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82.50 a year. Entered at the Post Ofﬁce at New York. N. Y.. at Second Class Mail Copyrighted in 1883 by READ”; AND ADAMS. ” January 9. I883. V

 
PRICE. 5 CENTS

N0165. VOL. VII. PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, 98 WILLIAM ST., N. Y.

 
A "TRANGE  L.

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FRAMED IN THE SNOW WAS A HUMAN FACE—THE FACE OF A YOUNG GIRL.

' a short, stoutly—built

2

 
+5.. .STRéNGE GIRL.-

 
.I'AWStrangle Girl; ' ,

l

A NEW ENGLAND Love STORY. i

BY ALBEW. AIKEN. :
CHAPTER I. 
“LET'ME DIE I” l

,A BITTERLY cold evening in the month of *
December, the year 1870. a

A driving snow-storm accompanied by a north-
east le had set in early in the mornin , and at
the me of which we write—seven in t e even-
ing-full eight inches of snow covered in the
streets and house-tops of the city of Boston.

The night w s dark as pitch; the lighted gas
ﬂaring from t 16 street lamps, seemed only to
“ make the darknem visible.”

Few pedestrians were in the streets. Already .
the shops had begun to put up their shutters,
and the good folks, snugly housed, and circling
round their ﬁres, began to speculate about the
prospects for a hard winter.

Through the drifted2 now, piled here and
there in great heaps, ' ausewa street, came
, man, muﬂied up,
and carryin a large‘basket on her arm. A lit-
tle yellow 0g, with sharp ears and a stumpy
tail, carried straight up over his back, followed
the woman. -

Stumbling through the snow—drifts and re—i
solutely facmg the biting blast, that howled ‘
and raged around her as if to pluck the cloak ‘
30m her shoulders, the woman cam 6 Slowly,

(mg. ’ ' . I . ‘ s

The lights streaming from the Eastern depot 5
met her eyes. , .

“ Bress de 1m" 1” ‘she muttered, in accents that

lainly betrayed her to be of the dusky race of

am; “deres dat depot fo’ sure. By gollyl
dis yere ole woman’s t ankful l” '

“Bow-.wowl” said the dog I dartin suddenly
from the track in the snow left by e old wo-
man’s foots‘tapa'and a proaching a snow—drift
oiled iu'a corner agains the side of a house.

*“ W’at’s gin matter grid gulf” oggedﬁthﬁold

roman,“ yrpausng 00 a r e o.
“Bow-yow-yowl” cried the dog, sharply, angd
each . cular hair on his body seemed to
stand end

on .

“ ou gmfobnumii’ ,Pete, w’at’s do matter -
wid yo? I; lspéck’s you want .fur to make 111
catch mydeitlof cold in dis yore wind.” I ‘ ' ' .

- The dog-Wed agaiuandlonger than before;
to root with his nose in the snow-
’ his paws to assist his .nose,
and dig with allhis might.

 
thenhe
bankihe  _~
and toners

 
“Dat'ki¥y&;dle mad forlorn-e!” muttered the d

negress, a reaching cautiously, plowing her
way throng thedeep snow. " t 33., - 

As the old  approached, the
suddenly, having made quite a hqleiﬁ  V ight ,1
snow,-l his snoutwandcgayeuenttoa long
and, laintive howl, . ‘, 7.1 .  .f' ”
“ ress de Lord!”crledﬁen 
“dat doghowls as if date was : o f 
The dog jumped to one side as m. ress ap- ,
reached, and, ,n  with  m i
he hole which'he ’ made. j I ‘ ,~ , ‘ ,- 
. The old woman acted-ﬁth 0mm? 4
e .

   
was dark, yet shecouldplamly‘ _ _ v ,
dark cavity in the snow. ." The echoed the dog, l
unaccountable to her, had awakened'a, fear that
she was about to behold mmething-'id1eadful,
and she was not disappointed. f A, 1. _

Framed in the snow was a. h ' an two—the
[ace of a young girl. The}, ' hair, black as
night ﬂowm loose] down,  in the gala
face from w once t e rud hood. ed.
That face was so beautiful w th its clear trans-

parent skin, white asthe . ed marble in its
regular outlines andperf proportions, that the

old woman, in her ample way, thought at ﬁrst
she looked upon an_angel who had strayed from
heaven to earth, ndmg upon the bosom of the
snow-cloud, rather than on a mortal like her~

self. . ~ ’
The negress stood like one transﬁxed: but the
dog, being an animal, and therefore, not given
to human weakness, .ve another bowl, and
then commenced to lick the face of the beauti-
ful girl who lay imber bridal dress of snow,
waiting for the coming groom, grim Death.
Tenderly the rough tongue 0 the dog lapped
away the snow-ﬂakes from the 1’s face.
Coming tbher senses at last, . .e negress bent
over the senseless r1, and se1zmg her in her
strong amis pulled or out of the snow-drift.
“ e’s dead for sure,” the old woman mut—
tered. as she held the light, motionless form of V

 
, anyuse fur to talk like dat.
gomg fur to let you die kase he sent Pete and

. the rl in her arms, but when she pressed her
black cheek against the alabaster one of

ea
he girl, she felt the warmth of the blood still
coursing feebly in the veins. '

“I ’speck’s a little whisky would fotch her
kase dat’s w’at it’s good fur.” Then she looked
around her carefully]; .The inspection was hard-
ly needed, for the ivin
ing blast alone surround them. ,,

‘ I reckon dere ain’t any State comfort’bles
’round,” she muttered. “ kase I don’t want fur
to have de whisky took away from me.”

It was evident that the old lady referred to
the State constables and the license law.

She drew a good—sized ﬂask from her pocket,
and removing the cork, forced some of the
li uor down the throat of the sensless girl.

he yellow dog sat on his haunches, and with
an air of intelligence, which plainly signiﬁed his
approbation, surveyed the proceedings.

‘ Dere, honey, dat will fotch you!” the ne~
gross said, caressin ly smoothing back the coal-
black hair which, ank as wet sea-weeds, fring-
ed the lovely face.

The liquor was of the worst kind, almost ;
powerful enough in its strength and badnoss to "

raise the dead. Like a stream of liquid fire it

coursed down the young girl’s throat; a. convul- ‘

sive shudder shook her slender form, and a deep
sigh came from her parted lips. ,
The snow still poured dowrx pitilessly, and the

cruel north-ouster still roared and stormed, yet 
'> the old woman heeded not the drlvinrr snow nor
the piercing wind; :1 human life trembled 1n the ;

balance within her arms. What was the strife
of the "loxnonts to the human struggle for exist-
once?

The nogress poured some of the whisky into i

her hand and bathed the girl’s face with it. As
the sufferer inhaled the powerful odor of the

spirits, again she shuddered; The limbs stiff—

ened for a moment, became rigid, then relaxed,
and with a low mournful‘ sigh, more like the
echo of 'a sigh than a sigh itself the great eyes
opened—the great staring black eyes, almost
superhuman in their wondrous beauty—so
large, so bright, and Within them shone a lus-'
trons .light, like unto the shimmer of the sun-
shining upon the rolling waves of the great
green ocean. ', ' > ,

For a moment the girl stared blankly into
the, t black .face that was peering down so
close yinto her own, then, amazement appeared
within the great dark eyes. ' ‘ U

“Ye ain’t dead, honey, brass de good Lord
for datl” exclaimed the old woman, piously,

' the true spirit-of thankfulness beaming In every
.line’oi' her good, kind y

1 face.
The 1 turned her head slightly as if to gaze
about fer; the dog noticed the motion.’ In—

stantly he stood up on his hind legs and in— 

understood that With nose and claWs he had not
dug ' the snow-bank in vain. ,
> “. n’t beafeardhhoney; dat’s only Pete;
he’s a do ; he smelt you out in de snow,
jest ' e a‘ li 1e, ,yaller angel,” said his owner,
with enthusiasm. ‘ .
ﬁd’hdmm‘“ of
on 1 arm _ e negress. .
“Does ye feel weak, honey?” asked the old
woman, benevolence beamin in eve?t wri 1e
on her sable face. “’Jes’ta e ’nuth rsuck'at
(lat w y.” « ' ' ,
“.Wbo‘ are you?” muttered the. girl, taintly. '
“‘Why, Lor’, brass yer I’se only Aunty Di-
nah,” answered the so. le—hued  f‘
doosn‘t live yore. I lives down at Biddefomd

: whar do big mills are, heap 0’ miles from dis

yere place. I was jes’ gwine to do do , when
dat‘yaller dog 0’ mine—dat Pete, sme ,’you out
in do snow—bank.” .’ ’

l “Wh ' didn’t you leave me alqnel’ﬂthe girl
asked 8 owly, and with broken nts. ,.

“ “ W’at’s dat, hone ?” cried the old “ Aunty,”
inastonishment. “ y golly! dis yore ole m

nebber sleep a wink dis night if she’d left a ga
like you in dis re new But ain’t
’cording to do So pters.” ,

' “Go away!” muttered the undeniably un-
happy suﬂlerer, strivin feeny to release her-
self from the gals-gig; t e old woman. ' .

“ W’at, moi y, w’at’s dis ole nigger
done ﬂat on send her away?” cried the negress,
in asto ' ment. .

‘I‘ I want to die!” the girl mummies.

“Win, I done guess on nob r reads do
Good kl” said Dinah, so emnly). “ DarVaih’t

e Lord isn’t

me fur to pull on out 0” de snow.”

At the men on of his name the dog ap- 1
against the ?

proached, and thrust his cold nose
check of the girl: then he crave a quick. Shnv'f.

a.

snow and the howl-

in a series of short, lively barks. He,’

,. 3’
girl feeblykh’er. head ~

u l  ‘ y , r
 seems... a... age

that he consi ered he had done a wonderful
thlnﬁ 1n rescuing the girl from the snow—drift.
5 I “ ere, does yin hear dart? It?s._ole Pete tell—
: mi‘yerhow glad he is fur to see you speak.”
l I don’t want to speak—I don t want to live,”
and the girl broke intoa ﬂood of tears—bitter,

burnYing, scalding tears.

,‘oumnstnttalklikdth ' ’

wicked, dat is.” » e a ’ oney’ .dats
“I am not ﬁt to live,” was gasped through

tears.
l  £0?“ 1 you ain‘t dgne stole anything?”

, “Ye ain’tkilledan bod 
{ :Iillfo’tlh‘mld y Y?” a

' . en 8 0 “981358 e lexed look
i at the hand of the girl;- lhgphand’so (his
fair, it shamed the driven snow fresh from
g heaven’s garners. v

“ She ain’t married, kase dere ain’t any ring
on her ﬁnger,” the old negress muttered to her-
self. “Maybe honey, dat de young man am
you loved has fooled yer?”

“No, no, I have never loved any one,” she
murmured, the tears still streaming down her
cheeks.

"ih‘ore de Lor’l I’d like fur to lmow w’at
dis yore poor (:hile has domeé"

“Won’t you go awa and leave me alone!"
the sufferer asked, plai ively.

“Loavo you yore in dis snow-bank, bone i"
j exclaimed Dinah, in astonishment. “W y,
‘ dis old nig nebber hold her head up arter dat.
By golly! I ain’t gwine fur to let yer die dis
bressed night.”
' “ I must die!”

“If yer don’t hush up now, brcss dc Lor’,
I set Pete on yer!” said the negress, threaten—
in y.

% I don’t care,” muttered the girl, closing her
eyes again.

“Dat dog, Pete, 598’ eat yer right up now,
sure. ’So, oney, git up and come w1d yer

, “ o; I laid down here inth corner, so that
' I could die in peace under the’snow. Go away,
I and let the snow cover me up and hide me from
. all the world.” a
A‘ ,ddellli idea  to; the kindly so’ul.
‘ 3. you ain go an mono .
“ 03:0 cent in tbe'world.’¥ y
“Ain’t done got any friends, honey!”
3 " No, no friends)”;
| “ Dat’s de reason you want furto die!"
‘ “Yes, one. , ’ t I am notvﬁttodivel”
exglgtmed the  again to the old
8‘1 . V ’ f  . ‘ "
“JBress do In)?!” cried  in aston-
g ishmant; “w’at hasyedonei’i ‘ , f -
. “ Nothing—nothing!”
“:‘WVell, if ye ain-

ll val-x, a very oyful bark, Which plainly told

t” done nuﬁln’, you isn’t
e to die. If you hain‘t got an money,
' es’ you come right alonglwidyer o e aunty.

lives ’Wa down in B deford,,Ma1ne. I’se
’gwine to  gurtogohome.
ouékin come.  1
on o 4 .

 ‘ A ,  igpmthe 531’s
Team; it was. plain that"  s
over the offer. ' ' -

‘. “Biddeford?” she   - . '
, . “HY '.  . ﬁ’s\d,   from dis
. yam. ,   «1'3th is.” ‘ ,

‘i Mill
“ e cloth.”
7, (1 get work

there?” girl sai bong tam .

3 {‘01 comes yondkinl”’ciied thee!!! woman,
b, y. -“ 1' washes ,for ‘de gemmen of do big-
gist mill dere. I  dem all.” - f
“ No one will know me. at .Biddeford,” the
1, murmured, evidentgﬁvh communing with
alersglf, and unconscious, 't she was speaking
ou . ~ - J, ,, v . "

“ Dat so, honey; will you be a good 011110 and
come wid yer o e aunty’i” the negress asked,
assistin her charge to rise to her feet.

Stan ng, the girl was of the medium hight,
and even the loose We roof cloak which she
wore could not disguise e matchless beauty of
. her perfect form. .

She was very weak and could not stand with-
out assistance. ' ~-

“ But I have no, money,” she exclaimed.

“ I kjn'pay r fare, honey; dat’s only lendin’

honey, you’ll make more money at dat
in a week dan yer ole aunty in a mont ."
“I will go with you; what is our name?”
“Dinah Salisbury; Aunty inah do folk:
calls me.”
“ M name is Lydia—Lydia Grame.”
l “ Dat’s a nutty name.”

you:

to do Lord i you nebber pays me: but, bress

 
 ;  The 'old  . used the'h'oodu n the
‘ ' ' “ l’sfhead and   ,k the dﬂrﬁolOClis.

 
3““ H

_  NI”; \ ‘I'i": I.
, . M, I v , »-. r <
’g’r 7 ,; ' ,- 1‘3 -, ‘ i, ‘H ‘W‘
. . , . w
r , ‘ . , ‘ .
, . .‘ ‘1 _ I , . I,
g V _ ‘ " .‘v

./,»,4 \...‘*, .1. ;,,.
.  e ,  _ nth»,

 
, s

\

. ,_ ,u. on sheen portedherto' ' depot; ,TheS r._

l

  the 's‘ Alligators. 6

~ the» t '

\,y

, ‘did tinto’,’
was. ’

7  fellow \with- {a round

f large and

, the three-stile dog Pete being
, one of
State of llama -,
. ‘ . .’ ., CHAPTER II.
 m msram. em. I
5 TE! towaot Biddeford, Maine, in the .pleas-
ant menth of A ‘
In, a lar e
House. Wh fronted on the little square in the
. center oil/the village were four men.
/ One sat by the window—alittle fellow with
shortscut a. h e mustache or almost
supernatural blackness. t was just in the dusk
oi} the evening, but
him to read at a
red and black, whic was xed to a board,
leaning against the wall of the post-adios build-
mg‘ opposite, and which announced the coming
of the ‘ Ori ' ' tor role.”
“The little fellow. was the “celebrated Johnny
Snodgers, the Silver Cloggistﬁ? tide th0,P05ter
aforesaid. , ' '
. Two more of the “ Alligators ” sat by a table
. in thevcenter of the room—one, a short thick-set
; the othﬁr, a
persona e, m a
The

l

 
I

thin, Yankee-locking .

1am rnrjawed countenance. t of th:
- two was knoWn, gestural] ,_ as “Fatty‘
- essor a

ndel Hill, the

,E ‘1 V u worid Innownea woman” W “poster,”as

\ fore.

' The fourthone stood leaning carelessly against
the mantle’piece-a young, dashy, handsome
1. fellow of twenty-ﬁve, with the face and formof

an Apollo. Golden hair curled in little silken

.‘clusters all over his shapely head; his features

were regular and clearly out; his eyes were
 a. bright, deep blue.~ Agolden
mustache over un his full, red li and a
. little we! t 6 same hue gracedS his chin.
the was ' elegantly, quite a contrast to

e  atisre othis companions. He was
known as slay ”Brick, and was the Manager of

1 It was. Krmm the looked the u-
: £31113?“ a stormy discussion?”
“ , ,1 > ‘. V, 4 \.

ell, this is the worst old part that lever

I Mr. Snodgeis said, wyith an air of

“Inevérseeld anothin like-i ’,’the“ch -
bot”. . ,rsmglkei t’ V' 
,« I had staid at home,” :Hill said,

_  nypgriek, observed. . .
it”? “a a that??? with???“
.,, , ys an e see “one
immoral, W assumed humming the

o .

Mr. Snodgers,

‘V tune, ‘. V , , , ; 7
I. V. g and £210: W m hotshot}; Snodgers

    
we

 éf dignity.
 r- ' “In your. own 0

, “‘.

ﬂ .

  We may do better somewhere else?”
 In his

n

“ If you had ’a’ had the  ’ wewosldh’t

_ inion. new but the,  ,
gublic, who ytheﬁ meney, do 1‘
rIOkriP” .1 net 'tedli
.. 3 cos am a room .
:EAnd you never  , I’m afraid.” .

by don’t you go on, Mr. Brick? _Perhaps

'Hill asked,

sober, innoce

nt way. The manner ,of the

- * 3 ‘ “$511185 Was in strong contrast with the low, '
- ';  313 tone of the other/two.

thank you," said’Brick, quickly and

inmly- “I’ve had about all I want 

“$5” 90* ab." £1 know when I’ve got enoug

' ,m Wm hun dollars out. of pocket, and
158’s quite ' n - ,

  
L. ‘Wheife’s‘the rest of the boys?” asked‘Suedgv .
pseddealyw r a f‘ .  '
‘m’hhlﬁ‘fﬂllla I’rather think that they are,

 
‘1alld6vtn at tede

‘the partyWard to the,

great ream, in the Biddeford'

still with h ht enough for
luring Mr,” printed in

‘ézlligatprs ’ have '

n’t  so,"

Waiting for the next
train “to I . V, one came anatoldme
conﬁdentially that he was goin , and that he
wasn’t going' to say anything a t it tothe
rest ” Brick said. ‘ V V r
if guess we had better go, too!” Snodgers
cried, suddenly, rising. The others followed
his example. _ , .
‘Snodgers and Kline seized their hats and m-
struments and rushed out of the room wi out

and o ered his hand. . , .
“ Good-by, Mr. Brick,” he said; “I’m really
scary; that! you didn’t have better luck; we too

“Oh, it’s all right, old fellow,” Brick replied;
“we would have run if the rest hadn’t been
suchr'a set of infernal scalawags that there was

Take 111 advice

no getting along with them. 7 

and don’t have ?ything to do wit them;

you’re theonly ge t onion in the party. Good-
Yo I ’ '

Hill departed and Brick was left alone. He
took the chair that Snodgers had vacated, and
sat downby the window; then he drew a cigar
from his, pocket, lit it, and gazed idly out into
the street, l ‘ 4 ,

“When one door shuts another opens,'they"
say,” he mused, between the fragrant ulls of
smoke. ‘ “Where is the door for me? but a
deuced strange world this is,’anyway! Here,
from the a e of tweIVe u to the present time,
I have live in the world gulling
man—sWindling, the wor d terms t. Now
when I got into this infernal speculation I_had
a little over two hundred dollars. My con-
science reproached me; the aforesaid conscience
said, ‘ Brick, on have been an infernal swind-
ler all your 1i 6; now. here’s a chance to be an
honest man; become the manager of a minstrel
band, and, make a fortune by s‘windling the

ublic collectively instead of individually.’ I
istened. to that ‘ small, still voiaa,’ and what is
the result? For six‘ days I have been compelled
to associate with the biggest lot of blackﬁuard .
that I think exist in the world; not a gent
in the crowd but one. I discover—too
that my minstrels are all humbugs—hangers on

to the sable ranks, soalawags of the worst '
who disgrace themselves as they have '
me. Heaven I’m. clear of them, and.
nowonce more to use my wits to fool the world
out of heir loose change. We a pleasant eyen.
inﬁ. take a stroll up the stree ” , _
- rick descended the stairs. As he emerged
from the doorway, a young
ﬁnding near by came forward and,

m. . ,

:lthood-evle’g. My. Isaak,” the said. ‘ built
8 a'erwasa_ ra. erungainl-

s came?le humanity, withva “tow-he_yad-,”*a

:rip'angularv ,,but lit up, by a shrewd,

go -humored.smile.and keen gray; e es. A

,“ Good-evenin , sir,” Brick rep  rather at
alossastowhotespeakerwas. ' ‘

. I i H claimed the s, an r “ ess I’ve, ot aleetle theooncern.”
,gve gone upl”,Snodgexsexcla1med, indignant- this advantagexﬁdi goi’, t131%;you,tﬁtliennight .,  a ,, a 
i “a r m , . _ ' w euyougmapwnp‘ ‘ over. - , a ’11 inc . _. p L 'I .‘ 
‘  1y.“’5’“_W’“hav°msd°abeast9fymlf “9 y  remem ,now,” Bricksaid,ex- “Yes' ishethe voredsd‘itotégmtx  i
 last mght,_ we might have tending is and. "‘Doyo'u reside here?” ' Brick abﬁal’ﬂnﬁ  i ;, v
, gone mﬁﬁmﬁ‘ gag?“ "Show go-mght. an so have “Guess I do; I’m tew hum here; I’m clerkin’, r “ShoWi' , ess ’e“uin’l3!”,; " I’ angr- 
.vwithém" , gimmwn, Brickretorted, but in, a grocery store u E the street yonder, jest ‘uickly. “ Si is‘a, puttyfﬁmflfefneri’bﬁ ftho
1‘ “ Wan; yﬂ‘amoﬁ , , annoyance inhismanner., round the square 95?, dn you evei’ h’ist any on’t care for anybody. " h’hevethwghﬁhé- _
shdw- w--war»=§igeb~ksow howtonianage the ’sonrrmquued the takeasimdnghinoioe jest loves the very ground she walks 91.1596 A ,
“N03933: “9138133931 mamﬂky Way. . awhisper.  . " ‘ . ‘ ' , doesJedHollis.” ’ ‘~ '_ j  _' 
Brick s’aid «‘uiet 51,1?wv'f01hs as you are,” “Well, once ina'wh‘lle.” ,‘ ' 5 “Jed Hollis, who’s he!” Brick   i
ed with n33 Y- When you got acquaint— “Goteleetlethe nicest New England rumnp interested. ‘ ’   3 . 6’
,1 f I thought that  the specu- tothestore you ever didjsee. Got a bottle when, “Jest the smartest ywng mechanic. that - 
£1311, f r If you Worse. regular mica I was inBoston t’other day. Like'to have you there is in the .State 01 Mame. Gottwo on W ’
. i W e Pflwmemﬁck 5°“ W1 told me that on come 23mm sample it- make yourh ‘. curl.” three patents already—smart as ‘e   
9 v ‘1 e29 '0 Xtah isk d hater 01301 a011,, “ ,Idon’t mind,”l3rick said,  We Only tone Wilt: n’he cemes Wm” r 
~ stain... stanza. “2°de 1; t. .‘ a  is; W as on Win '~ '
' .y. . ~  e a. on on "nasow n' u S enema?" stra‘t‘ '
lnghsal, ’Mr. 8110(1891’3.remarked, with an air you?” {1’39 ankee  lg t, ; h’ists more‘New England rum thaiiigWonld  '-

“No; the concern isshutu .”, ‘

“Bu’steéia all to smash, e ? Well, I don’t
want to ‘tter you. I see’d the this up tu
Dover, an’ I thought it was the elﬁredest

V worst show I ever ‘dzd‘see.” . ,
“It was pretty bad, that’s a fact; you see

gas deceived about the formers

0k .d‘ 1 had,"
‘ “Yes' see on don’t know my name, do
you?” , "(ﬁlls YYankee, suddenly. ‘ V ‘
“ No, I doinot remember it.” ‘ ‘

for shark, though.”

Just‘then a" couple  the gWO; *1 Young

girl 831d atall, ﬁne-loo . o " fellow. ,
Bri‘ckcaughta glim I threw "1’s face and
stopped suddenly. com I  ‘ looked at.

him in astonishment.’ I »
s; H

e110!

 
What’s the asserts

‘15 _ ,

 
takinﬁany notice of Brick. But Hill approached V

fellow- ‘

s
eman
la y
fellow who was .

accosted

“Don't remember me, du you? Show!” ex: 1

. .‘fJeregniah Gardner; folks call me  f

 iceberg. Iguess
  1341.8-

41., 7,.  k” ... “has”...

 
‘ *9.1~gana’"‘“ ifBricksaid"  I ‘ ”
'exgressionnggmtace. ‘  '  r 
~What of. er?” .

“I think I know hem-no! ,,.I didn’t exactly j "
mean that,” he said, just a  confused,  1:
what I mean is that she looks like a girl that I _

‘ used toknow down South.” , ' i ‘
“I ess she "neverrwas down South,” Gard- , r
ner said; “ leastways, I never heard her 513%}; ‘
of b‘eingdown there.” ' '  1’1"
“ You know her, then?” '
“Well, I should say I,did,” Gardner replied.
"‘Shelivesin the samehouseIdo—éboards '
my mother.” ’ ’ ‘
‘ She dees?”

“ Yes; her name is Lydia Grams. '
in the bi mill across the river.” -

“ A im l-hand, eh?” " ‘ ,

“Jest so; but don’t. ougototurning up our '  

nose at her becauses e is amill—hand. tell .7 ' ' '
you, our Yankee mill-girls ain’t to lug sneezed, ' ‘
at, and as for Lydia, she’s jest as nice a lady asf ,'
ever walked on shoe-leather.” Y , ' '

—“ She looks like a nice girl,” Brick remarked,
carelesslly. ' - s

“ Wel , she is now 1" Gardner exclaimed. ear— _.
nestly. “She’s the gal in this town. ,Why,
she’s got more beau}; than you could shake a
stick at in a Week; that is, I- mean, the.) she
could have ’em if she Wanted Him.” ‘ ' I. ' j, ' , "

“ Who is the young fellow. that she is walking .  ’ 3
with?” Brick askedicarelessly. ‘5 . ' . _;_1.

“That’s Sinclair Paxton; he’s  of
the mill she works in. His father’s about the ,
richest man round these partswwns more of"  ' ‘"
the mill stock than any other man, ’eept Daddy]

2

stemss‘ﬂ "

Embden, perhaBs.” ‘ ,

“And who’s eddy Elnbdeni’"~"‘ » _ y .
~ “Jest the queerest old  id
see. He lives in the big hohseuponth‘e 'll,‘
back of the hotel; gota clatter, putty as'ali  .
sessed. Ain’tshegotatem nth , ‘? Itellf 
you! She makes our stan “re, ‘ when she - 5
sets a-soin’. rtheyissy» 01d De :7 Embden 
used”to be aspecr as Job’s turkey ﬂarevgthe
war. ‘ .

“Howdidhemakehis  _  f
,f‘That’s morethanany ‘ows. Housed"
toown alittle ‘ ' 
market trick all along; Portland , ‘
butwhe’n hewarhro eonhheadhisedhooner "X
disa peered.”' Then Gardner-lowered '
it. am mm It“ “is mow-mm
; a ea in e . ' , . ‘
tnahioekadzmsoum; '.~ w.   j
“Eh-Inning, ... r, _ an “‘~ r ' ‘
es, carrying medicines and powder ﬁnd
y‘armstotheRebs.” ‘ 2 p ’ ,7. ,, a r
, “Oh,Iunderstand.” ,' ' * ‘ ‘V’. 
“ No tellin’. you know,er  "tiny
truth in it, but after the war,'he’ 
withplen of money—sedhemade , ,  ' ’
,_ a big house'up'on‘the’. ;; '7
outs enewful swath-rethat , 
‘ does. TAs tortheoldmanmegoes,’ “
in’ more like some unpenper them*
i ' '

    
a_small-sized grist-mill, a‘n’ swears he’ll‘lay-aout f” '
Sid Paxton some tune. You see he fancies that.
Elie gal dares more for Sid than she does for
In]. , . _ :3
ﬁg“ Then there will probablybe trouble between I
em ‘ , ,
. “ I, guem so. If Jed—Jediel’s his WWan’t g. f»
z  careful he’ll get the worst on it,..£or‘ 
ids a hefty feller an sprynsa cat. Used to * ‘
: boa sailor; run atvay to" see when. he was a ' ,
boy. father, Edm’, und Paxton, ’s 
one or the old stock, nice at man as everlived,  .
konly a leetle WW; his talks Mount in the a ’,
, Mayﬂbwer, but t ey do say that oneioi‘ the 
‘ Paxtcns, ’way, back, married zen lynched»... ~ , -
au’ that’s where’Sfd ts his..dark_ hogan “eyes a. 7 ,
_ from, He’s a good is lea“, but, jest as cold as an ‘ _, ‘
K the‘lold man Would out up like ' " "
E all  1; "he knewsthati Sid‘was hangin‘ “

“Joe-m y. )7 w ,r

    
He

  
La
_., s:

            
A .x S .
v i
’ \

,1 
‘v/.

.\ ~‘ ‘" ‘ss‘Lydial'snotrichtbgei-tl” “ '
‘fRic‘h! Well, I guess-she ain’t, much; he-
‘ sides, she’s a stranger here.
,, would think more (f that; he’s od old New
- :.England [stockgyou now. Now, addy Emir
- denthinks more of money than any thing else.
I guess he’d let Delia marry the biggest rascal
in the world if he had only moneyenough. But,
, ’tween me an’, you an’ the bed-post, I guess that
',Delia. would marry” Sid Paxton if he hadn’t two
cents to rub together.” .
 f‘Y’ou' are pretty well ac uainted with the
way thin?1 are gomg on in t e village,” Brick
sa.id,laug '. .
. “ Oh, yes’; don’t have much to do here. you
. 7 know, but to watch our neighbors,” Gardner
 “said, with a grin. “But, there’sone thino' I
would like'to know, an’ that is, how ‘Dad’dy
Emliden made his money. He never come by it
‘ ’ jhonestly, I’ll swear.”
,  Then the two, having turned the corner. a
"  roacbed the store. A huge elm shadOWedt e
‘ ' mute. \.
“ We use. the ﬂuid for med’cine, you know,”

. ._  .....~_ ﬂaw—A . _.

drink any thing stronger
. here in the State of Maine."

anﬁER m.
LOVE.

than water, down

r. store to which the talkative Yankee had con-
, .z» ducted Brick, wasva small two-story cottage.
‘ » the door, and a great rose~bush covered fully
' one side of the house. , '
 ‘Within, the house was neat and prim. The
, (little parlor, with itsau
1, state, ts round center~ta 1e, innocent of dust,
“  and etched, rocking-chair, was very cosey in~

. indeed. \
. I In the parlor, sitting 

haling the rich odor o t e fragra t vines with-
, , on was the r], know as Lyd Grame, the
v m -hand,.an‘ Binolair Paxtonythe treasurer of
' ‘, ' " the largest mill in Biddeford, in Saco, rather,
v '  a for the mill was on the Saco side of the river.
. “  Lydia Grame we know already. She has not
1 -   airﬁeld} great deal since the hi ht when the

r

I  I , dog Pete and the old back woman
, rescuedlier from the cold embraces of the snow,
“adrift; I-Ier checks have 'grown a little fuller
' . and the blush of health has succeeded the pallor'
;,o£ , cold and exhaustion. .
“ 4 'She‘ was Till-eased very neat! —-a light, ﬂeecy
, . own, white,~with dainry sea, et strips running
  rough it; a knot of bbon of thesame hue
. , “(gathered at the throat, holding the little white
, collar together, and a ﬂame-colored ribbon
” '.'.,,_§sv  the head, bindingiin the glori-

-.  wan  shimmers, and

, " bull . His eyes were black as the sheen
, , vulva, and and piercing as the
 A “a  is bungee ‘brogv‘n—black,
. j .v, we rather o ,cur aroun , is ears.
 f ‘ , a  rather sad face;
1 that betrayed that its owner’s fpigthway

had at been always in the suns e, and,
ﬂ full measure of cares and sorrows had
traced the tell—tale lines beneath the eyes. A
Vince though despite its sad look, which could
ight  a smile, so pleasant, so beaming,
that it made the-person look ﬁve 'ears younger.
‘ ' ton was a man of thirty. f. report spoke

E?

H

a

a; common sailor before the mast; yet in

~ have  itself in harshness, when impel—
..led by fanatic religious spirit, but never yet
a, had lent itself to low trickery, or deceit.
’ Sinclair was , an only child. the sole , heir to
one of the richest. men in the-State of Maine,

_ » Grame, the poor girl :who l ained her bread with
\_ her own hands by daily to l. «
' ' The two had ‘ust returned from their walk.
Lydia 
 ‘ 'ilsual.’
" table, and sitting down, was gazing absently out
' , ' oi thogwindow. r~ . _
' “ hat are you thinking of,,Lyd1at” Paxton
asked, in his rich, melodious tones. -‘
“ I‘do not know,” she replied, slowly.

upon his dark face.
 1y about nothing."
Wu“! own I retract ver
“ "»,thoughts, and yet I am t inking. about some-

.“ _,;.
x,~.:v.

lo “ 3’ :’ ."‘ x’ at r‘ \r
e -; -. A - ./.

    
 ‘ TWENTY or thirty yards below the grocery l
‘ e “ you have proved it in a hundred ways.
, , far below you in station, only a cor girl—”
‘ Woodbine and bone, suckle clustered around i
 htly, a ain interrupting her.

lar black chairsrof ‘

‘*     '      r 

The old deacon ‘

/

f “ll hy should I

Gardner said, with a wink. “’Cos we don’t 

 
. mm], 4,

I "Lydia will that ever comes timewhén ‘
' mm‘, or

you will‘thlnk of me?” Paxton asked, earnest] .

“Oh, why do you ask such a. question?” 6
said mourni'ullyx f V ‘ .

“ ecause I must ask it,” he replied quickly,
“ It is impossible for me to sit here, 100 ' in your
face, and not put such a question to you. Lydia,
I love you.”

“ So you have said before,” the girl answered,
bending her full dark eyes upon the earnest,
noble face of Paxton. . s

“ Lydia, I have asked you to be my
you never yet have a) swer‘ed me.”

" Answer 3d you!” she 5: id, slow]
a half between her white ﬁngers.

. “ W by not say yes or no and end my sus-
pense? he questioned, eagerly.
say yes ' or no?” she said,
“ Why can not we always keep as we

Wife, and‘

y, crushing

‘ slowly.
are?” .
' “ As we are l” he exclaimed, in astonishment.

“ Yes; on tell me that you love me—”

“ And 0 you I ot believe me?” he said, ear-
nestl , interrupting her.

“ elieve out—yes!” she exclaimed, looking
him full in t 9 face with her brilliant dark eyes, '

‘ and im ulsively extending her hand to him.

The ittle white hand once a prisoner in his

,‘broad palms, he did not suffer it to escape "

the 'open window, iii-n?

 
, , . deutly.
straight with‘a‘ stately, noble 1
111118011“ 1

i

l

 
l
l
l

l

truth one who had seen a great deal of the”;
gworld, had traveled to far-011’ foreign climos as ‘
:' , his ' replied.
1 V . r y Veins ran the best blood of New .rliiglarid~the ,
' ."Mayﬁower blood, that may, in the olden time, ;

and \yet he loved the simple mill-hand, Lydia -
, I do.

I coking more thoughtful. than‘
She had cast her but upon the «oenu‘r— :

‘ “ That a strange,” he said, with a uiet smile. . p
' “You are thin ingdeep- V

well explain myf

'.  ‘l’ﬁ,

: inn-6m  sunk one; to» Who has
‘.V r?\\:I 2'4,“   .r

agam.
“I know that you love me.” she continIued;
am

“Oh, what nonsense you talk !’ he exclaimed,

“There is no
ace n honest labor.”

‘ True. yet. rich men’s sons do not usually

seek poor girls’forwives." ‘ ' ,

A shade came over his face.  .

‘3 Do not speak of my father’s wealth in con- ’
neotiou with me,” he said, gravely. “ Think of
me as I tum—simply Sinclair Paxton, working
for my bread exactly as you werk fer yours

“ But you at a rest deal more money for it
than I do,” 5 c said, laughing. ,

“ That is true,” he said. ‘

“But to return to what I was saying,” she

bserved. “You lovo me and I like you. I am i

f ppy in your society. You talk about the
lame things that I like to talk about; you like

the same books, the same poets. Wh not then

continue as we are? "Why speak of ova-handy
marriage?" ' ‘ '

" Because that is the natural . uenoe to
love. Iwant you for my own, for a 1 time to
come,” he replied. ' . _ '

"‘ButI do not think that I lova you well
enough to‘ marrg'fu‘you,” she said, slow] .

“Think how drea it would be if I shou d
marry you and .then afterward discover that I
loved some one else .”

“I have little fear of that,” he said, conﬂ-
“I am certain that you will newl-
marry me until you are sure that you do love
me: and, Lydia, lithink that 1 know you well
enough .to feel assured that yours will be no
ﬁckle love.” ’ -  I 4

gi‘iYéiu iihinkdthat you knoiv me?” girls, girl
so. ow y, an a s auge smi e appea. u n
her beautiful mas. ' Are you sure that 
reall know anything about me at all?
mom 1‘, I am almost a stranger to you; a
short eight months ago on andI were strain rs
to each other: You 0 not know "anyt n
about my at life; you do not know what
may how one, what I may have been. ‘ Are
you not venturing your love upon an uncertain
sea! Many a ragged reef may rear its head
beneath the surface of the shining wave.”

“ With lov‘e for my pilot, I do not fear,” he
“I feel sure that your , life has
been as blameless” is ymirpresen one.” '

' A shudder passed over the s ' ht form of the
girl. . Paxton felt the little hen grow suddenly
cold and tremble within his own. I

' “What’s the matter, Lydia?” he asked;
“ our hand is as cold as ice. .

‘Oh, nothing,” she said, with a and smile.
“I am nervous sometimes, and— But there,
don’t ask me to give an reasons for any thing
A woman, you ow, nevor reasons.” _
“What a strange girl you are, Lydia!" he
exclaimed. , x .

“Do on know, I think so sometimes,” she
aid, quite earnestly and thoughtfully. “I do
ihot seem to have any thing in common with the
rest of the world.” ’

“We would make an excellent couple, than,

u

axton said.

“Well, you are”.

“ Tellme in what way.  ',  v
:‘VWhy; you sonatimes have such odd, silent

,ﬁts; vou look so grave. ,‘Then, too, you love

Y Lydia, for they say‘that I am strange, too,’

a" '

,i


.

» her Words,” hesaid, ‘quietl

said slowly.

frankly ,-

 
l."

l l .

 
she  ever
ion in the We you wanted her to.”

tom: ' «$4.. that she did not think
“ Pcssi lv because 6 actions of thegirl belie .
. y- \ A ' ,.
For the ﬁrst time, a slight blush came into her' ‘
pale cheeks and forehead. ’

 
“ I do not understand how that can be,” she

saidymzzled. _ V
“ cu wish me toexplain?” » _ ' , ,

“ Yes; I confess I do not understand. I ha ve’
always tried to act toward you as I should act: '
to a very dear friend, a brother, one for whom
I could feel a sister’s'love.” .. ' ‘

“ Ah l~and a quiet smile crept over his face——
“ you have always tried; you have been regu¥
lating. your conduct toward me by rules, thén?’ i
You feared to follow the impulses of your
heart.” ‘ .

“ I did not say that!” she cried quickl ./

" No, but the application follows. Vgill you
answer me one qalsestlon?" '

"That depen altogether upon. what the- .
question is.” l I

“ Do you have to regulate
rules in re ard to any one else? ,

The gir was silent for a few moments. She

you conduct by "

looked down at the ﬂoor, then» suddenly she. _

raised her eyes to the young man’s face.

“I do not Wish to answer that,” she said;’
shyly, a half-smile creeping over her face. ‘
‘ ou blame me for loving you when you
give me such encouragement as that?” and

a smile appeared on his dark face also. “You, ,
I do not ma e such rules 111 re d to any one-
else. If report speaks true, have a dozen

rivals for your love, and yet I do not
one of them. Do you know why?”
The girl shook her head.
“ Because you do not fear them.”
“ I do not understand.” ‘ ’ '
f‘You do fear me; that is, you have deter»
mmed not to love me and you fear that you.
will do so, despite yourself..” ‘ . ' .
“ I am no match for you in reasOning,” she-

a

“ ou do. not deny the truth of my words?’,

“ Of what avail would that be? It I did, in.
your logical way you would clearly prove that
I did not; therefore I shall not' attempt it,”
she said, smilin .

- “ Therefore, it clearly follows that, ifI prove '4

in ‘my logical way’ that you ought to marry
me, u W111 do so without further at: merit.”
“ 0,110,!” she exclaimed. “I‘sh‘r not be
quite so gesitive as that. But on “said just
now that y my acts I encourage you to hope. ,

‘Now I confess I cannot remember'doing any~

thin at all to encourage’ you, except showing,
BOSS] ly, that your society is leasant to me;
at fhat is only friendship, not ve.” _

“ Unmnsciously ou betray to me that ,you
do care something or me,” be said, gravely. '

. “ Please explain.” 4 p ., r ‘ .

“ A moment since, im ulslve . you extended ‘
your hand to me. I_too it; it as remained in—
my ever since, and you have manifested
no desire to withdraw ” l ' ’
She looked him inthe
blush upon her, cheeks
quietly withdrew her hand I
in her face away, lepked out of the wmdow.

e twill ht was ripening fast into the som—
ber'glomn- theolgh The crickets were sings '
ingmerrily and the. perfume of the
borne on the gentle breeze of t
glazed the little parlor with a sweet,

nlove—«that,  quiet
tw ht. v v *‘

v “ y my own words I mbmiself of the pleas-
ure of holding that little w ite . hand within
my own. I s -—for you bid we spea
even though I cared that my words would die--
please you.” , ,  .‘ ‘

“ You attach too much im ortance to triﬂes,”
she said, coldly.

.faoe'for I moment :i the.
deepened, and then she

ﬂowers,
evening,
toxica

r.
It was.a time for

«pr.

“ I am too ish somethnes. and ‘

fear any i

from his, and turn- J

‘ ting 

‘t.

é

 
ield to, impulses, then blame myself afterWard. " “i

,.

was um onscious that my  had remained \, 

in ours.”
" And

11 that unconsciousness I build my
hopes. If within your, heart

you did not

something for me, you would, have been cou-~ .
sclous that my handheld young. prisoner. i :

But I fear that I have offended ou,iso'I will

ea good-night and trust that be are we meet .
again you will have pardoned me forspeaking - ?

took. his hat, and opened; the ;"
door. Lydia did not move, until the. (100 ;
creek , Then, suddenltkshe :- x,
~toher feet, and,thr _ htheduak' f ,

' outstretc ed hands advanced, to: u

so lainly.” /
axton rose,

ed’on its '
o
mght with
ward’her lover. « - r i , 7 , . ' v.
I » “ You are offended now,” slab said, plaintive-1y.-
.‘V‘Oﬁ‘ended Lydia!” he exclaimedlinfdigg

 
 ‘v’i

coming j

3.

     
' “tones, full of Suppressed ’ansion: “cites-dead:

 
; \

  
. :~.‘A

 
,.‘.r.._,(: l,  V

1

 
i: ,  wow...”

you; the girl whom‘I love. ’beyond'expressionl" ,

'1 , and he clasped the extended hands of the girl

withinvhisl’own’ broad palms, ihen,with a suds“
den motion, which ‘- she did not strivo to resist.

_ he drew her to his breast and folded ,his strong

anneal-0mm her, piercing her close to his heart.
a x lee one incapa eof motion, passive-she laid
iier head down On his breast and nestled closely
in his army. ‘ I . - , '
'_ “‘ You are'so noble—so, good to me."
. “‘And why should I not be?” he asked, press—
ing his lips caressineg upon the pure, white

I

r _ forehead. “I love you. Lydia-how well,
v ‘time alone W111 show—and I shall go on hoping

q

 ,gand l oping thpt some day you will return. that

 I you,” she murmured.

l
l

I  with little soft kisses.
, you have made me so happy!”

I

 , World formal His
‘, f’a very heaven!”

~;-“1it the

V 5' ’ - Lydia leaned against the door-casing;

. some.

love."
“ You must not love me; I amunworthy 0f

f‘You are a foolish child to say so,” he re-

,‘ ﬁlled, and then with a tender, caressing touch

e endeavored to raise her head and bent over

to kiss her; their eyes met—they could just dis-. '

guish each" other in the dusky twilight; she

.l'shOOk her head.

“N0,” She murmured, softly, “not my lips.

' You may kiss m forehead—my cheek, if you
' 1&6; When I yiel my lips to you, then you may

know that I love you, although I

Speak the words that sa so.” -
“Good-by,” he said): bathing her forehead

“ I must not stay longer;

may never

. A moment, and he was gone. thy ‘
e
'Ver'y ‘air seemed less sweet, wanting his pre-
She felt like'one in a dream. v
‘ ,“‘Do I love him?” she murmured, slowly.
“Is there such happiness in this cold, cruel
ove

'.”Then she went slowly to the mantlepiece and
lamp which was placed there. Astslie
"turned, she saw a ﬁgure standing in the door-

. "_Way._ A look of horror came over her face.

~ « l’l’ith’ outstretched hands she gazed with dazed

, ' features; or Dans

» 0: smile that betrayed a greatdeal of satis-
L  the look uptm her face was one of horror;
‘ grave, her
_ _ intently—her lips have been more white.
,  moving his hat'and bowing in his e113
,‘f one here in this quiet country town. 5
_ .‘ ﬁnalised me a short time a
~ f; you at once.
 “thgytcld me Miss

“ "giggle

. aker.
f "l “Eccidental 7m a,“ r
".31. replied, with ail-aﬁel- {harmim'

" §yseinpon the stranger. V '

e the man; it was-Daisy Brick!

1'.

 
CHAPTER IV.
HUSH MONEY.

" . Wrrn a, face as white as the mantlepiece to ‘

which she chm I, d- . . p
the doorway. g.’ y la gazed. upon the man 
., There was a.quiet, pleasant smile, upon the
y Bn‘v‘k, as he surveyed the

0 been ,a specter, newly risen, 'fromthe
eyes could not have stared more

“ Gwdcvening,.Miss Grame,” Brick said, gei
u
seeing
can as.
sure you I was very much surprised when you
on the street. I
have such an excel-
! inquired who you was, and
Grams ”

way. “No doubt you‘are aetonish ’a
I

.rniemory. ~

.“Why‘ hate you come'here?” the gir‘ 1 said

shard-grammbrpathl thatldcgmé
_ 7 Gen. ‘ pear ytee ain to OW'
iﬁgepse was feeling that ﬁlled all; heart of

lss Lydia,” Daisy
Go away at once!” the gir mild, rather

I...“

'  _, “then spoke. ;

 
i * tmalice whatever, toward

, I,  Your coming,

-_ ".“Go awayl” Daisy exclaimed," in a tone of

 as. , Moment.

. ' ‘Yes, ou'r resence is'death tame» .

