mee

 

 

 

 

> "Phe earl’s wrath was fearful.
‘sountess reminded him how happy they had been, how
“true a wife she had been to him.

him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“and step at once into your rightful position as Countess
of Dane, and mistress of an income such as you never
dreamed of?"

Perdita lifted her head; she advanced astep, surveying
him with an unreadable expression in her dark, fearless,
scintillating glance. Her eyes seemed to flash light as she
looked at him; her voice cut the air like a lash upon the
back of a hound, s

‘You! You MURDERER!” she said, ‘Before six months
are gone you shall be where there is neither marrying
nor giving in marriage—on the gallows !"

Cheeny recoiled before the lightning of her eyes; he
shuddered from lead to foot at the deadly prophecy of her
voice. Then he rallied again. He must have been a man
of iron nerve to go through what he had in the past. He
proved himsel{a man of certainly extraordinary nerve
now to rally so desperately after a check like that,

*‘Miss Lorne,’”’? he said—‘‘my lady countess’’—and he

bowed with mocking malignity—‘‘you shall disprove your:

own prophecy before twenty-four hours have passed. We
are in Scotland. You don’t know how'’easily people are
married here.’ You don’t Know how little needs be done
to give me a legal right to claim-you,as my wile.”’

Perdita’s clear eyes studied hima moment. She mas-
tered the deadly terror which his words inspired to send
that’ irresistible. glance of hers to the very bottom of
his cowardly soul, as the lead drops in even muddy
water.

“You cannot make me your wife without my own con-
sent, even here,?? she said, ealmly, “The marriage laws
of Scotland are founded im justice. It is no part of their
intent'to make a woman @ wife against her will.”’

*‘They will make you my wife with or without your con-
sent. All I need is two witnesses to testify to the fact
that you have called ine your husband, that you have
permiited me to call you. my wise.”

Perdita could guess who the witnesses would, be in this
case, but her keen good sense stiil stood her best Iniema,

“] believe you are lying to me,’’ she said.» ‘sYou, could
find no one person whose testimony woulda be accepted in
a legal question Lo bear witness to a lie like that.”

“he law is bound to accept any inan’s oath, provided
he cannot be proved a perjuror.”’

iifPerfita’s courage sauk any at this view of the ques-
tion! swe did not show it. Wer pure, spirited face, never
fultefed=-the stern’ and steady ray of her g:owing eye
burned on wilhout change.

“Jf it were indeed possible for such a horrible wrong to
be:perpetrated on'me, which Lado not believe,’? she said,
slowly; “if L cowld be made. your wife without my own
consent, the only way to prevent me putting the halter
round your neck even then, would be to serve me as you
Oid that other wife of yours.’

Cheeny turned the hue) of a corpse at these daring
words, Something came and looked out of his eyes at
the feariéss girl, worse a million times than, anything she
had-ever seen in them before.

*Perhaps 1 may,’ he said, ina hoarse and unnatural
yoice, and turned and left the room.

Perdita moistened her dry and blanched. lips. She
walked to’ the fire, and stooped over tive few smoldering
embers left there.

“Ugh!)? she said, with w@ shiver, ‘show cold Iam!
man is worse than a snow bank.’

Then she stood erect ‘again on the hearth,
her light, young, supple shape up courageously.

“God is everyyihere,” she murmured, reverently. “So
Jong as I trust Him and am not afraid di here,’ touching
her breast, ‘tthat cowardly wretch cannot harm me.’

The

She drew

 

; CHAPTER XLI. ;

Tt'was about the middle of the afternoon three days
Jater.’ Lord Dane had just) come in from his clubroom,
Where le had been idling away the day tillnow. One of
‘the ‘tall footmen in his lordship’s grand hail met him and
tookhis hat and gloves,

‘Anybody been here, Foster?" the earl asked.

*BaroneChandos isin the library, my lord; been waiting
some fie."

Lord Dane’s face, which had been gloomy before,
brightened,

*‘Let'niy brougham be atthe door in two hours,’’ he
said; and walked toward the library quickly.

Baron Chandos was pacing up and down the richly
carpeted floor, his look that of a man who has matters of
weight upon his mind.

He turned at the earl’s entrance and gravely shook his
hand. His face was stern.

<‘Has anything new happened, baron?”
asked, anxiously.

“Much that is news to me, but not to you, I fear,’’ said
the baron, significantly and sadly.

His strange looks, the excited brightness of his eyes,
the solemnity with which he spoke, startled the earl
vaguely. His mind had not been ina tranquil state for
some days. He could not banish from his thoughts the
recoliection of the errand upon which Cheeny had gone.
Without a suspicion of the really terrible nature of that
errand, he experienced constantly painful misgivings con-
cerning it. He wheeled forward two immense chairs
cushioned in green and gold Russia leather.

“Sit down, baron, and tell me,’’ he said.

“Thank you; Iam too disturbed to sit.) He took out
his watch. “Iam going on the first train to Rylands. ° It
is four now.”

“To Rylands ?”’

Lord Dane turned scarlet as he half-gasped out the ex-
clamation.

“To Rylands. my lord, to save a young and innocent
girl from murder or worse.”’

Lord Dane bit his lips.

“J don’t know what you mean, baron. ,There is neither
murder nor worse in danger of happening at Rylands, I
am very sure.”

“Wait,” said the baron, coldly; ‘‘there is time for me to
tell you a story before I go. It isa tale which may inter-
est you, Lord Dane.”

The earl looked uneasy, but he made a courteous ges-
ture of assent, and impatiently awaited the baron’s story,
which proved more starlingly interesting than the listeuer
had anticipated.

“Years ago,’’ said Baron Chandos, ‘‘when he who was
lord before vou was alive, dowou remember to have heard
of anything peculiar in the relations existing between him
and his countess?’’

It was said that they did not live happily together.’’

