51357

Copyrighted. 18%, by Bnnu AND ADAMS.

VOL. IX.

32.50
a Year.

Entered at the Post Olfice at New York. N. Y., as Second Clnas Mull Matter.

PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS,
No. 98 William Street. New York.



July‘17,l5‘5~l.

N0. M4.

. Price,
Five Cents.

 

SHE STOPPED TO HEAR WHAT HE EAD TO SAY.

IN THE BALANGE;

Or, A SHADOWED LOVE.
BY ARABELIfiOUTHWOBTH.

CHAPTER I.
LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT.
“WELL, you are hard hit, 01d fellow. I

never in my life before believed that you were
made Of such impressionable material. You
are as plastic as a bit of clay.”

“ Nonsense—nonsense, Clayton; I’m in no
mood for banter. Tell me who she is, and don’t
keep me in suspense any longer. "

“ A fairy—a bewitching little fairy, granted;
and her name is— But I am not sure I have
any right to tell you her name.”

“ G0 on, man.”

 

 

a IN THE BALANCE.

 

“ Well, itds a pretty name—a marvelously
pretty name. It is Muriel Faber.”

“ Muriel l” and there was a. sadness in
Philip Lazenby’s voice as be repeated the
name ofa young beauty he had seen for the
first time on that day, which extended itself
temporarily to gay Joe Clayton, for he stop-
ped for a moment in his banter, looking at his
friend in some astonishment as he went on, “I
had a sister called Muriel once. It is a name
in our family that usually brings grief.”

These two young men were school and college
chums, and now, at the age of twenty-five,
had both begun life for themselves in earnest.

Joe Clayton, who always looked on the prac-
tical side of every enterprise, intended to be a
rich man, he said; and having gone onto Wall
street as a stock broker, and being both shrewd
and practical was already beginning to turn
money around with advantage to himself.

Philip Lazenby was much more of a visionary
than “practical Joe,” and, at first starting, he
had had a strong tendency toward an artistic
life.

He had actually been known to have attempt-
ed the composition of a tragedy during his
leisure hours at college, and he was insane
enough to hope some day to have it acted. ,

But Joe would have none of this idiotic
nonsense, as he called it,- hermeticnlly sealing
his ears whenever Philip attempted to read
him a word of it, and signifying it as his in-
tention that his friend Philip should go in for
business like a sensible fellow.

He carried his point, too. After a good deal
' of waste of breath in argument and counter-
argument, Philip joined the large commercial
house of Burlington, Frost, and Co., extensive
importers from China to the United States.

He kicked violently against the traces both
before and after he gave in and followed his
friend’s advice; but he did follow it, and that
was the main thing.

Whether Messrs. Burlington, Frost, and Co.
would have an emcient servant or not remained
to be proved.

Philip Lazenby had been about six months
in the employ of these aforesaid gentlemen
when he first met, or rather saw, Muriel
Faber.

It was on a Sunday afternoon, the 10th of
December, a very wintry December, too, even
for our climate. It was a hard frost, and the
snow that had been falling thickly for at least
twenty-four hours looked dazzlineg white in
the sunshine as the two young men, skates in
hand, started for the north pond near Rah-
way.

The pond was crowded. They found va-
rious acquaintances on the ice, and both being
in the highest spirits, they enjoyed themselves
thoroughly, especially as Sunday was the only

 

 

day in the whole week when they could have
any recreation by daylight.

A young fellow by the name of Danvers
had been their companion all the afternoon.

He was a friend of Mr. Clayton. Philip
Lazenby had never seen him before, but in the
course of conversation discovered that he
lived in Rahway not a quarter of a mile from
the pond.

When it became too dark to skate, he sug-
gested that they should all three adjourn to
the large villa called the “Evergreen” and
join his mother and sisters at their five o’clock
tea, which it turned out. being Sunday, was
quite a repast, that amphibious meal known as
“ high tea.”

Philip, as a stranger, was introduced to and
received by Mrs. Danvers with much cor-
diality. '

She was a widow, who idolized her only
son, and delighted to do honor to his friends.

Opposite to him, when they had all sat down
at the table, was a. young lady who had come
into the room after the others, and to whom
he had not been introduced.

She was not a Miss Danvers. of that he was
very sure. The two he had already seen were
undersized, stout, dark-complexioned girls,
while this houri (for so he thought her) was,
though rather petite, perfectly well—propor-
tioned, with beautiful curling blonde hair and
a fair complexion, on which the color came
and went with every change of thought and
feeling. Her features, though perhaps not
regular enough for an artist’s model, were yet
full of expression, now archly piquant, now
melting into tenderness that was almost sad.

In a word, she was a beauty, and Philip
Lazenby’s heart was really on fire for the first
time. So much on fire that he could scarcely
bear to hear Joe Clayton and the Danvers
family generally talk familiarly in chafilng
jocularity.

She ought to be put on a pedestal and wor-
shiped, not addressed as if she were an ordi-
nary mortal. ‘

No wonder his friend Clayton told him he
was hard hit, and threatened to withhold the
young lady’s name.

The rhapsody with which Philip Lazenby had
talked of her after they bade Danvers good-
night and were in the train on their way back
to town was enough to make any individual
think twice before he decided to give any in-
formation on the subject.

They were walking fast through the New
York streets toward their respective homes be-
fore the name was actually uttered.

Clayton lived with his family on Twentieth
street; Philip Lazenby, whose people resided in
the country, in comfortable quarters not far
from the Claytons.

 

 

    

IN THE BALANCE. 8

 

After Philip had remarked that Muriel had
been a luckless name to those of his race who
had borne it, there was no more said on that or
any other subject till they reached the corner
of Twentieth street and Worth avenue.

Here Clayton stopped and shook his friend’s
hand warmly.

“ You’ll get over this nonsense in a day or
two, Phil, for I doubt if you‘ll ever see Miss
Faber again. She does not live with the Dan-
verses. She is only on a visit to them.”

“ Not see Miss Faber againl”

The very idea was maddening, and came to
him like a sudden stab for which he was in no
wise prepared.

“Where does she live? Tell me; I must
know where she lives!”

“Oh, somewhere in town; out toward Har-
lem. Her father is a Colonel Faber. They are
rather swells, l believe; at least, the Danverses
always pay Ella, as they call her, great
court, as if they considered her far superior to
themselves.”

“So she isl—-so she is! And they call her
Ella, you sayi—not Muriel? I am glad—very
glad!”

“ What an idiot you are, Phil, to care what
she is calledl Do, pray, divest your head of
all this nonsense. Come with me; the governor
and the mother will be delighted to see you at
dinner.”

“ Not tonight. No, thank you, Joe; I must
decline your invitation to-night.”

“ Well, I must be off-l It is just 7.30, and
my people are most punctual. Not that I am
hungry after those muffins and things Mrs.
Danvers made me eat. You, I suppose, feastcd
on love? Unpappy youthl I hope You’ll have
recovered by the morning. Ta, ta!”

Philip Lazenby vouchsafed an answer which
was scarcely gracious, considering the intimacy
that existed between these two men; and then,
turning on his heel, he went straight to his
rooms on Broadway.

These were very snug and comfortable. A
bright fire was burning in the sitting-room.
He threw himself into an arm chair beside it,
and for awhile remained absorbed in thought.

As he eat there, the flickering flame-light
playing about his brow, he presented no unpleas-
ing picture.

His features were regular—most people
would have called them handsome—and his
countenance, sat ofl by a pair of large black
eyes and along heard, was decidedly a very
genial one. Impetuoslty was strongly marked
there; but when was not impetuosity akin to
nobleuess and sincerity?

Whvther it was the result of Mrs. Danvers’s
good cheer, or the love on which Joe Clayton
hinted that he had feasted, it was very certain
that Philip Innenby did not seem at all inclined

 

 

to go out in search of a dinner, a meal for ‘
which he would usually put himself to any in-
convenience. '

So much so that the porlress, who had been
an old servant in the family, and consequently
thought it her duty to look after Master
Philip, put her head into the room, and asked if
he was ill, and whether she should get him
anything.

“No, thank you, Bridget; only tired. Be-
sides, I dined early to—day. I am going pres-
ently to have some supper."

The ofiicious old woman’s intrusion inter-
rupted the current of his thought, whatever it
was; and he got up, shook himself, put on his
great-coat and sauntered out, slamming the
door just as a neighboring clock struck nine. '

Considering the chilliness of the atmosphere,
he walked very sl0wly dewn toward Union
Square and turned into his club, a modest one,
in a by~street, which, however, had a good
many pleasant fellows on its list of members.

In the vestibule, as he pussod in, two men
were talking rather excitedly.

They were both known to Philip, and be
rather paused as he passed them to see if they
would speak to him.

A hot argument in the hall at that time on
Sunday night was somewhat unusual.

“ He was always the most peppery fellow in
the regimental” one of them was saying just as
Philip came up. “It is of no use minding
what a fellow like that says. He forgets it
himself five minutes afterward. Here’s Lanen-
by; he’ll tell you just the same as I do. You
know what a tree-spoken, ranipageous sort of
a man Faber is, don’t you, Lanenby?”

“ Faber—Faber?”

Had he heard aright, or was it that that
name had been ringing in his ears the entire
evening, and he could not free himself from it.

“I do not know any man of the name of
Faber,” he said, after a moment’s pause, in or-
der to recover himself. '

“ Nonsense, my good fellow! Not know
Jack Faber! Why, he’s here every dayl”

“ Then I suppose I am not here every day—
at least not at the hour he is—for I do not
know him.”

“On, I forget you were at business all day,
and he seldom'comes in the evening. He is
worth knowing, though, in spite of his quick
temper, which Black seems to think so very
objectionable. He has the best table and the
prettiest daughter in the city.”

“Idon’t care about men’s tables or their
daughters, if they insult me with their tonguel’
muttered a fierce, red-haired man called Black;
while Philip Lazenby, more perplexed than
ever, stood looking aghast at the first speaker,
11 cheery little follow that every one called
the Bijou, because he won '0 very fastidious

   

   

   
 

4 .

IN THE BALANCE.

 

 

about his appearance and the cut of his clothes,
loading his not very large person, moreover.
with an amount of jewelry which was perhaps
scarcely in accordance with perfect taste.

He had the entree to nearly every good house
in New York, however, his agreeable manners
and extreme good-nature outweighing all the
prejudice his little absurdities might have
raised against him.

“ Where does this Faber live, and what has
he been doing to Black?" asked Philip, when
his little stare of wonderment was over.

“He lives in the upper part of the city. I’ll
introduce you it you like. They’ve got a ball
on the 19th.”

“Don’t go, Lazenby. Faber isn‘t a gentle-
man. He called me an empty-headed cox-
comb!”

Lazenby laughed—perhaps he agreed with
Colonel Faber; most men at theMeanderers’
did, on that subject at all events.

The smile on Philip’s face provoked Mr.
Black—who was quite as peppery as Colonel
Faber—still more, and he vowed so loudly he
would have his revenge, that the unusual coin-
cidence of a row in the hall of the Meanderers’
Club seemed imminent.

'In fact, it required the concentrated joint
eflorts of both Philip Lazenby and the Bijou
to soothe Mr. Black‘s overflowing wrath.

Lazenby was delighted to tender his share
of assistance, for had not the meeting with
this irascible little coxcomb brought about the
very introduction that he wished for at that
moment more than anything else in life?

Mr. Black somewhat solwred down: he left
the club, and Philip followed the Bijou into
the dining~room, which at that hour was nearly
deserted.

The Bijou, like Philip, had been skating out
of town, and had not dined; so they both sat
down together, and before the rcpast they
ordered was over, the Bijou had promised to
take Philip to the Fabers’ reception the fol-
lowing Tuesday afternoon, and introduce him
to Mrs. Faber, when, he had no doubt, he
would receive an invitation to their ball.

Philip did not tell the Bijou a word about
his meeting with Miss Muriel at the Dan-
verses’ tea; but he wondered during the whole
evening afterward whether the beauty who
had usurped possession of his heart would have
returned home by Tuesdn'y afternoon.

 

CHAPTER I I
13013.

SHE was running her hand up and down a
magnificent Weber in the large drawing-room
in their city home, striking an occasional

 

chordf
Evrdently she was indulging u adream, and,

whenever now and nonin something very lik.x
a fact came forcibly to her mind, it asserted
itself in a chord.

Muriel Faber had seen Philip Lazenby more
than once since their first meeting at Rahway
and perhaps it was of him that she was dream-
mg.

He had not declared his passion in words.
To do so would have been premature and
well-nigh impossible, since he had scarcely
>03l’1 her for five minutes alone; but his large,
Hulk, love-pleading eyes had so plainly tolrl
.heirtale, that she would have had but little
womanly instinct had she not understood it.

After awhile her meditations take a more
roseate hue, for she leaves (if striking chords,
and dashes into a. brilliant dance melo ly.

It is speedily interrupted, however, by the
entrance of her maid, who carries a lovely
dress of silver tissue across her arm.

“I thought you would like to see it, Miss
Ella. Ihave just finished it, and us I knew
you were alone, I ventured to bring it in.”

“Oh, Ularkson, it is too lovelyl You are a
good, clever Clarkson, to make me a dress like
that. I hope people won’t say I want to out-
shine every one at my own ball to-morrow
night. It would be too horrid.”

“ You’d do that, whatever dress you wore,”
said Cldl‘kSOI), looking at her young mistress
with admiring fondness“

Clarkson was one of those appreciative ser-
vants who only care to bestow her talents on
pretty women.

“Muriel laughed at the compiiment. ,She was
used to compliments from Clarkson, and did
not attach much value tolthem.

Muriel was as really beautiful in mind as
she was in body, and she had not a spark of
vanity in her composition. She valued the
lovely dress, however, more especially as she
knew her delight in it would please her maid,
and Muriel’s chief aim in life was to give
pleasure to others.

“ Evrn papa will be delighted with that
frock; and you know how fastidious he is.”

Clurkson frowned

Yes, she (lid know how fastidious Colonel
Faber was—no one better.

He was no favorite with Clarkson, and if
she had. been pressed to give an opinion of
him, no doubt she would have indorsed Mr.
Black’s. '

But whatever Colonel Faber‘s foibles were—
and there is no doubt he was very testy and
obstinate—he, to all appearance, dearly loved
his daughter, and would have been prepared
on an emergency to make any sacrifice to ad-
vance her welfare and position in life.

We use the terms welfare and position ad-
visedly, for Colonel Faber would not consider
her happiness.

IN THE BALANCE.

5

 

He was one of those men who do not believe
in the existence of mental suffering.

Muriel, too, was very fond of her father in
a sort of a way. She did not respect him.
No man is ever respected who gives wnyto
the sudden and :11 mOst unprovoked outbursts of
temper that Colonel Faber did.

But he was her father, and as such Muriel
thought it her duty to uphold and love lim us
for as she could.

The being that Muriel did really love was
her brother Bob—an individual whom no one
ever saw, or even heard of. He and Colonel
Faber did not agree—that is, the young man
had never quarrels-d with his father on any
particular subject; but his father disliked him,
and sent him to seat when he was a 1nd of
thirteen; since which time, though he was now
five-and~twenty he had never returned to his
home to reside.

0n the rare occasions when he was on shore
he went to live at an uncle’s in the country,
who was a brother of Colonel Fabor’s first
wife, who was Bob’s mother, but not Muriel's.

These relations of Bob’s were good, kindly,
honest people—a. sort of gentile Miners;
whereas the connection of the second Mrs.
Faber were decidedly aristocratic and high-
toned.

Both Ccloml Fiiher’s wire: were dead when
Muriel was nineteen, and Bob five—and-twenty;
but the last one had always sneered at poor
Bob for his want of polish and his rough, out-
spoken tongue. Sho it was who had set his
father against him in the first instance, partly,
perhaps, because she was jealous of any linger-
ing fondness he might retain for his first wife,
partly because she did not caro for the boy’s
vulgar relations.

She regretted it all, however, before she
died, poor proud woman, but then it was too
late to alter matters.

Muriel’s opportunities thus for seeing Bob
had been very few and far between, rendered,
however, the more precious by their rareness.

When Mrs. Faber died Muriel was about
sixteen, and the night before her death she
commended Bob to the girl’s love.”

“Make up to him,” she said, “as much as
possible in what I have failed, and win back to
him his father‘s love.”

Muriel scarcely wanted this recommenda-
tion, since her own heart yearned toward her
brother; yet it strengthened her determination
never to lose sight of Bob, and the letters that

passed between them were very frequent; but ,

they were never spoken of in her father’s pres-
ence. -

An occasional surreptitious meeting, too,
was arranged between the brother and sister,
chiefly through the instrumentality of the

‘ Dimvers family, who were Muriel’s only con.
fidnnts on the subject.

By these statements it may be inferred that

, Colonel Faber was somewhat of a Tartar—fly,

J was he, a very Tartar—without even an out-

. ward coating of veneer.

i It has been said that tho Bijou promised to
introduce Philip Lazenby to Mrs. Faber and in

‘ truth a Mrs. Faber presided over the establish-

i went; but she was not the colonel’s wife, but

Ithi widow of one of his younger brothers,

1 who, from being almost penniless, was glad to

, accept the somewhat dependent position he
offered her as his housekeeper and chaperon

i to Muriel.

“ She was a little, faded, fragile woman, who
shook'in her shoes whenever she heard her
brother-in-law’s voice. and was even afraid of
Muriel because the girl would do things some-

‘ times at which she knew her father would be

j displeased; and yet she had not the strength of

i character to try and prevent her. Muriel
never talked to her about Bob.

i “Aunt Fanny is an amiable old thing,” she

was wont to say to the Dnnverses; “but she

counts for nothing.”

Without Aunt Fanny, however, Muriel
I could not have had balls or visits from young
l men; and Philip Luzenl-y would probably
:have never put his foot in the house; and a
’ good deal—well, a good deal of both pleasure
‘ and pain would have been spared.

Philip Lazenby had called twice, once with
, the Bijou, once alone; but he had not yet been

presented in due form to Colonel Faber.

