. I... m ,\.I HI ., . pl. §\ a; 1,, l y I. an at. The Cheapest and, Best Library"! The Green: of American and Foreign Novels for Five Cents! ‘ 'it"WallillIill‘ll 3' ° ml final: ‘. «l ix ~ ‘lv................. . r _A ‘ 82-50 a. year. Entered at the Post Office at New York. N. Y., at Second Class Mail Rates. Copyrighted in 1883b) Bygone AND ADAMS.“ ~V 13, "1883. 1 N0170. VOL. Vll. PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, 98 WILLIAM ST., N. Y. PRICE. 5 CENTS \Blind Barbara’s Secret; ’ THE HISTORY or A HEART. BY MARY GRACE HALPINE, AUTHOR OF “ THE MISSING BRIDEGROOM,” “ THE HUSBAND or TWO WIVES,” “wno “PAS r GUILTY?" “ ELSIE’S PRISONER,” “ WHOSE WIFE WAS SHE?” are, me, ETC CHAPTER I. THE BLIND WOMAN. IRYA SUTTON made a sweet picture as she stood afieng through the open window, the roses u at Clambered over it outvied by the rich bloom pen Cheek and lip. he woman sitting inside, attracted by th. IRVA OBEYED, DRAWING A SMALL ROUND TABLE TO THE WINDOW, U rustling foliage, turned her sightless eyes up to the easement. Irva stood motionless; her eyes sparkling and her mouth dimpling at the thought; of the hip py surprise she was going to give. Just then the canary in the cage that swung from the rustic porch, suddenly spying her, trilled forth a note of Welcome that made the air vocal with melody. Catching the inspiration, Irva threw back her head, sending back a glad refrain that. the lit- tle fellow vainly swelled its little throat to ri— val. Uttering an exclamation of joy, the woman within arose. and turned toward the door, just as the young girl entered, who gave her an af- fectionate embrace. ’ d “ Igear child! I was not looking to see you to my Irva turned a look of surprise upon the speak- er. “ Why shouldn’t I come today as well as any other 5” ' lth l .‘l WHICH LAY T “One of the neighbors was telling me that Mrs. Sutton’s nephew had come, a fine, stylish- looking gentleman.” “He might be twice as fine and stylish-look- ing. and he would not keep me from coming to see my dear old nurse.” The woman smiled and then looked thoughtr .ul. “ W’hat is this man’s name?” ” Sully.” “ l didn’t know that she had a nephew by, that , name." “ Nor 1, until the day before he came. Mam-— me never tells me anything.” 1" Did she never tell you anything about your« so f?” “ About myself? No. to tell?” “ How old are you?" “Sixteen, and past," responded Irva, with a pretty little assumption of girlish dignity, quite thrown away, howvver. upon the Old blind WG-- man, who swaying herself backward and for What would she have HE SACRED VOLUME. wk of .ntnatnre. , y .. ; . “ She broken her promise!” she muttered; u “ why should I keep minel’? ‘ " Irva surve ed her with a look of surprise. , , strand into the wrinkled fingers that were clasp- wed over the knee. ’ , , “What is the matter, Barby? You look and 3"”talk so strangely l” - Barby laid her hand upon the head of the - , Vspcaker, smoothing softly the rippling hair from ",i‘~the forehead. \ ‘ .“My pretty nurslingl I never thought you " “were so old. It seems such a little time since I v n ,. fiheleu in my terms} It is fourteen years since 31' ed upon your’face. Iiwonder ifitisas -,J‘ "flairnnd sweet and Winsome as it was then!” " Irva pressed her lips to the hand that Barby paSsed slowly over her features, as if to gain 7 ' some palpable answer to her questions. . .“. Dear nurse! you were always so, good to me!” I , » ,. “I meant to be; but I was deceived. I have ' 7been»deceived twice. She said she would tell a «on. ' . . \ 3 ‘y Irva began to think that the old woman’s wits .. were wandering. '- .' "‘ Tell me what, Barby?” , . I “It is a secret; but it shall be one no longer, -‘ ,’ if she refuses to keep her promise. Take this key, and go to the under drawer of my bureau. ' the right hand corner you will find a small i ebony box. Bring it to me. ” , ‘ ' ,Wondering not a little at. Barby’s strange ‘ words and manner Irva obeyed. C» ‘ ‘ Takin a smaller ke from her bosom, Barb ' "' uhlock‘eg it, us' her ands as swift] and def " “ ly as though in ull possession of all or senses. a , At the bottom of the box wasa small gold ‘ oek‘et. ' ._ (poking i: 9p, Barby handed it to Irva. “. eni . , a ' V » Irva touched the spring, uttering a cry of ad- ’= ' mirationasshe saw the level face that looked > out upon-her; in whose sm' iug eyes and lips 7'there was something sti ngely familiar. 5 7 “Did you ever see that face before?” \ “No. And yet—-—” . u kite, paused, unable to put into words the Which filled her heart as she looked at 51 (a > \ . Elihu, see something like it when-you look i mirror?” . '~ . . r _' ‘ blushed and smiled._ That rap g '" waslike her own, vain as it : . pow. , » I for amoment in si-’ 'It isn’t the‘least 0 two V'cliild’c‘” .2 u. i u~justnow.” f' f. tted an impatient flash, .- . .whleh ‘Wq‘tfitfitqnite another expression. I tellinel, Youmust I” i may, ' upon the pale face, whose . , ,3 es u ward,asifimplor. " ' j 13.801316 mvisib source, the eyes '- s . Withede movement shelaidher smooth . cheekgpttly Wrinkled one of her J wmrnursel ou“sii.rel have not told me '-thi's,to'leaveme ', theder nowi’! _. . a a stretched out her arm with an energy, and determination entirelyat variance with or ; niet cid manner. item > stresses “ we; 1' smoothest“ she f If he . .r f, ‘ their or usiboth. s. .. ‘ statesmen Perhaps nhe‘hae forgotten; I , give her time to remember. Be patient, in jchild-i it will be only a few days. stat signage-it. I ch evidentlynoti, on.’ . :, mWen I visited you, some eight or ten years * " withtem. . mother! Who was ( mattitugtfimhwl T ’ ' 4“ Did I now herl—emy sweet; little ' She lay, an infant, upon my bosom; she died in , my anus! . 5 you now are; but she died broken hearted—glad Taking a ow seat at her feet, she slipped her ‘ She was only tWO years older than to hide her sorrows in the gravel” The tones in which these words" were spoken Were broken, almost inarticulate. “ My father—who was he?” 7 , The bowed head was suddenly raised while a hard, almost bitter look came into the ace. “ You must ask Mrs. Sutton that. Say that I bid you ask it. Ba to her, also, that I, Bar- bara Worth, charge or to redeem the promise she made me the da you were born. That though I am blind an helpless, God lives !” Awed by the solemnity of these words, Irva was silent, and in a few moments Barby resum- ed in quite another tone: ' ‘ Now bring hither the Good Book, darling, and read to me.” Irva obeyed, drawing a small round table to the window on which lay the sacred volume which was such an inexhaustible source 0 strength and comfort to Barby. And in listening to the beautiful words of “the sweet singer of Israel,” the look of pain and sorrow vanished from the pale face, giving lace to an expression of peace and serenity that sunk deep into Irva’ cart as she closed the volume. v Raising her sightless eyes upward, Barby murmured: , “ The ungodly shall fall into the pit that they dig for the innocent.” ‘ CHAPTER II. A STARTLING QUESTION. IN an up r room of a house, about twenty miles from ew York, a woman sat. How old, how fair to look 11 on, her face had once been, were not an easy t in to say now. But she was younger than she loo ed, and had once been noted for a wild, weird beauty, no trace of which could be seen now save in the eyes, which gleamed with a strange, unnatural brilliancy. Pride, envy, hate, all the fierce passions that make the human heart a hell, had scarred and lined the face scattering untimely frost amo‘nf fine disordered looks that fell around the sho - ers. r - ’ She was not alone. ‘ Her companion was a man some years youn- er, whose face would have been handsome but or the impress of dissipation and excess stamp- ‘ ed so legib y upon every feat . The man wasthe first to speak: I ._ i “ I have seen a great many beautiful women, cousin; but never did I see one so fair and sweet giggle daughter of yours—if she is your daugh- The woman met unflinchineg the sharp eyes turned so suddenly upon her. “ What makes you'think Irva is not my 'r “ I have various reasons. our husband died all of twenty years ago, and $113 girl does not look more than sixteen. ’ ‘ A faint smile touched the thin, compressed , .. to I But you sai you had morer‘easons than one; age, I neither saw nor heard anything 0 this den him” . . . 1 ‘f , at is easily accounted for. Irva was brought upout of m V house, by anurse to whom ,siifeis stroneg attac ed, and who is a good deal fender of her 1 I am.” “ That might be,” said the other, significant- “and the Woman not over fond of her, 1y, e that.” ‘ “Which is another ar ment for the estab- sup I am not a lishm ' t otyour theory, were van to sentiment, an so make no pre- tense of ' g fond of the girl. In my opinion gigs are expensive and tron lesome thin , and ' a is no exoe thin to the neral e. To. tellthetruth, Is, begladw ensheisofl'my hands. It strikes me that you take a great deal as interest in her?" 1 . . “Here the looked keenly into the eyes think I never looked upon a face ' more ra'miyteautir " , '“ Ear behu or whether she is my child or is nothinéyto you. Let us p to - i" uses. You have began over the place; what do humanism!” .4 737 , : s ,' .2“ .morningthat I would very ' _ sin’s rivil One of these is that ‘3 dissmfin motions; e h . . slash ' adisturbed look upon. Hm‘Loo are very deceptive; people often .. ounger and older than they are. _ n . g“! L ' u ‘ ' _ duct 01: your oldand , . , - . '“Oldi'Barby mag hi liar , and .nmore’ fleeim‘ 1 than); . _ 3% ,8, , “P x p strikes me “‘ kitm‘th. i, _ _ all forlt,” lemmas-Wit... 3...... ‘ * ,- o anear " 3 e. ‘ ' well know.” r , y‘ ' ’1 ‘ '1‘), as you? “ y do youxsell it at such a sacrifice?” :- ‘ “ For two reasons. .Il‘i‘rst, because I want to raise some money; second, because Iliave do? cidedto leave this part of the country—though .r this is something that I don’t want mentioned to any one, Just now. You can have the place, Just as it standsnfor what i I told yen, or else a i liberal commissmn for selling it for me. .For , reasons of .my. own, there must be no advertise- 7 mgnt of it in my name.” " ' ' ‘ ,“te Eei’ivlooked curiously at the speaker. “ That is my business.” , Stephen was silent for some moments. When ‘ he did speak, his low, soft voice contrasted; strongly with the curt, sharp" tones of his com— mon. ‘_‘ Of course. Still, one cannot help wondering a little at your making so sudden and complete . achange.’ ‘ ,3 “People can wonder as much, as they like; "3 my reasons are perfectly satisfacto to me, _' and colplcern a; (1111‘s ellse. Not: wha do on f say, w' on e e aceat 3 ti on; the condi ‘ons namedl'? p m”, ' ‘ “Yes. I don’t want it myself, but I think I can find a purchaser. Will pay you half down, ‘ and the remainder on its disposal. Will that‘be' satisfactor l” ‘ . ,5 “ Entire y so.” , ' “ I presume Miss Irva, your daughter "—there :3 was a slight em basis on the word italicised, if deeply perceptib e to Mrs. Sutton-‘-—“ goes with ‘- you “That is as it may be. My means are too 9‘ sm-mtened for me to be able to support herin idleness a greatwhile lenger. I have given her a ood education, and intend that she shall earn ;' or own livm . But here sheis. Not a word-'5 of this before or “mind!” ‘ The opemng door revealed the term of a " voung girl, not more than Seventeen, whose ; bloom and beaut fully justified Stephen’s en? Q thuSiastic descripl 'on. ' As her eyes is upon the man, Who had risen ' ' from his seat at her appearance, Irya paused? hesitatmgly upon the threshold. , - ‘, “Come in, child. What are you waiting \ for?” ' As Irvab ed these sharpl ken word ‘ tSeultliy £66m {Eireka Wit t e evident n on o . ' r 11 without seemin, to notice this, she hign'ied ,, him. 8 f But it’did not escape. . Sutton’s notice. “ Don’t on se'eyour cousin Irva?” v r i; _ Irva lai her hand with evident reluctance in '2 the one extended toward her. ‘ , The man gazed admirin 1y into the artly>‘ 31 averted face, whose color eepened as _ e felt‘ rather than saw that earnest . , _ ., “- Sweet cousin, you are 100336 so lovely this ’ y takea coup; 9‘ '« ' .l/ . ‘ ' I 5 “ o?” hggadded, as, drawing, W ’i""1llihack,t 1W3; made en - 3 _' after Sidly," and a stood a upon the hand-on ' '- oor lookin down'étlioug this?“ sites 6303' ' usl ‘ ' ' 'ercurio . , Manama. ’: gratis what puzzles me. f‘don’t.kn6w w . I . ‘ . v _ p , . A. JOE course you, don’t; How should you. when therei‘sno reasonat am I amyladtoisea that Stephean taking a deep interest in you. The thus is nothing when you will need just] such afrlend as he isdisposed to hate you; and: I want to see no more such silly, caprien‘ms confé ’ “ Where have on been allthe morning!” ' A “At nurse Bani) ’s, reading to her." I - “ Out of the Bi 9, I suppose?” j ' ' 7 i” Irya turned her eyes upon the face, to‘ whosef amber, sneezing expression no words can do “Yea There is no other book. that nurse, if” ll blahfi'tt’t enemas or o o ,' > e blind andhel ” “ Irva was silent. sudden that “decelerati— gtaetsgooedeemgg‘ , '_ :7 .-l‘ \ r. I liketto hear beauti-‘ . "Andthen-I think she loves me.” .' ~ ( Don‘t I leveryoul” « w ‘ Irva fixed her. eyes, with a soft, penetrating ogkfiupon the speaker’s face. ‘ - o " “ A mother ought-ghsurely, to love her child." if Are you my-r‘mo er i’” i «if this was a strange question, its efiect‘ was Still more startling. Stringing to her feet Mrs. Sutton seized the l. by both shoulders. ' she cried, hoarsely, “ what do on , r , hing rva gainst the wall, and holding her t ere. ‘ As the frightened girl looked into those glar- . 8 es, she uttered a shriek of terror. 1! ywas going est the o nwiridow. Leap- hlg‘ through into, t e room, e took the excited Woman by the arm. , ‘ ,“ Good heavens! Lucia, what does this mean? ya you gone mad?” . .Aigparently overcome by the violence of her - :95 gs, Mrs. Sutton sunk into the nearest seat. ‘It means that I have been betra ed,” was sullen response. “Leave me, bot of you, 'want to be alone.” CHAPTER III. . ‘ BLIND nmm’s warren. ~ - DURING the remainder of the day, Mrs. Sut~ . remained in her own alternately restlessly up and down it, 'or sitting Otioniss in the wide- easy-chair beside the her face buried in her hands. a’s question had evidently roused a tem- st in her soul that was not easily subdued. About dusk she rung for a strong cup of cof- ‘;‘a favorite beverage with her, especially in or encies like this. , ' .‘ nd Miss Irva here,” she said to the ser- “mt who removed the tray. lingered by the door, glancing furtivel “a, Mrs..Sutton as if in doubt as to whether t ‘ to apps-03c, h very near; gut 3 , os neexressionuner 0°Pllteyiiance reassugrgd her. p p0 - iCome hither, Irva. Nay, you have no rea- to fear me, child.” . , took the seat to which she was pointed,\ *V . f.was where the light from the silver lam , ‘77 swung from the ceiling, fell full upon is e , fiweet, ingenuous face. ‘ l ’ . utton sin-vexed it keenly for some agility 7 as though ewould read her inmost- ‘ as; has told yore-what?” Clearly and fearlessly the young voice rung .3 i, She told that you were not my mother.” 4. faint gleam, brokeintosthe eyes that Were ‘ militant}; upon the speak. er. ' What else _ V _ ‘ - . _ “She bid me ask you who my father was?” was a pause, during whichMrs. Sut- struggled visibly with allthe memories that this nestion evoked. But there was no trace of; _ in~ hesmoot even voice. . ' .» ‘What elee’!’ . lBhe charged you to remember your promise tape» the day {was born.” " « she on what this was?” V‘fNoishesai that it would be better for you agelle if you wghuld. u‘li‘gat tifkyovuhdid ,not . euro 0 ac ers. tailing iii her chair, Stilton drew ‘rs were not esbad as she thought. Whin‘ of importance had been reveals as t .she acted promgtly and decisivel , ethreatened danger to' or plans might ‘ Poor'Barbyis right; ,I should have told on 3'. Ore,” she said, with a half-sigh. “Bu it é Wasanot a pleasant thin to talk about, so I have heplidefez'ririg it. *Tell, er thatI shall keep my - m, V You shall know the secret of our 3 Whether it'will make you any happ er'is ' ing. Gonow. I am unable‘to bear «further excitement; but in a dayor two, at an... W '55 longest, you shall know all.” . owes a ' mJointed look in Irva’s eyes e‘moved tow _ the deer; but it chanfifig as theymstedu nthe tweet gmchhehad it be! " , 8 3 overseen ' ore. , ‘ ‘ ,y._&§0fi' sttxxwiczlrhega Pausing,with .seturn j r; look ng more worn and ~ to remember» : ge‘s‘ That will do. ‘ Gel” . ‘ “ God 1" she repeated in a scofling tone, as she was left alone. “ If I believed that there was ,any such being I should not dare to take the course that I must take if——~ , “ But I will not act hastily. I will see the old fool, and if she will listen toreason—if she won’t, w v— tterin these disjointed sentences Mrs, Sut- ton move rest essly up and down the room, 0c» casionaily pausing by the window and looking gut into the night, w ose shades were deepening ast. . After Waiting until it was quite dark she put on a large mantle and close bonnet and stole out of the house by the back wa . , Going down to the road s e crossed it, strik- in into a narrow ath which ran across an open 5 fie d' and from t ence into some woods, on the further edge of which stood Barby’s cot- a e. * 3 she approached it the moonemerged from , behind the clouds, not only bringing it distinct ly into view, but revealing clearly the leaves and tendrils that clambered over it, glistening with dew and quivering in the breeze. There was no light within—night and day |, r Barby—but by the open win— were alike to dow Mrs. Sn ton coul see the "outlines of a figure sWaying slowly backward and forward. As cautious as was her approach the blind wo- man, whose hearing was rendered acute by her misfortune, detected it. Rising from her seat, she stood in'an attitude of listening by the door. “Barby, it is I, Lucia Sutton. door.” , , There was a moment’s hen‘tation, and then the bolt was slipped back. Pushiuglo n the door, Mrs. Sutton seated her self with t 1e ceremony in thechair that Barby had ust v ted. “ you quite alone, Barby?” “ I am never alone.” « Mrs. Sutton cast a startled glanbe around. “ Who is with ’ ‘ Open the ou?’ The words of the Holy Book, which was Bar-' by’slstudy by night and day, were ever upon nor 1 S. ' ‘- “ e who has promised to 'be with me ever‘ even to the end, the Defender of the widow an the fatherless.” r ‘ r's. Sutton had a to gain, so she checked the/scofling rep y) t at arose to her lips. Barby was the first to reak the silence. “It is a long time since I have had the honor of receiv‘ 7 madam under my r roof.” , Mrs. 811 n’s voice was so so and gentlethat it hardly seemed like hers. ' , “ I havenot meant to neglect - you, Barby. I have been very busy, and then-—-’ » “ You knew me to be blind and helpless—and therefore safe. But I have not lost my memOry as you will find. Irva gave you my message, sup ose, It is this that has brought you hither In t e nights—which is no night to me. Nor yet Bun, whose eye is on you, and from whom, strive as you may, on cannot escape!” “There 18 no 11 for you to assume this tone to me, Barb ; as though 'I had ever wronged you, or was ntending to do so. Yes, I got our maesage; and was very glad that on. ady the prudence and good sense to leave t e matter to me. ' r I “ I have left the matter to you, only in this way that if you will not tell Irva, what she shou d have known long ere this, I must! I will keep the promise I made you when I committed ‘ Irva to, your guardianship, but you must-keep ours. ,- ‘ r y “And so I will. That is, if you insist upon it. But—I thou ht that you loved Irva?” “Love her? trange as it ma seem, her mother was not 30 near to my hea as'shel” “If you love her, as you so. , how is it that you Wish her to know what‘w‘ only brin her shame and sorrow—a. shame and sorrow w ion, as m child, she would never know.” .“ our child? Lucia Sutton! yl‘eu have never given her a child’s Place in your art or home, nor have I been ab eto. discover any indications that you had the slighmst affection for her! You have-secluded her trom'all society, keeping her in this out-of-tbaway lace, with no companion- ship but yourself an Mrs. Sutton was , ’ I _ Wm ‘..r, 5’ (it I , theoreatures that suns ‘ filog’nd you. It is‘my beli’etthat you mean her smeared] , is» ' though she Weeklies smashes w... ' justr ‘ - ~ ‘ V 7 , I ., mean 11 , )‘ Mugs. Sutton raised her- hand with an impatient .i child—neglected and forgot u, think “ You $31k wildly, Barby. iii; s. er - .. " ' ' ’ . 1 , ' “ How can Item Who can follow the Mud in of the scheming brain that was never yeti id e? But this 'I know, in one thing, at 133%,: r you have deceived me.” ~1 “ Deceived you, Barby?” ' . “ Lied to me, then l—if the terme suit you bet- ter. Irva’s father is not dead I” ' , Those sightiess eyes could not see the blanched face, to W 'ch the moonbeams that fell over it gave an additional pallor; but the quick «M' quickened by her infirmity—~caught the tremui‘ ,. " lous breath which came through the parteddipe, ' whose convulsive workings she could not see . v and well knew the fierce tempest of dismayand Zr, guilty fears that her words had called tenth... — “ Who—how do you know this?” . ’ '_ n “ No matter how; I do know it. And how so I know but what you have deceived me in w matters? How do I know that anythin , you, :; told me was true? Alice, poor baby l'—-—_ or’she} '~‘ ' was little else—was like wax in your hands, nudi- " 1 did not know you as I do now. I think that the whole thing was planned, am hood, from beginnin ' to end!” ' ~ ' ‘ No words can do justice to the ressi- , on ace of "the V ‘ the eyes that were turned upon the speaker. I r , “ Are you mad, Barby, to- bring against me such a charge as this?” ' ‘ ‘ '- ‘ “No; but I think’I have been, to much upon trust, as I did. \ To believe so much; With no evidence but your-word, and the teat. mony of a woman who might been this but what she professed to be. i Outward> I ' has brought me internal light; and as I‘have eat here alone—with the exce tion of thiséffiu’r'i; past, many things seem clear tome. ' ruin a great wrong and mystery somewhere. . evil is threatening my pretty nursling; though? what it is, or from what quarter, I cannatsa'yf % Mrs. Sutton had now recovered her usual. / coolness and self-possession, which were ' 7e \' in the easily disturbed. - w There was no trace of the anger; that brooded in the eyes, as 51%? said: 1 tan 1 v “ ouare e g our ma ' etion.- oath. with you, Barby. Ii it wereg-ifos for fortunes. whichnaturally‘make ' m mistrustful, I should be seriouslyangryi‘; . father is dead to her; and it I supposehimto bese,in reality, *‘ I believed itbetterior you and an ‘ “ Wh should You seek'to wit the knowledge, that she not: right to the name she has, but-no'rl ' “I’m not so sure oil-that. r There % here that only the truth will clear ' that she a woman, Irva must know“ of her birth; not only the name at hark but who her mother was.” " i » T1321? you gigs ithmlglwm $31035” ' you a e ‘- ' ' ' 'ackn erons will let him stoo ' .“It matters not. e may'disown: " _, will. But he shall know that she, who: have“ been his wife-eif-she was~not+~wlio¥efiv ed herself to be such until within am oi death, was the. mother of his child, and child is livin . . It only remains to w é“? the‘r l,ouwi (gage-$1.2 ~ ‘? * ’ course, ary 'youn cum“ --7 ingthis, it shall be hone I aclmiow- . ‘ , rights in the case, thou h you seem" high have forgotten them. » thought, and stili‘think: it much more‘kind and .wise that she shOuid he kept in ignorance of the secret of her ' {rout tIhinli otlimise, andliltliiat is’encu‘gh.’ aasm ouw‘eeoromise,-"” andlet me tell hert is.” . Pry it i “ As I said before I will» keep my you will keep yours.” I u I Will keel; it.“ Of coups yon . reply?” rva’s fatherfihave you nicated with A faint smile came to Mrs. Sutton’s up 58%: ‘ sawthedisconcerted look in the faceofhei‘oéfi panion, who remained silent. ~‘ " 7 “ course. with the feelings you statement. I @1313}??? no possibleobjectiun toyour Y. 4 ’ 1 . " so, , . - “ I did write, or cause to have widen, a “ let to him about a month ago. I felt‘that fine mtenests of Irva. demanded it. I Have'had‘ “l’l as Yet." ~ . » ~ I 7- es.» mi?“ yfiimmél ' ammo for Mrs. sea.“ a that-“Maid the exnltant flash, that . .If y knew him as w’ Ian I Weaver, set yOur. mind entirely at rest 1 p t; before another week,‘1rva shall. w, you would have her (know. ‘ '- , CHAPTER IV. _. r MRS. svrron‘s MIDNIGHT STUDIES. “Mus. Burro»: was an eager Searcher into the f ten'es ofnaturet. he" had studied the science of«medicine in Sheryoun 1' days, though,simply from curiosity i‘w'ith no esign of putting it to any pl‘actica , small laboratory opened out of her room, up with every Convenience, where she often spent hours, experimenting. On one side were various herbs, drugs and , the other was lined with medical asks, some of a very abstruse nature, and : Illicit bore the appearance of being the product "eat another age an couptry. . Amongbthese were some left her by an old A‘ j » p ysician, to whom she had done some ‘ ,They were written in his own language, ' ancient - . , stock one of these down, pormg over it for nearly an hour. Eben lighting a spirit lamp under a retort, she n to take from the contents of various ‘ , stars, jars and vials, scrupulously weighing ins. pair of tingeles and every now and p consulting the k which lay open before some time her efforts were unsuccessful; m «times she poured out the contents of the , r , 1e and commenced anew. But her eflorts relax, or her patience fail; with gleam- , and‘compressed liplfahe toiled on, with success, adding 1; ' and abstracting 1 l and gassingi‘only to wipe the perspiration "her 3?“ th ho: 'h t- 2. , ,wnwass mg roug as u H 'wwhtrs. Sutton a sin removad the cm- handheld it to the lig t a gleam of triumph exits as she looked at ts contents. , HI nothing buts. very fine powder. “ very whiteness, which diffused a faint, sick- aflashebentoverit. . ' seemedto hawe some eflect upon her, for ' gwindow she opened it, standing by minutes. , ‘ fin Mrs. Sutton. left the window she satu- ‘ milk; handkerchief in stron alcohol, , M ghtly over. her mouth an nostrils. l removed the powder from the cru- hd‘o small metallic flask, whose stopple I v m was to make‘it air-tight. in a drawer in her desk, she kept constantly about her, sus- iasmall chainsround her neck. to the book she had studied trentively; runningher forefin r slowly -mmlme to line,through a. escription mptoms, tobe expected from oer. , when one, and which seemed to adorn her " , ’ r-sat-isfactiom " , ‘ - ‘ , . X,’ ”. she mutteredwreading from W“ #followed by common or mans, Willi/notbe necessary,” she added as re- grets hook to its as she left the labora- ,, ifth all else, that it claims, it will I will not incur more risks V,M.rs. Sutton threw herself, partial- Upcn acouch: falling into a deep, ‘ , or lose ,what had become the ruling ' ring of her life, she s run to her feet, , er head repeats ynin a basin of " -.Water. i 1 ‘ _ e ‘efiect *of this could be readilyaseen, es- ly in the-heavy, bloodshot eyes,;which be~ regain their usually keen, alert expres- 'thenrnn the ten ordering breakfast;— stgong coileé-to be served in her .m’ y ‘ ~ . the .discussmg ,these,_her mind was various plans, which, oneafter rejected, as being impracticable 5' new sous. - , , her. perplexity,’ to the wind ' n g the Emmotsi ‘ y‘aad‘asmall wit..névseesmwf ‘ lags " ‘ Labelinever , ave dreamed of» such a. - ~ ~ ' nosuchBein :thislifeisalhand- willmak ctrshe. ‘ 1. ‘8 z , . ,1 med ate-the sound oi that-W , one voice- i _ . ~ , “ I, want on to go to town, andsee if you Emmet,7 match this. Stephen will: drive you own. v ' up to her to the basket on her arm. birthday, and I was going to take tea wit Barby. She always, expects it, you know.” Mrs. Sutton neither knew nor cared, but she had an obgect in getting rid of Irva just then. “ N o; E sie cannot go on with m dress with- out it, and I can trust no one ‘e se to st the exact shade, which is not easy to find. cu can take tea with Barby some, other day. What have you in your basket?” “ A cake that the cook baked for me and a bottle of current wine.” “ That is well,” responded Mrs. Sutton, with the bland smile that so seldom visited her face; “I am glad to find you so thoughtful of the comfort of your ood, kind nurse. I will take charge of it; sen in word to Barby that you will take tea with er tomorrow, which will suit her just as well.” There was nothing more to be said, as Irva very well knew. As gracious as was Mrs. Sut- ton s manner her temper was too high and uncertain for er to venture upon an remon- ttrance as that lady coolly relieved er of her basket putting it on her own dressing-table. Step en was no ways loth to any proposition that gave him the society of the young girl, whose beauty had inflamed his jaded fancy— heart he had none—and who was so shy of him that he found it difficult to approach her. So in a very Shert space of time, lrva found herself riding along the smooth highway in the low, easy phaeton, sitting beside t a man for whom she had conceived aninstinctive repugnance the first time she saw him. She had resented the familiarity of his manner and the privileges he seemed. disposed to take on the ground of their assumed cousiuship; but Stephen had taken an- other tack now. The quiet deference of his manner put her more at ease; and as she stole a look, at him from beneath the long lashes her heart softened, and she be to study the few which, bein y turn from her, she could do without ing, as she supposed, observed. Stephen let her watch him in silence for some moments, and then said: is not what makes her look so sober?” I did not want to come.” Stephen hit his lip; he was not accustomed to have those of her sex that he tried to please so indifferent, if not averse to his socie . “That is not much of a complimen to me.” “I did not inteudi s such.” Then notic the oyed look on her com- panion‘s face 8 6 added: .