“That was true. Lady Dane was a French woman.
She had been compelled to marry the earl against her
Wishes, and she never loved him. All her heart was
given to another before she ever saw hin. But she was
true and devoted wife to him. She could noc love him as
she had that other, but she was faithful to him, and made
him happy till enemies came between them. The earl
had a cousin who was heir to the Dane title and estates
after him and his yeirs. This cousin had imagitied that
the earl would never marry because he had lived so long
without. His disappointment and chagrin when he heard
of the marriage were great. He got a hint somewhere
that Lady Dane had Joved some -one else, and told the
earl, who supposed all this time that his wife loved him
as passionately as he dither. The earl taxed the count-

Lord Dane

“ess withit,jand she could make no denial, for it was

true. id
It was ‘in Vain that the

Inthe midst of the ex-
Citement attending the discovery. and explanation, the

“poor lady feilsick. An heir was born. The earl sent the

child’out to nurse, and swore its mother should never see
Three weeks later, the child disappeared. It was
suspected by some that the eari’s cousin knew where the

‘child was, but that was a mistake. The countess recov-

ered--a lovelier woman than ever but sadder also. She
was very gentle, and attentive to her husband; and. in
time, allseemed to grow smooth again. They had no
more children for years, and then one was born. But it
was a girl ‘this time, and the disappointment, for Lord
Dane believed his son to be dead, and wanted another
heir—the disappointment seemed to sour him. It chanced
that when this last babe was only a few months old. the
countess’s old lover came over from France, and the two
who had ‘been separated so cruelly, met after .so many
years.’ He had never married. They met, unexpectedly to
both, at the garden fete. They were alone, they yielded to
the overpowering agitation of the moment. The countess
was weeping, her former lover held one of her trembling
hands between his. Lord Dane surprised them thus. His
anger was fearful. He would haverun‘the French gen-
ftleman through there, had not the countess fallen upon
fim and kept bim from using his sword, while she en-
treated the other to goaway. The next thought of the

unhappy woman was for her babe. She believed that her.

enraged husband would now take that child from her, as
he had her boy before. Sie left the garden in an almost
frenzied state, but outwardly calm and_ self-possessed.
She ordered her carriage, and without waiting for the
ear!, drove home to this very Dane House. Arrived here,
she took the babe fromits nurse’s arms, tossed a stawl
about it, and without waiting to change jher own rich
dress, went back to the carriage, and gave the man on
the box orders to drive for his life to an address: which
she gave him. Tie man obeyed. The countess was ab-
sent till four in the morning. She came back without
the child, and refused to tell where she had taken it. The

~ earl ascertained, however, Where it wad been left that

Night, from the coachman, But when he went there lie
found the house deserted, and could never get any clue
to who had@lived there, or where they had gone. This
gad affair ended inthe final separation of Lord Dane
from his wife. The countess went back to France, or
staried for there, and died on the way of grief and shame
and a broken heart. So far, my lord, 1 presume I have
not told you much news,” the baron paused in his re-
Cital to say. a hs}4

<Itis not all news to me. A portionis,’? the earl an-
swered, in a low voice.

“Now comes the important part of my story. Lady
Dane hail one brother younger tian herseif who idolized
her. He was visiting her at Leuseleigh at the time of the
first difficulty. He saw her first child, the young heir, torn
from her by its father, he heard her shrieks of anguish,
when her enraged husband told her she should never see
the boy again, He .it was, young. Paul Chandos, who
“tole the babe away and hid it where the mother could
sometimes, at very rare intervals, come in secret and
caress it. He it was who later received the last child
from its mother’s frautic arms, and bore it away to a secure
retreat.”

Lord Dane had grown very pale. He understood the
story. Putting this recital besides some other facts which
had lately come to his knowledge he could understand it.

“Are you Paul Chandos?’ he asked hoarsely.

“Tam.”

“Then you know —”

“What became of the heir and his sister? I do, up toa
certain date.’’

“The heir was called Volney Heath—the sister’s name

is Perdita Lorne? Am I correct, baron?
“You are,’?

 

 

 

eee fen ee tS

ah Pia

“Will you explain to me why Volney. Heath mever
claimed his rights, if he Was in truth the rightfub heir ?”’

“He did not know that be was. When lie was seven
years old, I had reason to suspect that"the earl had got a
clue to our whereabouts. My sister was just dead, my
heart was very sore, I had in ny possession the necessary
proofs of the birth and rights of the two children. I lad
promised my sister that they should never be given into
their father’s power until they were old enougl to under-
stand and be told why they had been severed fron: him.
She could never get rid of a fear, that he would not do
right by them. 1 took both children to the door. of a poor
widow, of whose integrity and warm heart I Knew, and
left them there, intending in time to return for them, But
a Woman servant in my employ, in a fit of anger stole the
papers proying the birth of the two children. I followed
her from’ city to city, to France, and finally to India. On
my way to the last place | was shipwrecked and lived on
an island in the Southern Ocean six years. I was finally
rescued and brought to England once more by a passing
ship. Since that time] have been seeking that woman
who stole from me the proofs of the birth of my sister’s
children, Their father—Lord Dane—had died before I
first left England, about the time I discovered the theft of
the papers, I could do nothing without those papers, and
I could not find the wonian who had stolen them. I heard
of her at last—she’had been dead years. But before her
death she had sent for Rupert Vassar, who had been a
foster child of hers, and confided the papers and thesecret
to him, so far as she knew it. She did not know that
Volney Heath was the heir—I had scrupulously concéaled
his relationship to the little girl, and the woman believed
the heir to be: real'y dead. Hence’ Vassar supposed
Perdita to be the heiress of all.’?

‘And she ts the heiress of all??? questioned Lord Dane,
in a voice of despair.

“After her brother and his heirs, yes. But you under-
stand, my ‘lord, I wave no ‘proof either of her brother’s
death or her oavn birth.”?

Lord Dane bowed his head upon his hand, trying to rise
against the blow.

“You will find the proof,’ he said.

“T hope so; I have the elne.”?

“Ah?? And theearl looked at hima earnestly.

“Yes, the woman who stole it was named Cheeny. She
was the mother of your lordship’s confidential man, than
whom—begging your pardon—there is not a greatei
scoundrel aunhung. His own mother distrusted him, and
confiiled the papers she had stolen to Rupert Vassir in-
stead of him in. consequence. Cheeny knew that thee
was a secret, and that itconcerned Perdita Lorne. What
that secret was he did not know, tili Vassar himsell told
him in his rage just after his daughter’s marriage to poor
Volney. Can you gness now, my lord, whatis the vil-
lainy your valet is endeavoring to perpetrate at Rylands.”’