7‘ “Deal: 1” Bale ’swonder was '

:f’é‘ffvfh‘ .‘hgw can mitt] beg; d “'“migned'
 L - ave an un me ownr’th
 witlir white lips and staring eyeiFi’I
"""‘ “TQM?! dear Miss Lydia, let me assure you that»

 
.1 . ,‘ rmllliiéit to, Biddeford has nothing whatever to V
 a; ﬁgggyu “on. ,How‘could I

7 $398 that you‘wero
V _ t ‘object have I
 am note“ detective ofﬁcer, nor have I any
. . ‘ am You Passed me

cm “38 Street-eleaning on the arm a very ﬁne“
loolnng young man, by the way—I recognized '
 ' and, W t more natural than the demo to

call upon an 01 friend?” "

e I 0 not believe ion!” the girl cried, blunt

 , are means no to ,me-
 -,myrevxlr genius. From t e moment
Isaw your facedateulithemisery ofmy

‘4
o
,5

 
would make this earth W

hunt you down? ‘

faded, ands eon, cruel look camerint‘o his blue

eyes. . 1 . . . a» .
"Hate? No, no'rthat is not the Word I,” ex-
claimed thogirl, quickly. “ Iloathe—fear you:
you inspire me with horror. I. know that you
,menn me some dreadful wrong. I am helpless,
powerless’against you. Your presence makes
' me mad—wild with fear.” ; ‘ '
The look of pain upon the white, distorted
face of the young girl Would have moved a.
llgeart of stone, but it had but little effect upon ,
ais ’

Brick. *

“. 31 have something particular to say to
on,‘ and as the saying of that something will
ake u some little time, I trust you will excuse

moif takeachair.” ‘ '

The young man ulled the rocking-chair
from the corner into he center of the room and
sat down in it. The girl never stirred from
her position by the mantlepiece, but with the
Wlld look of the wolf entrapped in the pitfall, ‘
glared upon her visitor. ,

“You seem very. comfortably ﬁxed here, ‘
Lydia,” Daisy said, after a. glance around the
cosey little parlor. “When we parted, you
said you were tired of life and wished to die.
I see, though, that you still live.”

“ Because I am a. coward,” the girl said, bit-
terly. “ I have not the courage to kill myself.
I was near death once, but a fellowzcreature
stepped from her path into mine, and rescued
me ’

“ Why should you want to die 3” Daisy ques-
tioned. “ A young, beautiful girl, the blood in
$01” veins full of life, full of passion,” and

aisy laid a, strong emphasis upon the word.
“Life should have many charms for you. If
report speaks true, all Biddeford is at your feet
—and prettier feet Biddeford could not kneel
before. They say that you are the belle of the
town; a. dozen suitors follow your steps eager
for your smile; yet you are only a poor In: 1~girl.

‘ My‘iace is my fortune, sir, she said—"

And your face is your fortune, my dainty Lydia;
a. fortune which I think that I ought to have a.
share in, Lydia, m » charmer. , I am in that
state which expres ve men term ‘ broke,’ and
vulgar ones, ‘bu‘sted.’ I want money. I sup-
ose it is hardly necessary to mention that that
18 a ver _ common want. Youmust help me.” ,
“I he p you!” cried the girl, and ahot, angry' '
ﬂush came over the marble-like face.

know who you are
me further ﬁrst, and
you mustn‘t say anythin
{131; are goin to d ) exec
affair. his  jus
know. I'posscss a ce
you; yield. to m demands, or} speak! Isn
that thrilling? tell you!” ~
“I do not care whether, you speak orgnot,” '
cried the girl, hurriedly. “I will not be the
slave that {on would make me.” , ;
v “You on’t care for the opinion of the
world?" , I ‘
“ No, I do not l” Lydia. said, desperately. '
“ You do not care for the opinion of Sinclair '.,
Paxton, either, oh?” and there was a cruel
smile on Daisy’s face as herput the question. ' j
The girl started; her bosom heaved and the

aging to say. You’d sec
on you wouldn’t.) But
of the sort. because
a as I want you to in

e a romance, you

in secret concerning
t

Brick laughedw-low, exulting laugh. s
“ Oh, what a dear, sweet, innocent child you %
are!” he said in. mockery. “ You love this fel- l
low, eh? lie has triumphed where I failed. l
This cold-blooded, icy New Englander has taken
you for all you’re worth.
0 inion of he world, but on do’ care for him.
ow I’ll speak plainly. ield tomy demand, or
else I’ll interview Mr. Sinclair Paxton, and tell ,
him some few rs of the life of the girl 2
‘who now calls herself Lydia Grame,” l
The tone of banter was all gone now, and
brute' assurance had takenits place.
“ How muchmoney do you wantV’Lydia said, 2
slowly and with downcast hedd. é
I“ ﬁll that you can give me,",I)eusy‘ replied,
un Y. a v _’
:: JI haven’tbnliiuch.” - th ” l
‘ wont no any more an possess, 3
Brick said, with an ugly sneer, 5‘ mmu needn’t '
look as if you“ were gom to. be killed right of! ,
Without judge or jury: here isn’t any need of
being heroic in this matter. Make it my interest
to keep my mouth shut, and you are perfectly ;
sag‘easfarasIamconcemed.’ ~ '
I have onlyr thirty dollarsin the world,” the I
Elf} sa1d,slow ' ’ - I ‘

may, ehey'msu, give me. twenty-ﬁve.”

You don’t care for the I

l
u

 
“charts summon!!!

x ,r

"u ' m w < '
«em-“E “WWW  ,

,X 
._ N \ , _  (y,
w . I?“

ml the prettime'xthe smile uponBi-ick’s face ' V iL‘And never trouble  ' '3
l 1106::

5 use such a power, eVen if he possessed it; he is ‘

1 out of the great world of gulls, than force ou’ta“...  'H I

call upon you for aid if I can possibly do without
‘ it

9‘ Exactly-don’t trouble yourself to speak: I‘ ‘

deadly whiteness again came over her face. * [ bv

: ing tears  rom her eyes.

a

.centereggie,  which the;ng  ‘ tenure

4

a slight laugh; “The secret that I'possem‘ is ',
wo more than tWenty—ﬁire dollars. Suppose .
I should go to Sinclair Paxton and say to  é-
‘ I know all the particulars of the early life 0
Lydia Grame; you love her; give me ﬁfty-ore;
hundred dollars and I will put you in possession ,

of a. secret which makes her a slavo to the 1mm .  ‘
who knows it.’ Don’t you suppose that he wOuld ' . .
gum at the offer?” , ' ~« ., " ‘
' “ o,” the girl said, quickly; “he would not.

‘ - “ Oh, I can’tprbmise that

   
too noble.” ‘ ,- 

“ He’s a. man, and in love with you; few men
in this world who are not idiots oncein their
lives when a pretty woman is in the case,” Daisy
said, sarcastically. ‘ v p .'  

“ Then When this money is gone, you will come 7 p 5'  .
back for more?” the girl asked slowly. _ , , , . /

“ No, not that exactly, My head is clear and , 
my wits good. I would rather trick my living,-

support 'me with your hard earnings. at at. . " j,- 
present I am hard pushed, and must. have" . .::'_
money. I will be honest with you. I Will not _ «A;

“ Wait a few minutes and I will bring you the j  1-H
money.” Lydia left the room. ‘ . *  '
Dais looked after her thoughtfully. ' f
“ W at course of action shall I take in this
matter?” he asked, comm'uning with himselfu 
“ Shall I let this love affair con—let her ” ’ ,
this Sinclair Paxtonl B ﬁve! .the thought 33 ‘
wormwood for I love or myself' that, 18,38 ‘
much as  can love any one: lint it Iletj ‘ '
her marry» this follow, through her I can get
at his money. Aha! that’s a m niﬁcent idea," .. -
and Daisy rubbed his hands toggsier softly; ,- “ , ,
The adventurer judged others by himself; he
did not for a. moment doubt t at the young girl ’ r .
would really marry her wealt y suitor. - ,, '
Lydia‘s return put an end to his mediation.
In her hand she held a little roll of , >
“There,” she said, and she gave e money _
into his hand. , ' TA  , V . «5. _,
“ Just twenty—ﬂVe,” he said, glancing atAth'o , ’ 

bills. < » , . ., ~ _,
go!” she exclaimed, impu: } 

“ Yes, and .now
tiently. ' . , V 
He rose to his feet, a grimace on his face. , _  v .f‘f
“ You turn _me;out without ceremony,” to. ,. .
said. movin toivard‘the door. 7  .   a '
“Because cannot breathe freelywhile you" 3
are here 1” she exclaimed. ‘ r ., ..  ,7 A .
“ And yet there was a timem” \    
“ Do not speak of the past!” she cried, huts .  
riedly, interru ting him. “I have striven‘to‘ ,, , I
forget— raye tha,t the past might  a  v 
to me. - or mercy s sake do not recall the We ‘ ,
ful thoughts.” \_   .2 
“ Well, I will bid you good-by,” heksaid, “1’6" . ,
lesslyi “ I will remain in town for a tow  e. -? a: 
so vou need not he astonished if you see  It ’ » ‘v "‘

 
willbeas weilthat wesho‘uldap as, _  ,
to each other, forit ight l to  l 
questions if it was nown that    
iriends.” '  ;  T?

“,Friendsl” said the girlfwitha  "
an???” ‘Curlzd'that hi” hi  

‘ ou’ ispu , e e , , 
“ “Lon, we won’t quarrel about ,a, wordggooﬁ;

  
His step sounded in the entry, and,  . -
garden gate crooked behiudhun, , .   ,9 a

Lydia sunk down in the rockmg—chain; hen 
strength was all one now, and a ﬂood or maids  ; a _

\

CHAPTER V. l     V ,

n u: Eli YANiElggmlimrunge,  '
Pen 9' overoo'gte.  

the mansion of I‘eleg Embden, better knownlo‘ .
Elie citizens of Biddeford as "‘Daddy",-f
m on. a v , v ’
The .m'ansiop was a , great, overgrown ,struce
ture With hug? Grecian columns infront, which,  '
gave the b ding more the appearance'lti“.
meeting-house than a private dwelling. .,  j 3,,

The grounds surrounding ﬁrehouse were aloe :'
berater laid out. A, tremendous eﬂort hadbeen
made for st lo. ' Meney, rather, than taste, Was
plainly-evi out both in the mansion and its nun ,
round rigs. It was as if the owner of the estate, ' ‘
had tried to build a house which- shomd im1~nrr:-s_ ‘. 

Oil: with themes. of great wealth at the ﬁrst
3 nee. , ., l , 1'   J
In the sittiu -room of the house which 
mame wished, sat Peieg]  ,
Delia,th ghter, his only child; ' 1- ' ‘  "
was burning ‘in a 

 
light  '

‘ I.)

“WWI”, ,7

  
_‘ K

.‘ r

'.)«

i". " Belia Embdeh wash little, slender _
V .. and twenty, 'With a face rather shrewish in its,

'  nose too large.

    
g .

y .
I

   
s t

 
.h ,

girl of two

\

ression; asmall; delicate is so, not handsome

‘ m‘yetnot plain, for there was a bright, win—

‘ning look in'the small gray eyes and a rare
charm about 'the dainty, thin-lipped mouth. The

in whitish yellow hair, too, which was so neatly

' and deftly braided and coiled around the shape-
. 1y little head was eta-e ngely pretty; it matched
to well with the whi skin, so wondrous in its

. pearly purity.

‘ The girl would have been lovely but that her
face was too thin, her eyes too small, and her

But she was pretty in spite of thesedefects.
A nimble-ﬁngered, : activa; “smart,” bright

‘ New England girl.

She took ,the' whole charge of heriather’s

‘ I r househOld, and many "a "wise old villa e gossip

' r

.u
..

 
 aked.£ace, sharp
I , eatures.

. in a decent suit of clothes.

' predicted that Delia Embden would-Em e a. real

.. - tamart wife for somebody.

‘ '77Peleg Embden sat
, , y out into the darkne of the night. He
' ass little. withered, dried-up old man, with a

by the window, gazing va—

5!.

. , rat-like eyes, and a
nera ex ression of shrewd cunning upon his
_ v e‘ was very poorly dressed. Bidde-
V Vford folks said that “Daddy Embden was lost

Embden’srise to wealth had been a sudden

Vépne; and how or where he made his mbney was

I.»

., a. in to all. He had been the captain of a
. little coasting schooner which traded in “truck”
and “garden-sass,” all along the coast from

' to Bostcm His home was in Bidde-

r  ford, and there his wife and daughter lived
 wlnlqhe was away. His wife, a careful, hard-
. working woman, took in sewin

. and thus aided
'mkeepmg the heme comforta’o e.

‘ ,V . For years “ Skipper ” Embden had sailed the

9K

’ x ,lii‘s wife—u \

1‘ the tiller.
' ' , .ers‘ along. 1;

_,  and her ov'Vner had'found a grave
I. whillows of the Atlantic.

Nancy Jane—so t e schooner was named, after
and down the coast, but in the
 1864 wife died, and after her funeral

Embden and his schooner sailed out of Saco

I;  112001;. and the places that once knew them knew

them no more.

"iAyear passed awa , and durln allthattime '
.V the. white sails of t e Nancgc1e

one, and the
11 standing by
dwel -

u smack.”
heath the

‘ . But one bri ht mornin in the month of June,
Embden

U P18fi5 just at t e close of t e war, Peleg
 his appearance in the streets of Bidde-
0 . ,

v withered form of Skipper Em
ﬁladdened not the .eyes of the
e rocky New England coast.
Men predicted that the’ coastin

   many anxious inquiries astowhere he
 hai booster-the '

Exist year, he simply replied,

.1 ‘~‘,, “f money.” ttle satisfaction he gave to
‘ the, estloners. , ‘

 A do. softer Einbden’s return the oai

people .01 iddeford ade 0. discove w ich

\. /,

   
TI;  them to fopen

‘.\

_ mate with Embden yéntur

u  men
‘ Dar whispers went, round of bIOCk d -
ding between a “u”

, ~ ‘ tting that the aforesaid smac ,wasao‘nly some
 I, W V q and that a dosen fair—sized men
‘ would have found difﬁcult

X;  aboard of er. _

2‘<  » But one thing was certain :, the Peleg Emhden
. . who‘came back to Biddeford was quite a differ:

sir e es in won' er.
Embden owned ahou

  
 worth of stgck in .tbe Biddeicrd mills;
“the ski per of the Nanc Jane, 9. year

  ' hadn’t eon Worth lift tousand cents,

 question was aske : “How did Pe»
-“ ,2 15% make his money?”
 recon, became evident that Embden was

‘ ' wealthy man. He bought a site on the
  and erected a s endid house thereon,
 , graced: for everyth 
f ,_ p v, . or the village goss swho had been inti-
,  . to ask him how he
_ made his mone

, . 3’-
lied, with a knowing wink, but
sudden rise to was th he kept

.’ ‘ .  his reservation did not become a man who
, h ‘mnde his money by honest speculation—at

xx .

.j ,_ least, so thought the gr'eater art of the Bidde-

Viord folks, and there were no wanting tongues
‘to aﬂirm that Peleg Embden never made his
honestly.

the Virginia capes—of the Nancy
rcussion-caps, and

, Jana carrying mediums
 L  ligh articles-contra and of wary—to the

n forces.

. 31:, and

Em en as the desperate. an bloody-
ed commanderof a gen of pirates, for-
tons,
in procuring decent

 man from the
£1th had left

,-

it huts year use. '

   
,.
. 7,

t ﬁfty thousand

 Em

, A I And-whispers again told of i

 murder on the high seas, and pictured the Nan- mebbe he’ll come for i , who
; 1. «gelJane 1! mg the black ﬂag trom her
‘ v 7 e

’ wa  , -
v be intoxication (if mSSlon ' was still upon _
atolung like .a charm . 5

skipper of the. Nancy Jane, ,
/

'1/‘Y   L » _.

,\"

 
!

’h cheerful word for every one' now,“he was re—

served and moody. .He seeme suspicious of all, ;
started at the slightest noise like a criminal ﬂeet-l ,

ing from justice. , .

An unhappy, desolate, speechless man was the
Yankee skipper. _ ‘-

And now as he sat glaring out of the window
into the darkness of the night, he seemed
strangely agitated. ' -

Delia sewing by the center-table heard her
father muttering, and rising in alarm, ap-
proached him quickly, anxious to discover What

\ teatime“ liim' ' hair 1 * t d th
a ma owe -c acmg owar 6
window, Embden’,%h a face distorted with‘
pain, was looking out of the casement.
Delia leoked iii vain for the object which was

mantle which covered in the earth—and
through the darkness gleamed, like a golden
star, 9. single light, coming evidently from some
lamp placed near a window of one of the houses
down in the hollow. .

Leaning on the back of her father’s chair, she
listened to his murmured words.

“’The tide turns at nine, Jethro. why don’t
he come? The light is ﬁxed all ght; every-
thing is safe and—a false beacon-light which
leads the vessel on the rocks!” With a. h of
plain Embden threw his head back agams the
c air. v

“What’s the matter, father? Are cu ill!”
the girl asked, kneelingby his side, an looking
up into his face. , I

vacantly, and

“ Ah Delia,” he muttemd1
a ' fixing hiseyes upon the g oom before him.
‘ here’s the signal.” v

“.The si 1 said the girl, in wonder.

2‘ Yes; on’tyou see it ’

‘ o. ‘ .

‘l The light there?” and with a shaking ﬁnger
the old man pointed out into the gloom. ,

“Oh, gas, I see that; it’s in some cottage
window.

“No, no, no!” cried the old man, hastily; “it’s
on the point. There goes the Signal now—he’s
waving it round his head three times. Don’t
you see it move? Now, Jethro answer it. Vail
our light once, then again—that’s twice, and
that means all right.” '

Vainly belie. looked into the darkness the
light moved not; she saw that her father’s
.mind was wandering. ‘

“ I can not that the light has moved atoll,
father,” she sai , gently. .

“ Your e as are not as keen as mine; you’ve
not from Cape God to the Penth
twenty years as I have. There’s the 5; ml again!
Answer it, Jethro l” he said, mfev anxiety,
‘ his eyes glaring. The girl had never seen her
father 'sostranfly affected before.

“He’s there, ut where are they?” he ques.
' tioned, his eyes still ﬁxed upon the limmermg

 
was cenvulsed with emotion in eve

knows nowhis danger. Hear theta otl Th

f’ on himl U’B

,’ our fault. on’t h’ist a sail—let her drift down
, the river! Oh! Heavori have mercy on his soul!”
I Exhausted the old man sunk» back in his chair
/and closed his eyes wearily. . .

i “ Wh , t  how strangely you talk!” the

; girls): ' '

g sick. H

’ of teal Do come away i from the win

3 With gentle force she raised the old man from
the easy-chair and supported him to her seat by
the center-table. "A

! “ Delis, I’vebeen talkin’ strangely, liain’t I?”

_ on said, suddenly. .

i “u es; butyo'u are not well, father,” she said,
. en .

f g “ lies, a leetle sick,” he said, slowly. “Delia,
dear, eighty-one thousand dollars is a heap of

mucus ,’ he spokereﬂectively.

I 1“ es, it is, father.” ‘ ' .

. “ Kin ou reckon what the interest on-it is for
a year a six per cent?”  . ’

i ‘ Yes, father.” '

“ Cipher it out, Delie- it’s pa able on demand;

ows?” Closing
his eyes wearil ', Peleg Embden dozed oil? to

. sleep, while. De in. set and-wondered who the

1 person could be to Whom her father owed eighty~

lone thousand dollars. , r 

CHAPTER VI.
1 STRAIGHT FROM THE sHOULDEnw
AJ'I'EB leaving, the cottage Sinclair Paxton
slowly (down thastreetl
31111145

\

the salt nerfmne t

r

       
J

H ht. “There goesthe rocketl”andt eoldman !
g limb. “He 0

ey’re
with the anchor, Jethro! ’Tisn’t ‘

 
.fortohaveyoutanhim good
’makea

' ‘3 it is allim 'on. You must, '
adii’t Ibetter Manama cup
ow.

11708800.

ask such a question?”

~ time. ” 4 -

'old rum than
Week. He heered that the young lady was out.

.with thoughts of

l'  39“” he had been a freesPOkéﬁ'  W“ t 3%.?" person otheyoun, ‘ s m. seem. a: still 79—h“? ' ' '

Like one In a. maze he walked Onward. Cool,
clear-headed Sinclair was strangely   .
“Doesshe love me?” he murmur ; “she is

such a strange girl that it is difﬁcult to tell. She V'
Would not let ‘me go to-night when she thought. " '

\

that I was pained by her coolness. " She gave her-
self_ u freely to mmmbrace, althou rh sho'
dem me her 11' ' e alone must so vs the
mystery.  won or what my father, the deacon.
would say if he knew how deep] I am interested,
in this girl, really a stranger 0g whom I know
nothing? He lhear of it some day, and then

there will be trouble. It seemsto be my fate to «

annoy him.” . »
“ Hello, Sin, is that you?” cried a well-lmoWn
voice, and Jerry Gardner advanced through

agitating the old man so strangely. She saw  the darkne' '

,' ' ’
only the great, gloomy v» all of darkness—night s ; answered. .

“Yes; taking a walk, Jerry?” the young man,

“ Wa-al, a leetle of that an’ a leetle of some- .
thin’ else ” Jerry answered, slowly. , “ Sam-I
Sin, whic is our best ‘holt,’running oi- ﬁght. _
in’?” Jerry as ed, suddenly. ‘ _ _

Sinclair was astonished at the question. '

“ I reallydon’t know,” he said; “ why do yo“,

“ ’Cos there’s trouble ahead.

Jed Hollis?” ,. DO you know

“ The carpenter? I know him; what of it?” ‘ i

“ I 8 you know he’s kinder swoet arter a
:5??? young lady that works down in your

es,
Sinclair said, quietly.

“ Wa-al, Sm, I hope you won’t think that I’m
pokhg’ It!) nose into business that don’t oonsam
me u
5 its of  now .likes somebody else as we

, den: ed  noghztdgrnsid sight batter,
an o urse i 3 na 9 t a ' '
’round 7bout it like 0 go rm

6‘

“ Very natural,” Paxton sai
“ An’ nat’ral, too, that he
to do all sorts of things.”
“Yes; but if I know an hing of Mr. H llis,
go’s, likely to says. great cal more than e’lu'
o

“ Right, there, by hokeyl" Jerry exclaimed,
emphaticalg. “But, Sin, he’s as ugly as Satan
to-night. e’s been gittingoutside of more good
you could shake a stickyat in a ,

(1

walking with a chap about  size to-night,
and he s been swearm’ ﬁt to ' t the shingles off
a. roof ever since. Now he’s jist drunkenougli "

to make a break for you, Sin; in fact, I think, --

the pesky cuss is layin’ in wait for you some—-
where; so jist keep yonr egreskound. Jist take»
a fool’s advice an’ don t le
to youin the dark.” .

‘ I am much obliged Jerry, for our warning,
but I trust that he  have be r sense than.
to provoke an encounter with me,” Paxton said“
in is usually quiet why. ' '

“ He’s cavortin’ ’round wuss than a'ya'ller do r I i it

with a tin tied to‘his tail,” Jerry said wit ,
a h. “glimmer thinks that-he owhs all,

Bi deford,'you know. He’s the bully obthese  “

Sin, I’d give a hull quarter ,0! a dollar
, once ° might.

, tty decent feller out of him!” I

I “ I 3 try to protect myself,” Paxton replied,

not a tin of boasting in his “tone or manner,

but tlligslfght that shone in his 9 es and a certain. '

corn on of the i“ told of  .

thunder,” and wi the parting Warning Jerry
went on his wa . ‘ . .
Paxton p' slowl onward, his mind busy

L
on the question, WWY as he loved . _
The young man went through the village and
descehded to the bridge which led over the river
The Paxton residence was on the other
side of the river in the old town. .
Just as Sinclair came,.-to the middle of the

; bridge, the moon which had hitherto been con-

   
cealed behind a dark bank of clouds, came forth, .
and lighted up the night with her alive rays. v
Some twen beyond him, 19:31:13 on
(die .parapet o t 6 bridge, Paxton behgl the

dark ﬁgure ofaman. r» I " -
He recognized him at once. It was the car-
penter Jediel Hollis. ’ ' ‘

With a. steady step,“ as if unconscious 0! dan—  

r, Paxton went on.“ Hollis never  until?
inclair was within six feet of him, then sud-W
denly he raised from his 1 ng position, and:
 himself in
mad he path.

I l

      
\.‘ . .'4_‘V

I have heard a rumor to that erect," ‘

have heard that the young lad I .
ll’as

d, 1 n '
shoulﬂhyreaten for! '

any one git too close -'

a-al‘. good-mg t, sm~ don’t let him get 
the furst crack atﬂyou, for t ' cuss can hit like, ' 

. Vainfl'y he pondered). ‘ 

mm

the ‘ narrow "passageway, f; _

   
,
i

v
3

a‘ bob-tailed horse in ﬂy— _ 

l

l

l

a.

.

l
H:

1
7|


[a
'l
i

 
‘4 ‘3

 
 Paxton halted' hasme hema-

 havetrbdden Hollis nude oot.‘ ' r .

3    Themoonh‘ght shining own.qu upon theface

l of the young carpenter, plain] revealed that
he was under the inﬂuence 0 1i nor. There
-.wasfan ugly look upon his face whic boded mis—

“ dood—evenin’,” he said, in‘solently.
,‘ . “Good—evening
w ughnoﬁce Whatever of the insolent manner of the
' ,  91': A . ‘
. = . “ Fine, evemn’, ain’t it?” Hollis exolaimed.
u Yes.” ’
- 1 “"Nice trig-git to go an’ see a gal, ain’t it, eh?”
 z, , demanded ollis, anger sparklin in his eyes:
‘ u’s brows contracted slig tly, and 'w1th

 , his eyes he measured the drunken carpenter from

head to foot, but replied not.
“ How was she, anyway?

 
Did you kiss her

,, . when .you left?”
N “Are You drunk or mad?” asked Paxton, in
contem .
“ Both 1” responded Hollis, ﬁercely. “ Oh, you

0311715 Put, on an y airs With me. I know I’m only
/a carpenter, an you’re one of the big-bugs, but
just now we’re both on us only two men, an’ one
Of 118 is agoin’ to get thrashed like blazes soon, if
not sooner. 'Sojust peel off your coat an’ we’ll
‘go at it,” and the carpenter commenced, to take
, V  oﬂ? his coat. ’ -
a ' Paxton asked, coolly.  I

 ' Hollis stopped wit his coat half off, and glare

at Sinclair for a moment. . -‘
“ Whatelse should I wait here for you for?”
he cried. “We, can have a fair shake here.
 bridge you, don’t go until you ﬁght

me. ~
‘“ Why should} ﬁght you? Because you have
* drank so much liquor as to upset the few brains
. that on do possess and must quarrel with some
, one? Paxton asked contemptuously.
v 5 Off came Hollis’s coat; the rage of the carpen-
. tor was so great that it seemed to almost make
. him sober - '

. .1 _ , ,f‘I’mamatch for you, drunk or sober!” he
4 mod. .“You’ve'won my 'rl awa from me,
’ Built ,v » ain’t anneal: youll ﬁght or her.”
_. .. 1  the ladyever tell you that she cared
V_ r v anything toryoul” Paxton asked.
' g   “What’sthattoyoui”,
.  accuse moot taking her away from
you; now, it you never possessed her love, I
‘. cogldn’t well rob you of it,” Sinclair answered.
. 0h, curse your arguing!” Hollis cried, “I
k. can ﬁght better!” and springing forward he
_,unneda desperate blow at Paxton’s ‘tace, but
I, Paxton slowly stepped backand with his 0 .n
,, ' , palm pended the blow and threw it to one 8 do.
I M31313, four blows the enraged carpenter
made _ " Io themfalhn-‘ gontheem 't ' .
, ,.V»o£‘preath,  was tam topause.p 5" w ' out
I . ,_ You contemptible drunken brute; I’ve half
. staged to give you a lesson!” Paxton said,
, , _,“ .ougive mes. lesson!” howledHollis tran-
\ g \ tic wrthyou “Just you stand still and let me
a- . m
g I  The carpenter made another desperate rush
,. g  ‘: ﬂ Paxton£1 Thlick amtihfasth tell his blows.
  7,31,, _ _ an easiy, as oug in'the. arr-in
 r.  Paxton turned them aside, untimt last?
V. yr --‘ ,~  , he drew back his right arm an
 w , the sWIftness of the li htning.
h. , , Wtitgr on this neck 3: H0 is, just
' “a”? V , , 11 sent mrsiuni'
ﬁn“ Egg“ 7 i then dishing in, Paxtotpi so
I ﬂ _ “mi  eve-(11~ still: hgar-spa;
r M an n .
. V“ I’ve he i a mind to let youspgropl" heroics,

.i

' I

‘f‘

 
:  VB.
7 r  was} gigging.” gLamOOD‘hdd h
"   ' u .tenow
 w . » mheredp carpenter over the a” .
“ 3 J  r “Hedge  beneath the{initiaters that

 
,  '11de spam tottheb- ' '
 i  hands and attempte to pull maxim?

r,’ swung imo 111 amp S~ C6. '

 I ‘   him there as though he wegbutagﬁgi

315M _ﬁe§g gm he had taken 11 n himself when he
,. ,- mmmadeuphis mind tot rash'Sinclair Pax-

“- 1’" halt a mind to let you drop,” Sinclair
‘ a frown contracting his brows: ' '

 “ Drop 910 and be hanged!” growled Hollis,

’ h“ ' Y5 “I ain’t a-going to cry. quite yet.”

‘ u . «27011 not satisﬁed?” demanded Paxton.

RY“ here than

i *0, staid a! q”

    
, sir.” replied Paxton, taking

' x “You intend to fasten aquarrel on me, then?’ .

V Hollis for the ﬁrst time realised how.

5' M‘meith . eti”criedthec n~»
,m rouxmlmarpe

   
,  it, and now I’d let go and drop you

into «the stream, but that Ism not certain as to
what is underneath. If I was sure that. it was
water and not sledge of rocks, down you should
go, for I think, that a cold bath would do you
goléitcilti arid perhaps chill your angry passions a
a e. '

growled the carpenter, s lenly. .
-“ No, I do not seek your life, nor do I care to
have you lay a broken limb at my door- so just
've me (your romise that the aﬁfair s all end
ere, an I wi 1 land you on the bridge again,”
~ Paxton said, calmly. , ‘

-“I’ll see on in lazes ﬁrst!” cried Hollis, in
anger. “ 0 what you like, but blood can only
on this thin between us now!”

. “ You idio I” cried Paxton, suddenly, for the
ﬁrst time betraying traces of anger, and with a
swing of his powerful arm he landed Hollis on
the bridge, then threw him from him, releasing
his grip on his collar. -
The carpenter reeled and tell heavily to the
ﬂoor of the bridge. .
v Paxton clenched his ﬁsts together, and with
mangry frown upon his face waited for Hollis

to nse. I
’ Slowly, the carpenter rose to his feet, but he

evinced no di tion to advance to the attack.
He seemed ' e one dared bya sudden shock.
With an e ression of astonishment upon his
face, he fol of his neck where a lump had
arisen the mark of Sinclair Paxton’s white
knuc es.

“Come, I am waiting,” Paxton said, impa—
tiently.

Hollis did not reply but stooped and picked
up his coat and proceeded to put it on.

Paxton’s lip curled in scorn, and a glint of ﬁre
came fromhis e es.

_ “ You are satisﬁed, then?” he asked.

“ For the present yes,” Hollis re lied, sullen-
ly, “but a tune wi 1* come when ’11 get even
With u for this night’s work.” And with this

.threa , darkly delivered, Hollis strode away.

the darkness beyond the bridge: a loo of utter
contemgt was 11 n the face of the victor.
. “A ully an as usual,'a coward,” he said,
uietl . ‘ i must be on my guard against him,
is long . ,He means mischief. He will not be
apt to measure open strength with me again;
now I must look out for low cunning.” , '

With a conﬁdent smile upon his handsome face
he walked slowly. on; ' . '1 ,

As he left the brid and came into the
gloomy shade of the bu: dings beyond, he cast a
quick and earnest I‘Igolance around im. He fully
ex to see llis’s form lurking in some
dark corner, but he, was disappointed; the car—
penter had disappeared. m

Paxton proceeded direct] up the hill and
through. the village to his ome, which was a
stately old-fashioned white‘house situated on
the main street of Saco. For a hundred years
or more the Paxtons had lived ‘there' few New
England families could trace further back than

ey. A
In his room, which fronted on the street. Pax-
ton removed his coat, lit a cigar, and sat down
by the window. . ‘

As he oozed out upon the moonlit street, the
mo! night breeze} rash from old ocean, and
,l‘axlen with the balm of the sea-weed and the
salt spna , sighed and sung with a low and
 cadence through the leafy branches

‘One face alone appeared before him; forgotten
now wasthe assault- ‘on the bridge' he thou ht
only of the dainty maiden, he mill-girl, Ly La

Grams. ‘ - .

S was the r which her fascinations
exerc' over the cart of Sinclair Paxton -. at
no boy was he, but a man well tried in l e’s

ﬁery furnace; one who had loved and lost.
Was it fated now that, he should love and lose

in? ,

had not noticed Hollis although he
had looked for him after leaving the bridge,
et the ntcr was concealed in a dark Corner

gust beyon the structure.
“ Quietly and without moving hand or foot,
\he watched Paxton until he disap ed 1n the
gloom as he ascended the hill. Then, Hollis

' came from his hiding-place and stood in the

street. . ~
The oonlight shone down full upon him. He
seemed like aman in a dream; Evory now and

and then look u the hill as thou 11 he expec
‘ - the tall‘ ‘

to see u of Sine returnin ‘
‘thﬁougli theglooliim " '  g

    
ght .thfs upon yourself. I

With you but rout ill-‘1'??th his

Oh, blazesl”"he mttgi‘ilielrémsuddenlysawdken-

    
then, he wouldfeel of the lump on his ne‘cé.

‘ “I don’t care whether on drop me or not!” ‘

little hill on the Biddeford

 
l

i that could befall

l

:treatedhim

beenkickedsby‘a horse? Ho’s more than a, ,;
glared sullenly around him. Themhcxtumed' ~
and walk '

match for me, curse himi” and the 0

ed rapidly across the bridge. He,

paused in its center and looked down into the ‘

darkness underneath. The ripple and Splash oi

the river rolling below, hastening onwardrto its ,  ‘. ’

grave, the sea, came to his ears.
» “ I’ve half a mind to jum ‘
savagely. “There’s forgetfu ness down there:
This girl has made me mad. I can almost curse
the hour when. I _
Paxton, too; if I could only haVegiven him a
welting, I should have felt better.‘ He’s 01; the

- ~

4 _ l 
over!” he cried,‘».:f

9»

ﬁrst saw her. This blamed ,-

    
- \

 
trainin of a. rice-ﬁghter. What afoul am!” , 

he crie sud only. “I forgot that he’s been a

sailor; it’s only natural that he should know, “,5

how to use his ﬁsts.”

Hollis proceeded onward again with rapid .r

I ,-’..

strides. As he left the bridge and seconded the

side, a thought sud-u
denly came to him. ” “   
“I’ll go and see ,
his nervous, impulsive ’way. “ I’ll ask her .
out plain to have me, and if she ref
He paused on the word; a ﬂood

n 1 ' ’
i thought":
rushed through his mind. " 

V in, .
Lydia at oncef” he a '    5

To be refused b Lydia was the heaviest blow;r   fig‘ '

'm, and et as he thought the,
matter over, he could no remember a single

action of the girl which should give him hopeot ‘i '
3 a favorable answer to his suit. She had al , ‘

111% more.

men in love who are not blinded by their 1385‘.

51011. ' . , ,
i “ I’ll do it, anyway i” he muttered, as holies-

Paxton watched himJuntil he disap cared in '

 
or the giant elms which adorned the roadside. :

       
,  neek’i’eels 

‘He could plainly hear the.

tened onward. “She can but say ‘no;’ and if”,

she does, why, that will end the matter,  I’ll 

forget her.”

Wise resolution, yet ,
had ‘uttered a falsehood ere the wordshad left .
his lips. . ' " ' ‘

He walked rapidly onward until he 
the street where ydia’s residence was situated.
.As he turned the corner,  slackened'

't th d gamstln he. '0fhkhw}
as 1 umpe a an » y .
With slow and faltering steps,» strange con— ,1
trast to his former reckless rate of , he ' ' l .
proached the little cottage which v ldwi y j;
its humble walls the prettiest girl in  

town. . , , i“ V f . _ . V
d A gleam of lightcan‘le ,Irom the 
ows. . ~ \ v I » ,
Hollis hal leaned upon he icket ! ' 
and looked inward the house.» He  g
distinguish a ﬁgure within the. parlor, seated! ,in g.

y

the rocking-chair near the wmdow. '& single p
 n6

glance and he recognized the woman for
his heart craved. And then hiscourage 
him. He feared toenter the house, ‘ a .  
The girl was sitting quite close toast;
window, a parently m a deep study, for her a
headrests upon her hand and her ‘ 'were
ﬁxedu theﬁoorindreaniyj  'v '
For nil ﬁve minutes Hollis renamedmtionc 1
less, leanin upon the fence, looking with-all 
eyesinhis eadu utheglrl.  3.; 
“What a on 1001 I sm,”_hemutteted, is“
resolute] . “Five minutes’couversation with?
her and shall know’my fate. Well, Ivcanatake
my gruel like a man, anyway. ‘Butrit’shere.

inseame it will bashed-hues she cares this ﬁrm
confounded Paxton. Chi.” and 'he . ' sxﬁ

teeth ether-ﬂared “itwillben 
“’3 {hum-rm afraid.”  

before I get uare w1 git
Lydia lif up her head suddenly and looﬁed’;

through the wmdow; she saw them leaping ,

on the fence watching her, and rose «fin.

alarm. ' . .
:With'abrupt resolution, Hollis  
~ate and entered the gardem Come what may.~:
he would 1earn,his ate before he 
night. 1 ' i , ~~ f, .. ,
CHAPTER VIII. . _ , ,1;
TEE QUESTION AND ‘mswm 
Home walked straight forward to the
’twas only twenty steps or so. '

 
ogmzed him before A _ '
gate behind 11' "  She remained  w
the window. _ quiet face was .a blank; 
ther pleasure nor annoyance at the-approach of
the oung carpenter could he read therein. -»  
“Eoodmenj , u iss' L any Hollis said, def-'-
ﬂng hishat  a A foot at them
which led into the house. "31330165 _ g _. as;
he uttered the mail; salutatiou  
came "and went in ‘, thaws; miss " .
thanked» the friendlynight ., _ V . gamete ct

 his      ,.

 
3. . a.

his heart mm him thathe ’

kindly, yet, only as a friend,  

ut drowning men will clutch at straws;   , 

,
as .,

        
,  'if,Good#evening;\l"lr   in her; quiet,
gentleway. v w w - - , s-

I

  
 mind that "she had not asked him _to come into
 the house, and therefore his vmt was unwel-
.. come. ,sTho augury he drew was an owl one,

  
~ state of desperation that, even with the feeling
\ that his suit would be rejected, «he made bold to
j pressgith ‘ . ‘ . I , V
i . “Do you. want a water this evening?” he
readied, endeavoring to put the question lightly
and trying to: force a smile upon his solemn
(fuse, ' V , .. , v ‘

, “I' am met in a very entertaining mood to-
' , night, I fear,” Lydia replied, speakingonly the
., ,sim 1e truth. _ '
‘ T ére are none soblmd

 
the caipenter pushed onward.

, era 0. , i .
Miss Grame to b(:unenterta1ningis,Iam

 ‘v For

sdr «fan impossibility,” he said. courageously;
bﬁi f daring ,

smﬂéeiilcads the Forlorn Hope into the trench

yank

' courage of the condemned criminal advancing

re the rl-gallo‘ws.

' heart beat so'loud that he felt sure the sound

mustrcach heroars.‘ ‘ '

: But L. dia‘ never no

0
once” to Jediol Hollis, the carpenter. Daisy
Brick and Sinclair Paxton—strange contrastl-a-
were the two men most in her mind. .
“I ought to thank youfcr the compliment,”
she said, absently, “buth am so dull to-m'ght
that I am sadly afraid I shall l’make Very poor
‘3er ot’it.” ‘-  r
. “Has an. thing happened to annoy you?”
life askc anxiously. ,  “ .
p 7“ 011, not: the girl answered, quickly;I you
mustmotthmk that. A woman, you ow, is
on unreasoning creature, and is prxvﬂeged to be
dullsometimes without reasons. ’ r
\‘ l‘I’ll’come in and sit down for a few minutes;
perhaps‘llcan cheer you n ,” Hollis said, won-
‘rierin
a" ‘. 7 But he jadvanced into the porch, and
tarou h theentry-way into the parlor; his face,
the ' ‘ was white and , his heart beat against
his  with a sledge-hammer thud. .
Has-placed hishat upon the center-table and

H

2.

had resumedher former seat, from whence she
had arisen when her eyes had caught Sight of
Hollis leaning ume the fence.

“.With an curious t‘;c carpenter looked
ittothetace or the girl, lie saw nothing there|
to aﬂord him hope.

After Hollis had sat down, there wasan awk-
#  The 'dc rateglow-r know What
he'vmntcd to say, but. new not how to say it.
Jenni-yea broke the ice, so-to term it. ,

15"“ Have'you been out this evening!” he asked.
1' Yes,” she replied, - :

.. Hollis was'well aware of the-fact when: he
When. Hefhad Srinagar: . (g) tbs
rump ‘ mourning romte c an
 citbumstance which had heated his

" '  him to lay in wait for his

a.

 
’ ill at a, loss for words.
“Your 8119 again replied. '

flier Tanswer did not aid him in the least. 1
Again there was a long and awkward silence;

other some little 'me now,” he said.

v i " '1' opened ‘her eyes in astonishment; she
" understand this strange be ‘nning. ‘ .
p  ve something vengapartic ar to say to
on. Lydia-and I trust 1: t you will net be of-
tendejdby my words ” he continued, earnestly.
V  quickear. of t e girl noted the change in
the tone of, the speaker; she saw too, the crim-
ao *’ blood mounting'into his cheeks and the ﬁery
"the of~ ' assion in his eyes. It was the ﬁrst
gimehegad ever -addressed her familiarly as
b8 “.11,

 
guessed now,what was coming;

but; knew not how: " was on her

 the attack and confuse her adversary
To Wlant’“parade.” , . n ;

' ‘ h “I am sure that so good a friend eand,
' a  strong emphasis upon the
asyo “ ve bee'nttome will never say

, «thatcanpossibly oﬂe d.) By-the way;
 v: ‘ ._ “Maxim gain to, , a picnic lieu
 :I'suppose- it‘ will a. very enjoyable

e; 3'; {hone to ibeeablexto so”, stopover

hf rt

 
~ i’I‘liethought hasth instantly through Hollis’s ‘

but still he had worked himself up into such a. r

l
as those who will not i
 see... Again the omens were evﬂ, but reckless, ‘

was not of the kind that, with a. p
by the musket-balls; it was rather the.

His voice trembled and his 1

. r l i
ticed his agitation in the f
e thoughts in her mind had, small refer- i,

too, athis own bolr ess as he made the .1 f

not down in a chair close to the window. Lydia. fr

‘2‘}t'has becnyery warm May,” he observed, 

them; withdo‘s'peratc resolution, Hollis deter- I
  what he had come expressly to '

,‘OMiss Lydia," on and I have known each‘

 would she have stopped him in his-
though, and, like a skillful fencer, sought. -

  
‘ give  time. to 
. strangely unusual way or
you to tell me the time?”
With nervous . ﬁngers,
watch.
“Just ten,” he said.’ ‘ . '
“So late l” sheexclaimed, in accents of sur“
prise. “ It is time for me to think of retiring—'
early to bed .and early to rise, you know,” and
Lydia rOSe from her seat; there was something
feverish, unreal, in her manner.
passion-blinded eyes noticed it.
“I must 'bid you good-night,”-she continued,
going to the door.
“ Stay,
‘ feet, his cheeks red as ﬁre, and the hot blood
‘ surging in his veins. “I must speak. a few
words with yen before we part, to-night.”
Alon drawn breath came ,from between the
‘ girl’s re lips, and then she shut them tightly
together. ‘ t
“ VVon’t to-morrow do?” she said, and there
was a. pleading, pitiful tone to her voice, a 100k
wof anguish in her dark eyes, not unlike that
. which shines in the orbs of the wounded deer as
i he tumbles to his knees in the forest glade and
hears the knell of doom in the buying of the
dogs and the ringing notes of the hunter’s her:
behind him. v
“No, no, to-ni ht!” he cried, impetuously, ad
vuncing toward her. 1
Again the long-drawn breath came from be
tween the scarlet 1i , and the heart in her bo-
som gave a rent t rob of pain. ‘
“Lydia, love you I” he cried, assionately.
“No, no do not say that!” ﬁle exclaimed
and extended her hands as though she fear

“ But it isthe truth!” he replied quickly and
with nervous energg; “ I feel that I cannot
live without you. leeping
face is always before me. I cannot tell whether
you care anything for me or not, but I care for

cu, and I must tell you of it. I cannot' keep
he secret any longer. N ow you know the
truth, and you hold in your hands all my future
1 e

 
her. “ Can I trmil‘ile
Hollis opened

 
Earnestly and passionately he pleaded his
cause. Love,,that before had tied his tongue.
and made him dull and stupid,‘,now gave him
command of a torrent of Words. -

“Mr. Hollis, I will not attem t to deceive
you nor do I wish you to misun erstand me,”
: Lydia,
< apparent, in her manner. “I will frankly con-
! fess that I guessed what you wished to. say and
2 tried to keep you‘from saying it; but, since you
' havespoken, I must'answer you. A love ike
yours a woman should not triﬂe with fora sin-

le instant.
5 riendto me, and I have tried m best to-night
to avoid givingyou pain; but, smce you com-
, Delano, to speak, I cannot say aught but the,
tru 1. "
l “ Yen..do not love me!” cried Hollis, desper-

 
; atelyf ’ . -
g ' “' o, I .do not,” the girl answered,- ﬁrmly.
i “ You cannot guess how much pain it gives me
i to speak this way, but I cannot say anything
‘ else. You have forced me to speak the truth,
and it is not my’fault if it is amfu .,”
f‘ It is your fault, though, t at you have made
me love you i” exclaimed Hollis, .rcproachfully.
“ Now, younre unjust!” the M said, slow y,
5 cut to the very quick: “you ave no cause to
say that.- I have never treated you except
a friend. My lover you never, have been with
my knowled e.” a . ,
“ You mi ' t have-s ken before,” Hollis said,
sullenly mg his el w on the back of s chair,
andhis head on his hand. . . ,
“ Spoken before?” exclaimed L d in amaw
ment; ‘.‘ how. could I? How couldyl to 1 that you
cared anything for me?” ' _ ’ '
“Why I have been mying you attentions.
i ever slpcb you came to Biddetord,” Hollis said,
‘ gloomi y. ’ ’

“ You have been very kind to me, indeed,”

z the 'rl answered, quickly “and I thank you

E fori vcr r‘much. I tmst‘t t I‘em fully grate-

; ful fpra the little favors that you have done

1 me.’ ‘ - .

“I donzt want‘your gratitude; I want your
love!” Hollis exclaimed. _ _ . ,

l “And that I cannot give y A,” the girl said,
slowly and sadly. ‘: ,

I. “And whyrnotl” he (mended, an ' . .

3 “‘ You have no right to ask me the question,”

1 she answered, quickly.

1

l
,.
t
e
»
l

L 

I

 
pi.

v ’ ‘  ,,;sMAmAN~   r
:i' - Remus raisedtis, “(wowed the girl” him'thm 0'

y

/\

.l i

3 full in the face: 'a .

 
Even Hollis’s j

Lydia!” cried Hollis, springing to his 3

or waking; youn

said, her fac‘e ‘white and strange restraint P

You" have always acted like a. l

as

x 7:“ 

I’ swam you'eoula give ‘me‘h 330“; n
W
. ba abouts“, begaid9 using the, mlky me (,1.

an overgrown ‘ school-boy detected in some,

5‘ breakage of, the master’s rules. ,

‘ “; Why ask a w0man for reasons?” the girl exs
claimed, in bitter contempt.
lived who thought that a. woman could reason?
That is one of the proud prerogatives of your
sex, not of mine.”

“Have not spoken painful words enou 11, al.—
‘: ready?” Lydiahsked, impatiently. “W t if
i there'ls something about you that I do not like?
Is there any need that I should still further af-
frontyou by telling you of it? You have asked‘h
‘ quest’mn and received an answar; why not stop
now, ,

“Because I want to be satisﬁed,” he said,
half-angrily. f‘I know that you’ve got some
reason for actln this way, and I want to ﬁnd
out what it is. on have always acted as if
you did care something for me.” i .

“So I do as a friend,” answered the girl,
quickly. “ Can not you
man can like a man and yet notclove’ him well
enough to marry him? A woman has many,
likings in her life, but she seldom loves but
once.”