“ Nor did. from anE discourtes . It is sim- plyn—t e”truth. Poor arby will so disap High“)? Sh isbl .1. Th is ‘ nurse, . e in is m birthday. Ialwa take tea with her on day andshe will expecting me.” , ' "Youare very fond of your nurse?” , “And so I ought to be; she is the very best friend I have.” i “ Wgath the exception of Mrs. Sutton, of so “I except no one.” . “ Is not site your friend?” « “ I have not said she was not.” and reserve, simplicity an good sense, in Irva that puzzled him, deepening the interest that her beauty had awakened in him. Butlto return to Mrs. Sutton. ‘ Standing upon the lawn until she saw the car- riage disappear in the distance, she returned to her own room. Raising the cover of the basket on her dress- in -table, she examined its contents. . . , lipon a’ snowy napkin lay the dainty birthday- cake, frosted and ornamented by . rva’s own oranges, nuts and confectionery. A gleam of triumph shot from her eyes. “Could anything happen more fortunate] ?” she muttered. “ there‘ was. a God, woul be the very c was’seekm i There is e the most of‘i l” ...._—a.._ Irva‘glanced from the bit of shining silk held ; i "‘ VVon’t to-morrOW do as well?" This is mg i “ I hope Miss Irva’s ride with me this morn- . Stephen was silent. There was a~min ling of ‘ rankness hands, together with a bottle of wine, some , let the I, la into m haudsthus 'vin me“ gi-r P guityly . ’31 g \l ‘ l v 1 i l l l thatwas g _ omen, fit .1, then. She hanged each z e l " bank-bills which she had taken from her pocket “ were the - sun UNDEWRDWG Sutton’s room”, hour“ run shoals: continuance _. W’E return to Mrs. later. : , ~ ~ , On a’table is-the covared‘ basket, and besidejt «: Mrs. Sutton. . -, . ’ , . _ ‘ On the other side near the door is a tall, spare 1:" woman, with high cheek-bones, thin, compressed lips, and a hard, cold expression in the palerbluoifi 2 ea, ’. . » . Mrs. Sutton was engaged in counting sorr i book, apparently paying no heed. to the eager,‘ expectant eyes that were watching her. [ _ ‘ ‘As I was saying, Elsie,” pursued Mrs. Sut- ' ’ ton, carefully smoothing the last bill upon tuc ,' Q {)116 at her .right, hand “ you have served me ‘1 ong and faithfully, an it has been on my mind f for some time to owe you some token of myap-v reciation of it. ind here seems to be no more, ' ‘tting time than the present. “Not just yet,” she added, as the woman tooli' 19: a step forward ;‘ “ I want you to do a little some thing for me first, then you shall have it.” ' ‘ 4' hThe woman’s face Chan dkpergfiptiblyi‘ and s ecastas a1 ,inqum' ‘n 00 at espea er. “ Well i” g u ‘ _ ’ “You know Barbara Worth l”, , . . r . “ The blind woman at the edge of the forest?” “Yes. I have carried thingsto her from Miss; 1, Irva.” ' , , I “ That is well. I want you to carry her some— '; thing from Miss Irva now. his.” Elsie looked at the uncovered basket. “Is that all?” , , , i “ N o. I want you to 58. to her that Mite Irva ' sends it, with her love. t she had to go to 7’ town today, and will take tea. with her to Is; / marrow.” H ?” I ’ _ “'I want you to say that Miss Irva sent a spe. c1a1 r uest that she would drink her health out ' of the ttle of wine, and not to leave until you . have made sure of her doing so. ” “ . 1 For a moment the two eyed each other in si- ,' f; ence. ‘ I ‘ ‘ ' “ ’ Then Elsie spoke, glancin at the bottle whose ; clear, ruby contents flashe brightly in t e sun. ‘ ;' light. , “Whatis it?” ‘ 7 “Don’t you see what it is‘l—wine.” _ , 4 , , ,_ “What will it do?” ‘ ., . a ’1 Mrs. Sutton wassilent; evidently debati? in 5 her own mind how far she could safely {ah the questioner in her confidence. , , The woman’ lips closed \ v ‘ is “Don’t tell me if you don’t want But. on r g: won’t get me to slip my neck into a noose b‘ d.» folded, on may be certain of that!” I j “ Hus l Elsie; don’t s ak so loud I” Opening the door, . Sutton looked cane tiously into the entry, and then softly closing resumed her seat. ' ‘ . _' , “I will be frank with you, Elsie; you have been so ithful and discreet in other matters that I bell vs I can trust an. Barbara Worth —Barby, as we call her-— 8 something that I want her to forget... This”—~here she touched“ t2: bottle with her finger—“ will make for.» it. . ‘ v ' “ ” .' g as: Israel“ a: r We 3...... a ‘ e 0 cm. V e grave, su . ‘fNothinrggf the sort. DO you th would risk so muc myself, or let on risk it?’ It will affect the mind only, and t at onl .. in a certain direction. There is no dun er w atever. ' Do what .I have told you, with »t e skilland admits pass that you can exercise, if yen will, and you. shall havethis.” ' ,, Elsie looked at the pile of bills on which the. speaker’s hand rested. r ' , ’ V j “How much?” ‘ " " Mrs. Sutton held up a ten-dollar bill; “Ten of these.” - ‘-” » V, Elsie’s eyes sparkled. Averice} wasthe passmn of her nature. \ ‘ ' ‘ ‘ “,I’ll do it.” , ' . 'Barby sat. by the open window watching for- the approach of that welcome‘an familiar step, occasxonally parting the leaves of the vine tggt‘ clambered over it, that she might .WWI‘ ,. 6" li htest footfall alcn the narrow woodpa‘thhy w rich she knew that a would come. , . ' The room, always scrupulously neat and clean presented quite a gala appearance. from the flowers that adorns 1t, inosfly roses of various; hues andshades, and wmchmade the. air heav With fragrances. " ' . ‘1 '; . ‘ ' They hot entity filled the vases on the but looped up emuslm' ’ ado" ' ,J ,v round table covered with sun linen, on ' ' remains ofuthe old- as toned, ’s . ~ deem : ,. I , , . \ \ “BLIND BARBARA’S SECRET." . 5 gold, rubbing' it with a napkin until it shone again. Like most of the blind, her sense of feeling guided her so perfectly that her misfortune would not have been apparent to a stranger as she moved about, altering this and adjusting that with a deftness and nicety of touch truly marvelous. “ That will do, I think. Won’t it, Ti 2” 5 Tip was a large, sleek~looking cat t at was lying on the threshold of the o n door basklng in the sun, to whom Barby ta ed a good deal, for the lack of any one else to talk to. _ _ Tip opened his sleepy yellow eyes, wavmg lllS tail gently to and fro, from the tip of which he derivedhis name, its whiteness being in strong contrast to the rest of his fur, Which was of jet- 155’ blackness. , v _ “ It ought to look well on this day of all days,” Sighed Barb , as she resumed her seat b the Window. “ wish I could see how it 100 _. I Wish I could see the face of my pretty nurslmg. ut it is as surely hidden from my eyes as IS liars who was placed beneath the turf seventeen years ago today. Ah, me!” i . Just then there came the sound of a ste but not the light, elastic footfall for which s e was Watching, and the glow of expectancy faded from the face that was turned eagerly 1n the direction whence the sound proceeded. “Ah, Tip, old fellow,” said Elmo, as the cat lazily arose at her approach. “ ou see I never come empty-handed,” she added, placing her basket in one chalr seat- ing herself in another. “ Here’s a beautifully- Imsted cake, a bottle of wine, oranges, nuts and I don’t know what all that Miss lrva sent you. Dear knows, it’s heavy enough. I” _ “Isn’t she coming?’ said Barby, paying no heed to this tempting enumeration. “No, not to—day; she has gone to town for . Sutton. She will be here to-morrow, if nothinggiappens. But she hasn’t forgotten you, you . Poor Barb could not see, but her hands lir ‘- . red lOVin y among the evidences of her din '— nfi’s thong tfulness for her comfort. I W111 ee them until she does come,” sh e aid], Puffin; are contents of the basket into th s . he @001! out the bottle of wine Elsie e1:- claimed: “ Dear met I had almost forgot what Miss Irva Charged me so many times to remember. ‘ ~. you to be sure and drink her health, “With many happy returns of the day. ” The Sightless eyes moistened. v “ Dear childl so I will, with all my heart.” f‘ Shetold me not to go until I had seen you drink it: so, if you take it now, I’ll be Jogging, for I have a deal to do before sunset.” Barby took two glasses from a comer of the cupboard. . I “You must take some, too; it Will do you good after your long walk.” _ Elsie made no objections; taking the bottle from Barby’s hand she ured a mi: 9 mto her vgwn glass, but filling or compamon’s to the run. Barby raised it to her lips. . - “ God bless my pretty nurslmg!” she said; “and grant, a year from to-day, that Blind . Barbara‘s Secret may be one no longer 2” . Elsie raised her glass, also, but not to her lips, keeping her eyes fixed upon her companion’s face as she drained the last drop out of hers. A, slight shiver passed through Barbara’s Veins as she replaced the glass on ~the table. Then the cheeks flushed. to crimson, and raising hfirhand to her forehead she sunk back in her c air. ' “ How—how strong that wine must be. It makes me feel so—so very strangely l” A moment later she uttered a faint cry, and would have rushed from the house but for El‘ sze’s detaining arm, who replacing her in her Chair held her there. She struggled for a few minutes, and then the paroxysm seemed to pass, and she la quiet, muttering incoherently, her _ey_es hal -close d, and apparently taking no cognizance of an y« thug around her. _ A For nearly half an hour Elsie stood by Barb (y, Watching her, in whom there was no percep i- ble change, then he went to the door. As she stood there, inwardly debating as to Whether it would be safe to leave her alone, she Saw a girl about ten, with bare, brown legs and f.99“,figgingham sunbonnet on her head, and a 3“ Pull 111 bar hand, on the other side of the a . ‘ymgfihyg Cinthy Beldent” 5 lacrossedovertowbereElsiestood. , , _ here are you going!" “ To Mrs. Sutton’s, to see if she don’t want to buy my berries. how nice they be. Do you think she’ll want ’em ’1?” “Yes; I’ll take them to her, myself. I want on to stagr with Barby, who is very sick. M rs. utton wil either come herself or send some one, and then you’ll get pay for the berries, and something besides.” The girl was nothing 10th. And, emptying ghe llgerries into her basket, Elsie took her way ac . CHAPTER VI. ASTONISHMENT AND soanow. IRVA had a world of trouble in matching the sample of silk given her by Mrs. Sutton, and it was nearly sundown when she returned. Knowin her impatient temper, she immedi- ately song t her room. She found Elsie there, sewing in one of the deep bay-windows. “ Where is your mistress, Elsie?” “She’s down to blind Barby’s, who is very sick. She has been there all the afternoon.” The weary, dispirited look vanished from Irva’s face. h “gSick—Barby sick? What is the matter with or “ I don’t know, miss. You see, soon after you was gone, Mrs. Sutton sent me with the basket of things, and to tell her that you’d be there to- morrow; so the poor thing wouldn’t be worry~ in’. I knew somethin’ was the matter with her the moment I looked at her. She sat in her chair, muttering and talkin’ to herself. and the strangest that ever was: an’ not a word could I get out of her that had the least bit of sense or reason in’t. ” “ How strangel I saw her yesterday, and never saw her looking better.” Elskie dropped her eyes demurely upon her or “That’s often the we . miss, with them that’s sick, just before they re took down; they’re more bright an’ chipper than ever they were in their lives. ”. Without heeding, if she heard this, Irva retied the hat that she had not removed, and turned to the door. ‘ “I must go and see her. I wish I had gone this mornin , as I promised.” “There is rs. Sutton. now.” Following the direction of Elsie’s eyes, Irva saw Mrs. Sutton coming up the steps. Stepping through the low, ogen window, she met her as she reached the pore . “ How is Barby?” “ Better. I left her also log. “I think you had bet r stay with her to- night,” continued Mrs. Sutton, turning to Elsie. “ Cynthia Beldeu is with her now, a very well- dismsed girl, but too oung and inexperienced to safe should Bar y have another attack similar to those she has already had.” “ I will go, too.” . Mrs. Sutton turned toward Irva with an air of surprise. _ “ You .' What good can you do her?” Irva’s cheeks flushed and her eyes kindled. “I can do her more good than either of you. lean watch, nurse, tend her. She would rather have me with her than any one else.” Mrs. Sutton regarded the speaker with an air of cold surprise. “No doubt you would do very wonderful things! But I happen to have some responsi- bility in the matter, and cannot allow you to i take it entirely out of my hands. You cannot say that I have ever interfered with your ex- cessive fondness for your nurse or hers for you, but now the case is different. e woman 18 in a very critiCal state of mind, and everything depends on her being kept perfectly quiet. Your resence would only serve to excite her, even If she recognized you, which is doubtful.” It was in vain that Irva pleaded; all she could obtain was the privilege of accompanying Elsie and just looking at her as she lay in w at looked more like a stupor than sleep. Irva could not keep the tears from her eyes as she saw the change that a few short hours had W wrought; the eyes were sunken, with dark lines around them while around the mouth and upon 1 the forehead was a troubled look, such as she had never seen there before. Elsm had strict injunctions not to let Irva stay more than five minutes, and she did not forget them. Pressing her lips softly to the limp. uncon- scious hand that I iyon the counter ane, Irva followed ‘her beckon nifln‘ger to the cor. “ What do you thin is the matter with poor BaI‘hY. ' Elsie tapped her forehead mysteriously with her forefinger. Irva stood, for a moment, transfixed with her- ror, and there was an appealing look in her e es that would have touched with pity a heart ess cold and hard. ' “But of course she will get better? it is not anything that will last?” “ She might, an’ then again she mightn’t." was the not very consoling reply, but with which Irva was obliged to content lei-self. She sadly retraced her way back, her heart filled with as much compunction as sorrow, an i which was not lessened at the sight of Mrs. Sut— ton, who was sitting out on the porch in the, moonlight, enjoying the cool evening breeze. Stephen was leaning against one of the pillars, smoking, removing his cigar at her approach. Mrs. Sutton glanced keenly at the face, on which traces of tears were plainly visible. “ You found poor Barby lookin very ill?” “ I never supposed any one coulg changeso in such a short time. Why has she no doctor?” “ Simply because there is none in this vicinity that can understand the peculiarities of her case. Her disease is mental not hysical. If she gets no better, I shall send to sician, or else take her there.” “ Ishall never forgive mlyself that I did not see her, as I promised. f I had, this might never have happened.” ' “You talk very foolishly. Irva, and display more vanity than I thought you Capable of. What difference do you an ose your being with'her would have made? is is not some— thing of new origin; it has been coming on for some time. I have seen for some months that Barby’s mind was failing and of late it has been painfully apparent. I was fearful of this, though I hoped to stave it off by avoiding ev- erything calculated to irritate and disturb. She has had very strange ideas of late, but I have made it a point not to contradict her, no 'matter how absurd or preposterous her statements.” There was more in these Words than appeared upon the surface, as Irva well knew, and she turned a startled, inquiring look upon the speak- er’s face. ‘ i ' But suddenly bethinking herself of Stephen’s presence, whose keen eyes were attentively “ watching her. she merely said: “ I have failed to discover anything absu Y or preposterous in her statements, though I ave can with her more than an one.” Wearied both in body an mind, Irva sought her own room. but not to sleep: anxious and troubled thoughts for some ‘hours drove'sleep . from her pillow. Barby, was not only the tender nurse of her infancy. but the only true friend she had ever v had, and with the 'ef she felt at the terrible misfortune, that ha overtaken her was mingled. an mexpressible feeling of desolation. Even when she believed that there was the near tie between them of mother and daughter she was conscious that Mrs. Sutton not ohl had no infection for her, but that there was at i'mes ' a feeling of re ressed, but . itive aversion. The rest of e househol were _mere depend- ents, selected by Mrs. Sutton with a sole view to their usefulness to her.‘ For reasons of her own, she was desirous that Irva should not exercise over these any influence or authority, which they were not slow to perceive. So, though they treated her with outward respect, they were careful not to evince any particular interest in one in whom their mistress evidently took so little. __ fl , > , CHAPTER V II. . THE FRUITLESS APPEAL. _ ' IRVA hadmade up her mind to go down to Barby’s cottage immediately after breakfast, without saying a word to any one, but she was forestalled b Mrs. Sutton, who, as she arose from the tab c, said: » f “ I am going to see Barby, Irva. You can go with me,1f you like.” lrva would have much preferred to go alone» but there was no help for it. So getting her hat. She joined Mrs. Sutton on the lawn, and. the two set out, followed b Cynthia with abus- ket, who being willing an good~natured, Mrs. Sutton had taken temporarily into her service. “If Barby don’t get better I shall have her\ taken to the house,” said Mrs. Sutton, as the v cottage came into view; “it is too much work to take proper care of her here.” ‘ “She is, she must be better!” said Irva as she hurried in through the gate past Mrs. Sutton, who said: ' ~ . ' ‘ . Stop out here, Irva, until I see how Barby ls . . Irva’s heart swalled with a sense of, wrong ew York for a phy- ‘ and‘impatience as Mrs, Sutton went into the and closing the door; left her outside; never, id she feel so much inclined to break -.through the iron rule to which she had been [subjected all her life. ' ' _ l * ._ ,' Lookin through the window she saw the dim ‘ outline o a form reclining in an easy-chair, and which she knew to be Bar%y’s, and a great load , seemed lifted from her heart. ‘ " “ She must be better, or she wouldn’t be sit- ‘ ‘ vtothe door, and silently mot;oned her to come ; 1 r . n. . , ' ‘ For a moment Irva stood silently by the chair, then she said: * .v‘E Barby.” ‘She was evidently awake, but not a quiver of Ache eyelid, not a muscle of the face showed that :she heard this. that heat so hopefully a few moments before. a 2 Touching her lips to one of the cold, listless y hands, Irva said; 4 4‘ . fillear nurse, itis I,~Irva. Don’t you know ’ me Barby?” . , , Something in these words, the tender, plead- ’_ tag tone, awoke a faint echo in the dim chambers 5 the memory; the dull, apathetic expression char; 1 to one of anxiety and pain. a finish] slowly both hands to her forehead she at ' them out, clutching the empty air like one'trying to get hold of something 1: at eluded , " '“ i~=-1_.used to know; but it has gone. Every- "thin’g has gone) God be?) me!” 1 . «The Sentence ende in a cry, so wild and that it struck terror to Irva s soul. ,' ' Sutton came quickly forward. ‘ .1,_,,‘f,mnst not excite her so! Take her out , V ‘ . .4»de hadnov’strength to resist, even if she had to do so, the strong arm that pushed her “ fi'mthe ‘ Sinking down upon the grass, tried to! shut out the cries and means, min- , with incoherent words, which came to her H Within,but which gradually grew fainter andafainter, and finally ceased altogether. Sutton came out, in her shawl and “flame, get up, Irva; thisis no place for you, on the damp ground.” - i ace of the speaker, in whichthere was . bother from motives of policy, or because really touched by the sight of the pale fine from which all light and gladness had van— JM Sutton’s voice was unusually gentle, “512.1223, ’ l V, a'sad spectacle, child; and from ‘ , h»;w(mldgladiyhave spared you. Iou'ght have let‘y’oa crime; but I knew you would ‘ , ' be satisfied untillyou ha .” ' t11%...qu'ouldnot mind it," sobbed Irva, “if I , do her any good.” i“ _ you cannot; your presence only makes 7, venues you must see. It was our pre- " and what you ,said to her that t w her ‘ such a state of excitement.” ‘ .“dt it.ch strange When she was well she dearly, and never seemed so happy when I was with her. ” “Rio generally so, I believe with those whose m are affected; they dislike those they for- fio‘ved best. I .’ . 7‘“ Barby asleep. You can look in on her "I? 1 like: then we mustbe‘ going. Be careful mnd‘aWawake her.” , film stood, with hushed breath by the couch lay in a repose so heavy and un- th = but forthc- breath that came faint. the parted lips, it would have seemed hike” d But it was so mufhhbfitte r $328323 "" o r eparOXysms t a a “us 2%, at shewent away almost comfortcnd. Mm‘ I fill. as Irva was of Mrs. Sutton and as little faith as she had in the sincerity 0t sudden interest she took in Barby she could acknowledge that she had the best of attention, and that nothing was left that could in any way contribute to her 3 ' , wassomething . "unicoke‘d for. p ' something mysterious in the tie be~ . . , twogwith whom there was neither ‘ bend of sympathy or feelin _. ’ in the world but be. out» i we thereon 311m . incomprehensible and al- Aecold hand scemed laid upon the warm heart ' " to her feet. looking into the com-‘ ' Indeed the arsonal‘ trouble and in: ' 5 to whichers. Sutton subjected l '1’ no manifestation of attraction no expression of' gratitude. . I - K; - There was no apparent'restriction placed'u on g Irva seeing Barby, and she looked in upon or v l i l l S l 7" ‘ ting- upl” was her glad reflection as Elsie came ' i l l i ' ornituran ,Her wants’were and the v ‘ ‘ W” ? mother, It would every day; alwa£s with the hope of finding some change in her.‘ at there was none, exce t that she seemed to sink deeper and deeper int e tor~ por that bcnumbed her intellect. ’ She paid no more heed to her coming and go- ing than if she had been a statue. Mrs. Sutton or Elsie was always present at these times, so she had no 0 portunity to speak to Barby, even if she had ared to do so after her experience of the distressing effect of her former effort. and which, however strange it seemed to her. she could not gainsay. There was another thing - that troubled Irva not a little; the time had passed in which Mrs. Sutton had promised to reveal to her the secret of her parentage, which she had not only failed to do, but ignored the subject altogether. ’ At first she ascribed this to the preoccupation of mind oocasioned by Barby’s condition, but as days passed and no allusion was made to it, her opinion cha ed. Added to this were vari- ous remarks by rs. Sutton, giving color to the idea that Barby’ mind was beginning to be af- fected prior to the revelation made known to the reader in, the o ening chapter of our story. Irva did not lieve this; so it had no other ef- fect than to convince her that she did not intend to redeem her promise. It was often on her mind to speak to her on the sub 'ect, but no opportunity presented itself; either tepben, Elsie or some oneof the servants were within hearing, and she did not care to discuss the matter before them. One morning Mrs. Sutton startled Irva by the announcement that she intended to take Barby to New York. “ The change will do her good,” she said: “and then she will have the benefit of the advice of a celebrated physician there, who makes a spe- cialty of such cases. ” . Many conflicting thoughts were aroused by these words, as the changing color in Irva’s face testified. “I hope you will not go without telling me what you promised?” “ Concerning what?” Irva could not entirely conceal her irritation at Mrs. Sutton’s assumption of unconsciousness. “ You surely cannot have forgotten? I refer to the messa e that Barby sent you, before she was taken i1 , and what you then promised to tell me.” ‘ Mrs. Sutton regarded the young girl with a smile of wondering pity, and then signed Elsie to leaVe the room. “Is it possible, Irva, that you pendence on the hallucinations o the condition of poor Barby?” “ It is quite ble, ma am ” said Irva, with a dignity that rs. Sutton had not looked for. “ for me to place the stron est reliance upon what Barby told me when you or I.” “ Then it becomes my duty to inform you that what she told you is Without the slightest found- a person in 'ation, with the exception that you are not my child. Since Barby-’3 mind began to fail her, she has been impressed with the (pi‘eposterous idea that you, are the daughter 0 a man of wealth and position, from whom I am wrongfinly de~ taining you. You ought to be able to see. vonr self, the foolishness of this. What possible ob- ject could I have in so-doing?” It was painful to see the doubts fears in the ingenuous face of the listener to this app/gal; which was unanswerable, though it so at ly failed to convince. v Mrs. Sutton continued: “I am so to destroy such a pretty ro- mance, but the fact is, no mystexrg' ban over your birth, except what 'unfo unate y, too common, that you are the c d of one who was a mother but not a wife.” . As Irva recalled the pure, sweet face of which she had obtained a assin glimpse, her heart rebelled fiercely a a at t “ Who was my other?” . “ Preperly speaking, you have none. The man to whom you owe your‘being had a fam- ily at the time of his acquaintance with your do you no to know his name,’or whereabouts and it might do much harm to innocent‘pa V es. ‘ He isin no condition to help on, even if he felt disposed to do so, which n’ot likely, as you have no legal claim u n , o . - ‘ ' I "wil eed was to go or be left behind, and she asked no and her hands to place any de-’ '8 was as sane 88 * "breaker-heart!” . , - , r left the room Irva eat like one, stunned andbe» 2:) » d r . ' ‘ - . ' .- “ Oh! if Barby were only well that I might question her»!”.she moaned. ' ' ‘ But, in her present state, she might as well, question the blank wall before her. ’ - ,; Having decided to take Barby to New York, Mrs. Sutton made immediate preparations to ;, that end. V It was arranged that she should take Elsie with her; dismissing the rest of the servants, ; with. the exce tion of a man and his wife who were to take c rge of the house. ' . Nothing was said to Irva asto whether she questions. I The idea of bein separated from Barby was ve distasteful to er, especial] in the painful. an pe lexing situation in whic he found her- self. I she nevor saw her again, how was this in tery to be cleared up?