He had made it his business to know him by
,sight at the Meanderers’; but Colonel Faber
; had no idea of Philip’s very existence.

For some reason, probably an instinctive
one, neither Aunt Fanny nor Muriel had men-
tioned the visits of this young man.

I They neither of them ever told Colonel

LFaber more than they were obliged, a dis-
agreeable outburst being frequently the result

i of mentioning the merest trifle.

I There was some one in the house who knew
about Philip Lazenby’s visits, however, and

I that some one was Clarkson.

, She had been sitting at her work by an up-
per window on the previons afternoon, trim-

ming the silver dress,

Occasionally, though Very intent on her oc-
, cupution, she looked across the street to rest
her eyes for a second or two on some other ob—
ject.

. Whenever she did so, they fell on Philip

, Lazenby, who was walking up and down, as
though he were waiting for some one.

“He is a. good-looking young man,” said'
Clarkson to herself. “I wonder who he is
, after?”

 

 

 

 

    

    

6 IN m BALANCE.

 

Just as she was asking herself the question,
the carriage drew up, and Aunt Fanny and
Muriel came in from a drive.

Clarkson put down her work, and got up to
go and attend to the ladies, casting, however,
a lingering look across the street as the car-
riage drove slowly away.

“ Here! If he isn’t actually coming here!
It is our Miss Ella that he’s after,” she mur-
mured, as Philip crossed over, came up the
steps, and, two seconds after, set the bell peal-
mg.

He had got away from his business earlier
than usual. In fact, since Philip’s first meet-
ing with Miss Faber, Messrs. Burlington and
Frost’s work had not been done as entirely to
their satisfaction as before that event.

He had managed to find out something of
the habits of the ladies of the Faber mansion,
and he was wandering about tomake sure that
the carriage had not returned when Clarkson
noticed him.

“ Yes, the ladies were at home ;” so Mr.
Lazenby made his call.

Two days before the ball! Odd that he
should have called again. Even Ella thought
so, though she made no remark about it to her
aunt.

But afterward she pondered the matter
over very frequently. He had not anything
particular to say. Certainly he had asked her
for the first waltz on the night of the ball; but
surely be had not come on purpose for that!

It was very queer, and his manner was so
queer. Did she like him? She did not know.
After the ball she would be better able to an-
swer that question. She hoped she should not;
and certainly she hoped he did not mean to
care seriously about her, for she was very cer-
tain her father would not approve, and the
difficulties of her life, which were not small
already, would be increased tenfold. She
wished the Bijou had never brought him to the
house.

This was the sort of color Muricl’s rumina-
tions were taking, when Clarkson interrupted
them with the silver dress. The praise Muriel
was bestowing on this perfect garment was in
its turn interrupted by a loud ring at the Vis-
itors’ bell.

“Who can that be at this time of the morn-
ing?” cried Muriel, as Clarkson hurried away
with the flnery she had been exhibiting.

Before she ran up—stairs she managed to find
time, however, to exclaim quickly, looking at
Muriel the while. “ Mr. Lazenbyl”

It was only a stray shot the astute maid had
fired, but it did not miss its mark.

Muriel grew instantly crimson to the very
temples.

“Mr. Innenbyi What should he come here

 

for?" she tried to ask indiflerently, but the
maid could not stop to answer.

She was gone; and till the butler showed up
the visitor, Muriel was left querying what on
earth Clarkson could possibly mean.

The mention of Philip’s name, and the look
that had accompanied it, annoyed Muriel not
a little, and she determined to have a thorough
Explanation with Clarkson as soon as she was

ree.

Clarkson, however—Philip—everything con-
nected with Philip, was put out of her head
the next minute as the glad cry of “Bob!”
burst from her lips, and her arms were thrown
around her brother’s neck. “When did you
come, oh, you dear old darling Bob?"

“I only arrived in the bay yesterday, and I
was so anxious to see your sweet little sisterly
face, that I thought I’d risk it and come
straight ofl! at once. The governor is out, I
hear.”

“Yes; and the aunt, too; so come and sit
down, and tell me all about everything, and
let us be as happy as if there wore no people in
the world save ourselves."

So saying, she pulled him down on the sofa
beside her, and then began to ask him endless
questions about his ship, and his health, and
his companions, what countries he had visited,
how he liked them, what he saw there, etc., etc.

In fact, the whole conversation consisted of
questions on Muriel’s part and answers on
Bob’s—not very wonderful, considering it was
eighteen months since Muriel had set eyes on
this dearly~loved brother.

“You ask so much, you don’t give a fellow
a chance of finding out anything about you,"
he said, at last. “You look pretty, though.
But, tell me, any danglersi—going to cheat me
out of half my love by getting married, eh?”

“Not thinking of such a thing. Cheat you,
indeed!”

But, somehow, 'Philip Lazenby’s image
flitted across Muriei’s vision as she spoke. She
did not let Bob see it, however, but went on
speaking rather fast.

“We are going to have a ball to—morrow
night. How I wish with all my heart you
could be here! I wonder, if I went on my
knees to him, whether papa would let you
come. It is such a shame that you should be
a stranger in your own father’s house, just as
if you'd forged, or swindled, or committed
some horrid crime!" 1

“I have; I have committed the crime of
having low-bred maternal relations. They are
a good sort, though.”

“Of course: they are better than some of
the Fabers. There is a black sheep or two in
our father’s family, I believe ”

And Muriel laughed.

 

    

IN THE BALANCE. 7

 

‘No, Ella: aristocracy can never stumble.
If it makes a trip, it always recovers its foot-
ing. It is only among the lower classes that
men are compelled to be honest in order that
they may be thought respectable."

And he spoke with a bitterness that he did
not often exhibit to Muriel.

“ You horrid democrat!” she cried. “Who
would think the blood of all the Fabers was
flowing in your veins? I’ll tell you, Bob, what
I’ll do—”

But what she was going to do remained un-
told, for she suddenly looked round, and saw
her father.

He had come into the room by a door at the
further end of the back drawing-room, and on
the velvet pile carpet his footfall had been
unheard.

 

CHAPTER III.
A PULKA.

Mum}: Penna looked quite lovely in the
silver tissue dress. Clarkson was right when
she decided that it was the most suitable fabric
her young mistress could wear.

And as she stood at the door with her aunt,
receiving the earlier arrivals among the guests,
there was a. radiant look on her face far ex-
ceeding even its wonted brightness.

Of course Pnilip Lazcnby was in good time.
He had gone'home from business :1. whole hour
earlier than usual in order to bestow it on his
toilette, though he was not usually a. vain
man.

He was to dine with the Bijou at the club,
and they were to go to the ball together.

“ Never,” the Bijou said, “had he been so
hustled and jostled oil’. If Lazenby were not
cracked about sweet Ella, surely he would not
be in such a hurry.”

Lazanby did not tell him whether he was in
love with Ella or not, but by dint of repeat-
ing, “ Come on, old fellow,” in various tones
of voice, he managed to get him to the scene
of festivity before the quarter past ten had
struck.

She received him most graciously; but she
said, “ I cannot possibly dance the first waltz
with you, Mr. Lazenby. As the hostess, it is
much too early in the evening for me to be-
gin dancing. I will so far keep my promise,
however, that the first waltz I do dance shall
be with you.”

Philip was a little crestfallen; but, after all,
it was only hope deferred; and he took up his
position near the door to watch and admire the
graceful way in which she received her
friends.

The only fault he had to find was that she
was too kind to them. Philip would have liked

\

her to be kind to no one but himself.

In truth, as Joe Clayton had said, he was
terribly hard hit.

There was a little man standing near Ella;
in fact, he never left her side, and occasionally
she looked round on him Withnfond, glad look
which seemed to make the blood curdle in
Philip’s veins.

Who was this man? Could he be an aspir-
ant—perhaps a. [lancer

He asked two or three people standing by
with whom he was acquainted, but none of
them could tell him who this man was.

The room filled very quickly, and after the
first two dances on the programme were over,
Mrs. Faber and Muriel left their places by the
door, the short, not very prepossessing-looking
man still tollowin Muriel like her shadow.

“Not a waltz, ob; I can’t; dance a waltz.
I have promised the fist I dance to Mr.
Lazenhy,”

“ But this is a polka.”

“ A polkal All right; come along. Fancy
pupa letting you come to this ball, and my
dancing with you, you dear old boy i”

And Muriel and Bob dashed into the vortex
of dancers right joyously, talking and laugh-
ing as they twirled round and round, not heed-
iug in the least a pain stricken face and a. pair
.ot' dark, longing eyes that watched their every

‘urn. '

This brother and sister were too happy to
have a thought at that moment for any otherI
being on earth besides themselves.

It was the first time they had been together
on their own ground, their meetings till that
evening having been for the most part clan-
destine, and they both began to hope that
Colonel Faber was relenting, and that, for the
sake of his daughter’s pleading, he intended to
look more favorably on his son.

Bobdid not tell Ella that i. was solely on
her account that he condescended to cross the
threshold of his father’s house, or that he
never could really forgive him for the slight he
had put on his mother’s memory, or the suffer-
ance on which he even now admitted him
within his doors.

He had accepted his father’s somewhat
grudgingly-given invitation to that evening’s
entertainment solely on Ella’s account, and he
resolvnd to enjoy it with her to the utmost.

Next day he was to go into the country to
spend a week or two with his mother’s rela-
tions.

The music of the polka ceased, and Bob and

 

Ella were still standing laughing together
i when a waltz struck up.

I ‘ Now it is Mr. Lazenby's turn,” she said,
, looking round.

I Philip had been there not two minutes ago,
, though she had not remarked him; but now he
i had disappeared.

  

    

IN THE BALANCE.

    

 

As he heard the first strains of one or
Strauss’s most inspiriting waltzes, he sauntered
slowly down the stairs.

“ She can dance with that fellow again.
Why need I trouble myself about her?” he
murmured to himself as he went in search of
his hat and coat.

The crowd on the stairs was tolerably dense.
He could not get down very quickly; and
meeting several people he knew, he was com-
pelled to stop and talk to them, so that by the
time he reached the hall the waltzing was
over, and the dancers, flocking down to the tea-
room overtook him while‘ he was uttering
platitudes in a very distmit manner to a cer-

tain old Mrs. Astor, who was voted by every
one a deaf old bore.

The Bijou, with one of the Misses Danvers on
his arm, whispered as he passed him:

“Nice mess you’ve got into! Miss Faber
has been waiting for you all this waltz. You
had better go and make your peace forth-
with.”

The end of a story Mrs. Astor was relating
about how she had caught a fearful cold in her
head, and been made quite deaf by not finding
her carriage quickly at the theater two nights
before, was lost on him.

“ Miss Faber had been asking for him? Im-‘
possible! She was far too much taken up with
that odious little square-set man.”

He couldn’t say this to the Bijou, however,
for he had gone on; so he paused fora mo«
ment.

“N 0; he would not be made a fool of. He
would go and get his hat.”

He looked up the staircase as he turned to
go to the end of the passage where the coats
were.

Bob, with the other Miss Danvers, was
coming down. They were both laughing
'merrily.

“Every one could be happy except him. He
would change his mind again; he would not go
away. He would go up-stairs and dance; but
he would not take the slightest notice of Miss
Faber. It was well for him that he‘ had
ascertained that she was a flirt, and not to be
relied on.” ' _

He pounced on the first pretty-looking girl
he saw and was acquainted with, inv1ted_ her to
dance, and went upstairs with her on his arm.

01! course he met Miss Faber on the first
landing. _

She looked at him in some surprise; but he
did not attempt to apologize.

He considered that she had thrown him over
by dancing the first dance with another; and
she was as angry as a modest girl could be at
the treatment she considered she had received
from him.

V

 

Before they were well acquainted they had
quarreled and misunderstood each other. It
did not promise well for the future; that is,
if, in the future, they ever intended to speak
again.

Muriel looked very thoughtful for a second
or two; then she went up—stairs to her own
room and sat down to recover herself, if possi-
ble, away from the dizzy throng.

Her enjoyment for that evening seemed
thoroughly marred.

“For a stranger, too, a mere acquaintance
whom I have known barelya week! Imust
be simply a fool to allow anything he either
says or does to influence my spirits,” she ex-
claimed at last, starting up. “I will go down
at once and enjoy myself to the utmost. With
my darling old Bob in the house fancy ever
thinking about this Mr. Lazenbyl”

And giving her hair a twitch as she passed
the glass and the skirt of her dress the slightest
pretense at rearrangement, she went down-
stairs just as Bob was coming rushing headlong
to know:

“Where she was, or if she was ill.

They went into the ball-room together, pass~
ing Philip Lazenby without taking any notice
of him.

How could Muriel know that his heart was
thudding against his breast with mad jealousy
and that he would gladly have strangled Bob
on the spot! '

Muriel was speedily surrounded by clamor-
ous candidates, both of the eligible and ineligi-
ble order, for a dance, and to all appearance
every shade of annoyance had disappeared from
her fair brow.

And the evening swept quickly on till
supper was over, and the rooms began some-
what to thin.

She was standing in the bay-window of a
little room, which opened out of the drawing-
room. ‘

It was filled with flowers and lighted only
with colored lamps. Muriel’s silver dress
shone like a gleam of light in the semi-
darkness.

She had been dancing with young Danvers,
and he was her companion now.

Mr. Lazenby came to the door with Miss
Danvers. When he saw Muriel he became
white as death, and would have turned to go
away, but Miss Danvers held him captive.

“ It is only Ella and Frank. They have no
secrets, I am sure. Have you, Ella?”

There was a slight restraint in her manner
when she recognized Mr. Lazenby, but she an-
swered, genially:

“ No, dearest—nonel In fact, we are never
going to have any secrets again now Bob’s
come back.”

IN THE BALANCE.

 

“ Wasn’t I glad to see him here to-nightl
How did you manage it?”

“Oh, pupa happened to come in yesterday
just us Bob, having got leave from his ship,
had ventured into the house for half an hour.
To my surprise he was quite amiable to him;
said, in a pompous way he has sometimes:
‘My son, I am glad to See you safe back in
your own land ;’ and finally invited him to
come tonight.”

“ Bruvissimol—and Bob accepted. So good
of him to forget old grudges in such a. friendly
fashion 1”

“Yes; but I really don’t believe he cares
about papa; he says he should not have come
save to please his little sister.”

During this conversation between the two
girls, anenhy and Frank Danvers had been
talking together; that is, Frank Danvers had
been doing the talking and Philip had been
straining every nerve to hear as much as he
could of this conversation about Bob.

“Her brother! Good Heaven! How he had
maligned her! What must she think of him!
He had, of course, lest every inch of ground he
hud ever made with her. What should he do?
Oh, if the two Danvers would only go away
and let him throw himself at her feet and im-
plore her pardon i” ,

Frank did assist his wish without, perhaps,
knowing of its existence, for, turning to the
two girls, he said:

“ If you and Bee are going to gossip, Miss
Faber, I must be off, as 1 am engaged for this
dance.” I

“ All right, go on. We are coming directly,”
his sister answered.

And they began to make a move, Miss Dan-
vers following closely her brother out of the
boudoir.

Now or never was Philip’s chance.

“ Miss Faber, one word, I entreat you! Can
you ever forgive me? Can I ever forgive my-
self?”

She looked at him in disdainful silence, but
stopped to hear what he had to say.

That was a point gained at all events.

But, having got thus far, Philip began to
hesitate.

The explanation was not an easy one unless
it was thorough, and how could he dare tell
this girl on such a short acquaintance that he
loved her tondly—devotedly, from the very
first moment he ever saw her?

Half-measures, however, must not be dealt
in, or his cause was lost.

“ I thought—I believed—that is, I feared—
but now I know—he is your brother.”

It was a very incoherent statement, but
Muriel understood it at once, and understand-
ins it, burst out laughing.

Perhaps it was just allttlo bit of comfort to
feel that this man was jealous.

Because she laughed, Philip concluded she
was not angry, so recovered some of his self-
possession.

“ From the day I saw you at Rathy you
have ever been present in my thoughts. Your
beauty has— 0h, Miss Faber, it you only
knew what I am suffering.”

“ I am sorry—very sorry I” answered Muriel,
in her turn growing surprised; “ but I do not
know what you want me to do."

“Give me some little consolation—one word
of hope, that in the future, perhaps, I may be
allowed a nook in your heart.”

“I have not known you many days, and
yet—n

“ Yet you do not exactly hate me? Oh,
say that you do not, sweet, lovely, gentle
Ella!”

She evidently was not displeased by this out~
burst, since her eye twinkled with a sort of
pleased expression that did not indicate exactly
love. nor altogether amusement.

“I don’t hate you, certainly,” she said; “but
I have not known you long enough to be quite
prepared to—to—care about you.”

“But you will forgive mo for my naming
discourtesy to-night? You will ascribe it to in
true cause, love unbounded, uncontrollable love
for you?”

“ I will forgive you—yes. But at the some
time don’t be attended it I say that I think
you just a little mad." And she really did
laugh as she held out her hand to him. “ Come,
Mr. Lazenby, let us join the dancers, or ob-
servations will be made over our delay.”

“ One moment. Give me some promise—
some hope to carry with me into the future.
You will think of our conversation tonight,
and give me a meeting, will you not!"

“Think of iti—oh, yes. And of course we
shall meet here, and at the Donversea’. We are
neither of us going to be locked up, are we!—
unless you are going into a lunatic asylum,
you madman. Let us take a turn.” '

She had not snubbed him; on tho cultury,-~
she considered she had given him very great
encouragement.

But he, of course, was not satisfied. . ,

Not even when she laid her hand on M01
arm and said, “This ll a lovely waltz; lot on;
take a, turn, and dance away the recollection
of that one which you preferred to put down-
stairs.” ‘

Philip Lazenby was a good dancer—few
better; and as for Muriel, her sylph-like figure :
was graceful in its every movement. '
, Yes, he was quite happy for the moment,

still all earthly bliss must have“: lile y

When they stOpped, it was by the door.