“What a strange
claimed, in wonder:
master.” . ‘ ,
. “The greatrworld has been gig
and want and suffering are h '

«FM

r1 you are!” Hollis ex,

school-mom,
masters; . the

' lessons they teach are bitter ones, and are not

easil forgotten,” the girl said, slowly. -

“ think that r I know one reason why you
don’t care for me,” Hollis said, doggedly.

U Yes?” I I ’

f‘ Because people say that I drink: so I do
sometimes, but not enough to hurt me.”

' “ J ediel Hollis, it I loved you better than any
woman ever loved any man. in this world. and
should discover that you.dra.nk,.I would sooner
he down and die than marry yen,” the girl said,

with strange emphasis. .
“ Well, should 've it up alto other if I

earnestness.

“So many a man has said, and many a ' l,
trusting to a drunkard’s .vwond,‘ has linked r-
self to a degraded brute. Few men in this world
love their wivos well enou h to give u ‘ their

leasures for them,” she re ied, 
:“ And thatfs the reasont at you doﬂtcarefor
me, ~

6‘

0h?” ' ‘ « * , . ' l .
No, no!” she exclaimed, impatiently. F‘ How
many times must I tell you that I never thought
of you as ,a girl thinks of a man whom she:
wishes tolmarry. I like you'as a friend andtun
grateful for the many little kind acts that you”
have done, but that Is all.” “ ‘
“ And
Sharply and abruptly Hollis ut the question

 
tray any sign of emotion, exoept that

shut together tightly for a moment. . ,  t
“I do not think that I love any one, in “this

world well- enougih

swered, slowly an calmly. . , , ,
“Not eVen Sinclair Paxton?” Hollis demand.

4

roused into action at the bare thought of the
men, the print of whose knuckles he
now beneath his ear.

“ I do not understand why

 
ou sh' uld speak 1
i such a we ' ‘ o 7 n
i and a trOub ed look appeared,

n he race.
5 “You don’t unders Pgn‘ r

and, eh i’ c said, deliber-

 
that' at last he had hit upon the true reason why
g she had re ected his suit; ' v

“No, I o no "and she raised her cold,  I,

l

, eyes, and looks him full in the face.

« was . just a little, bit of

I hearing. “I cannot an e wh M1138;-

, ton, the rich treasurer of the mil s ould ever

I be spoken of in the same breath as he poor mill-
hand. Lydia. Grame.” ' '

I “ Because all Biddeford says that/he is your" a

9 lover,” Hollis replied, bluntly.

The girl got just a shade whiter, and the ﬁre ‘

l
I of her eyes became more intense.

I. “ The .Bi’ddeforddolks must have very little to
; talk about if they say such a foolish thing as
i that ” she said slowl

! “ It’s the tru

_ O , andyou can’t deny it i” \Holh's:
period, bitterly. " ’

“ I shall not attempt to,” Lydia replied,  i "

l . , , . l L. _
y“ I knew that it‘ was the truth!” the, carpenter ' .
exclaimed, inc. passion. “I saw the way yen  
, hung: upon hisiarm when you waswalking‘with; " “

‘ng. ,rm no fool. even‘ it  am

\v.;
y .

, reuse .
you don’t 'care for me, I shouldn’t feel so ' '

“ What man ever: -

“Have on any particular objection to me?”

‘you talk like a school:

married you,” he 88' , rather astonis ed at her »

you don’t love any .lone’elsen 

The girl did not start at t e question. orsbessl
handing"

ed, with bitter accent, all the evil in his nature '

boreve 5
of Mr. Paxton,’ she said, slowly, -'

ately, and with a cruel joy, for he was convmced ’

ride apparent in her I i I

  
I

“sign; < ‘ ‘ “‘v

understand that a. wo— .

w .

. I x;
.._ s'

' i

‘ ,

’ ﬂ
\ .

l.

We... Mommas. i  .x

to marry them,”.slie 

 
A _

1

v

 
.I.‘

      
' mac utter

Speech,
 Lydia’s blazing eyes told that she felt, and re-

 
:   seemed close and heavy. around

I Yea-‘1‘“

,x . .

>  ; ,hix‘pxielf
‘ ytOOe
’ ~ I’ve

   
“Lydlaﬂushed up just alittle all: tissues,

and/e. look of reproach came into her eyes; but-

Hollis, mad with ' ousy, heeded it no

“But I can te you one thing, Miss Lydia
Grame,; when old Deacon Edmund Paxton cont
‘sents to your marriage with his son, then the

' ,_ devil, who gave old Daddy Embden his mone ,
_ will come after it, and about that time t e

‘ World will end."

Reckless and brutal was the and
seated the insult.

“ You have forgotten yourself, sir; and, now,
nevergdare to to me again!” she ex-
.claimbd. ,

' x A moment more and Jodie] Hollis was alone.

He could hear the rustle of the girl’s dress as
she ascended the stair. A vague, wild thou ht
came into his mind to rush. after her and g
her to forgive and forget his frantic wo bu
a stubborn sentiment of ‘de held him has

He‘snatched his hat roan the table, Jammed

; , it upon his head, and rushed, like amadman,

trinitth prooeedhom ed directl to b

y is . or own room;

On the threshold she pauseg and listened. ‘
She heard Hollis’s frantic rush from the house

' heard his steps ringin on the gravel walk an

the to slam behind 'm. 

" ' “ e is a coward at heart,” she murmured,

he would never have said what he-d1d.,”

. Satisﬁed thathe had really gone, she proceed—

ed down-stairs ain . (3 up the house.

All tills househo besides’herself had retired.

Then she went upstairs- once more to her

‘ “ else

, snug,‘cosey.little chamber. The room was like

its mistress, neat as wax.

' Lydia commenced to disrobe for the night.
)She removed the little jacket she wore, and
around her neck appeared a little blue ribbon.
As she stood before the glass her eyes caught

“Sight of the ribbon. With a doe wn sigh,
she placed her hand upon the my band; the
ends were concealed in her bosom; slowly she
drew them out, ands piece of ivory about the

.. Size of a. silver dollar came into view. Upon the
’ surface of the ivory was the picture of a. young

 and handsome man, exquisitely painted. The

face was a true southern one, dark eyes and hair,

' the 0'33}. Italian-like countenance, and the im-

I PM??? ,0“- ﬁre and dash which the warm southern
sun gives to .itsohﬂdren; -'

A moment the girl looked upon the handsome

and then she carried it rapidly to her lips,

. . e,
,r and kissed  again and again with passionate

_ love.‘

 Andwhenslmbsr h but i t
,1” 01mm cameupon ert ugh,

I _ .her heart was the ivory por-
trait. : - ' »

 
3 . After leaviﬁ

the‘hou n llis had hastened
dOWn the stree 86’ O "

at break-neck speed. The v
, _ him. sill);
war mad with

“8‘9 and Fasten.
“ Oh, that cursed Paxton l” he matte fran-'

ticall , as he rushed wildly onward. “ h, I’d
ive 11 years of my_life to get even withthiml
could t this girl if it wasn’t for him. Ten

tile give all my life! I swear r11 kill

im e l’

" With the words a terrible scheme came

) into the  of the almost crazy carpenter.

Ho stepped suddenly as if to commune with

’11 "do it!” he muttered—“ this ht
'S’posehe’s gone to bed? um’iﬁgﬁol
_ thereaslateasone
_- o’clock. I 11 try It any we. . I had jest as lief
be hungasnotaSIO asI  himl”

‘55,“, yAgain the carpet: r hurried onward. He
‘ ’Wﬁll

straightatoms.
 In his room he ht a

tedthe

on”.
/ lamp which stood on the tide standng'l‘hen he

. 0 mad the drawer of the stand and took out
" llglef adoaen leaden bullets which were in one
, corner. He was careful to take them all. '

’ In one corner of the room was a heavy black

 Walking-stick with a small ivory head. This

Hollis took, and then turning the ﬂameot the‘
him down quitelow, left the room and house. v

» i S raight he went for Saco. ‘
The town reached at last, he hastened With

 “noiseless tread through the main street until he

arrived opposite to the Paxton homestead.

, A single light appeared in the bones; Its name

’ moved through, an open window, and by the

window, in his shirtsleevesmmoking, satgmclair
am. 115.1738 dreaming of, the assassin who

Quilted so near. “ .

M-g

‘ on. run as ‘ faint asrich ts _
"_wSinPaadzon!z   4 . , > :

" Viv 'f'  \y4  >. \
a run sis-ssssm. '

Dan? in thought, Paxton smoked away.
The cool sea breeze gent stirred the locks of
hair upon his tom les. the silence of the
hi ht he commun with himself.

‘What a strange spell this girl has thrown
around. me,” he muttered, removing the cigar
from‘lns h . and watching the fragrant smoke
as it curle 1n eddying circles upward. “She
is wonderfully beautiful; there is acharm about
her that lnsnares me despite m self. I wonder
what my father would say if e knew of this
fancy of mine for one of the mill-girls? He,
with all his pride of his old New-England de—

‘a she

. ever hem.

Ten minutes more passed

Paxton ,
amassinhadindeed eeca , whenhe heard the
all ht noise which a 11’s feet make moving,
with caution upon a, gravel pathway. . , 

A smile of satisfaction canie over Sinclair’ ‘
face, and he drew back the hammer of the re
volver, ready for action.

Then he heard a gate creak on its hinges, wth" 1
sound denoting that it was being opened slowl}
and with caution. ’ .

The time for action had me. '

Paxton sprun to his feet and dashed across
the road, with t e speed of a greyhound. I

The man pursued had ears no less quick than

9‘?

 
scent. He’s a sensible man, though, and I feel
sure that if he really knew the girl, he would
‘not obJect. But, does'she love me?” And long
and deepl he pondered over the uestion, to
him of a absorbing interest. “ e will not »
own that she cares anything for me, but if I '
know anythin of women she does. When she
thought that was offended to-night, she would i
not let me leave the room until she was satisﬁed
that I was not angry. A young girl is a stran
riddle sometimes to us men, and why she d
they not be, when half the time they puzzle
themselves?” .

The cigar, burning down unpleasantly near
to his fingers, interrupted his reflections. He
tossed the stump out of the window, and lighted ‘

a frgs’h one. K, v ,

“ do not feel in the least sleepy,” he mur-
mured, as he enjoyed the fragrance of the to- 1
bacco. “It is so leasant that I do not feel 3
like going to bed a all.” Then he looked out
into the quiet street, with its old and stately
elms swaying their leafy tops in the ocean breeze.
~ “How calm and peaceful the ni ht is! Who
on a night like this, alone with t e solitude of
nature, could believe there was such a thing in ‘
this world as strife and toil? that man’s angr
passions could rage on this fair earth whic
whiSpers so wooineg of peace and love?”

Crack! _ ’ .

The sound came from the window-pane above
his head. In utter astonishment, Sinclair
looked u ﬁnd beheld a ' bullet-hole drilled
through t e lassof the window.

The truth hed upon his mind in an instant.

“Some one is shootin at me~with an air-
gun!” he cried, impulsive y, and then over his
nature came the animal passion of the chase-
the hunt for b100d.l . _ ,

Quick as thou “ht he acted; hegulled open the
drawer of the ttle table wbic stood by his
side close to the window, and snatched a little
revolver which laytherein; then, with a pan—
ther-like bound, he sprung through the open
window. Hanging by his hands from the Win-
dow-sill, he drngu lightly to the ound; it
was onl some feet, and the so t turf un-
demea broke the force of the fall.

So rapid had been the action of the young
man that the assassin, who had ,ﬁred the air-
gun, concealed behind an elm on the opposite
side of the street, had no time after ﬁring the
shot toattempt to  '

Hid by. the shadow rownhy the house, and
crouching upon his hands and knees low upon
the earth, Paxton took a survey.

Asthe shot had passed eqiiareéy h the
glass, bonng only a little man hole, axton,_
came at once to the conclusion that the person
who had ﬁred the shot must be concealed be-
hind one of the trees on the other side of the
street. But to get at him was the puzzle. The
middle of the street was as light as day, expos-
ed asit was to the bright re s of the moon, and
to attempt tocross it woul only give chance
for a second shot, which might be ﬁred with
better aimthan the first.

But if Paxton could not et at the unknown

‘ grounds to the rear street.

he who followed in the chase. He guessed at

tion and rushed forward at headlong speed.

which he had passed. ‘ _ l ‘
pursuer stayed not to open 1t; layihg his hands

i upgmd the gate~post, hevaulted oVer it, light as
a ‘ 

l .
The sound of the fu itive’s footsteps, running

at his topmost spec guided Paxton in 11% ‘- i.  :
Chase L . ., '1

The unknown ran straight through the

thegrmmdsofoneof the ho sesonthe 

once that the man whom he had tried to, kill ‘ ,.
. was on his track. He now abandoned all can-4. '

He. 

side of the way, then’ sudde y the noisoot his ’

factsteps sto ped.
Paxton had followed him'hot
scaled the fence and came down on

 
did“ he mastheas quick’ 9. cat, who? I I.

W  .  
hadalmostmadeupmsmindthatthe'  ' .

l .

  
, Paxton ran forward at his utmost pace. V
’ reached beneath the tree which had given shale j z“ A ‘
ter to the assassin, and came to the gate thr _ 

It was closed, but u ‘ I

. Over the fence hen?  :-
went into the street, across the street and into »  . , ,

,hutas'he' _ 

the  
he noticed that the sound of therfootstcps: " "

ceased and guessing that the fugitive again, «‘ '
in am ush on the other side of the In

his noiseless wea n. -

largle elm tree, and waited.
‘ can play at hide and I
muttered; “ but he shall not shake me oil, and
when
bird.” 4

The fugitive. who had
the fence on the further side of' the. "street, kri-

He could steal off, is fonts
the soft garden loam, with mu
when forced to tread in thagravel walk. -
The breath of the assassin came hard, for
run had been a breather, short as it was.
Ea rly and intently he listened. ‘ '
soun could he hear except the breeze

(leads

wide—awake d , 'n the moon and-makingj
- h. nannies Elsi

Paxton had given u
too well for that. 8
his pursuer lay conce ed, waiting for 
of his presence to a l n follow on his truck.  
Cautiously, there ore, he moved awe -
the shelter of the clump of bushcs by '

the chase;

and stole neiselessly across the garden. _ h» I
The garden fence was a highone, is... v for

tion of the watcher on
street. _
A dozen steps

track. A half~smilepame ovar, his face. for 12,191
saw safety before him. A dozen more 
and he was half—way across the garden—still
sound of pursuit. a

I.

fugitive muttered, , rsely.

 
foe, neither could he leave is ambush without

ghee. The breadth of the street alone separated
1m
he could detect the ‘ htest movement of the ;
unknown if he shoul attempt to leave thei
shelter of the tree and escape through the 1
grounds of the house b hind him. So Paxton ,
coolly stretched himsel out at full length upon g
ahaeigggt turf,_and, with his ear to the ground, 1

Tenementy minutes passed away, and no
sound save the night wind rustling the leaves ‘
.oftheehnscamhto 7, ’sears. ‘ > .v

His brows centimeter}.  v .

“Can it be possible that he ‘ while l5

 
was getting‘out of the. ointment muttered.

        
dozen more steps and
feet of the rear house of the

The fugitive had

open mouth and save. e ends a. g '
(gag came  him, and

of the pursuer a ain’rosc on the air.
The dog’s had warned, him as,
whereabouts of the ﬂeeing man. ,

 
“Get down, _.ou bmtel”. cried the  V

to‘the fence; The d(

y
hoarsel ,
lgwed clése ill ndﬁmd emboldenedby the, ‘

83

  
.8  (v bf the‘do .‘almms megs},  - ',
ﬁfths  staining. 3 V I.  I, p  ’3

less noiso'thﬂn , ,
1118? j t "
apt a“
. . Playing. ', f t' '
With the leaves," or the distant howlof   h-j

a sound betrayed thathis pursuer was on his"
’3’,

“A narrow shambut I shall  

he was within 
ads:   ,

3 road, he did not care to cross it in full range or , I.

succeeded in winnin one importan. . tadvan ; I" . >

»

z-.

iscordant yelps.   5 
e did not for an instant think . though, that. ” " »
he knew  »

ed instinctively, " 1 i
den fence, beneath which he had found she ' ,1  I
‘ 1:“.

him, and thus concealed him from, the 0...:ni‘sa— 
the other side of  '

had the fugitiVe taken, and  ~17 '

i . paused for a momsutgtoif:
the ambushed foe. Be as sure that ; me“ When “0'11 the Ford1 of the Muse  

. g haul}?  .
the brute giVen tongue when the. fmtstc 15.;  l  _

“1‘ '
,, V

Quietly he nestled down under the shadetof a 

seek all nighti?’ he,  
the morning light «comes‘then Ifll trap my“  g ,
gained as, shelters: ' ’ '

‘3‘

den or of discovery exce t b rotten 2 v. ' ’7 ‘   .

thrills}, :he $0,111,}? o’f the  yri t W I theeggnm was the open country and that meant »

theree~runw10 served mar alter. ‘5“! ' . ‘. ' ‘. ' '
Paxton’s keen eyes took in the, situatim a  No sound or rapid £00m” 1“ the man '*

t. is. . '

0 theme ,s ran swagdyat'his ‘g_ 

 
4

  
Maddened with  the man leaped to tho  ,mrbenyou think that if'I'wa‘sout of the way  »   CHAHER'XIIW'  :l- i
’ child; and d .alt't‘ edogaterr' 'ble blow/upon , that she would, listenfavorablytoyour suit?” , . " - TEE HERE‘D @1312; f“ . ‘  ~ ;‘
  the hea‘ walkinf-stick Which 1 ,“Wellgl don’t1hmw’that exactly,” Hollis , BREAKFAST was. ust 'cverjn theiEmbden « '
~ ,ggfarﬁed’withihim; '  "itha ye giofipain the ,jsaid slowly. ‘ , ; , _,_ i , ' 2  manmomand then}; man and hisdeughter sat v,  
I retreated, almoststuhned by, t estrolre. ', -’ 1; “’I‘hen ‘Why in Heaven’s ‘name do you ut  together in the mung-1‘00!!! 'Whlch fronted on 
 .x' ‘ emanagainsprungtothe fence and leaped your neck in .peril by attempting my li a?” ‘r the garden . -_ '~ ‘ , 1 ' u
. a 50781? it. ‘ ' \ - ‘ i axtcm asked. “If byzthe act you c0uld gain A' newspaper was 111 the :01d man’s hand, but 4'

- '; -' But the contest (with the do had taken time, ? her love, I should not wonder at your attempt- his eyesowere not'ﬁxed 01145116 printed Page-

: _. and when the fugitive had Sea ed the fence Pax— “ ing it, but since you freely‘confess that you do 01 Daddy Embden was'smng91y 0W1 0f
 ton was not thirty paces behind. , not think that it would have that effect, you 80“?

  
6
l,

s. , »
Delia noticed his feverish manner, and came 1,"

 
I I Y ‘ ' i ‘ must be mad to act as you have.” _ ‘  . . .
v  , h I I _ ' ~ Helms lafiked athlifxton liege a moment in l 0“? tﬁodhlsvsgﬁe qmeﬁlyi 3nd cornﬁean ‘0‘
a, o ‘ , won er. 1e case a. never on brou htso ism ° , Own 91‘0113 Ban Y'gl'a “‘9 .
x  XI. clearl to his mind bet-0N, ‘ l v g 3 “:What’s‘the matter, father?’ she asked, ca- , :r
l 1- ‘ I THE CHASE. “ e11, I‘suppose I am mad,” he said slowly, I reﬁ‘fmgbﬂi ‘ you don’t seem'Weu this morning.” " i
 country now-lay before the pur- and after uite along iause. “But I hate you I I am 3' well,” “he Old man replied, terSGIY- ~ .

A ﬁnned and thepursuer. _ _ because I t ink the glr cares for you.”  Dldp’t, You Sleep Well; last night?” ,

 1' First came a Ion reach of meadow-land, aﬂ “And, to gratify that hate, you are willing _ Belief 8&1» I (3161193319813 11111011 at 9413'” he .

 mile or so in exten , some half a. dozen fences to put your neck inahalter?” sald. -_ was dreadful queasy all night. I’ve

 across it, beyond that a strip of timber, the "‘Whenamanis mad he don’t think of such hm thmkm ,,0ve1'. somethln’ which bothers me
 cemmenoement-df the wood. things,” Hollis replied. a gOOd deal- , v 1 ' , ‘

‘ 1-; That black stripef Woodland, standing out “All!” andPaxton’sli ourled. “Now, my “What IS 1% father?’, and the girl biblith 3' 

lolear against the moonlit sky was the only hope friend, just listen to me or a feW' moments. I Chair and Sat own bthhe Side Of the old in an.

‘of‘the ﬁgitlve.‘ Couldhebn y succeed in 11- am neither an angel nor a saint; to forgive is “Wall “9’5 9» ﬁchh P’il‘ti” he Said, Slowly?
long that, there he'might ﬁnd shelter and ope not one of my virtues, if I have any such

“ Of course you read all about the war?" "\ ,
, escape. ,_ l‘ r things A. man never struck at me yet but 3 “Yrs.” She wondered at the question.
J ‘,‘ With desperate energy the man ran onward. who paid. it back with compound interest, if ’ “ W a1, 90‘“ Who Was ‘30 blame for haVing an -
‘ efelt not the gain coming from the wound in I could: But, the we. you are going on, the I 1311a “Len kmedw, . , ‘
;, . ~1eg,altli the blood had free] followed debt W111 be so great tlat I never shall be able . W by, I don t understand, father.” she re»
the-tooth :01 t 9 dog. Fast after im carne topay it. Now, I donit choose to let it go on. Phedum W013i}??- ,~ , , 6  , ,
 \ ’ ~ You are either sane or mad; if the latter, then “W a1» there “'89, Jeff DaVis an’ all them .
 ‘henhalf the meadow was past, the fugitive ou ought to be in a lunatic asylum. But I: Southerners on their side. an’ there was—Abe .~; ,
behind \him to note the position of his 1 ave an idea that, even if you are crazy, there 14111001? 911’ Seward 311’ a 1013 more on our side.
" hounda-like follower and he set his teeth i is considerable method in your madness. It is NOW, Ifol’ﬁ a-hadn’t been for these Iron, there» ’
_ in rage When he saw that“ Paxton ‘ rather disagreeable, the reﬂection that one can WOUND”? have bm any Wars an, the (1395151011 I’m
 yuponrhim. Then he looked, notsitdown by a window of one’s ownhouse and PUZZhng 0V9? isl amft “1,930 men ‘30 blame for
beforehhn and his heart sunk as he noted how on qua cigar, after in htfall without hearing a the 011.98 who were killed_les’ as 11111011 85 If they. I '. '
;~ far beyond lay‘the wood, his only hope (if b‘ let‘whiz‘zing past 's cars. In the future, had kmed them Wlth “1911' 0W1! halide?” I , , "
I .  , , . . hammer mad b may seize ,1an youand you Delia had never heard any such reasdning as
.3   breath was comin thick andhard, and i may; feel inclined to make Marcel: ofme again. this befom and 8319 “1°11 ht thematth 0"“
» I  dropsof 1 mg ration stoodiout like so" just want you to _wrlte that you have at- Cal'efullyi wondering .811 t 9 time What/Could. ;
men beads upon. "3 ,orebeod. He felt, too, tempted my Memo-mew, and sign your name have Put such an idea Into her father’s head. ,.
 smngth m failing fast. Another to It‘ll.' , > I I_ , > “3118 old man watched her with eager anxiet .
1 ,‘m.igﬁpkerateﬂeﬁrtlgﬁ Inside to gain grgmd Hollis logoked at.Paxton for a. ’moment in; busiest: ggﬁttgg 332311 think, Delia—are they I ,
z" ,. ,_ 9 O v e .11 a. n puisuer. ain amazemen . _ i 4. - ,  g ~l
wasstheeﬂort; with stea y, ugnfaltering strides ‘- “ But I don’t understand the reason—” “I do?” think they are! father; it was the = a
 odupon him. ' _ “ 91:, don’t on?” said Paxton, wlth a sap. antagomsm 0f pringgplesirather than-masthat  g
i  ’ quarter of a. mile yet lay between the castle smile. ‘ I’ll ex )lain then. If I should brgught 011 the Weir. , ‘ i V *
 « A and the~wloodlapd screen. To cover happen sometime in t a future to die by the ‘ Then you do? ‘7 thlnk that “161310011013 the , 3'
‘ ‘atllatzdistanceynthout being overtaken the ﬂee- secret hand of an assassin, this little . paper, men Who Were kmed 1195 at their doors, 9mm”  ‘
 mfolt was clealiy imposmble. I { elfgnedby you, might be a. clew to aid the officers asked: 311110118]? ' ’ "
, e-jvi» ‘ , with the cou age born of desperation, o ustlce in ﬁnding out my murderer.” . N0? E, ‘19 no? believe that my 031°! would
i v vtthjthB'came brute instinct which Inspires the 0111's saw the tra bewasin. - , thy}! 9?, 1 She Saldr ~ ' i . V ; _' ’
mainstay-to turn and ﬁght for hlS lifeythe “It is nothing bu a new sort of life assur- m Tﬁmt that: Dene!” .119 criea earnestly .
 man suddenly halted, wheeled around, once,” Paxton continued, dryly. “ I think that tam ‘3 What any one in, this WOﬂé‘Wm Wm,»-
 ‘drawing the walkingctick~the air-gun— I shall live onger if you accede to my request.” but'how Wm 15119 31300113“ “@1109 Wth'ﬁt-Poﬁleﬁ
uprotte ptod- to level it at Paxton. “And it do not?”  w . v . before the 1““ WWW? '- ‘ * i '  
,' ohttﬁt your: man Was ready, and before' , ‘ ‘Then I’ll take you Into 315(16me and at Therey” 9‘ fevemh “mini about the 01.5 - .
'the’iﬁgitive c " d level his weapon fairly, be you througha course of sprouts,er this nig t’s my! Whlch W38 Piﬁmto‘behd -  -‘ ' A
law,   him with his revolver. I , work, PaXton replied, oqony‘ . “You mean the Day of Judgment, father?” , ‘, , 1
motorways ' istened alon the little bar- “I’ll write.” » . Yes, Dene, thats what I mean; how wﬂl a,
 ﬁﬂl'att abreast of t e fugitive. ‘ “Good! I am, glad. that you are reasonable 1175311 through Whose means other men have 
'“ro‘ _ our band, Hollis!” cried Paxton, in about the matter.’ . l ‘ died, stand there? Won’t their blood out i 

E

(g

 
\

 
\ mined toilet, halting, “ or 1711 put '- On the back of an old letter Hollis scribbled ag’m’hlm? 130 you s’pose he’ll stand'azly _ 0.6 .o I .
 throu "you." I ' ' the brief confeSSion and signed  name to it. 4 tO‘Pe saved? , * '
lemmas? Ho i940" the midnight assaSSinr , “ on will not, usethis a ainstime‘unless I. Father’. I wouldn’t thigh or such th * ”

miner/value carpe ten—glared =at' Paxton trou le you?” Hollis asked,.(foubt£ully. the rl’saigé memoir . t at does it mat: '
 699mg “119‘ ‘On ‘71 Tmame: ant “Resteasy on thatpoint; youare perfectly tar? 0“ h “Owing” do With '  . n  .
in Elm 92795 that ‘9 WOMd surely keep safe as long as you behave ourself.” ~ the “’8” Emily 09713th my my ma.“ . at . , ,
£535Wi,VWI/th,9e 110110“ groan he dropped the l “ I’ll tr to, but it’s her worktfor a man to? 3’95“ don" , / ' ,, he‘ i ' ’*
air  te'the ground. _, . . ~ ,. give up t girl, he 10v95’nﬂonj88aid, mom 1 Mebb‘e not; mebbe not, , nmnttered, ab- .

' “‘ '21 me if, you like,” he said, despairingly. fun _ sentl — but I d like to be sure. r

‘  a.  SIOWIY- '“iqonsense!”  {ex 'med _ “ era’s Mr.   up the walk,” 
Wong '13:; yen mad?” he asked, looking 01,313,“ m A main loves a dong mks??? .1“; the girl said, happening to col: onto! the 
 " Pity hall with “391‘ “P011 “19mm and he always fancies-that the last love is the  I, th '1 d , , - l ,‘
had,th down. ' ‘ . ~ strongest. A man who goes mad after one 1,11,31,01,: f 13-6 on] man excmmed’ W ’”
 1913059 502M?!” 031139319? answered, woman'when. the worldis full of others just as inﬁYm n at _ gs 90“ . w: ‘ . ” 
 .' I. - , 7 ecious, desorsz to be sent to a. lunatic asy- no? . u g  .anon—smcmm ‘ghelmﬁ'. '
‘ ,umust be to have done what you have um, And, by_the.by’ if you have any more , remem 1‘, he comes abou  ,

 
night” ' I "Wh "should an attempt my life? such attacks as this one tool ht that 18 most “W19 matter“ business” ‘ , ' v 1 
"  Inger‘done gzg‘li’h m t decidgily the rg'oper lace for §od.” ' “ 1:1,] run away" the”, 8° “sud;  be in vthQ/v'.
. * on ave taken awn 60 Woman 6 _ “ cure a. evili user in I” 'Holl' ex- ‘ ’ V.
;for;”<he rep ed. y claimed, in wonder. ,'  s an ls . And 5119mm out through the dininﬁzrqom; 
twee 13.33311, LYdia Grame’l” . “ Ch; 110, that is only our fancy,” Paxton : mtg,th kitchen where hMaggh Anni the 
“i t: 3" " answered, carelessly. ,“ ut nov'v thatwe un- g“ ' ' was “53' amongt e 95' . ‘

33113“ aware that! 113-79 1333011119? 9%” derstand each other we had better at. ‘A' Mary Ann W333 bmlk comely Empttwe.  ‘
Y L lgiywmimmw; it’s all the same.” y word before (you go. Never in this lifepblame a' “ Show N“ .Paxmn in; be” 9019‘”? “P t 9} .i i 
“That depends a great deal upon Whether man for winnin a. woman’s love; blame the “ﬁg 13,911,? Sald- , d , d .4. 
"iS'WﬂH-ng 01‘ “03-” .  woman always or she cannot bewon unless . ammo Mary Ann realm“- {I‘m She hm‘l. '
a; '01,; We ain’t mug}, deﬁbt am my.» she consents. dood_mghtn med away to the front door, whlc she reached. -
snow" ' carrot i911 WWI ' Patton asked, And with this cynical remark, Paxton turned just as the young man run the hen ' '

 
' ,. r t , .  . ' '  . h' heel and strodea . .. Paxton was shown intot _e sitting-T001335  , 1 ,7
itploin'dno'u he, tattered myself upﬁglﬁlsswatohed him for a? themwonaer. . M23, {hm returnele the kitchen, -' " ~ 9 
’ ambiguous share mamas” “He’s just the kind of man to win women," as mice-100mg Guns lean, Mary An.  
 w  a . <3  '   r ‘ t V he muttered; “he don’t careanythingfor them, remarked with a sly g once at the face 
She'réfnﬁd nie‘becauseﬁh"lovesgoug”; andthatmakesthemcrazy after him)“ yogn gig.  d d D1. . ~ , ‘ '. 
“m‘li’mﬁ tell realism?” and? ,, .  ‘ Sickat heart and weary of life, Hollis Walked 95, “3* 9 e. e mi mm “11 air 0‘ in“-  
tlﬁelientl as o utthe qum¥9nf," " ' , . slowly back to Biddeford. , dmemnww eh She was far from feeling’ ‘9:
 mghlﬁiﬁong  .jmnmmbgrs that night were far' from pleas- Sinclair Paxton was a rent favorite of hers;  ,y
'          Mend/themartin wound inhis le ,where ‘ “"Pemm‘mm' lbspgwlmldhmy
 KO, 2 6W ' knWiW'Pﬁmnﬁmﬁdéd.  the dogbad left t' ' imprint of h, teeth, g2” and 1°? 1minme 9 
 ' jﬁtit  ﬂ“!  acm‘ 'trOubledhimnotalittle.‘ “ ' ‘ “99¢ I;  ' w . ﬂ  ‘ .  -
 a was that-mama? , ,:~    ~  i r i -. . ~ Why so, Anni» asked messy,
  enlistment swimmers  '1‘ ,   o - ~ ,  .- » i , hunters we“ tﬂe redspotbmingawh
  sinus  h“  * i “ ‘ ~“ »  ~ ooh ;   p I  l 

  
_ ;

 
4‘ ’.,, g ,. «(r

' ““Wh , MaryAnn-l” and the'dau hter of the ’

w «house blushed to-her temples; “w yshould I

Wish to chat with him?” ‘ , ‘
¢ ' ght girls allers liked tosee their fel- _
lers,” Mary Ann replied, slyly, enjoying Delia’s
. V “ But he isn’t niy fellow,” Delia protested.
, r “Isn’t your teller?” , ‘
 . “No.” ‘ , ~
‘ ~ “ Comes here re often.”
“But he come}; 1532’s.; father on business.”
‘5 And not to see you?” ’
, ‘ r-No' .of course not.” .
'r'“ Well, folks think that he comes here arter
ou.. Lordy. Delia, I’ve heard a dozen say, I

v what a nice match Delia Embden and Sinclair
Paxton will make.’ ”

“I should think that folks might ﬁnd some-

.“ r thing better to do than to talk about any such

.x: “*7 thing, particularly when there isn’t a word of,

' ' " V . truth in it!” Delia declared with a dashed face.

- . “. 0h folks will talk, “you know Dehawand
' When they talk rtegciy m say something. Big,

 . do you know I ylthought thatyou and .

V, Peyton‘were en rig” ’

 “gratin really on; he’s been here so much

. , .ﬂ ’ v ,

. ‘-‘  is because fatihﬁrlgas'amt degleloggigsi,
neSs transact one es
to scamme; walked dziwn the street with
him two or three timesgbutit was all an ac-
cident; we both happened to go out at the same

am
’ do tell

 
H
. “Elton, now 1” Mary Ann exclaimed.
' “ W311}, I’gn glad that he ain’t your been for
one in . .' .
' “Whyg what is that?” asked Delia in astonish-

 " ‘ ment.

.5  r “’Cos he’s gdt another
.‘ ‘Ann, mysteﬁousleg. V

- ‘g ‘The ﬂush fad from Delia’s cheeks, and a

spiteful look came into her eyes. Although she

_- , haddenie‘d that Sinclair was her lover; yet 1t
‘ '. was, lain that Mary Ann’s intelligence was not
,  d to give her leasure. : v

. . ~ .3 _ “HOW'do you know e has, Mary Ann?” sh

' " I  I With an effort to ap r unconcerned.-

.- 5., folks know all a t it now,’,’ Mary
Amend. withan air or satisfaction: “They
“were out walking ether last ni ht. I guess
$116 old deacon wo 'd have stare if he could
have seen lem.” a ‘
 v , at is the 1’s name?” ‘

‘ ' .‘lorg of ,the mgill hands—seame will that Sin
raxtonis treasurer of; her name is Gretna:—
diaGrrame.”‘- ‘ -« l
#0
ha
‘1

girl,” whispered Mary

 
 , yes’ I. know her ” Delia said, ’uickly'
, “*5 %,‘Idon’t mean th’at I really kn%w her:
but lone: Whoshe is. She hasn t been here
0’, Sic-came last winter; she's a dreadful
ggﬁgtgﬁgpﬁmg; nets as if she’tlﬁughtgxat'
.  e an other e 1 er 1111
“.eaidsmtha toes of the head. I‘ v ’ ' 'y
“w, ﬁmzlsl very / pretty,” Delia observed,
'“ ell, that’zg’est'as’people think,” the hired
ali e contemptuously. “She isn’t
I _ oibeanty.” ' i
4, _. . “gs 'ia'Mr. I’axton reall in love with her?”
  (‘4 wilt/to have 3 seen ’em walkin
L I. togglihsr , _ ‘nightl” the 'rl protested. “
  100k rat/themand hat satisﬁed ma. I
1313111 at 13"“Bhﬂmethat some one don’t tell‘
 maﬁa-3,136 Matc‘knowit.” '
 , i 9m! livery ood Mary
:, 'Ann,’f mm, but therge wasgdrltinge of
 *Plleymhiiemi‘iy be and th’ "
.  en
\not beef, Tharp isn’t inybodyiné ddelei'd 1313
knOWs any thing about her, who she is, where
' ,she comes from, or who she belongs to, Why,
she may‘have a dozen husbands, tor an my-
 1310?}? her?” th demo could,-
,‘m‘ o seeoW 6‘ n 81:01;
 em a 2.5; knew it,” Delia said, thoughtfung} ’
g .,  Q..“,"Ee’d d av! Deacon Edmund Paxto‘
  knows mg: 1:129:31 the rest of Biddeford 5m?
’ . to 8  I only wish he knew all about it.
 v»   1103; re“ 1y, and the conversation
I  turned monomer su jects. Theseedwasplant-
7* p'ed; though,  fruitful soil. ,

. . . ‘ CHAPTER x111. , \ I
  ..-A, endear STAB. V
7.3%? tom; and twenty heurs after the conver-
Wﬁ detailed: in our, ' chapter between
'  Excision, and the f‘hel' ’ Mar . Ann,
 , nod/Rams“- , his rary,
’ ‘ monshwrsrem '

f. y9_
‘ ' {.an

     
4“. ' ' ‘  1 little "'t hat”
151%: ’9thth Ma ' ' (1m ‘0 ' retrace,-

large and clear.

freedom from cares in worldly matters; yet

, of that name; she is eviden 1y a stranger, ‘then’. E

in twenty minutes he had ﬁnished, then

 
‘ ﬂamers Wtﬁwaimrbk .

gentleman, with harem: yeah; ad? a ram;
 by lummant silver-gray Side-
Whiskers' is eyes were dark blue. in hue,

The deacon’s face Wasiat andfclean, rod and
white in color—sure pr’dof of good living and of

the massivo under jaw, the ﬁrm and saga-rose
forehead and a certain shrewd look a ut the
eyes. told that the jolly and comfort-loving dea-
con had a strong will of his own, and was fully
able to cope with his fellow-men, in the great
battle of 1i e. , .

Edmund Paxton came of one of the oldest v
families in all N ew England. His ancestors had g
settled on the banks of the 89.00 when the ow- 2
erful Tarrentines, the Penobscots and the aco .
Indians ranged in their native freedom from 
the Salmon river to the St. Croix. g

Old‘ gossips told a legend how one of the Pax— 1
tons had once wedded a daughter of the great '

 
, chief of the Saco tribe; how, in some mysterious ;

way, the marriage had brou ht ruin and dis- §
traction. to the red—men, an how the dying

warriors, with their latest breath, had curse ;
the race of Paxton, and how the curse had clung 3
to the family even to. the resent time. _ %

But, old gossips will t , and sim le stories f
willgrow byconstantr titionintot e_ ' ity:
of' legends, ‘ which mus be received wit out?
question. 

,Few, however, could look up0n the placid and .
good—humored face of Deacon Edmund Paxton,
and believe that any age-descended curse shad-
owed his life. 7 , -‘

The deacon had inherited quite an estate from ;
his father, and by thrift and care had so in- {
creased it that he was accounted one of the rich- »'
set then in the State, east of Portland.

The arrival of the morning mail interrupted
the deacon in his labors. ‘

Three letters came; two of them in yellow en- ;
velo bore the Boston post—mark. be hand-
Writlng was familiar to him; one was from his _
18. or, the other from the mill- ent located in ,
B n. But the third letter e deacon ex- '
amined with curiosity. . ~ ‘ i

The superscription evidently was in a woman’s
hand, and disguised a v hat, too. It was a E
dainty letter, and bore ,the Biddeford post— ‘

mark. ,

It was addressed simply, “ Edmund Paxton,
 Saco, Maine.” ' r

‘ liumph, it looks like .a love-letter,” the dea-
cOn.murmured. “,If it hadbeen addressed to
Sinclair, now,'I should not have wondered, but
I am a little tong-old for that sort of thing; too
much in the ‘sere and yellow leaf.’ ”

Then the/deacon Opened the letter-

It was extremely'brief and very much to the

pom .

It read as follows:

“A friend to inform Mr: Edmund Paxton.
that his son, ‘lair. has honored a young lady
named Lydia Grande, a mill-girl, with his attentions
so openly, that folks wonder when the marriage will
take place.” ‘ 4 -

And that was all; no signature was attached
to it. It was written in a hand evidently dis-
guised, but plainly written by a woman. ‘

The deacon read the letter over a second

 
1 which had just been

i where Lydia was at work.

 
time and pressed his lips together vely. ‘
Th’en‘he opened and read the othg’two letters

which were purely on business matters as he ~

had expected. These disposed of, he returned ‘

which mill; our mill Isuppose.
d name,” he said, reﬂective %
don’t remember an family about here i

Grame° a rather od
ly. “f
I can understand this letter on that en  f
It is written b some young lady of ‘ddeford ’
or Saco ,who oesn’t like to see Sinclaireapti- f
vated by a stranger. I. wonder if there is any
truth in itgand then again, I wonder who I e;
‘ l is? I am going down to the mill this morn- ,
ng; it mayr be as well to inquire about this ;
Miss Lydia Grame.” . ’
The deacon turned once more to his 
e,
the library and dressed himself for the street.
He proceeded at once to the mill.
The superintendent Anson White,
private oﬂice when‘ the‘deaoon entered.
half an“ hour was occupied. upon business.
matters when the deacon suddenly remarkeda:
3 ’ , White, :1. SWPOSB you know the
ill-hands .

.H, es,~-Ith_ink.1do. Ihavealways madeite'.
Wmttoknow all about’the hands. asides ;
_ ou know,  »mu   better-3.3
hits replied; " was: a, slnewd.‘  ;
 _ gr. ‘1" y w 

Esq., was

  
trouble to come up here;

 * din." tihe sti nto he 
_. “gmdmgg W. 01138 .0 ..rs€>,ii’_

    
1 .‘ .m- ' . v '11- /.‘ ’3 , w
_  . YH N > , V k f I a I
t y ,  
' x C V. ' ' "‘ . M

'Ya‘nkeelrom» ’way-downlﬂa'st; and really :53 
capital manager. V _, a . , _ , 1  ‘
u ‘Is there" a Igirl in the mill named Grams-A3  
Lydia Grams, believe?” ‘ . .. '
"‘f Yes,” ~White answered, promptly: “beenr _ 4»
here about six months, if I remember rightly”; '
“ Whatsort of girl is she?” the deacon asked, -‘ . -

quietly and with apparent unconcern.  _ _,.r .
“Tall. with dark eyes, very ladylike indeed;  

she’s ’ above the average of mill-girls—very; ‘ , 
’much of a lady.” , .  ,.

“Is she a good band?” _ ' y » 

. “Excellent! Hasn’t missed a day’I believe ~ "
Since she came to the mill. She‘s a very capable '
young woman. I took quite an interestin her“
F1361; she ﬁrst came, she was so quiet and lady- .

1 e. ‘ 

“I’ve heard her spoken of, and from the  
scri tion I fancy that I would like to see hen"; «‘~ 

“ hat’s easy enough if it’s not too ,much'; x '.-,L
trouble for you to go up—stai1s,”‘ White said, .  '
I'lSlng‘. , y ‘ V SS 3 ,2 ,

f‘Oh,'no; although I am getting rather  
and old,” the deacon said, good~humoredly,' ; .,
tmgup from his chair. . ; . I 

‘ Well, deacon, you stand it pretty well,”
White replied. ‘ '  , .,

“ Yes, contrive to worry along. By‘the way, ,3“
does Miss Grame stop in the mill boardingé»
house?” _‘ 4

“No; she boards in Biddeford, at widow;
Gardner’s.” ' “ r W ' ‘

“Ah, indeed!” . I ’ - ,

Thenthetwoproceededintothemilk‘ ’ f :3:

Lydia worked in a room on the third ﬂoor.)  .
: supermtendent and. the deacon, saunter'ed ,  ‘i f
carelessly throu h the room. Mr. ‘White ex. " "
planned the wor ing or some new machinery » . : .

put in. r . » ,
paused Within twenty feet erase or, 
As they. stood there in conversation, White 
qmetly indicated the girl.  'i :
f‘That’sr  Granite-onetime right—the girl 
With dark hair in’the striped calico”. . '  "
“Pretty, isn’t she?” the deacon said. . ' -  »
“Yes, and do, you notice how Moshe -”
appears even in her common Working ’9" ‘ "
_‘She looks :ve much like adady; “I should r
thmk though, t at a girl of her attractions”
w be more inclined to dress herself , and,
play the ﬁne lady than to stick steady . her ',
work,” the deacon said, thonghtfull . ,'   
“_I haven’t a better hand in themﬁl. W”? ‘
White replied], decidedly. “I wish all the rest

were as
Buggies girl, eh!” ’ '

u I “1;, »
“Yesastarasmyknowledgeof goes." it? '»~
The two walked on, the deacon taking a

fulgarhn' g lanceatL dia. ' .' 
m e  the circuit of the men), than 
rn  V

Y
. hepﬂice. . , .,
Hardly had the two got on sight when the 7,
came  to \

of

girl who worked next. to Lydia
er. ’ x... ’ H »

“I wonder what he wanted up 

it. 4'

The two

. said, with a sly glance at Lydia.
“ Who?" ‘

- “ Why the old gentleman with   .

“,To look at the machinery; I supposef’, W 
answered with rrfect unconcern.  ’ .  

“He’s boon is rough the‘nn'li ‘ofttn enough-
he knows all about the machinery,’.’ theeir 

said. with a‘toss of her head.- ‘ »

 
; r “I never saw him here before,’l’.Lydiaj:,/ra5

‘ again to the» mysterious note. r é plied. . / .
.“A mill-girl, eh?” he muttered. “I wonder: “Why, don’t you know who he is?”,',
Gimme—Lydia ;. . “The old

ntleman, ou meant”, ,~ ‘t  a
asked, wondergieg at the quzstion. " 
“Yes, of course.”  r-r- 

f‘ No, I do not know him; how should I’P’she- '
said, in some httle astonishment. Lydia 
not understand the drift of the girl’s questions. ‘
nor why she should take any interestinths visit
Offlifflfld hntleman. . u ' ;  .  ' ”

, at was Deacon Paxton,  I
Paxton s father.” ' ' " w 

Lydia gave just a little bit of (1 cm

  
. had noticed that the old gentleman -'had . ' lied

at her ve ' intently, but she had thoughtihat ,
he was 0 ywatchmg the precessof her iii-“orig :1
“That, was Sinclair Paxton’s father,” gthei

f'g'irl repeated, a. little disalppointed ,thati'ihef-
6

news had produced! so litt impressi‘bn u- m
Lydia. 5 She had seen Lydia walking with in
clear two nights before. I ’ ' . 1
“ Ah, yes, ’ Lydia said, aﬂecting an air grim"
concernlwhieh she waster from feelin ..‘  
“ It is strange that the dear-on should
‘ I one would think 
he wanted to see somebody.’.’ and tithe-ti
partingehot. the young lady returnedtofhex

 
. (

ﬁber-come to see mei’f _ ,, 7 ~ .’

  
 ' ,
. l . 
, z , ,r ‘

  
   *

 
s._:
.1

s. 1 —' I

 
: ,s,
l ..,
., ,,,/,
.,.
 »

_- I
e,
.> , '. (,
 .