‘ Ewes clear to Irva that the passive and un- . questionin obedience that Barby rendered to ‘ whatever rs. Sutton said or/ suggested, was the effect of the influence 0 a strong will over a mind dulled and weakened by disease. The feeling was stron in her that if she could have an interview wit her nurse, free from Sutton’s resence, or Elsie’s, she mi ht be able 3 to get ho d of some clew that woul lead to the ‘-5 fiolution of the riddle that so pained and puzzled. er. . And though she well knew the risk she ran ‘ .‘fl »_ w \. .' in bein detected and. how angry Mrs. Sutton would ‘ at its knowledge, she determined to . . make the attempt. 7 She chose the time when she knew Mrs. *Sut» ton and Elsie were at the house and very busy; being careful to take a different direction, when, ' she started, from What she usually took in going to the cottage. ’ v 1 This way was musiderabl'y lon r, but Irva 7 walked very swiftly, and was no long in’ tra~. versing it. \' . . ; Looking through the window, she saw Barby” sitting in the same place, and almost in the some , position, in which she saw her last her head ' ‘: resting upon a pillow at the back of‘ her chair, a ded listlessly in her lap. r , She saw Cynthia in the next room, through « , the open door, who was evidently “ on guard?” As soon as the girl saw ,Irva, she seized her sun- bonnet, and went out by the back Way. Irva knew where and for what purpose she, had gone, and it served to quicken‘her mose— » ments. , - 1 . “ Dear Barby l” , , Irva’s heart beat fast; there certame was a change in the face to which her eyes were lifted so earnestly, though it hardly amounted to row; cognition. I l ’ ‘ You know Irva, Barby, don’t yank—your , baby your nursling?” . “ 'e is gone—everybody is gone.” . u , “ Oh! no, Barby, you are wrong: she'is here; right beside you. Oh! Barby, there 13 some-— thing that I want so very, very much to know- the secret of, my birth whoman were} . a You said you would tell me, if Sutton re- fused to do so, and she does refuse. Who were ' they, Barby?” ' ‘ r ' 4 I wasp! 'ful to see the eflort made by Bag): , to throwoff the rthat benumbed her fa , . ‘ ties. But it was al in vain. “I--I don’t know.” . _, V:- “Ohl'Barby, you do, you must know! Don’t - you remember what you told me? Try to rev 5 mhmbir'hn 1: £39.11: d 1 ' gan a'ooo an exit,e". lowed b one of utter opelessnegrp y, ' ‘, “ I—- can’t remember.” . -, " “Who was my mother?” . ; I . v , Just then there came the sound of a" nick. hurried steIp, and a, sudden tremor shoe the ,v hand that rva held closely in hers. ' ‘ “ She. she is comingi" - ‘ ' . Irva heard that step, and know well wi _.t n. , rtended, but she want on: I '. “Who wasm father?” ‘ \ . The change t t came over that impasnvc. (I face was almost startling: . . She raised her clenched, trembling hand..- “ He was 11—9. murderer !” ‘ ' - Irva was too much horrified to heed the form . that was now standing back of her, toqwell sat~ . isfled with the scene before her to care to inter.~ . ru 1.. . -« gating, a hast, to her feet, she Mtored: “Amati-gear!” ' * ” ~' w J “Yes. , He murdered S, curiosi ._BARBeR7 ,Stsggfiifli‘ ~ .. ~‘.mr1 ' “ e wronged,ibetrayed, murdered ‘ S ;Mrs‘. Sutton now into . . ' ' “Rash, rverse, hea strep girl! what do w u mean- '37 such conduct? . 0 you want to ~ {fill} Barby? I forbid you saying another word a er! . ' , Irva had no d' ‘tion to do this; disappoint- ” ed and heartsick, she turned. away, glad to es- , , cape the cruel eyes that had in them far less an- gerthan triumph. . Sutton now turned her attention to Bar- , 23, whose flushed face and dilated eyes indicat- -. the strong excitement under which she was 3 ' Giving‘her a swallow of somethin froma ' lass that she held to her lips, she stoo by her Or some minutes, holding one handOflrmly 1n hers and smoothing with soft, caressing touch the from her temples. It was not long before Barby lay as and as seemingly void of all thought and as when Irva entered. » , - On rceiving this, Mrs. Sutton moved toward , the Window where sat; a feeling of desola- tion in her oung heart, such as she had never ' ' rien before. I * , I. should be seriously offended with you, * Irva, did I not know that your foolish and: idle had wrought its own 1pumslunent. So all that will say to you is the I posmvely for- bid our having anything further to say toBar- " by dyuring the remainder of her stay here, which ' ‘efortunatel r for her—is very short, It is im- - ' Is for or ever torecover while she is so ’ I continually, excited and disturbed. If ouhad the affection that you pretend to have or her, ’ ‘ou wouldn’t do so. Come, I’m going to the ,3 case, and I‘Want you to go With me. _I can’t ‘ trust on here.” "Wit out rep ying to this, even by a look, Irva went into the next room. * , Mrs. Sutton followed. , ., ,"‘ What are you after?” she inquired, as she ' saw Irva open one of the drawers of the hu- uietly goofing: , reau. ‘ . “I want m ,mother’s picture. It is in this " Where the key?” , ' - v Mrs. Sutton looked into that pale,resolute face andthen taking the he from the chain around her neck, handed it to, er. , . . Irvaunloeked the box, taking the obJect of - her search from amonighe trinkets and keep. sakes; thenth the y returned it to Mrs. tton, saying: . . . , “I have a better right to it than any one.’ “ I have no wish to degive you of what must be so ve precious to a ughter’s heart I” - Stung y the covert sneer in these words, Irva turned upon her tormentor. “ It [is prpcious to me l~—my poor, wronged, .unhfigtlmotherl” , t . , “‘* your father com to claim you you can show into him. He w' need no other proof that ouarohis chil .” . , ‘ “V;hoeverthismanma behemlessthanno— thing to me! He gave to or death, and to me shame and sorrow, and, though he may call me child, Inevlgr calls! him father!” , ,' Mrs. u n ug e . x “ No matter; some day I Will send himto , ,yon.” , ‘ . . ' CHAPTER VIII- new sources no) son. ' AmMrs. Sutton had gone, as she, did the followin day, a at silence fell upon the big roomy cure, w inmates were narrow down to very'few. r , r Stephen went with her, but returned the next d-aygwith a message to Irva from Mrs. Sutton ,maesolpn as she got well settled, she would - ~ for er. - ' The only satisfaction that this promise afford ed sprun from the thought that she would notflbe entirefy separated from Barby, so but r what she would be able to know something as imggwhlrafi gutt'oit}! her. est he was careful to ' u no u , as , inform her, ' Stephemmained; making himself ' ted'WIth great de- af hula: man and his wife ' who had scheme. 1 K r e ouse. . r .W kegt her gwn room as $0156”, pgisible; familiarity so offensive to her at their first he invariably sou ht her-society believer. it was» ‘ i ' his ior ,' to do so. +4 . K, 7' ‘ 7 inorning,’about awash Mrsiasr‘ut-V tonlsdeparture, Ste hen handed her aletter. It wasfro‘m Mrs. utton', sayin that she was glossantly located in a house in t e suburbs of rooklyn, and directing him to bring Irva on to her immediately on‘ its reception. Irva was not ill-pleased at this news; for she Was not only in a state of mind to welcome most any change, but anxious as to how it was w ith Barby, of whom the letter made no mention. Irva s simple preparations were soon made. So secluded had been her life that, though liv- ing withm sound of the cars, she had never been inside of them; so it was a pleasant novelty to her to find herself borne swiftly along past farm-houses and through villages toward the reat metrOpolis of whose si hts and wonders s e had read, but never thong to see. Stephen watched with amused interest” the hightened color and the innocent joy and won- der that looked out of the big brown eyes of the young girl beside him, and which were so ab- sorbing as to make her quite oblivious of his presence, as‘ it wounded his vanity not a little to perceive. _ “ How lovely she is!” he thought “ and how very unsophisticated} She might fall into worse hands than mine.” v With this thogglht, .by which he sou ht to loss over the e desi of his bad cart, tephen addressed himse, to his paper. It was dusk when the cars rolled into the Grand Central Depot. As Stephen assisted her out, Irva was so con- fused by the noise, hustle, and hurrying to and ' fro, that she was glad to accept the arm he of- fered her. ‘_‘ I thought that perhaps Mrs. Sutton would be here to meet us,” he said, looking around. “,But it is some distance from Brooklyn and she knows that I am perfectly familiar with the we .” . godding to one of the many hands stretched out to him, Stephen placed his char in one of the long array of carriages that lin the street. For some time Irva amused herself b watch- ing the crowds of people revealed by t e glanc- ing lights as she whirled along, but when she reached the ferry she grew drowg. . The house mentioned in Mrs.- utton’s letter was situated on one of the interminable avenues , that lead out of Brook] n, the remote part of which was thinly settl . ‘ _ “ Is it much further?” said Irva, rousing her- solf and peering out into the darkness. ' “No; we are very near it now,” was the re. assuring reply. “ Mrs. Sutton selected a house in this vicinity in order that she might have a quiet place for your poor old nurse.’ This was very satisfactoryto Irva, who began to muse on this new phase in Mrs. Sutton’s char— acter. , Whoa had she before manifested so much regard for the comfort of her humble and help- less de ndenti—or, in fact for an one? She gan to think that e mu have more affection for Barby than she had given her credit for. , At last the carriage stopped, though it was anly to let Stephen open a gate, through which e house was situated in the midst of le unds, dotted with trees and shrubbery, be im outlines of whose foliage could be seen as lrva stepped from the car ‘ ’ v It was a square, substantia docking buildin , with broad stone steps, on the top of whic were huge pillars that supported the porch that jutted over the door. 1 The front part of it was in darkness, but from ' abay-window at the side a bright light was gleaming. , .A servant obeyed the summons of the bell, to which Stephen gave an energetic pull, ushering them into a cheerful and pleaSant room in the rear. where they were almost immediately joined by a stout, buxom looking woman, in a widow‘s cap and with a very subdued and paw sive expression. 7. , She seemed well knoWn to Stephen, who shook hands with bony-“introducing her to Irva as Mrs. Haverstraw. . r _ “This is the young lady you were expecting, Mrs. Haverstr .zmycousm’s‘ ter Miss IrvaSutton.” ’. Mrs. Ha “I Smilian an an adopted daugh- , verstraw smiled very upon a. \ S i , ’ _ “320 be sure. Very roses Miss. Sut- Hudsom—i forget its hams-ts cement physician , there in regard to her poor . fiend.” ' ~ , r ‘r Stephen glanced at Irya, whose countenance ’ showed disappointment‘and surprise. ' " ,; 5‘ Yes. I remember her speaking of some doc- . tor up there that she wanted to see. will", be back in a day or two.” ' ,, / x w “Oh, I ke no doubt of that, sir. She- charged me to make you and Miss Sutton as'«_’ comfortable as possible during her absence, _ which I shall take reat pleasure. in doing. 3 g “ Miss Sutton is ookin ‘very tired; her room Is in readiness if she won dlike to go mm". v Miss Sutton would like nothing better; andf following Mrs. Haverstraw, found herself in ac. large an pleasant room, whose rosewood fur»: hiture, snowy curtains and daintily—draped bed gave it a very bright and cheerful aspect; . r - After lookmg around to see if everything was as it should be, her conductress said: ‘ . - “Now, if there is anything that you wash? like in particular for your supper, just mention; , it and it shall be got. We have our dinner at six, but I delayed it to-ni ht, know;w that you would not be here until to.” - " ~ rva was not accustomed to having her‘wiishes'; so carefully consulted, and felt some pomptnacr tion at the involuntary coolness of her manner!" toward one evidently so desirous of contribute, ingtoher comfort. _ , I j : , ‘Many thanks. Pra do not ut yourself‘out’ in the least' an thing hat you ve’will be no- \ ceptable. lo y beg that it may be served in, myroom,asIamvery ' .‘ :- if, ‘I suppose Barby— be sick woman you spoke Oil-«went with M113. Sutttm?’ _ ‘ , - Mrs. Hhverstraw paused, with her on; the half—open door. * ‘ ' '* “ Oh, dear, es! She wouldn’t go Without her, whatever s e did. , I never saw such doves, tion in all my life, never! Your good would never let any one else give her a bite! . medicine, or take food hersel until she, the poor woman was served. It used to almost “ bringtearstomye es.” , _, . There was some hing' overstraiueddn this” and wearied and depressed in spirits, Irva > will;ng when she was legt to firsglf.th .5. £11 1 e tempting repast, ro ' y e tea _» dressed servant was aver Existential , . . ‘ . si'sting of half a broil chicken, abet bah, gotato, toast and tea together with a, dainty essert of berries an cream. lAnddespite depression upon. her spirits, and the fee I ._ it was a: little strange that ,Mrs. Sutton 3 ' {1. have left almost immediately her to the city I fight she could see n but masses of and bushes If an other dwelling . . the heavy foliage 0 these hid it from View » t ' She could not help musing on ‘tion; alone,in a great city, far and everything she known. , a : on she bethought herself. of -. , ‘ careth for the stranger,” who widow and the fatherless, ‘ , ' " goes and escort tookthe place of the no] th htst toppressedr r. l ‘ . ng a ittle worn vol . from her Irva read the beautiful ., ‘ mg'hshepherd, I shall not want!” 7 . « ‘encommittin herself to and guidance of e onl Fathershe barrister known, shelaid her h upon, her fellasleep, guarded securefilyfrom a ' I that surrounded her by 1m whose eye slumbers, and who is the “sure defense of whoputtheirtrustiuflim.” p.“ ‘ "seams Ix) ' ,'wnnrnmmmxl _ , Wmlrvaawokethenextmorning; ’ - L by the sun moonlit-canted briggtly: ’ V half-open shutters that}, it to. ' - ' 7, , She had scarce! completed her sin: whenMrs. Haven raw . _ at r “ “Good—morning. Miss have. 1' " and W ' .y city; but he charged me not to disturb you, but 1 _ ‘ , Sully’s approach until she heard an ejaculation let you sleep as long as you would.” Irva followed Mrs. Haverstrnw down to the breakfast room, whose pleasant aspect was en- ! from Mrs. Haverstraw. .. So interested was she that she did not observe . tion of her eyes, she saw him coming toward hanced by the eggs, coffee and hot muffins that E awaited her. Mrs. Haverstraw re-entered the room just as 1 _ _ _ ‘ along from the opposrte direction. Irvnvwas rising from the table. “ Your mamma left me a very pleasant com- ‘ mission.” she said, with a smile; “the replen- ishing of your wardrobe which I perceive is sadly needed. “Of course your dress is very nice for the them, with an eager smile upon his lips. Just then a tall, elegantly-dressed lady, with a plain, but very expressive countenance, came d 13s soon as she saw Sully she smiled and nod— e . W'ithout giving Irva the slightest sign of re- . cognition, Sully sprung past them, greeting the country, my dear.” added Mrs. Haverstraw, as : Irva glanced down with hightened color upon the plain, neatly fitting skirt of gray, which was her “ best;” “ but in the city people dress differently, you know, very naturally your friends are anxious to have you attired in ac- cordance with your new prospects, and the very «different society they will open to you.” - “ If. you knew me as well as you think you do,” smiled Irva, “you would know that I am but a simple country girl. with no prospects whatever.” “ I know more than you think!” was the sig- nificant response. Then, without seemin to notice the startled look in Irva’s eyes. Mrs. Iaverstraw added: “ Mr. Sully said he would send a carriage to take us to the city, and here it is. So run and get your hat." 'Irva had no time to make an objections, if she had had any to make. Her eart beat fast at the thought of riding in that beautiful car- riage, drawn bya pair of splendid bays, who :stood pawing the ground and arching their necks at the door. Mrs. Haverstraw drove directly to “ Stew- .arts,” not only astonishing but alarming poor Irva by the extent and variety of her purchases, especially as she was led to infer that they were all for her benefit. ‘ When she began to select the second silk Irva felt that she could no longer kee silent. “My dear Mrs. Haverstraw, cannot permit outo urchase anything further for me; you ave a ready bought more than I can ever think of wearing. ’ “ What nonsense. child,” said Mrs. Haver- straw, who was in the best possible humor; “I have bought nothing that you don’t absolutely need. 1livesides, the expense don’t come out of m ct." ' 3“ know.” persisted Irva; ” but there really is no one from whom I have any right to expect , such costly presents.” \ “ You are wrong ” said her companion, in the. significant tone she ad used once before; “ there isone from whom you have the best possible right to expect them.” A sudden tremor shook Irva’s frame. Did she, : could she refer to the father, whom she regard. ed with such strange feelings of mingled ten- derness and indignation—tenderness for all that the name implied, and indignation at his cruel desertion? .. . Had he-repented of his treatment of her and her helpless mother, and taken this way to ratone? ' Her brain grew bus at the very thought. In the meantime, rs. Haverstraw was bus at the silk counter. Having ordered the cler to cut oil’ the requisite number of yards she turned to Irva. “Goodness me! how pale you are looking! L Are you easily used up as this? Come up- stairs, and look at the hats; and then we Will ' have a rest.” Almost feeling as if she was the heroine of , ‘ , . some fairy story, Irva seated herself in the jele- [ 195513’ about, and “hose snowy aprons were m ‘ vator; with difficulty suppressing a. shriek as she . found herself suddenly lifted from the flOor. Mrs. Haverstraw smiled as she saw lrva’s per- turbation. “ You must learn not to be sur rised at any- thing, my dear ” she said, with». t e patronizin air of one who had seen too much of the worl to show any such weakness. Sailing up to one of the isales‘women, Mrs. Haverstraw demanded to see f‘ some of her new- est and'prettiest hats.” " After trying various of the bewildering col- lection onto Irva and; finding' some fault with each, she selected one, a perfact marvel of artis- tic skill in the shape of flOWershloce and rib- bon, and paying for it gave liirectiol»: to have it sent with the rest of the thi , “ That is all, I behave,” sail Mrs. Haverstraw, consulting her watch. “ It is most lunch-time. Mr.“ Sully said he would join us; and we Will go . down—stairs and wait for him!” ' For some minutes Irva sat Watchin the mov- ' 2 ing panorama of beautifull dressed adios that ' «swept past her in one ste stream. ! l new—comer with an appearance of great joy. After talking with moved along with her in the direction in which she was going, without giving Irva even a look though they passed so near her that the lady’s robe brushed her own. “It is because I am not fashionably dressed,” thought poor Irva, as she looked down upon her modest garb: feeling the slight, though she cared so little for the source from whence it came. Upon looking to see how Mrs. Haverstraw took this, she saw that she was over at the op- posite counter, quite absorbed in the contempla— tion of the goods displayed there. On Irva’s joini 'g her she took her arm, going in an opposite direction to that which Sully oo . “ Mr. Sull won’t be able to find us when he comes back, ’ said Irva, innocently. ‘ “ He won’t come back.” Mrs. Haverstraw surveyed Irva, evidently misinterpretin g the disturbed look upon her face. “ There is nothing that he would like better; on mustn’t be angry with him.” rva smiled. " That would be very silly in me. I don’t mind his going in the least. Only it looked a little odd.” “ It might seem so to those unacquainted with the circumstances. The lady you saw with him is his sister; very notional. and a great invalid. She is exceedingly fond of him. In fact, almost as 'ealous of his attentions to any younger lady as if she was his wife. He is under considerable obligations to her, and so humors her as much as possible.” “ Oh! I thought-—-” Here Irva stopped, almost ashamed to say what she had thought. “ You thought,’ laughed Mrs. Haverstraw. “ Now be frank, and own that you thought her more to him than this.” “ Oh! no. I didn’t notice much about the lady, except that she had a very nice face. I thought that Mr. Sully did not care to notice me because of my unfashionable dress.” “ You dear, silly child l” exclaimed Mrs. Haverstraw, in a tone of great relief, “it was nothing of the sort. You look better in that lain dress than his sister does in all her finery. 0t but what dress will make a. great difference in you. as you will see. But come, we will have a nice, quiet lunch all by ourselves, and then go home.” Irva enjoyed her lunch very much in the quiet and cosey nook selected by Mrs. Haverstruw from among the ion row of tables. She was 'ust tire enough to make rest plea- sant, just ungry enough to give zest to the cream and cakes before her. At a short distance was an “ aquarium” lined with shells and mosses, where gold and silver fish s orted as freely and joyously as in their native e ement. Above this was a tiny fountain, whose soft spray fell in fine drops around, cooling the so am. And as Irva watched the merry groups that came and went, the waiters, moving so noise- such strong contrast to their sable faces, she could not but feel that this change to her hith- erto quiet and secluded life was a very pleasant One. Mrs. Haverstraw added a plate of sandwiches to Irva’s order, to which she did ample justice “ to ping off,” as she called it, with cheese am app e—pie. “ I can’t live on such flummery as that ” she laughed, glancing at Irva’s dainty fare; “ I want something substantial.” - The waiter now brought. on two tumblers con- taining a colored mixture, in which were straws, and to which Mrs. Havarstraw applied herself with great gusto. “ Don’t be afraid of it child; it won’t hurt you,” she "said, as Irva pushed hers back, regard- m it with a look of disfavor. ‘ There is spirit init?” , “Only a drOp of wine, the merest dash in the world. Not enough to hurt a- fly. Try it, it will do you ood. . , Ira: 3 col: her headr LVBLINVD BARBARA’S SECRET; Following the dircc— ' don’t like it and don't. need it.” i ; “ I don’t like it, either,” said Mrs. Haverstraw, f“ who, having disposed of every drop in her own glass, now took Irva’s; “ but my doctor says I ,1 must, that my constitution requires it, and I find that it supports me wonderfully.” 1 Mrs. Haverstruw certainly manifested veryceé cmmnendable zeal in following her physician’s " . advice, for she did not rise from the table while'i. a drop remained in the glass. , She was in high spirits and very talkative; :; . entertaining Irva, on their ride home, with a ’1 her a few minutes he . ‘ “ I will not ask another question.” glowing description of the sights and gayetics of the great city, and which, one by one, were to be unfolded to her wondering eyes. '71' " You are very fortunate, my dear. Stephen _ is acquainted with everything worth seeing and ' will be such a delightful escort. Poor fellow! ’ I’m so sorry for his disappointment; he was counting so much on lunching with us!” This was the first time that Irva had heard , Mrs. Haverstraw call Mr. Sully by his Christian ' name. “You have known Mr. Sully some time?” “Ever since he was a boy: in fact, we were '. children together; and always the same honor- : able, kind—hearted, generous creature that you ; see him now. She’ll be a happy woman that gets Mm !” Irva. neither assented or dissented from this. Mrs. Haverstraw studied for some moments _v the partly-averted face. : “ Now, be frank with me, and say if you have not thought him—well, just a little fast?” Irva colored. She had felt a sort of repug— '- nance to Stephen at their first acquaintance— '3 though it had sensibly lessened of late—but had i never thought of putting it in that form. . “I don’t flatter myself that my opinion of g Mr. Sully is of much consequence.” , “ You are wrong. I, for one, would feel very sorry to have , ou think ill of him.” ’ " “But I don’ l It would be very ungrateful of me to think ill of one who has done me so many kindnesses, and never any harm.” Mrs. Haverstraw studied Irva’s face again, as .thou rh a little doubtful as to the ground on whic she stood. ‘ “ Mr. Sully belongs to a. very wealthy family. and has always been in receipt of a large in. come. As a matter of course, his life has been a very gay one; but he is one of the most moral young men I ever knew!” Mrs. Haverstraw made this assertion with an energy of look and tone that defied contradic- tion. ‘ “ I am glad to hear it. ” Irva. said this with an air of weariness, as though she did not care to pursue the subject further. She was not particular] interested in Stephen’s merits or demerits, an just now her mind was full of other and more pleasant thoughts. - . . . They were now nearly home, which was m the outskirts of the cit , and leanin back in the carria, , Irva looke out upon a beautiful groun s and residences by which, they were passing. ' . t “Perha my father is livmg near me,” she mused, “ n one of these houses.” Various were the lights and shadows that flit< ted across Irva’s face as she pursued this train of thought. Mrs. Haverstraw watched them with wonder ino‘ interest. ‘ A penny for your thoughts, my dear!” Irva looked at the questioner for a. moment. She felt, instinctively, that hers was not a na- ture tosympathize With all that her ardent ima» gination had pictured. But there was a qhestion a that had often been upon the tip of her tongue . 