“Teould perhaps if ie were a single man,” the earl an-
swered, with a painfully roused look.

“Is he nota single man ?”?

Lord Dane shook his head.

“No

“How do you know that he is not?’? :

“] have seen his wife. He has‘a wife and one‘ehild.”

“Perhaps lis wife is dead—— Stay,’? the baron added,
lifting his hand, while His face whitened suddenly... \‘*l
think I know how Rupert Vassar'came’ toshis: death. ‘1
have been tracing the matter slowly home.”

Lord Dane looked at him excitedly.

“Have you had no susgicion?”? asked the baron.

“None of any value.” 1% :

 

“Who have you your suspicions pointedat? Any one

near home?’?

Lord Dane made a startled gesture.

“Certainly not.”

“Not at—— Wait. Were any papers found on Vassar ?”’

“None. Cheeny told me he said h * had deposited them
in London for safe keeping.” :

“And you did not see through the lic? You did not
suspect Cheeny liimself of having them ‘ll the time?”

“T suspected him, I accused him, but he denied: it so
stoutly, and with such seeming sincerity, that 1 believed
him.”’

“Nevertheless he had them, and he has them still.”

{To BE CONTINUED, }

Brave and Bolr.;

io Laas Spat Ip
The Fortunes of Robert Rushton.

By Horatio Alger, jr

 

 

[Brave and Bold” was commenced in No. 39. Bacck numbers
can be obtained from any News Agent in the United States. ,

CHAPTER XXXII.
ROBERT SUCCEEDS IN HIS MISSION.

There was no one in sight, but it was evident that a
party from an American ship had visited the island. Had
they departed? That was a momentous question. ‘In-
stinctively the eyes of both sought the sea. They saw an
American ship riding at anchor amile or more from shore,

“Give me your handkerchief, Robert,’? said Bates; ‘‘I’ll
signal them.”

“It isn’t very clean,’’ said our hero.

“It'll do. . See, they’re looking at us.”?

“Your eyes must be good.”

‘I’m used to looking out to sea, lad.”

He waved the handkerchief aloft, and felt sure that he
had attracted the attention of those on board. But there
was no motion to put off a boat.

“Do they seexit?’? asked Robert, eagerly.

“T think so.”

“Do you think they will come for us? If not, we can
put off in our boat.*? ‘

“T think the party that planted that flag-sta!f hasn't got
back. It is exploring the island, and will be back soon.*?

. “Of course it is,’ said Robert, suddenly. ‘‘Don’t you see

their boat?” i
All we've got to dois to

“Ay, ay, lad; it’s all right.
stay here till they come,’? z

They had not long to wait, A party of sailors, headed
by an officer, came out of the woods, and headed for the
shore. They stopped short in surprise at the sight of
Robert and Bates. ‘

“Who are you?’ asked the leader, approaching.

Bates touched his hat, for he judged this was the captain
of the vessel he had seen,

“Tam a sailor from the ship Argonaut, bound from New
York to Calcutta, and this young gentleman is Robert
Rushton, passenger aboard the same ship.”

“Where is. your ship?”

“T don’t know, captain.”

“Wow came you here???

“We were left here. The vessel went without us.”

“Tow long have you been here?’

“Six weeks.”

“There is something about this which I do not under-
stand. Are you here of your own accord?”

“We are anxious to get away, Captain,’ said Robert.
“Will yon take us???

“To be sure I will. There’s room enongh on my ship
for both of you. ButI can’t understand how you were
left here.’? ; ‘

“It’s a long yarn, captain,” said Bates. “If you havent
time to hear it now, I will tell you aboard ship.*?

* You look like a good seaman,’? said the captain, ad-
dressing Bates. ‘‘’m short-handed just now. If you will
engage with me, I will enroll you among my crew.”’

“That Pll do,’ said Bates, with satisfaction. ‘I wasn’t
made for a passenger.”?

‘*My ship is the Superior, bound from Boston to Calcut-
ta;so your destination will be the same. My name is
Smith. Do you know the name of this island ?”’

“| never heard of it before.”

“IT have taken possession of it in the name of the United
States, supposing myself the first discoverer,”’

“That's allright, To my mind, the Star Spangled Ban-
ner is the best that can Wave over it.’’

“We might offer the captain our boat,” suggested
Robert.

The offer was made and accepted; and, while the cap-
tain and his party returned in one boat, Robert and Bates
rowed to the ship in their own, and were soon on the
deck of the Superior, to their unbounded satisfaction,

“This is something like,’ said Bates. ‘‘The island is
oo enough, but there’s nothing like the deck of a good
ship.¥

‘“T don’t think I wholly agree with you,’ said Robert,
smiling; ‘“‘but just at presenti do. I am glad enough to
be here. Wemay meet Cuaptain Daley at Calcutta,’ he
added, after a pause,

“Likely he’ll have got away before we get there.”

“T hope not. 1 should like to meet him face to face,
and charge him with his treachery. I don’t think he'll
be over glad to see me.”

“That's so, lad. Hedon’t expect ever to set eyes on
you again.”

Robert soon felt at homeon the new vessel. Captain
Smith he found to be a very different man from Captain
Haley. When he heard the story told him by our hero,
he said:

“1 like your pluck, Robert. You've had contrary winds
so far, but you’ve borne up against them. The wind’s
changed now, and you are likely to have a prosperous
voyage, Tunis Captain Haley is a disgrace to the service.
He'll be overhauled some time.’ a

“When I get back to New York I shall tell Mr. Morgan
how he treated me.’’

“That will put a spoke in his wheel.’

* There's one thing I want to speak to you, about, Cap-
tain Smith. How much will my passage be ?”

‘Nothing at all.”?

“But I have some money with me.
pay.’ ;

‘Keep your money, my lad. Yow will need it all before
you get through. I was ounce a poor boy myself, obliged
to struggle for my living. I haven’t forgotten that time,
and it makes me willing to lend a helping hand to others
in the same position.’

“You are very kind, Captain Smith,’ said Robert,
gratefully.

“L ought to. be.
Calcutta?”

“Only long enough to look about for my father.”