  
  K ' . CHAPTERXIV.
;, . run DEACON’S VISIT. I .
I .'  . THE day’s work was over, and Lydia sat in
 1 the little parlor of! her boarding-house. She

,j .-,.

r ' heat. A little knot of ﬂame-colored ribbon at
' the neck was the sole ornament. I

Ever since the discovery that the old gen tie-

man who had bestowed such a sharp glancc

v I 0 nothing else.

herself: , _ m
' “ Did he come to the mill to see me! .
‘ *Something within whispered her that he did.
- From the remarks of the girl who hadcalled
'  T. . . her, attention to Deacon I’axton,11t was plainly
' ' apparent to her that the intimac ex1st1ng .be-
itween herself and Sinclair. ha_ been notlced
. an commented upon. This de. not astomsh
"" Ly is. in the least' for she  learned Ion be-
, ~ fare” t the good folks of Biddeford and aco
”  deargtlovedto gossip. And that the wealthy
 ,’ , Sinclair] Paxton, the treasurer of the mill,
I  ; ‘Should bepaying attentions to one of the mill-
, , hands, a poor girl depending upon her labor for
'7; 1’: 5 portxwasquite suﬂicient to create consider-
,aﬁetallr. '; ’ , H ‘
 _ , ,Tho gloom of the twﬂight was slowly descend-
 , ” .v Lydia Was listlessly gazing out of .tho'
' r . ' wmdow into the little arden, watching a half—
v  lownvroseas’ it swaye gently to and froin the
. ‘=  ‘ .ovening breeze, when she was suddenly startled
 ﬁlly hearing her name pronounced and by a
> ‘vaice strange to her ears. \
; She looked up, and by the garden gate stood
 ", tie old gentleman she had seen in the mill that
' , ; iorning, Deacon Edmund Paxton. _
  “Miss Grams, I believe?” the deacon had said,
 V in, his bland, smooth weaiy. » . . ,
 ‘ , “ch,”thegirlrepli ,startled at the appari-
ti :3. , ‘ »
> ' '1 " S‘Excuse my-ooming in, but I wish to have a
.  , ." few minutes’ conversatiOn with you,” and the
~deacon‘opened the gate and advanced up the
pathway toward the house.
' Lydia’s suspicions were now conﬁrmed; the
 old ggntleman hadeome to the mill that morn-
in, , see her. '
, V ,  bewildered, and guessm vaguely at
s  the reason of the unexpected vis1 , Lydia, has-
’ _, ‘tenod to open the front door and admit the old
' . i-aeuueman. .
 ' He walked at once into the parlor. ,'
> .'  “rYoztvsee, Miss Gimme, 1 make myself per-
fectly at home,” he said, smilingly, as he seated
_. himself in the rocking- chair. . r .
’  ’43,? lam sure that you are quite‘ welcome, Sir,”
' the hastened to say. . ‘ ,
' , my dear I have come to have

,rr‘é.

.l .-

l

I .  £4
.' F‘ quite a leng
7 said, in a fatherly way.
'  Silently the girl complied
' ' “ I saw you this morning
, ‘ “I an pose, though thatl ought to be—
byint ucing m’ , as I. am a stranger
you. .' My name is axton, Edmund Paxton;
i ‘ nameis robe.ny familiar to yOu; my son,
*mair istﬁe treasurer of the millwhere you
"Weme ”_ . . .
Q “You” , I am acquainted With him,” Lydia
slowly ‘ ‘ .

. ﬁlthough the manner of the deacon was ex-
‘. 9’ ‘ 'ycordial, yet the girl felta painful or
.prehension that the nature of his errand was
. unpleasant. . l . I
{<11 Air—yes- by the way, Miss Grams, “your
‘ name, is not familiar to me; are you a native of
the State .0: Maine?”
1-fiNo,isir' I was born in Vir inia.”
 “Abba-Southerner. eh?. ell, how do you
ilkeNew England? Does it agree with you?”
 ~~j“0ﬁ-, yes: am very happy and contented
- here,” she answered.
1 ' “I’m glad of that;
every onehappy. I
 have , o relatives here
-‘ u‘ of sir.» ~
i . “.‘It is our goodold New England fashion,
you'know, for the lolks to callupou all stran-
 gers 'who honor their neighborhoodjvith a visit,
and as I had an idea that you were a stranger
ﬁlming us! thought that it was my duty to 'call‘
. upon you. I’m aware that the custom is get-
- ,tiugoutof fashion now. We’re all so taken up
,. {j‘ﬁ our’hurry to get rich that we are forgetting
gthe simple manners and kindly habits of our
» ferefathers. Are your parents living; Miss
Grams?” ‘ r  ‘
‘-“=’NO sir}?- ,  I
' t‘-“A1ialom,in the world, 9hr?
"‘Yer I havep‘t even a living

ﬂow of.” the'gii'l_said. sadly.F

3'“ .

' 1:4.

I always like to have
presume, then, that you
f .

 
relative that 'I

 
wra-

, had laid aside her working-dress and was at- 
r' , tired“ in a ﬂeecy muslin, very plain and very 3

' 'u' 11 her was Sinclair’s father, she had thought '

‘ A dozen'timesshe‘had put the'question to g

conversatioh with you,” the deacon

in the mill,” he be":

,' 5‘.

. ’, could be:

, noticeth’e  

 
'3 . i ‘ . " .' ,. . , »
.zf .'  / ,V ‘..’ ‘f ,
- , ~ 4’ ,. . . ' _/

I.
’ ' '1 like
 g3?”

' “ None l”
ti,
“I’m very glad, my dear, that ‘I called upon
' you. While you remain with us you must look
; upon me as a friend. Any tune that you need
counsel or assistance, come to me, and you shall

certainly have it.” ‘

Tears s arkled in the dark eyes of the girl at
the frien 1y words of Deacon axton.

He, watching her narrowly while pretend-
‘ ing not to do so,‘ saw the evidence of emotion.

you and no rain ives to guide or coun-
. . , it

brushed the tears away.

of his words.

“ I am sure on are very kind,” the girl said,
her voice trem ling with emotion, despite her
efforts to appear composed.

“ Well, my child, how do people treat you up
here? Do you get along pretty well, eh?’

:: Yes, sir; every one is very kind to me.”
deedM’f.

“ I have tried very hard to give satisfaction,”
she said, earnestly. ,

“ He tells me that you are a great worker.”

“ I do the best I can, sir,” was the modest

White speaks of you very highly in-

re 1 .

R suppose you have some bright ‘ chateau en
Espagne before you—some dream of a cozy
home and a husband’s love to cheer you up when
your ﬁngers get tired and your back weary?”
he deacon said, car‘ele8sly, but he kept his eyes
intent} ﬁxed on the face of the girl.

A ll tle bright spot of color came into the
white cheeks as the words fell 11 n her ears,
and she hesitated a moment be ore she made

re 1 . V
R Kb, sir,” she said, slowly.

pretty and attractive as yourself
of marrying and of settlin down to cheer, some

rfellow’s heart and ma e him think his home
is an earthly aradise?”

_“ I do not 12 ink of marrying, sir,” she said,
with downcast eyes and the tinge of color glo -
mg brightly in her smooth cheeks.

“B the we. , Miss Grame, have you an
3116111198 in Bid efordjl” the deacon asked, su -

on y. ' I

L dia looked astonished at the question.

“ one that I am aware of, sir,’ she replied“

“I asked because I received a note this mom-
ing which evidently didn’t come from any
friend of yours. Read it,” and the deacon

 
guised hand.

The face of the girl ﬂushed up red as ﬁre as
she read thecommunication. .
, “You see that doesn’t come from any friend
' of yours ”‘the deacon said, meuningly.
“ I Wi not deny, sir, that I know your son——
i that he sometimes visits me, and that we have

The deacon was rather pleased With the effect  worthy to be love d 1,,

well,” the deacon said, reﬂectivoly. ‘5 '

th h h ~ ' ' i .
Dug S e hamly turned “Ida her head and 1 of the tw111ght, a d communing with herself.

r' trance, her eyes were ﬁxed upon' the ground " ‘

l and rapidly the busy thoughts ﬂashed across

 
,. “What! Is it possible that a young lady as 
doesn’t think i

‘ for the speaker was Daisy ,
Brick opened the gate and came into the gar-r ‘

ia had not‘ moved, but stood like a t
: statue in the doorway. r ’ ‘ '

i‘ den. 'Ly

I"Bless use; that’s .5 "ad muesli—a” yang 1‘ '

'i‘iiii

l

he said, rising an takinghis‘
bier “R

emember, if you need“ an

 
.“I’ll"*bid you, ood~evenin ' my dear, now,” '
5 shat from the ta- A 

advice, ,
‘ come to me and you shall have it free y.”  .'
“ Behave me, sir, there is nothing in ,this re-

port,” she. said, anxiously; "at least, not on ‘ ‘

my side.”

“If my s'on loves you and you would make

him a good wife—which rom what little I know * l

 of you, looks'probable—I trust that there may

be some little love on your side, one of these
days. Good-night,” and the deacon departed
leavmg Llydla a pre , to conﬂicting emotions.
“But do not ‘ ve him!” she exclaimed,
standing by the door, gazing out into the dusk

71

“ I feel sure that do not love him, yet he is so

I.

 
CHAPTER XV.
THE ADVENTURER sonny. ' . ‘
LYDIA stood by the doorway like one in a.

her brain.
slow] , "and yet am sure I do no . love him-
011, t are isn’t any one in this world who could
how strangely fascinatin he is, and yet—~-
that I do not love him. ut will the time
ever come when I shall love him? No no, no!”
she cried, hurriedly; “ I must not think of that;-
I must not even dream of such happiness being
in store for me. I must be. on my card gainst

5 him, or some day I may wake tot e kno‘w ed 9‘
: that I do ,love him, and then there will
! nothing

but misery for me hereafter in this

“ He is so worth _ to be 10ved,” she ropoate'd ’ l

7': "

world. It must not—it shall not be!” and the v 
girl shut her white teeth ﬁrmly to%etlm.,ﬂ,ld Y

over her face came a hard and cruel ook.’

the ﬁgment she looked ten years older.

F0?

ﬁ
night?”  a well- nown voice- The s >aker
had aEproached sousoftly that the girl, cap in
thong t, had not heard his footsteps. ‘
Lydia’s face plainly showgd' tile pain she felt,
no . ~~

“What a deuced strange girl you ’are‘l”
Daisy exclaimed as he came up to her. “You
don’t even say ‘ cw d’ye do,’,to a fellow.”

ed the girl suddenly and her eyes glared and
the bigvei’nsin her white temples swelled out

‘ like knotted cords.

. handed Lydia the brief note written in the dis— 3

; walked out together; but that there is any en- ,

gagement between us is a falsehood. hope
i you'believe me, sir?” and Lydia looked earnest-
}, .

tleman said
the note. ‘ haven’t come to put on on the
rack and crossquestion you in regar to your in-
timacy With my son. Of course it was only nu.
, tural, when I received this delicate warning,
‘ that I should wish tosoe what Sort of a person
; Miss Lydia Grams was. That is the reason
3 what I have taken the liberty to call upon you
i an make your an aintance this evening: ” ,
x ‘ “But, on do_no believe that the warning is
' true 511' ” Lydiakasked, anxiously.
My dear, it doesn’t make any diiference to
‘ me whether 1t is so or not. I don’t ask you to
so. either yes or no. If my son has chosen to
ta 1 inlove With you, all that I have to say is
1 that he has shown himself possessed of remark-
la,ny oodtaste.” . ’
i “T on if yourson should like me, he would
not incur your displeasure by so doing?” Lydia.
j asked, blushmg Just a. little at the complimen-
tar y speech of the deacon.
, ‘ He is old enough,
1 and act for himma , and I should be the last
‘ person in the world to interfere in the matter,
unless he chose to_ come and ask my advice‘
then I should give it to him more as a frien
than a father. or course should naturally
ask some few uestions as to who and what
; unintended h ' was, her family, etc; which

into the face of the deacon.

 
81' ‘u ,‘ ' ,.
: color ads from. Lydia’s face, and. she
seemed- c:  deacon did not fail to

_”'/.'r. 3 '
x .t ,, 'P..'

   
e
P . , , . _

; chat with you once in awhile, Without your; 
“ My dear, don’t run on so fast,” the old gen- ‘ I: I }
food-humoredly, as he took back i

my dear, to both think 3

 
“ Are you going crazy?” demanded Brick, in I
astm‘i‘iﬁhm‘ent. ' h ’ '
‘ y ave on come ere again?’ re ted
the rir], h'er volts forced and unnatural. 
5'

an answer, ’ he replied. .

“W ll you ever leave me in peace?” the‘girl 
written on her white], ~

gxcluimed, despair plainly
ace.

"‘ Who the deuce wants to disturb you?”
'aculated Brick, disdainfully. “It’s a great‘
ty, I think, if I can’t come and have a quiet

kickin up such a row about it.”

“ ' all; do you want now?” the girl asked,
plam‘ tive y.’ ‘ ‘,
“Don’t want anything in particular,” Brick
replied, shortly. ~ 7 ‘

“ I can’t 5W9 you any more money—J” ' 9 .,
“Want II ask you for it,” be interrupted;

go away 1” she exclaimed. . ' .
n t do any thin of the, sort and don’t
you be a fool. don’ intend to

friend you ever had.”

“ You a friend?” Lydia exclaimw, in a a...  

of witherin contem t. 4

Even the redoub able Dan winced at it.” 

He was not utterly without fee ing.
“ See here, don’t
a fellow-- with that whtone of yours, ju
a north-east wind. y, Lydia, you in e me
feel quite uncomfortable; you don’t say much,
but your manner suggests
so quick of apprehension, that, really, I Would
greatly prefer hat you would speak in a more
pleasant manner.” v v' ' 
‘ ‘ I don’t wish to see you at all,” she exclaimed,
quickly.“ “You know v well that your
presence brings nothing but pain 156 me.” '

_ “ dia, mycharmer, it’s our‘d ' ~in;this' I

. _ ﬂours, to pain sometimes. 7 he said, ,
lightly; “ but you take a wrong ideaof this

matter. You are here allalone, a stranger;

.amon'g'strangersgso am I. '  old accusing"

dia, en' ing the breezes of the '

Why have you come here again?” demand— 

 
o soc you, of course, since you insist upon

 
t

a you any . i
harm. You’ll see before long that I’m the best, ‘ ,

on be so confounded sar— 
castici” he exclaim . “You cut right throili h 
_1 (9 ;

a gooddeal, and 1am, I

 
.u‘

__y -2 \ - . ‘ ‘ y» .--.  r ‘
 ' >' ’ - ..r ‘. . .‘\..-
_ ' | v I r

l I , 

 5   * "1

 
, _ 1 ‘ .. I I r, y y 'l ‘,
.. ‘ ~ 7 5" ’. v ' J
V.“ _ r“ \ I .- . . . '
» , r7

.1»)
 1 ..

 
‘,

 
an 

beget r formutual advice and counsel, Say.

' And‘from, what 1 have heard from the. village

gossips, I rather think that on will needthe ad-
.vice‘ot‘ a. cool, clear-heade friend before long.”
mDaisy’s manner implied a great deal .mOre
than his words.
“What have you heard?” Lydia demanded,

' suddenly, the vivid scarlet spots burning-in her

cheeks. .

’ , “Theta certain gentleman is very much in

.- love with you, and that you are very much in

love with him, and the ﬁrst letter of his name

" is Sinclair,” Brick exdaimed, jocosely. \
. ” , “ I cannot keep people from talking,” Lydia

said slovvly.
3 ' ‘ “"Who wants you to?” Brick cried, in amaze-
’ ment. “Let ’em talk—does ’em, good. Now,

 
. my dear, I’ve come to

ve, you some good ad-
vice; so let us go into 1: 6 house where we can
sit down and talk quietly and calmly. ” \ .
h “:11 do not want your advice!” the girl cried,
0 V. . - q '
“But on must have it, no dear high-spirit-
ed’an . ,” Brick re lied, p cidly. ‘Comel”

\V And be mounted t e step and sttem ted to

place his arm around the girl’s waist, ut she
shrunk'from him as though there was death in

" his touch.

,"“Oh,’ I ain’t a snakel" Brick exclaimed,
rather out of temper. “I’m not gomg to bite
you; you needn’t jump as though your precious
'iewas .dan .” r~ .

“I can not to.have you touch me,” she ‘

'  said, in alone of aversion. ‘

 
.I

',*have

;.  ,Englanr' ;

i v . dent tone.
 , these pa
* ":i‘0901{mg, ain’t worth knowm ’

“ 0h, mdeedl Well, now, I never should
p guessed that, if you hadn’t said so!” Brick
exclaimed, With profound sarcasm.

 Then
and Lydia followed slowl .

V Brick tpok ossession of the rocking-chair,
[With an air of intense satisfaction.

' ' “ The may say,what they like about New

the poo le down here know,how to
’ ﬁve and enJ‘oy 111g,” he exclaimed. in a conﬂ-

“I’ve made up my mind to stop in
rts for some little time, and so I hunted
up aboarding-house, and what the old woman
s it, Mrs. Sparks, don’t know about

)
ﬁlLydia’s heart, sunk within gher at his words.
_¥3hehad tried to forget him and his visit, and

~  had ifondly imagined that she would not be,

" . haunted by his presence.

 , well
   Lydiadid not reply, but lit the lamp, which

,.  gt,
, g»-

? 
, t}

. their of

 
’ “5‘3 the way, ‘
ght a lam , i there is one in the room; I

to talk in 6 dark,” he said.

on the mantlepiece.

 _ . , now, sit dewnhmy dear,” Brick con-
,. ﬁlo-the girl’was leamng on the mantlepiece
\hérlg’gooks so awkward to "see you standing
1 She went; uietl and ted herself in the
nearest cm? y’, “a? ,

' v There, that’s better!” he exclaimed, with
Satisfaction. “Now we can have a

cosy chat . .
Mud“ together A moment since you

   
cesigt is 'ohly'nfatm'alf'thdt  should‘come

die, my dear, you may as

.V a little out of humor, he walked into \
the parlor,

, 1 me greatly. ,You insinuatedgth’at I .
£93339 ‘70 get some money from you. , My

' . :how‘could you wrong me so?” and ‘
raid -  .. hi! head; mournful y. “True, I
‘, 1" 3510,10 ~“i’aesmallsumfrom you on the occa-
; ' gm Ewe y  as I explained to you
, ' f has now mat waggnder ai clgud; that itiloud

. < ’m V .nown usinesso=m

0g?» “M “the loan received tron);

  
(

   
 ,,.,ikno.wn him to exhibit
' ‘ f; tions whatever. '

  me in conversation with

J i v my name might be asked. I am In;

, *1 ;_.aisy Brick. V
* ' Tailors at present, for,
.. yer

'  

. the
 ’ :gfor L

,Lydia looked a. little bewildered. dam
.acuuamtance with Delta Brick, sh; had 593311:
my: business qualiﬁca-
if any 038  happen to
you at any time,

‘i By the way,

OWn here as

oddas it may)?” r to

 peculiar appeyationiis. y- my
vix‘That can it possibly matter to me?” 
“ﬁll, an air of Weariness. '

0h nothin , of course, for I supposea-th'at

I x am not sailing

,u
s.

'pi‘d Alfred Vere d9 Vere are dew-1” and
.zgo‘ne?’

agar: you ask, that question?” the Girl said,
3' *3

Brewer hardl  need or 'i but still an

£34

winthat we. 3%; , unders tedeach. other.
 ’, r we , came ; T on were
Efﬁe   ’  was 9; English

 . .. unlimited wealth; now
Whisthati  hernia apoor‘honse—a
meninges taster ile

A8

13539111138 w ich once animated ‘youubreastw

. ,  '
~ I Semitic]:

.- ‘,._v.x>ll  » .““ \
onceihad an idea'thati was, going to bestow on
proved to be a_
when Ixtell you that have a scheme inmy
head which will make your fortune. You are
poor, and work hard all day longyin a dingy
mill for just enoughto live on. on shall

rich,’ride in ypur carriage, enjoy all that wealth

‘ can urchase.’

“ 0 you ever read the Bible?” asked the girl,
suddenly. ‘ 

Daisy looked thoroughly astbnished at the
question. ‘ h
. “Well, I can’t say that I doread it much,
now,” he replied. ‘But what has that todo
with us, I should like to know?” _

“One passage reads, ‘Get thee behindme,
Satan!’ ” ' ;

Daisy winced, for the shot struck home.

“ You are! extremely complimentary, my
dear ” he said, a little annoyed.

“Only the truth.”

“ The truth should not be spoken at all times.”

“Anevil saying used by evil men for bad
purposes!” she exclaimed. .

“You think, then, that h’ke the Prince of
Darkness, I am promisin what I cannot per-
form, when I tell you t t, I can give you

I

q

the Book.”

“You may be able to do what you say, but I
fear that the price will be a terrible one.’ ,

“ Oh, no! it will be extremely cheap; only to
marry the man you love.” 7 :

Lydi looked at him with a piercing glance.

CHAPTER XVI.
BRICK “RISES” 'ro EXPLAIN. , ’
“ NOW' don’t look at me in that wa with
our great eyes almost pping out _0 your
ead; I am speaking sober y and in downright
rnest." Fortuneis before you, if you will only
choose to grasp it,” Brick said, just a little un-
ea'iy under the piercing glance pot Lydia.
he girl made no reply.
Daisy looked at her for a moment as if uncer-
taip how to act. ‘ ' '
that I, had gone into business.
curious about the matter?”
“I do not believo you,” the girl said, frank-

 
Are you not

y“ By Jove! .how extremely unpleasant youare
in your remarks this evening! You must be
out of temper at something.”

“ I have seen you,” the girl replied.

Daisy winced again and,shut his teeth to-
gether tightly for a moment. ,

“ You are in a terrible mood;to-night," he
said, endeavoring to conceal his annoyance.
“,Well now, for once in your life you~Wrong
me.- It is really the truth that I am deeply en-

aged in commercial affairs. ‘ I told you at our

st interview that I referred to receive money

from the great wor d rather than from on;
you ,must' own that there is ' 'ust a touc of
onor about me, bad as I am. ith the money

I received from you I proceeded to lay the
snares to catch the human birds known com-
monly as gulls. You may remember that I al-
ways 1 'd that amen of wits could live well by
simply trading u n the weaknesses of his fel-

covers some im ortant’secrets that the men with-

out brains pay. im well to disclose to them. This

iksn the ’idea at the bottom of all, patents, you
OW. * _ .

whereonunbelief was, strongly impressed.
‘,‘ In fact, I suppose I could claim to be an in-
ventor,” he said. « '

incredulously. . ,- ,
“Listen,” and Daisy drew a folded paper
from his

aloud: ‘
“.‘Iueonrm'r ro FARMERS m omnns.-— How to
keep wellsfrom freezln in the coldest weather. lull

Franklin, Saco, Maine.’ " .

“ €21 Daisy looked at Lydia and smiled.
have made. Where’s
afreer give

u Zia u g,

the man who woul

you really know, a. way to prevmt

asked doubtfully. - y r

y. ,When-ﬁvl? receive the ﬁttyeeu

t... q...  serene” its new“)
‘ , n; . - , e ' was. r ‘

tobecoldgtake ’1 '  ’- "

kitchen lira”:

I“ But that is impossible

\,

 
ﬂaw

; i.

you an unlimitedamount ofwealth. ' Thatidea .
ﬁusion only, but, now, I doubt
not that you W1 ’ ook u ' tune with amazement, ‘

the way,” he said, abruptly, “ I told you

r The girllooked at him with a countenance.

pocket-book, and opening it, read,

particulars sent by me for 50 cents. Address Ben? -

on see what an. important discovering“
’ﬁftycents to keep his well from

 
‘ Brick said, com

   
freezm’g; 01,115” to them how?’ Brickﬂ‘ﬁ. _
blushingly. ~.;_ ' _» , l  ,

“A trick, and like me the girl said, 
y“ Yes,» I ﬂattm‘ myself that. it isn’t one 
who has the‘brains to g 13 up. so neat adodgeﬂ ‘ *-

lacent y. » ‘Now, here’s Numo' '4
ber Two.” An he unfolded another paper. '

“‘How not to lose at cards, dice, or  
game of chance; worth a thousand dollars to any » "
man. Send twenty-ﬁvecents bymail toJames Gray, ' '
Biddeford, Maine. ” r , p a , -

x “ Now this is really no humbug; this Istruth,”’_
Brick explained. -' r .

i: ‘ADITid the answer? f h‘  .

ever p ay at any game 0 c ance ’” aﬁdh ; 
Daisy caressed his chin, smilingl ’ '- 
folIgydia’s face plainly showed

the contempt Sheff,”

 
“I calculate~as a down-easterwoul, .1 y?
that these two little advertisements W). J"

 
I very handy, these two towns being so near 150-, 1‘ ’j
. gether. '

3 my little game.
. Ket ingenious devices are worn‘threadbare, Pu":
wealth? You see; I do remember something of , , _ . a);
a . g dear, unt1! you have gone into this so
guess ‘ on never will
f‘amo nt of idiots-there are walking aroqu m

l

l

l

l get sol
; enou h to kee ) their folly to themselves. ,

; face of the girl clearly expre

low-men. To ilustrate: a man of brains dis- '

“And what have you invented?” she  I

emergent-emulates -» '1

 
til m.”

nice; '4'
, m‘ I
me in about ten dollars a week clear proﬂ  113%. “ _

   
It gives me two post-o ces

audit
will be some time before the folks will

suspect *
Then, when these simple and, '

ave a dozen others just as takin . dig, v ‘ * f
g 01.93;?» '

have any idea what a large  

(this world, pretending to bé“ perfectly sane.” , , 
‘ “ The pohce may interfere with your‘occupa. .,;

-“Ve little dan r of that. The “men Who 
on such t ings generally have‘sens'e,_.
. . whey»
only ose a t ﬂe; bes1des, I don’t Operate any; .
where near the post-ofﬁce address. The silver; ‘
tisements go to newspapers located in; farrOE'ﬁ
States, and the gulls seldom make any fee,
about the sell. Its alight, genteel business, aid ' a '
one that suits me to a hair,” Bi‘ick said," 1111., a; ; .
easy, airy way. , ‘ p ‘ '-  x1
The look of contempt which a. peared on the ‘7

. _ her opinionrﬁf»
Dais Buck’s clever devices. ‘ '. 
“- nd now, to return to the 311133201:  9'"
which I came especiall beepeak. Bayou
to beé’,wealthy-to be orever above want we;
care I " ' ‘ 1 '- --
.“'Not throu h an r means which ,ou’caa." " ‘
offer.” Lydia rgpliedzﬂrmlyw . : é r ' 3
“Oh, nonsense!” Brick cried, augment.

“ what matters the means as long as ‘e and is .,
attained? But, I will rise to explain. This;
Sinclair Paxton is madly in love with you,”  .
Lydia rose sudden] to her feet, and 
down‘upon Brick wi a face as white sodas l
colorless as a marble statue. , : : v  
“ Now don’t be a fool!” he exclaimedé-he'mw 
danger written lainly on the girl’s face—f‘andi ‘
listen to what 1 ave got to say.  I" 7  I
.  rlﬁh—orHat lﬁt his father   N
Is elr. ex ' marryyou ' you Q  H v;
ggrgs’rightly, and I can advise youlin  
a, _ ‘ .. , -, :«. ‘h' L
“Wh do on wish me to m ,,him?’ m
girl askgd, slimy, and with a 1&6 marble.
~“ W'ell—I would like to see you:  ,
fortably in the world, and—” 1 Brick hesijla
“And because on “would play the, ' ' I
part; by the holy that you have on meil‘ "
would wring money from him. You 
make me steal my husband’s money tobun
silenoel”'thegirlcmed,ind1gnantly; \ ' g’  ;
81:15pm! not so loudl” ‘exnlaimed Blank

mes

 
v “Oh, do not‘tear‘ we are all alone, ,
house, than h I should care very little it all j
world hear my words,” ydia said bitterly;

“ M dear, don’t run away with t  
ideas, Brick said, soothingl . f‘I— Jam p,  
our good. Con ound it, do, 
even is got any blood inmy v I“?

1; isn’t an sacrlﬁw 
wave you upto this man? , f course Ikinteud
to aid for it." Not that I’m going!» Wt 333w
aleec , though, as you suggest. want ,3" '
tain sum of money, and then I’ll go; away, and;
you’ll never see me again. " I’ll giveyou anyes».
surancain the worl that you'canvsugngrest: _r ,
don’t care what it is. I am reallykectﬁig; unrest,
in this matter. I I have thought, it (:Vel‘ 
fully. It was quite a strug 19 before I 
bring myself to consent to save you forever
Come,.I should think that you would  k,
the chancete‘mam'y the “man on love. -    ,
“ How do youka that I, ve 

, s: an, panama what i we  
pad seem, saw‘you‘when’you;gwere ' ‘ ‘ ‘

acting- for
think that I
Do you suppose that

 
-‘\"

  
’4',-

 
~ w Now don’t be fool‘- I
‘ ish; .nsueh/ another chance as this may never
 .‘°"ceme.to you in all your. life. Never mind the
 1;; don’t think of that at all. You and I are 2‘
only ones'th-at know it. v I shall never speak
1 on do as I say. Marry this Paxton, pay me ?
i . la.- housaud dollars witth a year after your
3' ,_ ' marriage, and I’ll engage never to trouble you

 
 , .L ax ,
i-  “You would have me wed this man with a
" , lie on my lips?” the girl demanded, bitter] ..

- ', “ You need not speak at all; I’ll do all the
 lyi f that is necessary in the aﬂai
, _ . “All you'will have “to

diet and look ha
olks will want to

py. ‘Of course the Paxton
new something about your
family» I’ll attend to that, andalso to your
past hfe. Ishal] only have "to tell the truth,
 ' essing some few triﬂing particulars which
 are neither here northere.” '

 . \‘. 11, what a base part you would have me
1” the girl exclaimed.

f a ,, Not at all! What is your past life to them,
 Or, to Sinclair, for that matter? You’ll make
 a good wife, I know, and that is all he

1d sodner die than become his wife!”
'dia cried, almost ﬁercely.
mybut I respect him too muchto deceive him
,. 'd from this time forth I shall strive to do a]
m mypower to cure him of any affection that
He may think me ﬁckle
tan'd Weak-minded, but base or false he never
‘1 on can do your worst;
_ tell everybody who and
I care but little, but deceive him I
am bound fa st enough now to cu;
'n”g him I should make myself, in eed,
e ,

dia, I,trust that you Will cha

g m Bricksaid rising
humor intheworl .

.‘ . “Never, never!” cri

  
“I do not love

  
 he may have for me.

 
ed the-girl, decidedly.

 g y H ,hree or four days;
 it ever,” and, with this parting injunction,
,  left the house. '

CHAPTER XVII.

I j“ run sronn QUARRY.
walked out of the house into the street.
" was inﬂamed with rage, although
uiet and calm. -
sin this world there’s no fool like
. awoman when she is a fool!” ’ he muttered, save
‘ j‘ ‘ , as he strode along at uite a‘ high rate of r
I ‘ this b . “ Thergs a 0 can thgusand dol-
‘km _ v V ‘, pusmess Jll as easy as urnin m
 over-,1)? she w’ould y

t as well attempt to a
. air-omits course

 
y do as I wan her

 
‘ whistling at it as to
a ' e or force, er to does I want her
w,  are never was a woman yet who could
.cempmhend the meaning of the word, reason.
‘ is an enigma to them. They are solely and
j j 1 y creatiu'es of implies. . There is no earth-
 in, trying. to reason
‘ you talk, the less they understand.”
Brick by this time ‘had come to the corner of
the;street, and hesitated for a moment, as if un-
‘ M h way to direct his steps.
r f underthe shadows of a large elm he sud-
; j‘became conscious that amen had followed
 streetand was rapidly approaching

' '. j  nopartic'ular heed to this, but the
 directly ' on and haltedmpposite, to

' ' i , passing upthe street. ,

,, ed at the stranger, and the stran-

‘ _ ‘athim; and Brick, at the ﬁrst glance“,

gei- down as being under the in-

he I want to 'see,”said the

IV really believe that you have

antage of me,” Brick said, blandly.

namejs Hollis—Jodie] Hollis.”

" instantly remembered the name. He

, not forgotten the conversation he had had.
1 "the grocery cler

 mill- ,irl Ly

     
with one of them.

   
‘ , and her suitors.
ollis, the carpenter, I be-
,  Brick» said, wondering what on earth he
F’You knowMiss Grams, don’t you?” Home
" Ihave the-pleasure of her acquaint-
, , e gemxgethlng very particular tosay to

3st Hollis? inan at. .He
that some as .éouldw

 
understand» what

   
.1

  half an hour to,  Id  l: '

   
{ﬁlﬁ sir, I malty—’1  assuag,_gs~  7

V  ' (A
to have a little ., conversation, with.’ yhh‘ about  utter be

her. ” '

I-‘

t attemptto lie tome!” new. cried, in,
u I heard every word that _

“ Well, in Awhat particular, way?» Brick, with '  a, rag

2 all his acuteness, was puzzled. ; ‘ ,
“I can’t explain here,” the carpenter sald, .

assed between yo and Lydia Grams to-n’ight.

doesn’t love Sinclair Paxton, she doesn’t.

! hurriedly; “besides we are liable to be over. j 10% You» but 8110 in SOme way is in Your POWPY‘. z

l-heard; folks are passing by us constantly.”
“ Is it something particular?”

“ Yes, very particular.” ' , ' ,

, , “ Very well; I’m at your service, then.” >

; Brick’s curiosity was excited. , ’

.“ I know a nice quiet place, where we can
talk without‘danger of being overheard,” Hollis
said; “‘it’s a stone quarry, just outside the town.
The moon is coming up, so that we will have
plenty of light.”

“ Let’s be going, then.” ’ . .

And they proceeded onward. Ten minutes’
walk carried them out of the shaded street into
the raysof the rising moon. '

,“ Have a cigar?” Hollis, said, halting sudden-
ly, and taking a couple from his pocket.

“Thank you, yes.’ .

Then for the ﬁrst time, Bn'ck got a good view
of Hollis’s face. He saw that it was as pale as
death, and that there were great dark circles
around the bloodshot eyes' and he noticed, as
he offered, the lighted mate , that Hollis’s hand
trembled like an aspen leaf.

“He’ll have an attack of the. jim—jams soon,”
Brick muttered to himself.

Then the two proceeded onward without fur-
ther halt until the stone quarrywas reached.

“ Let us go up and sit on the rocks; We’ll’have
the breeze up there,” Hollis sug ested. '

Brick Was nothing 10th, and t a two climbed
up the narrow path until they‘reached the sum-
mit of the rocks, and there they sat down.

Before them was the V circular excavation of
the quarry; behind them the open country,
rou h and sterile, and patched here and there,
wit stunted trees, while bushes stretched down
toward the far~oﬂ’ ocean, the beating of whose
surf against the shore could almost be heard
from the quarry’s hights.

“Now we can talk without danger of being
overheard,” Hollis said, and his ﬁrst act after
sitting down was to ﬂing his only half-consumed
cigar down into the depths of the quarry.

Brick Watched the action with astonishment;
for :the ﬁrst time the thought came into his
mind that possibly be had done a foolish thing
in trusting himself in such a desolate place with
a man evident] under the inﬂuence of liquor,
and who seeme to be a. little unsettled inithe‘.
upper story. . .

‘ You know Lydia Grams?” Hollis exclaimed,
suddenly. ' . ‘7 '

“Yes,” Brick replied. ‘ r

“ What do you know of her? Where did you
know. her?”

The questions were roughly and coarsely put,
and Buck rather resented the tone, .

‘ “ In.Virginia,” he said, shortly. '

“ You know_ell about her?” '

“ Oh, not only a slight acquaintance,” Brick
, replied, carelessly. . - * ' r _

“Yen lie] you do know all about her!” Hollis '
cried, ﬁercely. * -

“ See here, my friend, I don’t allow that sort
of thing.” Brick said with much dignity, ris-
ing, as if to depart. But, before he could move
a ste , Hollis amped up, and without saying a
war , grab Brick by the throat, and set him
down again upon the stone with such violence
that it brought the tears to his 8 as.

For a moment 13an gazed at ollis, stu ﬂed.
Daisy was wiry and muscular, slight as e ap~
peared to be in ﬁgure, but he hadfound that he
was no match for» the strong-Embed carpenter.

“Sit down!” cried Hollis ﬁerce] ; “I reught
you here to talk to you. I know hat you know
all about this girl. I was hiding in the garden,
and heard about allvof your conversation. The
moment darkness comes, I watch that house
i now. Don’t you ever advise her to m Sm-
clair Paxton again; if you do, and I ﬁnd t outi
I’ll strangle you with aslittle remorse“? I WWI ’
crush the life out of a worm.” ‘

Brick looked for a moment into the glarin '
eyes of the half-crazy. ca1_ nter, and. fill .Y Ye ‘
izedthat, to use the popu at expressmné he W33
in d‘tight place. He hadn’t:11111191355ti ea'how
to pr ‘ to soothe the enraged lover, and so
wisel concluded to hold his Pewe- , ,

, I “ Yyou have some pow-er over 151118 woman;
on know some secretconoemms her- NOW
bend watt you. my ten, me what that secret

is.”  V ' .71., ‘. "  "

, Brigglook jﬁ‘Hoiii's fora moment, and in:

a use ayes-£12msz and calculating Daisy ‘

came. aloolr..d;m®$m“‘- . ' . . _ ~ 1. 5 :

 
l
,4,‘

    
be in’mine. I’ll give you a minute 130‘ ‘  

{And Hollis approached Brick, grasped
his strong arms and raised him to his fee
_“ I can’t tell you!” Brick exclaimed, strug-w
ghng in vain to escape from the iron-like, gripe]
“You must, or I’ll throw
into the quarry!” Hollis cried, dragging Brick

gasped, in horror: '
Little hope was there of mercy from the; mad—

Hollis held Brick on the  I I ,
d“I’ll tellyou on one condition,” Brick gasps I ‘

you headlpng down -

toward the edge.
“Mere ! mercy!” Brick

Brick back on the stone where, he
had sat, and then resumed his former position.

.“ Now, it is only fair that you should ay me ‘
for this information '
thong t of a plan of escape.

, that’s fair,” Holhs assented.

5‘ And before you can use the information you.
must have certain pa ers which I have in ,my ‘
uppose you meet mayhem“ '

,” Brio ' said.

room in Biddeford.
to—morrow night?” - . .
‘5 You are deceiving me!” Hollis cried; “ I’ve. .
half a. mind to throw you oven-anyway,” and
he rose in menace, "!
“You’ll never

said in ala .
“ That’s Eli-line,” and Hollis
much do you want?”
I“ Well, say a hundred dollars.”
ight; to-morrow night, here?” .

Then the two descended to the road, the
perspiration standing on Daisyls forehead.

CHAPTER XVIII.
run saco’s CURSE.
Jr was after supper, and D
in his library, deeply engrossed 1 in the Boston 1

tie knock at ,the door, and}
vs look was on his face
9' of (anxiety in it.»

gain the secret then 1” , Brick  V:
paused. “How; '

 
, There was a gen

Sinclair entered. A

~L-a look which had a .
.“.Are you busy, father?”he asked, respects

Vthmgmsay?”looking at the Advertisem'anyf

n, then,” and the‘deacon motioned; ‘ 1‘ ’

Sinclairseated himself. _ ‘
“You made a visit down-town this eyen
' father?” he said, a little con
dent in his manner. a
' “ Yes,” the deacon looked a little \
“I was told so by a party whcsaw you com-v 
from the house.” ' _
Sinclair, I think some of these Biddeford,
folks Would make excellent detective ‘ '
the deacon said, shrewdly.
u 1 hope, father, you do not blame me for

; and on your part, Itrust that, y y . ,
yins topryinbo your: a 

“N0 Ikno‘w you too well for that.” , ._ ' ' :
ou why I took any  
an the deacon ,took the, . ’ ‘
goon-hole in his sec-

straint PM , , ,, ,

Will ng’t think ghat I was tr

action in the matter,”
anonymous letter from a i
rotary and handed it
Sinceur read the letter over caretlﬂl
. It is 11'] a woman’s hand, and e
gulsed,” he said. . -
“ Yes, I formed the some
all familiar to you?”

eyou any idea as’to the writer!" , ,

lady in numerator»: 
payng attentions, before ‘2 

 
y. _ I I, 
vidently dis- « ,‘ “
ppinion.’ ‘Is the  

“None 111 the least, air.
“13' here any young
Whom'you have been
. you metthis Miss Gramei’

n , , I . 
ht if there had been anything of than. 7- a g
lain the,reason, -  .
Ofcourseitwasdojne ,  
to make mischief; thatisapparent anon 113?, -. - - ~ .
 199 the design has not succeed ,“siri’, 
just a shade of= anxiety in

,    far i 
1 MM rather greener Yea-kn

ing on that it might e
6 letter was sent. xp

 
% ‘ (turiosity, gamma I made up my mind to
, v, See'what evounaladzrwas like”, I ‘ V v
 . , “ And 'mayI ask what opinion you
» regard to her, sir?” ‘ . " r- ‘
 =   ‘I was very favorably'impressed Sinclair.
» , ,She is very much bf a lady, and White says
.5, there isn’t a girl in the mill who attends to her

_ «work better.’
' - “ I can fully conﬁrm Mr. White’s assurance in
- regard to that matter, from what I know of the

, pay-roll,” Sinclair added.
, ’_ ‘Well, Sinclair, has it really one as far as

~ this letter implies?” the father 'ed.’ .

“No, sir,” Sinclair responded, quickly. “I
‘ . own I have said the lady in question some at-
». '. vtentions, an do think a great deal of her; but

' * there is no engagement between us and I don’t
, " *‘know as I am really justiﬁed in calling it a love

affair”. r ' ,
“The young lady told me as much. ,I had

quite a pleasant chat with her. ” .

H ,“ Then Isuppose if the lady and I make up

our minds that we do care for one another, we
» may hope the union will not be without your

sanction?” , ' .

' “ From what I know of the lady I can See no
. ,. reason taobject. Both are old enough toknow
4  ' l‘mr‘owuminds and to act for yourselves. I

f“ rankly confess, Sinclair, that I would have pre-
  ferred to have had you marry the daughter of
' 7 , ~ some of the old families about us; but, perhaps.
, it is as well, if not better, that a little fresh
 av bloodishould be infused into the old New Eng-
, land strain. But do you know any thing about
, I, \ her family?” . " .

“ Very 'ttle, sir; I have never questioned her.
,In‘ fact, father, the aﬂair has not gone far
enough iyet for me to proceed to that length. I
" know:_t at she 1s only a poor girl, but that
4 makes very little difference 1n my estimation.”

‘i None at all!” the deacon exclaimed, quickly.
-- ,‘SA man marries a woman, not a money-ha .
  The cardinal point is to consider whether she is
i_ 'suited to you or not, and whether she will make

you a good wife.”

s“ Marriage is a letter , you know, father.”

“ Yes, yes—terrible at of blanks, m son,
 ﬁnd very cw rises, As a general ru 6 our
" " family have no been lucky with their wives.”
g,  -“ Sol have heard, father. I remember that
 aunt Jane used to hint mysteriously at some
,  ten-ibis cursehanging over our family, dating

~ ' ’way back to the o d. ndian da Vs.” ‘

g :5“ Yes, there is quite a legen . I suppose you
' Ought-to know,it, as you are thinking about
,. "ﬁghting married; my
,‘ ,fore'my marriage.” \
'_ _ E“ Doydu believe in it, father?” Sinclair asked,
- a smile. ' ' ‘ ‘* i
'  y son, never doubt an ’old family legend,
 ;. okxouﬂl ruin the reputation of the house for-
= v  .the deacon said, laughing. “ Legends
1- 4 1‘9 Stored things, you know, to-be handed down
' m father to son, like old family “plate. I am
to say, though, that the story doesn’t ut
H . one 01 our ancestors in the best fpossible lig .
 - Bu” you shall judge for yourSel .
, ,"f’ommenOes justafter the founding of the
~ ~  _, r 3'4" 9116 of the ﬁrst cabins put up-here was
  by our ancestor, .Colonel’lsrael Paxton.

" V a  Styx that it stood on precisely the
: =  Where this mansion now stands. The
;.f', - 6h 1 in almost constant warfare with
 . % chgefiiﬁfivtg the Saeotribe. ,Finallythe rest
 g ‘ ' r , Kein ampapoagsof Rhode Island, eta-
“. - I110“, 0’; ' 8t in. asthe whites termed him,

Fined. th  Jud anomfederacv intendedto
drive 9 W 1398 into the ocean. Phili ’s defeat
death bron- the Pdfwer of the In “ans for-

   
emu in

 
Ha
8.
9;

" . ‘ 17' cal
the tribe ever came back t6 3:153:33: 133135! e“;
'- Pitched the“ "11359 ‘me I ‘mues up the
, _ cam, in what is now eh? town of Hiram
But,» weak as the tube was, 11; w” still, a source
. not considerable annoyance to the sewers at the
:mouth of the river. ;

3 e Our ancestor. the colonel, was one of the

 
 .w destro the power of Kin Phﬂi ,

  
4 become acquainted With an than girl—.caued
; . afterthe fanciful fashion of the save ges—Little
 S', at. She was the da ughterof Kennebunk, the
.» great chief of. the Sega tube. The colonial;
’ sfuch to thogstonhhment of the colonists—4w

  
, , Emil)“. solder from doingso,‘scz_ne six
months}  thejai'weddiu , the Indian Wife led.
_   colonistaﬁeaded b our ances-
  colonekmthe  of ’ .rcdnxen,’
 '  wereshutoheredin the

 
‘ colony. ,

ether told it tome just.

The’ legend '
two _ Grams boarded, had made all needful

- The Sacos w o, _ I,
suﬂeredsevem‘irmed Part Of the con

5, wme who had marched ,to Bomn‘and'

,  Al rhereturue to $1100.13? some 0 once ' e’
’ ' n

 
and 1 down

    
’iight;  it; seem. escapéu‘rottavsttut‘rwith» .
the far-off tribes to the north, and never more
,with arms in their hands menaced the: Sam

“‘Our ancestor, the colonel, received a large
grant of land for his services; but the deediof
treachery, by means of which nearly all of her
kindred had fallen, weighed heavy on the soul
of “the Indian girl, and three months after the
date of the slaughter she died in child—birth. in-
voking the mostrhorrid curses upon the head
of her husband and predictin that the curse
of the wronged red-man Woul cling unto the
family of the Paxtons until the blood of the
Indian should again mingle with their life-
stream.” A

"‘ But this curte, father, has not been fulﬁlled;
no fatality has ever attended our family.”

“ Well. yesrthere has been a something which
seemed like a fulﬁllment of the ‘ Saco’s curse ’
as the family legend calls it,” the deaconsai ,
slow y. g

“In what way?”

“The Indian wife died in giving birth to a
son, and, from that day to this, With but one
exce tion, all» the Paxton wives have had but
one o ild a son, and have died in giving birth
will??? 13%;] 't’ rtainl ' strung father!”

, _ e a ce yISVery e
Sinclair‘baid, thoughtfull . . 3

“It really seems as if re was some tru
.in the 01d legend after all, doesn’t it?” ~
ti “ Yes; but you said there had been an eXcep-

on. ‘ I

“Yes, my father’s wife, your grandmother.
Her ﬁrst child was a girl—your aunt Jane, but
your grandmother died soon after my birth.
All these particulars were related to me by m

  
thug know‘whatto do with,”  a
eghewidow had been just a little bit passes '
because Delia had notcalled 'upon hesitate}. .‘
In' the old time the Gardners and theLEmbdeu‘s
had been Very intimate, but since the skipper
of the Nancy Jane had become wealthy 7g ,
sort of cbldness had sprung up between the two 
families. Three or four years before, the vii-3'
lage gossips had broadly hinted that it was
likely that Jerry Gardner and Delia-\Emloe‘n
would make a match, but, when Daddyr Emba‘
den made such a display of wealth, all 
that Jerry, who was o‘nly‘a clerk in a grocery, ,
store stood very little chance of winning the
wealthy heiress. , _ x i ,
“Yes, the care of the house does keep me 4
pretty busy; and then, father, too, hasn’t been 1
well for nearly four‘ months now.” . 
“ Sakes alive l” exclaimed the widow, invhsg",.i'
tonishment. “Why, I never heard an 
say any thing about your father being sic r ”;  ~
‘Well, he’s not so sick as to need a decter,>‘ ’1‘
but still he needs ‘a good deal of looking ,aftergl’
Delia e lained. ‘ V “- . ' . 
*f‘ YOu r'e looking real well Delia.”
"0h, es, I’m always Wel .”‘ , , ﬁ  
“Wel , now, you’re a good deal  “l. I
do declare I hain’t been sick for! don’tf '
when. And I work premart, too. Is _‘ __ 
you know that I’ve got a der, and  -
ways makes more Work.” I ‘ ' { ,
‘ Yes, a Miss Grame, I believe; Mary‘.Ani1
was telling me something'hbbut, her the ow
dartr ” Delia said with an air of  
‘wen, Iwantto‘knowﬁf Mary Annie still ..
wi‘thyyou’l” the widow exclaimed. , f  u? ‘ ' ‘

“ She’s a real smart girl. Her mother  

     
IA W.»vi.v‘; ,

      
father 'ust before my mamage. Of course
did not lieve inthe egendary story and man-
ried without giving it a thogght. But your -
birth cost your mother her ' e, and, for the ‘
ﬁrst time, I began to believe that possibly there 2
might be some '
the Saco’s curse was clinging to our family.” 

