
will. But ifI may name the day, let. it be this day
two weeks. A Cunard steamer sails for Europe
that afternoon; we can be married in_ church carly
in the day, dine early at my house in Fifth Avenue,
and sailfora year’s travelin Europe in the after-
noon!”

“It leaves me but a very short time. to. make
dresses and prepare.” she said.

“Little woman, I thought of all that before I came
here to-night to urge an early day for our marriage.
Here is a check drawn to your order for ten thow-
sand dollars. With that you can purchase material
and employ dressmakers.and milliners who would
fit you outina week. Your jewelry I will purchase
myself, and you shall shine at your bridab like an
oriental queen.” i

*“Dear—dear Mr. Burnell; you are too kind, too
generous.”

And she literally showered kisses upon him.

“Little woman, it is you who are kind and gen-
erous. Every kiss you give meis a pearl of price-
less wealth tome. Take the check, use the money

 

freely, knowing that there is plenty more where
thateame from. And now, Garling, it is growing
late. I keep early hours. To that Ll owe my vigor-
ous constitution and perfect health, or that and
temperate habits. Kiss me good-night and I go.”

“*So early ?” she said.

But she kissed him good-night, saw him to the
door, kissed him there again, and he was gone.

“Ten thousand dollars just for my bridal dress,
and to prepare for travel,” she eried, gleefully, as
she ran to tell her parents her good fortune, and
that the day was set.. ““Why, itis more money than
ITever saw beforein my life. And thisis but the
beginning. Iam to shine with jewels like an ori-
ental queen he said. Harry Moray would not have
spent ten thousand cents on me before marriage,
nor half of it afterward, much as he loved mo.
I was a fool to think of him for a moment, and yet—
Ido believe I loved hem.”

She sighed, and her step grew less rapid as she
went toward the gitting-room, where she knew she
would find her father and mother yet sitting up to
learn the issue of the evening’s tede-a-tete.

Entering that room she held the check aloft and

 

said:

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