“Then you can return to New Yorkin wy ship.
cost you nothing.’

 

I am willing to

How long do you, want-to stay in

It shall

This offer was gratefully accepted—the more,so hak

our hero had begun to realize that two hnondred dollars
Was a small sum to carry on a journey of such length, "

At last. they reached Calcutta. Robert surveyed with
much interest .the great. city of [ndlia, so at ar nein is
external appearance from New York, the only great ‘city
besides that he knew anything about,

“Weil, Robert,” said Captain Smith, on their arrival,
‘what are your planus? Will you make your home on

om

= ete

 

<4 THE NEW YORK WEEKLY.

 

board the ship, or board in the city during our stay in
port ??

“TI think,” said Robert, “I should prefer to live in the
city, if you would recommend me a good boarding-

lace,’?
" “That I can do, I amin the habit of boarding at a
quict house kept by a widow. Her terms are reasonable,
aud you can do no better than go there with me.

“jlank you, Captain Smith, Ishall be gtad to follow
your advice.”

So it happened that Captain Smith and Robert engaged
board at the house of Mrs. Start, where it wil be remein-
bered that Captain Rushton was also a boarder, passing
still under the name of Smith. Physically ie had con-
siderably improved, but mentally he, was not yet recoy-
ered, His mind had received a shock, which, as it
proved, a shock equally great was needed to bring il back
to ils proper balance.

“By the way,’’ said Mrs. Start to Captain Smith, ‘‘we
have another gentleman of your name liere.’’

‘Indeed 2”?

“You will see hin at dinner. Poor gentleman, his mind
is affected, and we only gave hit this name because we
didn’t Know his real name.’’

Robert little dreamed whtoit was of whom Mrs. Start
Was speaking, nor did he look forward with any partica-
lar curiosity to seeing the other Mr. Smith.

When dinner was announced, Robert and the captain
Were early in their seals, and were introduced to the
other boarders asthey came in. Finally Captain Rushton
entered, and moved forward to a sent beside the land-
lady. Robert chanced to look up ashe entered, and his
heart made a mighty,bound when in the new Mr. Smith
he recognized his father.

“Father! he exclaimed, eagerly, springing from his
seat, and overturning his chair in his haste.

Captain Rushton looked at him for a moment bewil-
derment. Then ali at once the mists: that had obscured
his faculties were dispelled, and he cried ‘‘Robert! my
dear son, how came you here ?”?

‘J came in search of you, father.
have found you alive and well.”

“7 think 1 have been in adream, Robert. They call me
Smith. That surely is not my name.’’

“Rushton, father. You have not forgotten ?’

“Yes, thatis it. Often ithas been on the tip of ny
tongue, and then if slipped away from me. But tell me,
how came you here?”

“Tam indebted to the Kindness of this. gentleman—

Thank Heaven I

Captain Smith, father—who rescued ime from great
peril.” Ei
This scene, of course, excited great astonishment

among the boarders, and the worthy laudlady, who had
been uniformly kind to Captain Rushton, was rejoiced at
his sudden recovery. Feeling that inutual explanations in
public would be unpleasant, she proposed to send dinner
for both to Captain Rushton’s room, and this offer was
gladly accepted.

“And how did youJeave your mother, Robert?’
the captain.

“She was well) father, but mourning for your loss,’?

‘| wish I could fly to her.”

“You shall go back with mein Captain Smith’s vessel.
lam sure he will take us as passengers.”” —,

“So we will. You are sure your mother is well pro-
vided for. But Mr. Davis has, no doubt, supplied her
with money.”’

“Not a cent, father.’

“Not a cent! 1 deposited five thousand dollars with him
for her benefit, just before sailing.”

“So you wrote in the letter which you sent in the bot-
tle,’

‘“‘Was that Jetter received ?”?

“Yes; it wus that what led me to come in search of
you.”?

“And did you go to Mr. Davis?”

“He denied the deposit, and demanded to see the re-
ceipt.”?

“The villian! He thought I Was atthe bottom of the
sea, and the receipt with me, He shall find his mistake.”

“Then you have the receipt still, father?

‘To be sure I have,’’ and Captain Rushton drew it from
the pocket where it had Jain concealed for two years and
more,

Robert regarded it with satisfaction.

“He won’t dare to deny it after this.
going back at once.”’

“Now, Robert, tell me,all that has happened. in my ab-
sence, and how you raised money eneugh to come out
here,”

So father and son exchange narrations. Captain Rush-
ton was astonished to find that the same man, Ben Haley,
who had been the cause of his misfortunes had also come
so near compassing the destruction of his son.

“Thanks toa kind Providence,” he said, ‘this wicked
machinations have failed, and we are alive to defeat his
evil schemes.”

* CHAPTER XXXII.
: CAPTAIN HALEY IS SURPRISED.

In due time the Superior cleared for New York, and
among the passengers were Robert and his father. Since
the meeting with his son Captain Rushton's mental malady
had completely disappeared, and his mental recovery af-
fected his physicial health favorably. His step became
firm and elastic, his eye was bright, and Robert thought
he had never jooked better. Leaving the two to pursue
their.yoyage home, we return to Captain Haley.

After leaving Robert to his fate, he kept on his way, re-
joicing with a wicked satisfaction that he had. got rid of
an enemy who had itin his power to do him harm, for what
Robert might suffer in his island prison, he cared little.
He took it for granted that he would never get away, but
would pass his life, be it longer or shorter, in dreary exile,
Though the crew did not know all, they knew that the
captain had heartlessly left Robert to his fate, and all
were animated by acommon feeling of dislike to their
commander, who never under any circumstances would
have been popular. But there was no one among them bold
enough to come forward, and charge Haley with his crime,
even when they reached Calcutta. The captain moved
among them, and his orders were obeyed, but not with
alacrity. This satisfied him, for he cared nothing for the
attachment of those under his command,

One day in Calcutta he lad a surprise.

He met Captain Rushton one day when out walking. It
seemed like one risen from the dead, for he supposed him
lying at the bottom of the sea. Could his eyes deceive
him, or was this really the man whom he had so grossly
injured? Captain Rushton did not see Haley, for he was
partly turned away from him, and was busily conversing
with a-gentleman of his acquaintance, Haley drew near,
and heard Captain Rushiou addressed as Mr, Smith. He
at once decided that, in spite of the wonderful resem-
blance, it was not the maa he supposed, and breathed more
freely in consequence. But he could not help looking
back to wonder at the surprising likeness,

“They are as near alike as if they were brothers,” he
said to himself.