 

 

    

IN THE BALANCE.

  

 

Colonel Faber was leaning against it, a
frown pnekering up his brow.

“ Who is your partner, Ellai” he asked, loud
enough for the young man to hear.

"Mr. Lanenby, papa. Let me introduce
him?"

The two men bowed, but the older one did
not look gracious.

“ Lesenby l—Lszenbyl Are you a son of
Philip Iianenby, formerly of The Ridge Bank?”

“Yes: I am his second son.”

And Philip looked delighted at the idea that
Colonel Faber knew his father.

His next remark, however, damped the
young man’s ardor.

“ Bpendthrift your father was always. I
knew him well as a youngster. How he has
managed to keep out of bankruptcy as long as
he did, I can’t conceive.”

" My father seldom confides his private ar-
rangements to me,” answered Philip with some
stiffness.

“ Oh, yes, by the by, your mother had
money. I suppose it was tied up pretty tight,
or it would have all gone too.”

If he had not been Muriel’s father, Philip
felt he would have struck him.

Now he understood full well why Black and
others called him a “ crustaceous old curmudg-
eon."

He controlled himself, however, and only
said, again speaking very coldly. “My mother
is dead.”

But Muriel came to the rescue.

“Papa, you are spoiling all our waltz; and
you know I love dancing. You must go into
old reminiscences with Mr. Lasenby some
other time.”

And she danced Philip off out of interfer-
ence’s way.

4When, after a turn or two, they stopped,
she said, “Papa is a little short in his manner,
sometimes, but you must not mind him. You
will like him when you know him better. Now,
however, I think you had better leave me.”

“ Yes, yes; I understand. Perhaps it were
wiser; but when shall I see you again!”

“Oh, soon- very soon. On Sunday, per-
haps, at Rahway. I often go there on Sun-
day, and I am sure to go next Sunday with
Bob. He was going down into the country to-
mwrow, but he has put it 03.”

Was this an assignationl

Muriel scarcely intended it for such; but
Philip instantly rushed oi! across the room to
chat excitedly with Frank Danvers, leaving
him with almost as much precipitation to ask
one of his sisters to dance.

If he thought these young people did not
see thronghhis maneuvers he was quite mis-
taken; for as soon as the brother and sister
were together the tonne: whispered;

 

“ Awfully gone about Ella, isn’t he! Do you
think she reciprocates?”

“Not sure,” was Bee Danvers‘s reply. “ She
isn’t quite herself tonight. I rather like him,
don’t you, Frank?”

“I don’t know. He looks crazy. I must ask
Joe Clayton about him. It will never do to
have him at Rahway when Ella is there, unless
he is all on the square.”

“ No: of course not."

And these two young people looked as sedate
over the love-making which, in their wisdom
they thought they had discovered, as if the
knowledge of it had added twenty years to
their lives.

 

CHAPTER IV.
GOOD or.

IT is a fair spring day. The “ Evergreens,"
where the Danverses live, is basking in the early
sunshine, and the flowers which for months
past have been hiding themselves away from
the chill blasts of an unusually severe winter
are showing their graceful heads once more
above ground.

A good many events of interest have occur-
red since they went away and left drear desoo
lation behind them; nor with their return have

' they invariably brought back gladness and joy

at least not to the hearts of all those who dwelt
at the Evergreens.

Frank is as cheery and good-tempered as he
was on the night of the Fabers’ ball.

The winter does not seemed to have tried
him particularly, yet 'just now he appears a
little anxious as he looks out of the window as
though expecting some one to arrive.

Philip Lazenby and Joe Clayton!
coming up the street now.

He will see them in a minute, as soon as
they have passed that knoll of trees. ’
Very down-spirited they both look; some-

thing is amiss with one if not both of them.

“Cheer up, old fellow,” Clayton is saying;
“ it is very brutal of old Faber to make you go
abroad. But there! he is a brute—see how he
behaves to his own son. Take my word for it,
the time will soon pass —quicker than you
think; and you’ll return with pots of money,
to wed the angel of your love’s young dream.”

“Three years at least I shall be absent; it
is all very fine to talk of the time passing, but
think of three years! I told you, Clayton,
Muriel is an unlucky name.”

“ What stuff you do talk! Why ,you may
think yourself wonderfully lucky to have get
old Faher’s consent at all. You know he had
some grudge against your father, and said you
came of a spendthrift lot.”

Philip heaved a deep sigh.

This concession o: Colonel Faber’s that he

They are

 

IN THE BALANCE. ll

 

should go abroad for three years and join a
large mercantile hone in Hong Kong, was
even worse than no consent at all, as in the
latter event he might have run away with the
fair Ella the day she was twenty-one.

Colonel Faber, however, was wise in his
generation; perhaps be anticipated some such
measure, and thought he would wrest a prom-
ise from the young man to go to China. for
three years. At the end of which time, if
they were both of the same mind, they should
be married, he said.

Probably Colonel Faber thought that one or
both of them would change in opinion by then,
and that by this easy process he should rid
himself of a marriage that was very distaste-
ful to him.

Philip Imzenby had fallen into the trap and
consented to act according to his wishes; and
now, his honor being involved, he must keep
his word.

.It; was, however, a very, very severe trial;
how great a. trial he scarcely knew till that
bright sunshiny April afternoon when he was
on his way to Rahway to bid farewell to his
belovei Ella.

She had made a. tryst with him there, feeling
that she could bear the parting better if, when
it was over, she would be surrounded by the
Danverses’ sympathetic faces, than it she had no
one near her but her poor little washed-out
aunt and her father, who she knew would
glower at her with eyes which could not fail
to mark his disapproval.

The Danverses’ had almost persuaded the lov-
ers to come and have their last meeting at their
home; but now that the day was come, they
all felt so uncomfortable that they regretted
they had put themselves in the position to have
their feelings so tortured. Both the girls were
in floods of tears, and even Frank was by no
means at his ease.

The calmest and most self-possessed person
in the house was Muriel herself. Not that she
did not feel the parting most acutely, but she
was not a. girl who ever gave way much to her
feelings. The education she had received,
always being compelled to hide her feelings
from her father, was the probable cause of
this.

She looked deathly white, and her hands
were as cold as marble, when Frank, from his
post of observation, announced that Philip
L'xzenby and Joe Clayton had turned the cor-
ner, and were even then crunching the grave!
in the garden in front or the villa beneath their
feet.

Frank Danvers was a Harvard undergradu-
ate, and was at home for the Easter vacation.
Pleasant boy though he was, most of the in-
mates of the villa would rather he had been
absent that April day, since, by his observa-

 

tions, he rather succeeded in fanning the flame
than in subduing it.

“Come out, Frank,” said Bee, who was the
object of Bob's especial aflection—“ come out.
Mime will, of course, talk to Mr. Clayton; and
if you and I are out of the way, those other
two will have a chance.”

By which it may be observed that the pair-
ings were pretty general at the Evergreens,
and that it was a nest in which every pretty
little bird had her mate.

“ All right; we‘ll go and spoon, if you like,"
said impudent Frank. “You can imagine I am
Bob, and give my uninitiated heart a lesson in
the art of love.”

“You dreadfully rude boy, you know so
much more about that sort of thing than I
dot”

“Do I? 0h, Bee, that won’t go down!”

And chairing his sister in a fashion that was
mOst thoroughly fraternal, the two made their
escape out of the back door before Lazenby
and Clayton could come in at the front one.

As Bee Danvers had observed to her brother
Clayton speedily appropriated Mirna, and the
two lovers, who were to part so soon, were left
alone; for Mrs. Danvers, who detested anything
in the shape of a scene, purposely remained
upstairs in her own room.

“You will be true to me, Ella, whatever he-
falls—promise me that you will be true?”

“Do you know, Philip, you almost insult me
by asking me such a question?"

And Muriel tried to look dignified.

“My darling Ella, don’t be severe oh me. ‘ I
am so wretched at this parting, and I have a
presentiment that your constancy will be some-
what severely taxed.”

“Nothing—not even the most determined
persecution—will make me waver in my faith
to you. I hope I may be called on to endure
persecution, in order that I may show you how
firm I can be. There, sir! And now tell me
whether I can depend on you as thoroughly?”

“Ella, death alone will prevent me from
coming in three years to claim my wife.”

“And now,” said Muriel, “ having exchang-
ed vows of constancy in approved melodram-
atic fashion, let us see it we cannot be just a.
little bit rational.”

True woman that she was, Muriel exhibited
more courage than she really possessed in order
to increase Philip’s. When he had gone, it
would be time enough for her to give way to
tears, she decided.

To be rational, however, was the one thing
Philip could not be that day.

He was as restless as a man in a. (ever.

He wandered about the room, talked at
times most despondently; then suddenly chang-
ing, became radiantly sanguine; in fact, he-
haved altogether so like a madman, that poor

 

 

12

IN THE BALANCE.

 

Muriel thought that she had indeed accepted a
somewhat onerous task when she had under-
taken to love and obey this uncertain, rhapsod-
icnl gentleman.

She comforted herself, however, with the
belief that when once they were married
he would settle‘down and be more like other
people.

Even a heartrending lovers’ parting must at
last come to an end.

Joe Clayton and Mirna returned from a
walk they had been taking in the town.

It was nearly five o’clock; the two men must
return to town.

The train for San Francisco, whence Philip
was to sail, was to leave at eight, and he still
had several things to do.

At the last, Clayton, who intended to see
him safely on board, had several things to do
for him, forso overcome was he by parting
from Ella, that he was totally incapable of
thinkirg or caring about anything for him-
self. '

The farewell was a. bitter one, but it was
somewhat hurried over by Joe Clayton,
who did not see any use in a prolongation of
misery.

A form of excitement which, so closely do
extremes meet, was almost an enjoyment to
Philip, but which, the others suspected, was
nearly killing Muriel.

And they were right.

No sooner was Philip Lazenby really gone—
gone for three years—than all her assumed
courage fled, and giving one piteous cry she
fell down in a dead faint on the floor.

The Danverses did all that kindness and con-
sideration could suggest to make poor Muriel’s
trial lighter, but to bring back to her her for-
mer high spirits was impossible.

Even to make her tolerably compossd and
cheerful during the first few days after
Philip’s departure was more than they could
accomplish.

And when the period of her visit—just a
week—was over, she went back to her home,
looking such a. feeble representation of her
former self, that Clarkson cried out in angry
tones of regret.

She did not know which to blame the most
—-Mr. Lazenby, for daring to interfere with
her young lady’s peace of mind: or Colonel
Faber, for sending away the favorite lover.

As for the latter all-potent individual, he
did not take any notice of- the alteration in
Muriel.

In the arrangement he had made for her fu-
ture, perhaps he did not think itawould be al-
together expedient. I

For a few weeks after Philip left, life went
on much as it used to do before Philip Lazenby
ever went there—that is, to an outward ap-

 

pearance; for Muriel strove very hard not to
let her relations know how severely she was
suflering from this separation, and she was
always amiable and ready to enter into what-
ever plans were suggested for the day’s occu-
pation or amusement.

The only person who really knew anything
of the state of Muriel’s feelings were Clarkson.

Not that Muriel, by any means, made a
confidant of her; but the maid knew her young-
mistress, that she could not fail to See the great
change in her.

Meantime, where was Bob?

Away with his ship in the South, and able
only by an occasional sympathetic letter to
take any part in his sister‘s trouble.

It was the end of June.

Philip Lazenby had been gone two months;
long enough for any girl to get over a love-
affair, so Colonel Faber thought; and as he
heard no bewailing and saw no tears, perhaps
he thought she had done so.

He had not reckoned on the depth of his
daughter‘s affection.

“I have invited a few people to dinner for
next Thursday,” he announced at breakfast
one morning. “See the cook on the matter
yourself, if you please, Muriel, and see that
we have a. most recherche little dinner. It
is quite time you began to attend to these
things.”

Muriel looked at her aunt, who had always
been the housekeeper, and wondered what she
would think of this order.

But the meek, crushed woman only said,
gently:

“ Quite right, my dearl—my brother-in-law
is quite right!”

That there was some meaning, however, in
this innovation, Muriel felt very certain: but,
wonder as she would, she could not make out
what it was, so she Carried out her father's
wishes, leaving time to unravel the rest.

It did so all too soon for Muriel’s peace. L

When the Thursday night of the dinner party
arriVed, she came down, looking pretty and.
sweet in a. new pink frock of Clarkson’s device,
which, though becoming, made her look paler
than she had done of late.

“You look as white 11 a sheet, child. We
shall have to buy you a rouge-pot,” Colonel
Faber observed so roughly when he went into
the drawing-room that the color came into her
cheeks without the range pot.

The guests began to arrive. Some of them
were known to Muriel, though Colonel Faber
{and never condescended to tell who Was com-
n .

gresently Mr. Tudor was announced, He
was a. man about eight-and-thirty, of decidedly
unprepassessing appearance.

Muriel had never seen him W0”, find when

IN THE BALANCE 13%

 

he was introducad to her she at once decided
in her own mind that she did not like him.

He was not a refined-looking man; and, in
spite of his apparent wealth might easily have
been mistaken for a shoeblack.

He took Muriel down to dinner, for another
order of Colonel Faber’s was that on that occa-
sion she was to sit at the head of the table—a
position which Mrs. Faber had always filled
since she had been in her brother-in-lnw’s
house. ‘

If Muriel’s first impression of Mr. Tudor
was a disagreeable one, conversation with him
did not serve to improve it; in fact, she found
it very difficult to make any conversation with
him at all.

In intellect he was decidedly below par, and
the only amusements in which he indulged be-
ing billiards and card-playing, fast horses and
various kindred subjects which had very little
interest for Muriel.

She chatted with him, however, as pleasantly
as she could, helping him to a fresh subject
whenever he stopped for want of something
new to say.

Colonel Faber had argued wisely; in fact, he
could not have been a truer prophet had he
been told what was going to happen. Mr.
Tudor was thoroughly taken by Muriel’s win-
ning ways.

“ Charming!” he muttered to himself—
“charmingi She’s just the wife for me.
Helps a fellow so dooced cleverly when he gets
hard up for a remark. Old fellow got some
money, too, I should think—comein very con-
Veniently.” Then, turning to Muriel, he asked
out aloud: “ Have you any brothers, Miss
Faber?"

“Yes; one.”

His face tell, but Muriel did not notice.
She was too pleased at having so congenial a
subject presented to her as Bob, whose good
qualities she loved to dilate on.

By the time she had worn it tolerably thread-
bare, she perceived that her aunt was blinking
at her to make a move and conduct the ladies
up-stairs.

“Miss Faber loves her brother with all her
heart, but the colonel won’t leave him a cent;
hates him, for some reason,” the Bijou, who
sat next to Tudor, managed to whisper while
the master 0! the house was moving to the top ‘
of the table. E

The Bijou always liked to retail information. '
On this occasion it seemed almost as if he had '
been paid to do so in some way or other.

His communication had the eflect of making 1
the other much more gracious to his best than
he certainly would have been if he had thought 
the good round sum of money, which every one I
knew Colonel Faber possessed, was to be left to 1

 

that paragon of naval lieutenants, Brother
Bob.

Once more in the drawing-room, Mr. Tuilor
soon found himsulf at Muriel’s side; and she
was very civil to him, simply for the reason
that she was rather sorry for a man who
seemed socially to flounder as he (lid.

0! course he totally misconstrued her mean—
ing, and went off under the impression that
Muriel was quite in love with him.

Not that she was the only young lady he
had succeeded in fascinating—that is, according
to his own calculation. Their number was
legion; but in this instance he was rather at-
tracted himself.

By which soliloquy it may be obsarved that,
it poor in intellectual attributes, he was rich in
vanity.

His first call in the morning after the dinner
at the Fabers’ was on the Bijou. He wished to
subject that seemingly well-informed little
dandy to a severe cross examination regarding
the Faber family affairs.

Now, the Bijou knew all about Philip Lazen-
by. Had he not himself introduced him into
Colonel Faber’s house? Still, he never men—
tioned his name to Mr. Tudor. for the very
reason that he was a most objectionable little
reptile, and wished to curry favor with Colonel
Faber by furthering the views which he had
communicated to him in regard to Muriel and
Mr. Tudor.

Everything that the Bijou said had the ef-

. feet of making Mr. Tudor more and more anx-

ious to marry Miss Faber, and of taking home
a mistress to Tudor Hall, a fine old place up the
Hudson.

The result of the conVersation, then, was that
he wrote, assisted by Bijou, for his own dicta-
tion was not of the purest, a letter to Colonel
Faber, asking permission to try and win his
daughter‘s hand and affection.

A request which, before twenty-four hours
were over, was acknowledged in the most gra-
cious manner.

Colonel Faber, though thoroughly delighted,
made it appear that he wanted lime to decide,
because he thought it looked better.

Having written his answer, he next went
into Muriel’s boudoir, where she was engaged

, in writing a long letter to Philip.

She thrust it out of sight when she saw her
father, who, however, perceived what she was
doing, but took no notice.

He put Mr. Tudor’s note before her on the
table.

“0! course you have told him that such a
thing is quite impossible?”

“Indeed, I did not.” ‘

“ Why, what do you mean?”

“Mean? Well, you see, my child, now

 

   
  
   
     
    
  
 
 
   
   
  
   
   
  
  
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
        

IN THE BALANCE.

 

Lazenby has gone, there is always a chancel

that he will never come back. You surely do
not mean to lose all your best days waiting
while a careless ne'er-dowel] like Lazenby
tries to make his fortune?”

“ In three years, papa, you said we might
marry.”

And Muriel's lips grew as white as her hand-
kerchief while she spoke.

“ Lazenby will have no more money in three
years than he has now, my dear Muriel. I
should not bedoing my dutyto you as a parent
if I allowed you to marry a man without a
dollar.”

“As long as Philip Lazenby lives, no power,
however severely used, will induce me to
marry, or give the slightest encouragement to
any other man!”

CHAPTER V.
FLIGHT.