“ And the only way to remove" the spell is for
one of the Paxtons to marry an Indian girl?”
Sinclair said, thoughtfully. .

“So runs the le nd.”

“ But, father, id any of Our family ever
marr a. second wife after the ﬁrst one died?” _

“ o; I believe that has never occurred. That i
might break the spell. I’ve half a mind to try
that myself,” the deaconsaid,laughing.l l

“I do not think the Swede curse will keep 1
me from marrying if I ﬁnd a. girl I like,’?’an- i

Blair said. 2‘
‘f Oh, it is probably onl acciden after all.”
Sinclair departed, fully satisﬁ of  fa-

ther’s consent. ‘ _
CHAPTER xxx.
WIDOW GARDNER. “

Ir wds about ﬁve o’clock lathe afternoon. r

Elmira Gardner, more commonly called widow
Gardner, the mother~of the grocery clerk,
Jerry, and the woman with whom Lydia.

repara-
tions for supper, and had sat down in t rock-
in -chair to enjoy a. few minutes’ rest.

he widow wasa brisk, lum little woman,

wearin her age remarkah v we 1; as busy as a
bee an as neat as ’wax. Biddeford folks said 4
that there wasn’t a. better housekeeper in the j
State of Maine than Elmira Gardner. ,

The widow had 0 ned the blinds, which had .
been carefully cl to kee out the, sun, and, ;

with an expression of placi contentment upon i,
her face, was enjoying the cool breeze which
“$333? tile tom ht sight 1 ’

u e er eyes caug o a young
lady tripping up the street. , .
“My! ’ she exclaimed, “if there ain’t Delia

Embden!” » - - . '

, And reat was the widow’s astonishment :
when 18 girl came directly to the house and
med thleLgarden-gate, evidently intendmg to

e a ca ' , '
“ How. do you do, Mrs. Gardner?” Delia said;

“ I’ve come to make a call,” , ,

“ Come right in, Delia l’texclaimed the widow,
hastening to throw open the front deck. a . --
«, She escorted the girl into the parlor, and
pressed her to lay aside her thin , which Delia
Prgfcrredt got ti; do,  she was only
8° 11;: o a aw in nu ‘

~ “113’ ﬁlm. Gardner, that youhad about
:come to the conclusion that I had forgotten all
my old friends?” the girl said.‘  . _ ' ‘ ~

' ‘Well, to tell the truth, ouz-hain’t beento
see me for a long time, but.
vweregbusy. It’s agent} ideal
care'of'a big'houso  up on menu},

 
5‘ 9959 that Youfahave  ~ 

    
ttle truth in the assertion that E- that mebbe she won’t board with

; while longer,” and the widowlooked 

‘ course when I heard that the déahon 

siposed ,‘ ~‘that 
-  .werktto-tzke' not:

use I? What the  

and our mother too we all went touch 
toget er. Yes iss rame boards with
real nice 'rl; she works in the mill'acroés ,1, “
river, in aco. Ikinderhave an idea, 

mera 

 
E”

ous. 
“I s’ you mean, Mrs. Gardner, ’that.it’s , ~
liker she’ll go to kee ing house for 
Delia. half queried, smiﬁn' ‘ g. ~  '  ” ~
, “Well, now, I guess that «you have heard
somethin about it, ’ the widow said, shrew 
. “Yes, Elsi-y Anntold me, but Ioould' 1. .
believe 1t.” .  '  
"Well “now, I shouldn’t .either,”‘ mid'the
widow, rawing her chair a little-n \ rte 
of her visitor, and lowering her voice, ‘ 
thedeacon, his father, called on her yesterday”,

  
The I looked astonished, and

just a ttle shade ofdisappointment  

“ Why that was string'e,” she said slowly,
“ Yes, I didn’t know a thing about’it ﬁll  ,
the deacon had gone away; then  
~that’s her name, you know, Lydia 

 
.v

“Well, I vow, I believe you 
knocked me down with a feather when;
of it, I was so astonished Just lihethe
though; he allers wasi'one of‘the ‘
men that ever did live.” 7 ‘ ' ,.
“And did he come on, purpose to 
Gramél”, "  i _ " 7  .-
“ Yes, Lidd ‘ was sitting at the  1’ ,
he walked rig t blend in God himself; 
here, I’was worried almost» to death
didn’t 'see him. You see, my dear, t t”  '.
and I usedto be the best of  7* '
danced mung time with him, in the  
M‘°"°’£§a mam“ "gTi‘thtlima “dd”  
we were y o ‘  ,.
about what thedeaconsaid.”  ,y l   ‘
“Wellissisghe wéllingdtliaét Sinclair   ,
marry .rame ant'o 
"_ stalittle bit anxious as shim " 

1, on. . , . , “" 9;"

“Well. I ess m,” the widow re lied,  '-
ﬁdently. ‘ ‘ (3wa he didn’t an p f 
either one wa or the other.” "  ‘
> “But, wha -was the renspn that he _
upon her? Idon’t‘ understand that.*.j.."‘ 
“Well now, that’s the. " j 

» whtcljlle affair” You egg, 2  f
w on an n’amesi ‘ I ' 
Sinclair we); inng marryt’lgﬁse " ‘3,ﬁjﬁﬂ
so the deacon 6 up and come right over: to 
what the girl was ike. ItJvas real 
ever did it. I don‘tsec Why'folks 
meddle with“ other Ego le’s business, do, ,' i
N93 Dalila ‘ dqmtehslowlyg ”
.wi our deep‘ ‘ rests, in orator 
‘ this hgdtatim; I  : '  

UL}:

 
ﬁlls .‘wiidever'mtb  ‘ l '

 
"* .  “‘," ...." ‘ ‘ 1

 ' hereiibut' they never made a
~   in all‘ their lives. Yea see, it
 '_ ' just the other'way. The deacon: came
 over tosee Liddy ’cos hes a‘ real live Yankee
. f‘ and got nat’ral curiosity. But he talked real
i r cod, and when he found out that Liddy didn’t
' gave a y friends or relatives, be up and told
';,;her the. if she wanted assistance or advice she
‘ i must come right to him. Now,
‘  I saywhat they like, but the deacon has got the
" ‘ real salt of the earth in his nature.”
.v 9“ Then I suppose that Sinclair will marr
this. Miss Grams pretty soon?” Delia sad ,
thou htfully.
3,  “, ell’I don’t know; there’s no telling, my
“dear,” t’ e widow said, with a he of the
head. ,“Liddy declares that there isn’t any
engagement'between her and Sinclan', but, as

w

Theg'mmg man thinks a good deal of her, and
'sh'e cos of him, thou h she won’t own it. 'But,
heifer-e long, I guess s e’ll ﬁnd out that she likes
him. '- Young girls. are very contrary with
their, dryers sometimes. I remember I used to
»'.\,jilSt.p gue the 'life'out of Gardner afore we
"were married." I don’t believe that I would
have ever consented to marry him, although I
, him better than any of the rest of the
, ws, but we were on a picnic one day down
9 fthei 1’00}, and he 0t me to go out sailing,
agdfvwhen he popped t e uestion for about the
{euthundredth time, and commenced to la h
ﬁlathimfas usual he grabbed me right by t e
Sarms, and says he, ‘If- you don’t sa yes, El-
 I swow I’ll souse you rightintot ewater,’
and i, hadon .m best silk dress. I kinder
fscreamed andiho lored a bit, ,and said " Oh,
.iil'osh, don’t 1’ and then I said ‘ yes’ afore Iknew
it. and, Delia, I got jestone of the best men
 ever-lived.” ' .
‘D‘elia'laug‘hed at the widow’s story.
“And younever regretted it?” i r
4‘ Foyer,” said the widow, emphatically; “ he
eves-e:  provider; and when he died, it jest
 away half my life. I don’t know what I
.5116qu Ihave done if“ it hadn’t been for Jerry.
'v ‘  like his'father, jest full of mischief,
at set  as theymake men nowadays.”
’» owis‘e 'i’" ‘ . _
.f‘ 9h, he’s w’gli thank you. He’s down to the
, ,  store, jest where he used to be, clerking
7), Gets forty dollars a month now and he
has full charge of .the store. " I s’pose e’ll be a
- farther there ’fore long. Jerry’s very saving;
; ,close‘on toa" thousand dollars in the

, ,'%anst ‘go new,” Delia said, rising.

“.5 . you step to tea?’

is i can’t; father Will expect me home.”

.xThe widow acconipanied Delia to the front

‘ivLoolrs like a thunder storm,” she said, glanc-

zup atjtheolouded sky. ' , . ’

“  can get home before it comes,” the

Isa" Delia,’._when are
ghettimefdr you,’ the Widow saidfsud-

 ,have‘m wait till somebody asks me,”
 Isaid laughing. . y I
s has alive! I see there’s fellows enough
, ,‘wouldbe‘ glad do that. I did hope, once
"airtime, that .you and Jer , ht makea
 tchr’ifthe-widow said, shrew y. ,
all,  tinge of color came into Delia’s pale

‘3‘" iii. 1‘  how; you can. Mrs. Gardner 1” shaex-
‘ “ r :Jerry never cared anythillg fol: m6,

glgggiifyour father hadn’t got so awful
 re}, ensuess' Jerry would ’a’ said some

’ ,‘but the money frightened him away.”
 it Was me more than the money,”
 withhightened color. “Well, good-

v.

 
ou going to get mar-

 
“ . _. f CHAPTER XX.
  i if it’ll °°“i§””‘°li and 1..
‘7 .111‘ 9 0W1! e a ass
  gate, took, a good logk u}; at the sky.
5‘ clouds were vex? lack indeed, and every
~  then the dar , oudsbanks opened and
'  113th came forth. ‘ a -
‘  foramoment. -
 better wait, a little bit,” the widow
  the door; “J will be up
,. '  ear: with anumbre la. in offer

 
, ” there’ain’t an umbrella, in the
 i, I, can rget‘home before. the storm
and; then .Delia, hurried on; the
Good-by, messes? meet

a“

;

 
.\~~.‘,

Delia; folks can i

“I? tell her, there’s no knowing what will happen. ,

 ii    . safest  steam.

lint thegheavens grew ‘ V
,' minute, and'by t e time she-reached the corner
" the rain came pouring down in big drops. , ‘ i

| Delia halted under a large tree which stood
! at the corner of the street. / >

5' “This will save me from getting wet,” she

f murmured, as she tookrefuge under the spread- h

ing branches.
And how it did rain! Downit came in great
, torrents: \ ' ' ,
i *Delia had been standing under the tree nearly
. a quarter of an hour, before the storm mam-
fested the slightest. intention of abatin its
force in the least, and then, thou h the rops
were not so large as before, still 6 rain came
dovvn steadily. r
“Oh, dear ” exclaimed the girl in dismay; “ I
wonder how Ion it’s going to rain like this?
Will I ever be ab e to get home?” ‘

the street, strug ling
! with an umbrella, for t e wind was quite igh,
and he. took refuge under the tree. _
\ He shut up the umbrella, and the two recog-
nized each other. .

“Oh, Jerry!” cried the girl, in evident de-
light at the meeting.

"Why, Miss Embden,,.how do you do?” ex-
claimed Jerry, for the man with the umbrella
was the ocery clerk.

.“Miss mbdenl” and Delia made aw
at him; “you’re getting very polite
sudden”, A ,

“Yes,” said J err , rather confused.

“ I should think hat between such old friends
as'ygg ,and I quite so much ceremony wasn’t

“Well, we' ain’t been uite such good friends
latel as we used to be,” c said, honestly.

“ ose fault is it? Not mine, I’m sure!”
Delia exclaimed, decidedly. , t

“ I see that it ain’t mine,” 9 said. ‘5 Fact
is, Miss—I mean Delic—theres uite a leetle
giﬁfbogrgnce between you-now and w at you used
. 0 - ,
d “ﬁtnwasn’t aware that I’d changed a great
e . , , . . .
“Well, I don’t say that you have changed,
bill}. théin circumstances have changed,” he ex-
p ame . ~ , . «

.“ That is, you mean that you’ve found some
other young lady whom {’01: like a great deal
better than you do me,” elia said, just a little

snappishly. . . , . .
V Jerry looked at her for a moment in astomsh-

he exclaimed
deﬁantly. “ I swow, if you say that ag’in, I’ll
. push you right out in the rain. ’
’ The girl did not seem to be a great deal
alarms at the threat. . _ .
‘ “Ah, that’s the way you always treated me;
you never were happy unless on were abusin
me,” and Delia’s eyes sparkl , and a shy 100
came over her face. ' -

i Then amen came u

face
of a.

meant. I,
“ You go to thunder now!”

know it,’ he said, indefense; “you use
treat me like sin, though.”

,“How long is it‘ going to rain?” she asked,
suddenly. ' , . " ,
“’ ut an hour or so I guess.”

“How am I going to get home?”

.“ Well, I’ll see you ome if ou’ll permit
me,” he said. "‘I uess the um rella is big
enough for two. e can go "jest as soon as it
holds‘up a little.” 3 _

“ I’m sure, I’m very much obliged,” she said;
and meetin- you here, for I‘don’t behave that

on would ave ever come to the house. You

vs never been. tosee me, Jerry, since I’ve
livedu on thehill.” . . v I . .

"“ We , Delie,I’ll spit it right out; I didn’t
know as I would be welcome.” Jerry spoke
honestly and bluntly. , V ,
‘ The girl'ﬂushedn at once.

“Jeremiah, have ever treated you in
manner that you should have dense to
. that we 24” she said, quite spitefully.

, “W , no I

lied, thoughtfully. ‘ "But then, you see, as
Isaid afore, circumstances have changed. Your
dadd ot‘ to be one of the richest men in town
and ain’t any thing but a clerk. :It was all
r' ht when you were only plain Delia Embden,‘
ols Skipper Embden’s daughter, takmg in
sewing and dressmaking fora 11mg; but now
that you’ve got to be- .Miss Embden With a bi
house on the hill and a pair of 10ng;tail
masses, 1 kinder conclud you see, that it was
’bout time for me to haul - my horns.” ' . ,
't'h“ ngl,r1nev1"e;% figgownﬁtjggi I canted any
  oi:  .  W011- . smegeowas
l lever  respond

some

 
.i
I.
1,.

“Delis I never abused you at all, and


witha grimace uponhisface. I
colored up red as ﬁre and the sharp
blue eyes sna ' s ' .
. “ Sinclair axtonis nothing to mel” she ex-

he’s paying attention to another  .‘ But

Dehe, he comes to your house pretty often, an

I heard

you mig t ﬁnd aw0rse husband thanﬁinc, ir
axton. I kmder thought he meant that as a

hint for me, and I’m like a well-brought-up.

. dog, Belle; 1 always 0 dowu-stairs when I see ,,

’em getting ready to ick me out.”

ago?” she asked. .
back and commenced to b ‘
th?‘ till? 1 th did t ‘
e a or wan me to marry, Sin.

clair ” she said, slowly. ‘. g _ .

“ s’ ose you was willing?”

“We 1, es,” and Delia’s face \
again. “ ow, J err , I ain’t going to tel you
a bit of a‘ "story. don}
should care 9. nuts for me.
cruel, heartless girl, but {I’m sorry for it; but
Jerry, my .
tellin me how much it would please him if I
wou
faults—”

chievously. i 
“ No I ain’t!” she cried, quickly; “ you know
better than that. But I’ve wanted to see you.

I’ve only just found it out.” ,
“I found it out a long time ago,” cruel Jerry
drew her close ? to his side.
“ Oh, don’t, e
, you, what would t
monstrance. v

, “ there ain’t anybody round; it’s almost pitch

so good that I must hug
,bu’Sll l” x ’ ..

“But, Jerry, do you real] care for meafter
all my meanness?’ she ask ; looking up 1h his

face. _ \
“$87811 I guess I do. We him:

an e

berg. éhe understood what'he wanted. "

you a little or

up!‘ 0b,. dear! ’ she remonstrated. , _
“I swow I must have a’kiss, Delie, jest so as
to make .me believe that this is all reall” A
“There,” she said, asvshe held up her lips to
him, and put her arms around his neck.

A good, hearty smack Jerry imprinted 
red #ps of the girl. ‘ ‘ ‘ -
“ ow I hope
gear,» sheYsaid, re easin 651er n” #1
race. ‘ ouve cramp 'my co 
pushed my but half oﬂf, ands—3’ 0M” x

 
“I think that it’s quite fortunate, this storm »

suohta'
' 11.1

can teay as you have,” he re- \

., , ed,'shyl¥ir in I. ,,
W heathen-W dOilr elm. WWI

ii Let; us go, then.”

.bothstarted ' '
“ You
asked, as they walked on through 6
“Yes, I s’

father say 3” asked, doubtfullv.

late! .
time.y

He hasn’t been well for e

that he would have been a great deal happier.”
noes; at the same- time . L jest as bet, is
somebody would throw a ton or two
you’ve got already?” she asked.

“ Hain’t got much, Dene—that is, not much

Mug to have me, ain’t You!» ' _

 
claimed. . . . ,. ' ,
“Glad toihear you say so, ’cos I know that L 

your father say once that he th int

it When did my father say that? How‘long‘. ‘, -.,

“Oh, a long time agomust after he came 7. 
d the house up on -

gotve‘re‘d.

deserve that you, ‘
I’ve been a real .

“Chock full of ’em!” Jerry observedpmis-j

I’ve been“ acting real mean lately, Jerry, and g
continued, and he quietly put his arm around, -
the slender waist of the blushing damsel and

. Ifthe folks should see , ', v
ey think?” she said, in re-  

dark, too. But, Delie, you’Ve made me heel:

of us?
Delia ” and he bent down to
“ Don’t, Jerry! you’ll crumple my collar  '

ou’re satisﬁ ' you' great .

when reckonedag’in’ what your daddy’s got.” '» ‘
a w 

"Widths. eased; oaths 
;_e:s nc~  Yo  
- womenfb 'fﬁmﬂoﬁlslig, t 
 Jerrysto   spentthetv 
xDaddyE   ‘_    

K .

head was” turned, and father kept ' ‘

So under the shelter of the umbrella they“ 1-"
can stopto teawith me Jan Webs, 
I could, but what ,willfyour .  7

“Oh he’ll be glad to see you!” she I, ,r 4 
quickly. “Father has changed a 
r, ‘ 0118 '

darker and darker [reach  Polite!)  if 59  "  ' 
. ’Jerry asked,
t The girl

marry Sinclair, and I know I’ve‘ got my ‘  i

“ Folks be darned!” he exclaimed, deﬁantly-y  V i' ‘

“ What’s the matter?”yhe asked, inaStonish-  i 

ment.
“Same drops of rain" havedripped’ fromﬁhe ,  - ‘
tree and run .an flown my back, ’she replies
5 shiveringu -’ i . ' ‘ '
, u Never mind; you’ll be home soon; the rain
‘ is holding up.” ' I

Do you know, Jam, 1 m mam”?   ,
that he hadn’t made so much money; I think , =

“Mebbe so; riches don’t always bring ha pi.  . r,

of n- ,

backsatme. I’ddomybestto‘wrastle’ Wm.”  
. “Ain’t you satisﬁed With the fortune that,  '

“QWeH. I don’t know; am I?” he said, ‘ do... a ,, " 
o . x 7 _ ,. , a g 
“Dayan eggse I should have let-you  me , 

     
Hg N‘i


,. ,1. I

 
\  i I.   

- r l ‘ \

 
r "    f” , seem, 'f’mweet'inetoeeref)  ‘oa”she:atlength‘ 1 em as PriMLYGU-"ﬁbildt " foreseen; :
. . » ' o .   remgkea,  U ,y  y "  constru onenhlput’uponyouractione‘ﬁ- ﬂ ‘ -~
“ “News QUESTION- .  es,‘I;know that.” »  d ' m “ 3,11,58inclair, I am 111 such a 
m I v sink 4 " - I 'upp0se that is the reason wh , o are '01! -8 epuimmﬁdo ' 7 . '  v ‘ l:
warm €3be afbell'ﬁgsllet 11% ﬁggtwﬁﬁ willing to discontinue your. visits?” y 3f r , “ A ternbhe position!” he said, 111 wonderif‘l‘, .
1y hot all day and the good peeple of Biddeford i» u N“ at an, to? I have 9' mos“ deemed ' belief V donnOt mdersmnd how that canibe'” ‘ 3 -~ "'
and Sacohad suffered accordingly. that £1221}? car: W 3:95  mmgrecisily the luwalglf I could ‘mly Speak!’ ’She cried,  'Z
' - - - we. wan on . mc ' econ- - ‘ i. ‘ _  e

The Widow wane]. and Ly 18‘ were 81mg y y e ' 8pc “And why not? Surely You can trust me.

i h' kin e 1' ﬁdentl ~’ , ' . . . "
’ ..v3h%if§ing1§irlo§exi§n°§e$§%nt€§e lstrmgei den’ Lift}; looked in his fecein utterestonish- Speal‘fgreelm Behave me, L wﬂl keep you 
_ u : 1- . . - I - men ' I , ‘ . seem . _ V p 1 I  M .
mg,GMiss aﬁﬁgﬁi lggidGa; vhgrhalgtedoo‘lgggfe “ Why, what makes you say that?” she uked.

 
‘  I , the Eggs: and leancig. eefmlesﬂyonhthe fiance.   ixggg f} CHAPTER XXI]; .  x g
,, . evening, r. axton e W1 ow .re- “Are on qureof it?” the Gun , rim IVORY PORTRAIT. » - ' '
, - - mm- . mans man- i . .7
 ,g%le%ogli1éle Lydm‘ contented flame“ with ' ner wasy exceedingly conﬁ ent.g “ Suppose I FQR *1 little way. the, two walked on in 
g X Ain’t 1,; hot?» the widow continued, tam prove toyou that it is true?” ' ‘ Lydia seemed lost 1n thought and Paﬁrton

n' herself vigorously. “You can not do so!” the ‘ 1 exclaimed, watched her dowucast face eagerly and earn— I V.

 
 u - v - _ quick] , and et there was a la of conﬁdence 05b Y- ~ V » p ;
_ in Ar: :33: gig; tvggﬁufggﬁglgﬁffdmgegsﬁg in herytone; y “Well, will you not speak?” he said, after a . ‘
“neri’i V ‘ e ’ th“tYou (have 1itlold me tgletzty timrels at least loggspause. thvtth re _  . I be-t ée ﬂaw V”.
N - . a you 0 no ove rue-— 9. cu o respect» uppose a e is a. rrier. .w n   :V
thmigkt £131; s‘ﬁguﬁ’egg? y ﬁﬁtﬁnﬁﬁné me as a friend.” ‘ y p y I she said, slowly; “ suppose that it IS unposszble' e
"  on going  evening,  ' “ Yes, and  is the  ” but the girl “15‘ E fog me to  you-1": . _ ' . x‘ ’ _ J F .V
i. o it ismwarm‘» . tered the speech as though she fully expected ; , HOW can that be? Smclalr asked, m 
“ o’w would ou like to take a little walk be- hlm “0 Prove that 11? W88. not- I ‘ 5 13111391117 and ' for 5119 ﬁrst time he appeared
fore'dark Miss rame?” he asked. “I think “‘You mean that You believe it to be true?” i tro‘uble . e ' I  >
that we ceuld possiblyﬁnd a breeze on the hills . ‘.‘ Why, I amvsure 1- ought to _know whether .There may be twenty reasons, any» email
by the stone quar ’ » ' 1t 15 true or not.” Lydla loves Just a little be- which would render our union-1m 1 16.";

“Yes, there may be,” he sai ,‘dmibtf, >
“but ou‘do not say that there is.’ ' .
“ y force me to say cruel words? I wish .
to s are you pain,” she said, earnestly. ' p 5 
_ “ (ydia, if there is really a reason why‘r‘vei
shoul not come together, you have not acted" '

rightly in this matter,” he said, gravely. _ g: . ' 

“ ' d I’; cried the widow without Wﬂdered at 171,19 m, “1191‘ Of 739110va .
V i givim €096 to reply. u It m’n do you "‘Twen’ty times you have told me, ‘ Ido not
» good; you ve been out of sorts all day. I’ll love Youa. and twenty times the moment after
get your hat.” And Mrs. Gardner hastened your 301710113 have C°n°.m°.ed “19 You do 10W 1
away. , V I mez ﬁr, at least, care a httle for me.”
  11353119 had been hﬁgtheiselfdighe gar} Wguld “ Dgniafrfgarupt me, now Lydia please
, ’ ‘ , ' e w . . 7 ’ ' ' 1- - e '
“T ' PrXSOEztcuged mmetontgzosowhe: the widggv retulsrngd Walt 1mm” am through,” he said, ﬁrle- “f- ‘I know “3’ ma.“‘ ‘15. that Which m Lam"
- . with, ham. but she moldy put it on. left the do not doubt that, in your heart, you think of miserable”. She said sadly. “I was 90,311, Y‘ r.
' house, and mo’k Singairis proffered am” me only as a friend and never in the light of a I, 111 Your somety that W35 110? OQW' 0f; ',
' The. ﬁwo walked down the Street together poss1ble husband. flow I am going to convince a dang91‘ t0 WEIICh I Was exposmg b01511 0f 38»? It
’  while the widow watched them with admiring’ you that You have really mistaken Y0” f9?" was “‘9 Sa‘hng °n a” stream mm the“ as?

9.,“

 
Lg,  .l 1. eyes. ‘ ‘ “gigs, and thaghygu do logetrﬁle agittle, and ma 1 one glidetshalongtgncgnsgious of V t gain the.
or“, - u i - - cancesare a,oneo ese 's on wi -l‘_0a1‘0. ewa 1‘ ﬁsmgu ‘1 9 team“. 
L; . _' ;makseai7l7{esshglé;2iaigllégf 8’ mce ample they "nu care for me with all the passion yhu’r 3heart is ' POCkS “865 upon the 921?, and tggn,
 é ~.- 5 Sinclair and Lydia walked slowly on. " 0a able of feeling” ' ' the embrace °f “19 “‘19, em?" ’3 9‘ 9":

 ' “Have you-been ill to—day?” he asked ' ‘I do “01" think you can Prove this by my Blame‘me for an» that has  an"
 4 ' “Oh no not ill and yet not feeling very actionsi”‘5he said, doubthHY- . my fan“?- I Saw that you were angﬁo’
,. *  lwéujl, ’ ’ d ’ i “ Iain going to try,” he responded. “ But it : care for I119, bUV'HeaVen he]? “19!” bad 
z  ,i j .  i “The walk will prob-ab] do you God, than.” I succeed the victory will be a costly one to me » the courage to warn you of your en?  

. r u - - . for in the future on will be on our ard an “Lydia you  riddlése ‘ ’ I 7  “59K.
 _, . , .my  ﬁgﬂoﬁghﬁgx macs: that that will deprive§n160f a_great goal ogiu ‘leasure m6 ifﬁhel‘é be any mason which Pram?“ '
“ ‘ ' ” Gardner ,wonder, ‘I should not have acéepted' Whlch I now enloy- I ﬂunk I fully “‘1 “Stand wrung“. ' 

  >  your escort ” A 3.2111, 111, digiiisitl is 570%? ’wjilﬁ mic)er heart, ‘fEhere is~thene is!” ‘The voice was 
 x,“ 3, ' - e ‘ - . wic or ove. ow en ': ou W811 ‘ r ' M V  -
L » r- ,iiprigdeggxy 1?; 1,8111: glggonlgf) ked “wnmhed’ have other gentlemen friends hesidesggysyelf, “ “35.,th explain” \ » i :'  ’
' ‘5 ’, ‘~ Do’you' want me town on frank} g” of course; Jerry Gardner, for one.” "‘ 0 it 1? 150.0 dreadhll-” , ~ - .  "
.\  ‘ “I hov ‘that on will, nzver ea in an “Yes,” - By t is time the two had reached the 
, ' other wape with 139 n he said um?) ave] .y “ How many times has Je kissed. you!” The sun was  RIOWIY behind 'the’ .
 “.‘Youinow that, ‘our father hasgrbeenyto see “ 0h, Smelail‘ 1” the bone-0 Pain tom fully horizon line' ' 7 l ' l  1 
y ' ﬁne?» she asked" sud’aenl V , how deeply the girl was hurt by the question. “ L617 118 Climb 11? 139 the top Of the rocks: W
;  ‘ is Yes ’7 Y‘ ‘ .h “ You dong angmger; gog’t you reply, Please?” a soot: hogr gftgayhfhf/ get,”  .’ 
_ 1,... - 9 say on u wj mness, can s1 an 0 a or wen yor y mmu’ V
g - xseélggg, You know the reason Why 113 0‘99 to ‘f Wﬁygdo 35:6!) ask such a question?” the girl and then have plenty of time to go homemf
V ‘t 1 db.” , , \ - said and tears isr arkled in her dark eyes. dul'k.”~ ' '

 
V‘ . “E ~ - - Dam “ must ask it- why don’t you reply? It’s Slowly theyclimbed to the top of'the'hﬂiéand?
toga-£33233 lghggdgzaogdngmggrdo 80?: simple enough. ﬂow many times has Jerry sat down upon some huge rocks whisk 

' L an - . - Gardner kissed on?” out of theground. c g ~ ..  
L; V that shfﬁafffnmgﬁlgy  DIES, 3”. 13:11; “Never, in a lhis life!” exclaimed the girl, “ Come 1102‘“, make mercurconﬁdwtleﬂie
-  A quickly. I, he said, coaxxngly. “I cannot b’ I  .
'   l ‘5 And‘ on blame me for this?” he asked. “ T1191“ 9’ nOWa that’s the answer,” and a quiet behave that there “any 9‘13“ any . r v v  
, '   hinted for a moment, looked into imﬂe‘appe‘ged 0&3? £303: “Iéowmlzltlmes tviﬁi‘m”. ' ,, be said'  :’ ~  =
_  ~ » 1 - as an 0 er 1 eor or one en eman eremone -.8 .33513- J « 1'
I  of .her companion, then slowly kissed you?” - I g «Teume wha’t “is, End’s” how, - ;

Hyou ‘ “W y do you ask such questions?” L die ﬁnd8 way 130.0’91'1959 it: ImnM’Wet  ,‘ 
e no}: ﬁigtmedgmme “mgzg’fggﬁggﬂﬁ exclaimedgetulggetlyﬁ “lye one has eVer  inlaid 11101133; removes 9- 3m“ many 
yom-w, ' , ' mesince ave n ere. ,, ~ eWOr  ‘_ u j, 3.
to see you?” rill-.333: 130$: 3,1,33,11,33,“. 23$: “Except Sinclair Paxton,” he said, a. volume ‘_‘ Yes, on are main and I; am poor,” 
(“Mm and 81““; not the SH htest trace of oz. of meaning in the words. sWerod, poking the leaves listlewy'tremgw
citement. ' . g ' A moment Lydia looked him in: the face, and Shrﬁb Whleh, W by the W190! the  .- r
, “What if I say that in is?” the girl asked then her gate sunk tothe ground, and aburnin "Is that t reason?”  demanded. "a
slowl ,and With evident hesitation . blush swe t over her pale cheeks and forehead? cause if 117?. W13 08-11 Weaslly‘m‘medieé”,
 i “I you do notwishme to em u'pon yau_if “You gave ,freely elded to me your fore. Noﬁt isnotthat.”  ~, 
.- you Wish our friendship task, “is only ne_ head, your eyes, an your cheeks, reservmg “ W when?” ‘ i-v . ,. l _,
cessary' for you to say so an 1 shall most”. only your lips, and yet you coldly tellme, ‘I , suppose “13.5194? P-lres‘d ' ,, '_;  ,.
’ 1, / suredly endeavor to CO 1y with your wishes.» do not love you—you ara only a, friendfand ex- did not look Sinclair 1n the ace 88v  p.  I;
,_ f;- V V Lydia seemed perplex . ' She winked on to: pect me to believe it.” I -- question, but kept her eyes ﬁxed. 
" " e [a few minutes in sﬂence; then she suddenly f‘Oh Sinclair, on ,are so cruel!” the girl ergtmd. , 4' ,- v ‘ 'w   .r
: I'sgoke, stealing a sly glance at Sinclair’s face as sand blushin deep y. ‘ v ' . . , Let 1116 1001! 111 your. GYGBiLYdiEi 
a edidso. -  i / . “No, no, ydia. not cruel; him only Just.” qweﬂye . e V , » V , .   e
. “The people speak of us as if we were engag. he answered. “ wfou have compelled me to SIOWIY She raised her head and  

 
 ,  ed lovers.” this. You hairereally, to a. certain extent, had In???” ulgm into his feces .;  j»  »
’ ‘  “Y Iknow that; and now will on m j .me on. It was in our power to ve stopped 'Ifhahs not the Teﬂon. Lydia;   »
T me. tease]: you a question?” ' .y ‘ . t this affair right at t beginning. @011 have re- married,” he said, , conﬁdently.  ’ 

i H Cain ‘nl .” ‘ \, f ,  ‘ gejVed 'm attentions, (30QO that. they “You_ think so?”  Said, deeply)! ' a
. “39.17211 eyver actadin such a manner as to tended o ytoone end, maximum now , 8115} 388m she loqked-down “Foam? = ,
 lead anyone tosuppose that we were engaged?) say, stop. But, Lydia, you do not'mean w at , “I 8'13 Sm"901 m Mayan/reason. 
3 “No, I suppose not,” the girl onded, you‘say, orelse you have acted With me ins gﬁmﬁhﬂttl had committed  V
' slowly; “only that yom'visita 133mm to.  thategir should not act with eman “if” v  ,  . 
them” W, ‘ . » ' h I “mssgiintgnﬁgmmmw ﬁlm W,” .. ,3, m, «téfmwgsumméieiieuem v -
evenneer egeguﬂ'; $3.33?“ W“ ’ . myrﬂlﬁvgly. .iq' ‘  i ‘ i .1: ' an; .i;g§c;fvém bee?" 001d and 
 ‘ lLYdieﬁessilentfor-‘quitealopg time: ‘4 .- .  you.'vasea;,whioh.,  ‘thin.    n v v.  1 v _ _ .- V ;   
  on knoiemieee _ on i  that that Wouldg‘axoueeéﬁeﬁntitImmune»  3% We?” he cried ,Hehﬁy-r ism
nanometer.rsuﬂxﬁhej wwhmh you?   e   *  .  i  “hm-shims ‘T ‘

s.

    
. \ r

,v

  
‘ J . , _. y I‘ v:
\ l , ’ u I

 
my” new that if ou'will 
 me, I ~éwin>Mkc’3}:ou almostwit out
 ,n ‘

,xraiSéd her
"to'his face. /

iLydia’,’ but ’I sometimes fancy that I am a great

smiling. , . '
'1 ji‘,‘~“‘_Let"us'go home now,” and she rose as she

e. i ,
A - The-red glare of the settingsun came full upon
the rocky summit and seemed to crown the head"
pf the girl with a halo of 1i ht.
7‘ As Smclair gazed upon er he thought that
 never seen her look so lovely before.
..   sprung lightly down the rock—led e—
"twas_ some three eet descent—and turns to
odor his hand to the girl. ‘ -
Jr “ I can jump,”.she said, and she sprung from
the, » rock, bu as she came down, her ankle
[twisted under her, and with a moan, rung‘forth
by acute pain, she sunk down in afaint upon the

     
i’;,r:Sinciair was at her side in an instant and
.‘lmeelmg, raised her head from the ground and
supported it upon  knee.
very. portrait which was sus ended from her
' v a blue ribbon, slipped rom its place of
4: ment in her bosom.
,, .d’he ieceof ivory lay u on Sinclair’s knee,
:thﬁe‘jpic, sin plain sight. 6 Could not be]
,but see it. A jealous

heart when he, saw that It was the picture of a
 handsome man. ,
‘,- “He little tmie for reﬂection, for “’twas but
eminent before Lydia recovered her senses.
,  ff"  afraid-that I have s rained my ankle,”
’she-_ue‘.id,.asshe raised her ead,then her eyes
i,  the rait dangling from her bosom,
‘j a ‘ck, t ﬂush came over her face.
‘ﬁltcamls from the bosom of your dress when
printed,” he said, a little constraint visible in
. . __ manner. ’

' e‘fYou have looked at it?” she asked, leaning
backiaigninsﬁthe rock. . 4
5‘: Yea}! could not hel doing so, as it la _ upon
 Lydia, hast t portrait any t 'ng to
 this mystery which seems to surround

“Yes,” she answered. ' r
‘ " I confess I am curiéus,” he said, slow-

Is that the portrait of a brother?”

9N0: I-«neyerhad a brother.”

 then the portrait of a lover—a bus-

"has   rlfs face ﬂushed but she did not re 1 .
 not answeizl” he persisted. - p y

r :N ,, , \ .
‘ Sinclair gazed into the face of the

 {he cried, suddenly, “I will trust
siren» thpugh you’do not speak. Let me

., 1113‘s: ' .1
» ‘ ‘ ,[ sprained her ankle quite badly, and
only walk with difﬁcult .
  ' half—carried her down the hill, and
H , hing the level ground they pausedto rest
  ,’ you do not ask me to tell you
fpictmfe this is which I  in my
1, .  said, leaningl heavily on is arm,
. a...  up full into is face with her dark
We,  carotoknow,”he re lied; “m‘y
ism In your owu g ' time you
 w I _ ‘ 4 .
  of, a love like yours ” she
 W? ,  tact bgtterthatlyoilllls pug
.‘, r ‘n r .so vov
2333,30; I will go onward,” he replied, care-i"
[a

 
nd if you can be won; I’m the man
. WWW” ,
_ rmehaw Ivcan persuade you to stop?”
ﬂed. earnest15’— ‘
 is only one way,” he answered grave-

 isl”.
ﬁghting, eﬂect a cure.” I
kill y

 
, not:  1:063!!! ﬁlm: I” dshe exclaime
 ring.» ;= w e a 'miscOnstrue

 ‘f I mean that.it will be so painful r
g, e'tcrspeak'the' words which will surely

 r. '
* Mideast doubt that,” he said Smiling;

 
! .
a

   
I

 
you do love me 1” she exclaimed, and [she 
large eyes, now moist with tear-drops, 

ng shot through ms

5

‘ “ﬁYes’, I do; men say that I am an icicle, 5 I \
' some future time.” She spoke half in jest, half-
rdealmore like a slumbering volcano,” he said, earn t -

As he did so, an’

 
!
1

l

i

. tohimself, as be cooled his rage an his

Wincame that you are really unworthy ,
‘ ‘so‘hard for me to dothat!” she re- V

‘Ayo‘uthat mean never be men and , heard

 lgﬁear  (spas, as; 'I' shall hel- .
will”  the,  _ ,

'the ivory miniature from its hidingeplace in

.teéred to stretch forth a hand to save him.

sneak!

it a. an m the; as; was at

as;
house. Her anklehad got much better, uring :
,the walk. - . I" " ' . ,

The two stood together in theborch. ! . l
“ ' -n1ght,” he'said, and he bent down as f
if to klss her cheek. ‘ ’ ’ f
“ If I' let you do that, you will tell me of it at ?

es .

r“ You forced me to tell you,” he replied;

Slowly the check was raised to meet his 1i s.

“ might,” she said and assed into is 9
house .while he departed down t e street.

Lydla bound up her sprained ankle and went
to bed earl that night. ‘

Before 5 e extinguished the light, she drew

her bosomand kissed it again and a sin; and
yet, when sung in bed and the lig extin-
guished, another face ﬂoated before her eyes, a.
ace that bore the impress of the Saco-Indian
blood, and as her senses reeled to dreamland,
her lips murmured: .

“ Dear, dear Sinclair I”

 
CHAPTER XXIII.
DAISY AT BAY.

PROMPTLY at the time appointed, Hollis was
on the got where he had arranged to meet Mr.
Daisy rick, but that gentleman did not make
his a nce, and after waitin an hour or so
for him, the carpenter began to lieve that he
did not intend to keep the appointment when he
had made it.

“ Curse him!” muttered Hollis, in a rage; “ I
ought to have strangled him when .I had my
hands on his‘ throat.” ’

The nter was pretty well under the in-
ﬂuence o liquor, and his patience was not re-'
markable even’when sober. '

His acquaintances in the town had noticed
that, for awsek or so, Hollis had been drinking
very hard. In fact, it had become quite a nov-
elt to see" him sober. '
verybody said that Jed Hollis was going to
the devil as fast as he could, but no one voltm-

Hollis fumed and raved as he strode up and
down, waiting for Brick to come.
Finally he lost what little patience le‘had.
“ 1’11 0:0 after him!” he cried, "the mean
’Ho’n ﬁnd he can’t make a fool of Jed
Hollis. .He’s got to tell me what I" want to
know, and if he don’t I’ll smash him, that’s all.”
1 ,And with this threat, he started to ﬁnd Brick.
Up and down the streets of Biddeford, Hollis
went, but no trace of Brick could he ﬁnd. ' ' i
At last the carpenter tool! up his stand in front .
of the ﬂies. He had worked himself up
into a. rrible rage. One thing only afforded
him any consolation, and that was the thought
of how he would demolish Brick the moment he
could _ get his hands upon him. ,v
Hollis saw that the slippery gentleman had
tricked him, but inwardly he vowed that he
would fully square theac‘count at the ﬁrst meet— ‘

 
1n . ~ , -

The carplenter had inquired .of' two or three
whom he t ought likely to know something of
Brick, as to‘ his whereabouts, but the inquiry
was fruitless. He could not gain any informa-
tion whatever; ,

“ Oh, 'won’t I smash him!” he. he t repeating

eels on.

the post—oﬁice corner»

At last Hollis‘ came to the conclusion that he
mi ht aswell. 9 home. _, The carpenter boarded
wit an aunt 0 his, just on the outskirts of the

town. .

‘ Slow! , ' and still keeping a good look-out
about 1m, Hollis proceeded homeward. ,He
had an idea now that he had ‘ven up his search
for the missing Mr: Brick, t at by accident he
mi ht stumble n n him. ,

n accident—t e wonderful helper to fortune
in this life—did befriend the desperate man. At
the very ﬁrst corner that hepurned he beheld the
elegant ﬂ re of Dalsy Brick, Esq, proceeding
leisume own the street.

The carpenter at once gave chase.
Buck’s attention was sudden] attracted -
the sound of the heavy footsteps hind him. 9

looked around andsaw hisenemy. .
 “ I’ve got you!” the carpenter cried, in

5

h ' .
*But oliis’ “ gave tongue” too soon. ‘ !
Brick Was some tWenty paces from him, and
the moment he recggmzed the carpenter and
his ' ' 9'0ut,hetooktohisheels
ﬁ‘hdund; \ i. w:
.crﬁdﬂﬂha, in arage. He:
 Brick; stays:

    
felt‘netfttlﬁl?‘Wf"

‘1
fr’

   
‘ with eyes

NW"

trouble of "running after him. v ,
, Theo nter was noted among the
lows of- t ‘e town for hisskilllin ma y sports
gird rather prided himself on his ﬂeetnessyo

cot. _ ‘ , - I .
But Jed Hollis of twenty-eight, and Jed Hollis

‘ of twenty-one, were two very different persons.

: The carpenter had been a hard drinker for the ,;

past three or four years, and continued struggles -

with “John Barleycorn” don’t improve a man’s If

wind, and do impair his stamina.

.AWay went Brick, and away went Hollis after  ’

him. * . .
The wonderful foot~race through the quiet
streets 01 Biddeford would have undoubtedly

attracted a great deal of attention, but as it   1  *
late—past tenwnearly'all of the go'od people had 9 .

gone to bed. ._ >

To his utter astomshment, after chasing Brick
for a short time Hollis discovered that he was
losing ground. He groaned in rage, and ‘dashed

on at his utmost strength; but there again, Jed -

Hollis, full of liquor, was not Jed Ho ‘s quite

   
 the fugitive: houl‘dz put  f  I '
I Iyoung fe1-’ '. '

  
\

 
 s

V _ . 1-2% alums.»

sober; and Brick, Whose fear lent wings to his .

heels, and who never once looked behind him,
soon left his angry pursuer far behind.

Around a corner went Brick, and when Hol~ ‘ K

lis reached and t112'=~."rl the corner,_ he could not
even hear the soul/.1 of the fugitwe’s ﬂying
footste s.

Hollig, out of ‘breathfand chock-full of rage, ..

halted on the corner for a few moments and re—
lievod his mind by cursing Brick, up hill and
down, as the saym is. Then a bright idea
ﬂashed into his mud led brain.

Might not Brick be hidin
the street? -

If so, that would account for the sound of his
footsteps ceasin ,- for that he had been ableto
run clear out of gaming, the'enraged man could
not believe, So he slowly went u one side of
the street and down the other. over.

red
all the fences and into all the'gardens, buthe A
was not destined to be successful at this, e ‘

of hide and seek. Trace of Brick he coul not
ﬁnd. 80 be halted again on the corner, and
amused himself by swearing at the an who
had proved himself to be the better runner.

And after this little episode, Hollis again
turned his steps homeward. ‘ He had reluctant—~

g somewhere along ‘ l

\ \

1y come to the conclusion that he was not fated ' ‘ '

to have an interview with Mr. Daisy Brick that
night. But the chapter of accidents was in' the
car nter’s favor. - Y 2 . ’

e had turned back—~fbr the chase had led
him away a little from his direct road heme-
ward—-—and was proceeding by the shortest way
to his abode, when, as he turned the 0

street, he came face to face with Brick.

ornerof a

That worthy gentleman had, in reality, com—  ‘

pletely run away from the carpenter, and after 1

going two or three blocks, had madea detour-to
get back to the center of the town again, never
reaming that there was any danger of meeting
the man whom he was so desirous of’avoi’d‘ing.
“Aha l” cried Hollis; in
ward to seize Brick; but ,

anywas nefless
quick than the nter.

He gave aboade

Ely. springing for,— i '

out into the middle of the street and, as Hollis - '

came after him, drew a révo Ver from
pocket and leveled it full at his enemy.

The ca
ll of re.
did not rush upon t
eled' at his heart.

but, angry as
6 little shining barrel lav-3

nter paused, glancing u on Brick 1’
e was, he- ~

his. ‘

“Keep elf!” cried Brick, in a tone which . I

Showed that he did not consider the aﬂair to be.

. - . u '
% 1101mg matter. keep om” be repeated, “or,

“131:1; a ball  hgfllirough you!”
, g   7 ‘ \ 011?”   ‘ "
most beside himself with rag? ’ a1
“ I’m in earnest now'
off me, or you’ll get h
“ Why didn’t you keep
p“ I never intended to,
1y. ‘/‘ I don’t relish appointments
men.” I
“ I’m not mad.” . '
“ Well, you’re drunk; it’s all the same.”
“Ain’t
this ' ll’ - .
‘1‘ 1! "see dyou in the bottomless pit ﬁrst!”
Brick replie without an instant’s hesitation.
_ “ I’ve t th
Impala, aging his tone to one of entreaty'. "

with mad:

0

this Secret, that, by the use cf it,
pel  Grams to marry you?’ v
“ 1es, that is what I wan"! Hollis replied,
,‘ er ' r ' r '
bitd’,’ ou‘w‘ould  as aw
Mermaemﬁhsvsa;

fore),

‘4;

 
1gust keep your halide

,you going to tell me the. secret about

A.

e hundred dollars for you,” Hal; _.  I

Look here, my friend; you think if yOu get 7 i ‘
youcan r .,
Brick asked; 9 v ' '

ngl,‘if you  it; it wouldn’t help’ your“;  3‘ V-
Bewpy.»- from; any .vv ,-

your appointment?”  ‘
Brick replied deﬂante r

      
.- , cried, angrll

 
I}  ‘,astho

 "  wode

 
‘ "if. p
if: ‘Jlr‘éng " j” .V f V (p    .‘ r r 1' l ‘ V. a ‘l
x .“I know ydu’re lying!” Hollis ct‘ied,fsull,cnl‘y. ‘g
"‘ You lie when you say so!” Brick  - ‘

“ What?” and the carpenter made a motion as

if to ad‘Vance upon Brick, but the latter quickly

, retreated a few steps and the glitter'of his eyes
told of danger. « , ., . \
“You’ll get it now, ﬁrst thing you know l”‘he

“ I was a. £301 that I let you go when I had
you down by. the quarry!” Hollis said, men-
acingly. -

“You won’t catch me a second time’ that

i way,”'Brick replied.
to town I invested in this revolver, so as to be
prepared for you.”