He did not again catcli sight of Captain Rushton while
in Calcutta,

Before Robert arrived, Captain Haley had sailed for
home. But he met will stoMns, and his vessel received
injuries that delayed her, so that his ship ouly reached
New York on the same day with the Superior, bearing as
“passengers Robert and his father, Our hero lost no tune
in calling upon his friend Mr. Morgan, and actuaily reach-
ed the office an hour before Haley, the Superior having
reached her pier alittlein advance of the other vessel.

When Robert walked into the office, Mr. Morgan, who
was at his desk, looked up, and recognized him at once.

‘Welcome Wack, my young friend,’ he said, cordjliy,
rising to meet him. ‘I am glad to see you, but I Vt
expect you quite so soon. How did you iiappen to come
in advance of the captain?”’

“Then you have not heard what happened at sea ?”’ said
Robert. \

“Yes,’ said the merchant, ‘I heard, much to my re-
gret, of Captain Evans’ death, He was a worthy man,
and [am truly sorry to lose him. What«do you think of
his successor, Captain Haley? lic has never before sailed
for me.”*

“After I have told my story, you can judgeof him for
yourself. I did notreturn on your vessel, Mr. Morgan,
but on the Superior, Captain Smith.”

‘“‘How is that?’ asked the merohant, surprised.

“Because Captain Huley left meon an island in the
Southern Ocean, bound to atree, and probably supposes
that [am dead.”

“Your story seems incredible, Robert. Give me a full
account of all that led to this action on the part of the
captain.”

My readers shall not be wearied with a repetition of de-
tails with which they are already familiar. Robert related
witat had happened to him in a straightforward manner,
and Mr. Morgan never thought of doubting his state-
ments,

“This Maley must be a villain,” hesaid. “You are indeed
fortunate in having escaped from the snare he latd for

Fou.’?
’ ‘I have been fortunate in another way also,” said Rob-
ert. “I have succeeded in the object of my voyage.”

“You have not found your father ?’'

“T found him in Calcutta, and I have brought him home
with me.”’

“You must have been born under a lucky star, Robert,’’
said the merchant. ‘Were your father’s adventures as
remarkable as yours?”

“It was the same man who nearly succeeded in accom-
plishing the ruin of both--Captain Haley was my father’s
mate, and it was he who, in revenge for some fancied
slight, set fire to the vessel iu miid-ovean, and then
escaped.’’ :

Scarcely had this revelation been made, when a clerk
entered, and approaching Mr. Morgan; said, ‘‘Captain
Haley would like to see you,”

Mr. Morgan glanced at Robert significantiy.

“T wish to know what explanation. Mr. I[aley has to
give of your disappearance. There is a closet. Go in,
and Close the door partially, So that you may hear what
passes without yourself being seen.’’

Robert was hardly established in his place of conceal-
ment when Haley entered the office.

“Good-morning, Mr. Morgan,"? he said, deferentially,*
for he wished to keep in his employer’s good graces.

*Good-morning, sir,’? said the merchant, formally.
“Captain Haley, I believe?” :

“Yes, sir. I succeeded to the command of the Argonant
upon the lamented death of my friend, Captain Evans,
His death happened on our passage out. | proceeded at
onee to Calcutta, and after disposing of the cargo sailed
for home.??

“Your vosage has been a long One."

“Yes, we have had stress of weather, which -has de-
jnved us materially. Iregret this, but did the best I could
under the circumstances, I hope te have discharged my
duties in a manner satisfactory to you.” . ce

‘“Tcannot of course blame you for delay, since the
weather was quite beyond your control,” said the mer-

asked

I wish we were

 

chant, but his tone was marked by coldness, for which

 

 

a

=

 

jialey found tt diffenit to account. Hie wus anxious to
remain in command of the Argonaut, but the want of
cordiality.evinced by his employer made him doubtful of
his success, He was not timid, however, aud resolved to
broach the subject,

“LT hope, Mr. Morgan,’ he said, ‘that you have suffi-
cient confidence in ime to intrust me with the command
of the Argonaut on her next voyage.” ,

‘He certainly is not lacking in audacity,? thought Mr.
Morgan, ‘We will speak of that matter hereatter,’”? he
said, “wid my young friend, Robert Rushton, return
with you???

Now was the critical moment.
Haley felf embarrassed.

“No, sir,’? he replied.

“Indeed! JI expected that you would bring him back.”

“May Task if the boy is a relative of yours, Mr’ Mer-:
gan???

“No, he is not.”

“So muclr the better.” : oA
Why de yousay that? I am_ particularly interested in
lim. :

“Then, Sir, ny task becomes more painful and embar-
rassing.”’

“You speak in enigmas, Captain Haley.”

“I hesitate to speak plainly. I know you wil! be pained
by, what | liave to tell you.”’

“Don’t consider my feelings, Captain Haley, but say
what you have-to say.’?

“Then | regret to say that the boy, Robert Rushton, is
unworthy ol your friendship.”
“This is a grevious charge.

Substantiate i.”

“L will do so, Shortly atter the death of Captain Evans
and my accession to the command, I found that this boy
Was trying !0 undermine my influence with the men,
from what motives | cannot guess. Il remonstrated with
liim mildly but firmly, but only received insolence in re-
turn, Nevertheless | continued to treat him well on ac-
count of the interest you felt in him. So things went on
till we reached Calcutia.’ He left me at that time, and to
my surprise did not return to the ship. I was able to ac-
count for his disappearance, however, when I | one
hundred and fifty dollars, of which Lhave not the Mght-
est doubt that he robbed me. Ishould have taken meas-
ures to have liim arrested, but since you felt an interest
in him | preferred to suffer the loss in silence.’ I fear,
Mr. Morgan, tiiat you haye been greatly deceived in
him.,??

“I suspect that I have been deceived,’ said Mr. Morgan,
gravely. “Itis only fair, however, Captain Haley, to
liear both sides, and I will therefore summon the boy him-
self to answer your charge... Robert.”