“ 03, Bob, Bob! if you were only here, surely
no one, not even my father, would dare to treat
me thus!"

And Muriel’s whole heart went out in that
one wild cry for Bob.

Philip was far away, already beginning to
think of making money as a partner in the
great house of Burlington, Frost and Co., at
Hong Kong, into which he had managed to get
by means of the relationship of his late mother
with Mr. Frost: but even if he had been in
America, he could scarcely have helped Muriel
as Bob could have done _in the emergency in
which she was then placed.

After six months’ persecution upon the sub-
ject of Mr. Tudor, during which Muriel had
stood very firmly to her point, it seemed al-
most as though affairs were about to reach a
crisis.

Tudor, like most weak people, was obstinate
in the extreme; and having once taken it into
his head that he wanted to marry Muriel
Faber, he was not going to be put of! it on ac-
count of what he was pleased to call alittle
“ school-girl ” opposition.

If he had only tormented her with his love-
tokens and his appeals for affection, she might
have suflered it; but he was perpetually talk-
ing to Colonel Faber on the subject, begging
him to use his influence to urge her into this
marriage.

And Colonel Faber’s influence meant that she
had received of late tolerably rough treatment
at his hands.

In fact, it had come to this. She must
either agree to marry Tudor, he had told her
that morning, or leave his house and find some
other home; but not a dollar of his money
should she have for her maintenance.

No wonder, then, that in such a strait asthis
she cried aloud for Bob. She was too proud to

 

live on the charity of friends. To whom, then,
could she turn but to her brother?

He was expected home shortly, but when
would he arrive; and having arrived, would he
come at once to see her?

She knew nothing.

For weeks, by her father’s orders, she had
been obliged to give up all communication
with the Danvers family, who, Colonel Faber
said, encouraged her in her absurd hankering
after Philip; and they were still the only
means of communication between Muriel and
Bob.

For though Colonel Faber had invited himto
the ball, so whimsical and uncertain did they
know their father to be, that they judged it
expedient not to change any of their old plans
for corresponding.

Since this forced cessation of intercourse be-
tween Muriel and the DauVerses, she had re-
ceived no tidings of Bob. .

He probably would be told by them that she
was in trouble at home; but, away as he was in
distant seas, what could he do to help her, even
if he could have heard her wild cry of, “Oh,
Bob] if you were only here!”

Colonel Faber heard it, however, if Bob did
not. He had but just left his daughter after
an unusually stormy interview, when she ut-
tered it, and the hearing of it did not particu-
larly improve her position in his opinion.

“ If Muriel was so determined to resist him
that she would go to Bob if she could only get
the chance—well, she might do her worst. She
would leave his roof or marry Mr. Tudor; of
that he was quite resolved.”

But Muriel was as determined as he was.
She would be true to Philip. No power on
earth would ever make her marry any one
else!

Twenty-four hours to make up her mind;
that was all her father had given her. It was
thoroughly made up now, only where could
she go?

It was useless to appeal to Aunt Fanny; she
was so afraid of Colonel Faber, that she was a
mere cipher. The Danverses, Clarkson—who
always managed to know something about
other people’s affairs—had told her, were away
on a pleasure trip.

Joe Clayton would help her, for the sake of
his friend Philip. But how could she appeal to
a man?

No; she had but one friend in the world, and
that friend was Clarkson.

She believed she was faithful to her; at least,
she always professed to be, so she would try
her now.

Muriel had never been one of those girls
who make a. confidante of their maid, but she
was in the direst extremity; if Clarkson could
not help her, then her cause was indeed lost.

  

in THE BALANCE.

  

in

 

She did not ring for her, but ran impulsively
up-stairs into the front room, where Clarkson
sat at Work by the window.

She looked so excited and wild, that the
maid threw down her work, and looked at her
aghast.

“Oh, Clarkson! you must, you will help
me, will you not? Papa says if I do not con-
sent within twenty-four hours to marry Mr.
Tudor, he will turn me out of his house, to go
wherever Iplease! And I cannot marry Mr.
Tudor. You know, Clarkson, I have pledged
my word to Mr. Lazenby.”

“So it has come to this, has it? Always
thought that Colonel Faber’s brutality would
drive you to something at lastl”

“Hush, Clarksonl Please do not abuse
papa. I must do what I think right in life
for myself and Philip, but I would rather not
hear anything against papa. I have no doubt
he thinks he is acting for the best.”

“ Well, you are a good, generous-minded
young lady!” cried Clarkson, looking at her
young mistress in admiration; “ and I should
be worse than a heathen if I did not help you
to the utmost.”

“Then you will—you will—oh, you dear
old Clarksonl I don’t know what I should do
without you. Well, tell me what is to be
done?”

“In the first place, Miss EllaI do you know
that Mr. Bob's ship is due on the Nth—that’s
next Wednesday 1"

“Bob coming home! Thank God! thank
Godl But how do you know anything about
it, Clarkson’l”

“I thought matters were sure to come to a
crisis before long, so last Sunday, when I took
my afternoon, I made it my business to find
out all I could. The Danverses are all away,
except Mr. Frank. He’d just come back from
the beach, on his way to college. He told me
all as he could. I didn’t tell you any of this
before, because you didn't seem as if you
wanted to know.”

“Not want to know that Bob is coming
home? Oh, Clarksonl”

Clarkson, however, was not so superior to
her class but that she had that little foible of
touchy jealousy with which they are all more
or less imbued.

She had not been asked, so she would not
speak. Now, however, that Muriel had con—
sulted her, she would serve her to the death.

“ Next Wednesday Mr. Bob comes, and this
is Friday,” she repeated, as though wishing to
imprint thoroughly the condition of aflairs on
Muriel’s mind.

“ Well, what do you advise me to do! Papa
will send me away long before Wednesday un-
less I consent to marry Mr. Tudor.”

 

  

“ Don’t wait to be sent away, Miss Ella. I’ll
pack your things and mine, and we'll leave the
house the first thing in the morning.”

“ Go away i” cried Muriel, in surprise.

“ Yes, miss; my sister’s husband’s cousin
has got a house downtown that he lots in
apartments; we’ll go and stop there till
Mr. Bob arrives, and il‘ he can’t square mat-
ters up a bit with Colonel Faber—well, he
ain’t much good as a naval onloer, Ishould
Ba .11
“What will papa say when he finds I have
taken the law so completely into my own
hands?”

“Why, that you are his own daughter, I
should say. Look you, miss, don't do it if you
don’t like. It ain’t no advantage to Inc to
press you either way. If you prefer to stop
here and be bullied, well, it’s nothing to me."

“But the money, Clarksoni It will costa
lot of money, and I have only got ton dol-

ars.’
Ten dollars till Wednesday! Lord, th bl!
of it is abundance!”

“But then, you see, I may never got any
more, if papa. remains seriously angry.”

“ And Mr. Bob! Isn’t Mr. Bob coming
home?”

The idea of seeing Bob decided Muriel, who
was half afraid of the bold scheme Clarkson had
suggested.

“Very well, Clarkson, pack up the things,
and we’ll go tomorrow morning very early,
unless papa tells me in the course of the day
that he withdraws Mr. Tudor forever.”

But Colonel Faber had no intention of with-
drawing Mr. Tudor; on the conh'ary, that
gentleman called in the afternoon, and though
Muriel declined to see him. still the fact of hi.
being there worried her not a little.

Meanwhile, Clerkson made all preparations.
She packed up a small but useful amount of
baggage, not forgetting all her young lady’s
jewels, and she took the precaution to carry
most of the things quietly out of the house
after it grew dark, leaving the one hulk
which she was compelled to take to be called
for by one of her own relations, and conveyed
to her cousin’s home while the late dinner was
going on.

She and Miss Ella would then be ablcto
walk out of the house in the morning without
observation.

During the entire day Mariel tool: but little
notice of Clarkson. She had so far connntcd
to the plan, yet the idea of leaving her father's
house in this way filled her gentle, loving
heart with dread.

In fact, that matters would be M to
such an extremity she could not altogether bo-
llovc. the morcsouthc hours. excepting for

     
   
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
   
  
   
   
  
   
   
  
  
  
    
  
   
  
  
   
   
  
   
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
   
  
  

 

 

IN THE BALANCE.

 

 

the visit of Mr. Tudor, succeeded each other in
monotonous routine, and no incident of any
kind occurred.

Mr..’.l‘udor had, on being refused admission
'to the house, gone straight to the club, where
he felt sure at meeting Colonel Faber, and had
laid his complaint before him couched in very
severe terms.

He knew Miss Faber was at home, he said,
for he saw her at the drawing-room window.
Her declining to receive him was, then, a de-
cided act of discourtesy.

From this further adverse move on Muriel’s
’ part since the conversation he had with her in
the morning Colonel Faber of course concluded
that she had no intention of being obedient to
his wishes; and he went home furiously angry,
determined to carry chastisement to the ut-
most limit: of paternal authority.

-He could scarcely contain his anger till the
servants had left the room; but the door once
closed on them, he broke forth in language
'whioh made poor little Mrs. Faber look more
withered and crumpled than ever, but which
'ouly served to render Muriel more resolute and
defiant than to one of her gentle nature would
have seemed possible.

In fact, a scene ensued of which the colonel
oughtto have been thoroughly ashamed; and
perhaps he would have been so had he not been
beside himself with wrath.

So furious was he, that Mrs. Faber, fearing
real mischief would accrue, was compelled at
last, even against her will, to interfere, and
beg the girl to leave the room for the sake of
dear life. V '

Nothing 10th to get away from a tempest so
-iittle in aocordanw with her feelings, Muriel
took the earliest opportunity to escape to the
door and to rush upstairs, forgetting, too, that
.she was leaving Mrs. Faber quite unprotected
to receive the full vials of her father’s anger.
~ She was not a brave woman; but few toadies
are brave, and that Mrs. Faber was a toady
there was little doubt. She managed, however,
to weather the storm, and to defend herself
and ' the absent Muriel with an amount of
honestdetermination which even surprised her-
self.:

Meanwhile, Muriel scarcely took breath till
she tound Clarkson, who was taking of! her
bonnet on her return from her cousin’s, where
she had deposited the trunk.

“. No more hesitation,” she cried. “ I cannot
stand these scenes, Clarkson. They will mu
.m", I

you, my poor darling mistress! I
should think they would. Whatever the colo-
nel‘ii'thinkiag of I can’t imagine. He must
be a perleot barbarian!”
' 'Thistime Muriel did not attempt
her when she abused the colonel.

to check

     

She only asked in a voice choked wilh sets
—tor the result of the scene in the dining-
room was that she had become quite hysteri-
cal—“ Have you prepared anything for our
departure?”

“Everything. Good gracious! I have not
wasted a single minute this blessed day. Just
come along to bed now, and keep yourself
quiet a bit. It’s no use worrying! When the
colonel finds you have taken him at his word,
and gone away, he’ll only be too glad to give
in, so that he may have you back again. Them
violent people are always like that. It’s a
pity Mr. Lazenby ain’t here to marry you
straight ofl’, and have done with it."

Muriel did not attempt to answer her; she
was so exhausted by what she had gone
through, that even the power of utterance
failed her, and she allowed herself to be led to
her room, undressed, and put to bed by Clark-
son as dociler as if she had been a baby.

“There now, try and go to sleep, and for-
get your troubles for a bit, there’s a deariel
Missie,” said Clarkson, who was quite devoted
to her young mistress, “I’ll call you when it
is time to get up, and we’ll be off and try and
enjoy ourselves as well as we can till Mr. Bob
comes. Only five days; think of that!”

But Muriel could not sleep. She tossed rest-
lessly from side to side, sobbing.

Was this to be the last night in the little bed
she had slept in since she was a child? If so, it
was such a miserable one that she could not
altogether bring her mind to regret it.

Once she thought she heard her father’s
voice, and she trembled. as she lay there; her
father, who till now, though a violent, dis-
agreeable man to most people, had never re-
fused her smallest wish.

She was almost thinking of ringing the bell
for Clarkson to come and protect her, but the
sounds died away, and once more she lay sob-
bing in peace.

She did not know that Clarkson, suspecting
that Colonel Faber would come up “to let ofl’ a
little more superfluous steam by bullying her
young missis,” as she called it, had looked the
bedroom door outside and put the key in her
pocket; and she was right. When he appeared,
however, she gave him such a severe reprimand
on his conduct that he went down-stairs again
rather ashamed of having given his daughter’s
maid the opportunity of blaming him for his
behavior.

Early in the cold January morning, long be
fore it was light, Clarkson unlocked the door
and crept into Muriel’s room.

I “What! wide awake already? Well, get

! up, there’s a dear heart, and don’t be afraid.

l Think as it’s all for Mr. Philip’s sake a you are
enduring this blessed martyrdom.”

1 There was just a ray of happiness in the

 

IN THE BALANCE.

17'

 

thought, and Muriel saw it as she got up with
a sad smile on her face.

In less than an hour she was dressed in the
warmest clothes Clarkson could devise, and
having swallowed a cup of tea which the
thoughtful servant had prepared, the two fu-
gitivvs went softly down-stairs before any one,
even the under-housemaid, was astir.

They walked to the corner, and there they
took the elevated road down—town; and very
soon Muriel, feeling that she had done with her
old home forever, was being whisked along at
a. brisk pace toward her destiny.

 

CHAPTER VI.
was LETTER. -

THE little villa. at Rahway where the Dan-
verses live, though basking in the sunshine of a
lovely April day, looks very solemn and still.

It is exactly a year since Muriel and Philip
bade each other good-by in that very place;
and if there was a mournful air about the
place then, notwithstanding the smiling aspect
of nature all around, it is ten times more
mcurnful now.

Yet the shutters are not closed; the house
has inmates.

Ay, but they walk about on tiptoe, and
speak in whispers when they meet; nor are
any of the pleasant it rather plain faces of the
Danverses to be seen at the door or windows.

At the back gate two men are talking in low
tones. One is Bob Faber; the other is Joe
Clayton, the absent Philip’s trusty friend.

That some dreadful catastrophe has occurred,
their serious faces and low whispers would lead
one to believe; and that it concerns Muriel, the
occasional mention of her name reveals.

She has not married Mr. Tudor: she is much
too loyal and determined for that; but she is
upstairs in the Danvers villa in so precarious
u state that her life is despaired of.

"She went to Clarkson’s cousin’s to await
the arrival of her brother’s ship; but days
grew into weeks before it arrived, yet still
they dwelt on there, no word reaching them
from Colonel Faber.

Perhaps he did not know where they were,
or knowing, thought that time and the want
of the luxuries of life would bring his obsti-
nate daughter to her senses.

If so, how mistaken he was!

Muriel had too much of his own nature in
her, though more nobly directed, to turn back
one foot on the path on which she had set out.

It was dreary work waiting for Bob, and
her finances were getting very low.

Still, it never Occurred to her for one mo-
ment to go back to her father’s house and
crave his pardon for oflenses which she did not
feel she had committed.

 

She must be dependent on Clarkson; and
even if she took in plain needlework to eke out
a modest subsistence she would not return.

At last, however, Bob‘s ship was in port,
and life for Muriel was somewhat easier,
though it perplexed good honest Bob not a lit-
tie to know what to do with his sister.

She could not stop where she was —in fact, he
himself would leave the city directly; nor
dared he take her to the country relations,
though he knew they would give her a. hearty
welcome; but he feared to raise his father’s
wrath llill more inVeterater against her.

Unless the Danverses would incur the respon-
sibility and blame of harboring Muriel, he did
not know what he was to do with her.

“Of course they would; as long as she liked
to stay in their house, it was hers. Why, al-
though they were at the Beach, had she not
better go there at once with Clarkson?"

Nothing could be kinder than the letter Mrs.
Danvers wrote in reply to Bob’s; and, of
course, the girls would be thoroughly delight-
ed to have their dearest friend with them for
a good long time.

To Rahway, then, Muriel went, attended by
her faithful Clarkson. and right hearty was the
welcome she received.

There was not one member of the Beavers
family who did not side with her against
Colonel Faber, and sympathize with her trou-
bles to the fullest.

But cheering though the reception was that
friends gave Muriel, she did not seem to ral-
ly.
For the first day or two after her arrival,
she seemed depressed and out of sorts, her de-
pression Settling at last into such positive illness
that Mrs. Danvers sent for the family physician,
who at once ordered his patient to bed, and
drew a very long face as he thought over her
case, refusing however, to give her ailment
any actual name till the morrow, when he
would see her again.

His flat then was that every one had better
leave the house, save those in attendance on
Muriel, as she had contracted what was likely
to prove rather a bad form of small-pox.

Consternation and dismay prevailed in the
camp of the Danverses when this was made
known.

Each member of the family bravely said she
would stay and nurse Muriel; but at last it
was decided that Mrs. Danvers and the two
girls were to take their departure, leaving
Clarkson, who would resign her post as nurse
to no one; while Bob, who had been tele-
graphed to, should remain in the house to give
what necessary help he could.

Bob had been in the haunts of sickness too

1often to be afraid now;and as for Clarkson,

she was impervious to every feeling save the

 

 

   
 
    
    
  
  
  
  
   
    
   
  
 
 
   
   
  
   
    
  
    
   
   
   
  
 
 
   
   
  
    
   
  
    

IN THE BALANCE.

 

knowledge that her young mistress was in dan-
ger.

For three weeks Muriel was too seriouel y ill
to know aught of what was passing around her,
or even to be aware of where she was; but to
Bob it was a subject of much pain that his
father had never once shown any sign of inter-
est in the child he had once so ardently pro-
fessed to love.

About a week after Muriel had been taken
ill, Mrs. Faber had driven down from town,
and stopping in a. lane not far from the villa,
had sent for Bob, and made many inquiries,
professing at the same time to be terribly
afraid lest her brother-in—law should know she
had been there.

She never came again, so Bob imagined that
Colonel Faber, having found it out, had judged
it inexpedient that she should repeat the visit.