‘ I’ll ﬁx you yet!” the carpenter said, and he
set his teethﬁrmly together.

“I give you fair warning that, if you attack
, me, .I’ I shoot you down just the same as  would

” a mad dog. I don’t propose to fool with any
such man as you are.” _ _

“ You won’t tell me the secret about this girl,
then?” Hollis said, slowly. .

“ No, not-much!” Brick replied, deﬁantly. _

"/I’ll ﬁnd it out yet, and I’ll get even With
. you, too, see if I don’t!” and with the parting
Salutation, Hollis turned his back upon Brick

. and walked away.‘ i » I . -

Daisy watched him for a moment, and then
Went on his course, keeping a careful look-out
behind him, lest the enraged man should take

. him by surprise.
CHAPTER XXIV.
nun! [EMBDEN mks COUNSEL.

 ' 1’an Emanuu had been in ill health for
. some little time. He was nervous and fretful,
’ started at shadows, and the mere jarring of a
door or window was quite sufﬁcient to throw*
him. into a fever. To Delia’s suggestions of a
doctor, the old man would shiver ,and rather
crossly intimate that there wasn’t any thing the
‘ matter with him. ’
_ , But the clear-sighted Delia knew better. The
old man was growing thinner and thinner each
day. It was plainly evident that some secret
care was weighing upon his mind. Peleg Emb-
den, the millionaire, was not the man that Skip—
ri Eamon, of the good schooner Nancy Jane,
a n.

v The moment that night came on the old man’ head. '
“ Poseibly you miss the sea and the active life- -

' ’ would sit down before the
into the darkness. \
Delia, who watched him closely, could hear

- him muttering commands as though once; more
" on the deck of the coasting schooner. Then he
Would imagine that he saw a light swinging in
arkness, a signal and ive instructions to have

window and gaze out

 it answered; spea of t 9 turn of the tide and

WGrk' himSelf 11 into a fever of anxiety. . Then

.hevwould cry, ‘There the rocket; Heaven

have mercy on his so i”, and shiver and shake
ugh stricken with an ague ﬁt. Just at this

Point the daughter would interfere, get the old
man awa from the window and. set him down
by the ta.  “Anduat the ammonia the curtain
“W88 drawn demand the darkness shut out, he
himself again.
Delia noticed that these strange fancies never

«

.' ﬁgmoked her father in the daytime: it was only
3". ht, gazing out into the darkness, that he

am of the schooner. But, sometimes,
i. 11.8.. 6 day, he would give way to odd fan-
,zl‘v’si 31nd Put mch strange questions that Delia
rem ﬁled for her father’s reason. But, as a
gene? thin t hi,9.seemecl sane enough; so the

l daughter , her fears to herself. ‘
OR MONEY event! ﬂatter supper the old

. ggglxilleﬁnfnPann: intention of calling

‘ a But when Delia saw) her fa' . .
and ham saw mam. “unaware

it alarmed her. _ .
""_ You are not gomg out to walk, father?” she .
said in remonstrance. .
“ es, of some,” he- answsred‘ “mebbe it will '
i do me ood to go over the river.“
‘ ’ ,“- Bu o'u had better have Nathan and the
carriage ” she exclaimed. I -
“No, no, I don’t want him. I gum used
Wﬂkmd mebbe I’ll have to ag’m, one of these
days ” he added, half to himsel . ,
‘,‘*' ut can’t hedrive over and bring you home?
' It’s along way, father, and it Will be dark.”
, .“ Darkfyes; he can come after me,” he said
‘ slowly; the word dark seemed to make a great
impression-upon him. ,
‘ What timeshall he.oome,‘father?”
‘ -- . (“‘1’Bout nine,”he answered. _ “I want toiheva
good long talk with the deacon. “The deacon’s a‘ :

\

‘ ,r'er'nart man, and I want his advice.” .,
if ’l‘hent‘lie old sailorset'out. Herwalked slewly
slung. annarenﬂy absorbed in thought. ,His

,A, e-

 
“The moment 'I got" back .

' know t

, an

to. pleasures; probabl looking forward to the day

. settle down with your famil on shore.”

I did settle down, I was allers Icoking'forwardto

 
\.

.  ‘  V' C  and color  trasstran'gely‘cloomy,  _

and many ‘of his ac uaintances, whom he passed -
as he Went'dow'n t emain street, noticed his
abstraction, and ’cute felks afterward “guessed”
that Old Daddy Embden was breaking up. .

Butthe old man looked neither to,the right
nor left, but kept straight on over the bridge and
up through Saco, till at last he came
deacon’s house. ‘ .,

Paxton was busy with his newspaper, as was
usual with him at that hour of the evening, so
the visitor was conducted up into the library. K

“ Good-evening, Mr. Embden,” the deacon

said, rising to greet the old captain; ,“take a ‘

hair.”
Paxton laid aside his newspaper and prepared ,
to hear what Embden had to say. He guessed
at once that his vistor had come on business, fer
there was very little social intimaCV between
the genial, broad-minded deacon and the unso-
cial, close—ﬁsted Embden, who, since his return
to Biddeford, had seemedto have but two ideas:
the ﬁrst tomake money; the second, to let peeple
but be had it. - , '

Deacon Paxton had been reared in a different
school altogether from that of the coasting
skipper. Born to wealth,.he regarded it as a
servant, not as a master. His brain had not
been dazzled by a sudden rise to fortune. He
regarded money in its true light—a most excel-
lent stlavte, but a most terrible tyrant if you give
we 01 . 1

‘PI thought that: I would drop over an’ gi’n

on a neighborly call this evening, deacon,”
ﬁnbden said, in his squeaky voice, and restless,
nervous manner. '

“ Glad to have you call,” the deacon re ,
sponded, just a little bit astonished, for it was .
the ﬁrst time that Embden ever «had honored .
him in that way. Paxton took a good look .at
his visitor and marveled at the change which .
had taken place in him since he last saw him,
some two weeks before. ~

Embden—always thin and careworn in the
face—looked only like a host of himself.

“ You have been sick?’ the deacon asked.

“ Wal—no, I can’t call it sick, deacon 'but a
leetle ailing- kinder out of sorts, you know,”'
Embden replied.

“ To what do you attribute it?” i
“I dunno,” Embden said, with a shake of the

C

 
which you used to lead,” the deacon suggested.
“You’ve made the great mistake which nearly
all men make in this life. The boy goes into an
active business life at ﬁfteen, say; toils and
strugglesupward till he becomes a man of forty-
ﬁve or ﬁfty; accumulates Wealth, and for ten
years before he retires he says to himself, ‘In
about ten years more I shall have all the money
,I want; then I) shall retire and en‘o it.’ The
ten years pass away; he gives up is business,
retires, probably buys a country place; the man
, who for thirty years has been attling daily in
the strife for‘ wealth, which,we call business,
suddenly draws out. He wants rest, and in a
r ear“ or so he gets so much 'of it that he dies.

n reality, the thirty years of toil has made it
necessary to his existence: the moment the
wei ht ls removal from his brain, it softens
kills him; Have you never noticed, Mr.
Embden,“how many of our leading business
ﬂats?” die soon after they retire from active

9 ,

“Wei—now you speak of,it, ’pears to me 1
hev.” Embden really had very few ideas in re-
gard to the subject. v »

‘ “ This is the only thing thatcan save them,”
and the deacon waved his hand around and

pointed to the well-stocked library. _“ Let them '

efore they retire learn to seek companionship
in books, in» art and science, and in the really
lonely retirement of a country home, these w' l
aid to ﬁll the place of the toil and bustle of an
active business life.” _ ‘
“Wal, I never took much to‘books,” Emb-
den said, slowly. . - “-
“No, your 'habitstended another way. You
have worked hard all your life; had very few
when you should e able to leave the sea and
“That’s so, deacon,” .Em on said, quietly.

“From the time I gotmarried to, Nancy till I ,

 
it, ands more-keerfu’l man and a more saving ,
one about money matters, deacon, never lived.” ’

"‘, There. it is, you see; probably you and your .
wife do lived. yourselves of “a good many little
comic lookln ' ferivard to theitimo when

 militia 901’ 9 W5 35% NW:  than '  I
t i :Vrl’iimllf’iiiiy?“ Wartiizv nee arouses her ‘

1,.

 
.eM,

 
tothe’

. killing?

5 to interfere he ’
*i Oneman of’the, .two'is killed; lathe

      
3‘} hr: .h‘s. to, ,,
“ Iths an awful

   
blow, to me; th‘chydied; ,-
I should hev‘ thought it was a Visitation  :

vidence, but it came More.” _ _ , e  U, . '.
Paxton looked atEmbden With an    

of astonishment upon his'face. ‘ , 
“Came before?” he said. "  i . ' I r» “
“ Afore I got rich, I neanﬁ’he explained, but ,
here was a peculiar guilty look upon the old; "
man’s face. I - g - r a 
“ There’s the lesson which I have been preach?  (f;
ing all my life,” the deacon continued; “ . 
sibly you may remember the story of the; ir-  r
‘man‘, Randolph of Roanoke jumping u-pmthex»
ouse and exclaiming, ‘ ‘dentlemen, have g
found the philos'opher’s stone: pay as you go?

" So I might claim to have discovered the pr 1* t.
. way to live; enjoy all the comforts—not V ~ s, ‘

ries mind—that you can as on go.” '
, “Mebbe you’re ri ht,” lam den said, thong: tn";
fully. “I’m glad, ,eacon, that you’ve i
’bout‘these thingls, ’oos I see you’re jest‘ the,
man to give me a eetle advice on‘a matter that’s
been uzzlingme some.‘-”  J ,
“I’ advise youto the best ‘of my ability,”z~
Paxton aﬁ'irmed, now beginning” to understand. .
why he had been honors by a visit from 
Embden. r V _ * ~ ‘
“Wal, deacon, it’s a matterright in 
line” Embden said, in explanation. .“YOWI’
in the church, you know, an’ this lcetle m
is a sort of a matter of conscience.” *
“ Let me hear what it is.”
“W_l-—now\in the late
blame forthe killing?” ‘ v v A H __,
Paxton looked at the anxious face of'the' old
man in utter astonishment. ' ,. 7 ‘ _ n 
“ I don’t exactly, understand,” he said, , ,p a V
“ Don’t you see? Who was to blame farther
’Twasn’t the sogers, ’cos of 
were put there to kill each other: but do. 
think that the men that put ’em there was.  r
as much to blame as if they had killed 
that was killed with their own 
down in cold blood?” I , '  v

“CHAPTER XXV. H _ .

THE FACE IN THE GLOOM.” : .V’ ,-

Tmt deacon looked into the anxieusfaec

Embden in considerable astonishment; ,1,th
plain that for a moment he thoughtEinbéan:
was out of his head. ' ’ 7 g  i of ‘

“What do you think?” asked'Embden.n 
lonely, ﬁnding that the deacon did 
“ Do you think that when the day; 62:32; 5

..

war, who was  :

 
comes, they will hev to answer
Shi‘ite 11‘  ‘ 

e rea , our ,, _  
ground that it, i: hard-ll;r possible to forme
opinion on the suggect," the deacon answered?

Embden look terribly disappointed,

inful expression came over

e bent his eyes to the .

“It’s,a great ity
could hev only give  __
think it would ev done'meapo   --‘ 1."
It’s awful if a man’s gotta 
spilt” that way, when lie-didn’t daiﬁdthinga
so . '

The deacon looked at theworkii‘g 
den’s face for a moment, and then a stead ‘
light seemedtoﬁashuponhis  w‘if 

‘Mr. Embden, excuse_4me, but Idam’tg ,
you’ve put the case exactly right. 
war was not brought on by men but, 
cumstances. It was really fateditoi‘tre;  
thunderstorm to clear the atm , ,‘z-j .
me put a suppositional case, which ‘th’ ,  ,I
do, and the answer may suﬁce forthe‘queshhtt
which you have in your mind.” - r  , _,

“Me be you can, deacon,"  
raising his head as he woke  a , .
the deacon With an anxious expression 

features. .
a1 is:
rig y m.

 
his features,

 
' “If I get your meaning

_ guilty of murder who takes no


self, yet byhis action] erections 
giggder possible which otherwise, it  

“Yes, that’s it, deacon,”  
deep gazing, be han’ ging as it»,
upon ewo s o n. ' l ‘ 

“Now, we’ll suppose ‘d‘caser'l‘wom; 
en in a struggle; a third  
an ks on' he no attem  

 
l

the ' of ” ~ ’ , 
_ ‘Pﬁmm deacon,” interrupted .,

 
ve evident] jd~  ,..
,, on’thyoverthegroungﬁsm; .   . .,
“No?”andthedeaconlocked _ 'm

1“ Netthe case I want; the  '

 
 , 3' -‘ '  ' ' ' ‘ v '
as“;  .tookuo actual partin the affair,
a “‘3 o, onlyhe told one man to come to the
fplaeeand he told the others that he was oomz
in abutof course he didn’t know that the ﬁrst
i E if 4 euwould be killed by the other ones, though
, :‘kinder ’speoted there’d be a leetle trouble,”
1 Wmhden‘ spoke in a hurried, constrained man-
~ finer; evidently the subject was a very painful
L0116.'$ , '5
' ‘  looked at the old skipper for a mo-
,ment. in alliance. There‘was a thoughtful ex»
{Won 11 n hissmooth, benevolent face. -
“  . I understand it now,” he said; “I
S  ’put the-case again: There isa man who has
’enemies. Another man induces him to go to a.
certain plaeepat a certain time; and beforehand
he this man’s. enemies that the man 'will
corneal-.0 a certain lace and at a certain time,
 he know: that ey will lie in ambush there
1‘  him. ;" He is not reallyzcertain that they in-
tone to killzthe man, but he is full awar? that
they-ere enemies, and that they 0 not‘ ie in
art for for any 00d purpose. The man
 decayed there y the second arty; he
was a n, and in the struggle is ki ed. The
' 1 hasdoooyed him takes no part in the
‘55 : mildew”. interrupted Embden, breath-
 ,and hardly able to sit still in his anxiety.
_   s afmile off, or a. rod, or ten miles; the
 is nothing,” the deacon continued; f‘ he
doesanotr strike the man; does not lift a ﬁnger

games 111—” 1

I g , too, that he had anything to

with it, w, on he thought that the man
(min get killed,” Embden added earnestly.

 
a
H
2+

 
Mt

.._ at; does the case that I have stated
t is.

.     want my 0 inion as to the guilt of I
~.who’acted the ecoy to the slain man?”
y,, . , ’ as. i. I " ,
1W6, iysi‘ry invthe 6 es 'of Heaven, Ithink ,
  be held to more guilty than the
men  really Shed. the blood, and that, if

4‘

 its, shellaﬂre hereafter, that man Will roast

to a hair!” was Embden’s solemn re-

 
gibeyond a doubt.” ,

1%, ithm ‘hollow groan Embden sunk back in

 another second and he fell helpless to

'giioor: he had, fainted.

Hallol‘hailo!” ‘cried the deacon, risin ,in

4 Hmr'f‘l‘made the dose too strong. oor
 what use is his money with this
"  ' hangingth Soul?” ,

 did not call assistance, but took

 itgaher, of ice—water from the table and

.13"

" ‘ f;  him gently/in hisme and placed him

“the. ‘1‘ ' e.‘ He sprinkled some .more

  
thevdewon observed,” he stood by the

Th" , ’ ', ‘ ,

J .éﬂodd Embdenrevived. , ,

. ,, athel eegscared look, he glanced up

illuminant 09-. v *

 you think that . he r’ally will burn,
; e" anxiously.

My incorer regnts he may be saved,”

,_ bon'replied, wi real solemnity. *

' ' , ligature of it,” Embden muttered,

iii—aloud

   
.LT. . a:

. . yretum; .
  love _ make them white as

' deacon  his patient. 

2   money, too, through this kill-
"

g... ', 9 seem» cried the deacon.
’ '_ Twirl acoursed; it is a wei lit
'3 'tgesouldownto hell.’ ﬁe

Brother, t

j’the’two men knelt down, and a
g ....epnestprayer thedeaetm oﬂeredu ;
We: a  m that
e e me or”: e p e
If a a inﬁhe-ahupzble widow’syoot—

"  ﬁe, your I’e ,"ths
without rising fro ,_ ‘_ ,ees.
’ free-that  man, mormng’and

_., ,m

   
., 

the face of the old man. Then he!

e: ‘ p holds out to burn, the vilest .
though his sins be as red as .

unarmed  geisha. farithan   'l

“What, mnounts to nothing atom,” the deacon, .

the deacon said, reassumngly, placing his hand; ‘

Nathan was "coming with the carriage, but I

 
  and loosened his necktie. ‘;
gummtearry around the weight this ;
‘ 'mJop all the .money in the State of ;.

his: Ree organisms
_ n _

with the Will

“ swowl”

 
.’ e .1"  V“
I helpless i'

 
sleeﬁessnightsl” v,  r  . l
“ s Size l,deacon, he shall!” and the tears
were streaming in the eyeslyof the old man.
~ vThen the twoLrose to their feet. The gloom
and dusk of the evening surrounded them.

‘3 Deacon, do on believe in spirits?” asked
Embden, sudden y, and with a nervous glance

1 around him.

“From the other world? No." ' J 1

“Well, I didn’t used to, but I’m beginning to ,
believe that there are such things. I seem to ‘
hear things in the air round me after dark. I
don’t see anything, but I expect to soon.”

“ It is only your imagination  Embden ” i

on the old man’s shoulder.
“ Mebbe it is. We] I’ll bid you good-night;
I’m much obleeged. I feel a great deal better.

guess I’ll walk and meet him.” -

Paxton escortedthe old man to the door, and
watched him until he got half-way tothe gate;
then he closed the door.

“ I know now what preys on Embden’s con-
science, but it is still a‘ uestion with me where
he got all that money,” e said, as he ascended
the stairs to the library again.

Embden was walking slowly to the gate, with
his eyes ﬁxed upon the ground.

A hedge, some four feet high, separated the
grounds of the mansion from the street.

The gloom had thickened quite rapidly, and
one cou d scarcely see twenty feet in advance.
Just before Embden got to the gate he helps
pened to lookup, and he behold a sight which
froze hisblood with horror. . .

Just beyond the gate a face appeared in the
gloom. , _ . ‘

Embden recognized each feature in an in»
stunt—although many months had come. and
gonle since he had looked upon the face in the
ﬁes 1. ' ' .
But that face, since the, dark night when the
Nancy Jane ﬂoated with the turn of the tide,
down the Rappahannock, and out into Chesa—
peake Bay, had been ever present before Emb—
den’s eyes. .

The proud, haught , southern features; the
eyes of ﬁre and the w ite forehead half-covered
by the straw hat. t V ‘ -

And now, framed in the gloom of the night,
the face appeared beforehim, but, even to' the

Ianic-stric en eyes of the feeble old man, it
ooked much fresher and more youthful than 1
when he saw it in life. .

The face had grown oun in the “other world.

A moment only Pe cg mbden glared upon
the sight, and then, with a low‘ moan he sunk
hairless, almost lifeless,~to the ground. The sea

 
given up its dead!

 
CHAPTER XXVI.

. THE“SPI.RIT AGAIN. 1

ABOUT. half-past eight, §athan, Daddy Emb- ,
den’s “ hired man,” hitche up one of the horses ,
to a light bug, and started for Deacon Pax- 3
ton’s house, in \ 0. after the old captain.

He did not hurr himself, but drove along
leisurel , as Polio lied instructed him to go
there 9. out nine. ' . ‘ .

,As he drove up the crest of the hill on the
Saco Side of the river, be consulted the old-fash-
ioned, open-face silver watch which he carried.

“Five minutes of nine,” he said; “ I guess I’ll
be right on time.”a( ' V , l. '

He had driven slowly in front of aﬁi‘uzzist’s
shop which afforded him light, so that he might
consult his time— lece'. _ , '

“ Git up Jim, he cued, touching the home

i

Five innings ‘more and he halted in front of
Deacon Paxton’s house. I .

“ I, guess I’d better let the old man know I’m
here,” he said, as he left the buggy. \

Nathan opened the gate and advanced up the
walk toward 6 house. He had only taken
some ﬁve etc 3 when he tumbled over a dark
body on the ground and went Sprawling at full
le huponthewalk,._ -. . .

‘ amationl”. he cried, picking himself u
in dis ust. “ I wonder who on earth that

to ed out there? He must be pretty drunk,

Then Nathan/bent over the motionless form 1
and rolled the senseless man over on his face. ’

“ By gosh! if it ain’t the old man!” :he’ cried, ‘
in profound astonishment; “ drunk all throng: . ,
too,” he added. 3‘ Wal, I. never_ knowed ‘t
the 7 ' 017 men slowed, in his house afore.
I s’ipose ,I’dﬁaetter carry thenold rip heme-and
 Yankee
 -L Wisgmths‘mwnﬁran

s

  
. around him, in a feeble, vacant way. “j a , .-
y an nerv-

r to himself,

,‘Y .

V groan» oemofrom‘ his.
lips; he dpeued his eyes slowly and; stared,

“Where isit?” he muttered, slow
ously. , . "

“ guess the deacon’s in the‘house, cafpt’n,"
Nathan sa1d,tlnnking that the old man re erred
to Paxton. I _ e ‘

“No, no, net the deacon, the other?” and-
Embden glared around him with dilated 9 es.

“Who in thunder does 'he mean?” Nat an“
’ l

queried to himself, in wonder. I
“ Didn’t you see it?” the old man asked.
“ See the deacon?” , o "

,“No, no; the other; that dreadful sight,”'the ’

old man moaned

“Ifswow! the ’old feller is awfully slewedy’.

Nathan muttered to himself.

“Which way did you come?” Embden asked, ‘

suddenly. a x . »|

“ Straight from the house; there am’t but one

road you know, squire.” l r ,‘ a

“ And it was going that way,” the old man

persisted; “you must have met it.” , - '
Nathan looked at the speaker in profound as-

tonishment. ., v r
“I ,guess that he must be as crazy as,a bed-

bug!” he concluded. “I wonder who in thun-

der he’s talkin about?” . , ‘
“Oh, dear? Embden moaned, helplessly;

“ I want to go home.” '

“ All right, cap’n; got the buggy outside.”  "
“But you are sure that you didn’t see any.

thing as you came up the road?” Embden de-

 to  the    
r 'conscxousness. 'A low,

J‘

mended, suddenly, and looking Nathan straight ,

in-the face.

“ See what, ‘ squire? Darn me if I know

what you’re driving at)”

“ Can I be going crazy?” the old man asked I

speaking more to himself than to the astonishe
listener who supported him in his arms. .
“ I~guess you are, or awfully slowed,” Nathan,

muttered, in an undertone. , -
“Oh! the dead can’t come. back, caii they,
\ ' .

Nathan i” ‘

“I guess not; I never heerd of anﬁbody ’com- '
uc rot.” “ ._

ing back arter they once kicked the
“Yet I am sure I saw him; 'it-was the same
face, and the eyes glared at me with a stony,
reproachful’ look. .. '
f‘ Show!” Nathan ejaculated, in wonder; “ I
better get the old feller home, or he’ll be chasin’

snakes all over the deacon’s front yard the ﬁrst

thin v
,“ a ban you, won’t let him touch me, will
you?” t e old man asked earnestly. ,
“ Guess not! I’d ﬂax the daylight right out’en

I know. .

him!” Nathan replied, gently urging~ the old

man to the carriage. , . ,
Embden was shaking and shivering as though
an ic wind was cutting him to the bone.
A ter considerable trouble Nathan got the-

old man into the carriage, and, turning the. ‘

horse. around, started homeward for Biddeférd

—-the old skipper muttering in disconnected seu- I, 3'

tenc'es as they rode onwar
Nathan was bothered.

mind that Daddy Embden was goingicrazy.

He kept a close  ‘1 . 1
upon the old man for he had now made up nu,

L“ The old fish may take a notion to biteme, ﬁrst v

thing I know?” he muttered; “I
out to take care of a med critter. I’d like to

sell out this Pob, ch 1’ . ‘
But the o d man owed no SlgIlS of violence

. although his mutterings gave strong evidence of

an unsound mind.

All the while as they rode alon he Was er. ‘ 7 ”

ing rout, watching ﬁrst one side o ’the rec and
then the other; and ever new and. then h
would mutter; “I do no see it! ,I do notSe
it I” and Nathan as often would putthe/question
eew Who in thunder does he expect to?
S .' ’

to ascend the little hill on e. Biddeford side
Embden gave a sudden, hollOw groan, and slid
out of his seat‘down into the body of the buggy
in a heap. He had fainted again. v
Nathan was terrib

gng slowly, whileh‘e tried to, reviVe the ol \
n ' » " '

covered, an
‘ \ 4‘
“ I saw it again,” I

he, mu _ red. 7
“Saw what ' ' we

‘ «weightings the’facei‘ a has 

never hired *

. \y

r'ilgiey drove through Saco and crossed the   
I go. , r‘ _ :  ,
Just as they left the bridgﬁ and commenced. ‘

t

, ly alarmed, butdrove,’  . 'I
the top of the hill before he attempted to render 
any assustance. Then ‘he ,let the ho - jo 

It was only a few minutes before Embden-re’-  ;
then he looked up into Nathan's; . v
face with trembling features. , * I .

, ,sqmre?” q ,  .~  4 ‘.
. «Aspiri’t tram the other worldlﬁ, ,   " e

 
4:;

      
.1” /.

 
C, 

 
\ . . or he’d done

,1 :
>1 '

j  Everybody likes you. thile.

._ a .. V
1 as”;
‘ ' A, r‘.

 
7 ' 1 . '  afore me since that "night whenit ﬂoated

. ,. singing-he Rappahannock, ghastly in the moon
/ i t., I, 1 ‘ .4 ‘
g“ L,rdyl” cried Nathan, a cold shiver sssing
over him: “ you don’t mean for to say t at you,
saw a real ghost walking in the street?” I
“Yes, I saw, it,” the old man re lied, ear~.
nestly; “that is what made me amt. He
looked just the same, too—a straw hat and a
military cloak wrapped around him; he was a.
$0 ithern ofﬁcer.” ‘
 “ And you saw him jest now?” Nathan ques-
tioned. He was a strong-headed, level-minded,
pro. etic, l Yankee, and no believer in ghosts.

' “ Yes. right down the street there,’ and Emb—
den indicated the left-hand side of the road as
has aka. ' ‘ ‘

"gay, squire. if you’ll mind the horse, I’ll
'finvl out what it is or bu’st!” cried Nathan, With
' an air of determination.
“ Yﬂ-a, do!” the old man cried, eagerly. .
S) N «than stopde the horse, gave the reins
into Embden’s hand, jumped out, and walked
quickly down the street.
Two dark ﬁgures stood on a corner, convers-
ing together.
As Nathan passed, he saw that they were two

’ ' of the milligirls.

’ Nathan walked on for full ﬁve minutes, but
with the exception of the two girls standing on
the corner, not a single soul did he see. .-

“ I guess the old buttons ts crazy, anyway,”
he said, as he halted and looked around him.

“ There ain’t a man with a straw hat on ’bout 

these parts. I guess I’d better get him home as
so m as I can.” ,
And, acting, on this determination, Nathan
 returned at once and got into the buggy.
“Did you see him?” the old man asked earn-
estlv.
“There ain’t nobody in the street, ’cept two

\

girls,” Nathan replied, as he took up the rains

and started the horse. .

“ His face is fair—he does look like a woman,”
the old man muttered.

“ Does he wear petticoatsl”

“ No, no of course not!”

‘4 Wal, i
didn’t nuther. I only saw two girls who work
in one of the mills. I know both of ’em by
sight well enough. ” ‘

" I saw him as sure as I set here, Nathan!”
Embien vowed earnestly. _

Nathan saw that it would be useless to attempt
to reason with the old me so he drove home-
ward as quickly as he coul .

CHAPTER XXVII.
‘LYDIA’s SECRET.
.. IN a little, low one-stor cottage in the out-
. skirts of Saco, on the ortland road; dwelt
‘ Dinah Silisbury' Aunty Dinah, as she was
known‘far and e. '  ‘ 1
Our readers will remember her as the oolOrecl
woman with the “ aller” dog who rescued
Lydia Grams from or snowy shroud in the
I streets of Boston, as related in our ﬁrst chapter.
Aunty Dinah made a comfortable living as a
wa’sherwoman, and the careful housewives of
the twin cities praised her skill highly.

 Thepold woman, her daily toil done, had 'ust
sat down to enjg?r a cup of tea, when the 0g,
whohad been etly reposing on the hearth in

r front of the s, ve, raised .his head, looked to-
ward the door, andb his actionsindicated as
plainly as by words, but some one' was coming.

_ “ Somebody comin,’ eh?” the old woman ques-
tioned 115mg her seat. The dog wagged
hls tail at the sound of his mistress’s voice.

“ It’s somebody that the do knows for sure,
. bark long ago,’ the old woman

g said,i vely. .
= Then there came a gentle tap at the door.
‘ r' The old aunty opened It and Lydia Grams en-

tered.
“ Bress de- Lordl” the old woman cried, in de—
light; “ why, chile, is dat you?”
, And the 0g rose ({rom his place by the hearth
and cgme 3‘le to Ly 1a, wagging his tail in to—
: en 0 arm . . r ' I
‘ The irl gas dressed laml. ; ardark water-
proof (Soak covered her _
and she wore a light chip hat, sailor-fashion.
= . ‘ “I thou ht that I would come and see on
aunty,” dia said, and there Was a tron led
ression u on her beautiful face as she spoke.
Dat’s right, chile;
forgotten yer old aunty.” , , :
.‘ I have, too few friends to forget any of
them,” the girl spoke sadly. , . -
e f‘ Lor’, , ye mus’n t speak dat Way!” re
‘ joined the, old woman,  “Yen’s got I
more friends-den an oder gal t works in do

urx -. ,

    
. well.

didn’t see him, and I guess" you ,

orm rom head to feet,

I’se glad clat you hain’tv

 
But. I '

.‘specksv _ ou’s in trouble,honey;‘ yer don’t look
is’ sit Own an’ take a on of teaan’ tell
yer ole aun W’at’s do matter wxd ye.” .

And theo d woman,.bustlin about the room,
placed a chair for the girl at‘t e table. Lydia
sat down, ﬁrst removing her cloak and hat. It
was plain from-the expremion u on the girl’s
features that she was much troub ed.

‘.‘ I’de had supper, aunty,” she said, as the old
woman ured out 9. cu of tea for her.

“ Nob r mind‘dat, c ile; jis’ you drink a cup
of yer aunty’s tea. Yer don’t git such tea as
dat everywhar, an" jes’ try a bit of dat toast.
See how glad dat fool dog is to see you! I neb-
ber see’d any t’ing like dat afore.” And the old
woman laughed heartin as she beheld the dog
friskmg around the visitor, eager to receive a
friendly word from her.

“ Poor doggie,” L dia said, pattin the do ’8
shaggy head with , or soft, white and. T e
dum brute’s {by at seein her made the heart
of the girl fee ess wretc ed. The cold touch
of the animal’s nose rubbing against her hand
seemed full of sympathy.

“Now, honey, jes’ you tole me w’at do mat-
ter is,” the old negress persisted, sitting downto
the table opposite to the girl. "

“'I hardly know now to tell you, aunty,” she
said after a few moments of thought.

I “ Don’t be skeered now, chile for to tell yer
old aunty all ’bout it. , I’se lived a heap of years
lon er in dis world dan you have, an’ p’haps I
kin elp yer out.”

“Aunty, I am vgry miserable!” Lydia ex- 3

cIaimed, impulsively.

“ What come to yer, Chile?” asked the old
woman, in astonishment. .

“ Aunty I want you to advise me whatto do.
I can speak freely to you, for dyou are the only
friend that I have in the worl : But for you I
should have died in the snow-bank where you
found me in Boston. Perhaps it would have
been better for me if you had heeded my wish
and left me to die, instead of bringing me here,”
the girl said, impulsively tears standing in the
large dark eyes, and a ' ook of misery plainly
written on her features. -

“Why, chile!” cried the old woman, in hor~
ror, ‘ you mus’n’t talk dat way; dat’s wicked,
dat is! A young gal like you to want to die!
Lordyl dat’s eig’in’ natur’. Now, honey, you
mus’n’t talk like dat ag’in.” I

“ But, aunty, I am so miserable,” the girl re-
joined. sadly;

“ W’at’s matter, Chile? Has yer quarreled
wid yer young man?” asked the old woman,
shrewdly. . f

A little red spot came into Lydia’s pale cheeks,
and she let her gaze rest on the ﬂoor for a. mo-
ment. 

“ Why’don’t you say, chile? You ain’t afeard
to trust yer old annty, are you?”

“No, no,” Lydia replied, %iiickly; “ but how
did you know that any gent
attentions to me?” \

“ Lordy, chile, the folks round hy'er will talk,

n o ey so. that an ntleman is -
ing attentions to mg?” y 36 ~ pay

‘I ’specks they do; I‘ heerd ’em.”

“ And who was the gentleman?”

“ Dat Sinclair Paxton, honey, ‘un’ he ain’t no

poor. white trash,” the old woman said, em-
phatically. '
V For a few moments Lydia was silent; “as she
had suspected, Sinclair’s attentions to her had
been noticed, and already *people had begun to
couple their names . ether.

“ And do they say t t a rich man like Mr.
Paxton thinks of marrying a poor girl like my-
self?” she asked. ' .
hi‘gges, honey. Yer ain’t had a quarrel wid
m .

“No, no, but it is to ask your advice in re-
gard to Mr. Paxton that I came to see you to-

ni ht.”
g‘ Dat’s ht, 1103.634 I’ll do do best I km for
you ” the o d woman observed, encouragingly.’

“Mr. Paxton has been ve ‘ kind to me ever
since I came to the mill; 9 is the treasurer
there, you’knowl” 

The old woman nodded. v r

“ And he has told me that he loves me and
that he wishes the to become his Wife.” , ,

“ Dat’s w’at I’d like to see, honey l” the old
woman exclaimed, exnltantly. “ ’Fore de Lord!
I’d walk a. hundred miles fur to see dat!” "

“ But, aunty,

Dinah

ishment. v . , .
. “ Elly not, chile? dat’s w’at'l’d liketo know 1”
sh“; Sitarichmen  lam only a 
was: nu ’édat'dohlt count;-nohowg!N ’* ~

1‘

at. er for a moment in aston—

r ,

in

   
eman was paying ,r

m. M - \

su oselca’n notbehis wife?"

;

“But, if there is another reasonif’Jay din add: 0
9d,, and then she hesitated as if undecided; 
whether to go on or sto ._ Then With a sudden/1 .

movement, she set her ips tight together for 8 ~'  ’

mo‘menttancll the komhegltgfion’v h ' .f, - 1'
, ‘ Ann , mus ' y wit you; or  ,
llyou are t e only one in tigis world to whom I, '

can ofor counsel. There is a reason wh ‘I f, 
; shou d not marry Sinclair Paxton. There we ' 
E man livin , who, if I marry  Paxton; would 

holdme a lutely in his power. I should‘he 
his slave, obli edto do his will, and if my 13.118. ‘ ‘-
band by any 0 so should happen to discover: ,

,my unhappy secret, he might drive mefrom . 
1 him with curses—with loathing, and I should»  >
‘deservetobesotreated.” ' . ’* , , '.

“ Bress de Lord, chile!” exclaimed the old  a5
womang in astonishment, “I don’t understand. '
dis yer.’ - _ ~ ‘ « 

“And I can not fully explain, except that . « 3

there is a dark secret connected with my early.» «I 3
‘ life. It was that secret ressing on my Jar/am. ’ '
z and driving me almost madness that-made '
me seek death in the snow-bank from which you *
rescued me. Now, eunty, I’ll tell you what- I
cametonsk.’ This man who, possesses such’a ‘ .
terrible hold'u n me, knows of Mr. Patton’s, ,
1 love for me. e has offered that if 'I will give ' f 
5 him a certain sum of money he will away, so  we
1 that I can marry Mr, Paxton, an promised“; 
i that I shall never see him again. Now aunty, 
l is it right for me to dothis—to marry , n13"
tleman, knowing as I do, that if this man oesf 
not keep his word and should return ‘I doom '  7;
both 111 husband and, myself to a lifetimeof '

' miser ” r ‘ H 
: “An’ can’t ’yur tell Mister Paxton  1 
the old Woman asked,va ; J:

I dis yer thing?
y. , ._ I ‘ I .y [1,.
“ No; I can not tell ,him, for if he knew my 3 .-
secret, our marriage would be impossible, ‘
. Lydia replied, slowly. f   _
l L“ Don’t you have nuﬂin’ to do wid him, thong, . -.
hone ' dat ain’t right: dat ain’t ’cordin’ to def 
Ilook; don’t you do it, chilel” the negress 1-1, ’
.3 said decidedly. v g, < I  ' 
“'I‘hatis w atmy own heart hastoldme‘afg \
hundred times, but I am so weak, so irresohite,  ‘
and this man loves me so well. When I. aim-,-
with him I think that I could dare evensr thing 1
5 ——risk all for his sake!” Lydia said, hmﬁediy’
l and in strange excitement. ‘  . .v
l “ Don’t you do it. honey! Act fell” an? s
l squar’; datsde only way to git along in die
yore world.” v ' ,  .-  ' 
l “ You are right! He must forget me and ~13, a:
must forget him, and may Heaven 've  ’
stren htobearourcross. Well, "' ‘
good- y, aun ;” and Lydia rose a
or thin ‘ I must go, now. It‘is
dark, an it is a long way home.”
“Come again soon, honey.” ' . - ' ‘
“ Yes, yes,” and L din  away. .‘
On her home posed lay

 
\".
“A

 
l

 
, by the gloom 
mg, and then hurried on again, her 
and stony as the face of a  
CHAPTER XXVIII.  v' _. 
W ups/nan minnn’s ,  f  .,
KEN re uggy riven» y athen, f.’ C
up in front of the, bden mansion,  
man was so com‘pllgtely unnerved, that N ', V j,
had to take him in the can-maze as like ‘
been achild. , ' ' ,
Delia had been on the look-out or hostel-
ther’s return, and when, the .buggyhalted,’ as
m 7 .

 
cameoutontheste .. ., . 
“0h, father, you are sick!” should. .. r 
“No, I ain’t sick,”"ho muttered as”!

with the aid of her arm, he tattered-vi 

 ., into the house. Nathan followed

close bind. . . ,. ’  ;-  ~
Delia led the old man into the . ‘

placed him in an arm-chair,  i 

to Nathan’s beckoning hand, she came "

door which led into the hall where 
man stood. a “ '  == 

“ What is the matter with; father '1'” meek.»
ed, sorely troubled at the conditionottEeoId

n . . . . 

n. -, 4  ,
‘Wal, Delie,it’shmdtosa5&;1~laﬂasn ' "

 
slowly. “ I drove up to the son’s
got there 'est about nine jest as  
And arter got there I in a; had 

0 into the house and letyonr etha- 
I’ was there. So I get out of the mgonﬁndi
walked into the. yard. I tumbled  senior
l thin’all curled into a heapon the. ~ ‘ 
i thought-tum that it was mailer oiled
.,been drinking tea 11:11ther and  1"

into mom’s yard to sleepjt ed.  

comes to Examine. 'I found that it was sear ,, .

 
'  \V' L

3 «1’ ‘“ 'A\, ,:
,, 

a

e,.

,1. ‘|-.  I _

i \ I »

 
., " v" I got-himinto "the buggy and he talked
"ail-:the' tine as are as a. teams: I‘ couldnu;
{nake‘liead‘or tail'o tit at<funét, tut,arter we
;" droue'cna spell,'-I found out that he thought
 n theft he had seen aw host.” \ ' ' .

 , «, ‘ﬁA ghost!” crie the girlin wonder. , ‘
. .f; “Sortinla ghost wrapped up in a mil’tary
1 reloakﬁand wearing a‘straw, hatJ ,

* “.But‘did, he see any thin ?”

  
’ ,1»

"Vth was dead. But arter we ot over the
, bridge and was coming up the hi1 , he drOp d
 of it, he said that he had seen the ghost
.ag’in.” « v - v v
w,“ But did you see any thin i” 

~‘ .“Not a thing: and-when found out what
‘ " ht out of the buggy and
I  , but cool at see any thing at all.
except a} couple or.

corner jot the street.
as“ Then you think that father did not really
 my thi %, and that the ' host is only in his
g-‘i [ tion theng asks ,thoughtfully.

 A! at’s' just what think. I' don’t believe in
star-anyway; I never see’d but one, and that
 ’ ' out to" dad’s white cow.”

. .‘,‘v‘.0h,rwhat shall I do with him?” cried the
girl ' wring'i her, hands in despair. ..
 “’Wal, II“? was ou, now,‘ Delie,”, Nathan
 ,,conﬁdentl , “t 6 ﬁrst thing I’d do would
be 1 _ o and in him up a stiff, hot rumjpuncb.
 addy’s been a sailor, you know, and hot
rum Comesslglnger natural [to ’em. Then I’d get

 :‘ ,tiYes,,IWill 60506” . - = '
T ‘ .rl‘l’ll'gut the horse up, then I’ll come in and
gtslkte im; but} tell you; he’s as cranky as all
reﬁt-scum, ‘ 1" . ., _  ‘
 -"Then Nathan departed, while Della returned
wherfather. - - — « r .
j ‘4 . Thc'cld' man was sitting-in the easy-chair,

H

a
8
pa

 
by his hand-
: a not * u ,
, ‘V a achingsand'kneelin down by hischair.
IV ~92 nervous motion, mbden raised his
, sad and looked carefully around the room be.
he'spoke. » I l 1, » -
' ‘1 ’m ask at heart, Delis; that’s where I’m
sick ” he‘sald, slowly. - ,
z.“ éh’a’n’t I mix you some hot rum, father?”
 as,” he ;replied, quickly; “I want
Wﬁhin? steady nay-nerves; I’m only a'wrack,
ﬁWv‘ .‘t I’ "I  v "
was Shelia went and, prepared the hotldrink,
WChthépldman suppedeagerl . .-
‘E‘hﬁat’siwhat your ‘ ther .to ﬁx up for

 
as u‘i°°“m‘:.:;2d°t°* Inmaf 5"” lahsquiiiy
‘ W “ .   tar-a, no -
_' ‘ ' foundgour mother sitting up and
' ' ’ dermal If chad only lived I never?

shafted his book with a. great lot of
 hetcaught hold of me, poor sinner
f] -. din. ‘ The deaconsays, too, that I’ll roast
 M ill-ﬁre. » Oh Lord!” and the old man groan-

-  how could the deacon say such-
as that tdyou?” she asked in won-

 irﬁeididnft know that it was me, Delie,” the
  “The deacon has known me
 for fortyyears. Hencverknew me

 ,, ' ny. TheBidde-

 
I but he‘s honest to a.
only. wants w at’s comm to ,him.’
* . “ wasn’t-a man,.‘woman or chil from Bos-
 the; K531161360: that wouldn’t trust the
 the Nancy Jane; the wouldn’t be-
’that I-wasa thief, an a red-handed

WI .
;Dh,'fatherl” cried- the. girl, with tears in
 “you mustn’t say such dreadful

 mu. gun on. rm: a dreadful
, "  5mm Embden moaned in agony ' ".-
 1; don’t speak that Way,” Doha

 onl Vtgﬂnk sea-$811116 eldtmgg
. ' 11.5 f, p ’m 

W .v
  , : ,tdreadflﬂ ht
dilemmas... “’g
“owed

 A , ’Ifkin seeit


r

 
river; and, as 

 
‘v “Wail, now, furst' OR, I bought mebbe that l
» , iiéjhad Seen s’omebodypaSSing in the street, who 1
_ looked like somebody that he once knew, and g
3 that I am. I felt better arter I hee .

ﬂown in a faint ag’in, and when ‘1 mused in

girls standing talking on a

head resting on the table, and hidden,
you feel well, father?” the girl ask-'

J3me said, slowly and refle'ctivel ,while a»

‘ ‘ w ﬁche it; but‘the devil-ﬁshed for my,

'pper Embden’s a ‘

. ; “9 why, if any one should hear'
they would surely think that ‘

 
. his head sorrowfull

couldn’t see anything or anybody

'swered, slowly.

1' you’léhseenabyt six or ’em.” -

on e at man
Who was "g,??het’5s. any; . ,
' suddeulm aiﬂﬁ'uuite a ‘10nd muse“ “I want

looked oyertthe stem, the l min aéﬂoaﬁnSon ‘

his back ands-staring up at me, as much as l
to,'say,.I’ll never leave you, and 'he‘never has, H
really; for I see ,him all the time, no matter
where I am.” '

“Wh‘d’ t, dtblkf 
y ontyou ryan - ‘1 °>s°m 3.1m father,an

ather?” the girl said, ceaxingly.

es, I know,” the old man said, 

I? “You think that I don’

know what I’m tal ing about, but I do; I ain’t

or I The deacon knew that I wasn’t crazy.

He' elt down and prayed for mower sinner i
him

else,
6 6

pra .
It kinder lifted my soul up. I kinder thought
how my mother used to ray for me when I
was runnin round, a bare ooted bo . It’s putty
hard for a d-fearing man ‘ who lived an
honest life for forty years, 0 turn all of, a sud-\
den into a pesky villain.- The deacon says I
must give it all up, and so I will, but, oh, Lord!
I can’t bring back the life that’s gone. We can
take it away but .we can’t restore it.” 
“Now, father, try anddon’t talk this way,”
and the girl smoothed back the bristly hair of .
the old man caressingly.

“I know ou think I’m ‘wrong;' Nathan
thought that was crazy to~n1ght when I said
that I saw it on the street.” 1

“ What, father?’ '

"‘. The ghost.” ' .

“ But whose ghost?”

“ Why, the man who ﬂoated down the Bap-
pahannock.”

All this was a mystery to the girl. One thing
onl was plain to her, and that was that her ;
fat or was laboring under the pressure of a 
strou mental excitement. - r

“ Vt as the man‘dead?” ’ , .

“Yes, of course he was dead; .he couldn’t a-
ﬂoated of he hadn’t been dead.”

“ And you saw him to-mghti’.’ ; I

“Jest as plain as I see you, Delis,” the old
man said, solemnl' . “ I was coming out of the‘
deacon’s house, f—way ’cross the yard, mebbe,
and I happened to raise my eyes and look out
into the street over the gate, and there he stood,
jestthe other side of the gate. He was a-look-
mg at Inc—right strai ht at inc—and his face
was jest as pale as oath, and his. eyes they
looked like great balls of ﬁre. \He never moved
a mite, only stood and looked at me.”.

“ But are you sure, father, that

 
h ed it {Light .
somebod assin b who a pen , to a ,
resemblairilge to t cyberson wlgom you think it i
was? It was dark, wasn’t it, father?” I

“,Yas, a leetle dark.” r . l

“Well, in the dark you might have made a i
mistake.” I. _ , . I

“ Yes, but I saw it again, Delis,” he said, not
at all convinced. « ’ 

“When was that?” ' » . ,

“Arter we crossed the bnd _, and was dnv— 1
ing up the  I“ was a-lo ng ’round’cos I'
thought‘that he would foller me, and Jest as we ;
were oiug up the hill, he came right out of a .
dark 8 adow, ri ht side of the buggy; rose, you
knew, asghosts 0, right out of t c with},

,“ But what became of him?” the girl asked,
unable to decide whether her father was labor-
ing under a delusion or not. - _ I ' ,

‘ I don’t know,” the old man said, doubtfully -

,“Iwent downall in a heap at the‘bottom o

the buggy.” , _v ', .
“But athan said that he got gut and then

i ' “ ’Cos I’m the only one it ap ears to. Every-
body can’t-see hosts. It’s 0 y wretched sin-
ners like I am,’ and the old ’man groaned in bit- ‘
terness of spirit. *

CHAPTER XXIX. .
. ,, TEE smrrun’s comssrou. r ‘
NATHAN’S entrance into the room interrupt-‘
ed the conversation. , .
“Wal, cap’n, how do you’ feel now?” he
asked. ‘ ’ ,
“Putty

poorly, Nathan,” the old man an-‘f

3 “I’m ’tarnel sor ; can’t I do somethin’ for
you? Sha’n’t I ‘go or a doctor?” '
“‘I’m afeared that a doctor wouldn’t dome ,
much good,” Embden said sorromeg. .
“Wal. I don’t have much faith in hem and
inthe‘ir nasty stuff myself,” Nathan and. “I .