At the summons, to Captain Haley’s equal surprise and
dismay, Robert stepped from the closet in which he lad
been concealed.

‘What have you to say, Robert?” asked the merchant.

In spite of his audacity,

Of course, I expect you to

IPR 7,

= ee

‘May Task what is your motive in calling upon me??
asked Mr. Davis. ‘I suppose you have some object ?””

“T have, and I think you can guess it.?’

“T am not good at guessing,” said Davis haughtily.

“Then I will not put you to that trouble. You remem-
ber, before I sailed for Calcutta, I called here and asked
you to restore the sum of five thousand dollars deposited
with you by my father?”

“l remember it, and at the time I stigmatised the claim
as ifraudnient one. No such sum was ever deposited
with me by your father.”

“How can you say that, when my father expressly,
stated it in the letter, written by: him, from the boat in
which he was drifting about on‘the ocean ??’

__“T have no proof that he letter was genuine, and even
if it were, 1 deny the claim. Iam not responsible for
money | never received.” . ~

“I understand you theh to refuse to pay the money ??

“You would have understood it long ago, if you had not
been uncommonly thick-headed,’” sneered the superin-
tendent, ‘Let this be the end of it. When you present
iny note of acknowledgment for the amount, | will pay it,
and not before.”

“That is all I ask,? said Robert. ; ?

“What ??? demanded the superintendent.

‘IT mean that this assurance is all I want. The note
shall be presented to you in the course of the day.”

“What do you mean?’ asked Davis, startied.

“T mean this, Mr. Davis, that 1 found my father in Cal-
cutta. He came home with me, and, far from baving
perished at sea, is now alive and well. He has with him
your note Sor jive thousand dollars, and will present it
in person. .

‘on are deceiving me!’ exclaimed Davis, in conster-
nation,

“You will soon Jearn whether Iam deceiving you or
not,’’ said Robert, I will now bid you good-morning.
My father will call upon you in the course of the day.”

He rose to go, leaving the superintendent thunderstrack
at the intelligence of Capiain Rushton’s return. The five
thousand dollars, with arrears of interest, would take the
greater part of the money whose sudden acquisition had
so elated him. While he was considering vle siluation,
his wife entered.

“TI think, Mr. Davis,” she said, “IL will go to New York
to-day to buy the carpeting, if you can spare the money.”

‘Neither now nor at any other time,” he roared savage-
ly; ‘the old carpet must do.” , ;

“Why then, did you tell me fifteen minutes since that I
might buy one? What do you mean by stch trifling, Mr.
Davis?” said his wife, her eyes flashing.

“IT mean what I say. I’ve changed’ my mind. I can’t
afford to buy an “arpet.” ‘8 :

There was a stormy scene between man and wife, which
may be passed overdin silences it-ended with a fit of hys-
lerics on the part of Mis. Davis. while her husband put

 

“Captain Haley knows very well the falsehood of what
he says,’’ said our hero, calmly, . ‘It was not at Calcutta
| left.the Argonaut, nor was it of my Own accord. Cap-
tain Haley with his own hands tied me to a tree on a
small island in the Southern Ocean, and there left me, as
he supposed, to.a solitary death. But Heaven did not
forsake me, and sent firsta brave sailor and afterward a
ship to my assistance. The charge thatI stole money
from him J shall not answer, for | know Mr. Morgan will
not believe it.”

Captain Haley was nota fool, and he knew thatit would
be useless to press the charge farther.

He rose from his seat; his face was dark with anger
and smarting under.a sense of defeat.

“You have not done with me yet,” he said to Robert,
and without another word left the office.

 

CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE CUP AND THE LIP.

Affairs in Millville had gone on muci as usual. "Mrs.
Rushton had not yet exhausied the supply of nioney Jeft
by Robert in the hands of his friend the lawyer. Her ex-

 

penses were small, and were eked out by her earnings;
jor she continued to braid straw, and was able in this way
to earn two dollars a week. Indeed, she made it a point
to be as economical as possible, for spe thought it likely
Robert would spend all his woney, and return penniless.
She had received no letter from him since the one an-
nouncing his being about to sail for Culcutta, and this
made her naturally anxious. But Mr. Paine assured her
that letters were likely to be irregular, and there was no
ground for alarm. So she waited with what patience she
could till Robert should return, hoping that by some
strange chance he might succeed in his quest, and bring
his father back with him. ,

Meanwhile, fortune had improved with Mr. Davis, the
superintendent of the factory. He had lost largely by
speculation, but had blundered at last into the purchase
ofa stock in which some interested parties had effected
acorner. It went.up rapidly, and on the morning wiren
we introduce him again to the reader he was in high good
spirits, having just received intelligence from his broker
that he had cleared seven thousand dollars by selling at
the top of the market.

‘‘Another cup of coffee, Mrs. Davis,’? he said, passing
his cup across the table.

Seeing that his father appeared in good humor, Halbert
ventured to prefer a request, which, however, he hau lit-
tle hope of having granted.

“Have you seen Will Paine’s pony?” he asked, paving
the way for the request.

“Yes,’? said his father; ‘‘I saw him on it yesterday.”

“T's a regular beauty—I wish I jiad one.” ;

“How mucli did it cost ?”

“Two hundred dollars.’

   
  
   
 

   

“That a high price.’?

“Buti se in value every year. I wish you
woul ather.”’

“rt said the superintendent, helping him-
self toa of toast.

“Do you I ?? asked Halbert, in the utmost aston-
ishment. ~~

 

 

“Certainly Ido. I can afford you a pony as well as Mr,
Paine can afford to buy Wiiliam one.”’

“Thank you!’ said Halbert, his selfish nature more
nearly affected by gratitude than ever before. ‘‘You are
very kind. When will you see about it?”

“Tam busy. You may go yourseli and ask Mr. Paine
where he got William’s pony, and ifhe Knows of aby
other equally good.”

“That I will,” said Halbert, leaving the table in haste.

“lfalpert, you have eaten scarcely anything,’”’ said his
mother. .

“Iam not hungry,” said the exéited boy, seizing his
hat, and dashing oif in the direction of Mr. Paine’s o .