Joe Clayton was the mest constant visitor,
and daily were the colloquies he held with Bob
at the back gate—talks to which Bob looked
forward with more pleasure than be even
knew himself, since Joe was the only person
to whom he could unburden his heavily-charged
mind.

At last, Muriel was declared out of danger.

A little careful nursing for a. while, and
time and youth would do the rest.

Why, then, do both the young men look so
grave as they stand together by the gate, since
that very morning what has just been said had
been the doctor’s verdict?

To live? Yes. And to Bob, who loves his
sister dearly, the news is joy; but to her, will
life bring happiness? Are there not instances
in which perchance death were the greater boon?

They were both thoroughly aware of Philip
Lazenby’s impressionable temperament, and
the eflect that beauty had upon his senses.

Would Muriel be as beautiful after as before
this illness! was the question they put each
other, and both dreaded to answer.

If she was not—and neither of them thought
that she would be—might she not perhaps lose
Philip's love; and, losing it, where would be
Muriel’e hope of happiness in life?

Neither of them dared put this surmise into
spoken words; yet it was strong in both their
minds the day they flood together at the back
gate after Doctor Jenkins had said that Muriel
was to live.

Both of them, unknown to the other, wrote
letters by that evening post to Philip Lazenby,
telling him that his sweet young lover was out
of danger, but neither even hinted at the possi-
bility of a change in her appearance.

Three weeks more, and Muriel was convales-
cent—so convalescent that she could walk a
little in the garden with the assistance of Bob’s
arm, when he was not drawing her about in an

invalid chair, which was his favorite occupa- 31

l

 

tion, in turn with Joe Clayton when the latter
came to pay his daily visit.

All danger of contagion was over, the doctor
said, and next week, since Colonel Faber had
shown no sign, Muriel was to go and pay a
visit to Bob’s uncle in the country, just by
way of having a little change till the house
should be fumigated and the Danverses return to
the town, from which they had been banished
for so long.

Muriel’s face was red and scarred. She
would never again be the beautiful Muriel
Faber, said every one who saw her; but she
herself took no heed of the fact, and never
alluded to it either to her brother or Clarkson.

Either she thought the marks of her late ill-
ness would wear out, or she had too little van-
ity to think the matter worth consideration.

The evening before she was to set out for
Evans Mills the pos‘man brought her a letter.

“From papa! You never told me, Bob,
whether he sent to inquire after me while I
was ill; but of course he did.”

“Not much of that, Ella; but let us hear
what he says now,” answered Bob, 8. little am—
biguously.

As soon as she opened the envelope, a check
for one hundred dollars fell out of it.

“ The governor is coming to!” exclaimed
Bob, as he picked it up.

He changed his mind, however, when Muriel
read the letter, which she did aloud.

It was to the effect that, considering the cir-
cumstances under which she had left his house,
he could not openly inquire after her condition,
yet he had watched the progress of her illness
with interest, and as he did not wish his
daughter to be at any one’s charge, he inclosed
a check to pay expenses.

At this period of the letter Bob burst out
laughing. He could afford to laugh now Muriel
was nearly well.

She read on:—

“ But as he understood from those about her that
she was disfigured for life, he hoped she would re«
gard her illness as a just punishment for her treat-
ment of his wishes,and return forthwith to her duty."

The letter fell from her hand as she read this
sentence, and she became so pale Bob thought
she was going to faint.

He picked it up hastily, and would have torn
it to pieces, but, recovering herself with an
eflort, she snatched it from him.

“ Let me finish it, Bob; let me see the whole
truth.”

“ Of course,“ it went on, “but few men would be
disposed to marryagirl who was no longer over

retty; but Mr. Tudor was one of those who believed
n beaut of character rather than in beauty of
form, an was as read to make her his wife as he
had been before her Klness. It only remained for
her to come back at once to her home, give her con-

sent to this union. and let all disagreeable discw
ons cease."

IN THE BALANCE. 10

 

“ And Philipl What will Philip think of
me?” she cried, when she had read the letter to
the end.

“Philip is an upright, honorable man, and
lows you. Ella, do you doubt himl”

“No, Bob, no; but I wonder if he will be
very much shocked when he sees me. I did
not know I was so dreadfully disfigured l”

“ You forget my father’s habit of exaggera-
tion, especially when it suits his purpose.”

“Then you think I will soon look like the
old Ella you and Philip used to level”

“I hope so, my darling sister; every day
that passes you will improve.”

“And by the time Philip comes back I shall
bevall righti"

“Yes, dear; unless the account of your ill-
ness brings him back at once.”

Muriel shook her head.

“ He can’t come till the end of the time he
promised papa he would wait.”

“ If Philip were never coming back you
would never marry this Tudor?”

“No, certainly not. But what makes you
talk of Philip not coming back? Do you know
anything about him‘l”

“Nothing whatever. I asked more from
curiosity than anything else. We stick to the
programme. I suppose you do not return to
your home?”

“ Most emphatically not."

An answer to this effect was written to
Colonel Faber, and the subject dismissed from
their minds; but, from that evening, Muriel
was changed.

Her spirits of late had been more like her
old self, and each day, as she grew stronger,
her merry laugh was heard ringing more and
more joyful through the now cheerful villa.

From the time she received her father’s lat-
ter she was perpetually looking at herself in
the glass, and then turning away with a mourn-
ful shake of the head.

In the country life, among Bob’s relations,
with whom she might have enjoyed herself so
much, she took no apparent interest, but when-
ever she could get away from her companions
she would sit for hours alone, apparently doing
nothing but thinking.

“ I will release him from his word. He
shall be free. If I am so hideous an my father
says, and which the glass corroborates, why
should I bind Philip to my lot for life i”

CHAPTER VII.
m mmoa ran-rm

Pam? Lanna! is Iitting alone in his pri-
vate room in the range of buildings belonging
to the great firm of Burlington, Frost and 00.,
at Hong Kong.

The mail has just come in, and a pile of un-
opened letters is lying before him. He has run

 

 

his eye over the addresses. and selected one in
a well-known handwriting, that of Joe Clayton.

Its perusal evidently gives him subject for
much thought, for he pushes the others away
as though their contents were wholly uninter-
esting, while he reads and re-reads Joe Clay-
ton’s missive.

‘ ‘ Colonel Faber has not kept his part of the
agreement; why should I keep mine! I shall
go home at once. 80 he thought to banish
me for two years to this infernal place, in the
hope that he should thus get rid of me alto-
gether? By Jovel but I’ll be even with him.

“ Hullol what’s this—a postscriptl

“ ' Muriel very ill; her life has been despaired of

but she‘s turned the corner now. Clarkson and Bob
nursing her night and day.‘

“ He does not say what is the matter with
her. 01! course it’s worry. Poor little darv
ling Ella, with a heart as true as steel, how
comes it that you are the daughter of this
man? 0! all the dishonorable, cowardly acts,
to send me out here, and as soon as my back
is turned to set to work and try to make my
little girl marry some one else! But never
mind; he has freed me from my promiseto
wait two years. I’ll just square up affairs
here a little bit, and see if I can’t catch the
steamer on the fifteenth.

“ Messrs. Burlington and Frost will not be
delighted to see me in New York again, but I
must make my story good with them some-
how, and now I’m junior partner, they can’t
turn me out, that’s one comfort. Nesbit, the
chief clerk, knows more about the business than
I do; he‘ll manage wall enough for a few
months; but whether he does or not, I don’t
care; I’m going home. I won’t have Ella
bullied to death by that horrid old father of
here."

This was the sort of current in which Philip
Lazenby‘s thoughts flowed as he sat there,
with his letters before him, in the sweltering
noontide.

When he had read Joe Clayton’s letter once
more, and thoroughly decided that he would
start as soon as possible, he began to open the
other letters very carefully. They for the
most part related to business matters.

Really, Nesbit must attend to them; he was
in no mood for buying and selling that morn-
ing! Ella’s image came between him and every
row of figures that presented itself—sweet,
graceful, beautiful Ella!

Her illness did not seem to make so much
impression on him as the fact that Colonel
Faber had turned traitor.

Of course, she was ilL How could she be
well when she was so tormented? But the
sight of him would soon set matters to rights.
He would telegraph when he got to San Fran-
cisco, and prepare her to receive him. .

..--d

 

       

20

IN THE BALANCE.

     

 

Still he went on opening letters.

“ A woman’s writing—Bee Danvers’! Awful-
ly good of her to write! ‘ They had all left the
house; no one there but Bob and Clarkson. A
most dreadful time, the fear of contagion al-
ways making illness more terrible. However,
they must be thankful that the poor patient
was really getting better.’ What the very
deuce did it mean? Had she a fever, or what?
Clayton did not give her illness a name; yet
Bee wrote of contagion. Typhoid fever, he
supposed, from being bullied into a. low state.”

And so engrossed was he at this period of his
reading by the account of Muriel’s illness, that
he did not even attempt to open any more let-
ters; but ringing a. hand-boll near, sent the
messenger who answered it for Nesbit.

The old clerk, who had not left Hong Kong
for fourteen years, and looked very like a dried-
up bit of parchment, saw at once that there
was something wrong with Mr. Lazenhy.

He had become rather accustomed to Philip’s
sudden flights of fancy; but he saw there was
something more the matter with him to—day
than usual.

“ I have had bad ' news from America, Nes-
bit. The young lady to whom I am engaged
is very seriously ill. I want you to take over
the direction of all the affairs of the house. I
must start for home at once.”

“ Going home, are you?" answered the clerk,
looking at him with a twinkle in his little
sharp eyes. “It won’t do much good, I sus-
pect. She’ll be dead or well by the time you
get there.”

Philip knew that Nesbit was of a cynical
turn, and that he had an especial contempt for
women, always aver-ring that women invaria-
bly set business matters wrong, so he did not
attempt to answer him directly, but merely
asked, rather sharply, “ Do you not feel equal
to undertaking the sole management of the busi-
ness arrangements?”

Nesbit smiled.

“ Ay: I can look after- the flrm’s interest in
China,” he said.

As well without as with Mr. Philip Lazenby,
he might have added, had he not been a pru-
dent man: for Nesbit had no opinion of Philip
as a man of business.

“ Well, never mind, then. Take all these
confounded letters, and make the best you can
of them,” cried the junior partner, shoveling
the whole mass of letters, opened and unopened,
together, and pushing them toward his clerk.

Nesbit sat down in a corner of his office,
read each letter carefully, made notes from it,
docketed it—in fact, subjected it to a regular
business inspection.

Having finished all the opened letters, he
next directed his attention to those which
Philip Luanby had not looked at.

 

“ Private 1" he muttered, as he tore open the
envelope of one of them.

He read it nevertheless, and determined
to destroy it without showing it to Philip.

It was from the Bijou—a would-be friendly
but utterly false missive—condoling with him
on the illness of his lady-love. He did not
spare him by giving the disease no name; on
the contrary, wondered whether the ravages
it would make on her beauty would lessen his
adoration for her, and make him only too
pleased to let her follow her father’s wishes,
and marry Mr. Tudor.

“ That’s a bad man,” decided honest Nesbit,
as he finished the perusal of the Bijou’s epistle;
“and I’m sorry for that poor lad, though he
is no more fit to be a partner in the house of
Burlington and Frost than my hoe. Can’t
think how he ever got there unless he paid a
big sum of money; and he says his father’s
poor. Dare say there was a woman in it;
there mostly is.”

During this soliloquy Nesbit tore up the Bi-
jou’s letter, and thus saved Philip, for the mo-
ment at all events, a bitter pang. Perhaps if
he had seen it he would not have gone home so
promptly, but have given himself time to con-
sider matters.

As it was, he knew nothing, save that Muriel
was ill, and that Colonel Faber had been false
to his engagements, so he started by the
steamer on the fifteenth.

Naturally, he chose the straight route, and
followed his first intention of telegraphing
from San Francisco to Joe Clayton. That
telegram Muriel received, forwarded by Joe,
just as she was penning the vu'y letter which
was to set Philip free.

“ Home—coming home at once—will be
here in this very room, looking at me in a. few
days!” And she started up, and stood survey-
ing her features in the looking-glass for some
seconds. “ If Philip only loved my beauty,
all his love is gonel Why is be coming home!
Oh, that I might remain under the delusion
that he cares for me just a little longerl—that
I should live to regret the time that brings my
Philip back to mel”

And she threw herself on a couch close to
her and began sobbing as she had not sobbed
since the day Philip left her. And because he
was coming home.

When the sobs had well-nigh spent them-
selves, she lay very still for some time, her
head buried in the soft cushion.

Suddenly the door opened, and some one
coming in quickly made her look up.

It was Philip!

She gave a. wild cry of fear, and once more
buried her face among the cushions.

Philip’s arm was round her in a moment.
“Mydarlingl—my own darling Ellal" ho

IN THE BALANCE. 31

 

,

said. “ I am come back all the way from
China on purpose to fetch you. We will be
married at once and Colonel Faber must do
his worst!"

Still Muriel lay weeping in his arms.

“ Will you not look at me? Give me one
ray of your beauty—one glad smile?”

But she did not attempt to turn round.

“Why, Ella, what is this? Are you not
glad that I have come back?"

And Philip lifted the head off the cushion,
since of her own free will Muriel did not at-
tempt to look at him.

One glance, and he knew all the truth. She
sawthe expression of horror that swept sud-
denly over his face, and understood only too
fully the bitter pang this sudden revelation
had brought to him.

She hid her face once more, this time on his
shoulder, and for some seconds there was a
painful silence—no word was spoken between
them.

Philip was mastering a strong emotion; till
he had mastered it he did not dare trust him-
self to speak, even though he could feel her
heart beat as she sat agonized and trembling in
doubt as to what he would do.

At last, concealing his disappointment as
well as he could, the better feeling of his na-
ture predominated, and, smoothing her hair
gently with his hand, he said, in very soft, low
tones: “My poor, dear Ella, be calm, Ientreat.
It grieves me sorely to see you so distressed.”

All the passion seemed to have died out of his
voice, and given place to a sort of brotherly
affection.

Was it his words or the manner in which he
uttered them that made her look up at him
suddenly with a searching look in the bright
eyes which, in spite of illness, had lost none of
their luster.

“ I will be brave—very bravel" she said,
striving to be calm. “ I have been preparing
myself for this meeting, but I scarcely thought
it would come so soon. See, there on the table
is a letter. I was writing to you. Please read
it, Philip."

He took it up mechanically at her bidding,
and walking to the window with the closely-
written lines—for the letter was not a short
one—he set himself to reading it attentively.

Perhaps he wished to gain time, collect his
scattered senses before he felt he could speak to
Muriel in the old love-notes of a year ago.

Behind the sofa on which Muriel was sitting
there were some heavy curtains, and on the
other side of them a small ante-room.

By the time Philip had finished reading the
letter, she had disappeared through these cur-
tains so quietly that he had not heard her go;
and by a door in the ante-room had gained the
mt of the house and her own room.

 

Time for reflection was thus given him.
That the result would be honorable and noble,
all those interested in Philip Lazenby must
hope, yet that he sought to profit by the pause
was perhaps not wholly to his credit.

When he found Muriel was gone he gave a
little sigh of relief, and began to walk up and
down the room as though fighting out the ques-
tion with himself at every issue.

The solution did not apparently come readily,
and he would have given the world for some
one to consult. But Bob had left that morning
—besides, how could he talk to her brother on
such a subjecti—and Joe Clayton was in New
York. He had met Philip at the railway sta-
tion on his arrival, and had told him where
Muriel was.

There was only just time to gallop through.
the city to another station, and catch the next
train for the place where Muriel was.

Impetuous Philip had but one idea—to see
hisv love again; and now he almost regretted
the speed with which he had come.

“Should he go down the stairs, put on his
hat, and sneak silently away back to the Hong
Kong counting-house?” his evil genius whisper-
ed. 'l‘hen a better spirit spoke.

“ Is Muriel less sweet, less amiable, less true,
because a cruel hand has damaged her beauty i"

“No; but can you endure the daily sight of
this marred and unlover face?” replied the
evil.

“It will he a severe trial —but your honor!P
responded the better angel. ,

“Ay, his honor; and what is a man without
his honor? A mere worthless sham, from
which the sooner the earth is cleared the bet-
ter.”

The word honor brought Philip to his senses.
He sat down and snatched up the pen with
which Muriel had written this letter tohim.
He wrote on a scrap of paper:

“Dnaass'r ELLA:—

“Come back to me. Your pied ed word once

given to me you cannot retract, and am till death,
“ Your devo ed

‘£ 11‘ ."
He rung the bell, and desired a mrvgntmwho

answered it to take the note at once to Miss
Faber, and then again he paced the room, im-
patient this time for her return.

When after a few minutes she came back
with his note in her hands he received her with
extended arms.

“Philip, I cannot accept this sacrifice from
you i" she cried.

But Philip, having made up his mind, had
thoroughly mastered his repugnance at all
events for the time, and he told her in the
glowing words of old that there would be no
sacrifice unless he was called upon to part with
her, and that having come all the way from
China,at the risk of incurring Messrs. Burling-

 

 

2‘1

IN THE BALANCE.

 

ton and Frost’s heavy displeasure, he did not
intend to return there without a wife.

What could Muriel do but believe him, es-
pecially asshe had not been a witness to the
recent struggle?

So she agreed to bravo her father’s anger,
and marry him as soon as Bob could be com-
municated with and arrangements could be
made, and then she took him into another
room and introduced him to Bob’s uncle and
aunt, good homely people, who received him
with a hearty welcome, who rejoiced over the
improvement in Muriel, for never had she
looked as well since her illness as she did to-
night.

Yes; she laughed and talked, and seemed
bright and joyous, but Philip could not help a
half-sigh of regret as he thought of what
Muriel was in that dear dead past which could
never come again.

 

CHAPTER VIII.
MAN AND WIFE.

“ I TOLD you that Muriel is an unlucky
name.”

Joe Clayton shrugged his shoulders, and by
the expression of his face it was obvious that
some discussion the two friends were having
was decidedly distasteful to him.