1 during the ‘day, and now she uttered it. ‘ “ I was thinking of what you said this morn— ing, that you knew more of me than I thought. What did you mean by it?” . Mrs. Haverstraw looked puzzled. She did not consider it prudent, at this stage of affairs, to tell Irva exactly what she did mean, nor did she .; want to relinquish the hold that she perceived her supposed knowledge—of whatever nature it might be~had on her mind. : So she shook her head, mysteriously. , “I am not at liberty to tellyou, just now: when the proper time comes, you shall know. I You would not want me to betray any confi‘ dence placed in me?” “Not for worlds!” was the earnest response. “I can tell you this much,” ed Haverstraw 'ng with emp ' ; “it is I something that will make you consider yourself .. g a. very fortunate girl.” . ~ ' . ‘ '2 Irva’s eyes grew very bright. “ I said I would askgno more duestions. aud'I, . I ‘ I * ' ' BLIND/[BARBARA’S SECRET- :- will keep my word; but I can have my own * tllnlights.” . . ‘ The impulse was strong upon Mrs. Haver- , Straw to ask what these thoughts were, but she ‘. feared, if she did, that she would have to be more communicative than she, cared to be. Irva was lad to find herself alone in her own r0011), in orger that she mi ht 've herself up to it, 8 happy thoughts that [ii ed or heart. The imagination is so vivid at that age that it takes very little to kindle it; and out of the meager material furnished her, poor Irva began to build very beautiful castles. Not only Mrs. Haverstraw’s hints, but her . Sudden summons to the city Mrs. Sutton’s mys- tllil'lous departure, the cost y presents lavished , “P011 her, so different from anything she had ever known, all combined to arouse and con- figmrtthe new hopes that had sprung up in her a . From her earliest childhood, Irva had been ‘ Prene to strap e and tender imaginings con- - earning the f’aEher she had never seen, and of W ose name she was now in ignorance, and this iIll'oel'est had been strengthened by words drop- Ped, from time to time, by Barby, whose very refusal to satisfy her curiosity served only to -; enhance it. She eften spoke of Mr. Sutton, but ‘ never as though he was anything to her. Irva had someway conceived the idea that her father was a former husband of her mother “‘85 she had been taught to consider Mrs. Sut- n, That the law, and not death, must have ~ ‘Separated them was evident from the fact that, Of late years, Barby had always spoken of him \, as being alive. ' “ Some da you shall know who our father " is,” she won] i say. “And high as holds his flied ihe "shall not be ashamed of my pretty rs n . t ‘ Irva ad never doubted but what she should 801116 day find him, and that he wouldbe worthy 3:239 love she was hoarding up in her heart 1 . h True, Barby ’s words at their last interview 18d cruelly dispelled this illusion; but the Niger she reflected upon her condition of mind, ath 9 lit‘lnefihe less credence di she give to them. , 7 in .el' ' «tune to love” had not come. No real- , tion of anything more tender than a father’s love bad 5 . - . en beam “had her cheek, or stirred her mind . And as She bowed her can head in rayer 511? besought that He, X wag brin Enigmy’ $113831)” pass.” would cause the rea ization of ’ 8 first and dearest wish of her heart. CHAPTER X. rim amour: sums. . ' WHEN Irva came down stairs. the next morn- gins. she found the various purchases of the day ', ' ’efore strewed eyer the sofa and table, and ' fi rs. ’Haverstraw in a perfect ecstasy of admira- , on. Irva had manifested so much indifference, and even reluctance at this outlay, that Mrs. averstraw‘was most . agreeably surprised at the. almost childish interest and delight with 8 1ch she surveyed" the beautiful and costly rics; To that lady’s assertion that “ they must be made by a fashionable modiste, and in the most ;; fashionable ' manner,” Irva assented; and the greater part of the remainder of” the week was grant in the selection of trimmi s and designs, fitting” and “trying on” that entailed. - The love of the beautiful is inherent in we- . "man‘s nature, and Irva took a genuine deli ht “ “1 sceing the beautiful silks, laces and mus iis fashioned into still more beautiful garments. _ hat'these were a father’s gifts, to which . she find the most sacred right, she never permitted ' . 93ml! to doubt. I He wants to make sure that I' shall not Shame his name and station,” she thought. , And she felt that she could not show her love , arid gratitude more than by making the most of ~ _ 9 Opportunities and adornments lavished so f 81v u n her ,nriirs. Iggverstraw watched with interest this , g ‘ eygihase to her character. ,w he don’t care two straws for Stephen,” {1 h as her inward reflection; “ but, in spite of all 1 the} ’ _ tan we 3 and notions, she IS fond 01' I . 988. and a g I rOnga' 'on. won the followin “a: Q”? $35.3}. éifirmw'g‘ ind“ that a {pig-a is Miss imme a no z On her way to church. I, saw her 3) front way,,abmit ten min . rgyebbnok in her hand.” " a Centennditl ‘ goin out Vutes ago, w th a - ant, I had got along a little A ” ticn, and.that is almost as . Sunday, Stephen made his r “It wouldn’t have made the slightest differ- ence if you had; she would havegone to church, in spite of £31, or any other man. She’s a per- fect little itan! I don’t believe she’d omit her morningl and evening devotions for the wealth of a 'ngdom.” . Stephen shrugged his shoulders. f‘ I don’t see where she got such notions; not from Lucia Sutton, that’s certain.” I “ From what I know of that person, I should say not, most decided] . But then, you must ' remember that she has 11 left almost exclu— l sively to the care and society of her nurse; Lucia said as much herself. Do you know, Stephen, I think there is something ve mys- terious in the care and attention she be we on that old woman? She can’t make me believe that she hasn’t some object in it; I know her too well. During all the time 'she was here, she never allowed me to s to Barby unless she was present. It’s m elief that the old woman giggle something at Lucia is afraid she’ll “ To tell the truth, Nellie, I don’t care what her object is, so long as I get mine. It strikes me that I am making very slow pro ess.” “Take in advice and go to churc this morn- ing. and ma e herthink it to be your invariable practice. It will make a more favorable im- pression on her than anythin you could do.” “Do you think so? It won dbe a pretty hard role for me to play, I fancy. . The fact is, it’s so long since I’ve seen the inside of a church that I shouldn’t know how to behave. I have a mind to try it, though. I’ll have a walk home with :35, at all events.” What church did she go “ The one on the corner, four blocks below.” Stephen seized his hat, and was off. Services had commenced when he reached the church; and for the first time in years he lis- tened to the voice of prayer as t proceeded from the lips of a venerable, white-haired man, those tremulous tones were full of feeling and ervor. Had it been a theater, gambling-saloon, or, in fact, anything else Stephen would have been perfectly at home, but as it was, no fish out of water was more completely out of his element than he, as he tiptoed himself into one of the pews near the door. “ At Rome do as the Romans do,” he sneered, as be bent his unaccustomed knee upon the cushion. ‘ He contrived to“ take a sly look around the church through his fingers, as he knelt, for which he was duly rewarded. ' There, a few pews in front of him, was his di- vinity, entirely unconscious that she was in the presence of any one but Him, to whom her heart was ascending in such fervent prayer. There was a rapt look upon the young face that reminded him of some heads of Raphael that he had seen in an old church in Rome. But all that freshness and innocence aroused no feelin of reverence in the heart of the man who sat hiring in its beauty of outline and .coloring who would a drau ht of wine. He admired them, indee , but it is only as some admire flowers; inhaling their fragrance for a moment and then trampling them be. neath their feet. ‘ , Stephen thought, or affected to think, the minority of those who professed roll on tobe hypocrites, who wore it as a mask, an the rest foo 3. An idea by no means uncommon with those of his ilk. “ She’s sincere, what-ever else she. is,” he thou ht, as he watched the devout manner with whic she went throu h the service. “ But saint or sinner. it is all t e same to me. I’m not sure but her saintship gives her a new charm; it certainly adds the zest of novelty.” Just across the aisle from IrVa were two you men, the elder and taller of whom often foun . his e es wandering over to where‘she sat. “ ow s ely familiar that face looks to me!” he the t. “I have, surely, seen it be- fore though can’t remember where.” When the service was ended Stephen lingered by the door, joining Irva as she came out. The two men, before alluded to, were some distance ,0 , “ Look!” said the elder cue, 5‘ isn’t that cousin Steve?” “ Where?” .“ He’s gone now,” said the first ' er, in a disappointed tone. “ But I could a most swear a was Steve or hiss paritimi.” ‘ “_You may rest confideill: that it was his ap— l pantion, then,” laughed his companion. “That exem lary cousin of yours is more no for * atten ance u races, and other kindred follies than any sue I place “as this. Besides, what w brina‘him off out here?” . . ‘ . mail has seemed. “By the way, Dick, did you see that sweet piece of dimity on the other side of us? You needn’t say you didn’t for I saw on looking over there. By Joye, but I won] have iven , ‘ ' something to have seen those long lashes 'fted . . long enough for me to see what color the eyes ' were. She kepK them so provokin‘ gly bent upon her rayer-boo .” “ ery ssibly she saw something there that intere her,” said Dick, 3 little dryly, the. words and tones of his companion 'arring upm his feelings, he could not have tol why, if In a gas" had tried. 3 But to return to Stephen and Irva. The color deepened in the cheeks of Irva as Stephen joined her; whether from surprise or pleasure he could not tell, though his vanity whispered the latter. Desirous that she should think their meeting by accident, he said: “ HOW fortunate! This must be given me as a: reward ‘for being good,’ as the children say, and goin to church. “ would rather hope that Mr. Sully found his reward in the feelings that drew him thith— er,” was the so filly-spoken reply. , - ti “So I have,” was Stephen’s sneering reflec~ on. Then aloud: I r “ “Very true, But it seems [am to have two " t : rewards; one entirely unex ,ected.” ' He then began to praise t .e sermon, the text of which he had contrived to remember, skill- fully turning the conversation ' on the religious topics of the day, of which he had gained ’8. our,- sor knowledge through the Papers. (1 spoke of various nevo ent schemes of the ' efforts being put forth to disseminate religious instruction among the messes: up ealing to, and deferring to her opinion with a delicate flattery _ far more dangerous to a nature like Irva’s than ‘ the most glowin praise of her rsonal charms. The surprise t t she first to t deepened into. genuine interest as he proceeded; an interest that was lainly visible in the large brown e e; that so 0 ten sought his, and which evin a simple faith in all that he told her that amused as well as interested him. , - “I am lad that you‘feel so ”shesaid asthey ‘ ascended steps. “I didn’t know that you , cared about such things.” I He was rewarded for his “ cod, gloody talk ” ash privately termed it to iii-s. averstraw, b ’s consenting to take a quiet drive with him out to the park, a little contrary to her ’ ginoiples, which were rather strict in such mat- rs. <\,a- 4. Mrs. Bayer-straw went with them, but she took her novel with her, and ensconcing herself in the further corner of the roomv carria e,‘ seemed to have neither eyes nor thoughts or an thing else. v a his arrangement suited Stephen very. well; but he was careful to take no ap nt advan« tage of it. Though quick to ren er her every attention she required, had she been a princess of the blood royal, and he one of her train, he could not have treated her with more deference and res t. , , Satis ed with the progress he was making, he was content with sittin so close beside tern watching the lights an shadows that flit . across her face as she talked, which she did with . more freedom and confidence than she had ever evinced before. . Mindful of the impressxon he had made, and V anxious to deepen it, Stephen let the conversa- ‘ , tion insensibly drift into. a channel suitable to n ' ‘ i. the sacredness of the day and the estimation in ‘ which he knew his fair companion re ed it. He led Irva to talk of her childh , and her old nurse, with whom it was princi 1y spent, and whwe teachings and example vdoneso much _to mold her character; partly because he . » . " knew it was a pleasant topic to her, and partly .x ’ because there were some things he was anxious to ascertain. “ This ollld nurse of {ours mus? not 0111 be; very exce en pe ut t 811 1‘ education and reggment thosye in or walk of life?” “She is, indeed,” responded Irva. " I’ve of- ten thought she must have once occupied a very different station. When I remember some things she said I am quite surelof it. Poor ' i _. nurse! hers was a sad fate; blind, hel less and _ .' dependent. Yet she was so resign and pa- ‘ wtient; I don’t think I ever heard a murmuring , ' iv 5 'word from her lips.” . p v e ,r you anything about her-V r, . ‘ “Did she never tell self or family?” . g“ No; she always seemed averse to talking about her past/life. Air her‘allusions to it were entaliwhen she weanpt WW. as it .’ 10’;~ '* I! BLI'anskasAR ‘ Stephan now began to tell Irva somethi'nghclgf ' II S , invention, and the Whole desi his own early life, mfl‘htioning incidents boyhood—many. of them the product of his own ed to give the . impression that all the sins an follies of which he had been guilty were mainly the result of the wrong influences and training to which he had been subjected. ; _ . Encouraged by the interest with which Irva j .llstened he bewailed the lost time and opportu— rsntie 0 his , ~ ' ' “ ot that I’ve done anything bad,” he hasten- , youth. «ed to ex lain, as Irva opened her eyes a little at "the dept .y 011 know ’fiiind myself so different, ev ' I “strongly to Irva’s warm, sym of his contrition, “but so little good, "liaise-t,” he added, with a deep sigh, “I way, from what ..I ought to be, at my age, the. I am almost in ' ‘ vle- ir!” , v ' here was somethin in all that up led g thetic li'ealx)'tea too ' simple and inexperienced to enact the ho ow- ness and insincerity of these professions, and she felt called upon to respond with_words of hope and encouragement; words received by Stephen with outward humility and thankfu uses, but with an inward amusement that would have as» -tonished and provoked Irva not a little had she known it. There was something delightful to this man of the world, so versed in all its follies and sinful leasures that they pulled upon his senses, to £10k into those eyes, that mirrored forth so clearly the innocence, whose Eden he so burn- _ ed to destroy. ' T The sympathies he had enlisted had clouded ' her perceptions, and hesaw', with fiendish, oy, \ I ' .be forgotten. x” ,/ . g ' jun . r V d ‘ _ pitiful to hearhim talk about his neglected boy- ’4 the influence he was gaining over that confl g " 'V . and cre'dulousheart. He had nothought of the invisible barriers - between her soul and his. nor yet of the am gelic; influences at work to defeat is hellish ' I plot. He scouted at*the very idea’ 0 an over- - ' Power, the sure defénse of all wheycom- ,mit, their wa s to Him. « _ ’Yet/well. 'd this .man know if the lwho sat so smilingly beside him caught at the faintest glimpse of all that he was, she would shrink from him with horror and loathing. . So he- covered it careful] from her View; deadening“ by the incense o flattery and ad- ulationsaghe ptare (iinstingts that are. woman’s surest eguar an , l e. "‘I‘have to thank $10.. for a very pleasant day,” whispered Stephen, as he a3sisted her fromrthe carria e; “one which will not soon y mother was a fashionable woman, who cared for nothing butdress and display and her daughter followed in her foot- steps. ’I-Iad I been so fortunate as tohavea sister like you I should be a different than from »__ _' "what I am.” ‘ Poor Irva! the tempter had found the vulner- able part other armor. , . , She regarded the compliments that Stephen had lavished n 11 her personal beauty as some- .thing henwoul . have paid to any pretty wo- man for whom he had a passing fancy. . ' 'He might have rhapsodized b the hour on a the beauty of her eyes or. comp exion without ‘_ ghrgducing any other effect save annoyance. , did not value hermlf on these things: and nothing voxed her more than to discover that I: “1 "she was valued chiefly for the external beauty ‘ that she could not but know she ' e deli .' .T-horo hl imbued with ght of being aligns; the thought that she had n able to’ influence to good aman of Ste hen’s ‘ years and experience, contained a subt' e and 1 delicious flattery that she.was unable to resist. With this was mingled some com unctiom, “ Poor fellow!” she thought. “ fear I have ed him too hardly. There really IS a great of good in him. I declare! it was really ood-meglected, in gpite of all his wealth. I must try to help him. Ex rience had not taught Irva that no help couldpgome through her. hat by that strange and unnatural rversion by which good is turned into evi and a b essmg to a curse, all that was pure, sweet and womanly in her only ' served to. arouse to a still greater intensity the ‘ evil of that dark and evil nature, whose depths she could not fathom. Peer foolish child! she needed help herself. ' . Trouble was thickening about her; snares were weavin around her unw feet, all the more hangergus because of the were that covered I onArrnn x1. 7 IN WHICH STEPHEN snows ms HAND. THE days that followed were very busgr and ; happy ones to Irva, almost too busy for or to , have time to think. ' l I ; Stephen took her to an. the sights of the city; .1 :‘to the Park, to Greenwood, to art galleries and various places of amusement. , There was never a day that they did not go somewhere, and sel- dom an evening. ' ‘ Mrs, Haverstraw generally accompanied them; Irva took care to have it understood that she expected this and S hen did not feel so sure of his ground as to think it prudent to run counter to her wishes in' a point like this. But that lady was very discree , and contrived to make. her presence as little a parent as sible; she being conveniently blin and deaf much that was in around her. ‘ The d' rust t at Irva had felt and evinced for ' Stephen had melted away beneath the gentle de- ference of his manner and the fair outside view he presented. She no lon or avoided him, or treated him with reservew en they met. She laughed and chatted with him, expressing her opinions with girlish frankness on all that she saw and heard. ' uses that .annoye Ste hen: the unreservedness him see‘that he held no special lace there. In spite ofthe innocent fre cm of her man‘- nor, there was a point beyond which he dared not vgo. He'was shrewd enough to see that the pri leg-es accorded him were based upon her unconsciousness of evil, not her toleration of it; that if her suspicions were once aroused he could deceive her no more. He knew that rva had a character and mental caliber beyond her years, and that he had a resolute, clear-sighted woman todeal with, if she were once amused to the danger of her position and knowledge of his true character. Itis safe to say that Stephen did not find the restraints he was ,forced to put upon himself veiéy easygor palatable. Wha he called love, an whic 'was, perhaps as near an approach to it as he was capable o , had, grown stronger da by da . It partook of the selfishness and se ‘ will t t were inherent in the man, but it was genuine in its quality, and stronger in its de- greethan‘ an ring he had ever before experi- enced in his ife. In the meantime, Mrs. Haverstraw had had a letter from Mrs. Sutton, stating that Barby was so much improved by the treatment she was having that she should remain where she was for the present. . - ' ’ She made no allusion to Irva, excefit to hope that she was well and engoymgtéierse . Irva had by no means or o n the romance woven by her busy brain; 8 e had added man a cha r to it from time to time, though _1t must owned it was from material that a less active imagination could have made little use of. One thin she specially noted, that she rarel ’ expressed a? h or admiration for any artic e of personal adornment in the presence of Mrs. Haverstraw, but she found i on her bed or table soon after. That that lady was in com- munication with some friend of hers, whose abilit was equal to his love, was clear to her. An who should this be but the father she so yearned to see—and that Barby had often said would one day claim her? How long was she to be banished from his resence? when would she be able to tell him were nothinfigompared to his love? ,‘ , One day 9. found a beautiful ‘set of sa hires on her dressing-table—the ve one s e ad admired so much at 'I‘iflany’s cull? the day before. She recognized it as soon as s e opened the velvet-lined case where it lay. . ~ As she steed looking at it, lost in surprise and admiration, Mrs. Haverstraw entered. ‘ . She smiled as she saw what Irva was holding in her hand. ' ’ “He who gave you that and all your other beau’tiful presents, is , below, waiting to A see on. , yél’ale, almost breathless with suspense, Irva turned toward the speaker. “Oh! tell me! is it be, my—” “I didn’t ,come to answar any questiOns, child,’? interrupted Mrs; Haverstraw with an impatient gesture, “ but to help. you dress. I want you to look as charming as possible. Where is that'new silk?” ered by the thoughts and conjectures ‘ that filled her mind, Irva submitted'psssively to the hands that'arrsved her in one of the But there was gpmething in this very frank- ‘ with which she show him her whole heart let ' hat all the costly gifts he lavished upon her 1‘ . 1 ' who , table, whose azure li ht trem led as the bosom ' rose and fell with g friend "you have, and receive him as be de- » far more precious gift that I have come to ask handsomest of her dresses. It was one of those rich hroWn silks, with s glint of gold in it, very , heavy and lustrous, with the corsage sufficient] y 3 ‘- low to rays 1 the symmetry and exceeding 'fair- ness of the neck and shoul ers. ‘~ ~ ‘ Around these she drew ‘a bertha of soft, ‘ creamy lace, fastenin it at thethroat with the pm belonging to e as hire set on the oughtstoo big for utter- ance. Clasping the braceletsraround the arms, Mrs. Haverstraw led Irva in triumph to the mirror. There was a wistful, beseeching expression in the eyes that looked out upon her. ' ' No feelin of vanity stirred her heart, as she saw how fa r and sweet that vision was' only this thought was‘ there: “ Will miy father love me ?” Shere came a tap at the door. - “There is a gentleman in the parlor waiting to Miss Sutton.” Mrs. Haverstraw smiled. “ He is getting impatient, and no wonder. Come.” . ' Like one in a dream, from which she feared to waken, Irva descended the stairs. - Mrs. Haverstraw followed close behind. “ Remember!” she whispered “ that he who is waiting to see you, is the ' and truest serves. ' Irva stood for a moment with her hand on the knob of the door, trying to still the throbbing heart which beat almost to suflfooation, and then went in. , wing dusk. At the further and of It was . therng raWin ~‘rootn, she saw the dim outline j, of a man whose ace was turned from her. 9 Attracted by the soft rustle .of her trailing , robes, he advanced eagerl toward her; us— - I . ing when within a. ,few fee, of her, as if c eck— ed by something he saw in, the eyesk and which were fixed upon him with such a loo of surprise and disappomtment. , g “ Fairest of women! how can I orificientl y thank you for this frank and filmlmpt acceptance of my gift, and all the deligh hopes to which it “we rise?” ‘ ‘ ‘ ,2 e blood suddenly receded from Irva?’s face; " glancin around the room, she locked into Ste- phen’s ace, as if but dimly comprehending his meaning. . ” “ Your—gift?” “Yes mine. Me I not be your wearing , of it to be’a favorab e angury n regard to the ' our hands?” he tone in which this was spoken was very . tender and seductive, but it was quite thrown . . ; awathupon Irva. Indeed, it is doubtful as to 4 or her mind took in any but one point, » the one that alone interested her. ; i‘ Am I to understand, Mr. Bull , that not only ’" this, butallthe gifts’I have ha and which I 811W were from—3’ , . ere Irva’s feelings overpowered her, and her voice choked. ‘ ‘ , ' 4 _ “ a{Ion mean to tell me, sir,” she resumed, “that I have received during the six weeks I have been here, to be from you 3” , > “ They certainly Were,” returned Stephen, , not a little piqued at Irva’stone and manner; a: “Who did you sulppose they were from?” ‘V - “ From‘ him, w 0 alone has any right to give me such—my father.” ‘ “*er ather I” . As Sm en Icoked at Irva, from whése, eyes the tears. of disaplpointment and mortificationr were falling fast e realized, as he never had before, not only how far she was from him, but from all that he would lgladly make her. » . Not all his arts and b dishments could call forth the slightest approach to an sympathy With the passion that ad taken suc strong and complete possession of him. She‘ had been dreaming not [of a lover, buts. father’s love! i To do Stephen justice, the surprise’he mama , fasted at this discovery was enuine; he had no “a idea of the suppositions and lusions with which 1:1 poor Irva had been deluding herself. ' The at freedom and matter-of-fact wa with which she received his presents, had led to infer of» late, that she supposed they were from Mrs. Sutton; and he fancied that the time had come , when he could safel disabuse her of the idea. He was so and startled at the result as tohardly ow what to do or say. athlyg ve unusual withhim. , . “ is a very unfortunate mistake, but you“ must not blame me for it. I so posed the I was, at least, a tacit on yout, partsstohow itWaa?’ ; . ’ J = The color came back to Irva’s cheeks. . 1, .y. , WM, \ ., gives—a love that ' - Irva near it, an ‘ this hour.” . x" , “*“fTfl ' I :1, «,3 ,_~.. rv, ' «my, . «- . - , ,, . .A « r ,. u arr” .- a w .w . w “my » ’\, . 1 'w» - 2.3.833 ' 4 ‘1 ‘ 3“ _, f‘I don’tknow Whyvou shonldsupp . ose an, «v "thing of the sort, Mr. Sully. What right huge . you to give, or I to accept them?” , - - . ~ " The best ofvall ri hts~that which mfy love never before felt or we man!" V, . I I I 1 . Irva looked at the Speaker. 1 , For the first time Stephen let his long sup- pressed feelings ndwexprcssion in the e- e that met her own, and the revelation it gave r was as unexpected as unWelco’me. . _ She knew that Stephen liked and admired her, “ but he,had been so guarded that any such feel— ! ing as this she had never dreamed of. From words dropped by him, as well as Mrs. Haver- . straw, she‘ judged his family to be too high to . admit of his marryiu a portionless, nameless girl, and that be we d offer anything less it never entered her innocent heart to conceive. .“ You don‘t know what you are saying.” “I know that I love you, Irva; so madly, so cntirel , that there is room for no other thought in m cart!” i .- 1 .. “ am sorry.” “Why are you sorry?” ‘ . - ‘ “I think any true woman must. feel sorry , to huge a love proffered hex-that she cannot re- urn. ‘ A > . “But you don’t know that—how can you? You arevso innocent and ine rienced that you .don’t know the capabilities your own nature, You will love me, in time; I'will be so true, so devoted, that you cannot help it 1” ~ . “If love Were a more efiort of. the will, it might be so. No, Mr. Sully, you are too good, on have been too kind to me. m many ways, ¥6r me to deceive you in so essential a point as this. I can never love you as I ought to love Wm husband.” . r - > v . I It was well for Stephen that the obscure light ' partially hid his face from view. . i There was «an indescribable change in his Voice as he said: “I am not good. . I donot claimto beworth. of yen—there are few men that are. But I o claim-to lovveslylou. Only trust yourself to me, Irva, and I ' make {go happy, if it E in the Deliver of mortal man do it! Just think, my I dear girl,’ what yen are. rejecting, not only a heart devoted to you, but all the ease and lux- ury that wealth can give. And then,.what will peopésthink? . “ hat will‘peo levthinkl’" _ v “Yes, what wil the think? You came to I the city with me: you ve been livingin afar-I .nished house, of which Iain known to hold the , lease—for, at Mrs. Sutton’s request, I took it off . ’ her hands. You have been seen daily in my company; Your are too unsophisticated to . know, Irva, how very censorious the world is." Irva tan-nod her flashing eyes upon thespeaker. “Yeulmewl” a s , “Of course, I know. But,- good heavensldo / you think I wouldhawilet .u icompromise" yourself thus, had Isupposed, or'one momen .3 ' that you did not understand my intentions, an = a - approve them?” , . ' ~ ' ~ “I will have the house tomorrow morning!” [cried Irva, risin from her seat. f‘I would never have come ‘ you have stated!” ‘ s i . '“Where will you go? Don’t act hastily 1n the matter You have no idea what a hard world thisis-toa girl brought up as you have been, and with neither fnen influence nor monegml forgot to tell you atI wrote to Mrs. uttonin‘re to my love for you: I ‘ received,a‘replyat ' morning, meltsinga letter to you. I bag that you will read «it before do- w}? agaimm”8te1ah placed. ' tin , en ' a chair for g g mannithdrewto’a window, ,where he arrangm the folds of the cur- tain, but stealt we. mg her face as she broke the seal of or letter and made hersalf mistress of its contents. ; « . v ' It looked so pale and troubled before—it m *’ pitifulto see the change half an “hour had . wrought—that there Was no perceptible altera- tion in it. . r ‘ ‘ , Letting it fall moments with her hand over her eyes. Then rising, she turned towardth “I must have time to think this ove . much can -I have?” “As much as you like. Only don’t keep me Ion in suspense.” . “ lmow'to-morrow evening, at How will let you “Irvaj’, _ r ,. . 