' never could understand wh‘ medicines that a ,

feller takes to dohim good _
his insides all “up. New, squire, of I were gou, ‘
Pd, take two or three hot, rum punches an go i
tobed. guess that the rum will make your 1
head swim round so that, if aﬁost does come, I

', doiter this ad- 3,

‘ ‘ ' fuses,” the old'man said, }

ould'allers pucker ,

v
I

 
"slowl up the stairs to his own rOOm—a

‘ the truth, Delie.

to o ag’in’ my own side and help the other, S. 
but wanted money bad. I had been a-sailing '  
that Nancy Jane up and down the coast for ~~ 
r many a long year, and somehow I couldn’t get 

, to get our cargo somewhere on the easternrsh’ore
o

Assisted by his daughter, the old (map:
on -

 17.3 armada, icy mind  be easier ’ , "k '
en. ' . r . V ,‘

chainH r on the’second story. , . _ v 1
Doha lit the as, brought a rockingechair for - ' '
I a common chair for herself, -
.which she by the side of her father’s. ,
“ Now e116, I’m jist a—goin’ to tell you what

a wicked, wretched man ou’ve got for a. fa-

, ther,” the old man said, so emnly.

.“Why, fatherl” the girl exclaimed, looking,
With a beammg smile and eyes full of lov’e, into
her father’s face, “if you keep on sa_ ing such
dreadful thlngs, I shall begin to t ink that
there ’is really somethingthe matter with your

“Tain’t the head, Delie; it’s the heart that
troubles me,” Embden said, with a hollow

roan: '

“ Now, father, as I’ve told you all along, you
mustn’t think of such disagreeable things.”

"‘ Delis, dear, when the devil gets hold of a ‘
man, he don’t give him much peace.” ’I. r _

“ Oh, father!” , -

“It’s the truth. I feel that I’m on an on- ”
sartain sea; there’s rocks all around, and there’s
no tellin’ how soon the ship will strike on the 7
reef and all hands go down. When I sailed the
Nancy Jane, and it come on to blow a still”
north-caster, with an ugly chopping sea I could '
ask the Lord with a free heart to take the little
coasting smack under his protection, and carry _
skipper Embden back to lns old woman and lit.-
tle gial in Biddeford, but I can’t do it now. I’ve .
trie to ' ray a dozen times, but the words don’t f
comeou freely; they kinder stick on the way. ‘ '
The deacon prayed for me to—night, and I j’ined
m. It took a weight right off my heart. I’ve
been tryin’ to cheat myself that every thing \ " V
was all right; that I’d acted fair and honest,

.‘ and that my account was 's uare before the r

Lord; but the deacon he jes waded in and
made me see what an awful’siuner I am and .'
how good ny chance is to go,down to the bot- 
tomless p1t hereafter .I’m going to tell you all ; " "
about it, Delie, and then afore I o. to bed, I’m
[fromg to wrestle with the devi for my soul:

kept it pure and good for forty years, and,
that ought to count 8. little for me now.” ' '

The 1rl was rplexed; her father’s manner
show no em ence of . insanity yet she could
not understand why he should talkso strangely. »

There was quite a lon silence. Embdenwas' , -’
breathm heavily, but e seemed much more
°°39 °s dbl?“ dimming}. to ’tem ‘ ’ '

ow, e e on 's 11 me tiv ” ‘
th'ti‘ 1old captiirl gnjogiedt . 61y, " '
e gu- , or arm res ing upon her father’s
geezlooked up into hiaface with earnest in.
res . . ' ‘ " »

“ You remember, Delia, arter ‘your mother’s
death, I kissed you good-by, told on I was
50mg on 8. Ion cruise, and sailed e Nancy

one out of the arbor?” '.

“ Yes. I remember, father.” I C

“And you never heeredawqrdofme, or from
me, till I comeback to Biddelord and told you
that I was a rich man.” ' - . ’

The girl nodded. . , ', v

“You don’t know where I sailed to, nor any» ,
body also; 'you don’t know where I made my”? '
money, or anybody else. When they asked me ‘

uestions I told ’em that I had sold the Nancy ‘

ane, and had speculated in ile. _ "But it we’ll t
There was something. on my
hands, that stuck to ’em as tight as ile’and
smelt a good deal Worse. When .I left Bidde-
ford,.I. sail (1 right straight for the capes of
Virginia. met a" man about two months
before 1n Bostin, who was a secret agent for
the Southerners. He was buying ,medicine,
caps and smh things forgthe South,and~he

wanted a. little smack like mine to run, the

blockade with. So he and I made a 
t warn’t right, Delie, for me, a Northern man,’

i

:3

forehanded with the world. Wal, he' offered ' ,
me a big rice of I’d do what he wanted, so I ' ‘z'
asked Jet ro—he was my man, you know—and ’. .
he said he was willingto risk it, and‘sowe. went ‘ ,
mto the speculation. _ _ »’ " .
Y“ Arter we got into Virginian waters we used: -

 
aryland and run over atmight in‘ some of,
theVirgimancreeksandladit.   ‘ a
“ I s’pose we run the blocllade forni ha year,» . ’ .
and never got overhauled by the ederals. L .’ ,1

Then things commenced to look squally'fqr the ‘ . 

 
south. Grant was hammering gaWay._iat "s

\ 5

am}? like all possessed, They coulduft shake. 

,V *3.

'.il

 
" ; dredi’ heasked.‘ I
. for six or seven ton.

i  Now as my.
‘, . taken to'Newgm’mn
‘ ‘ bullets could be to him there.

U  Vonboarg Beforethew
”' Jethro

’ doWn to the

a 1‘ board, the colored man
  the boxes all up together in the stern an’

be
’ “was dumped

. , ’W
['12, war
w .

 
l  and~ u‘ _ . I" soon I coulds‘ee witht halffanﬁyi”
a I

that the . '

eds ,were boginning to“ think.
the. bottom would soon fall out. “I hadcarried

I i  sealed packets two or three times from Ma ry'lan

addressed to a ‘Mr. White.’ These packets‘ba
leaden‘seals attached to each corner, so that, ,in
case that a gunboat captured me, I could throw

; them overboard and they would sink at once.

“ This Mr.

White, who was a good-lookin man,
with a smooth, bo 'sh face, about thirty- 've or

‘ forty-J should think, though he didn’t ‘look to

be over twenty-ﬁve—allers received the packet
in person. I had a notion the ﬁrst time that I
saw him that he was some high cilia-er of the
Confeds. Wal, it Was just arter the battles of
the Wilderness that I carried a larger ackage
than usual over to this Mr. White. llS tune
he opene'd the package right before me. life
were standing at the, time under a (lump of
trees ’bout forty feet from the shore. He didn’t.

appear at all satisﬁed with the letters that the -

sealed packet contained and I heard him mutter,
.two or three times, f It is no use; the end must
come. - It’s only a question of time now. Wal,

' I kinder guessed that he meantthe Fed’rals was

oin to st the best fit. , . x n
g “X11 0% a sudden e turned to me and said,

. ‘That’s a‘neat little craft of yours skip er.’

‘ Putty fair,"I answered. Then_ 6 looked a the
smack and a pear-ed to be thinking ’bout some-
thin ., .‘ W‘ she stand much seal-could you
sail grom here to New York in her?’ he asked.
‘1 ess so,’ I said, ‘ seeing as how I sailed her
ri t straight from Nantucket to Cape Charles.’

on he looked at the smack again, and then he
looked me allover. ‘Skipper ’ he said, m 1118
quick, short way, ‘ are you a rich man?’ I told
him Ihadn’t any more money than I could take
care of. _

“ Then ag’in he looked at the smack, and then
ag 'n he looked at me. ‘Would you like to
make a thousand dollars?’ he asked.

‘.‘.Wal now, Delie, a thousand dollars was a.
putty big sum tome; so I jest u an’ told him
that of he wanted to-pay any V pper a thou-
sand dollars, I was his man. Tr

“ Then he looked at the Smack ag’in an
seemed tobe measuring her all over with his
e es. ‘ ,, , . . x
37‘“ Will she carry a weight of six or seven hun-
told him that she was good

“ ‘ That will do then,’ he (tried out; ‘ I’ll give
911 a. thousand dollars to carry me and my
6 from here to New York), I accepted

the 0 or on the jump, and we arranged that
the baggage was to arrive the night arter, be

‘  . put on board, and then we war to lay in the
7’ stream, and wait for him, as he didn’t expect he

could come till near morning.” v

CHAPTER XXX.
run BETMYAL.

 
V  *fWAL, in the afternoon a colored man drove a

3111* Waggn dOWn to the beach. In' the wagon
was the ' ' ggag'e of my passenger. There was a
ﬁght sole-leather 8

ms, marked «1 (1., and am“ twenty Small
ea

01 course I naturally

' ’ wonderedwhat on earth my passenger wanted

of so much land. I saidas much to the Colored
man, and he replied that it war to make bullets.
or had contracted to be
couldn’t see what use the
. _ But I didn’t say
auythln mote about it, and got the be. gage
011‘ came, I ha sent
no road, sothat he

‘1 anybody came.

dtowatoh

might give me. w

~ ' , _ aming, 1 ,
x ‘ There was a Confederate picket about four miles

inland, and I didn’t ,know but some of them
might take a notion into their heads to strag 1e
th ht I'hadbglaiglgiveryeglu $12.3 Deﬁe’ Iassenkingeer

011" . m P
war°u to. know that he wereysgme high

ofﬁcer 131. the Confederate , an? I suspicioned that'

he had come to the cone usiOn that the war was

, 1 pretty nigh over, and that he mutter get [out

while he Gould. v

“Arter the trunk an’ $319 13,0198 were put on
eldﬂand pulled Off to the Smack. I had
vered ’em over with a piece of sail.‘ The trunk
down side of ’em, standmg'on end.
i g o I climbed on board the smack an’ set down

' 2‘  the Edge“ the cabin, ThereI sot, an’ there

I looked at the boxes jest as if my

' eyes had been'glmietsto bore right throu h the

cod an’all. ~ I knew that it 'wasnt lead
in the houses, an’ I ’SpiClonQdI that it
id.  sureof it: There on board of

 
. ‘.,

;r,:‘. “5}.

I'sdmétmn’if 1.11195115137"onﬁthédeckhg the side
bf W m" 9 '1- Wk fa good look at i , and dis-

_ The owner of the money was an enemy to my

drove 08. [got into '

 
hr lesmwk ,rl tatorem ees warn
 .5 new regimes on"  I see’d_ n ma

 
kivered that it war an envelope. , Then I went .
an’ picked it up. , he heap of the trunk had
snag ' , an’ it were only fastened by the straps,
sot e'envelo ' had slipped out. Inside the en-
velope was aﬁ otter—the envelope“ wasn’t sealed.
It was directed to Maxwell Dallis, Lynchburg,
Virginia. I opened and read it.” Then the old 1
man rose from his seat and went to a little old. ;
fashioned trunk, covered with cowhide—the '
hair still on—and studded With brass nails, which
stood in one corner of the room. He ,opened
the trunk and took a. letter, in a. yellow en-
velope, from a hiding-place which had been
made by tearing the paper lining of the trunk a 1
little, thus forming a sort of a pocket.

‘ He returned to his seat and gave the envelope
into the hand of the girl. ,

She saw that it was addressed in a bold, ﬁrm F
hand to “ Maxwell Dallis, Esq., Lynchburg,
Vir inia.” '

“ hat’s the letter I picked up from the deck
of the, smack,” he said. “That’s the letter which ,
put it into my head to do what I did. Read it
aloud, Delis. ’ ‘ ‘

I The irl drew the letter from the envelope, ]
unfolds it and read aloud: ,

“ Mr um MAXWELL: ' , '

“The end cometh very ﬁidly. The capture of
Richmond is new only a u ' ion or time. Grant has
got Lee by the throat an is holding ,on like a bull-

0g. We,whip the Federals in every ﬁght, but each ‘
day finds them still nearer to Richmond. We are
be ng crushed by numbers. If we could'give Lee 1
ﬁfty, thousand fresh troops all would be Well, but
that is simply impossible. Sherman is following E
Johnson up so closely along the coast-line that he ,
can not spare a. man—Johnson I mean—ondis not '
strong enough to oﬂer, battle; he can only retreat ;
and impede theenemy's advance. In my 0 inion ;
the fatal mistake was made when we remove John- i
sonto the west and allowed Hood to butt his head 1
against the Nashville fortiﬁcations. Every thing .‘
has gone wrong since. But this is all history now, *
and it is useless to discuss it. You already know my
opinion ofour chief and: his advisers. I have risked
and lost all for on native State and nowthat I per-
ceive the cry wi soon be, f§mwe out peut‘ (save
himself who can I intend to act at once. I have
turned all my e sets into portable sha and have
arranged with the ca tain of a little b ockade-run-
ner to‘convey me to ew York. There I shall take
steamer at once for Europe. The very boldness of
the plan will I think insure its success. I have ar-
ranged for Pet to join me in New York. So, my
dear Maxwell, when you hear that I have suddenly
disappeared, and are compelled to listen tothe howls
which'will come from a certain pack orhounds, con-
sole yourselt with the reﬂection that, when the day
of disaster comes, I shall not have to how the knee
to the men whom I have fought for four y not
in the ﬁeld, true, but in the councilrchamber. on
our children in after e shall‘read the history of
Our glorious struggle, hat reprbacbes will be
heaped upon the heads of the narrow-minded bigots,
who, a: leadexsﬁmined the cause of the Southlandl
Will write you,2 om lgew York. -

 
- Yours 1: , . <
' “ Gnrn muss.”

, ' ‘9 That’s the letter that told me who my pas
senger was. I had often heard of him. ,I set
upontheedge of m cabin an’I lookedat the

sail which covered: e boxes. 'Onlythreemen .

in the World knew that they were aboard the
'smack- myself, the owner, an’ the colored man.
I sot there, an’ I thought the matter all over.
I kin remember jesthow I thought an’ what" I
thought, jest as if it were esterday. , There
was a lot of money on be my little smack.

country an’ now he was away from
his. Alllhadtodowastogoto Confeder-
ate picket an’ jest tell ’em that at twelve. o’clock
that night he would come down to the beach. I
needn’t say a word about the boxes an’ the
trunk on board of the smack. I could h’ist‘ sail
an’ go, down the river an’ the money was all"
mine. , ’

The girl listened with a beating heart. to her ;
fathers words; she full comprehended how ;
great the temptation ha been. I ' » E

“And did you go to the soldiers?” the girl ;
asgriead, at leugth,,in a voice hardly above a i
w r. '« v '
“ lprgally did,” the old man moaned. “I was _
onlyva poor weak sinner an’ the mo was too ;
much for me. I sot there a~looking a the her i
es kivered with the sail, an’ the devil ke t I
whispering in my ear that they would all 5
mine if I only) went on shore an" said-a dozen
words or so the At last I Ielded; I
E31611 hat'downover my eyes, an I’iucmﬁed 1

tothggoet 'en’pulled to the shore. ' _ ed, §
Jethro an told him to stayhn’ mind the skit! i

 
. , v 51
would be back soon, an’ then I put for: ‘- “I

the inﬁgeﬁogér IQ”, worksheet:
 e— . \ .‘WM‘    ‘ ‘
  E'ﬂmmﬁﬁﬁlhjt did}; ,  me, 

ésla pe

'anyt in

 the signal. The no

   
asif I‘ was ten’ .min’tes goin’ it. An’ allthe way,
alo the devil an’ the cod

i 1: were having a regglar ,

ut the devil was too strong: he had , ,
miserable sinner that I was, tight'i‘n, his
as ‘ ,

“ When Ireached the picket
Confederatecolonel there that
or three times before.

had met two

as he listened to me. :

“ ‘Glyn Dallis rat-like. is going to leave the 

sinkin shi , eh? he muttered. ,

u s es” said. I , '7: k
“ ‘ My ﬁne fellow, you’ve done quite right in
comin to me with this information,’ 'and‘ be

me on the shoulder. .‘ If it was any-
else, I don’t think I should trouble my
hea much about it. But he’s one of these.

dolphs of noke. ' I owe . a _, e
thou h‘t I wasn’t ood enough for hzsdaug‘gster,
and e dainty 7, turned uglier-neon sin:
NowI’ll pay OR the debt.’ ,  ' .. ‘. _

“Then he told me that I must ' ahead,5‘ 'mf »
the same as if I had not said anytgigig about 

 
comin —'-4that he would :armnge.

3’

passeuglelis
eve t ' 3: all ri '13. Of ,course I didn’tasay'
_ to the o oer about the boxesand the,
trunkw, chlhad tonboard. ' "
r“ The road to
short, but the We. back to
more .like'ten m‘ es than four.
{dark when’I got on board the smack. ,Jethro
wondered at the boxes, because we never used:-
tocarryanycargoback. " " '  * '

beach~ ‘ seem

“Oh, Dehe, yen can’t guess how I that:

night as I sat counting,r the hours and trailing
for midnight tocomel ‘ r . .  _.

,CHAPTERXXXI. y'. ., ,
DOWN rnn‘ mrrsnmnocx.  '   :
TEE old man bowed his head in his 
groaned aloud; the rembrance of the fatal night
when he had yielded to temptation and 
his soul for gold, was asfresh in his memory,”
if it had been but yesterday. i . »  ~ 151
‘ Delia did not speak; she rested her  
her father’s knee, and the great  chine
slowl into the sharp blue eyes. i ‘ ; g 
f At ength the old man went on 
essxon: . - — v  r ‘
“The night was; yery .dark‘, there  of
star who seeninthe sky and‘no moon: , " V, 
by leetle the shore faded into the 
at last a great black cloud seemed to f 
down onto’ us. The smack was a-hea , g 
down, tugging at the anchor jest .as lint 
living th ugin a hurry toget oft; Tandem,
turned about half-past live and-tho . . “
was settm in strong from the hay;  _
ranged w: h my passenger that herthgzygij of
me a si 1 from the .p’int, 
beach, in the skin 

‘, With do users.
in return so that he shouldknow thalamus an

 
n

right, an” that I was a—comin . , 7  
I sat on the, smackan’ Md 0‘ U ,  ‘ 

that I seemed out of sorts, £417 
wasn’t sick. ‘I never knew how’ " 

lie, till then. 01' course he didn’t know 'an
thing of what Was coming. I told him 
was waiting a. message from, the shone 
ex cte‘d would come about twelve, 311?,‘W“
wed up anchor an’ put. ‘ " ylethro 
he was sleepy, so he crawled into  nations?
laid down. . An’ I sot there. all ‘aloheijl 
hear Jethro snoring away like  ’ 
an? the swash of the waves as they came .,
the side of the smack. The wind 
up 'an’gt was blowingl pretty   :1
was pitching up an’ own, an’hitlookedlan‘f‘
Elmore was a chance othavingnpnettytsmmt

ow.‘ ‘  i - x . 

“At last half-past eleven came. ’21 

ethro up an’ got the lantern .madyito? ' 7

to twelvgrgic  ’bout as long as an the
rest at to ether. .1 , . , a -  ,

' “ e his time I looked eta:th it

ed 'est a  to twelve, J v ' '
one or,allread tohaul at.
 the lantern” veredxup , o. pieeo

vethe L V I ‘ ‘.4 
' 6* when I   ~ ' 
, ., IWmShOWnaylw

Jethro Was curled  the cabinasleepfhddi

 
rim;__ '

V ‘ .‘x ' r

t, I found a .
He had come down to ' _
the ~beach and superintended unloading when I 7'4
had had a heavy cargo. So I took'him to one" 2
side an’ told him about the bargain that I had. a,
made. He was a cold, cruel-looking 'man, this 
'oﬂicer, an’ his eyes seemed to fairly be on ﬁre 
‘ ’ '1

\

"1'19. ‘
toned‘ Virginian gentlemen, one of the 
oa grudge. {H W}

x

e picket-Est seemed, ,
e 

It was quite

'w

old'New" ‘ land 
tussle ‘in‘sdul. I
poor '.

  
f.

y .

, é:

 
X

3 a

   
. g      , .A 

 
/* .1

  
,4. - I  the

 s, f, .up‘wenta ,

' , an"
ht asecend time over (3' e water,
at right back of‘th’e "int. ’ ', You
‘ Delis, I had arranged with the o‘nfederate
~ colonel that the same signal which told my pas-
.- ' wingerall'was ri ht, was also a signal for the
are to go for im. '

 L' . the air,:1 yelled to Jethro that there was some-

 her iver.
' Jr “ The ebb-tide had set in strong an’ the stream

.. had the anchor le t the bottom 1'; an the smack
.' ._ 5 slid albng with the tide. I u
. . soon as I could, An’ jest as got her half-way -»
 nip; there come two shots from the .p’int, an’
 .1; en a whole volley of musketry. When I
' heard it, it made my blood run cold, an’ I al-
_ most let the sail go right slap back to the deck,
 but, someway, I managed tohold on. ‘
'J “ “ I got the sails up an’ headed the smack down
the river. There wasn’t a sound from the shore

., gin: muslﬁtfa ,an’ 13th; trust thing I knew
,I can myse ~ymg a my assen erhad
5‘,  ' ,thbugh was fearful that e hadﬁ’t.

» » . a W the smack straight for the

, "Twas ’bout four o’clock inthe mornin , I reck-
on; when I got down near the mout of the
, 1 river, or? there, right ahead of me, anchored
': ‘ in’the stream, was a Federal gunboat, right 011'
‘i .Windmill P’int.
i. 4,: Isaw at‘once that ’twas no use trying to steal
r past, for itwas gittin’liglheter an’ lighter every
minute' so I jest run In hind 'a wooded p’int
 his little cove that there was there, an’ made
'upjmy mind to la hid until the ' gunboat
,, got out of the way. run the smack in 0108’ to
 shore, then, as Ihadn’t had a wink of sleep,
 I'erawled into the. cabin an’ laid down. But
,  Dehe,'1 might 'est as well laid, awake, for all
i :' v‘the good that 3 cap did me. I dreamed every
 I over ag in, an’ more too, for in my
a dream I went on shore an’ saw the ﬁght there
. '-'atw,ejen'my passenger and the “sogers. I saw
him  deem shot to pieces by the muskets, an’
A, _‘ss_,w red blood a—streamin all over his pale
, ‘ face. I'tried to run away, ut I couldn’t run;
* .. .theei‘rtheeemed to give way Sight under my
steps, so that I couldn t get ahe an . . -
. ; I. I s’pose I slept, ‘n this horrible way‘ for ’bout
T'four items, when Jethro put his head into the
r  am? called me. a
5- “ ‘Cap’, ’,,’ says he, ‘here’s somethin’ awful
out here!" ,
 x“ I got u an’ crawled out, an’ there, ﬂoating
down on e tide, in a pile of driftwood was
the’dead bodypf my passenger. Oh, Deliel I,
 seeitnowgaest as plain as I. did then. He
 on his back and his white face,
 as lee e red woun in .his temple, was
pursuing) to the/sk . I jest, looked at' it a
a cutting”! then I Wen over in a ﬁt. When I
  Jethro was asbending over me
  whisky, down in throat. The
 nighad gone, on wit the tide. ‘
'-“‘~Jethro ea ’

 
 V “that I had raved like all os-
" ml I saw that he hadn’t an idea is at
11 killed.

it, wasthréuggiognethat the man had
 ‘fThe gun t went up the stream in the
 an’ jest as soon as it commenced
 sail and ran across the bay.
’ Jwasaleetleyﬂlage on the, western shore
anaryland where I had. been used to make a
landing, an’ I ran straight for it jest as if I was
to laud‘my cargo there. You see,
> Was necessary to get rid ofJethro, ’cos
it I sailed straight for New York, as I intended
 hewould had a suspicion that there was
somethin’ wrong. It ,was ’bout three in the“
W; .. When we rdn Into the Maryland shore.

 id: ethm that hehad bettter get into the

 , an’pull in to the beach for to see if every-
thing. manilright. I pretended to be afeard
that there migb be some of label? . eral soldiers
ﬁllﬂrgTHQ knew exactly where go, for the

edearate agent lived elus’ to the beach.

 ‘. " “The moment I saw the rocket shoot up in '

A

E to live.

est  I r‘min’te’s peace. I1 dream; the whole'thing over

an’ over» every tithe I‘ go to slee , an’ lac—night,
Delis, as I came out of Beacon axton’s house,
I saw this
I ain’t got long

“ No, no, father, that is not possible,” the

idauglrter said, gently; “.the dead cannot re-

" >_ ~-thin wrong, am: for to ,take up anchor an’ let .; turn

“ And the deacon, , said that I would roast

i in hell ﬁre for what ’ve done.”

 {was a‘jest rushin ' down the be m , No sooner l .
1 rest of your life you W111 pray that you may 'be .
with the sail as I

 
> An’ as soon Delie as he was fairlv out of
ﬁght, hid 'in this gloom, I ui sail and "scooted ;
~ the I knew t at Jethro would

.40“ ha; .
nat’rally thin that I had been frightened of ‘ of it.

 
b  nboat.
 K91  straight
smuggled

 
for NewYork an’ -'-h e 3 the to which led into the garden._
the trunk an’ boxes on shore  i not like): three steps up the walk which led to

‘whom the letter ‘was (1

“ But, you have repented, father, and all the

forgiven.”
“ I know I ain’t got long to live,” the old
man muttered; “ he came to-night totell me so. ,”
“That is only your fancy, father.”
“ No no, it ain’t,” he persisted; “ I tell you,
Delie, I saw him jest as plain as I see you now.

I knew him the min’te I looked at him,‘ 9.1-.

though he don’t look as old as he did when he
was alive.” , {

“ Father, ou must give up this money, .’ the
girl said, an denly.

“Yes, I s’
belon s to. ’ve had it on my mind for along
time t at I ought to give it up, an’ pay reg’lar

or the use on it for the time I’ve
had it.” ~. - .

“This Mr. Dallis must have relatives,” the
girl said, thoughtfull ; “I will write, to this
V r. Maxwell Dallis, a L nchburg, Virginia to
cted. I guess that
he is a relation. He can tell us something
about it.” .

“ But, Delie, how kin you live without this
wicked money i” he asked, sorrowfullg. ‘

“ How did I live before?” she aske , smiling.
“Oh, father, I would fhr rather live on
and water, and know that I got it honestl , than
live-in this s lendid house and lmow the. it be-
Ion b rig ts to some one else.”

ﬁden ooked at the irl in amazement; her
strong will was as a sta for his feeble hand.

That ni ht the old man slept better than he
had since he time he ﬂoated in the Nancy Jane
down the Rappahannock. ' ‘

 
CHAPTER XXXII.
A CHANGE OF FORTUNE.)

ANOTHER week had come and one, and dur-
ing that week the good folks of iddeford had
fresh cause for wonder. ,

Dadd Embden had sold his big house on the
hill an had taken the same little cottage where
his wife and dauglhyter had formerly lived when
he had sailed the ancy Jane up and down the
coast, laden with market truck. , .

And Delia Embden had Visited all the fami-
lies for Whom she had formerly sewed, and had
said that she would be very glad to receive
their work again. '

A month before the question had been, “ How
did Daddy Embden make his money?” Now
the query had changed, and “ What has Daddy
Embden .done with his fortune?” became the

or .

by many a shrewd and skillfully at uestion
the more curious of the village fol s 4 ove to
extract the truth from Delia but the“ l, with
her Yankee cunning, was fully a mate for the
questioner-s, and‘they gained but little informa-
tion from her evasive answers.

One man alone of 7 all, the good people of
Biddeford or Saco suspected the truth, and
he kept his knowledge to himself. That man
was Deacon Paxton. , :

It was‘the ni ht before the Fourth of, July.
The day had been very warm, but the cool

’breeze, fresh from the ocean, came» with the
' duskiness of the twilight and had tempered the

heated air. ~

Down one 1212‘ ft‘h; little back strgets of} thie
town thecer o egrocerystore er’ry at -
nor, was proceeding slowly along: He halted
in front of a modest two-story cottage, which
sat back from the street, a little garden in front

nin
e be.

“I guess this is the house,” he said, 0

arosepahzglg any suspicious of, how vamable 2 the house, when the front door of the cottage

an
*Lthe‘trunk

on

    
had a large lot of greenbacks and;

 
bonds leetle by leetle an’ I
that “a “ tjwhani‘saw‘ the rocket.

\,' I

   
board- the Nancy, Jane. Jest .“opened suddenly and .
ht, the boxes were full of gold, and _ mn out to meet her Visitor.

tom 1 'c in an. 1 s in but beau-not omitto
, to”: "i h g5“  inglxoﬁéﬂd to him; ‘l‘looks as-ifyouwas
 erepOrt on the muskets, Ihain’t ada, $09809: teller? ,. ’ , ' , .

Delia Embden came run-

“ ’m_ so glad voulve come!” she eXclaimed,

"‘ bonds in it. Altogether, there was; extending both hands to him, and holding up
elastic over W036 thousand dollars. I sold her 11 ‘

to

“ al, I swowl” Je ._ cried, in astonishment,
the red'lips scram

x

 \
,i ,1

so so' but I don’t know Who it ‘

bread ,,

liliiwéni 'I hate led‘th Tm"  t9 I
“ma”. 11.. pi ,eg,,,”rproalp,1y: ,,

dead Mr. Dallis- rise up out of’ the ‘
; airth. I know what it means.
He comes for me clean out of the salt .
1 ocean,” and the old man moaned pitifully.

 
on like to have me show It. 3

“ Se. in: but it seems. kinder strange, you
know. It’s been a pro long time sincewe
Were on kissing terms, De ie,” ’

“Yes; I know it; but now;
yanythmgtomake me feel mean. I’vea eadytold
you how bad I’ve been, and you yourself shall
see how good I mean to be in the future. But,
why havon’t you been to see me before?” ,

‘ Been up to Bostin to buy goods; going to be
a partner in the store ﬁrst of September,” he
answered. x i

“ Oh, won’t that be nice?” she exclaimed, in
glee. “ You’ll be able to keep a wife then,
won’t you?” ‘

“ Yas, when I get one,” he said, a little doubt—
fully. ‘ -

“ Why, .
that?” s e exclaimed, outing just a little. “I’m
sure that I intend to cop my promise and be-
come our wife whenever you get ready to have
me. erhaps you never intend ,to get ready,
thou h?” 7 V V

“ ll squeeze you like all possessed if you say.
that ag’inl” he exclaimed, passing his strong
arm around her slender wais . “ I’m all ready
whenever you are. But I  Delie,,,what’s the
matter with your daddy? ol
all bu’st up.” '

“Well, father hasn’t got much money,” she ‘
, said, - slowly. ‘

“What in thunder has he done with it?”

“ Wh , he never had much that really be-
longed 0 him,” she ex lained.

“ Oh, thunder! yes, see n0wl” he said, un-
derstanding the facts of the case at once. “ He
was acting as agent for somebody else.” »

“Yes, that’s something like it,”.she said.
“ Of course father never said anything about

'it. i’I’Ie preferred to keep his business to‘him- . -

self. , —
“Yes, I see; and all the folks here thought
that all the money belonged to him. I s’ can

the old man’s given up his agency, and t at’s

thigreason why you’re back to the old quarters,
e . .

'u n

“ VVa], I uess you won’t stop here very long,
or else you’
how’,’ ’cos I’m ’bout ready to get hitched, if you

“ I ain’t a horse!” she exclaimed. ,

“ Wal, you know. what, I mean,” he replied.
“ Will you go to the picnic tomorrow, down to
the Pool?” ' .

“ Yes; will you take me?”

‘: Sartin! Is the old man in?”

' ‘gglgttei- get him to come, too; it will do him

And so, snugly side by side, his arm around
her waist, the two roceeded 'to the house. ' I

Hardly had the oor closed behind them when
two men, passing alon the street, in up ’
directions, encounters each other face to face
right in front of the te. ,

An exclamation o s rise came from the
lips of one, and an expres on of terror,er the
0 her. ' x ‘

The two men Were Jed Hollis,the carpenter,
and Daisy Brick, the adventurer. V '

“ Kee oﬁll” cried Brick, mi alarm, thrusting
his ban in the side‘- ket of the loose sackrcoat
which he wore.
it you attempt an attac
throggh you.

H

,rn drill a hole right

. “I ought to choke on alittle' do-
serve to be choked.” y , , on
0“ You just keep your distance ,now, or I’ll
0 pa for it, you big overgrown bully-1”
“ 66 here; why can’t you be

_ reasonable l” I
Holhs‘ asked. ~. ’ I

“Reasonable?” Brick‘said, doubtfully. ‘ ' ‘ _

I “ Yes, about that matter that we spoke about
the: 1ﬂight by the quarry; you remember that
m .

“ I should rather say that I do remember that

‘ night,” Brick replied, ruefully. The unceremo-- I

nious manner in which he had been set. down

upon the jagged stone was yet fresh in his/meme,

0 - r 1 ‘

«erh can‘t you make a bargain, then!
I hear enouﬁh of the conversation between
you and this
Now, I

she is in your power. want yen to 

mean you know about her. I’ll pay you. wall .

you said" benzeggirgags _. -_ 9-
_ you an answer then; what a dimcult matter- IIR ;‘ . v.
. S ' - V i;  '

if OllWiil.’
ZThisis just what

to satisfy you.” , '

  
please don’t say /

Jerry! what makes you talk like w

ks say that he’s "

have to make room for me some- . I

poslte"

“ ve got a revolver here-and ,

ou cowardly hound!” cried Hollis, in dis- '

give you a chance to take a ride without having '

iss Grams to know that you  * ‘
Bess some secret concerning her. In some wa « '

 
1
.i
l
i
,s
y

 
, 4A
»;‘S"~ 

.~ ',.,
g,

 
' "Ishan iﬁwr'ﬁ satisﬁedmntﬂ' 'I ﬁnd  letterstewrite   f _' lahdthat detained.      I
whatl Wentitoldmw,”f3011is said; ’ ‘ ‘. ’_ ‘ “me ailittle‘aot tines table tostaﬁt with 3; u ,t n, _ 0‘1de . .y  “We”: 
\ “' ou’llhever be satisﬁed my men ,th ; the rest, ‘1 drove down to where I keep my , 'Nwegé, _, a  , ,» ' ,   -
“as m I “ﬁlmy” 3" said, We  Wars teeterteeea» tsetse: “hrtttewm W W 
" ' “You‘won « I we , “ ' I r HOW. ‘ ‘n e. ‘ _. ,V . . ' . '  t Men    l
.1 “ .” x - aﬂ.boat ronndm the mt of the island and grove. . , : _ -  . . _
‘ 7‘ “11:3; wonyou listen to me then!” Hollis ex— 4 Standing in toiwar shonerl’l’? “I ‘r ‘ ' covered hlS strgngtgé ﬁgmhmﬁzf y to   .l ,
“Claimed, 'hreabeningly. " “I’ll lay for you, and “Yes,” the girl answered, shading her eyes soﬁething‘gnﬁnked slang ; * l‘  
 some darklnight I’ll catch you unawares, When ' with her hand and gazing out to sea. v r V ’ ' 59 as 3 1 _b 1 ' had been sewed up  » , 
'5 ' ”’ ‘ ’ “Th ‘t’ th P rl—that’sm 'boat oulmow.” After thee am Me . ~ I
you won t 13:61" ourtrefvowe}; handy, and I n “ Yogi: Sroiiisgg me once thgt you 3would take discussed. the Party brOke “P mmﬁome (102811
’ ze e 1 e u on. _« x , . r ~
iJeSBtrsicuefeelta cold shim?- chine over him at the ab $211 'wggh  I shall gaggxégnniygg to keep a; eggﬂggguaeﬁﬁgclégggrommﬁ
~ . ' ‘ _ ' t romise eorewe o 0 .~ _. _ , . . : e
L “361?an see here,” he eXpdstulated, “ ou’ll get _ a 130, no, I can not!”  e girlcned,qu1cl51y. 111170 the Ball-boat and drifted 810W}? 911* W  y
o'ur‘self in State Prison the ﬁrst thing you , “you cannot go?” he said, slowly; why _ {ch 
V w.” x , \ not? . ' _ ' I ' _
, “‘9 But 1:111 have satisfaction out of you ﬁrst-33 b“ Wuse, if I gotxgith you peggltixzvéjlistag v CHAPEEE'AEEIXIV' , I h, « ,Z,
' Hollis sai , grim  _ ’ a 0“ 1 3 eve.“ now - .9 coup e 0 ‘ ’Tnn breeze was but a cutie 29 by? scamel - 9
“ " l" h tIknow “ th r. It IS not n t for them to dose. . . _ g P a 
bout this woman?"won t tel you W a  (her: is nothing in cogmmon between you and Surﬁng the surface 0f the water, and the h 8
H 7,

w. 3

I v’

_ ,v r ‘. me, nor can there ever be; let us then .go on gagé‘ﬁﬁ gglgrésgeld Pam“ and Lydia made; J , Ly
“Youwantlto marry her, don’t you 3” Buck our sgpéag'ate $213113. through the world Without The tide too, bang on theﬂood’, mugging},  
._ . rear eaco er. , . . .  , r 
S§e%é:u:iden  ’ , , { HE Lﬁdéa, Whyd (122370“ speak in this; cruel way? :ggm,k:d%ctﬁwhich Sinclair noticed“ and re,
 oucan’tdoit.” ve eserve i. . v ~‘ ~ ' I . “‘ ,r ‘ ' , . ~ . y:-
 ’ Hollis was astonished. . , “ No, 11093 she cried, quickly, and her voxce tide Wgeihgv; 12%;? Egg? :ﬁﬁnﬁoagnégbg 
“ I tell you you can’t do it, she can’t marry trembled Wlth emotlon; _, to me you have over his watch be was as’mnished to 1. var that I 7
Jy’anybody'” 'carp\ ked' ‘ gafentlhutd andkgoog' ' 11308302h21tmi1nethlflfu§m * was after’ﬁve- ' ' r - ‘~ L  
’9‘," "h t mwonoer. '& asa wen «- y 4 IV
“ Wag, Ithgi’stnfv secfelllzﬁr as ” We 'nmslgt‘3 f a; swingers §to anaemia-ESE r6213; 6gifternoon has passed” very rapidly?” 
“Then . ’t'mar Sin Paxton? cannot , j rien s; ( a 3.5 mposm e- 1 . “ . - , ' t I,  
,“NO; Igltgncgﬂu thatyshe won’t marry any- dengemus for both egos. we cannothe friends wisgu‘ilsvzlﬁy  vacgfmyg  e 
7“  that’s some cemfort ” Hollis mut- Wl‘t‘ligufigfltllﬁslogegusdden resolution?’ he asked touLy a, (111311 311130111330 $938k Very thinly T;- 
ered. I ‘ . ’ ,  vgoﬁderi; hirdjlfyﬂabﬁas yet to comprehend reggg, 3“: 8m. (1:338): £3121?" Fiﬁ/WW1? frank J y.
I' “And new ' the uicker on make}: your e 11 ex on 0 1e ow. _ J ‘ . _ “ . I . 2, .. l  y- _,  »,
mindsto‘forget this girl, the hotter it wﬂ befor “Egs, n! have struggled against 11;, but it nowlgtggwmgeioéds‘gfoﬁpéﬁ :23!) ,_  g:
on. v ' ‘ mus e. -. . . v . . I y . I 

“ Oh; it’seasy anon ’h to Say that.” ' “ Lydia, ou must take e. sail with me this 11:” “agatgzrgilggsg égetlll’ggater, til”?  ,, 3.

“You might as we doit ﬁrst as last.” afternoon, or I have publicly said that {on I 5 all ten me why we inustbeas l. _ 

“ Ain’t this a trick on your part to fool me?” were gom to do so. One of my friends Wis ‘ed to each Gather? ‘4  _‘ H
LollieﬂSdeg. suspiciously. ' ' the loano the boat and I’refused hun, pleading “Have I not al y» told you?” shé «d; { I. v a .,
.“What the deuce doI care about the matter?” a prior engegement With you, If you do not ed with tremulousmadaccem : 119390”  k A, H
rick ﬁ‘igd, impatiently: “ I’m Diet in 1(1):? with géo, 1t $111 gIXBh rise'dto vastlly more gossip than ("Fen me over agai mien,” he 1. . ﬂy;  I A

.! Oesnot ttertome w om s e mar- 1 on ogo esal , eve y.  .  ‘ Salaam I 
5;, but ten 53:, ﬁrst and last, she won’t ‘ 1X Well, fI’wiu go hen. 1:1 I t23111In enjoy the :1 Whig, f0 be We A t I really knowtyomj I V

' r any . - ' p eesureo your company one 1, e our eager . h . ”_ r f 
.“_0n‘ I Won’t trouble you.” . ‘ 5 end then We must say good-by.” Thereyes im“ 03"}  QPEbigngﬁuW? “he   
*Hollis S Pped aside, and Brick paSSed on. of the girl were wet With tears as she‘utteredr legéngmh ml for you to k than: for, ;
.rhe carpenter somed like one stunned; ,slowly the words. I . r . V me to . nr,,hpainempliedy  y?“ my“ 

_ )e' roceeded up the street. f‘I trust that you Will reconsider your deter— have will? {hat this” balm}. our My , g  A
- a e adventurer walked rapidly away, cheek- Imitation.” r . ‘ ' Your will is law to me, 1 Whamﬁfymw _ 
“n to himself ethics esca em ‘ 'She shook her head mourntully. v ’ shall m ’1 hava but (Sue request *5 . my; I
“The 1134,11?“ nggrhave stran led medsome And Jusghat thft moment a party ofthree 011;, v e _ '   j
_ ark. nig . e um ed, as he astene 1 cm came over eroc s. t _.  ,_ “And Whatismw, she d . . in, : wig; 
g‘ ., ' _ c . ThemwaerrywdDehmhandmkandend- " , ' .Wded’ _ _ 
“f ud . ’  : ‘ .oldtlgeddy‘Embden aners. Gardnergbﬁn’ging gr  for them“ time mug.hB?ayes  i' ‘
RXXXI'I. z , u area. , ~ ' . I -r  .  ,r
' run memo- I ‘ p“I‘Iullol here they are arter e112”, Jerry ex— 10:91,, 1°“ you’ give 9’“ " remedy  ‘1‘“, _
of July» Fourth came 1) ' ht Claimed, as he beheld “1‘6 “For :m {9&3 ' u ' ’*' 'howmnn / I ‘ . : ; /
_ As it wee a holida ’ Imd e thotghtthat’ on werelost, Sinclairl, , “T521”! {ms the r I why you any that we 
lills were all Clpsed, a. mule had en otten' «“ ,hy 110, 915.011 answered, Plewnﬂyu 9° “lust be as str is; to 63' ch other and-pew 
,up,‘,and about elg‘ht ole ock it  or the tra‘oe Of‘tge pmnffuil easel? through which he had ham one of themangemay be the , 1y,” he V, ,
' . r , ,V * us passe upon 5 . i ,» y, .. ,V  I. I
%%Qm s and kinds of vehicles, from an om- J Lydia rose to her feet, but there wasstmge .g’élegi’gvgﬂguﬁﬂzﬁ mtheteii§$tsasaa 
ﬁlms (“town to a hay wagon, had been called of'coior in her cheeks end a trace of mozsture her ears. it; ed  w hm _  ~  I
nﬁO-aétion, and a motley Party, full of life and , about her eyes which dld not escape the sharp : ,, Since yam“ tom me to I t ‘ 3» ~ .
 510W“) “‘9 beam“ ' 10-0" of Dena- ' , » \ .~ she said speaking with a ’ km sew”
“Asstwenow tide, some of the male members , Ldydia adjusted the straw hat—which she her! far {min f ,- - “Your mum‘ in 
fthe€_ , headed by Jerry Gardner, pro— 111 idlyin herhend—u her head andturn- ‘miﬁe are Wmiwg’ n : You are rich  _ ‘
ned."  r for clams, it being the intention ‘_ ed to go,whenn Daddy mbden, who hadJust .am r 8110 dWI t» no I , s' _
. , 0th Clambake' _ clambered up the ﬂat rockyupon which the rty f I am “dermal”. 0g!   V,  a
' of the picnic had been were gathered,uttered_a. sharpcry of a , “Thatis , WK 1?, - - I   ,
rove of stunted pines, which sn‘dﬁvent dgwg $11,} the wokesl 123. m a heap. . ,, Yes ,, 1W  9- 7 I  r_ p  Le
shelterfromthesun. 6? ,a erryy , = ,. “ ‘ r- ¢,, - r w. ‘_ y __ y
_  strolled up and down the, The httﬁg party-clustered around the 91d 1pm). mfgoguﬁsmgﬂ “but:ng  3313 
who; been persuaded to join ,in‘ great alarm. A moments examination, from it he tmk‘aeast‘cmt “ see  
5g 3its,“Gardner, although she though convinced them that there was but11t~ said “ “31.6.1.8 m last mohthksa’ _  I,
. .. in such pleasures, had cause 1‘  The oldvcaptam had only am; “on of a  “twain mg”; ht» no
muted” ‘ ‘ L . ‘ ‘ is the meme ' {heme about me am 
I ‘ 13m;  hisﬁwme. anti 8"]?th  L in be for moment as ' as ‘ 
waerntsaoean nemmu or woe g h I ~ I  l ,,
Bﬁggvivi it bee u lam "D 1. ex sea”! Wﬁeoheck up and. . ,  to 
’ v “‘ ~ “ e” as” “ W9 3'3 9’“  Deliberatelyhe tore the check" in has: 
ragemofpureetmysey , I , lained. , , r 5 ye _. .7  r _  ,r 4
‘ ﬁght ttfttt°mrt¥§tté§gn be: p “ The tramp melanomas been we.er {ma  vfsu’m‘deﬁtlﬁ?‘ ht “m:  .-
 y”m_wa§t%ze sweetness onthe «awh- »‘ ‘°t%§,s°;ﬁ,,§g%§gtﬁﬁtyﬁshm $363313" ; ' twigs, meme is wicked who statuses
’7:  the WM? at‘once. see  Slowl the old inane “nedbise esand'look-x " , i , ’  v -
acted ‘1D in astonishment and heheld Sinclair ‘66. into ydia’e face, beigedowngoveﬁ  :‘Toeggsu'oy this money?” ,. f \ ,
‘ .11 on the rock Just above her I “Be ou'alivet” he asked, faintly and mya- “Why? , of what use is. mom? ex, , m,

o

_ , teriou y. "  , I b _ , . l ,

occu led in her dreamy me; '_ one do“ know what he’s ' t n my uy» things With? To iehipwreeked  er 1
had nick heard him approach. ner said, conﬁdently. 4.8”.“ » ’ r mghaway on some   in “:9 
it?” he cried J‘OYOUSIY»SPNBE‘_ “This is lilies Grame, tether,” Delia ex- 30“ 6"“ ocean» 3014 “WW9” 885‘“ 
9. “You seem lostjn media. I hian - r ~ , A - . ~ beneathhis feet. Ifhy destroying to wealth 

 'mpafty are at luncheon; they mlssed ~ "btfazme! Gramel” he gnuttered. PVidently in - can Purchase 3’9“, “WWI 9mm“! “5 9 “Wk”

» ,, k , . - , , , seeinan Wouldvthe? sight of“ the inﬂates!
muntemd” to go m semi] or do“ onfeel better now!” moistened. v which Promises rescue end. hometowhetbee
~ 1.: h M a a" a leewhmm WW filmeennteetttyl’e
 toned. inhrcheeks: u .11“! 9h  é, -  I -      _ ,  
L ,gﬁi‘gyeﬁfﬁxgg’ogpenthe'ground and Thﬁn’ tgfo‘   ~ rm
3    2 V ‘ . I y _ V ,Thefold  _    Maire:  
* intendedto  yibedso‘me .   g, .   ‘ ""' ‘ ‘ ’ .-. i ., av   n  

.1"
x ,1

I, I ,‘ , ,
u .s V .. C 1 x 9 l ‘ 
not-know that ‘ou werecoming,” the 1‘ Nth

 
 at “ tantrum

,     that} am worthy'to  
  .‘ v “invite!” The Words came with elfort’ from her

Utie

.. . 4.
.4 ..