“By the way, Mrs. Davis,” said her husband, “I think
you mentioned last week that the parlor needed a new
carpet.”’ A

ra it does. The old one is looking very shabby.”

“How much will a new one cost ?”’

“1 can get a nice Brussels for a hundred dollars.”

“Well, you may order one.”

It was the wife’s turn to ve astonished, for on broach-
ing the subject the week previous her husband had given
her a lecture on extravagance, and Creo refused to
consider her request. This was before the tidings of his
good fortune. She was not siow to accept the /present
concession, and assumed an unusually affectionate mane ;
ver in the exeess of her delight.

Meanwhile Halbert, in opening the front door came in
collision with a boy, taller and stouter than himself,
brown and sunburnt. But changed as he was, he was
not slow in recognizing his old enemy, Robert Rushton.

“What, are you back again?” he said, ungraciously.

“So it appears. Is your father at home?”

“Yes; but he is at breakfast. I don’t think you can see
him.”

‘Ill make the attempt at any rate,’ said Robert.

“Where liave you have all this time??? asked Halbert,
more from curiosity than interest.

“JT went to Calcutta.’’

“Common sailor, I suppose,’ said Halbert, contemptu-
ously.

“No, I was a passenger.”

“Where did you get your money to pay the passage ?””

“fam sorry that Iecan’t stop to gratify your curiosity
just at present, but I have important business with your
father.”

“You're getting mighty important,’ sneered Halbert,

“Am 19? :

“IT wouldn’t advise yon to puf on so many airs just be- |
canse you've been to Calcutta.”

“IT never thought of putting on any. I see you haven't
changed much since I went away. You have the same
agreeable, gentlemaniy manners.”’

“Do you mean to say that I am not a gentlemen?”
blustered Halbert.

“Not atall. You may be one, but you don’t show it.’?

“T have a great mind to put you out of the yard.”

Robert glanced at Halbert’s figure, slight compared
with his own, and laughed,

“I think you would find ita difficult undertaking,’’ he
said, ?

Halbert privately came to the same conclusion, and de-
cided to war only with words,

“T have got something better to do than to stand here
listening to your impudenuce. I wou’t soil my fingers by
touching you.”

“That's a sensible conclusion. Good morning.”

Halbert did not deign torespond, but walked off hold-
ing his nose very high in the air. Then as he thought of
the pony, he quickened his pace, and bent his steps to Mr.
Puine’s office.

“A young man to see you, Mr. Davis,” saidt*Bridget,
enterimg the breakfast-room.

“Who is it?”

“] think ils young Robert Rushton, but he’s much
grown eutirely.”

“Tiiat boy home again!> exclaimed the superintendent
in displeased surprise. “Weil, you may carry him into
the next room\.”’

“Good-morning, Mr. Davis,’? said) Robert, as the super-
intendent entered.

“Good-moruing.
cold reply.

“Last evening.”

“Where have you been?”

“To Galcutta.!

“On a fool's errand.’

“TI felt it my duty to search for my father.”’

“tT could have told you beforehand you would not suc-
ceed. Did you go as a sailor?”

“No.

“Where did you raise money to pay your expenses ?”’

“Tf found friends who helped me.”

“It is poor policy for a boy to live on charity.”

“T never intend to do it,” sdid Robert firmly. “But I
LS rather do it than live on money that did not belong

o me.

“What do you mean by that, sir?’ said the superin-
tendent, suspiciousty.

“It was atsencral remark,” said Robert,

When did you get home?” was the

on his hat and walked. gloomily over. to the factory.
Here he soon received a call from Halbert, who informed
him, with great elation, that Mr. Paine knéw of a cesira-
ble pony which could be had on the same terms us his
son’s,
“Pve changed my mind,” Said his father. ‘A pony
Will cost too muth money.” ¥4
All Halbert’s.ent hes Were unayailing, and he fina
left his father’s présélice ia a very unfilial frame of mind
[To BE CONCGLU NEXT, WEEK. }
we ‘£12 G :
q

 

.¢

Ironsides, the Scout.

4 CHAPTER XY.
a IRONSIDES’ ADVENTURE: :
The morning sun arose on a tragical scene at the Dea
fall. , : : 4 ell

 

In the enter of a group of wr , Among whom were
old Inkpaducah and Towering Oak, the latter still suffer-
ing from the effects of the scalping-knife of the white scout,
stood the hero of our story, Old Ironsides, the scout. His
arms were bound y front of him, as if to mock his help-
lessness. His hea d shoulders-were bare.

The old scouf had been doomed to a terrible fate—that
of the*sealpir tien death by the tomahawk. <'Tow-
ering Oak was to use the scalping-knife in retaliation for
his own scalp, which he had lost at the hands of the scout
some time previous, and, aithough still suffering from the
fearfui wounds, the giant savage appeared the embodi-
ment of fiendish triumph.

As the time for the ordeal approached, several Indians
with cocked rifles were stationed in the rear of the party,
with orders to shoot, the scout dead, in case he made the
least altempt io escape, and, in consequence of this pre-
caution, the old scout felt lis case hopeless.

“Wal, wall,” the scout mentally exclaimed, “I s’pose
my time has come. to render up an account to the Judge
ofall. Thar’s but little of my past life that I kif recall
with regret, and thar’s a few ’arthly things I'd like to ’ave
settled aforeI went. And then I’djike to know what be-
come of Chris Watterson, and whar the Hidden Ranch is,
and what become of the two girls.”? :

_ Ironsides was not one of those ‘flliterate fanatics who
are dead to ali the influences of religion. While the ex-
terior man bore a bold, defiant look, which he knew an
Indian respected to a certain degree in a captive, his
heart trembled in fear of the wrath of God, for he knew
that he had not always followed Him inthe path of.duty.

While thus musing on the great Hereafter, Inkpaducah
—for some unknown reason—turned from the group-of
savages and walked toward the edge of the swamp, at that point
where Ironsides’ trail across the moat eienunaneee His back was
toward the scout, and as the eyes of the latter fell upon his form,
a desperate hope ppisng oa. in his mind, and a prodigious physi-
power seemed to expanding every muscle of his ‘giant

Tame. e

He ran his eyes over the old chief. In size he was small, age
had reduced him to the form of a withered pine. Though. his
brain was as es as ever in wickedness and cunning, his limbs
were feeble, and there was a perceptible totterin his walk. He
bore no weapon, nor was there any within a rod of him.