5 x-Irua turnedth heed,_as she stood upon the threshold. - . " ' 1 “Don’t forget the good you ma do me, by Iknownthingstobeas- into her lap, she‘sat for Islamic r ' it. I have thought ofa plan. ‘ sage for consenting tomato my int. he or woman, 'now thinking she woul ' ever shall—not in the way you love me. me as you.’ _ A r , h L . Sever badger couldhavm so muéh influence over *0 CHAPTEa ,, _ , , A STARTLING DISCOVERY. Ina manewof doubt:i fears and conjectures, ‘the long day wore to a close. It wanted only half an hour of the time of Ste hen’s coming. ’ lifrs. Haverstraw, who had been with her nearly an hour, warniigg, coaxing, andexpostu- latin , was gone,»and s e was alone- . , Ta 'ng up Mrs. Sutton’sletter, she re—read it, and looking over her shoulder, let us see what it contains. . » ; It was as follows: ‘ ' , “Dun hut—Stephen‘s letter, confessing the nature of his feelings for you, was a great relief to me.~ I have worried about you a great deal, lately. As I am unable to give on a home, Or do anything more for you, I really idn’t, know what was going to become e on. , , “I did not t ink it best to tell you your father's ‘ name, aslt might make trouble, and could do you no posmble good, but under the circumstances I felt handed in making a direct appeal to him inlyour half, to which he has not deigned even to reply. So you see there is no hope on that score. “But you need not care for that, now; Stephen will rovide for you ‘better thanihe, who probably' thin that he has enoughxto provide for already. “ You ought to consider yourself a very fortunate 1-1 to have suchan alter as this.“ I hope you won't e so foolish as to re ect it. If you do, you will have your own way to ma e in the world, and a hard way you will find it. ' ' . ' ' ‘ “I leaye here on the next train. Do not w where I shall be for severalm’onths, at least, as I in- tend to travel. “ You need have no anxiety concerning Barby, who remains much the same, as I shall make her my spoolal care. Yours truly, . “Loom Sorrow." Irva had wept many tears over the «destruc‘ tion of her beautiful dreams, and which had seemed so. real to her, but there were no tears in her eyes now, but a hard, bitter look, that had never been there before. Her heart rebelled fiercely at, the fate assigned. her, the hardand stern realities of ,a life so dif- ferent from the, one she had pictured. , That life of. ease and luxury, its giddy round of pleasures, had had an enervating effect u 11 her, making ‘more loomy and repelling w 1: she knew must be ers if sherejected the hand held out to her. - . v As she sat thus, making fainter and fainter resistance against the tem tation that assailed her, some one rapped at. e door, with}; mes- sage whose purport she knew before the words reachedhor. - A , y , .7 .. Ina, paused a moment in front of the m1 rror; wondering if it could be the same that looked out upon her the; evenmg before, it were such a different aspect. As if fearingithat herkresolution might falter, ]she went . uic ly down the stairs, almost start- in pecially when he looked into herface. . She went up directly to him, and holding out herhand said: v , v y , ’ “ Mr. Sully, I don’t love you. I don’t thénk I ut don’t love an one else, and if, knowing this, you care to ta e inc—you can.” . Stephen started to his feet. “ Do I care to take youta—ohl‘ darling—’9 ' 1mfilth-ma. s a Step. backw, 81d: lrve. msed'. , her “ Stzfil I, have not finished yet. You say I have , ead compromise elf; I will not continue to 0 so. This sort 0 life must cease. . If on want. y must take me now.” l‘P/his was, oxygen , something that. Stephen did not expect. . ' _ ‘ “ My dearest Irvaaitcould not be too soon for me; but I have to! on haw it is with certain members of my f n to m m rying— , “ finenagou must choose between us!” inter- rupted Irva. “. You havecalle‘d me unsophisti- cated, and gerbaps I am, but I am . quick to, learn; and say, and mean it, that our mar— riag; mustbe now, or ngverl” . ‘ _ hen it must be new; for I will not give on up if itgseparates me from all my kindde ut I am under special obligations to 121118 818136133116. would hke to give her time to get Sreconciled to upposmg we immediate ‘y. My sister is so averse are married very» tied , Euro qto hygrgone six months, or more? .By the umpire ,get backeverything Will have blown over. ,I then introduce you to my relatives 'and friends.» , You do the rest; for have know you...“ fullv .,. dqthis. and now that, - Stop on by her sudden appearance, es- 4 f speak of it outside. apple'gve of my choice. .How does this strike on. y Stfinding in the shadow of the ba -window, en watched anxiously the part y-averted e. ' a i . “ Very favorably. I think I should like to go abroad. And I don’t care how quiet thawed- dmgrls.” . “ bank you a thousand times. my darlingliy was the rapturous response. “ Then it 'is all settled. A steamer leaves in three da 5, whose captain is a personal friend of mine. will en- gag? a passage for us in it tomorrow. ‘ You , need on y . you require can be got mm: more to, your on the other side. ‘ “And now!” . . followed these words, shiVering a little as his lips touched hers. way from him. “ You must , excuse me now. I did not much last night, and am very tired.” heart at the success that seemed likely .to’ crown amountedto anger w on he remembered the’lan- guage used b Irva in giving her consent. ._ The indifference e manifested was a sore wound I his vanity- and there were times when be hard- if she fell into the trap laid fer her. I muttered, as he passed down the me, lady will alter a little. Unless I am gusfiaken, she wen’t hold her head. . qui,‘ so 1 .’ ' timy Irva’s decision—40 which she had you ' by evory argument in her power—4w1th a profusion of con atulations that wearied far they p eased the recipient. . I, I , I ,- , ‘ One would almost think. it was you that was , going to be married," she said, in an imitated " .tonethat Mrs. Haverstraw had never ‘ jdfront r " I 13 seems, “ " ciginion' that there is nothim: I a elseflleft for me to ; and. that. is all Ihayo to , her before. to, be the general “ I almost wish .it was. so. about it.” t in“ f}, > a], be are were ew D .s ‘ Irva and Mrs. Havggstraw, bgt g seisibl ionshlp with her own sex, that it, Waszwi h grefu tobe the'companion of her vo‘ , , J '- “You will have to have a maid, gag” A said that lady; “and I knew just suit _,you.” Irva had II';-. *« she had ever seen before. There was something in of Ellen the girl that attended to; that had always interested .- that she did not intend terremaiu Haverstraw, for she toldher so. ’ With. . _, I see if she wo dn’t like togo with me.” I ,. freferringto do this when they were by that solves, Irva waitedruntilthe . girl was .fidying harroom thfiflflowmg morn ' ' “ u u; ’ 3‘? to tell wor 'r an an) o: tMng—nglmlétmng an fulfil ’7 of to anyone.” ‘,"That I _, “ Well, I’m ing to be manu'od.” T The. girl 100 ed startled at. this on semef: married, we are going a vovage to Europe; a? ', well to have on.” . . These words seemed. to have a strange upon Ellen. ‘ “ Beggin’ 80 tritiumr as, my man that comes here to see you some?” I f ,. “But it is. . Only on mustbecareful and not are op sod to it; so he quiet fgro the present.” a travelin suit; anythinfilglnse ’ ‘ g Irva submitted passively to the embrace that ‘ ' Then she disengaged herself, mOVing little was the exultation that filled Stephan’s ' his efforts, was min led a dissatisfactiou’that \ V, to _ ly knew w other he loved or hated her most. V :l‘h’ere was a curious mixture of both in his mgs, that augured ill for theunsuspecting girl N ' “When I‘get matters.th ray-own hands”; he » } fly. " 3 rs. Haverstraw received the more than mi I did 7‘ ~ she feel her complete isolation tonsil, 091111389 ' ‘ ,feelin or disappointment thatsh'e received her» of one thatagfvilf‘ '- herown thoughts as to more-«'5 « she had a perfect horror of going would not see a single face of her cum sex? ,7, the stainless... er roam, -. W k ‘, . “ I would much rather haveher thanks ger,” she thou ht.’ “ I mean to sound, her; i you to be 95,1 honest. mast- ': want youtosp‘eak/ , won’t, ma’am, that you sure _ ab ‘ t inf) .. nounoement, rather more” so the» i , w n r ' ‘ I vi. ; .. regime toagood man, I hope, miss?” *3" A “ Yes; that is, I thinkso. As soon-as we. - v I don’t know of any one that I would like . as ‘ ourpardonforbein’sofree ' ' ‘ but it can’t )he him you’re goin’ to marry, thy: » mepf Mr._Sd_lIy’-sfriendl ' Is tojakeer it “But he can’t marry ye—the. Black-hcarts-GI vill’in!'to be decaviu’ a youn ; inuOoent crayag , ture likeyel Oh! (MISS lrva. rlin’. don’t trust: v5 .0 rs, u ‘ N” t‘tm,£iRBARA>srSECRET,» T + m... t my. 3,; to...“ a”: ’ him! An’ don’t let on that I told ye—leastwaivs, « not till I git out of the house. If it wasn’t 'm' r, ‘r ’ me month 3 wages, I wouldn’t be here now. Bad a v‘ luck to the day I come into it 2” . : . “What do you mean, Ellen? Can’t marry %‘ ~ , moi—why can’t he?” , r f “ Because he’s got a wife already, an’ ’twould ; be rank‘ bigg‘ermg! Be on ht to be beaten within an inc of is life fur hinkin’ of it 1” 5 The astonishment in Irva’s face gave place to ' a halt of incredulity. ~ . I “You must be mistaken, Ellen !—it can’tbe pg; - ‘ . possiblel No man could beso cruel as to wrong and deceive 'me thus.” , “Ah! Miss Irva dear, it’s little ye know of the world, an’ the bad men that’s in it. lety of ’em would think no more of doin’ that same ~ ' . ; than of aitin’ their supper; the famishin’ tiger ' , would show ye more mercy than thiml It’s not men but bastes th are l’ " “hut, Ellen, Mr. ully is the cousin of Mrs. Sutton. the lady that brought me up. She never said anything about his bein married.” : “I know who ye mane s e who come with the poor ould b ind leddy. I overheard ’em , ‘ gether,‘ an’ it’s my belafe he’s not her ' , cousin at all, at all! It’s not I that thinks an too well of her, nor of the misthree either, wit all her smooth ways. Mighty thick, thim two , wur, as I minded at the time; an‘ if they didn’t v up the plot atween ’em, they had a hand ' "‘ You might be mistaken. Perhaps it’s some other man of the same name that is married, . and not he?” 7 ' ~ :" I couldn’t be mistaken: His wife lives in a . ‘ line, illegant house in New York. Me own cou. sin worked fur her, an’ that’s how I ha pened tokn? . I knew his two wicked eyes t e first time “ntlemen like verm it, for fine, grand ' him don otice the likes 0 us. seen him 30- ~ . in’u the steps many’s the time, when I was " clan ‘ in the any with Katy.” “Ellen, this is dreadful !--it is more dreadful than I can «ingress! I must go; I must not stay '- hare another car!” ‘ ' len looked e‘pitiilully at the pale, scared face tha Was t toward her. . “Don’t frightened, Miss Irva, dear; the . ' Lord Binds His angels to purtect thim that s in- , accent an’ helplessas e. He don’t forgit us, even whin we forgit m, blissid be His holy V mmlg’si 1 faith, im 1 seed - v ,me sos pyexpre ,gave ‘anotliier areal. calmer icurrzxfit ttg Eva’s thfilightg ; -'slipp r, nto a a ,roug an " her head upon it, while her heart ascen u voiceless prayer. “But e ctsusto dothebestwecan for " o‘ursei all e same,” continued Ellen: “an’ use the He’s given us. Ye’ll need to have ., all ye; wits about .ye in’ d’alin’ with the likes of ‘7 ' ' “Do on real]. believe Mrs. Haverstraw to a woman, lien?” “ She ain’t a good woman, by no manner of wanes, miss. If she' was, she wouldn’tbe afther ecavin’ a young, innocent girl, that hain‘t no 'father' , or brother to befri’nd or urtect her. It’s 9 ‘xu. h she b(1:95»:th thatthegill’inain’t what ‘ to l ' . shuddered. ‘ , ‘fI never liked hen-I tried to, but sdinehow I ' 1' couldn‘t—hut I never dreamed of this!” I "Take 111 advice, Miss Irva, dear, an’ don’t ' say nothin’ {o aither of ’em. Don’t let ’61:: have the lasts suspicion that ou’ve found ’emput. You watch or chance w on they ain’t noticin’, an’ jist w on an’ don’t come back ag’m. There ain’t any ouse very nigh this. It sets back a good ways from the road, and has at a » high fence all around it. I can see, b the ook ' in your eye, that aid like to till he vill’in what a t ink of im; but don’t do it here, 3 where e haseverythin’ his own way. I’ve seen I. him look at ye, whin he didn’t think nobody . was mindin’ im, an’, he won’t give ye up ’asy. ‘ ‘80 mind what I till ye, Miss Irva, an’ jist give ' , thin: the slip. “ There’s the ould harridan’s fut on the stairs; if she finds me here, she’ll sus ct somethin’l” ' 15nd away darted Ellen; .eaving Irva in a . state of mind not easily imagined. I Shesz not have to feign a' headache, to ex- ' cum her a _ so at lunch; when noon came, ,. " soar temples throbbed almost to bursting. ‘ x As she expected, Mrs. Haverstraw came to the door to see how she was; but on Irva’s -‘ mng that ahcwas trying to sleep, she went ' I own . . . - . Inithe coursed! the afternoon, Ellen managed ~. :to‘smuggle lfin. _ . , ~ 3f , n be downhem'ted. Miss Irva. darlin’.” ned the door fur him' though he ne-‘ ‘ have such a happ future before you.’ , strength ye can muster. ' got the house to oursilves.” she whispered: "I hain’t fu ,tten 9. ‘I’ve a ‘ waterproof,’ with a .big ood it, the 1 cover ye complately from head to fut, an’ I’ll goniz'iye to smuggle it in to ye as soon as it is ar . . .i As Irva did not come down to dinner, Mrs. Haverstraw insisted on coming in. 1 She brought a dish of tea. 1 I“ It’s a good strong on my dear,” she said, as she set it down; “and don’t know of an - thin that’s better for the headache, especial y for t ose not used to drinking it. “How are you feeling? Better, I hope? Ste- hen will be here this evening, and will be so ‘ 'sappointed in not seeing you. In spite of all her efforts, Irva shrunk away from the fingers that touched her temples. “He’ll have to be disappointed, then; for I shall not see him to-ni ht. . Mrs. Haverstraw 100 d at the flushed cheeks and heavy eyes. / I - “ You are looking‘ feverish. I hope 1you are not going to be sic , at this time o a times. I wouldn’t have it happen on any account.” ‘ There was a genuine expression of alarm in the speaker’s face, as she put her finger on the fluttering plulse. , Irva w1t drew her hand; throwing it up over the illow on which her head lay. “ ou seem to take a great deal of interest in me, Mrs. Haverstraw?” ‘ I do, indeed: almost as much as if you were my own daughter.” . .‘ Did gen ever have a da hter?” Mrs. averstraw was evi ently unprepared for this; there wasa sudden change in the voice and face. _ “ Yes, one' but she died when a baby.” “It would be well for some other daughters if they had died too!” A look of sullen gloom settled upon the coarse, heavy features. “I don’t doubt but what it was well for mine. £27: o’ften wished I had died when I was a l ere she forced a laugh. ' “But this has nothing to do with you, who As Irva look into the face of the 1slpeaker the appeal that was quivering upon her ps died here. “ Can I do hing for out” “Nothing. a1X13 I need ls sleep; 'and I wish you ’yvould see that I am not disturbed by any one. “I will. Lie in the morning as long as you like. You can have breakfast at any hour you want it.” Irva drew a long sigh of relief as the door closed after her; she knew that she would not be intruded upon again. “ You will not find me here in the morning,” she thought. As she lay there, watching the shades of twi- light deepen around her, e heard Stephen’s no at the door. “ wonder if he is going to stay?” was her ins ward query. .. Them-mindful of Ellen’s promise, she softly, unbolted the door, and waited. CHAPTER XIII. a scones smear, AND wnar cm or 11‘. As Irva waited thus, Ellen opened the door cautiousl , bearing a server in her hands. ‘ “ Heres yer per,” she whispe . “Mind ye don’t Fave it b t of it; fur yell nade all the “ im two ”-—here she pointed below—“ is going out fur a walk. Thin st yer time. I’ll be ack as soon as tags! are gone. , Ellen was as as her word; returning in a few minutes, w th a big bundle under her arm. “They’re not” she cried, gleefully. “ By good luck, it s cook’s afternoon out; so we’ve “ Here we are 1” she added, unrolling the bun~ dle, which resolved itself into along, shapeless garment, as she held it up. “Sure, and it’s a mile 4500 big fur Kc, but it’s all the bother fur that. I defy ould ick, him- self, to till who you he whin e git into it.” Little as Irva felt like th, she could not help smilin as she surveyed herself in the mir- ror after E len had buttoned it around her. 9 “ I don’t think I could tell, myself ” she said, as the girl ulled the hood over or face, in- whose dark pths no part of it could be seen. “ It’s as complete a disguise as I could ask.” “ That it is. If they should chance to spy ye, they’ll think it’s me. Draw yer hands uplinto the sleeves; they’re so white an’ Durty t ey’ll I ’ > ’ ' ,‘ . betray a. Mind an’ go down throu h the . r» den, on the back ate. Whin .ye alt overgt'hee ferry—ye know w ere that is—-go to me sister’s, at twinty-four First strata, usrgstairs, an’ en» (allure for Margery Malone. e’ll give ye a s alter till ye can do bother. I’m goin’ mesilf, as soon as I see you off. I got all me wages this afternoon but two dollars; an’ the ould ha yis wilcome to that; she’ll need it before she es if she don’t mind her ways. I’d go with ye, but fur fear, if they see us together, they might suspect somethin’. Ye can’t miss the way. If ye git puzzled, ask one of the polees—ye’ll know em b the star on the brist—an’ he’ll tell ye. “ ow good-by, Miss Irva, darlin’. The Lord bless an’ purtect ye!” Irva threw her arms around the neck of the faithful, warm-hearted girl. “Godblessifizg! I amsureHewill—if it is. on] for your doses to one, but for Him, ut~ ter y alone and desolate 1” Taking Ellen’s advice, Irva passed out the back way into the garden, that covered quite an extent of ground. . She had got near the gate, which ned on. another treet, laid out, but little built u as yet, when she was startled by the sound 0 vorces, advancing toward her, and which she recognized: as Stephen’s and Mrs. Haverstraw’s. There was an arbor on onevside of the narrow Bath, and with a feeling of terror, that can be at feebl put into words, she darted into it,.4 and crouc ed dovVn into the corner. To her disma they came in, sitting down upon the rustic sea near the entrance: but their backs were toward her, and the shadows so deep ’ where Irva lay, that she was completely hidden from view. They were conversing about her, in low and. earnest tones, every word of which Was dague‘r— reot ed upon the brain of the frightened (girl, red scarcely breathe lest s e shoul be who discovered. - Stephen was the first to speak. , “Do you think she was, really, too ill to come d0wn tonight?” , ~' ' “Yes, I do. You would have said so, your. self, if you had seen her. The truth of the mat- ter is she has fairlv fretted herself sick.” I “Not very complimentary to me,” said Stew phen with a forced laugh. “ What could you expect? Youare more than twice her age, and in no way the kind of man such a girl would fancy. ou ought to he sat- isfied to gain your object any way.” ‘ “Now you are not over complimentary!” “I can’t help that!” was the sharp use. “You know, as well I do, that you are no more fit to touch the hand of such a woman—-” Here the sgaker sod. “ Do. you ow, tephen,” she resumed, in a very different tone, “ it may seem an odd thi for me to say, after all I have done and am, 13:15 I couldn’t help pit 'ng the poor child as she lay fibers; looking as ' she had been crying half the a ‘ at cursed nonsense is this, Nellie! One woul think I 'was going to murder the in stead of ‘ving her a (1 home an every luxury. on are not going back on me, after all I have done for you? “It has been pretty clear demonstrated that a Woman cannot gobs , whatever else she may do. N ’m in for it, and will go through with'it no . But I wish, on my soul, I never had anyt to do with it! Isn’t there plenty of women ya can have—God hel them l—that you should take so much troub o to insnare this poor girl, a mere child and as ' innocent ofall such deviltry as a baby l’ “There 15 no lack of women,” laughed Sta gsen, such as they are, but not many like her. ith all m experience of the sex, I never 533,1, one 0 them with so absorbing a pas- “Faughl it makes me sick to hear men of your stain talk of love! You don’t know the meanin o the word. You love ourselves. Enou pr her because she is bar toget. I ow you; you’ll tire of your pretty toy in six weeks. , r “ Upon my word, Nellie, you are in a recious queer way to-night,” sneered Stephen. ‘ You’ll be getting converted next, and leave all us poor Sinners in the lurch!” .- ' ~ “ You need have no fears of that ” was the sullen res nae; “ if a woman s on the wrong t there is no other way but for her to go straight on, if it takes her to lion!” “1 love the girl so well, at events ” said Stephen, after a moment’s pause, “ at I would marry her in bona fide earnest tonight, . if Iwerefreetodoso. Asitis, Ishallhave to _ ' so through the farce of it, just to satisfy her. ,. ‘ wording 1w, ,BLIND'BA‘RBARK’S,.§ECRET- Merrie is very much of a farce, anyway, ac- my way of thinking.” “ And who do you count .on bein so much of :a fool as to perform the ceremony’ “ A man by the name of Harvey, at least that is the name he goes by now. He is a renegade clergyman of the Church of England, who com- mitted forgery, or something of that sort, and fled over here. He can be bought for five dol- Flars to do ’most anything. . The onl trouble is i to catch him sober. I’m goingto ock him in his room tomorrow afternoon, bringi g him round in the evening. So don’t fail to et the girl know, so as to be ready.” “You had better caution your man. not to make a mess of it. Irva is simple about some things, but she’s no fool, and if she has the least su icion, she’ll unravel the whole thing.” Mrs. averstraw arose as she said this, and took the path that led to the house. “Never on fear,” said Stephen as he follow- ed her; “ he fellow iswell post , and will do the thing up ship-shape.” Irva waited until is air voices died in the dis- tance, before she dared emerge from her place «of concealment. She‘ hurried down to the to, only to find it acclied, it being new past t ehour for it to be e open; 0 scale the fence there would be Whig as it was not onl high but of w , whose . smooth surface a orded no foothold; but Irva remembered that the wall on the front side was of mu stone, and which would present no such d" culty. - A True, it would be more hazardous as to being rseen but then it would be equally so to linger unt' her once ‘was discovered. Taking a circuitous route, as far from the ‘ goose as‘possible, Irva went around to the front , what, under ord do. Though there was no moon, it was starlight, and finding herself near the main gateway, which was always locked, at this hour, lrva looked cautiously around before attempting circumstances, she woul have consir‘ red it u terly impossible to do. The h could be seen from that pOint, being on rising ground. Not a movement could be seen around it, and no light within, except in Mrs. Haterstraw’sroom. It thl‘di‘lnmifihm nregeOt “it: even , an ' ' cou commenced the difficult tag: before her. , - After repeated failures, she found herself on the groun on the other side of the wall; though It was only through a strength born of desperer tiou, as her torn and bleeding hawk testified. Perfectlyexhausted, she sat down by the t the l d down the e as re, coking an road, toseewhichdirecticn 3?; had beet take, she saws. man on the otherside of theway (30min toward her. ~ to avoid the man’s notice. _ signal: so much terror to Irva’s soul that for a riot space she where our shefleddowu the an posits directing). hm” °p‘ Wit a sudden movement she drew hack into 'the‘ shadow of the wall, but not quickly enough “ Hallo!” who is that?" The sound of that voice was deprived of all war of motion. Then elvingt athewascr overto The road was (i rough and uneven' still fleet of‘fiotahe mi ’ being V t have con- trived to~ ode her pursuer, had not been for firshgngas ing 1: initllwspcedhich “wtum a heavily to t5: ground. ' ~ ' CHAPTER V. our IN m wmm om. Warm Irva awoke to consciousness, she found 'herself lying upon a bed, in the some room she . LI 1 I ‘_ r y . had quitted as she had hoped forever, scarce] two hours ore. As slowly it all came bac ‘50 her' her attempt, its failure, and all it por- tend , a feeling amounting to despair came over her. ’ She had sup herself quite alone, but at the sound of t e moan wrung from her lips, a Orm arose from an obscure corner of the room, and advanced toward her. As Irvasaw whoitwas, she arose to a sitting ture; indignation sending the blood tingling iPeSltephen Salli“ hat brings" me, into w on my chamber?” ’ r y . mama! ' male: Irva, ygmare not oofooh hug“ you When on" y ‘ P d see Irva was silent. Should. dent? ' him all she knew. and defy do $339033 .1 . . . " v" » '.,f'.a"-,- ‘ i were so. It’s a lie, whoewr to! Mistaking this silence, Stephen continued: “ What madness ygu to go out mas- ?erading this time of night, in such attire as t at? Followin the motion of Stephen’s hand Irva’s, eyes reste upon Ellen’s torn and drabbled wa. terproof, that was lyin upon a chair. ‘ I went because I d not wish to make this place my home any longer. All that I askis my liberty. I am not willing to remain here another night i” . “Why, what has come over my darling? Want to leave me, and on the very eve of our marriage?” Those words, the tone in which they were oken, were more than Irva could endure. $16 flung oi! the hand” he laid u on hers. “ Wretch! how dare you s of marriageto moi—you, who are dy married l” Stephen mistrusted that Irva had heard, or gspected something, but he was unprepared for is “Who has been telling you such ridiculous nonsense as this?” “ I heard it from ‘your own lips!” The astonishmeu in the eyes that surveyed the speaker, certainl , was not feigned. “ I would not be ly to tell on, even if it you! I call God to witness that I have no wife, nor will I have any but you I” “ Stephenfiully, God is your witness—and so am I! t is useless for youto attem t todeeeive me lo ; I was secreted in the ar , this eve- ing when you and Mrs. Haverstraw came in, and heard every word that was uttered!” There was a silence of some moments; during which the consternation that ove read Ste- gl‘ien’s face gradually changed to a ook of de- uce. Wit g his dismay and chagrin at being detected, was mingled a feeling relief athe- ing able to throw off, in some degree, the mask he had worn. “ Then you know something of what a man will risk to gain possession of the woman he loves. I am not goi to take back a word I have spoken; True re isa woman that the law 8135303 my wif but itis a title that my heart was, and never give her. ~ To me marriage' 'is something more than the mutterings of priest or magistrate; it is a consecration of the heart. It is you, onl you" that will ever reign there! I own that have deceived you; bu I plead m great love for you. Can you par- don nothing . love like mine? listen to me, Irva. She, who is nominallyemy wife, is a con- firmed invalid; Ishould not surprised tohear of her death atany time. ~The momentI am free Iwillmake youmywifebeforeall the world. What else canI douwhatmoro can I promise than this?” “ I would not you if you were free to- day, much less be e thin you’d make moi Ledve me. You haveno rig t to come into this room. Your very presence is an insult, and your words more nsulting still!” There was a very perceptible change in Ste- phen’s tone and manner. ' “ I have a right to be here which even you, haught astyouare, will be creed to respect—- the rig t o the strongest! What can yp‘uaa weak, any girl, with neither friends nor u- ence, 0 against me?” “ I am not so friendless or werlcss as you think. I have a Friend, for stronger than any earlt’l’ily king, who will not suffer you to hem me “Ithinkl haveheardym akof Bimbo- fore,” said Stephen, with 4: mos g smile. “ If He caresfor youso much, andisas strong as on say, why