. this. and her bosom heaved with, strong emotion.

 “Butva are .you hold-give me areason. 3

What have you ever done?”
“I can, not tell you,” she murmured, Iowl ,

 and the hot face was covered by the- lit 9, .

hands. * 1 j would despise and hate me when
r’ ff‘Lydia, if therewas a reason, I think you ‘
,> could tell me,” he said, slow]

I

There was a long; painfulnsilence.‘ The sun
«came nearer and nearer to the horlzon line;
the little white cloud afar of]? in the north-east

   grew larger and larger, and on the broad ocean,

I

 
.I.
around

head resting on. is shoulder. v

Little rocked either that they had been“ ‘
' drenched by the sea~waye almost to the skin
I and that the wet clothing was clinging aroun'

them. . r
“ You have something  tell me, have you

i not?” he asked.

‘ that, no matter what

“Yes; before I have always feared that you
on knew of
our kisses ave told me

have done, your love

my past life: but now

% will not falter.”

"a mile or so beyond the headland of Wood '

Island, the, white-crested billows began to roll
_ and toss. like jolly monsters of the deep. __
, “ Well, have you ﬁnished?” he asked, ﬁnding
that she did not speak.
“ No,” she said, andthe usually soft and gen-
voice was ' hoarse and strained; “ there is
' «another reason.” »
‘4 Sn it.” I
“ I 0- not love cu.” ’
. , The two morta 3 within that little sail-boat,
who sat starin at each other with white faces,

' seemed more ' e statues carved out of marble,

' “Vlandth‘eli

.,1

V  no sound came from them; a ~moment or so the

‘ Vtemp’

’l .,  Shehaldfainted.’

«.«ﬁ

1 x

 
[I  9. ca

  
' "I; Thdheavyéea that had

" l - ﬁend then, With a

 V ,_,ggs

 lfwhom he lov

  The moment he

than humans hot with the breath of life.
“Yon—do not—love me?” he said, slowl ,
1 that spoke were colorless and ,t e
eyes that ooked the question, ﬁxed an glaring.
,. The irl could not 3 ak. Vainly she at-
to reply, but ough the lips moved,

breath came in s from between the white

sigh, she sunk down: in
bottom of the boat. » -

‘ r Forgotten now more all her cruel words;
orgotten now was the white squall Coming so
on, the wind lashing the quiet waves
te-capped monsters of destruction. '
thigéght only of the fail! young girl
better than he did his own life,

lay senseless upon the bottom of the

Paxton
. and who

boot. v

  ickly he sprung to her," and lifted the he]
1925mm in hisam. ‘ p‘
, I ‘ggitted the tiller, the‘boat
swung round, and t squall struck her.

went the mast close tothe deck, and
and broken wood came down upon the

,The’boat_ shipped a heavy sea, then lighted;

- L ’ Wehbut awreck now thou h, drif awe.
 mercy of the wind andgwave. ting y

Pearl” was an excellent seaboat, and
eakage of the mast had saved her‘
1 _ . ‘Theiirstfuryofthelilowhad
 the worst; and even now the wind seemed
shown othalt its 3 h. d v ,

into the boat
hfaalmost drenched , the l '

 ..  ‘ cities it hadproduced, though, it had
the girl from her taint.
' as she look-

, faroundgand sawthe wreck. ’e was held
3, MIX; to Sinclair’s breast, and she made no
1‘ ,to bee herself,

of wind on ‘ the mast,

, 7 ng out to sea,” answered. _

,1 .1 “Are we in danger, then?” .
,V L“  ' ’

"‘. " we, ma both die here on the ocean to-
: “_ dude; death is near I takeka the
j;    , What my utte but amoment
-‘ Sim .1 601m you love you better than any.
3,1333! else in all the wide world! You are my
“118*”:‘5' We; and I can die here happy on
your , ”feelmg, but your kisses presse
; upon my 1196! she cued,pa,ssionately. .

I , CHAPTER xxxv.
3., y , ' run sronr or nan-1.1m. f
v ,A. new Sinclair looked into the face. new

 
~ " gushed with passionate love, saw the humid

eyes andthe full lips r
flower: then, with a long, in:
 the loving woman as
 / ,~
<V'<,.‘,‘Yon love me?” he murmured
, * “waes—u I have never. ‘
m?” I  never love a . I have sting»,

ng kiss, he
own for all

‘  ylagninst’it but t is more Merful
than I, and I will not’resist my fate. pfn‘fspito
tithe ' t which will cling to theaction, in

.ite‘h are 3 ln‘this world, w ‘ther we
the'for-die. am yours, until eternity.” her

{

 
.v 1.

overs from head to .

ed as the carnation.

d ' my father.

’ every da

 
' ment of our engagement wil

“ No, believe‘that!” he cried, fervently.

Then for the ﬁrst time he took his eves from
the girl he held within his arms and looked
around him. , The night was coming on rapidly;
already the gloom was descending u n t e
waters. Wood Island light, shining rightly

' some two miles to the south-west, Showed how

far they had drifted with the tide.

“I must see if I can rig a sail in some wa ,
andi then we can beat back to the barber, ” o
88.1 . ' b
. He instructed Lydia how to mane. e the til-
ler, while he proceeded to clear awa t e wreck.
Within half an hour he had,» by a1 of an our,
rigged a sail, and once more the Pearl was glid-
ing over the water, heating up outside of Strat-
ten’s Islands.

“ It will be dark before we reach the shore at
this rate,” he said, resunnng his seat at her side.
“ The good folks of the twm cities would have
plenty to talk about, but the prompt announce

be quite apt to
stop their mouths.’ * a

5 Now, must I tell you all?” she asked, nestling

down by his side. '

“Yes, all.” - -

, our hand; then; I shall feel more
cenﬂdent feeling the pressure of your touch.»

He passed his arm around her waist and drew
her up to him. I ,

“ Go on; on are comfortable new,»

“ Yes.” Then she began her story. u I am a
Virginian, born in the town of Staunton, up in,
the mountains. M _father was ite wealth ,
and I was anionly c_ ld._ When 1; 6 war bro 3

out I was twelve years old. My father was

called to Richmond and became one Of the chief
ofﬁcers of the Government. . When I was about
ﬁfteen years old, father Introduced me into so-
ciety and I saw a great deal of cgmpany; near-
1lly all -_ Were oﬂioers of the army stationed in

ichlImnd or whith S army on the Potomac.
One oiﬁcer in (particular, a colonel of a Georgia
regiment, pal me a great deal of attention, but
he was an ugly, brutal-100mg man, and I real-

ly hated him. TherewaS a Young Englishman, I

'     '

his neck,   

 
too, one of the secretaries of my father’s depart-r g

ment, who professed asreat attachment for me.
I say he was an Englishman, {or such he pro-
fessed to be, but afterward I dlscovered that he
was a rene ade Nmthen'er—-an adventurer with
out nrincip e or honor.

" A. few days after my sixteenth birthday the \

colonel made me a formal offer. I refused'him,
and when he went to my father, he said that 'I
was but a child and that ﬁve years hence would
be time enoughfor him to be looking for a son-

in-law. . - I _
, (“Then came the dark days of the rebellion; I

troops were hurried forw 1’10 the front, an

reports came back of bloody conﬂicts and that.
the Yankee soldiers were coming nearer and
nearer. My father. toe, became involved in a
quarrel with one of the Government ofﬁcers
higher in rank than himself. He never told me,
but I think it was the PrcSIdent himself. satis-
ﬁed that the Southern cause was hopeless, he
made pr'eparations to he North 'and

ﬂy to t
:thento Europe. I wasle t in bar so: the se~

cretary, and we were to go to (W ork assoon
as we could get through the lines, and there jam
He kissed mﬁne mght, bld me
good-b , and I never saw ‘ again.

“ Thg secretary came to see me;regu1arly
, but said that he could neither gain
any into {ﬁance of my father or arrive at any
plan by w ch we could escape to the North.

“ At last, just one week after my father went
away, the secretarygeame‘one morningé. said that
he had heard from nggafather, and the
leave for the North 1: night.

“ When thenight came, we set out. He took

. , ‘ me to ahouse in a narrow street where he said
loved any one-

we would t di ises. .But w an we entered
the house, foun that the Geor 'a. colonel was

there. .I , oaths instant hatIhad been
deceived. en the young man said that he had
received , , '7 as from my father that’I was
to Wy‘thecoldnel, as he hadbeen obliged to

S

we must, I

 
"ﬂrto'hurcgnemndcould no longer  me.

. my father’s

‘ here?”

, but he as not said/a wor
“ Your husband, you poor girl l” he said, com- , 1

' Emmet her honor from a

‘turnedu

been bribed b, the soldier to lure me '
power. ' But was alone and helpleSs. ,
lster came into the room, and without pa ' 3
any attention to my remonstrances, ' me

to Colonel Melledge. Then they 16 t me to my - ‘
despair,the colonel locking the door behind him, -.’

but saym that he would soon return, I was des-
perate. n my , m I concealed. a little
revolver whic my father had given me, some
time before. He' adsaid that nwar days even
woman sometimes needed weapons.

'ven me ﬁve hundred dollars in

acks when he left me. ,

“I took'the revolver from my bosom, and all
the old Indian blood of theRandolphs of Roan-
oke—I am of that family-r03e in my veins.

“ When the colonel entered the room and at
tempted to take me in his arms, I shpt him just
as if he had been a Wlld beast. Then I ﬂed into
the Open air. I turned from the narrow street
into "a broad one. The bells suddenly com-

menced to ring and the people came rushin ~  
exclaiming that the Yankeg _ '

through the street
troops had entered the city. And so they had.
Richmond had fallen! ' I never shall forgetthat
night; the negroes seemed mad With jo . - ‘

‘ I made my way as soon as I coal to New
York, but I could not discover any traces of my
father there. And one day, as I was walln'ng'
through the streets, I came face to face with

the secretary who had sold me to Melledge’. He r I

told me that Melledge was in the, ci
been in search of me. I implored
betra me. He consen

and , d
notl‘ato

. V‘s-k

He had also-
gold and green- ’ -

on one condition, _

I'knew an. it was all false. :' The shalom? (7
m .

'Amin~“

\

  
and t at was that I shou (1 go With him. Loon.  ,

sented, for I knew that the only way to escape
from him was to deceive him.
falseaddress and promised to wait for him at
my house. The moment he left me, I walked

I gave him a '

on I knew not where, until I found myself at‘ a ..

railroad depot. A train was just starting for
Boston. I t on board and came to that city.
I procured an obscurevlodging, and gave afalse
name, and strove to hide myself from all the

world. I got sewing to do, and so I li '21. ~

weary, aimless life, until this last winter fell
sick; it was a sort of a slow fever, and one day
as I sat in my little room vainly tryin v to saw,
the door opened and the secretary ed into
the room. In a cold, cruel voice he told me

that now he had found me, I must choose be—'

tween him and my husband, who, he said was.
in. the cit- searclling for me. Again]: deceitful
him, andie, thinking that I was too sick to. at-
tempt to escape, left 'me for the urpose of ’call-
ing a coach to take me away.

ut W
was, I red into the street. It was just

get ing dark and snowing furiously. ~I did not "

0 ar;Ih

onlyonewish, to die; and soiin a
ark corner I lay

“But you were savedtm

“ Yes' that
Dinah, drag me from the snow and brought
me down here, and here, for the ﬂrsttime since
. disappearance,
it is to be happy. , . ., ,
, “And this secretary has not .dlscdvered you

es, he has; he calls himself Daisy Brick
at he has not threatenedme as usual.
demanded moneya which I ave - him

46 011’-
ROW.
He onl

rsassionately. “Such a roam ‘ as You have
ascribed amounts to nothing fellowhas 1
e chances are

1a ed upon our weakness.
genjto one thgt the soldier is dead.” -

“ And can you love me—a murderous!” sb’e'

asked, fearfullyu . r I
“No, not that, but the brave girl who dared

is bright'in the future. The barriers be-

tween us are but the paper forts of the Chinese”;

villain. I Don’t'fearl

as It

dowu in that snow-bank . ’ i
thoplpsto ﬁnd the rest that had been denied:
me - , r p ’
q . I,

old colored woman. auntY' ‘

about my u'sband.” ~

a puff of wind and they are gone. And, . as for. ‘~

Daisy Brick, leave him to me. I warrant that

I’ll t’l’nd some way to get the truth outof the lie)» i A
ow. ‘ . . 
The white squall was over, and, peacehad I

come at last.

b‘

CHAPTER XXXVI. v ’ s  '1

RESTITUTION. ' . '-
ips of the‘twin cities
es uremam idle when they

01? course the
not let their to ‘
heard how, Sinclair Paxton and Lydia Grams

had sailed out into Sachay, at ﬁve alamij 
near almond they: ,
their noses.when..th/ey spoke of the“:

and had not returned until
accidentpwhich had befallen the boat. ’ v

 
I have known‘Mhat _ 

 
“ Oh, no!” they-cried, signiﬁcantly: “ Sin‘Pans \ 

I ‘

 
. “,ton’s' thogood'a sailor be can t nap in by
~ ‘a little captul of wind PER And mgllor‘ ‘twg wﬁiole,

' days poor Lydia’s charactersuifered, but on the

morning ofthe thiml day the‘scandalous allu-

‘ I sions ceased, and wondering amazement set in
when themews'papers announced that“ Mr. Sin-

- clan- Paxton, our Esteemed fellow—citizen and
Treasurer of: the Y-—--' Mills, would shortly be
united in marriage with the. young and accomq
phshed Miss Lydia Grame Dallis.’

Daisy Brick read the announcement “while
waiting for‘his turn in the barber’s shop, and
the news interested him so greatly that he at
once started out to interview the prospective
bridegroom. '

He found Paxton at his ofﬁce in the mill.

v He opened ﬁre at once. Daisy had calculated
’ . ‘that Paxton would come down pretty heavily.
’ In fact, he had made up his 11) nd to “ strike ”
him for a heavy “stake.’ ' .
 Brieﬂy and‘with graceful coolness, he “ went
‘ for ” his ,ntended victim.
 f‘You are about to marry Miss Grams-or,
Miss Dallis, torspeak more preperl l” he said.

1’, i
,1.

 
. “What’s that to you, sir?” axton said,
, sharply, i ‘ . .
_ Daisy saw that it was necessary to strike a
" down blow. ‘ -

“ I have information, sir, which will prObably
‘ Prevent your marriage, if I choose to make It
public."
‘1 You are Mr. Brick!”
 I, “Yes, sir.” , ‘
' _ DaiSy was rather astonished at being
known.
“‘Formerly secretary to Glyn Dallis of Vir-
’, gimal” '
g “Yes—yes, sir.”
Palsy began to feel a little uncomfortable.
j ‘W, o assisted Colonel Melledge of Georgia
In I! most scandalous outrage, and by means of
which the said colonel met his death ’ x
' I ., The ground had been cut from under th
~ $3333.! the adventurer, and he couldn’t utter a
, ‘ Paxton saw at once that he had essed
the truth. He was quick to follow up is ad-

View

- , NOW. air, tahe‘my advice and get outof

Blddeford. ConﬁdeDCe rascals of your stamp

are npl’o Wanted in our communit .”
§H?k«lmked at Paxton, blan ly, for 9. mos

men”. then turned upon his heel and left the

.0 Ge.
, The adventurer was seen no more dn Bid-
. deford. ’ '
. . \It was on that ver
‘ . than drove old Daddy
'Paxtgn’s. . ‘ ' .
“ Inwant to see you on a leetle matter of busi-
nqss, the oldman cried, as the deacon appeared
at the from door, and. Peleg got out quite
welggiiie ri hti I i
\What alt!” 11’
k ' ’ _ - 6 two sat down in the arlor.
_ “ Will. that an’ foremost? is ittrue that your
"son. Si » issoing to marry that galLiddy,
as the pa. r says?"
, .-; _ “ Yes. believe that the report is true.”
, i   “Kinder sudden, ,ain’sitr' ‘ ‘ '
 . xi "9W9": 110; there’s been a little love affair
' - gain on'for some time, I think.”
. “ elie says she’s a petty nice 1.”
ﬁle match, a1

1

same afternoon that Na-
y Embden over to Deacon

Peleg,” the deacon said.

I ,

“Y‘és; I’ve no.6 jections to
thou she is a poor Ln
\ “ glacle  , , .
' I . “W y. g M18. din,” . 

" ‘ rather astonished at thy questilian‘fi e deacon,

. a 2‘ She ain'tpoor!” . , .«

" V “N 0 . a ' ‘ r
9‘ t ei ht -one thousand dolls ’

,,.l ’ aﬁntergest’fm that for seven em’ 3n pm?"
as ,, y are.
,, . ' ' ‘The deuce you say! exclaimed the deacon,

‘ >9  betrayed into uttering, an exclamation which

a savored more of the World than of the church.
. ..  ‘ , u Fact, I’ve  tha keer 0‘ her growl-by evgr
'I  since May, 1865. I’ve brought t e documents
 ,3' all over with me, an’ I want you ‘30 hold mete
, ‘a proper account. There “’88 lest e hty-one
 4' thousand dollars, and then the regular egal in-
, ,. temaincel .” , v
i ‘ ' “But how did this money come in
:  hands?” Paxton asked. in astonishment.
 -‘ p “ Wal, it's, a» king story, deacon,” the old man
‘ , « replied, in some little confusxon. ‘_‘ But the
shorter ibis that her dadd intrusted it to me,
an’ then beget killed, an’ didn’t know where
_ ,. the gal was. anfm Wal, in course, it don’t mas,
  abet much- I’Ve'gotthe money, an’ I want you

_ .  its, hold me right.de to a strictly pr er, ac-
 jcount, withrlegal interest.” Then the o d man
 took a large banana: pa ‘ rs from his ket.‘

'. F'Ther'e‘s the bull thing

you?

 
i
.3 V I, g n _ . ~‘ . § , ~ , ,, 4  . , , f F t» i, _> . .
gross tlhaatteygu¥guallm fight? 139:3; ﬁmﬁjggih:    I"? *

 
‘ .“That’s my hos ,” and Em-bdenchuckled in

the blood of Pocahontas is in her veins.”

 
gured'but. De 1e. did’ '

 
ii an"? essehe’s at it, g,straight' new it
{aft Ii make‘it egaightﬁ- r  ’ ” “ ’

 
acon said, kindly; . ,

“‘ That’s gospel truth, deacon!” the old man
said. solemnly. ' 6‘ I’ve heered in m time a sight
of men who were pewerfnl go .in hollering
for the ospel, but they ain’t got it in their .in-.
wards l e you have. Say, deacon, I’ve got a
question toput to you ’bout this money. You
know PVe had it a‘ putty long time, ah’ I've
r’ally made more than proper legal interest out
of it, say about eight or ten thousand dollars
over; who does that belong ‘tol I ain’t very
young, new, deacon, an’ I can’t go back an’ be-
%m_over ag’in; then,‘ I got my darter, too,

she; she’s got. the right religion, too; she
’rastled with me when 1 was Weak. She ain’t
very strong, an’ these pesky sewing-machines-
grlekenpugh to kill a jackass, let alone the women
0 s. .

'“ All ovar and above the eighty-one thousand
dollars, and thelegal interest thereof, belongs
to you, Peleg; you-can keep it with a clear con-
science. The steward is worthy of his hire.
But, in regard to the papers, come to-night,.
when Sinclair will be home, and We’ll run over
them to ether.” ’ *

“Muc “obliged, deacon,” and the old man
rose to depart. '

“ Not at all
Pele .” l

“ ay, deacon!” cried the old man, suddenly,
pausing in the doorway, “didn’t you tell me
once that on didn’t believe in ghosts?” , .

“ Well, don’t remember whether I ever told
you so or not, but I certainly do not believe in
them,” the deacon answored.

“You’re right, deacon, by hooky; there ain’t
anysuch things.”

Then Embden climbed into the buggy, and

Nathan drove 011'.

Asthe buggy cended the hill, on the Bidde- ‘
ford side, mb en ,suddenly addreSSed the
driver. ‘ ‘ * ’

“ Say, Nathan, do you remember the 'night
when you drove me along here an’ I thought I
see’d a host?” » g

“ Wa , I calculate I do,” Nathan replied. “ I
thought you was goin‘ clean ravin’ distracted.”

“ You didn’t see anything, did you‘?”

“ No, I s not; only a couple of theJnill
ghrls a4alkin’ down at the corner of the street.”

“ One on ’em had on a straw hat au’ a water- ‘
proof cloak?" r' '

“Miss Liddy
ton?” -

“Wal, now that you speak of it, I. guess it
was.” Nathan couldn’t understand what the
old man was drivin at. ‘

; you are [heartily welcome,

that’s goin’ to marry Sin Pax-

great glee. “ ‘ used to know her father; he’s

dead an’ gone now, an’ I had no 1 cc that either '
kith nor kin of his was ’rnund th se parts. He

used to wear a leetle straw hat, jest like the one

she’weers,‘ an’ in the dark, with that cloak

wrapped around her. she looked jest like him.

Tell you, what, Nathan, I don’t believe in spirits

no ow;

Hollis swore outright that he wouldn’t stay in
Biddeford tosee the woman he loved married
to tbe‘man he hated; so up to Boston he went,
and in} drunken ﬁt shipped for a three years’
voyage in a Whaler. bound for the South Paciﬁc.

The Wedding Sunday came at last, and two;
couples went into the church single and came
out marriedr Delia Embden became 
Gardner, and Lydia Dallis, Mrs. Sinclair
Paxton. » '

As they came from the church,
thought occurred to Sinclair. A
“That ivory picture?” he said. ., ' . '

“My father’s portrait,” she replied; “I did
all I could to shake your faith, but it was firm
as the rock.” “, v > - 7
' “ And the Saco’s curse?” the deacon asked, as
they sat in the parlor aftel‘ tea. .
. “Has passed away,” Sinclair replied; “the
Indian blood has come, again into the family.
Lydia is a descendant of Randolph of Roanoke,

 
I a sudden

=  story'istold. A strange ,girl' is trans

 
formeddntbahapPy wife‘andsoweleave heft...‘ . ,  . ,
1 ’ v i  ' '- <~ ‘  or be sent: id. n .. . i
' v R ‘ ' ' 333953.55 emit). aggwfﬁnmgéxltﬁm‘ W

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NOW READY AND 'IN PRESS.

1 Adventures of Buﬂ‘nlo Bill. From Boyhood to Man
hood. Deeds of Daring, and Romantic Incidents in the early
life of William F. Cody. By Col. Prentiss lngraham.

2 The Ocean Hunters; or, The Chase of the Leviathan. A
Romance of Perilous Adventure. By Captain Mayne Reid.
83" An extra large number. ﬂ ’

3 Adventures of Wild Bill. the Pistol Prince. Remarkable

weer of J. B. Hikok, (known to the world as “ Wild Bill "), giving

the true story of his adventures and acts. I By Prentiss Ingraham.

The Prairie Ranch; or, The Young Cattle Herders. By J 06.

E. Badger, Jr. , “

Texas Jack. the Mustang King. Thrilling Adventures in

the Life of J. B. Omohundro, “Texas Jack. ” By Col. P. Ingraham.

Cruise of the Plynwny; or, Yankee Boys in Ceylon. By C.

Dunning Clark, ~ .

Joe: The History of a Young “ Border Ruffian.” Brief

Scenes from the Life of Joseph E. Badger. J r. By A. H.,Post.

Hyawny Aﬂoat; or, Yankee Boys ’Round the World.
ByC. Dunning Clark. ‘
Bruin Adams. Old Grizzly Adm' Boy Pard. Scenes

01 Wild Adventure in the Life of the Boy Ranger of the Rocky
Mountains. By Col. Prentiss Ingrabam.

1°.  Snow Trail; or, The Boy Hunters of Fur-Land. A Narra-

tive OfASport and Life around Lake Winnipeg. By T. C. Harbaugh.

1 1 0 w Adams, the Bear Tamer; or, The Monarch of

the Mountain. By Dr. 'Frank Powell.

12 Wood: and Waters;‘ or, The Exploits of the Littleton Gun

all“). ’By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. \

ram-c.9010.

Stone : Incidents in the Career on Sea and Land as
303' and Man. of Col. Prentiss Ingraham. ,By Prof:Wm. R. Eyster.
#4 Adrift on the Prairie, and Amateur Hunters on the
By Oll Coomes.
15  Gorgon, .0! Guides; or, Mountain Paths and
. Prairie Trails. By A] to W. Aiken. ‘
6 ' ver Rovers; or, Life and Adventures in the Northwest.
By C. Dunning Clark.
17‘  and Plain; or, Wild Adventures of “Buckskin Sam."
a (Ma or Sam 8. Hall.) By Col. Prentissylngraham. , i
18  and Revolver; or, The Littleton Gun Club on the
, B‘malﬁvRange. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker.
19 Wide-Avgan the Bo Pioneer; or, Life in‘ aLog
_ Cabin. Incidents and Adventures in the Backwoods. By Ed. Willett.
20 The D I n; or, The Story of General George A.
Custer, from est Point to the Big Horn. By Capt. F. Whittaker.
1 ’gnesglmm m‘Boy ; or, Why Wild Ned Harris, the New
» a ’
Edwargoh geek”: me the Western Prince. of the Road. ) By
he Yen . .
22 'gy T. C. lyiarbaugh‘ 0f Siberia, , or, The Watch Dog of Russia.
23 Paul De Lacy. the French Beast Charmer; or, New
York BOYS in the J “118193. By C. Dunning Clark.
24 The Swm-d Prince: The Romantic Life of ColbnelMonster‘y,
{American Champion-aberrant) By Captain Fred. Whittaker.
25  the CPI!!!) Fire 3 01‘. Snow-Bound at “Freeze-out Camp.”
A Tale of Rovmg Joe and his Hunter Pards. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
26 Snow-Shoe Tom 3' 01‘. New York Boys in the Wilderness. A
' Narrative of Sport and Peril in Maine. By '1‘, C, Harbaugh, _
27 Yellow Hair, the Boy Chiefof the Pawnees. The Ad
venturous Career of Eddie Burgess of Nebraska,‘ By Co}. Ingrabam,
28 The Chase of the Great White Stag and Camp and
Canoe. By C. Dunning Clark. '

29 The Fortune-Hunter; or. Roving J or; as Miner, Cow-“Boy.

Trapper and Hunter. By A. H. Post.

Walt, Ferguson’s Cruise. A Tale of the Antarctic Sea. By
C. Dunning Clark. ‘ ' ‘ '
Boy Crusader; or, How' a Page and a Fool Saved 3 King.
By Captain Fi‘edei‘iék‘Vbi‘ttﬂkBN ' E .

\: .

 
32 White Beaver, the Indian Medicine Chief: or, n. no.

r mantic and Adventurous Life of Dr. D. Frank Powell, knownon the '

’ Border as “ Fancy Frank,” “ Iron Face,” etc. «By Col. 1’. Ingr'ahagn.
33
Among the Flees.

The Young Bear Hunters.
of a Party of Boys in the Wilds of Michigan.

By C. Dunning Clark". -
A Story of the Hops and Mishaps

34

By T. C. Harbaugh. .

36 Smart Sim, the Lad with a, Level Head; or, Two Boys '

who were “Bounced.” By Edward Willett.

37 Old Tar Knuckle and His Boy Chums; or, The Monsters:

of the Esquimaux Border. By Roger Starbuck.

38 The Settler’s Son; or, Adventures in Wilderness: and Clean l:

ing. By Edward S. Ellis.

89 Night-Hawk George, and His Daring Deeds and Adventures
in the Wilds of the South and West- By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. =

"By: 

40 Thelce Elephants or, The Castaways of the Lone Coast.
Captain Frederick Whittaker. ‘

The Pampas Hunters;
By T. C. Harbaugh.

41

“By ,Morris Rodwing.  '
35 The Lost Boy Whalers ; or. In the Shadow otthe North Pole.

Captain Ralph, the Young Explorer; or, ThéICentiredé j 

or, New York Boys in Buenos Ayresl‘; 

42 The Young Land-Lubber; or, Prince Poﬂer’s First Cruise. and":

By C. Dunning Clark.
‘48 Bronco Billy. the Saddle Prince.

lngraham. .

44 The Snow Hunters; or, Winter in the Woods. By Barry .
De Forrest. ' ' ~. '. 1' I ,

. 45 Jack, Barry and Tom, The Three Champion - .or f

Adventures of Three Brave Boys with the Tattooedl’irate.
Captain Frederick Whittaker. ‘

The Condor Killers; or, Wild Adventures at the
By T. C. Harbaugh. '

47 The Boy Coral Fishers
Roger Starbuck. '

4B

48 Dick, the Stowaway; 0?. A Yankee 3037’8 Sum  :j 

By Charles Morris. ‘

49

the Mississippi. By Edward Willett.

ByColgiel Prentiss " V ‘

Tip Treason, the Floater: or, Fortunes and Misforth our

’9 ,‘ =
 _ f, g}.
3’ or, The Sea-Cavern Scourge.  

 
50 The Adventurous Life of Nebraska; Charlie.(Chas.  i‘ "

Burgess.) By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. . r

51 The Colorado Boys; or, Life .on an Indigo Plantation,   .

Joseph E. Badger, Jr.

52 Honest Harry
Charles Morris.

53 The Boy Detectives;
By T.‘C. Harlmugh.

54 California Joe, TheMysterious Plainsman.

Ingraham. '

hy'Col. Prentiss-r

; or, The Country Boy Adrift in the   1"]

or, The. Young Californian; in   ,_

55 Harry Somers, The SaiIOr-Boy Magician. By S. W. Pearce. “if

56 Nobody’n Boys; or, Life Among the Gipéies By J. M. Hem“; ‘

man. '

57 Th ‘ Mmaarie Hunter; or, Fanny Hobart, the Animal 1 5":

'Queen. By Major H. Greenville, “ Sea Gull."
Black Diamonds. By Charles Morris. 2
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 ch you Choose? or two boys. The Village with One Gentleman. For ht females The R n .w. For several c are. r
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The Public Meet'
The Enth Trove or. .For two males.

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Dress Reform Convention. For ten females. -

Keeping Bad Company. -A Farce. For ﬁve males.

Courti Under Difﬁculties. Two males, one female.

Natio Representatives. A Burlesque. Four melee

Esca ing the Draft. For numerous males.

The nteol Cook. For two males. 1
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Honor toWhom Honor is Due. melee andl exhale.
The Gentle Client. Several males and one f male.
' Phrenolo . A Discussion. Ferment! ‘
k . The Stub shown Volunteer. 2 males and 1 female.
, ASeene from “Paul Pry}! Ear I :males-

, .. The Change; For three males an one female-
Bee. Clock and Broom For three little girls.
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TheCrimeso rose. 311 “FOI't
The Reward of BenevOlenoe. or tour mﬁ .
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‘ If 011 Mean N0, Say No. The Useful Dog-tor, Hon. J. M, Stubbs’ Views New England and Union, Bmmley S S Litt e Jnrev,  
,Jo fgo‘ws on Leap Year, The Waterfall ‘ on the Situation, ’ The Unseen Battleﬁeld, The Bﬁme’ ,second mm“ Angling S Lament, ', ‘ I A I ,
Y 1'3}? 0f. the Hon eoked, To the Bachelors‘ Union Hans Schwackheimer on Plea fox-the Republic, The ,FISher. 3 Child, Jo 113’ Shrimps 0“   1‘
Bo Skinner’sEegy, L e, ’ ’ Woman’s Suffrage, America, [Fallacy, Shaw , SChOIa’m *‘ Igg’g' H, "‘ , _ xi
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' " l " as 60h from Conscience, A  on, The  Dog, I ‘ Fashlpn 011.010  V ‘r
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, , v Oasien’s Addr‘em’ to the Paradoxical, ‘ Farmers, [Our Country Unjust National Acqni’n, A 18“ 0’ , Them om. f .I 
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' ’ a
*lll"ﬂl}aﬂon or A Your: Girl’s Good Name.
.,‘..  'By 3 ' a?

' ‘ 111.:
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‘45 Her Hidden ~Foe;

"ﬂ 4T Because '

4

    
.___ .._-.._ Hm. - ..

1 The Masked B ide; or, Will She Many
A ﬁlm? By Mrs. Mary Reed Urowell.

2 Was It Love? or, ngegiuns :‘and Sweet-
hearts. By Wm. Mason rner, M. D.

8 The Girl Wife; Or, The True and the False.
By Bartley T. Cam bell.

4 A Bi‘aVe Hear 3 or, Startlineg Strange.

.. , .By Arabella. Southworth.

'5‘ Bessie Raynor, the \Vork Girl' 0-,
The Quicksands of Life- By William M’as n

v Turner M. l

, . , .
6 The s. eret Marriage; or, A Duchess ' ill 3

Spite of Zlel'self. B Sal-a (llaxton.
7 A Daughter of ve; or, Blinded by Love.
' By Mrs. Mar Reed Crowell.
g8 Eleart to lawn; or, Fair Phyllis’ Love.
“ , By Arabella. Southworth.  v
9 Alone Inthe World; or, The Young Men’s
Ward. By the'author of “Clifton,” “Pride

and Passion “’ etc.
10 A Pair 01’ Gray Eyes or, The Emerald
' Nee . By’Rose Kenne y. .
11 Entangled; or, A Dangerous Game; By
Henrietta Thackeray. "

’12 ms Lawml Wire; or, Myra, the Child of
'.Adoption. By Mrs. Ann S. Stephens.
13 Made: ,jhe Little unkeress or, The
x . Navel t’s Woon . y Corinne ushman.
14 Why, I Married 1m; 01‘, The Woman in
Gra I. By Sara. Claxton. I
15 A air Fat'e' cry-Out in the World. By
ley '1‘. Cam hall.
16 Trust Her. at; or, A True Knight. By
. , Margaret Leicester. ‘
.711 A Loyal Lover or, The Last of; the Grime-
lfeths. B Arabe Southwortlz.
18 is Ido ° or The Ill-Starred Marriage. By
Mrs Mary ed Crowell. ’

‘ {19 The'nrokﬁu' Betrothab ' or, Love versus

Grace Hal

, . y cry e.
_ 30 Orphan. No“ the Gran e 01 l , T

 Lost Heir. By’Aglle Fe 3 r 3 or he
-21 Now and. Forever;

nne.
or, Wh Did She Mar-
Him? By Henrietta Thackexyay, »

Bride ot‘an Actor; or. Driven from
l Home. By the author of “ Alonein the World,”

., *4 Clifton, ’ etc. . I .
231.com Year; or, Why She Proposed. By Sara

v n.
. 24‘ Her Face Wall Her Fortune. By Elea-

, ' nor Blaine. .
95’ Only a Selloolmistress; 01;.l Her Untold

Secret. By Arabella Southwort .

J 26 Wmlithout a Heart; or, Walking on the

By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham.
a Coquette ? v or. A Strange
By Henrietta Thackem

_ an S. Stephens. r
29 lol- or Dear Sake; or. Saved From Him-
‘ B Sara 019.1:

11. ,- y ton.
, e Bologna Girl ; or, A Million of Money.

 Agile enue.
AB;[ '0. Mari-la ° or The Iron Will. B
» Bouillon”, Y _ y
- 81 no me, the Prime noan or, Roses
3. and  B ﬁgment. Soutlézort . m of
Tile ee ere or. e My; .
,1, Lord Chalfont. B Allie Fleming. '3'
'34, A Marriage » Convenience; or. Wile
B Sam Ciaxto

y 12.
Her tor. The Winthrop Pride.

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3’! The Countr Cousin or All is not Gold
‘ that Glitters. ’13 'Rose Kénne‘dy.
wot a tailor, Trust Re: Not. By
hello Sou wort . l

mobAhorbenell. (1? pic 80
to M

. gm. ,,
ed ~ arry ;‘ or, In Love’s Bonds.

_ I _ , m

n  31.333m ﬁroﬂon'; ior. Love Against the
' ’ 4 neuri e

' 3 Love.’ 

Alice Flem 
the Scout fair; or, His Second
, l . Arabella Southwo h. -.

43 The 'llaronet’s Secret; or, The Rival Half.

Summation. .

Mu§hter; or, Brother against
V Alice leming.
or,- Love At All Odds.
‘ By Arabella Southworth. ’-
‘ 46 The Little Heiress; or, Under a. Cloud.

By Mrs. Mar A. venison. ‘

ver.

It End? By Alice Fleming.
' 48 In Spite 01' Herself;
ration. .By S. R. Sherwood. V I .
49 Hie Heart’s Mistress; for Love-at Firs
Sight.“ ‘By Arabella. Southwortli.
50 The Cuban Heiress' or, The Prisoner of-
Luylntmsse. ' By Mrs. Mary, A. 'Denison, (
'51 Two Young‘ﬁirln; or, The Bride‘of on
‘ g'Eol-l. By Alice Fleming. . . ~ v

 '1 ’ The W’l ed Meagan or or, Riskin‘l All
.1   fora "if g RgodC-rowell? ' i
. ' . ,53

Bee. By Mrs. Mary The M
men 110 e the Actress or,
chance of ePRllbyl Ring. By out Mason
Turner, )1. I). * .

 
[9- y.
Chase; or, The Gambler's. Wife. By 5

e Lovedlllm; or, How Will e
or. Jeanette’s Repa- 3

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1 a
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54 One “’oman’s Heart; or. Savednym the

, Street.
55 She Di
' Conquer.

BK George S. Kaime.
(1. 0t Love Him; or, Stooping to
By Arabella Southworth.
or Betrothed Married, Divorced
nd —~—-. . B Wm. Mason Turner, M. D.
Brave ‘lrl; or. Sunshine at Last. By
Alice Fleming. ‘ ‘
Mask; or. The Mysterious
Guardian. By Mrs. Mary Reed. Crowell.
59 A .Widow’s Wiles; or, A. Bitter Vengeance.
By Rachel Reinhardt.
60 Cecil’s Deceit; or. The Diamond Legacy.
' Mrs. Jennie Davis Burton. .
61 A icked Heart; or, The False and the
True. By Sara. Claxton.
62 The Maniac Bride; or, The Dead Secret
of HollowAsh Hall. By Margaret Blount;
63 The Creole Sisters; or The Mystery of the
, Perrys. By Mrs. Anna. E. orter.
64 “Ilia: Jealousy Bid; or, The Heir of
Worsley Gra. . By Alice Fleming.
65 The “’11er ecret; or, ’Twixt Cup and
Lip. By C01. Juan Lewis.
66 A Brother’s 8111' or, Flora‘s Forgiveness.
By Rachel Bernhardt.
67 Forbidden Bans; or, Alma’s Disguised
.Prince. By Arabella Southworth. .
68 Weavers and Welt; or "Love That Hath
Us In His Net.” By Miss  E. Breddo .
~69 Camille; or, The Fate of a. Coquet e. By
Alexandre Dumas.
#70 The Two 0r hans. By D’Enery.
71 Mg Young ife. By My Young Wife‘s
. usband

'72 The Two Widows. By Annie Thomas.
73 Rose Michel; or The rials of a. Factory
Girl. By Maud Hilton.
74 Cecil (‘ustlemalue’s Gage or, The Story
of a Broidered Shield. B Oui a.
75 Tnhe Black Lady 01" un‘u. By J. S. Le
anu. .
76 Charlotte Tom 1e. B Mrs. Rowson.
77 Christian Oak e 9s lstake. By the
author of “ John fax, Gentleman,” etc.
111 Young Husband; or, A Confusion in
t e Family. By Myself. I
79 A ueen ' Inon’gst Women BV the
AGilded

0

get orot “T Cost of Her Love,” “

in," “Dora Thoms,”-etc., etc. _
sooner Lyndrmdiuaster. By Florence

I ﬁarrya. -. ‘ I ’ Q

81 Lucy Tom 1e, Slater of Charlotte.
82 A’ Long '1‘ me Ago. By Meta. Orred. . ,.
83 Péaylng for High Stakes. ByAnnie

mas. , » .
84 e Lau cl Mush. y the author of
lgglohnyllali’éw, Gentlemen."
85 Led Astra,“ By Octave Feuillet. .
86 J aneﬂs, Repentance. By George Ellot.
8‘; The Romance o-t‘a Poor Young Man.
By Octeve Feuillet.
88 . Ter It, Deed; or, ‘All for Gold. By
me.
89’ A Gilded
Thorn ”

‘ onJones. . ~ ,
By the author of "Dore
90' like
H

n.

owitt. v . ’
0| 'l‘ﬁe Jilt. «ByChorleoReode. ‘ -
9‘ B een lanna ‘or theDown of theDoy.
‘ ’ By Demﬁs'O’Sulli‘vuni « “,8 v

93 ‘ove’s Victor .5 B 3.1...  -.
94 he Quiet He‘rt YB HrmO pliant. ,,
95 nettlceAAx-nold. 4 By Marni

96 Haunted Hearts or. The Broken Be-
trothal. By Rachel mhardt.. .
9‘1 ‘ ugh Me ton. 'Byxathorlne 
98 lice Lear out. ByMissllulockh ‘
99 til-giggle, rueem Lovers. "By‘ Mary
t a.

Pa. . .
l Throth -F e and Water. ByFred‘
00 erick Talbot it ‘

1m Hannah's Mss Mullock.
'1 0% ,iengomltigtsnh Bﬁyc‘hEgles  ' “
1 . .s era e ee . kgle .
1g»! sumo?“ on the Show. yB. 

eon. ‘ l
105%110 great Haggai-w Diamond.‘ By
. ,. hackeray. .
lOGiErmgi grooms to Waking. By E.
11 ll 11. '
107 Pm»- Zephz' ByF. W. Robinson.
108 The Sad Fortunes ofthe new.
. Barton. By‘GeorgeEl t '
109 Bliesird-end-Cheese
. .. e eon, ..
110 glue lgondering Heir. By Charles
v e. ,, J '
‘ Brother’s Bet' . or. Within Six
-nl $35“ By Emilie FR ’ Cation. ;
112. A Hero. iss

Anion

1 1 3 ram. and Virginia, From the French or

‘_ l , din De St. Pierre.
114% $233.11: Trafalgar"! 39:17- By} Wal-
’ tar. Besont James Rice.
115 The Maid of Killeenn. By William

' , ‘ side .10st .orr'l‘he Raid of
gifhwﬁictpmﬁm. ilm’m ‘ '

.5

l

« no
I‘Amel‘ican Copyright «Novelsand' the Cream of Foreign Novelists,. Unabridged, FOR FIVE CENTS! :
 , ' ' ' ' The Cheapest Library Ever Publishe “ y . ' ’ r

i 137 The Village on the cum

' 138 Poor Valeria!

v 9 a . _ v .
Author’s "Daughter. By Mary

Far- '

l . .v
:3“! .Kleoeo. By.

 
d!f

 
118. Th . Vicar of Wakeﬁeld. By Oliver
- Goldsmith. , . r

119 Maud Mohan. By Annie Thomas;

120 Thaddeus of Warsaw. By MissJane.

Porter. ‘
121 The King of Nil-Land. By B. L. Far-
ll

. jeo .

122 Lovcl, the widower. 'By W. M. Thack-
era . ‘ ’

123 An Island Pearl. By B. L. Farjeon;

124 Cousin Phillis. , ' . ~'

125 Leila; or; The Siege of Grenada. By Ed»
ward Bulwer (Lord Lytton). ‘ '

126 “'hen the Sh! l Comes Home. By
Walter Besant and ames Rice.

127 One of the Fulnily. By James Payn.

128 The Birth right. B Mrs. Gore; -

129 Motllcrlcss; or, The owner's Sweetheart.
By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. / ‘

130 Homelel-ls; or, Two Orphan “Girls in New
York. By Albert W. Aiken.

13]. Sister against Sister; or. The Rivalry of
Hearts. By Mrs. Mary Reed Cl-owell.

132 Sold for Gold; or, Almost Lost. By Mrs.
M. V. Victor.

133 Lord Roth’s Sin ;_ or. Betrothed at the
Cradle. By Mrs. Georgiana Dickens. .

134 th He Love Her .0 By Bartley T. Campv
be ’ ' ‘

l 3 5

136

Sinned .\ grain”; or, Almost in His Power. I
By Lillian Lovejoy. . v .\
“'as She His “112: 2 ‘By Mrs. Mary Reed
0

rowell.
By Miw
ackemy.
or,
By Margaret Blount.
139 morgaret Grahaln. By G..P. B. James;
140 \‘Vithout DIercy. By Hartley T.Campbell.
141 Honor Bound; or, Sealed to Secrecy. By
Lillian Lovegoy. ‘ " I /
142 Fleeing from Love. By - Mrs; Harriet
Irving. .

The Broken Troll).

143 Abducted;
By Rett Winwood.

144 A Strange Marriage; ‘ or, (John Foster's
Heiress. ‘By Lillian Lovejoy. _ ~

.145 Euro Girl’s Lives. By Mrs.»Ma.ry Reed
- CrovVell. ‘ « ' ' '

116 A neoperate Venture
‘Own Sake. By Arabella. Sou hwlo ,

147 The Wul‘ of Hearts. By Wane Cush-
man. i 7 

, Misjudged. Brazil!!!
149 An Ambitiou’lﬁirl
An Actress.) By Frances elen Davenport. _
150 Love Lord of All; or, In Her Own at
Last. By Alice May‘Fleming. ‘ ' ‘ / ‘
181 A
- , 00

Wild Girl;
152 A ,Man’o
Himself. B

148 Which wmn. Woman t new... 1
. Gluten.   ge y

rinno C on.
‘ riﬂes;
rl'iet Ming

i - _ ' ' 1w ' ‘
153 d Shem .2 0!} A gals Desperate r
I m°’3’*a§"¥ii%§wy "
15 no Loves - e o; 01‘. ~* ~ aloe—r »

Lovejoy. I ,

"w " ,W": 01331». therton‘
‘55 M'Bny’ﬂémaret mint _ .3
156

By Ara Southwortll. -

» 1'51 ATGlrl’s Heart. By Relit‘Wlnf‘lVomi.

158 A. Bitter Mistake one; Yam cert
Folly. By Agnes Mary Shelton, ' r ‘

  Helen’s vow or  ‘xothergs 
5°"  mfnuat. _. .

et. By the Late'Mrs.

160 Buying a Heart; or, A Fair Martyr. a... .-

n vejoy.

1 61 Pair] ol‘l’éurls 3 or, Cloudsand Sunbeams. 
' By A;~P.Morrls,.:rr.  ' ,  y y 

l 62 BA Fate-ml Game; or, Wedded and Ported. . 
n. I s . , , . i

y Sol-a. Cloxto ; y
163 The ﬁreole V Cousins; or. False as Fair.
By Philip S. Wame. I ' ‘

16‘4 ﬁagcaﬂi’lng- Mm]; OHM” Langley‘s 

Marriage. By Mrs. Georgians Dickens.

165 A sm 0
Story. Bﬁlbel'ﬁ‘. .
loo A Minnow. By Rettwmwooo.
Hand of Fate. or The Wreck of
16?, “Rheum. By Ambdla‘sgutﬂworth.

‘168 Two Fair “’omou. By Wm. M. Turner. 1

,A mu isme mlery week.

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v _ BEADth AND ADAMS; Publisher-w, r

‘ 98 William street. New York? '

l‘ ‘ 'v.‘ f ‘  " ’

A. i» ..

 
'or, A Wicked woman‘s Work. ' 
(3",: or Love‘s:
or, ShéWould Be 5

or, Love‘s Gloulour. By] ‘
orig:th with .‘

 
a

 
magnetron mm; or, Crooked not. * '

‘mrl. A New land Lox-p.“ '
W. Aiken.  I