There was a movement in the crowd behind, and the scout
knew that the moment of his torture had come. But he did not
flinch or turn his head. There was a sudden convulsion of his
mighty frame, a desperate flash in his powerful eyes, a rigid sét-
ting of the features, as if a volcanic emotion was surging within
his breast. But it was not this. He was gathering his strength
into offe cape effort for a single purpose, which was made man-
ifest when, by an outward pressure of the arms, the cords that
pormevet his limbs burst apart ilke rotten straws, and he stood a

‘ee man,

“ Th: click of rifielocks behind were instantly heard, but the
next instant he threw lrimself forward full lengti: upon the earth,
his head passing lik®@ wedge between the iegs of Inkpaducah,
ne was thrown backward with great violence upon the back of
the scout.

The next instant frdnsides rose fo his feet with the old chief
dangling head dowprard at his back, in which position he held
him by the legs, which were astride of his neck and drawn tor-
ward over his shoulders. ‘

The body of the eid chief completely screened the form of Iron-
sides, or enough of it to make it as dangerous to the chief for the
— to attempt to shout the scout, as it was to the scout him-
~~ This is what the quick mind of the scout had premeditated, and
the instant he arese to his feet he bounded away toward his trails
over the moat, and in a moment was lost from view of the savage
among thetall reeds. He still clung to the heels of the old chief
in order to makea shield of luis body from savage bullets in the
rear. :

The savages gave chase, and the rapidity with which they
bounded from tussock to tusseck, sodn convinced L[ronsides that
they were gaining upon him. But he was not ata loss for an ex-
pedient. ‘he chiei was a great cumbrance to his movements.
Now that he was out of the immediate danger of bullets, he re-
solved to drop the writhing, howling Chieti in the swamp. This
would create a diversion in his fayor. 4

His expedient worked to a demonstration. He dropped the
chief and ran on. ‘He gained the sliure, secured tis ‘rifle and ac-
coutrements, and dashed on into the deep forest. But he soon

me conscious of being pursued, He glanced back, Towering
Oak, tomahawk in hand, was after lim and gaining upon him at
every step,

The scout drew his hatchet from: his girdle as he ran, then slack-
ened his pace and permitted the savage to gain upon him. Sud-
denly he whirled and faced the savage—raised. his; hatchet, and
with all the strength and precision that he could summon, hurk
ed it at the foe.

Towering Oak's quick eye caught the white man’s rhovementa,
and supposing that the weapon was aimed at liis’ head, ' stooped
forward to avert the blow. But Ironsides had aimed at the sav-
age’s breast, and as he stoo forward, the keen-edged weapon
sunk to the eyein his scalpless skall. ‘

A groan burst from the savage’s lips—he straightened liimself
up with a.convulsive jerk, and with the ‘handle of the weapon
quivering in his brain, he ran on a few paces, fell dead at the
feu ot ‘victorious enemy. }
i Tronsides realized that he had really trium over his
‘ at last, he and removed the’ hatchet from the
‘ |, and wiped its blade upon the savage, then he turned away
and resumed his journey., His face now wore a satisfied look, but
in the death ot Towering Oak he showed none of that wild, un-
christian triumph which, had the savage been the victor, would
have made the forest ring with glee. But Ironsides Wad alwa:

considered the giant the Only one of his race who « with
him in physical strength. So in death he ote tim a
oo kind of respect usually entertained by one : for an-

rer. ,

The scout mest rapidly toward Pleasant Prairie. He expected
the savages Would pursue him after finding the vody of Towering
Oak, but by that time he hoped to be far away. Wie

When his utind reverted tothe treachery of Paul Bon it

was witha ot bitterness. It was to him an easy matter
to know how the savages had preached his cabin, aiid how Tower...
ing Oak and the two warriors had concealed every evi e of
4heir being in the cabin on that fearful night. He knew that it
was Bonitace who had attempted the life of Captain Watterson.
And that whistle, too, which the savages from their
aibuscade beneath the sand and driit-wood, was Paul’s. It was
he who had tampered with all the rifles but the old scout’s, and
was in a great measure accountable for the massacre that night.
When Tronsides remembered ail this, he chafed in spirit, especially
when his mind reeurred to the vattack u the village. How
Boniface, in the guise of a triepd, had come in the moment of
their peril, simply to learn tlie plans of the settlers, that he and
his savages might attempt to thwart them and capture the vil-
lage, How be made his escape under pretense of going to Lhe fort
tor assistance, and the results that fodowed!

While thus reviewing and musing over the past the old scouts
ears were suddenly greeted by a yonee hailing him.

He turned in the direction of the sound und fairly staggered at
what he beheld. . ss ;

With a firm step, but pale and emaciated face and wasted
form, Captain Chris Watterson, ia-flesh and spirit, emerged from
alittle thicket of undergtowth, followed) by the bluck scout,
Midnight. : i

CHAPT

‘ WHAT RL THUGBY HEARD.

Let us go back to the Robber’s® Hid@en Ranch again, to the
apartinent where we last left Alice Ashbury a prisoner, and Gap-
tain Otto Agnew, who had jast entered her room,

“T have come at last, Miss Ashbury,’”’ the robber-captain said,
as he entered bet presence.
wo smiled, 1e seemed pleased rather than disturbed by

8 Vikit.

“Oh, I have waited for you, captain, ever 50 long,” she replied,
in a pleasant voice.

The captain seated himself near the table and said:

“Alice, I have come to have ong talk with you. Winegarner
requested me to visit you and arrange for our wedding te-mor-
row; but Ihave something else of more importance to talk
about. I want to ask you one question. That is, were yuu the
own child of George and Olive Ashbury ?”’

Alice started and her face turned paie.

“Why do you ask me this, aap Agnew ? she asked, |

“Because I have reason to believe you are not an Ashbury by

birth.”
“No, Iam not,” Alice replied, with a sigh. “I am the adopted

  

 

 

 

daughter of the Ashburys, and by their request go by that name.
My true name is Alice Thu’ ’

 

 

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