did He frustrate you in ivlilour ef- ort to,escape, andlet youfall again to my hon ' “I cannot tellyou that. Butthis Iknow, ifI hadleft thehouseas scones Iknew itwas in your I had not wickedly promised to marry a man I could notlove, I should now be beyond your war.” ‘It is tools. to thinkof that now. You are in my power. And it is a power from V which £1011 cannot escape; I have taken every precau- on as to that, as you will find. Now my pretty birdhng I vise youtobereconpiled toypur cage, and not beat our win the wires anymore. Iwish bekin ;dou’tforcemeto becruel. Alove likemineturnedtohate, you will not find a very pleasant thing to encounter. I nowileeve cu, inorder that youmay have time or shall t amnigughinaihfizmfib’ 1 timed ‘ her mantle'and hat, placing in her poo ' flattered I theirhomes;vying witheachothoriah‘ylngto, shameful fate that was hanging over her. But what could she do? Ellen was gone; supposing, doubtless, that she had made good her esca e; and there was no one else in the house with he least disposition to befriend her. ' There was no possible way of escape but by ' the windows, and these were so far from the ground as to make it extremely hazardous for ‘ her to make the attempt. Softly raising one of them, she looked out. As she did so, her eye ca ‘ ned roof of a small wm that jutted out from the main building, direct y beneath her. If she could get down nipon that she might mana e to reach the can . Fu of the ener orn of this hope, she went to work. Taking t e sheets, blankets and coun- te one of her bed, she cut them into strips, thsting them into a strong. rope of sufficient len h, as she hoped, to reach the roof. astening one end of this to the bed, she tied a spool to the other, an wrapping several thicknesses of cloth around it, in order ',« - to deaden the sound threwi out the window, . having the satisfaction of ‘ it land upon r the roof below. _ ‘~ V . x As soon as Irva made sure ofjthis, she on what money she had, which was only some small change. Then kneeling down by the o n window she raised her hands to the heavens, Whose tranquil beauty fell like a benison upon her‘ troubled spirit. I “ Father?" she cried, “ thou all that awaits me here. By the pun thou hast on. joined upon all thy children I h Thee to fim’l—andif I go notto 'berty,let it, be to “ Well, do you think the Lord is 1acting lab help you?” asked a harsh voice back of Turning, Irva saw Mrs. Haverstraw inthemi dleof thefloor, with aderidwi upon her face. * For a moment Irva’s heart failed her, than sudden ht broke from her eyes. “ Yes; think He has sent me help new.” “ What help, pray?” ,' M Yul!” “What canmove mo tohelp you!” , ' ‘, “Thememory of the babethat slumberedon your bosom, and died in your arms!” ' It was evident that Irva had fwud the one vulnerable spot in that hard heart; half m— ~ V' ed, half ' at her weakness, she stood, ' But it soon returned with‘redoubled force, ’ ‘ bringing with it the thought of the-cruel, the ht the gleam of the tin- , of her. ‘ ' V. tlingsilen ywiththetenderandsacredmanoo. ries evoked b these words. ‘ v ‘ “Had she 'ved, she would have been 3M about my age; would you be w to havoher given over to the tender mercies hen Sully?" ‘ would. strangle her first,” was‘ we fierce retort. ‘ ‘ “But that proves nothing,” fie added, in a ‘ differenttone. “Ifyouwereoutofheno‘what would you do? You'haveno frienck, no ' no money. You ’t work; yo u are not ' . to it. And if you could, andcouldfind it to do, he would pursue you—blacker: turn you from one place and had hunted you down! I know them all i” “lwillriskit. AllIaskismy will help‘me to ifil know?” “ I dare not. out-name» untilhe him- ebony. You matters not how, but im‘ in this man? power. If he finds‘it out, it will, be mBy ruin. . “ at he need never know that you have any knowled of it. He Will see thisropeandnever think of ing you.” -' » Advancing to the window, the woman took h‘ldd’éi‘ao h ld cheap; I ., youo yourlifeso .,our purity so dear, that you dare trust y ‘ to a thing like this? in a hundred of “with is thousand, I will ‘ are 0 one in a » take it sooner thahlz-emain. All that 1, Of you is not to hinder me.” “ But I will hinder you! Listen to me. You! ago, when I was as young and innocent as ' r p a man sought me With fine promisesandfla ing words. My home waswretchedaad lees,andhedid not find it hardtolmmofrom it. Well,.itisthe old storyloldes thehillsziin’. “ afew monthsheturnedmeout tostarvefiahd my -myhabyandhisl Ithinh went wild, wh denying its. , , he ‘ tauntedmewith hehadmad‘emei , was and ; mothers invited him to l amenlike. ’Ilmeiwr~ There is not one chance ] your reaching is -r. a "1 life orlimb. r ’ i ;x1r«‘;', - win him“ for their pure young daughters—while 1 I was kicked down, down! I loved my baby; when it died, all human sympathy for my kind died with it. At least, I thouvht so. To-night I dreamed of her. I dreamed that she lay in my arms, more fair and sweet than she even was in life; the pressure of her head upon my bo- som arousing feelings that I never thought would be mine again! ’ . Sinking down upon a seat, the speaker bowed ‘her head upon her hands, rocking herself back- ’ ward and forward some mements without speaking. ' . ‘ _ Then rising, she dashed the tears, half-angrily, from her a es. , “ Comelf she said, turning to the door' “ come quickly, lest I change my resolution. o—mor— r0w I shall scorn myself for this.”» - With a beating heart, scarce] daring to trust herself 'to speak, Irva f0 lowed Mrs. Haverstraw down-stairs, out into the o 11 air, and along the‘graveled path that led to t e main entrance. " Unlocking the gate, she threw it Open. I “Now you are free. I do this for the sake of'myha y—the’baby I shall never see again, never!” “ I x ‘ Irva’s e as were full of tears. ‘ ‘ “Ohlp . Haverstraw, don’t say that! ‘ If ‘you‘wfll onl live a pure, good life, ,you surely nd r—some’ day 1” / will Haverstraw’s only response to this Was ’ to push Iookinéit V . hitching of oy’ and thankfu‘lness swelled _ .Isiva’s hear , as s e' once more found herself out- side those high walls. Whatever else was in stander her, she was free from the deadly peril ‘ that hid’menaced her. ' ' ‘ ’ The. world was allbefore her; she never . ‘l‘thow grealtl unctlfl she lc’gflz’ed arounid as? ou ow. an insi ni cantapprt on o itéhg'was; 13"“ r. : -- g - g , - The moon hednowrisen, making everything smut clear as day. _ i “ Am in the road brought the house she had just! uitte into full yiew. ' ‘ fl ' " g . Ah “d hell hack she‘cOuld'see not only the 0 on windows of her i'oom'but-the cord susipend- e5 it, and “Which show/ed very p ainly against the dark wood—work. . - , ,, She could not but shudder, as she saw~how far from the ground it was», and how small the ' ‘ gWas of her reaching it without loss of j . numdi’ chfiaftgr midn‘iight, she an ape, re gt em to lens-ar- ’ e not ' V t whére she could take a caryfor’the ferry. ' newere‘few‘ seen 'rscn bar'orboat,and I it hightened the on'ely eeling that he an to ne’enteri the’ladi‘e’s’ ea in she .. a I, speculates-imam as = i-flAaset her companions were men, which, in- ‘ , secl her uncomfortable feeling. ' ' " eztookzawi’ufifie'look around; * , f In the o posits corner was a man, whose gen- u .. ma involuntary fe‘ell' of confidence in j', nowka at Irva,'as she entered. With even . ' . more widths ordinary interest one might take dnfieintagyeung’gir out alone at‘solate an M hour. Something algnost like reco tion came , "intdihis eyes: then, as if convince of his ' he settled himself back in his seat a in. _ ' mmostiuimedimly, two men came :1 and took seats near Irva; very flashin dressed, and ' lfthe'y had‘been drinkin' . ~ ' » {3.1 “seeing’h‘va they winked at each at er, and . then began to take .. r, attention. Net/succeeding in their endeavors, one of every possible way to at- ‘ them said; > ' ‘Q‘Aitemtare y'ou’quite alone, miss?” ' “ Irva’s only notice of this was to take a seat " ' the other side: ‘ ' . V‘ pen which: the man nudged his companion, ' - " . W'hursting intoa laugh. was not unoliserved by the man in one ' , Corner who was watching them: into whose » inyes‘there came an ominous flash, but“ who shade no other demonstrationé g , ‘ Poor Irva had now a‘ new trouble and per- ;filcxity. address given her by Ellen, and r ‘r , . hichwas her onlyretuge, had entirely escaped hermeinory, was in vain that she strove'to wall it, remember neither street nor " ' espouse Irva hurried out; anx- , .Mtouwia e her through the gate, quickly closing and,- I Will take ‘ ’.world‘l” .'ng "and frank, “honest face, in-’ f‘ We are goigfg the same way, pretty one, and , W111 take care you.” ' | Irva uttered a scream as the fellow tried to { draw her arm within his. A moment later, a well-directed blow sent g him. sprawling into the gutter, while his com- 3 pamon took to his heels. I Leaving him to the mercies of the oflicer, who I now came hurrym to the scene, his assailant 5 turned to Irva, w 0 had sunk down upon the , curbstone. “ I trust you are not hurt, madame?” he said, E with a courteous lifting of the hat. I Irva arose, with some difllculty, to her feet. I 'l he stranger looked into the pale face, turned ‘ s )‘agpealinglfy t6ward him I on’tbe ri h toned. ' The cowardly ruflians . have met with tgheir just deserts and you are quite safe. As it is late for a ady to be out, unattended, allow me to be your escort. What car or stage do you take?” This was-not only a puzzling, but embarrass- ing uestion to Irva. ' ‘ “ don’t know. I have forgotten—” ' The stranger waited fer her to finish her son- tence and then said: ' ‘ “ Whatpart of thexcl do you‘wish to go to?” “God help.mel—-I don t know that, either!” ' The man cast a sharp, in ' ‘ng look upon the speaker’s face, whose sunp city and innocence rebuked his momentarysuspicion. “ If you will tell me where your you to them.” mendslwnot one in all the had been added to Irva’s now became ’unendur’able. t,“ I”'have' hurt my ((2on can go“ no fur- her; " ‘ - The stranger glanced at‘theifia'ce, that Was, gIBWing momentaril paler. ' v , " Good Heavenl w at a-bruteI aml' Sit down upon this step, and I will get avcarriage.” ‘ Dartingiaway "to the next corner, he returned, saying. ‘ v‘ I ave sent forfio‘ne'; it Will be here shortly.” Irvals nerves new began to feel the effects of the strain'to - which they had been subjected dmrin ' theiast twenty-four hours” added to-this was t "espain of her ‘ hnkle, and which nearly drove-her wil ' ‘ ’ ’ ‘I He found‘hére'sobbin friends are, d “I have no Physical suffer-in mental distress, an abandonment ,of grief that went stra ht tohis‘ enerous heart; i It was a' uliarity o Richer ' Harringtoan that he never endureto sees woman cry. He could bear any amount of hard words and hard knocks, but tears especially from such a’ source to use floored: him. ” , in the world. litifle. . , , went to thecorner otthestrestto see if he could discover anything of the “I think I have a better plan than that,” 6 said, on return. i “I on rooms and board for a lady who is ' net ly to; want , them. -I went to the depot for-her this evening, that duly to find t l or :a. terrible ' debt. The house is very quiet, and kept by a nice old bod , one of my mother’s family servants. It V much pleasanter for you there than at a hotel.” ' “it will, indeed,” wa‘e'thé grateful response. The carriage ‘had‘now'an'ived. ' ' ‘ Irva made an unsuccessful eflort to rise to her feet, the very attempt topnt her injured toot tosthe pavement extracting a moan. ' “Don’t try to walk; 'let me carry you!” , And before Irva could remomtratefif she had felt inclined to do so, .those strong arms had . borne her to the carrmge, almost, it seemed, acci withoht'an odort. , ‘ 1 Richard had the instincts of’a true ntle he fill; tlgg fluttering cg her he??? an hsaw uic l , edisengage \ _jerse _ is gld asysoon as he made that ejwas com—1‘ “15 ‘men ‘who‘ she saww a bent ‘fortahl‘ placed,‘ ' a‘sesit‘lu‘an'epposite 1 ‘ @fino’j‘rihgher theég’ushsheunet tfig touting; - j _ 7. _ V g u p . »‘ lass dhjee elier stays. -“ " l ‘“ Well, this is aheadveuturef” inwardi - I. send lose sight of 1191‘, the ' o 'refiection, asthe~¢atrfagedrqve ; “Irony on behind; (atoning ug with er one‘else had been gull? ofsucha 'oticact, she Mover into Fulton ‘ ‘ ‘. , lshould'have sethim flowntora V onkevl But ,1, ’ 9. \ 7'} (L; I, H . ' ” . ‘ . a his oWn words, f‘vcompletely { ’ fished the‘tenderest', as well as hraVest heart ' " Doh’tl don’t! I beg ofsyou,” he cried. w“ "You I - really distress me! 'You say you hayeno fri ‘ds; , two was one o: the victims - With all right. What a sweet face she lies! I’ll , ‘ stake my life on her purity and oodness.” Then his thoughts reverted another, and A not quite so pleasant. ch a‘nnel. , r Hannah had one of the" kindest of hearts, if it was awroached from the rightfiirection; but. . she ha some old-fashioned notions. And the longer be reflected on' it, themore dubious he became of her willingglessto take into her house a strange lady, of w ose very name he was ig- norant! ‘ He must ascertain that at all events. “ I have told you m name,” he said aloud: “ and now you ought to et me know yours?” It was some moments before Irva replied. “ My Christian name is Irva; there is no other to which I have any right. The one I have 8.1- va 5 home, I do not dare to bear any longer.” ichard was more perplexed, as well as mys— tified than ever. Then alsudden thoughtstruck » 1m. “Suppose we allow the woman to think you are the lady she was expecting, gist for tonight? Her name was .Lane. Mine is arrington. Do yo‘uStfhink you can remember?” es. ’ _ The voice was so faint that Richard looked anxiously at the speaker. The light from a street lamp streamed in upon her, revealing closed eyes and a face deadly white. Calligg to moment to drive tastier, he lifted the he until it rested against his shoulder, ‘chaflng the little cold hands. , In its of his alarm a thrill of pleasure stir- red Richard’s heart as he felt the pressure of the unconscious form, whose ,‘very helplessness ap— " peeled to all that was manly in his nature. Far ' rom wronging her, even in thought, he felt that he could die in her defense. ~ As soon as the carriage step (1, he jumped out and-running up the steps 0 the houseit was in rout of, rang the bell furiously. ’ 7A nighmpped head, made, its“ from one of the tiger windows. , “Is that on, Richard?”_ “ Yes. ‘ ome down, quickl”, As soon as the woman couldslip on a dress, aspeme the fins at theadooil‘;d 81 y W " “ was so, e, ven u‘ expectin, on. “ There has been a. terri lg) "dent Dora the road, Hannah; 9. great . k' edfind wound- eg. I hope‘the‘y un lad ‘3‘ roomisready ' as g 'e ' in, a condition need savory care and at— entlon. . Without waitin to, ‘exclama .tionsfof'astonishzgent an horror, re— to the carriage, an taking out he‘limp, unconscious form carried it upthe steps. ’ ' ‘ "‘ erciful goodness] is she dead?” exclaimed Hannah, as she await a glimpse'of , Irva’s face. 5" “ No; she’s hurt 1‘ foot badly, and fainted tom the 19am” aning’ his unconscious burden on the bod, let me‘he our friend: My namean 11, , Richard Thsd for a doctor,- Hannah calling: Richard arm; u, very much at our‘sgr- ‘ after a, there was one next door. ' "‘ vice. You can rust I uni an" , "ofiable‘ -‘ Luckilytheuoctorwas at horns, and after see- ‘ ‘ man. tell me what can’do for you.” a ing him go u stairs to‘hilfépiatien , Richard wait» With a strong effort, Irva hex-gobs, ‘: ed in the hal, ratherim ‘ _ .eutly it musthecor—— ‘ “Thank 'v on,” she said‘ with a faint smile: * fer “W1? [an hour before he “you'a’re cry/good. ‘Afi {gashis to be con- camedowng Q , “ r 1, 4 . , ,_ veyed to Ihotel. It mils; betoalow-price‘d £19m smued‘, he saBVaSRichjard’aanmlogs onebecause‘ ave—Very ‘ onions. ‘ ' 13301133. , 8- 111156.011 r Irva’s voice faltered, as she rememgered how and her ankle swollen. I have reduced the latter. and .‘venrlier a. sedative. She will both and; morning”? _ ‘ ’ now‘x’nade her up I " oe. r ' t “ You had better Stop here tonight, Mr. Richard. Now, put down that hat; yOu’re not in’ outat- this late hour, while Hannah Prouty asarooman’bedtoofl’eryel”" ‘ " The tone in “which this/was spoken reminded Richard so much of his that he~could not help smiling as he to owed the good wo— man up—stairs into a room, in.whose neat and pleasant aspect evidentl she took no little pix-ids, very thinly vailed an air of depreca- . O v n. - “ ’Tain’t What you‘re accustomed to, I know; but I hope you’ll manage to make yoursolf com- fortable.” ‘ ~ V , ‘ “ I know‘ it isnlt,” said Richard, with, a roguish tWinkle o; the eye. ‘f I’ve sle 1; most of the time, durin the past 51x mom s, in the fiddle oron the ground; but I’ll try to get ,_2:1sm use, night,”'he added, with'a lau h. supposo I'll nge to _ nse with those. uxuriesnowi How dyouleavethe‘young'ladgxl” ‘ V. _ ‘ , . :‘Asleepa 120:5? you ~she looks young '6‘ term v . _ . , .. _. . , r i W‘I'gven’tthoughtmgg: about mosaidmhh, 5 , l‘gthfll‘. “sly, m .7 ii thfifihfi was getting. ‘ ‘ ‘ u . ‘ l, . ‘ .r ‘ a, * up'ghen. not caring to'pursue conversatiou,’ totuck ineinan‘dki. ,me good- ; - ‘ “a r so (I. v * J 2“}: L13,1;in4purchase.f5’sEcRnir. 'lfig-olgd aside his coat, and began to draw on his ' Upon which Hannah vanished with a celerity that provoked a smile from, Richard, wh ‘ well acquainted with her peculiarities. - 'f Asltired as he was, his mind was too excited or s eep. . v . i; I think I'll try a sedative,” he said to him- so And lightin a cigar, he sat for half an hour or more, watc ing the blue smoke curl over his cad, and thinking of his strange, and by no eans unpleasant adventure. How singular it was that one so formed to at- tract and ease should he, apparently, so alone and frien ess! _ _ “I have it i” he suddenly exclaimed, bring— mg his hand down suddenly upon his knee. ‘. I ' know,now, where ,I saw her; in that church in Brooklyn, the Sunday I visited George!” How vividly that scene rose up before him! That dim old church, the crowd of worshipers; and among them the fair, sweet face that had haunted him ever since—haunted him like some- thing seen in his dreams, he could not remember how, nor where. ' , , And now she was here, under the same roof, gliaroyvn so strangely upon his care and protec~ on “And I will protect her!” he cried, flinging away the stump of his cigar. .“She is a. cod, [ Bare-hearted girl whoever she is; and I w: be ’ or friend until she gets a'better.” ' - CHAPTER XV. _ , A NEW NAME AND PATH. Wm Irva awoke the next morning, it was nearly noon. r ' As she looked about on her new surroundings, , , it was some tine before she could think where V shewas, or what had happened. . She stared so wildl into the face of Hannah as she addressed her. her new name, that had it not been for the He that follow the good would have feared that her rain was ac . . Irva’s 131’s feltniorteogncllagtig and 1:13: heiad my; e was 0 dnn e n on ' basin pagbroth that 3was eld to her ll _, and laying her head back upon the pillow, e so her $3.88 again, , . Hannah’s kind, motherly heart had been won bz‘ first glimpse she had obtained .of the 3 “35 face,.lying there so white that it almost , Seemed like death. * . he waalhat realhlessing to infirm/humanity 118. Smoothin the rumpled counterpane, she moved softly a tthe room, reducing to order. eve disorderly elean in Its her very presence di ing a soothin influ- once .d. And before Irya knew it, e was int eland‘of dreams. , ,, < - d didnot awake untilitwasgmw- . , he thonghtu" rmostinhermind was-that she was very This” was almoSt 1mm __ diately followed 'by-»the aWnce of Hannah bearing a tray whose covered dishes gave forth lave grateful odor. _ 4 , “ magnify, are ye?” she said, with a beaming smile. in always glad to hear that of them Ihave the care of; for it shows they’re ettin’ better. «,I’ve ye a bit of broiled chicken, ._=: , b ‘ areast potatorgg’gsome toast, an‘ I don’t want 549 to leave one mite on’t.” , , ghtmg the gas, Eannah placed the tray on' ‘ - l the small round table by the bed: and then sent ing herselfat a distance viewed Irva’s evi- dent a reciation of her culinary skill with a 819119. self-complacency and approval. vexigiog’g: donelvery wellghsgsaiddas she sur- - , near yemp . an speakin yer much in the tone go we use to a child? 5 wigs? “h” i I “‘1‘ ’t’ae‘i‘ii‘mimfi“ o , an _, me he you was gittin’ better.” you ' ‘ Say that I am quite comfortable, and very. ve- to himl” v » annah was a little puzzled at the warmth of the concluding sentence. 4 , _ - “ He hain’t done nothin’ more’n what ’twai ~ 1 his duty to do ” she said, as she turned to the ( ~ 'estbitot trou’ “oh on door; “but rfi tell him, all the same.” , Hannah gave Richard 5. minute and very charactexistic account of her patient, tovwhic heullsteped very attentively. \ “I’m‘gzd you feel so kindly toward her; she 18 fin 01'p n, with no home or friends.” ' , These. couldn’t ~ nobody help bein’ kind to her, :1. should sayl” was thedlmost—i‘hdi ant re. “Why, she’s‘the ratefulest ll 6 body ' WP? en’ snail-9i of} makin’ the least- To think of her sendinl any roadside!” owaS' not the mo . laoad ,, , g » perish by the A!“ M have, eft her to. , When Hannah knocked at Irva’s door, the next morning, she found her up and dressed, to her manifest satisfaction. \ “ I’m right glad to see on lookin’ so much better, though you don’t 100 any too well now. I had my breakfast more’n an hour ago, an’ you can have yours here, or down-stairs. Irva preferred the latter; following her host- ess down" into a cheerful little room, half din- ing-room and half sitting-room. A canary was singing in a ca inthe win- dow, and a sleek black cat purring on the sill beneath. ' “ Here you see my whole family.” said Han- nah; “ Master Dick and Master Jack.” As Irva stood listenin to Jacky’s song, and strokin the ,velvety bac ’ of his four- ooted friend, or thpughts reverted to Barby, and her constant companions, Ti’ and Johnn . What would she not give to know ow it was with that old and faithful friend! ‘ _ As Hannah began to lay the cloth for her breakfast, Irva noticed the small size of the ta- ble and its appointments, which could not have seated‘comfortably more than four. “ I thou ht you kept boarders?” “,No on y lodgers. I like them a deal better. They a have business outside; goin awa in the mornin’ an’ not comin’ back till n ht. o, " I told Mr. Richard I’d take you, the s ort time you was 'goin’ to stay in the city, but I would- n’t,meke a practice on’t for no money. Not that I’d mind it so much if they was all as nice an’ quiet as you be. But the ma ori on ’em ain’t not by no manner of means. ' ha enough Of that sort of thin when my poor dead—and- one husband was ’1 ve. When a bod has got my a. , and worked hard all ther ife, they want a l ttle rest an’ quiet.” . Hannah paused a moment, but onlyto take i breath. o H .Xour'breakfast‘willbemady in five minutes. I (11 n’t make the codes, because'l wanted it to be-fr‘esh. Here’s the morning’s paper, with all about that dreadful accident in it. he]??? cg:- cuhthe ve ot eurnameinte o te killed. Ifildfir. fiichard that he Orter have it corrected, but ,he‘ said as how ’twas no manner at use; them pesky newspaper men was so pig- headed an’ contra’y that‘they never Would own they was mistaken ’bout anythin .‘ Very un- Ilccommodatin of ’em, to sa the east.” Irva shivere as her eye to u ' nfthe name of the illofated lady, into whose p are she had so mysteriously . What a. terrible fate for one’so youn ! e it was a question if she were fortunate of the two. ’ ' filer grave look Was not unnoticed by Han- ! “ Y’ou‘ve had a very fortunate escape. _Miss lane: , r ' ‘ f ' ? “ Ighave, indeed l” echoed Irva, who hadmore cause for titnde than Hannah sup ed.- S'While ‘e Was breakfasting, Harm Wassum- 1moned rip-stairs by the ringing of the door-bell, 'cturnlng in a few minutes. , r z As soon as Irva rose from the table,she said: “ Mr. Richard is upstairs, in the parlor, wait- in to see you.” , . I :nnahknotiggd the a 'tation that ilrvahvainl- y srove su, ue wi some surprise, t Gag ascribing it to the shook her nervoussystem had received. fi » » _ “ He ain’t in no hurry. I told him that you was at breakfast; an’ he insisted that I should- n’t tell Egu till you had finished.” j , Had a beena royal princess, Richard could not have bowed eyer the hand she extended to him with an air of more . Hp sawthe doubts and misgivings so plainl viable in her constrained manner and vary 3 color, and hastened to reassure her. Iieadin herto the sofa he wheeled an easy- chair’in renter her and sat down; a proceed- ing: that served to still her fluttering nerves and u heriflnore at ease than anything ,he could ve sa . ‘ " Irva‘remembered what he said to her on the night of their first meeting: “ You can trustme lam an honorable man; ’ and as she looked mp those honest blue eyes, she felt that he spoke Inyorder to invite her confidence, Richard told her all about himself. How helwas an orphan, whose nearest relatives were two sisters, one a. half—sister several years older than himself. v He told her about Hannah, who had Med with his mother until her marriage ;' relatim various anecdotes illustrative of her kindness of _, heart ’ and ’ commonsense displ' aym sucha fund of and, honorable feeling imself that Ware of it,- Irva was I as freely as if she had knewn himaall g or 8.. , _ ,i ‘V , > . mic “H . to g l I new. you’know-l-I want you to I ' er toe Richard sudd checked the tide of his re- miniscences. - V “ N ow, let me hear a little about you. (To commence at the beginning, how are you feel— , in ' i’ ' va’s cheeks flushed. ‘ ' “ Ver much as if I werea ship, sailing under false co ors.” I “ Ah! well: We’ll fix that all right. ” Then catching the questioning look in the shy eyes ghat were lifted to his, he added, with a law. : ' v ‘ ‘gMiss Irva—you told me that was your name, i ‘ I think—you look at me as if I was an ogre. , Now, in spite of my six feet of stature, and‘fero- . cious appearance “ generally, I do assure you ’ that I am a most harmless fellow.” “I don’t think you the least bit of an ogre,” umiled Irva. “ 0n thecontrary, I find it impos— sible to e ress my appreciation of your gener— ous and no le conduct.” Richard’s face lighted up at this sounded very sweet to him. “ Show it y trustin me’ a little.” r , Richard looked at he face, whose varying color showed the conflict that was going on. ~ . f “ Don’t think that I want to l11)er into anything , that you wishto conceal. 0 y if there is any- > ‘ thing that you Would likd to tell me, ‘I ledge ,> myself to regard it as a most sacred con, once; giving you a l the counsel and assistance in my _ wer. ~ It was some moments before Iiva spoke, and when she did. it was slowly and with hesitation. “ I have little to tell, and that little is not ‘ pleasant to speak of, or remember. I am a worse than orphan: my mother died when I was aba’by—my father I never saw. *' I Was called a ‘ by the name of the woman who bro ' tme'u ,i . but to which I have, no just claim. dare n t bear that name any longer, because I have an , enemy, a bad and cruel man, from whom I wfius}; . 4? to escape. Pray do not think me ungrate ,' - i but I cannot, dare not tell you more!” v!’ ‘ . ' “Y on need not;‘I will not ask you another , question. I said what I did, hoping that I might ' be able to servcyou” , y r‘ r “ The only way by which you can do that is, ‘ to obtain me some kind of emplo merit.” * Richard glanced from the sm hands to the lace, which, with all its delicacy otroutline, had a air of steadiness and resolution. , “Have you ever taught wily?”- ‘- " , ~ ‘lNo: but}: thinkl could, ' {the pupils were , 5:. not too fax-advanced.” » 4 r r i _' r it; ' Richard was silentyand Irv! continued: "I “If you knew of; any place, I mould bead glad. "I ‘wouldvbe content with very , [small I m V . ,. . “ ,strangerlwonld ilnd it next to f bility, without’credentials.” ; 4 ' ' Irva’s countenance fell. , v 4 . y “ The place with my ' ,‘ that Kiss Lane a ’ H r thing, wastoflll, 18 now Vacatinandw i " ust suit cu.” ,', -~ : “ “ W0 she take me without references?’ 