They were sitting together in Lazenby’s
rooms, where his faithful friend had been only
too delighted to welcome him back again on
his return from China.

“ Unless you mean to make her happy, it is
a pity that you didn’t break 011 the engage-
ment and proclaim yourself a puppy at once!”
Joe says, giving the andirons such a vigorous
kick that he sets them jingling.

“Make her happy! 0! course I intendto
make her happyl What do you mean by tak-
ing that sort of tone with me?”

“ Well, you see, Philip, you are always go-
ing on about the disfigurement and the change
in her, and all that sort of thing; and as a
friend to you both I can’t help observing that
if you let her see your feelings on the subject
it will make her perfectly miserable, and you
had better at once give up all idea of the mar-
riage.”

“What nonsense! I am sure I think I act
my part to perfection, but naturally I can’t
help feeling a little disappointed.”

“Act your part! Then you acknowledge
that you are acting a part when you still pre-
tend to care for her? 0h, Phil, Phil, I could
scarcely have believed that things had come
to so terrible a pass! Would it not have been
better at once to have told her the truth when
in MM altered to let you tree?”

 

“You seem to forget, Joe, that there is such
a thing as honor in the question?"

“No—pardon rue—I do not; but this same
honor, according to you, demands that as long
as you both live you must go on acting a lie,
and professing to love this woman, never by a
sign or a breath letting her know that she is
(‘ther than the dear, sweet, angelic Muriel

which in truth she is) she once was.”

“Good gracious, Joel since when have you
taken to view life so seriously! When I left
for China you were the most flippant of all the
‘don’t cares.’ ”

“In my most flippant days I never could
have stood by quietly and see a. woman
wronged."

“ Now, look here; we’ll have no more of
this, if you please. There is no woman being
wronged that I am aware of. I have come
home all the way from China to marry Miss
Muriel Faber, and I intend to marry her, and
make the best of it. I dare say our married
life will be very much like other people’s mar-
ried life, if only kind friends will let us alone.”

Joe Clayton bowed his head, and did not at-
tempt to answer. If Philip was disappointed
in the change in Muriel. his disappointment
would scarcely be keener than Joa Clayton’s at
finding what he considered so little straight-
forwardness in the character of the man he
had regarded for years as his most intimate
friend.

If Muriel was altered in outward appear-

ance, there was little doubt that the alteration
in Philip’s feelings more than equaled it.
g To think that the radiant love-dream in
which he had reveled, and compelled all his
friends, more or less, to participate in, should
be so thoroughly dispelled—the rose-tinted
glasses through which he had always looked on
Muriel’s beauty be exchanged for cold, gray
ones, which made her look deformed and
hideous in his sight!

He could do nothing, then, but watch mat-
ters as they drifted, and trust by an occasional
well-timed word of advice, to be able to keep
Philip true to the honor about which he made
so much ado.

In less than a week after the conversation of
the two men, the marriage was to take place—
quietly, of course, since Colonel Faber’s con-
sent was not even to be asked.

In fact, he had never been informed that
Philip had returned.

If he had found it out, it must have been
from the Bijou, or through some such distorted
channel.

Bob’s old relations, who had nothing to gain
or lose by pleasing or displeasing Colonel
Faber, were much pleased that the marriage
should take place from their house.

They probably did not altogether regret

 

IN THE BALANCE.

 

being enabled to pay off some of the scores
they had against the imperious colonel for the
many slights and annoyances he had heaped on
them and their beloved nephew, Bob.

Besides, they had taken an especial fancy to
Muriel while she had been staying with them;
and how could they guess that the desperate
love for her, which had once raged so furiously
in Philip’s heart, had died suddenly into a
mere flicker, when he saw how illness had
changed her?

Bob was to give the bride away, and start
two days afterward for the city, to join his
ship. He, too, was perfectly happy in the be-
lief that Philip was devoted to Muriel, and
that once married she would be at peace.

0n the morning the marriage was to take
place quite privately in the village church,
with no witnesses save Bob and his old aunt
and uncle, a dispatch came from Joe Clayton,
saying that he had ascertained that Colonel
Faber was quite an courant of all that was
going on, and that he intended to put in an
appearance in the church, and forbid the cere-
mony.

Every one was in a state of bustle and agi-
tation except the bridegroom elect. Perhaps
he almost hoped that Colonel Faber would ar-
nve.

At all events, he professed to treat the
whole matter as nonsense; said Colonel Faber
could do nothing, that he would knock him
down if he attempted to interfere.

The clergyman was sent to, however, and it
was arranged the ceremony was to take place
at ten o’clock, which was an hour earlier than
was originally fixed; and when Muriel, on
Bob’s arm, walked up the aisle of the church
at ten o’clock, she looked far more dead than
alive.

Since her illness she could not bear fright
and worry with as much fortitude as she had
done before.

In the porch Clarkson seated herself, re-
solved to give the enemy battle if he should
arrive, and thus delay as long as possible any
intrusion on the wedding~psrty.

But Colonel Faber did not appear. The
ceremony proceeded calmly and undisturbed.

Eleven o’clock, twelve o’clock, one o’clock,
and no signs of Colonel Faber.

Joe Clayton must have been misinformed.

Muriel has changed her white garb for a
dark plum colored traveling dress, and she

' and Philip are about to start together on their
wedding journey.

The carriage is at the door which is to con-
vey them to the station, when a telegraph boy
is seen coming up the drive.

“For Mise Faber.”

Muriel, Miss Faber no longer, snatches it
from his hand, and tears it open.

 

“Lowville station. Accident on the railroad.
Colonel Faber seriously hurt. Come at once."

She gives one wild shriek, which startles all
those who are standing near her; and then she
totters against the door-post, as though she
were going to faint.

But Muriel is one of those women who are
generally equal to an emergency.

By a violent effort she recovers herself.

“ I must go—go to him at once! Bob, you
will accompany me?”

For a moment she forgets everything about
Philip and his new rights.

The father who had loved her, and attended
to her every whim all through her childhood,
was dying, perhaps!

All her own old love for him returned in
full force.

Bob and Philip looked at each other aghast.

They feared what effect this shock might
have on Muriel’s health, shaken as it was by
her recent illness. There was nothing for it,
however, but to go; resistance would only
make her worse.

80 instead of the projected wedding trip,
Muriel, accompanied by her husband and her
brother, with the faithful Clarkson in attend-
ance, started for Lowville.

Philip, it was decided, should make no ap-
pearance before Colonel Faber, but wait in the
background till Muriel had seen him.

It was a dreary journey of at least two
hours. Muriel scarcely spoke, only smiled
faintly when Philip or Bob showed her some
little aflectionate attention.

Arrived at Lowville they were informed
that Colonel Faber was at the Bingham
House, and to the Bingham they accordingly
drove.

“ Was he alive?” was the first question they
asked.

“Yes, he was alive, but in serious danger.”

Muriel insisted on going to him at once; and
before any one could prevent her, she had
accompanied one of the servants of the hotel
into a darkened ground-floor room, in which
Colonel Faber was lying.

His head was bound up; but there were no
wounds on his face which. however, looked
ghastly white, as though he were already
dead.

Muriel threw herself upon her knees beside
his bed, and took his hand; but be neither
moved nor gave any sign of recognition.

“He does not know me,” she cried, in a
piercing voice which reached Bob, who was
standing in the hall, and at once brought him
to her side.

“What was the injury from which Colonel
Faber was suffering?”

“ Fractured skull!” some one had muttered,
while the two men were standing outside; but

 

 

v

24

IN THE BALANCE.

 

from whom they had received the information
neither of them could tell.

Colonel Faber was not dead, but life was
ebbing fast away—a fact that impressed both
Clarkson and Bob as they stood beside the
Weeping Muriel watching him.

“ Can nothing he done to save him?" she
asked, after a while, as she noticed that they
all stood silent and inactive.

Bob shook his head, and there were tears in
his eyes. This man had been hard and cold
and cruel to him; still he was his father, and
there was something very awful in the sudden-
ness of this catastrophe.

“ He will not speak to me again; he will not
tell me he forgives me for my disobedience!
Oh, Bob, Bob l—what shall I do? What shall I
do?” sobbed poor Muriel. ,

Bob raised her from her kneeling posture.

“My darling sister, come with me into an-
other room; this scene is trying you fright-
fully. If I see a chance of one ray of con-
sciousness, I will come for you at once.”

And without more ado he beckoned to Philip,
who was standing by the open door and put
his wife in his arms; and Muriel was laid half-
faintlng, and only half»conscious herself, on a
sofa in an adjoining room.

She rallied, however, after a little while,
and they could not keep her wholly away from
her father.

She would occasionally go and look at him
as he lay there; but the weary hours of the
long day passed on, and no sign of any change
appeared.

“ He will not live till the morning,” the doc-
tor in attendance told Bob.

And he was right.

In the gray, small hours his spirit passed
away so quietly that the passage from life to
death seemed scarcely perceptible.

They were all standing around him when he
died; even Philip Lazenby was there, wonder-
ing, as he stood with his arm around Ella,
whether the dying men would ban: been so pas-
sive if he knew that they were standing there
together man and wife.

It was all over, and for the last time Muriel
was led out of that sad room and put into bed
by faithful Clarkson before she returned to as-
sist Bob in tendering the last offices to him who
was gone.

It was arranged that Muriel and Philip
should go immediately to her old home, and
wait there.

Bob should have the body conveyed to the
city, and the will should be opened.

It was a cheerless coming home, and poor
Muriel felt it keenly; but every one was good
to her.

Mrs. Faber, now she was mistress of her

 

and Philip was quite the devoted Philip of old
days.

Still it was very difficult for Muriel to real-
ize the fact that the father, who had been so
good to her all her young life, had left her
forever—left her, too, in wrath. Useless for
those around her to tell her he had canceled
all his former goodness by his late harsh be-
havior.

Muriel seemed totally to have forgotten that
he had been harsh.

Nor when the will was read would she
even then utter a word against her father, save:
“I have deserved it—richly deserved it!”

Unless she married Mr. Tudor she was only
to receive a hundred a year, to keep her from
starving; everything else was to go to Bob. if
she married Mr. Tudor, then she and her
brother were to reverse positions.

Sorrowful as the events cf the case were,
Bob could not help smiling when he heard the
will. It was so characteristic of his father, he
thought.

Muriel went up to him, and throwing her
arms round him, she said:

“I am very glad, Bob, dear—very glad that
you have the money. You are his son, and
it is yours by right.”

 

CHAPTER IX.
’rwrx'r HUSBAND AND want.

A YEAR has passed away since Colonel
Faber’s death.

Philip Lazenby has not taken his young wife
abroad. The great house of Burlington, Frost
and Company did not think they could place
sufllcient reliance on a man who would leave
his business to be managed as best it could,
and return to America at a. moment’s notice
because he thought his own particular affairs
required his immediate attention.

If it had not been for certain money arrange-
ments which had been made in his behalf, and
which constituted him asort of junior partner,
though on a very small scale, they would prob-
ably have cashiered him altogether; s it was,
they judged in} expedient that he shou d remain
in New York more or less under the eye of the
partners, who would thus be able to direct his
somewhat erratic movements.

Arrangements had been so made that he
was to receive a much larger share of the
profits when in China than he would do at
home. .

0! money then,under existing circumstances,
he had a very modest share, so he took a house
in Brooklyn for which he paid the moderate
rental of five hundred a year, and Bob having
volunteered to furnish it, he and Muriel took
up their abode. And there she is sitting now,
more than a year after her father’s death.

own actions. overwhelmed her with kindness, She still wears a clinging black robe, and the

 

IN THE BALANCE. ‘35

 

bright smile has never come back to her face
nor the joy-notes to her voice.

She is doing some white work, but every
now and tlen it falls into her lap, and her
hands, scarcely less white than her work, lie
inactiver folded over it, while an occasional
tear drops unbidden among the folds.

Presently Clarkson comes iii—faithful Clark-
sonl

She never makes pretty ball-dresses now;
but she is true to her young mistress, and vows
she will never leave her; she and a girl of
eighteen are the only domestics in Muriel's
house.

Clarkson is carrying a tiny white bundle in
her arms, which she puts into Muriel’s lap
among the work, and asks her to mind it for
half an hour while she sees to Mr. Lazenby's
dinner.

It is Muriel’s six weeks’ old baby.

“ My darling—my darling! what have I left
on earth but you?” she murmurs as, Clarkson
having taken her departure, she presses the in-
fant to her heart and kisses it alfectionately
till the baby begins to Wliimper, as though re-
belling against such demonstrative love.

Then she walked about for a little while
soothing her while she still chatted to herself.

“No; I was wrong to say I have nothing
else. There is Bob—good, kind Bobl—viho
would do everything for me if I would only let
him. But he must not know.” And she sat
down again and contemplated her baby, while
the tears this time fell rapidly.

The sound of carriage-wheels stopping at the
door, made her, however, start up and wipe
the tears from her eyes. I

She had scarcely succeeded in removing all
traces of them when the door was thrown
open by Clarkson, and Mrs. Faber was ushered
in.

If she remarked the tear-stains on Muriel’s
face, she said nothing about them; but, throw-
ing her arms around the girl’s neck, she kissed
her affectionately.

Ever since Colonel Faber's death,his brother’s

widow had shown Muriel much more devotion ‘

than she had ever dared display in his like-
time.

“I have come, dear, to ask you to go with
me fora drive,” she said, the first greetings
being over. “0!! course I have not a nice car-
riage tooflier you, as We had when we went
out together in the old days, but in my poor

 

little hired coupe we shall, at all events, get ‘
over some ground, and you will get a change ‘

and a little fresh air.”
Muriel’s first idea was to refuse, but she did
not exactly wish to be ungracious to Aunt

Fanny; added to which, Clarkson had re-,

mained in the room with the baby, after tak-
ing it from its mother, and she knew by a

sort of instinct that the faithful servant would
insist on her accepting this profi'ered drive.

So she made a sort of virtue of necessity,
and acceded without making any ado about
the matter.

“Poor Ellul—poor, poor Ella!” ejaculated
Aunt Fanny, as the door closed on her when
she went up-stairs for her bonnet and outdoor
attire. ~

Clarkson did not answer her in words, but
she heaVed a deep sigh, and hid her face in the
baby’s laces as she bent over it.

“ When is Mr. Bob expected back?” was
Aunt Fanny’s question, somewhat abruptly
put, as though she were a little angry at re-
ceiving no response to her first remark.

“In about a fortnight," was the answer.

“I shall be very glad when he comes," put
in the aunt. “ Perhaps he will be able to
right matters a little.”

“Mr. Bob won’t do no good,” asserted
Clarkson authoritatively. “ Nobody is no good
as ever I saw try to come betwixt husband and
wife.”

“ But surely Mr. Bob will put it before Mr.
Lazenby that he is not doing his duty as 3. mar-
ried man to go about in the way he does, and
leave Ella to pine alone?” '

Clarkson shook her head.

“ If Mr. Bob’s wise, he won’t interfere.
There’s some things as is best not to see. Mr.
Lazenby’s shortcomings is one of them. He
ought never to have married Miss Muriel,
since he can’t reconcile himself to her disfigure-
ment. Mr. Bob can’t bring back her beauty,
so he had best leave the whole matter alone.”

“Her beauty! Good gracious! You don’t
mean that it is because she is disfigured he has
ceased to care for her? I thought Mrs. Wes-
ley__n .

“Hush! For mercy’s sake, don’t mention
that woman’s name in this house! Unhappy
as my young mistress is at her husband’s neg-
lect, Ido not think she has the slightest idea
that any one has come between them.”

Mrs. Faber “looked aghast at the vehemence
with which Clarkson made this statement; but
the almost immediate entrance of Muriel pre- «
Vented her from asking for a further explana—
tion, as she would have liked to do.

Another five minutes, and the ladies were
whirling along the road toward the Park in
the hired conveyance, which was so unlike
Colonel Fuher’s well-appointed carriage. that
they neither of them could forego a compari-
son as they sat, side by side, looking out of
their respective windows in a silence which
showed such great intimacy tobe positively
unsociable.

After awhile, however, they laid their re-
flections on one side, and began to talk, very
carefully at first,” though they were both

 

 

56 IN THE BALANCE.

 

afraid of entering on subjects which either
wished to avoid; then, gradually, the ice
seemed to give way, and, finally, a thaw set in
so rapidly that by the time they reached Pros-
pect Park Muriel and Aunt Fanny were chat-
ting away about a hundred little nothings with
all the volubility of old days.

It was as though for a time Muriel had to-
tally forgotten the fact that she was an or-
phan, a. wife and a mother.

All on a sudden, however, she stopped in the
middle of a. gay sentence, and seizing Mrs.
Faber by the wrist, she held her with so tight
a grip that the poor little woman would have
cried aloud with pain if she had not been so
startled by the action and its accompaniment
—a half-stifled scream—that she had no power
left save to look out of the carriage window in
the same direction toward which Muriel‘s
riveted game was turned.

Philip Lazenby and Mrs. Wesley in a vic
torial v

It was alovely spring-like afternoon in May;
the sun was in the eyes of the pair in the vic-
toria; besides, they were sitting nnd laughing
together as though all-engrossed in each other’s
society.

Philip did not see his wife, and Mrs. Wesley
would not have known her if she had seen llfll',‘
but Muriel would never forget her face
again.

“She is beautiful—very, very beautiful!”
she murmured, as, the victoria having passed,
she relaxed her clutch of Aunt Fanny’s wrist,
and lying back in the corner of the carriage,
closed her eyes, as though longing to shut out
the recollection of that vision which had sud-
denly swept by her.

But, close them as she might, it would be
ever, ever there; her husband, her Philip, side
by side with that fair, laughing woman, who
seemed utterly careless of the torture her ap-
propriation of Philip might bring to another
heart.

Ay, was she careless, and, to a. great extent,
blamelesst so, since she knew nothing of
Philip’s marriage.

Mrs. Wesley was a thoughtless, admiration-
loving young widow, round whom the golden
youth loved to flock; the first favorite, at this
moment, being Philip Lazenby.