1 ‘ _ ,_ Richard knew what a careful mother his ’ “ Could shehave an rtunlty of "- you, she would trust you am sure. you go and make a trial of it. E . h, 33:31; Seen Miss Lane, andlmows , .1 .. “amigoan he: know who‘lamhwould f . s - V . ' = “I'dozli1’§think it would be «mqu the ' ' praise, which ~’ l i" W that be circumstances. I don’t mean, of course, to con- t‘nue the supposition,th only for a few ,weeks, 2 until you have had time to win her confidence, ’ asyouwillbesuretodo. Youcanthentcllherf how it in, Or, if ou‘wOuld rather notdo‘so, I will look around, the meantime, and find ' on some other opening. There is no ble '- a chance for detection,has the lady Whoae’ , _; nam‘ - e , ~- ~'* ‘and place you take ad no‘relatives except a.» , youn er brother, who was adopted by a man out Iest. ‘Asf to; vex-gaging mgyood sister inany~ way, secure or ere ‘ tone. and that is all she requires. * You your duties hard or irksbme.’ 'Mffliflbflt'is . borough lady in every sense 0 . the wdrd, 8m will do eve thingto make herghome pledsant, 5"”;- tc you. _ ere are only three children the 1'- glgiegg "not ten yet, very quiet well-be— ? . g , . . “I have no doubt of its being a desirable ‘ glaciehand no tears that my duties will be too :‘ “Then leave the rest te-me’,” 5"} me fd"gayly., “My shoulders are ' broad] .21." ‘3 enoug ‘ take all the reeponsibility.’ if ‘any— misbka Imll ittaflson heright partyz”, ‘ v -r _ v “ New, my dear Missiantis «n;- “ o r y ), \ I ' . .‘big brother you had torgetton'you r sothat \ said. . Phoebetfi d when hewas boy. - “ she I l : “ '1 . beforeidihigtyygi couldn’t exist without seeing ‘ ‘ ‘somebody else 3/ I ,1 V ; men is so thou 'htless.. Miss - and“! never geek 'i ain’t!) .g/in’themall ouoaa, ,2 ’ herthaayoube nesaforamaninyeur v; liBLIWNDQBARBARA’S SECRET. , . ,who’would only be too happyto boot service to yo - ~ ' Tthe tears sprlmg to Irva’s eyes. v “I wish you were 1” The honest fellew’s face flushed at the strong protest his heart uttered against this wish. ’ “ As children say, ‘let us make believe,’ that it is so. And in that relation, ermit me to re— mark, as it was the intention 0 Miss Lane that was, to do some shopping in the city, ped'haps Miss Lane, that is, woul like to do some, also. I In that case, I hope she will allow me to be her banker; with the roviso, however,“ that she repa me when her quarter is due.” Irva elt the thoughfulness and delicacy of these words. ‘ “ I think I have a wayof obtaining all I shall need. To show my appreciation .of our kind- ness, I remiss, in ones I ammis let you ow.” . “ Now remember. In the meantime,I Will write to m sister; mentioning the accrdent, - and the do ay it has Occasioned, and making evorything clear and straight for you.” The resource to which Irva alluded was the chain, from which was suspended the locket con- taining her.mother’s picture. ' 0n returnin to her room she examined it. It Was heav an of solid gold, and must have cost ' co 'd‘era loin the day of it. he jeweler to whom she applied oflered her twenty-five dollars, less than all its worth: but it was more than Irva expected, and it wasvery gladly acce ted. , On her re she tound a trunk in her room, on which were the initials'of her new name. In the bonnet-box was "a brown straw hat, trimmed with velvet of the same color, and a long, drooping teather; much handsomer than she would We thought of buying. In another part 0 it were gloves, handker- ‘ ‘chief and various other articles of feminine ap- rel. , palm knew in a moment, who they were from, but when came e in the evening and ab taxed him with it, half-reproachfully he made , strange of the whole affair, declaring it to be a . mystery too deep for him to fathom : CHAPTER XVI. - wrwr HANNAH moucnr moor rr. ‘ Ir was finally settled that Irva should wait a ‘Week logger than the time at first decided upon, chard could accompany her. . “I want to see sister Kateand the babies,” he “ And then it will be better, taking aggthing into consideration, that I should go on. , Richard often took tea at Hannah’s during this I lateral, and was invariably there every eve- n ‘. r ' . r Ego always had some ostensible errand. “Ionl ran in for a minute," he would say, I. "laughin y. Bu , annah noticed that his minutes were re- " r g , markhbly long ones stretching themselves into an hear, at the sho . v She was very shrewd and sharpeighted, and ’ began to feel a little at two young peo- ple, each so formed as to p ease and attract the other. t so diflerent in position, being thrown so run together. . She always used a great deal .0! freedom in ' to Richard, treating him very much and which, as it need he had once , “Elna 11% she fonowgafird‘n out onto the ate , 8%»: were alwa fond oi.’ me, Mr. Richard,” {gut there never was a time inflame, in twenty-four hours I” I ‘chard colored. “ What foolish nation have you got into your nowrhe lau bed. “ Mind that ,yglueaiox’i’t get foolish notions into as I “What do you mean?” , ‘ Hannah, looked up into the bi blue egos! ‘ which had the same honest look t they a when he was a be . “ I know that > in wouldn’t do nothin’ wrong, Mr Richard, not if you kuowed it; but young Lane is a nice little art uahatance. An’ she’s Sodomyin’ that. An’ I’m you to her. “You orter be kind toallsech; help- a a. ii‘mmfim" “lint; at on on. can never mo m y nova. “madamgfi petal _ a herstoo much attention.” N land ‘had and ' en, I will__ Richard listened to this with a visible impa- tience that almost'amounted to anger. “ hat nonsense! Hannah. To hear you and my sisters talk, one would suppose‘I belonged to the blood-royal, instead of bemg an American- born citizen, penniless, but for the bounty of my uncle, who may leave his property to some Lane is my equal, in every respect and the man will be fortunate that wins her. Not that I an Elose that she has for me any other than t e 'ndly feeling she would naturally entertain for one who has honestly tried to serve her. “You mustn’t think that eve one sees me through your partial eyes,” he a doe], his ,man- ner regaining its usual air of careless good-na- ture. “ I really am not so dangerous a fellow as you imagine. Good-night.” Irva, who was standin near the open window 0: go room above, coul not help hearing much 0 is. »She smiled, as she thought of the little likeli- hood there was of her forgetting their relative positions. - W “I shall not forget, either ” she, thought “how much I owe to him. ow kindly an enerously he spoke of me, my brave defender! appy the woman that wms such a true and loya heart. It certainly will not be a friend- less nameless girl like me.” There was a certain something in Irva’s man- ner, gentle as it was, that deterred Hannah from givin her any intimation of her fears. But in the fr uent talks, in the long after- noons when Irva rought her sewingdown into the sitting-room, she contrived to op various hints which she thought would serve to put her on her guard. ‘ ' She was very fond of the Harrington family, with whom she had spent her oun da 3. t was easy to perceive that Ric d ad been her favorite, and many were the anecdotes and incidents that she had related to Irva con- cerning him allof them of a. nature to increase her admiration of his character. . Hannah was not slow to notice. the uncon- scious interest Irva took in all that related to him and shenow changed her tactics. ' ' “ . Richard was educated by a rich and childless uncle, who sets all the world by him,” she said, the next afternoon, as the sat sewing together. “ So do his sisters-4 t ink I never see sisters more attached to abrother than they be. They all countyon his making a high “hi” annah glen ting, as she said this, but whose deepening color alone showed that she heard it. . “Miss Ida Weston is oin’ to be the fortunate lady, by all thatl can ear,” pursued Hannah, tearing of! another breadth of the dress she was making. “ She isn’t rich, but , she’s at a high family. Mr. Richard’s uncle and Judge Weston graduated at the some college, and were always great friends. ' Weston is very han’some an’ stylish-lookin’, as well as highly connected. She was on here last winter, a-visitin’ his sis- ter,.an’ I mind that Mr. Richard was mighty attentive.” , - _ Irva made no reply, and Hannah did not pur- sue the subject further. , The woman’s conscience’ cked her a little; for (1 Miss ways she knew that Richa’xfd V Weston no more attention than one 0 his kind- 1y nature would naturally pay to his sister’s “ If she has got any sech notion into her head, should find it out where she’s oin’, ’twoul be jest the wust thing that couldghap- n to her; an’ it’s only a kindness to give her a eetle warnin’. I don’ exactly like the way he looks at her, or the way she colors up when he ks. But I don’t believe there’s an dang-e . ve watched ’em when they didn’t t I was notcin’, an’ I couldn’t see nothin’ more’n com. mon. He treats her as if she was a queen, ’ ihe ain’t the least mite forrerd, I’ll say that g; or! - ' Irva’s simple preparations were soon made. She got herself a brown traveling-sum. just the shade of her hat, With gloves tomatch, in which she looked very nicely. . Richard glanced approvmgly at her costume, gs, he entered the room where she sat waiting or him. .. There Was not a bit of color about her exce t in her cheeks, and these were as bright as t e bunch of roses he handed her. I “ All ready, I see. Then we’ll be of directly, as we have only, time to catch the boat.” Tbsrewere ac ytearsin Hannah’seyesas she {allowed them to the door. » \ , guest. I ‘ I mean it for her good,” she said to herself. = w i laughed Richar 3 one else, as he has a perfect right to do. Miss , ‘ mar- ‘ ced over to where Irva was sit- ’ “ I declare, I shall be lonesome enough now 1” she said, as Irva bid her good-by. ‘ i "‘I am really (getting jealous of Miss Lane,” ; “you never put such a long faco as that on whenever I went away 1” “ Be sure you come an’ see me whenever you come to the city!” called out Hannah, as they went down the steps. , " “ Of course she’ll come,” said Richard, look- mg back; “ I shall bring her m self.” ‘ What a nice-looking couple t ey be 1” thought Hannah, as she looked after them. “ It almost seems as If the was made for each other. But, lawful sakes, is uncle would never consent in the world, an’ as fur Miss Janey an’ Miss Kate they’d go distracted at the vexiy thou hts on’t.“ 1 In less than half an hour char and Irva were steammg u the Hudson. It was 3. been iful da , and the remained most of the time on dec . It was he first trip Irva had had up the'river, and everything was new and delightful. With Richard, it had lost thepharm of nov- elty but he took out pleasure in pointing out to rva the beautiful residences and placas of note by. which they passed. Indeed he felt that it was, by far, the pleasantest trip-lie had ever taken ending all too soon. “ We are nearly home now ” he said, with a. had come in half half-sigh; “it seems as if we the‘ usual time. . “Yonder is Forest Hill,” he added pointing to a house perched upon a roc em ence far above their heads. ‘ We have pamit to get to the landing.” , It was like?7 to be her home for some months, Egrlaestast, and rva surveyed it with no little in— It looked very solitary, with no habitation an here neari . rhaps this thou ht was visible in Irva’s countenance, for Rio ard said: “You cannot tell much about it from the river. On the other side the ascent is so grad- ual as hardlyto be noticed, and the country roundabout very beautiful. My sister spends most of her time there, on account of the chil- dren. But coming from the city, I fear, at first it will seem rather lonely to you.” ‘ ‘,‘I do not like the city, and am very, very glad to leave it. ” ’ ' ' As Richard looked at the speaker he remem- bored what she had told him. ' Who could be an enemy of one so gentle and cod? g gheyd had {new touched the dock. as: e a ow opencarriagestood aco red be his teeth v apparent in th smile thagilswrfadlgned £115 egg ” add m 9 ac wai or in 'hard. “ This way, Miss Iran i’z’lg ’ b ' c. “How do you do, Jack! All well at the house?” ~ ‘ “All-ye well, I thanks 0 Mr. Richar ” re nded ack, with a low chard assisted Irvain, takingthereiusinto his own hands. ~- , ' “I’ll drive, Jack; you can ride back on the e r958. ' ‘xRAll right. I’vo got to stop for the mail, an how. They told me to come for the young la y, but thus}; didn’t nobody say as how you was comin’, . Rich .” 1 ' . “There didn’t any one know it. I thought I’d take them by surprise.” ' Richard had spoken truly: the scenery which lay on each side of the windin road that led to Forest Hill was very beau ‘ , and a ca restful1 feeling came over Irva as she 106$ “ on like it?” said Richard, who had been quiegy watching her. 1“ es I have spent most of to time in the countng and it seems like e omez” “I ew its”, thought ichar , his mind be- Einningtobelost in a sea of conjecturesasto ow one, manifestly so unused to the world, should be thrust so entirely mien it. ,, A sudden turn of the road. ro t the house into new, on the broad piazza of hich a lady sat readififi. . Twoc dren were chasing each other over the lawn. ‘ As soon as the sachth the setu a loud shout. y y p , “ There’s uncle Dick, mammal” _ The lady threw down her book and was down to the carriage almost as soon as they. xiii??? remedy“ 2infirm: it: a: u re .1110, r n chard re« the lies that was given him. “ I’velnot one cusee. Lane thisis sis.» Mrs. omen.” ’ my ‘ ‘ come ter , ‘ ~ . There was auexpression otmriseinthe I * “1,2,...rwww an. A, A ._ A, i E. f, g . l“, . . V, L -. — >3; 1-.3owo.wym.w........‘wmy.m an“ ,‘ ,, .. iiig la‘dy, who'looked young to, ‘tune’ " rich. But she wasn’t. ton was married for love, Jane Harrin on was married for her money. Poor Kate! ortunate ‘f macking follow! I wouldn’t take Jane 'tics’wlth little Ad I at his hand, an which e ‘ feeling: ' BLiN'n‘B‘ARBARA’s"ISEcRE'r. 1 r \ _ _ lady’s eyes as she turned them upon Irva. Who , cvulent did not look at all as she expected. ernon was asmall, fair pleasant-look- be the mother of the children who were ~clinging to Richard’s hands , - She received Irva ve kindly. V "‘ I hope you have ful y recovered from your injuries, Miss Lane. We were greatly shocked ’ '> see your name among the killed, and very : Inch relieved when we got Richard’s letter.” M rs. rva was too truthful and conscientious not to col keenly her false position. The color came and went, and there was such a confused feeling In her head that she dared not trust herself to mpg]? except by the simple expression of her a s. _ Perceiving her embarrassment, Richard now Into sed. , ‘ “ iss Lane is not very strong as yet, and I I take the liberty of suggesting that she be shown directly to her room. They had now~reached the heuse and touch~ , v ing the bell, Mrs. Vernon consigned Irva to the care of the colored girl that answered it. . “ How different she looks from what I thought She would from Rev. Dr. Quinlan’s letter,” said 185 Vernon, as she looked after her. Richa who had the youngest of the little Vernons c ingin to his neck, suddenly put her down and stood up. “ Vg’hat kind of a description did he give of her, Pm _ . “ don’t know that he ve any scription, only I gather from t older, and not so—so retty.” Itichard’s spirits su denly rose. ‘Ypung and pretty, what a terrible misfor- ! . cular de- t she was “You ma laugh, Dick,” said his sister, alit— tle gravely, ‘blt it is a misfortune for a girl in Miss Lane’s position to be so pretty.” “ Position I wonder if there is a word in the English lan e that you and Janey have so Often on our fig?” I “ I wis you ought (if it a little more,” was the reproachful response. ~ “ I wish I did,” said Richard, dryli'; “ espe- cially when I have so much to boast o . I think our maternal grandfathe was a shoemaker l” was a sore subjec with Mrs. Vernon, as he}; brother well knew. You will be always brin 'n that up, Dick; when you know as well as 0 that grandpa £3? worked at his trade since we can remem- ‘KI . your pardo sis but grand Baker madethei‘o my first pal? of boots: and gee ones W3 were! I am really rend of the old man. A I blow-another ~; that father was ' "never sorry he married the shoemaker-’5 daugh- ter. Now tell me honestly, Kate, would you exchange her for Janey’s?” Kate thought of what she hadheard about her father’s first wife. ’ “ ‘ “ Well no. Still’it would be very nice if our ’ ‘ mammal had been as rich as Janey’e.” “So she could have made her da hter as 80 while Kate .8- laney!” . kite laughed. ‘ You know I don’t think any such thing, !you 8 us- for all her money. But for al that, 'j r . money and gosition are good things to have, rsuade me to the contrary.” don’t wis to. I only want on to realise 313:: there are some thin‘ gs wort more than er. ' , Richard now commenced a series of gymnas- who was edilin impatient- in rching a (Iielightgd child on’his shoulder. hpe saw r. Quinlan 3 name amo t e 881's on that fatal train. us may} you can Iwfioeetha than. , re “Ithink not. By the wa , Kate, Miss Lane’s f:er system has receivodyquite a shock, and thI were you I wouldn’t ask her anything about me accident. I don’t suppose she knows any ore about it than you have seen in the papers. ‘ Was no mistake about his deat ‘3 i3 '31 orghan; oomin here among entire fingers. an I feel sure gist my sister will do law can to make her comfortable.” hadnosmallshareof the fund of good but made her brother so behaved by all 0;; ghough it was considerably “ Of course I will. . I; Who ,3, . chad tethefloorthatlookout upon'the garden, and you don’t know what a difference it makes.” . . , With one child on his shoulder, and the ottm two clingin to his coat, Richard followed his sister into t e school-room, whose pleasant ap- intments and deep, low windows frontingito - he east, gave it a very cheerful and sunny as ect. p He listened absent] to Kate’s talk of all the trouble she had to go thin s to her liking. As his eyes rested upcon thee ' in front of the baize-covered des , his thoughts reverted to its probable occupant. Then aloud: “It, really, is a great improvement, Kate. I don’t see how it could be altered for the better.” CHAPTER XVII. SUDDEN summons AND A mier FAREWELL. “ONE letter for you, my dear, and two for Richard,” said Mr. emon the next day, as he looked over the evening mail. Mr. Vernon was a nice, fresh dygflmng-looking man, in spite of the incipient bal ess that was such a source of anxiet to his wife who was devotedly attached to im. Indeed the love that these two had for each other was some- thing very dpleasant to contemplate. ' Kate rea her letters with apleased smile upon her face. Then she came over to where her brother was hitting. “ I ave good news for you, Richard. Who do you think is coming to visit us?” “J aney?” “ No- aney is coming, but not now. It is the young lady you took so much interest in last winter. How stupid! Can’t you guess?” “ y dear Kate, you will havo to tell me. I always was stupid in guessing riddles. I really can’t seem to recall any young lady in whom took an particular interest.” Kate ooked almost provoked. “Why, Miss Weston, to be sure.” . And I’m so glad, on your account, Dick. I was tell John, last night, that I was afraid it would be all for you.” “ Thank you. What with your societ and the children’s, ridiliiilg, rowin and he n , I think I should find e endure le, even without the charming addition on mention.” “"Then you don’t y care for her coming?” said Kate, in a disaplpointed tone. “ I can’t as that do, firthmlarly. “Don’t 100 so sober, to,” he added, smil- ing back upon her from the open doorway. “ on cugh to consider it a compliment that I prefer your’society to that of this brilliant belle an n . ' - r ' Kate loo ed after him, with a half’sigh. “ I wonder if he never means to marry,” she thought. “ 39’: two I -four I would- n't mind it so much it wasn’t or t e fear of his making a mesaliia'nce, which I dread above all things, and which he isjustthemantodo. I wish he would take a fan to Ida. The would make such a splendid coup 9. And then should know _he was safe. I ow likes him.” “ Miss Weston will be here on the evening boat,” said Kate, thenext morning at the break- fast table, aking to her husband, but looking over at Rio ard. “ Well, who is going after her? that is the next thing to be considered,” said Mr. Vernon. “ I am, said Richard. Kate’s face brightened. ‘ “I wish you would, Richard. I know Ida would rather have you than any one.” “I am not so sure of that; but I’m going. all the same.” When Irva entered the school-room that morn- in . she found a lovely bouquet on her desk. ere had been one there the morn- ing. Su posing it to be an oflering from one of her pu , she made no comments on it exce to p se its beauty. Now she said: i ‘ Which of on brought me those beautiful flowers? Was t you, Harry!" “ o, ma’am.” “ I know!” cried Ada. “ ’Twas uncle Dick; I see in. r “ Little tell-tale,” said a voice at the door. g, Irva saw ‘ Am I intrud- Turnin m“erd', -morning, Miss Lane. g‘Not in the least! You have been herebe- gore, I perceive,” added Irva, pointing to the 0W6”. I fit“ need mniot ask how you arein lliealth,” c e as resting. admiring ‘1 radiant e, £11080 color glowed realize rightly ache “Butaslyvasthe means of your coming. Ifeel anxiomtoknowgyou hadron: ' I told Jud a of 0 «mi .133. home pleasant here, and if every one is as kind to you as 1 could wish?” ‘ It could hardly be more pleasant. And every one is as kind to me as even you could wish, who have been the kindest of all.” “ And you do not find your pupils troublesome, Iho ?” , ‘ “fit at all. They are very good children, ' and I am beginning to love them dearly.” , “ I am glad to hear that, very glad, on your account, c ildren. Because if, you are not stu- dious and careful not to make our teacher trouble, I shall take her back to ew York. brou ht her here, and I shall claim the priVilege of ta ing her away.” _ . Richard did not look at Irva as he said this. In the silence that followed he moved toward the door. . “ How long do your duties confine you here i” “ From nine until three.” ' , “ Then, with your permission, I. W111 come again about four, to have a frolic With the club dren, and brin you a new reading, and w 'ch I think Will interest you.” Richard was as good as his word; 1115 appear ance being hailedby the children witha shout of o . . j ¥lacin a chair for Irva on the grassy terrace that ran neath the low windows, hegave her the book, pointing out some passages in it that pleased her. ‘ He raise . the children that were impatiently waiting for him. ,, “New I will relieve you, for a time, ftom these torments.” ' The shouts and laughter of the children , brought Kate out on the lawn. Perceivin Irva, she came up the steps of the ‘ terraco, an seating herself on :the top one, be- ganto in uire about the children; a fruitful. theme wit her, for she was a thorough mother. As they sat chatting, Richard came up. _ “ Don’t forget about ing to the boat, Dick. Then not to have » to a: _ . “We are expecting- a young lady friend to 8 nd a few weeks with us; Judge Weston’s dgeughter, of New York.” ‘ Irva made no re ly, but shes-emede what . I Hannah had told er. It was true, then. Irva had hitherto dined with the family, tak“ ing the rest of her meals with the The day after Mi Weston’s arrival Richard missed her from the-table. ' ~ 1 . ' - ._ He said nothing; but about sunset, seeing Irva in the garden, he went down to here , ‘ “ Not you at the dining-table, I feared you were ill‘?’ , “ Oh! no. I told Mrs. Vernon, whenever there were strangers at the housefihat i ferred to dine alone. ” . “ I missed you. But if itisroallevepleasanter formyou to stay away, I am can sh d be so ” Irva looked at the speaker. *' Didh reall ' he or nausea." 6! yvmmang “YE l. 2 pie matter of Miss Weston saw them from her She regarded Richard as her exclusive proper- , she marked his attentivo air, and saw’ tty his companion was, she experienced my mend“ how with Mr. Harris tong Kate glanced sup from the worsteds she was sorting. s I X “ Yo led in the garden? it must be ' undies, they verness.” » 0h, 8'0 “ tho htherfaoearathu‘prettyone'from I “Ighadofit.” r _ ’ ' might be called very pretty. v the view “ I think it _ What do on call this blue or 1” Miss eaten would ‘ yhave calledit groomhad it been any ' She made no further towatch the pretty gem Irva too then h it had a very diflerent source. “ hepe she is worthy of him,” she thought. The nearest view she had, thus far ob of the new-comer, was when she rod’e gust the ut she window one mornin with Richard. saw enough to convmce her that was right in callingher “ very handsome and stylish- looking.” One day the twowere brought quite max. ,tedl together. . p‘fi’vagvas outwalkingwhen she saw Richard. > _ Weston approaching in an opposite di~ .n i . rection. Showouldhaveretreatedcouldshehavedone" 5 'sowith anydiznity; but.asitwa&shehadno ‘ I have been , used a moment, to look. into the eyes so serenelyto his. Then he turned .to . untilafteritwasin.” P”. 11th ‘ ’lsdylsawinthegardén " k no inconsiderable interestinher,lj “ ‘ i’. _ _-. ‘ ,2 4.1g 5. / , , a ., .. “'1 I)” Kate,aeher . marw eetothat 1 1’? I . 3 i‘ntheWarhi? » -. V , Weston told her than her words ._ ‘ ‘ aconfidential talk with x ‘ .. ', Heisgoingtomakea tour of Germany, . ; wants .1 ’ alternative but to walk straight on in‘the nar- " row moodpath that was before her. Richard came to a full stop; with the courtesy that was habitual to him. ’ "Good-afternoon, Miss Lane. MiIss Weston, let me make youac uainted with Miss Lane.” . Miss Weston gave who shrunk abashed at the cold, curious stare o the bold black eyes that were fixed upon her. ' Pausing no longer than was absolutely neces- " sary, Irva passed on. ' Anxious to atone for the rudeness of his com- on, Richard hastened after her, and openin a little to net beyond, stood with his hea uncover unti she had passed through. , Provoked at being left for one that she con- sidered so much beneath her, Miss Weston stood biting her lips with ill-concealed rage. ‘ ‘ Richard did not take the arm he had dropped, but walked beside her in ave silence. . “ pon 111 word, Mr. 'ngton,” she said. with a forced laugh, “ you show a great deal of gallantry to a nursery-governess!” “I beg your pardon, Miss Weston; it 1'smy aim to treat every lady with courtesy, .and Miss ' Lane issuch in every sense of the wor .” As Miss Weston glanced up at the speaker she saw that she had made a great mistake. ' Angry at herself, she was still more angry with the in- nocent cause. . “ The low, presuming nobody!” she exclaim- ed, as soon as she had regained her own room. “To think of her daring to stand between me and the man I love. The sly, artful baggage! she just throws herself in his way. It was a rted plan herfmeeting us as she did, and yet how surprised and confused she re- . tended to be, justto enlist his sympathies. e’s interested in her, that’s easy to be seen, it no ’ more. But I will spoil the game she is playing. , I’ll 11 Mrs. Vernon’s eyes to what itcgeging ’ pnhw cdon’tseem to have the faintesti of t: ‘ ~ , Mia Weston’s chambei' was a corner room, on the second floor; havin ".a full view of the schoolst and the groan around it. The next day, just as the sun was setting, she came down irons“ her chamber, and out upon . » thfigiazza where Kate‘Was sitting: ' r ‘ he school-room and the grounds around it to be a favorite resort to. Mr. Harrington. I notice that he is there every afternoon.” ' ‘ There was something in the tone in which this ' i spoken that made Kate raise her eyes in- qmri‘ n ly to the speak‘ er’s face. ', “ Yoga: Richard is quite fond of the children. ' 7" And they are quite as fond of him.” . 2 "Judging from appearances, I should say he , was foud’of their'pretty governess” “ Thk was a new and most unwelcome idea to changing color testified. ’ z » eaten continued: - , ,u I hour from my window. He reading to her out - ‘of-a bluesandagcld boob—Byron, I suppose. It ,amusxngi”= " . ' _ g ‘The b that followed these words was a very discordant wand as Kate raised her dark lowering face the thought ‘ her mind that she 'might not be so " desirable a wife for herpbrotheras she had sup- ‘ 'm...... m. cool in which has said: . is-not a :great lover of Byron. on do him injustice. He is too 4 , could not have. Any no ice he. s of, i435 . Lanes 'ngs from his sympathy with her lone- ' ly’ con 'tion. ” He has one of the kindest hearts 7 “ Yes: and that makes it all the more danger- ous for himto be'subjected to the artsof a bold, def} hilggmpmh htMi La tobe - vs ' ’ on ss ne ver modest and Mn .” ' y > _ I “There isyust :w are she hoodwinks you so. I , .nicely. I’ve had In eyeon her for some time and ytu’ll me the yshe ever came into the v j" j house, now you mark my words!”