She had been left very well off by the late
George Wesley, who had been an extensive
ship-owner and builder, and she did not intend
again to put her head into the matrimonial
noose—so she told her intimates; hence she
never troubled herself to inquire into the ante
cedents or family surroundings of the men
with whom, for the time being, she amused
herself by flirting.

Philip Lazenby’s card had his club engraved
on it by way of address; and Mrs. Wesley had

 

not the slightest idea that he had a young wife
and little daughter in a modest house in the
up er part of the city.

Vhen she should discover it, if ever she did,
perhaps even gay Julia Wesley’s opinion of
Philip Lazeuby might change.

Meantime, he reconciles the homage he is
laying at the widow’s shrine to his conscience
with the explanation that, to a man of his
artistic temperament, beauty is as essential as
his daily bread, and that he is in no wise injur-
ing Muriel by this devotion he is lavishing on
another.

If he could have seen her face as she passed
him in Aunt Fanny’s hired carriage he might,
perhaps, have changed his opinion.

But when, their several drives being over,
they met at dinner in the humble home, Muriel
had tutored herself into her usual state I of
quiescent endurance, and by no sign did she
show that she had learnt anything that day
which could, in the future, have any influence
over her life.

Not even when the repast had been got rap-
idly over by Philip, and he pushed his chair
back from the table, saying he had an import-
ant business engagement which would necessi-
tate his going out at once, did Muriel lose her
placidity, though the image of the siren with
the yellow hair crossed her mental vision, and
she had no belief, as she had once had, in Phil-
ip’s business engagements.

It was just eight o'clock when he left her;
having only bestowed half an hour on the din-
ner so carefully prepared by Clarkson.

The play to which he was to escort Mrs.
Wesley began at a quarter to nine, and he had
to get back into the city to put» an evening
clothes at the club—a practice which he fre-
quently followsd, in order to lead his wife, if
possible, into believing firmly in his statements
as to business appointments.

But Muriel, who had only suspected him up
up till to-day, and grieved over his seeming
coldness and neglect of herself, had received
full evidence, and would be blind no longer.
The hoping almost against hope, as she had
done of late, was past; henceforth, whatever
Philip did, she would always imagine there
was a goldenvhaired, laughing widow actuating
him.

But Muriel was a wise woman; she deter-
mined that whatever befell, she would keep an
invuluerable silence, and appear to know noth-
ing, unless circumstances brought facts so pal-
pably before her eyes that she could not help
herself.

So the days passed on.

Philip was civil to her when they met,
which was but seldom, and that was all; there
were no affectionate caresses, no petits soins.

Still Muriel endured patiently: and no one.

‘5

 

INTEEBALANCE

"3]

 

unless it was Clarkson, who knew her so well,
could guess any portion of the torture she was
enduring.

At last came a telegram from Bob.

His ship had arrived.

As soon as he could get leave, which would
be in about two days, he would be with her.

,Would she send for Bee Danvers, so that he
might have both his dear ones together, and
not be compelled to tear himself from either of
them?

It was his intention, Muriel knew, when he
returned from this voyage, to give up the
navy, and settle down with his beloved Bee on
the comfortable income which had been left
him by his father.

All this would have been a delight and joy
to Muriel but for her own secret misery, which
she was more anxious to hide from Bob than
from any one; and, fearful lest the Danverses
might find it out, and tell him, she had not
been to Runway for weeks, pleading delicacy
of health as her excuse—a plea. which they
were the more ready to accept, since, when
any of the family went to Brooklyn, Muriel
always looked so ill and weary, that they were
all firmly under the impression that she was
gradually fading out of existence.

That Philip was not more anxious about her,
perhaps, surprised them, but no one guessed
the truth; and Joe Clayton, Who knew some-
thing of Philip’s sentiments, guarded the
knowledge carefully, not even telling his wife
——-for Joe had been married about three
months before Bob’s expected return.

Clayton, however, engrossed by his business,
was totally ignorant of the existence of a Mrs.
Wesley, or he would, in all probability, have
risked a quarrel with Philip. and have under-
taken the handling of the matter somewhat
roughly: for honest Joe Clayton was scarcely
a man to stand quietly by and witness such an
utter wrong as Philip, in his weakness andhis
thoughtlessness, was perpetrating.

This, then, was the state of affairs when
Bo‘o dashed unannounced into his sister’s house
full twelve hours before the telegram had led
her to expect him.

Bee, of course, had not arrived, but she had
been sent for—would be there to luncheon.

It was only ten in the morning when Bob
put in an appearance.

Philip had left the house about five minutes
previously for the office.

The home arrangements all looked natural
and comfortable, Bob thought. The wee mite
in the cradle was a hit of perfection, he sup-
posed; only his beloved sister’s appearance did
not altogether please him.

She seemed delicate and depressed; yet
Muriel was in better form that morning than
she had been for weeks. Her spirits had .risen

 

at the sight of Bob, and there was bright color
on her cheeks.

“Two o’clock, you ay, Bee will be here,”
Bob said at last, the first greetings and ques-
tions and answers being over. “Then after
you have given me some breakfast, suppose we
gomout! I have one or two commissions t9 do,
both for myself and a brother 0fllcer.‘ You
can help me in them, so, if you are agreeable,
we’ll charter a hack and be oflf.”

Muriel was always ready to do what Bob
wished, and without even asking where they
were going, she got into the hack that very
shortly afterward came up to the door.

Shop after shop he drove to, ordering a
variety of things, both for himself and for
presents, with a recklessness most men display
when they return home from a long foreign
absence.

“ Now for Captain Carton’s commission,” he
said, producing a. tiny packet from his coat-
pocket. “ He has asked me to take this souve-
nir myself, and make the acquaintance of his
sister. We shall just have time to go over there
and be back in time for Bee.”

They crassed the ferry, and drove to a house
on Fifth avanue, and Muriel remained in the
carriage while Bob went in with the parcel.

She did not pay much attention as to who or
what Bob’s friends were, the subject not inter-
esting her especially. She was dreaming of
Philip, wondering what would happen when
Bob discovered how matters stood between
them.

“Come in, Ella; old Mrs. Carton is here, as
well as the sister, and they would both like so
very much to make your acquaintance,” and
Bob, suiting action to his words, opened the
cab door for Ella to get out.

She obeyed, almost mechanically, and fol-
lowed him into the well-appointed house.

“ My sister, Mrs. Philip Lazenby—Mrs.
Wesley i”

As the two ladies looked at each other, it
would have been difficult to say on which coun-
tenance was depicted the greater amount of
horror~stricken astonishment! ‘

CHAPTER X. .
IN THE OLD HOUSE.

“Nor only must Philip Lanenby be given to
understand that his attentions are a gross in-
ault to me, but he must be brought back to his
wife’s allegiancel"

And Mrs. Weslhy walked rapidly up and
down the room as she talked excitedly to her
mother, about half an hour after Bob and
Muriel had taken their departure.

“Easier said than done,” observed the elder
lady, whose belief in humanity generally, and
conversion particularly, was of the smallest.
“ You may close your doors against this man,

 

 

   

 

‘28

IN THE BALANCE.

     

 

as, of course, you will if you have any pluck,
but I don’t see how you are to make him go
back to his wife.”

“I will, though; at all events, I’ll have to
try at it! Poor little thing, her brother told
me she was very beautiiul before she had the
small-pox.” ‘

The mother’s only answer was a grunt.

And Mrs. Wesley, taking no notice of it, fell
to musing. She was concocting a plot in her
little not over-clever noddle, and she found the
machinery of it no easy matter.

“I won’t cut him altogether. I’ll talkto
him, reason w1th him,” she mattered, half to
herself. “ Surely if 1 have as much influence
over him as he is always telling me I have, I
can use it for good quite as well as for evil.”

“Nonsense, Julia!” exclaimed the mother.
“You are deceiving yourself! I’ll have no
more of this man’s philandering here! You’ll
just have the goodness to shut the door in his
face! Your flirting propensities with single
men are bad enough, but when it comes to
married ones it is time it was stoppedl”

“ Mother, you’ll make me very angry if you
attempt to interfere with me! Have I not al-
ready told you I intend to bring about a thor-
ough reconciliation and understanding between
these two people?"

Lt Bah I”

The length of the “ Bah!” and the argu-
ment generally was, however, at this moment
cut short by a very loud ring at the door-bell
—such a ring as neither visitors nor servants
are in the habit of giving.

Both the ladies rushed simultaneously to the
window.

A horse had run away, and bringing the
vehicle behind it in collision with a lamp-post,
just outside Mrs. Wesley’s door, the horse, con-
veyance, and occupants seemed to be lying in
one mass on the pavement.

The door-bell had probably been rung by
some oflicious member of the crowd, who
thought that assistance must, sooner or later,
be required.

Just as Mrs. Wesley looked out of the win-
dow, and uttered a little scream, the driver
managed to disentangle himself from the
debris.

He shook himself to make sure that none of
his bones were broken, and then joined in the
efforts one or two bystanders weie making to
separate the horse from the back.

They cut the traces and dther portions of the
harness. Up went the shafts, and revealed to
the view of the now amused watchers Philip
Lazenby in such a position that, though he
seemed to be lying back in a thoroughly com-
fortable and safe attitude, yet he was power-
less to help himself, and was compelled to re-

 

     

main in that most ludicrous position till he
was literally pulled out of the vehicle by two
of the laughing crowd. Before the very house,
too, in which Mrs. Wesley lived! It was a
hard decree of fate, indeed it was!

He little guessed how much harder was the
ordeal fate had yet in store for him.

He was not hurt, as Mrs. Wesley for a mo-
ment had feared; then she need have no
mercy.

In amoment her mind was made up as to
what she would do.

She went down the stairs just in time to
meet Mr. Lazenby in the hall as he came in.

- “Call up another carriage for Mr. Lazcnhy
at once,” she said to the butler.

Having thus got rid of this listening func-
tionary, she turned to Philip.

“You had better drive strright to Brook-
lyn,” she went on. “If Mrs. Ltizenby hears
of your accident she may be alarmed. Besides,
she is a better nurse than I am, and you may
not have escaped as soot-free as you imagine!
Dear, dear, it was funny to see you in that cab!
—more ridiculous than anything I ever wit-
nessed before! Good-by i”

And without waiting for any answer from
him, she ran up the stairs, leaving him mutter-
ing to himself:

“ Wife? Brooklyn? Then she knows all
about it! But the ridicule? Ah, ridicule al-
ways kills love!”

He did not attempt to follow her, but meekly
getting into the cab that had been called for
him he drove off; though whether he went to
Brooklyn or not, Mrs. Wesley had not the
gratification of knowing.

Two or three days paszed, and nothing was
heard of him. Mrs. Wesley had begun to
think she had repressed him altogether; and if
she was to bring about a reconciliation with
his wife, this was not exactly what she desired.

She was thinking of writing a note, and ask-
ing Bob Faber to dinner, when that distin-
guished young officer put in a somewhat uuex-
pected appearance.

On the day he called on Mrs. Wesley with
his sister, Bob had gathered quite enough from
the behavior of the two women to be quite
aware that they had some unpleasant knowl-
edge of each other; and also that the individual
who had in some way occasioned this feeling
was Philip.

It was in vain, however, that he cross-ques-
tioned his sister during their drive home.

She would not utter a word againt her hus-
band; and Bee, who was waiting for them
when they arrived, could not help him.

She had suspected all was not right with Mr.
and Mrs. Lazenby; but she did not actually
know as much as Bob did himself.

IN THE BALANCE.

29

 

It was left him, then, to ferret out particulars
as best he could, and this he proceeded to do
by keeping a very keen watch on Lazenby and
his actions.

What he discovered can, perhaps, best be
told by giving some account of his interview
with Mrs. Wesley.

“ Lazenhy is very ill,” was his abrupt an-
nouncement as soon as he had shaken hands;
and he looked keenly into the lady’s face to
see what effect these words would have on
her.

“I am sorry.” she answered, very coolly.
“And your sister, Mrs. Lazenby—how is
she!"

“In utter despair and fear lest he should die.
Will you come to them?”

" I, Mr. Faber? Why should I come?"

“ Because in the sick man’s ravings he asks
for you ceaselessly, and the doctors seem to
so y that his only chance of life is in your pres-
ence.”

Mrs. Wesley thought for a second or so, then
she said, briskly, “I will get my bonnet at
once, and accompany you."

As they drove along, she inquired into the
meaning of her being sent for in this summary
fflsthD, and asked the nature of Philip Lazen-
by’s illness.

It seemed that he had been more shaken by
the accident than had at first been supposed,
and, added tohis shaking, there was a large
share of annoyance at the ridicule attending
the episode, the two combined bringing on so
severe a cerebral attack that his life was in
danger.

Arrived at the Brooklyn home, Mrs. Wesley
found Muriel somewhat impatiently waiting
for her, and from the hightened color in her
cheeks there was evidently considerable fever
mixed with her impatience. She did not love
Mrs. Wesley any the better because she had
judged it expedient to send for her now.

,Tho first sentence however, that the little
woman uttered had the effect of reassuring
Muriel. '

“Let us be true to each other,” she said, .

holding out her hand to her. “If  am here
to try and save your husband, it is in a great
measure because I am anxious to save you
from unhappiness.” _

And so, the way being led by Muriel herself,
she went into Philip’s sick-room, where Clark-
son, who was in attendance, received her With
something like an angry scowl.

She was, perhaps, the most difficult to con-
vince of them all; yet ere long even she was
mollifled by the tone which Mrs. Wesley took,
and it was evident to Clarkson that this stran-
ger had not come to bring storm, but peace,
into the household.

Philip knew Mrs. Wesley at once, though he
had not seemed to recognize any of those who
had been about him hitherto; but, though he
had called for her in his ravings, he turned
from her with a sort of, shudder when she did
appear.

It was as though loyalty was seeking to
conquer faithlessncss in his distorted mind.

As the power of memory and the knowledge
of past events came slowly back to his brain,
he could not comprehend why Mrs. Wesley
was so frequently standing there by Ella’s
side.

“She was a friend of Mr. Bob’s,” Clarkson
told him; but that did not enlighten him.

“ Why was Bob’s friend there?”

The mystery was explained to him one after-
noon, when well enough to have his chair
wheeled into an adjoining room.

Muriel, by arrangement, left him alone for
half an hour with Mrs. Wesley, in whom she
had learnt to have the greatest confidence.

What passed during that interview no one
knew; but Mrs. Wesley left the house soon
afterward, and the following day started with
her mother on a foreign tour.

Philip, meanwhile, was very silent; but as
he struggled back to health it was evident to
those about him that he was a chastened, as
well as an honester and graver man.

 

Six years have assed since these evants
,happened. One 0 the elder partners of the
2 house of Burlington, Frost & Company has
‘ gone to his rest, and Philip has taken his
lace.
‘, The little house in Brooklyn has long since
, been given up and replaced by the much more
commodious one in New York, which became
‘ Bob’s at Colonel Faber’s death, and was now
rented by Philip.
‘ There are many lights in its windows now,
‘I and much running to and fro may be observed,
Clerkson, among all the servants, being the
unost active. She is here, there, and every—
where, looking after everybody.

It is evident that it is the occasion of a great
festival, for Muriel, in a dress of pale amber
satin, trimmed with soft lace, as Clarkson only
can trim, comes down the staircase, and walks,
1 an approving expression on her tace,,through
l the rooms.

A ball is about to take place in honor. of Mrs.
. Wesley’s marriage with a distinguished foreign
y diplomat.

Muriel, as she stands there waiting for the
guests to arrive, though no longer the beauti-
ful girl who turned men’s heads and made their
hearts flutter in that same old house nearly ten
- years ago, is, nevertheless, a very pleasing-
, looking little matron. »

 

 

 

 

30 IN THE BALANCE

 

Happiness has set its beautifying imprint; on
her brow, and time has considerably worn out
the marks left by the dreadful illness.

As she pauses before the mantle-piece to give
a few last touches to the lOVely flowers which
are arranged there in beds of moss. Philip
comes in, and going up to his wife, puts his
arm round her. '

“My darling, you cannot form any idea
how thoroughly happy I am to-nightl"

“Yes, dearest Philip, I know full well; for
your happiness or misery always finds a true
echo in my own heart.”

The first guests that arrive are the Claytons;
and honest J oe’s whole countenance beams
with delight as they unexpectedly witness
this entente cordiale between husband and
wife, for he feels sure now that Philip no
longer regrets the marriage into which he felt
at one time honor alone had driven him.

Bob and Bee, now married and settled a few,
streets oil, speedily follow the Claytons, to be
succeeded in their turn by Mrs. Faber, looking
much plumper and rosier than she did six
years ago, for she is now living in a perfec:
monotony of content.

01 course Madame ,la Baronne de Torres
Vedras, as Mrs. Wesley is now called, is re
ceived with due honor and much empressement,
and the whole party seems likely to prove a
very festive one, especially as the dancing ar-
rangements have been placed in the hands of
Frank Danvers, the onfi unmarried man
among the intimates.

For some days past he has been very busy
collecting the necessary presents for a German,
which he is to lead with a very pretty MLS
Fuller, a niece of the baroness, and, as Joe
Clayton observes, “There is no knowing what
may be the result of the ball in the Lazeuby
mansion.”

run END.
DIME HAND-BOOKS.

Young People’s Series.

Burma’s Dun: HAND-BOOKS non Your"; Psorm
cover a wide range of subjects, and are especially
adapted to their end.

 

Ladles’ letter-Writer. Book of Games.

Gents’ Letter-Writer. Fortune-Teller.

Book of Etiquette. Lovers’ Casket.

Book of Verses. Ball-room Companion.

Book of Dreams. Book of Beauty.
Hand-Books of Games.

Handbook of Summer Sports.

Book of Croquet. Yachting and Rowing.

Chess Instructor. Riding and Driving.

Cricket and Football Book of Pedestrianism.

Guide to Swimmin

Handbook of @inter Sports—Skating, etc.

For saleb all newsdealer or sent ost-
rece‘ ipt of p ce—ten cents. 5' ’ p paid. on
BEADLE AND ADAMS. Frames:
98 William Street. Nev??th

 

BBADLE AND ADAMS’

STANDARD DIME PUBLICATIONS

Speakers.

Each volume contains 100 large pages. printed
from clear, open type, comprising the best collec-
tion of Dialogues. Dramas and Recitations.

The Dime Speakers embrace twenty-tour volumes.

 

viz

1. American Speaker. 15. Komikal Speaker.

2. National Speaker. 16. Yontli’s S caker.

3. Patriotic Speaker. 17. E10 uent weaker.

.. Comic Speaker. 18. Hui Colum ia Speak-

4

6. Elocutionist. er.

6. Humorous Speaker. 19. Serio-Comic Speaker.

7. Standard Speaker. 20. Select Speaker.

8. Stump Speaker. 21. Funny Speaker.

9. Juvenile Speaker. 2:2. Jolly Speaker.

10. Spread-Eagle Speaker 23. Dialect Speaker.

11. Dime Debater. 24. Recitations and Read

12. Exhibition S eaker.

13. School Spea 'er.

14. Ludjcrous Speaker.
These books are replete with choice pieces for the

School‘room. the Exhibition. for Homes. etc. 75 to

100 Declamations and Recitations in each book.

 

lugs.
25. Burlesque Speaker.

Dialogues.

The Dime Dialogues. each volume 100 pages. em
brace thirty-two books. viz.:

Dialogues No. One. Dialogues No. Eighteen.
Dialogues No. Two. Dialogues No. Nineteen.
Dialogues No. Three. Dialogues No. Twenty.
Dialogues No. Four. Dialogues No. Twenty-one.
Dialogues No. Five. Dialogues No. Twenty-two.
Dialogues No. Six. Dialogues No. Twenty-three.
Dialogues No. Seven. Dialogues No. Twenty-four.
Dialogues No. Eight. Dialogues No. Twenty-five.
Dialogues No. Nine. Dialogues No. Twenty-six.
Dialogues N 0. Ten. DialoguesNo.Twenty-seven.

Dialogues No. Eleven. Dialogues No. Twenty-eight.
Dialogues No. Twelve. Dialogues No. Twenty-nine
Dialogues No. Thirteen. Dialogues No. Thirty.
Dialogues No. Fourteen. Dialogues No. Thirty-one.
Dialogues No. Fifteen. Dialogues No. Thirty-two.
Dialogues No. Sixteen. Dialogues N o. Thirty-three.
Dialogues No.Seventeen

15 to 25 Dialogues and Dramas in each book.

 

Dramas and Readings.
164 12ml) Pages. 20 Cents.

For Schools, Parlors. Entertainments and the Am-
ateur Stage, comprising Original Minor Dramas.
Comedy, Farce. Dress Pieces. Humorous Dialogue
and Burlesque, by noted writers; and Recitations
and Readings, new and standard. of the greatest
celebrity and interest. Edited by Prof. A. ill. Russell.

Lives of Great Americans.

L—George Washington. VIII.—lsraei Putnam.

II.--John Paul Jones. X.—Tecumseh.
TIL—MadAnthonyWayne XL-Abraham Lincoln.
W.—Ethan Allen. ontiac.
V.—Marquis de Lafayette X111.— lysses S. Grant.

WThe above books are sold by newsdealerl
everywhere, or will be sent. post-paid, to any ad-

dress. ou receipt of price. ten cents each. Bun“
m ADAIS, Publishers, 98 William st.. N. Y

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

 

.
I’m

 

 

ski?!"

i
{ “(sex \POPULAR
l

? DIME HAND-BOOKS.

BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK.

Each comma 100 12mo pages, sent post-paid on receipt of price—ten cent: each.

GAME AND PASTIME SERIES.

HAND-BOOK OF SUMMER SPORTS—Comprising Walking, Running, Jump-
1ng, Hare and Hounds, Bicycling, Archery, etc. With Complete American
and English Athletic Rules.

HAND-303K 0F WINTER SPORTS. Embracin Skating, (on the ice and on
rollers,) Rink-Ball, Curling, Ice-Boating and Foo ball.

HAND-BOOK OF PEDESTRIANISM—Giving the Rules for Training and'Prac~
tice mi Walking, Running, Leaping, Vaulting, etc.

CRICKET AND FOOT-BALL—A desirable Companion, containin complete
instructions in th. clements of Bowling, Batting and Fielding; a so the Re- .
vised Laws of the Game: Remarks on t is Duties of Umpires; the Mary-le-Bone
Cricket Club Rules and Regulations; Bets, etc.

i
i
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a
S
l
g
>
E
i
i
'r DIME BOOK OF CROQUET—A complete ide to the game, with the latest
g rules, diagrams, Croquet Dictionary, Par or Croquet, etc.
i DIME GUIDE TO SWIMMING—Embmdng all the rules of the art for both
sexes.
YACHTING AND ROWING—This volume will be found very complete as a
' guide to the conduct of watercraft, and full of interesting information alike to
§ the amateur and the novice.
\ RIDING AND DRIVING—A sure guide to correct Horsemanship, with com-
plete directions for the road and old; and a. specific section of directions and
3 information for female equestrians.
BOOK OF 100 GAMES—Outdoor and Indoor SUMMER GAMES, for Tourists
and Families in the Country, Picnics, etc., comprising 100 Games, Forfeits, etc.
DIME CHESS INSTRUCTOR——A complete hand-book of instruction, giving
g the entertaining mysteries of this most interesting and fascinating of games.
i
i
g
S
l
i
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\
\
\
x
E
E
i
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\

YOUNG PEOPLE’S SERIES.

1—DIM'E GENTS’ LETTER-WRITER—Embracing Forms, Models, Suggestions
and Rules for the use of all classes, on all occasions.

2—DI '8 BOOK OF ETIQUETTE—For Ladies and Gentlemen: being a Guide to
True Gentility and Good-Breeding. and a Directory to the Usages of society.

3—DIME BOOK OF VERSES—Comprisin Verses for Valentines, Mottoes, Coup-
lots, St, Valentine Verses, Bridal and arrlage Verses, Verses of Love, etc.

4-DIME BOOK OF DREAMS—Their Romance and Myster ; with a complete «

intnr )reting Dictionary. Compiled from the west accre ited sources.

5—DIME F ORTUNE-TEL LEE—Comprising the art of Fortune-Telling, how to
read Character, etc.

6—DI ‘riIE LADIES’ LETTER-WRITER—Giving the various forms of Letters of
School Days Love and Friendship, of Societv, etC. I

7—DIME LOVERS’ CASKET—A Treatise and Guide to Friendship, Love, Court—
shi and Martin e. Embracinfialso a complete Floral Dictionary,_etc. ‘

8—DI E BALL-R 0M COMPA ION—And Guide to Dancing. Givmg rules i
of Eli uette hints on Private Parties, toilettes for the Ball-room, etc. ,

12—DIM BOOK OF BEAUTY—A delightful book, full of interesting lufprma- i
tion. It deserves a place in the hands of every one who would be beautiful.

 

FAMILY SERIES.

1. DIME COOK BOOK. 4. DIME FAMILY PHYSICIAN.
2. DIME RECIPE BOOK 5. DIME DRESSMAKING AND MIL- I

.3. DIME HOUSEWIF v‘s' MANUAL. LINLRY
m. The above books are sold by Newsdealers everywhere. or will be sent,
‘VLT_VI_VLY.AV.T..YC“V.VZ_VT_.Y Y V V V Y Y Y V V IV Y AVrY V Y Y‘

 

 

 

   

post-paid, to any address, on receipt of price, 10 cents each. BEADLE & ADAMS,
Publishers, 98 William street, New York.

 
 
   

AAAAAAAA

 

 

 

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PUBLISHED EVERY T UESDA Y. /

 

 

--/ Waverley Library.
\/

THIRTY-TWO OCTA V0 PAGES. ’

1 A Bride of’n Day. By Mnry Reed Crown”.
2. The Girl \Vll‘e. llanrlley ’1‘. Cnmpbcll.
3 “'n! It Love? or, Collrglmls mul b'wuullienrla. By
Wm. Mum: 'l'nrnur, )l. l).
4 Murrlcd ln “unto. By Rn“ “'ilnvonil.
5 “'III She Slurry [in]? nr,’l‘hu Mnuked Bride,
Hy .\lr~. Min-y I’m-d (:mwu.
\\~ “1-; or, .\l_\'ru,1.llc Child 01 Adop-
Aun. Stephen .
Ih- ilxu'tlr "when.
.l.. g A. lieulsnn.
9 A Dun rhtor of live, 0 , lllilnlnl by Love. By
Mu. \ .‘||’V “Null Urnwrll.
10 The, liroh I Belrolyhulz or, Low versus Hutu.
By llziry (Il'lll'n- llulpinu.
11 The llrlde of un Actor; ur, l‘rlwu from Home.
lh‘ ll)» Author of“ Alone in [In- “Mill,” etc.
A Pnlr ot‘Grny Eyes. 15y ltnsu Korihwl
“’lthonl u llourl. 15y (Tul. I’m-nu... llI_'ri|l|:i|||.
Alone In the “'ul'ld; n In: \‘unn; )lnn‘x Wnrd.
15y lllr Author of“ The n.- .- ni'un Arm," rll'., etc.
Motherlcnn. By Col. 1’~, Ir urn
u The Sen-ct Mnrriuu‘e. B) Surnk .n'mn.
Sldt‘r ugul . HI-tor; ory 'l'hu llivrilry of Hear“.
My .\lr~. Mi Reml Crow. .
“curt to II urt. By I .lln <ol|lllwnrllh
Sold for Gold. By Mn. N. V'. Vlclir.
Elllllllllfllcd: Mr, A Dungurons Hanna. Hy llonriclln
‘ nn-nurny.
21 Sybll Ch :0; or, The Gambler’s Wil'e. By Mrs.
Ann  Swnnrns.
'l‘rn-t "l‘l' . By Murmur“! Leicester.
Slunell Au‘n lly . I Augusta
A Loyul Lou . 11yAnon-Hawmhwnrth.
The l‘onnlry Com-In. liv l ‘lirllllmly.
Ills Idol. By Mrs. .\lnrv Rue-l 1‘11 null.
Fllrtutlon; or. A Y-vullt; Girl 5 Uuml Name. By
Join-l) Almrhunell (Rulph Rum).
Now nnd Forever. {y I ~' Lin ’l‘lnn-lrerny.
Orphun Nell. Lln- ()I’migu Girl; or, we Lum. Heir.
lly Agih- l’vnnv.
30 Charlotte Temple. Bv Mrs. Rnwsnn.
31 The Links |IA‘IPQI!. ll)’ ,\l Mary A. Dvniann.
82 Leno Year: ur.Wny She l’ropus l'. llySurllCluxlnn,
315 In Spite of Ilernell'; or, Jrnnetie‘s qunratiou.
ny s. u. Si..=rw.wi.
81. Her FueeWnn ller Fortune. Bv Fl munr Maine.
35 The Cnhnn lleirenu. By M '
36 0nly u choolminrmn. B. Am -ullluorLll.
37 The \V ('d :“0!!0llfl0r§ nr. RI um: All Ior a
llexll‘t. liy .\lr<. Mnry Rcl‘ll From-ll.
38 “I'll! film u (Young-He. My llvurii-lm 'lhiu'kcrny.
3!) 0m: “'onmn’n "curt. ll; umrgu S. K lure.
40 Love-Mud; orY llcirulln-ul, Married, hivnru-Il and—
ISy Wm. Mum" ’l'urner, M. I).
41 For Her Deur Sake. My <m-n (‘qulnm
42 The Bouquet (Eli-l. My Auilv l’enllr.
4K Murlnlumln- l’rinm lhmnu. ll_\' Arnlwlln Sunlllworlh.
44 TI Ehon Mil-k. My Mru. Mnry llmnl Cruwell.
45'» Ll y'l rule. lluuuhlvroH‘l rlulle.
46 The 'l iree Sl-Iern. llv (\lll'u l-luniing.
47 The Creole Mum-M. My Mrs. Anna 1-1.1’nrwr.
474 A Mnrrluge ol‘t‘onvenlel . 15y Sum Clnxtun.
49 'I he \Vil‘e'n Secret. lly Col. .1 mm lmwis.
50 Slr Ari-her‘n Brlllc. Hy Amhellu Snuthworlh.
fil Led Anlrny . By Ouinvc Fl'lllllvlv.
52 llumelenn; nr,Tonr1rlnm Girls in New York. By
Allmrl W. Ailu-n.
58 The Mnnlmr Brlde. Bv Mnrznrct Hlnnnt.
5-! l'ledg‘ed to Murry. 15v Sara (Tlnxton.
55 Ocell’n Deeelt. llv . lrs. Jannie Davis Burton.
56 Bentrlt-e, the Ilcnutll'ul; ur, His Second, Love.
By Arabella Snulliwnrlli.

5'? \Vlthout Men-y . liy linl’llvy T. Campbell.

 

The Bnronct’n Secret. By Sam Clnxtnn.
Ag! en Hope, the Aotrem; or, lllu Ronlunce of n
ILu iy King. llv \\'iu. Mason Turner, M. l).
A “ ldow'fl “'llen. 11y Rachel lsl‘rlllllll‘lllo
lild llc Love "or? By lSn llr_\ 'l‘. Cumplrll.
Alumni In. Ills Power. ll_\' Lillinn lmvn-Jnv.
Mic llild )ot Love llhn. By Ai'ulielln Scull)-
u‘orl l.
Bennie Ru) nor. the “'ork Girl.
Mn..." Tum-r, )1. D.
" A Hrnve Glrl ByAllce Fleming.
Lord Roth‘s h II. By Georginnn Diukens..
A \\ ivk >I Lh-nrl. lly Sum Clinton.
Illln 1! PM MIMI-(mu. liy Arnln-lluSoullnvonl).
lhe "lan lhmghler. llvAlii-e Flt-Inluu.
\\ hy I I“ urrlcd lllln? llySnm Cluxlnn.
Honor Bound. By Lillinn Loveioy.
.\ )Illll’ri SI“. lly llvll. \\'in\wmi .
Ill‘ 0w" Agnln. lly ArnhcllnSuulhwnrll).
Adrlu, the Adopted. 11y Jrnnh- Din-is inn-ion.
. Brother”! Mn. liy llnvliel llernluirdt.
“Bonnie She Loved llhn By Alice Flaming
.\ Mrunmo Mnrrlnge. .\ Lllnm Low-1"
Forflw‘YoI-vnn lle [AH ed. llyAmmsM llvlloll.
Forbidden Bum. MyArnhullnSnullm uh
Two Young Girls By Al‘ e Planning.
A Point ol‘ Honor. By l'llmn Lovejny.
A “'omun‘n “'llohery. ‘A S: n (‘lnxlm.
A Sent lulu]: Ol'llenl. Ily Mrs. 1 nruixuni llici an.
’ llernell‘. llv Arnlu-lln Soulliw. uh.

lly Wm.

I’lfifill'r-nM-3'v‘

"aqqnqnufina _

11
(vi-3‘:

3E3?

y Lillinn Luvegloy.
‘. urn Clnxtou.

' (.‘iiorginnn Dickmm
Ilnnnh-d lh nrln. . l‘mrnlumn.
“II3lllg‘ u lloult. By Lillian Lovrjoy.

Ileflpcrnlc “lune. lly Arnlwllu Soutlnvorth,

l'nder u ('loud. liy Snm('lnxlou.
The Cost ot'n Folly. ll_\~ Him-mini“ Dickens.
“1- Love: Me Not. lly Lllllun L1H'vJo)’.

” “'hnl She (‘onl Illm. [5y Arnhelln nnihwnrlli.
A Hitler .“htnke. ByAunes Mary Sin-Ina).
Furled by Trenchery. By Hun-M Irving.

95 Tom fled Through Love. lly Lillmn Ln‘W-luy,
99 The lund of Fute. By Arnllelln Sullthworlll.
100 “or (Euurdlnn‘n Nuerlfli-e. v “urn Clnxton.
101 Put to n Tent. By (lynrginno Dli-ke s.
102 A Sluter’n (‘rlnu-. llv Agnvs .\l hellnn.
103 In Low n Mot-kcry? llyAmimllu outliwnrlli.
I04 .\ “'llll'ul “'lI‘e. By L' ' 4
105 The Iicnutll'nl Demon.
Davenport.
106 A You“):

By Frunlms llulen

den]. By Sum Claxlon.
l0? “or FA‘ll ( By llurrlet Irving.
108 A l’erll no. ByGenruinnu Diclinnu.
109 l’nhnlon n Repl'lnnl. lv Lillian Lav-joy.
“0 A Ilunty Murrluze. ll)‘ )lra. M. L. l-‘ordlmm.
111 Cherry: or, A Dnuglileruftlie Soul-ll. By Aruhelln
Snunmnrlh.
112 An Idol ol' (llnv. Ry llnrrM lrving.
113 .\ 'l‘lholrny )I'n! I. By Sam (‘lnxlom
.1 v . u‘v w.
114 I he Bnlunee. By Arnbellu Soulliworlh.
llvmlv .llll\ ‘1’}.
115 In Ill! l’ou' -r. By Mrs. M. L. Fordlmm.
llemly Aumht 3.
116 Alumni. “’on- By Hurriel. Irving.
lll'nlly August! 10.
11'? A Lll'e'n h‘ecret. By ArnbellnSouthworth.
Randy Angull 17.
The “'uvcrley Llhrnry in for sale by all new:-
rlnmlurs. tin! can“ per copy, or sent by mall on receipt of
six cums cnch.

(Beadle and Adcuns, .PubZishens',
No. 98 William street. New York.

’WN/Nm

V, ,7. A, . V” ,, a ,,,,,//,,/A-,,,, .A. - . .‘

 

 

 

 

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