- , " Herethey were interrupted. ‘ Kate Was much more disturbed what Miss icated. She had the strongest confidence in as Well as love . , for her brother, and her heart revolted at the idea, of the necessity of any surVeillance; still she determi-neditokeep her eggs open, and to have , chard at the earliest possible moment. ” The next " , =Richard entered the break— ,. ‘ ,, fast-room withlan open letterin hishand. i. -“I haven. lee, Kate, “gingham meethlm in Wotan the messy- him. ‘What do you of . . I. ‘y ‘ t > I it > y. . _ - l l l y . k .mto with lifting his hat i a a short, haughty nodé ‘ beeuwatehmg them for the last ham“ other we 5. ,; fl 1; _- ml _ honorable. stoning-with any woman serious intentions he ‘i’ Kate was [silent for ‘some’ moments, her face very grave. , I. I - r A “ I think if 'he wants you to go, you ought to “ I think so, too.” There was another silence; this intelligence casting a damper on all present. “The steamer City of New York, leaves to- morrow morning,” said Mr. Vernon, looking up from his paper. . “ That 18 he one that I want to take,” said Richard. ’ ‘ There was no more said; both brother and sis- ter seemed very much preoccupied. Richard hurried through his breakfast, leaving the room immediately after. Igie looked back upon his sister from the thresh- o ( . “In order to catch the express, Kate, I must leave in half an hour.” ' Miss Weston went directly to her room; ‘ -. “ I knew, it, she said, as she saw Richard crossing over to where Irva stood by the open window lookin out upon the garden. ‘ He has no the ht or me: it is all for her—her!” Almost W1 d with rage, jealousy, and despair, the speaker stamped her foot upon the floor, the black, straight brows nearly meeting over the e es. ‘ “ He shall not find, her here when he returns ——net if I can prevent it!” . In ‘the meantime, Richard had taken both Irva’s hands in his. “My dear Irva, I have just received news that compels me to start for Europe, to be gone several months. It comforts me to think that ,l leave you so pleasantly situated. I have some- thing to tell ou—something which I feel ough! _. not to be so ong delayed, but must write it. Now' I have only time to say good-by, and God bless you i” , A warm lingering pressure of the hand, a look that haunted her long after, and he was gone. ' It had come upon her so suddenly that she had. sat like one stunned. ' Now tears came to her relief; tears that had in them somethi oi sweetness as she recalled the tenderness of 1‘. 09¢ [few parting words. / , CHAPTER XVIII. V . BAD INEWS’. V As strongly attached as Kate was to hei brother, she was not sorry to have him go. She could not but own that Irva was ye at- tractive, and that Richard was fond of t g ' g with her. ' ' “ It is only a fancy,” she said to herself, “ but serious things grow out of such, sometimes. Fla will forget all about it before he comes back! and then travel will be beneficial to him. in Miss Lane suits me; she is so do voted to or duties and thechildrenso fond oi her, that I should feel serry to have to send, hm awafi.” H , p r . , “ "y sister, Mrs. Sully, _will be here to-morv row. ’ ‘ ;‘ V . That name sent a sudden shiver through Irva's veins. ‘ ' ' f ‘ - wigs soon as she could command her voice, she “it is late for city people to come to the 7 \ country.) , p , . ‘f Yes;,but Janey’s doctor ordered her to the sea-shore during t e hot weather. I hope we shall have pleasant days yet.” , “ Is her husband comin with her?” . “I think so. John, is to hell coming?” ‘ “ Hesaid he was coming oira few days. To be henest, “I had just as soon he wouldn .” “0h! John, you musttry and make it plea- sant to him, for Janey’s sake”, , “ If Janey had the sense she was born with, she’d have left him long ago i” growled Mr. Ver- £3? in a tone Irva had never heard him. use ore. ‘ _ But she scarcely heeded it. It was well that the gathering twilight hid the pallor of her face, as leaning her hea “upon the pillar of the porch she struggled against the sickening feelings tha came over her. ‘ ' ' It was him I She had hoped that it was some one else of the same name. What was she to do now? Oh! if Richard were only here! ‘ But she was all alone; there was no one to aid or counsel her. , _ .One by one the stain came out, looking down upon her from their azure thrones. r The moon arose from behind the distant hills, a. silvery halo over the peaceful scene that ad beensuehanEden resttoher. ' - _‘, ‘ , Must she have itggoing out into the; wide world ' in withw ch, was so unfltted to ' ' shouldt‘s’hé eta " and fight “it”th v ,lSigiljiDfiB_ARBARA’S7 sects-r, ‘ I :Lan ‘honey an’ I’s afeard .gy this bad man Wi his own weapongma n 1‘"; ' even if “conquered, ' suflering no i oble dc'feat? , She did not'close her eyes in 5 cap t at night “ until she had decided which of these t 0 thin gs n she would do. ” r Irva did not have to feign a headache the next morning, to account for her pale cheeks and heavy eyes. ' , .She attemsfited to dress, but her head was so giddy that e was obliged to lay it’back again upon the pillow. As soon as Kate see her. Irva rotested, that she needed nothing but heard of it, she came in to v rest an quiet; so Kate darkened the room, and went out again, taking the children to the other part of the house. She did not try to rise again until evening. ' z and then she did not leave her room. She heard the merry _voices of the children, as they got into the carriage that was going to [7 meet the boat. . . Almost immediatelyeafter it had gone, Judy came to the door with her supper, saying: “ You hain’t eat nothin’ to speak of all day. waited till the rest on gm had theirn.” Irva sat with the untested su per before henn until she heard the returning w eels of the car :1 ma 0. , (in: to the open window, she listened. Amid a that medley of voices, Very dist" ctly came to her strained ear the smooth, '1) d voice that she so well remembered. - He had come, the man she so dreaded—cruel and pitiless in his love as in his hate. I The battle of life had commenced again; and she must have strength to fl ht it. ’ , ' Returning to the table, is broke her 1011 fast. Then disrobing, she laid her weary heag quon the pillow, falling into a deep, unbroken s umber. ’ ‘ ‘ ’ Near the middle of the fprenoon, Irv'a heard I. steps along the curridor which led roorn door. Then Katefs voice, saying: ' “Miss Lane/my sister,Mrs. Sull . Don’t let us interrupt you. I only wanted show her the school-room.” ' to the school- ‘ _ Irva glanced up at‘the face'she'so well, re— membered, simply bowing in reply to‘ that plea- sant salutation. ’ ' She was sitting she kne that Stephen was standing on, the 'threshol —.knew it by the opfiressive atmos— here he alwazfs brought with adnot heard ' voice. . ,. V ' He was gaylyu talking With Weston, 'who was in better spirits than she hakllbeen since Richard left. ' ' ' The two moved slowly the room; but she did not turn her head, or lift‘her eyes frorn the book that was lying 0 on o the," (flask. v She heard, as inn. dream, ' , gaining the improvements to her sister. At- acted by the voice, Irva lanoedu atthe face of the latter, long enoug to seat ‘ tthe eye and mouth had a resolute though pleasant ex- on. ‘ ' ‘ ' ' The two sisters. moved back to the deer; Stephen and Miss Weston remaining in the window, their gay words and laughter, _ g the room. . p ’ I ’ Mrs..Sully turned round as sherea‘ched the thre hold. ‘ " 4% “ I beg Miss Lane’s pardon!” ‘ v J There was an almost imperceptible em basis- on the words italicised; clearly rce t he to Im, however, and just as clear & un erstood. , She heard the closin door wi ateeling of relief th t was inde . ble. It seemed as if she coul A :nerves one minute longer. , - ’ . . Would he betray her? Knowing all she could tell concerni him, would "he dare to do 30? She had gat cred fromwords dropped’b Mrs. Vernon that her sister’s nopertywas sett ed on herself ' and that her bus was, we measure. dependent upon her. , . ’ “ Did you say this yonng lady’s name was Lane?” inquired Stephen of his sister—'in-law, as theyypaszed beyond hearing. , _ ' - , es. 1 “It strikes me that I have. seen her before. Where is she from?” “ Massachusetts. ‘\ '“ ~ 8,171,515 isftheda ter!" . lim‘nshedauguaug' ‘ .{QI ou’d faint away if you j with her back to the door, but . im, even ifshe , ' pasther, down through, k ' Irva felt the eyes that were fixed upon her, I éx- 7‘ gme, Stephen; you are disturbing Miss 6 ' I» / ( not halve home the ppm her 1‘ Her father was old ' ~ Lane of Scarbomugéix.” He left twochildren; one, a boys't'wo or , ears oun er, cousin i : . took With hm: ouzto*auln¢y,11d v g 1:: ' . not bein ' l)" _ 1"..- u _ . .4 ; . - I . ... r. BLIND IBAJRBARAi-s‘ SECRET. 9 '- ‘ ~>~ r > , . we 2‘ , ‘ la , V ' was not unnoted by Miss Weston. , l “ here did you see this girl i” ’ ‘ -. Stephen looked a little startled at this abrupt inquiry, especially as he saw the look of intense Interest a‘ndpuriosi in the eyes of the speaker. . “I thought I saw or in New York; but as it is an’other name, I conclude I must be mista-’ ' en. Miss Weston was far from satisfied. “I believe they have met before,” she said to ’ . herself' “ there was such an astonished ex res- alon in 'seyes when ’he looked at her, anr she behaved so oddly! There is a mystery about that girl' and I’ll find it out before I am many ’ Weeks 01 or.” CHAPTER XIX. ‘ STEPHEN HAS HELP FROM AN UNEXPECTED ‘ QUARTER. TEE next day was Sunday. I Mr. and Mrs. {Vernon were very regular in V their attendance at church; and the day being fine the la 'carria e was got out to accom- modate all esirous 0 going. , Irva had never missed one Sabbath; gene- rally preferring to walk- in flieasant weather, it much over a mile town, but today she deci ed to remain at home. Soon after the carriage had gone, she saw Stephen come out n n the lawn. As he walked up and down, smo ing, she ohservod that he cast man a curious glance at the window, by the close blind of which she stood. . As unpleasant as an interview would be Irva felt the. it would be better that the should have an understanding, in order that know what to expect. - ,, 3 She would not seek. him, but be resolved to give him an opportunity to spea to her, if he “89" ii.“ i.“ a 1. is... ripe V gt ewin ow,s esteppedout,wal ' élowly dewn the path until she came to a tree at ,thé lower part of the garden. . . ’ .‘AS soon as Stephen saw her, he threw down his cigar, and making sure 'that there was no 9119 around, walked toward her. 1. ‘- ‘Irva stood with one hand resting on the tree. 8116 his etc but did not, move, until he a few est; then she turned her head Stephen raised “his hat with an air of mock ' fiend-mom , Miss Sutton. To find on We, in this been ‘ l retreat, is a pleasure t , t I lttle e ted.” ‘ , . is entirely on your side.” “Emacs-loll ‘ ‘ y considering the ab- .111 inswhich you. left me, Miss Sutton, or 7’? , .,. .;, 813' 19th it gages. choose 111. e might “ v, u on] right to ouathat our course will do- terminemine. I? #3, as get, said nothing in’ regard to curacquaintence, not an ing that you would one to have your wi / sister, whichl—know of the deception you practiced, orthe wron you‘meditated.” ' ' r “She won believe you!” I - . “She will believe me. She knows. enough ' about-you to believe every word of it.” This was a shot that went straight home, as figphenhchanging color testified, and Irva took “ I am not sure but what I ought to tell her, “YMMV: still it is not-“my intention to do so no ess you renew it necessary. But I shall do- fend $131011» you may be sore. Let me hear the .811ng word or- hmt to my discredit, and I Will not keep silent.” ‘ ' “ You are making a great fuss about a very small matter. 1 If _ 0119me the name of Lane to Sutton, or me to ignore ?ir former ac- uaintance I don’t know why should mm. ere and I ve no intention of doing so.” u. on will do as you like, of- course. All'I shardand h’vetosayisthatlwill keep but not one moment longen” V Stephen returned :to the house inme an. other mood tram WhICh he left it. ‘ He could not but own that he was ice as much at Irva’s mercy as she at his; that he had given his wife strong reasons for believing the story she could tell. . Having dissipated his Own. property, he was. ‘ entirely dependent u 11 her liberality; and the thought that she mig t follow the adVice of cer- A ' : tain of her relations, and leave him, Was not ’ Yer pleasant t‘ocontemmate. . | i . ' . Bye met W'Weston at the door, who had ; been watching them from her Window. » “So you are bewitched with’the pretty: fig; erness also. Your cousin- and brothel‘in‘ - seemed to here no thought for anme else '4 when bewashcre.” g a, ‘ Stephen danced keenlyatthespeaker. The - Silent if, you do, Irva had puzzled him, now it was clear. Miss Westqn’s long—repressed feelings found vent in words. “ If there: is any meaning in looks, he loved , her! I was nothing more than a stock or stone { in his sight, if she was by! It is useless for on to try to deceive me; I saw you when you rst den. thin of her that none of us know here.” “ It is safe with me. I will not mention name, or let any one know where I got it.” , Stephen was silent for some minutes; his eyes fixed negon that eager, passionate face, as if trying see how far he could safely trust her. “I will be frank with you; we have met be- fore; I do know more of her than any one knows here. But you know how jealous Janey is of me, as it is, and I dare not speak of it.” ' “ I understand you; but you need’not fear that'I will get you into any trouble. Tell me something—give me the merest clew, and I will work it out or myself} and nobody will be any the wiser.” ,, , Again Stephen studied the face of his com- gmon; man conflicting V thoughts passing rough his 111 n . d To his dislike of his brother-in-law was added the fierccr feeling of ‘ealousy. He burned. to punish and humiliate he wbman that had re— pulsed and defeated him, and, if possible, get her ain into his power. 0 this was added the cowardly fear, if Irva was allowed to remain in her present position she would say something that his wife woul hear. ,If he could lower er in the estimation of the family, so that her word would be discredit; ed he would be safe. . 'I‘hese thoughts passed with lightnin g rapidity throu h the mind of the man, w 0 never had an unse h one in his life. ’ _ “ Y3}; would like to send this girl, away in dis- ace * ' . ' ' - “' ‘would give half my life to do it!” . Stephen looked at the speaker, smiling. as he thong1 t how adapted to his purpose ,Was the ‘tOOI‘ at was put into his hand. " “This is one of the Brovidences that pious’peoo ple talk about I” was is inward jeer. . .. . Miss Weston continued: _ _ “Ihate her! She has wiled away from met the only heart I cared to possessiand if it is in the wer of mar ‘ woman to drive heraWay indisng I’ll do it.” = . . . “‘ I ill place in our hands the means to ef— Iepb $1318,“ 'you , ledge yourself nottolet it belmown thy; I anything to do With it?” ' > romise. . , “ Come into the library.” . The two were closete in the library nearly an hour. Irva, as she returned to the ho , But this elation was followed by a sense of depression: a feeling she had often had of late. . Never did she feel so painfully the false posi- tion in which she had placed herself—its wrong as,well as its .dan er. She had never inten , to remain in it so ong; but the more she saw of Mrs. Vernon the more she was convinced that nothing could induce her to lace her children undenthe care of any one t t could not fur- nish the stroth testimonials; that all her hab- its and modes of thought < would make it very difficult for'her to perceive any excuse for the dece tion she had practiced. ; I With all these new complies. ions, to make any confidante of her now was out of the question, but she resolved to leaveat the expiration of the quarter, and seek some other situation, however unpleasant it might be. I _V . CHAPTER XX. MISS wnsron’s TRIUMPH. , , ON the following Wednesday Stephen return- ed. toNew York, leavin his wife With her Sister. Two weeks later as r. Vernon, Mrs. Still , Miss Weston and hate were other in t e 1clsltimmon sitting-room, a. card was (led to the tter. '_ , “ Lane—George Lan ” she said, looking at it , “ He willnot dare to say anything,” thought use. that name. Doyou, Jo n?” » »“ No, my dear,” sai Mr. Vernon, return- in the card to his wifa Perhapsit is some rec in ive of our pretty governess I ' r l” , .“Didheinqmre‘ form. 3”“ ' ~ . “‘Y 7a" ,7 " ' _-.” ‘6‘ , _ a... some 1...,er ' 'tw stifle; calculatinnl’oo‘k 33?; , with a puzzled air; “ I On’t know any one with I, ‘.‘ So Richard was in love with this girl?” | met, I watched you talking together in the gar- ; You have met before; you know some—g “ t is not always safe to tell what we know.” your 3 x . practicing sucha deception as th feeling that Miss Weston had evinced toward face made himseem much older, while his mom: ‘ ner, though quiet, showed that there was little danger 0 any under self-estimation. ' Kate arose on his entrance. “ I am Mrs. Vernon.” _ The stranger bowed: not the faintest a1» preach to a smile disturbing the gravity of his ace. , r “I am George Lane. I havo been given to understand that m sister, who I supposed was killed on a railz'oad collision, is living in your house in the ca aci of governess?” Kate smiled: her ind cart warming at the tholught of the pleasure in‘store for the lonely r __ . . “You are right: she is here. It is not strange / that you supposed her killed, for it was so stated in the paper. ’ - r . ‘ - “You will pardon me, madame,b'nt I must consider it not a little strange that she should have left me so long in ignorance of this error; leaving me, in fact, to find it out by the mercst. accident.” . ’ ’ It did strike Kate as very odd, but ever dise posed to look at the sunny side of things, she said: “ Very likeifi her letters miscarried. At all“ ' events, she w’ be delighted‘to sce vou. Will ourgo to the school~room, or shall I send for er . “With. your I will see her here. Be gogd enough to simply send for’lier, and no. more. ‘ Inwardly Wonderin ,‘Kate' re the messa I to a servant couchedg‘ in the'gtie’rms and returned to her seat. " , ' " There was something so odd about the stran— ger, his manner, his sudden ap arance, and all, hat he became an objecto “conceity'an’flin- terest to all resent. ‘ _ He seeme the most unconcerned one of the grou .. Onp looking around his e fell upon Misc Weston, who was sitting in e recess of the bay 1 window, bowin in response to her gracious smile of recogni 'o‘u. , ” g ‘ This“ com leted‘ the general wonderment. Kate hr, e the aw ward silence, bysaylng: » , “I judge it to be some'years since you have seen your sister, Mr. Lane ._ ' ' '- “ is six years since I lavas East, madame. I dent. hat I. was very flat the timed" u should have come on When‘l‘heard of'the'acci-g K . At this moment‘Irva entered. ' , "The stranger looked’st, ‘ dilyand” " , 'her,'but*gave her”no signjofrecogii ' ‘ .‘ - , Irva 'nced quietly Md, and then"t1i'rned \_ her eyes e 'ctantly upon'Kate, who smiled as " " ‘ she get the qiéestiiclmirfitmn ’ ‘ , , f ‘ V‘ asyour,rot er ,somu you" ’ den’t know him, Miss Lane?” ' ' , ' y I The stranger now spoke: ' ’ ' ' ' " ’ .. ' That Woman is an‘impostor, madamefafieio a . not my sister .7” , ‘. _ v mine had explodedso suddenly beneath ’ her feet, that for some” minutes Inn y", ' mo» tionless, starin ’blankly into the stern’facenf ’ her accuser .w 0 now" arose to his feet. "than she said, addressing her wordst‘o Katee ' 7 " « “The, ntleman speaks truly sister. 1 er sin merstay herei he name to which at: not entitled, an ‘ I , you to suppose that which is not true.” " “i In spite of those crimsoned cheeks ’ ing’ voice, there was acertain dime this , frank avowal thatwas ngtwithoutitr‘ ct upon thosewhoheardit,t oughit’valrie‘d". . each one of than. , » " Kate was a devoted mother: and thinning}; that she had intrusted her dear babesto he cane ’ of one of antecedents she knew j ethics-5;? . threw her into a state of alarm and indignatibn that quite transformed her. ' “ “U? my word! this is _ sion, iss—whatever your name may he! should, really, 'Me to know your . borne" : n“ an. I » v for-v ,.. XS 5. . f AS. Irva lifted her eyes she met those. cruise Weston fixed full upon her, gleamihgiwith scorn -' i v “hdxtfiumph " ’os " twin ‘ 011 W' ,toknowmym ves 1 them—hut not here.” ., i g I ‘ r v She then turned toward theistran'ger. ' ‘ , “Aside from disciaiming any thoulght or, in- , , tention of fiving‘you pain or,th e, {have ‘ only one t ‘ng to. say. I know not only“ name of, your informant, but his motivesgndfi wish you to tell him that as home not opt I promise neither shallI mine? _ ° Miss, astonnow'ste to , ' ' ’ ‘ math" hl‘f'Herd‘dflfl Shem‘meemm" an. r .his‘ig'rormantl’? _ ,. I " 4" :3; if '~ 1W ‘ ‘ more ' r l . XV. . I smoothie" “ ' I935???" i t , every 6601 ‘ s ' hadn‘t been called away . II ' ' damagi- 1, any warning, and whohas, perhaps, no place to 7:: ‘i I ‘.$M ’ ' ,“Kotmnohofanythin . she hinted at some ‘ c .‘ I , note , some "BARBARA'S "SECRET. rose from the first; and various things that came .to my knowledge confirmed this suspicion. wrote to Mr. Lane; and this is the result.” , The tone, even more than the words, stung Irva from her self-control. , “ I am no adventuress! but, with the eXcep- tion of this error—for error I admit it to be—as true and are a woman asan here. Some day vou may thrust out into t e world as I have n, and know what a hard world it is. ” 3‘ Irva went straight to the school-mom. As she stood at the desk, taking some papers .lfromit, Mr. Vernon entered. He was an easy- tem red man, b habit and inclination averse to t e task before im, altask that was not made » 1 any easier by the face that was turned toward him. . ; ,“ Miss—aheml—I s‘u . course, that you would not care to remam with us a? longer.” “, or do I suppose you would care to have me ) ‘EWeu—aheml—we won’t discuss that point. . Mrs. Vernon requested me to fipay you the quar- v ter’s salary. You will find i correct, I think.” - ,Irva handed back a portion of it. “ The quarter has not expired yet; I can take 0111 what is due—if anything is!” Vernon had just come from listenin to , an excited conoauy between his wife and iss ‘Weston in roger to the enormity of Irva’s con- duct, and in whose feelings he had shared, to a ' certain exten but there was something in this involun on, coupled with the deject- ed look an attitude, that caused a sudden re- vulsion to this. ‘.‘ I think you me. count on the whole amount Le fairly e ; I have heard Mrs. Vernon spea often of your faithfulness to your duties , and kindness to the children.” The quick tears sprung to Irva’s eyes. »‘f-Thank you for saying that! Still ”-'—-here a shadow fell across the “ under the circum- stances. I would not take anything for my ser- vices if I were not compelled to do sh.” “ If you. wish to return to New York, there is a train that leaves at half- seven. But if you prefer to wait and take t morning boat— of course you will do so. The carriage will be at your dis at an time on name.” . ‘ I will ve to,-_n1ght. lease convey m 1 thanks to MraVernon for the kindness wi which she has treated me. I might yy some- thing in palliation of what she so 23' stly con- demns, were I at liberty to do so. But it would only occasion fresh trouble. So I will only ask both tothink as’ kindly of me as you can." ' _. Vernon returned to the room where the thfee ies were still sitting. ‘ ‘ I’ve done it, Kate; but I hope you won’t give me any more such commissions. t’s rather rough on a woman to turn her adrift without '0 to.” ‘ ' I» “ “Such as she find plentytocarefor them!” said Miss Weston, with atoss of the head. ‘ «Mt. Vernon gave the sgeeaker a look, not over a have rightly inter— i . , . ‘ “files is not a bad woman, if that is‘what 1you mean; I hogggu’gh of the world to be ab 0 to you 0 she have to say for herself?” in— t but d not state what.” 0 had an object!" said Miss once at Kate. what she said,” pur- Wes ' withameanin “I’mcouldn’t unders g ' : sued Mr. Vernon. “ ‘wish you would have a’ y . talki‘ with her, Kate; she leaves, on the evening ' s’ tra n. , Kate’s usually clear perce one were entirely clouded by the fears by Miss Wes- ton’s insinuations. . :“Ishall do no such thing, John!” she said, in an excited tone and manner that her husband had never heard her use before. “ You on ht to be ashanmd --and when I think of Rich- ardnnd all that might have happened, if he so sudden? I don’t know how to contain myself! But i is always figwsfiflhwgth you men, you never see any- a woman 1!: Vernbn $33 at the lnsinuation convey- he. v on will do asypu like, the h” of . the woman is ’ ‘ ' own sex. ‘Mr’l.Sull hudk slim thnsfarthough less than " Very well, my dear; anc , \ x , as a. matter of. to ask such a thing ofmel Wen ‘ h I think of the den r to which the dear children have been by these words, which, to do him Justice, no V i “There are some exceptions to that rule—- many, I hope; and I am among them. This girl is no adventuress. She has the beauty that too often arouses the gealousy of our sex and the lawless passions o rors she. may have committed, no one can look into her face, or watch her, from day to day, as I have done, and not feel that she is innocent at ~ heart. I mean to have a talk with her.” the other but whatever er- ‘ I There was an uneasy expression in Miss Wat- -' son’s e es, as she looked after her. “W at do you suppose she means to do?” she said in a low tone, to Kate. - “I don’t know,” returned Mrs. Vernon, look- a little disturbed at her sister’s sudden exit. aney is s odd, saying and doing what no one else would t ink of.’ Mrs. Sully went directly to Irva’s room, whose surj rise was clearly Visible in her eyes as she opene the door. ' “ I beg pardon if I intrude, but I thought that perha s you might like to see a friend?” “ cg your pardon, madame, if I seem un- grateful and discourtcous, but none of your name can ever be such to me.” Mrs. Sully was repared, in a measure, for this repulse, and t e calm friendliness of her look and manner did not alter. “ Are you sure of that?” “Quite sure. I know how kind and good you are and am so that you should have tothink 5 so ill of me, but it cannot be helped. All I can say in enlplanationvis, that I was thrust out into the worl , with neither friends or anything to help me. It was open to me to come here, in the way that I did come, and I yielded to the temptation. ,It was a great mistake.” “ e all make mistakes. The whole life of some is one long mistake. At least it seems so here; how it may look to us in the Hereafter, we cannot tell. If you have made a mistake all you have to do now is to learn the lesson it teaches. Be careful that you do not make an- other, by rejecting the hand extended to “I reject it in no unfriendly spirit. Our ways lag di’flerent. It must be so; it cannot be other- in (t 4 “ I am a wealthy, childless woman; by reason of ill-health, much alone. I need some one to sit With, talk and read to ’me. From what I have seen of you, I think you would suit me. Will on come?” ,“8 ran e ungrateful, and even rude as it may soun to you, sooner than come into your household in any capacity I would do the most menial labor that can be ima ined.” , Contrary to what might expected, Mrs. Sully evinced no displeasure at this. She surveyed Irva with an interest beneath which lay some stron feeling, though of what nature it was impossi Is to say. , “Did you ever meet my husband before you saw him here?" lrva stood motionless the color comin and filing m her checks, as though inwardly ebat- g what she ought to say. . ‘ ‘ Why do you ask that?" ’ “No matter; I do ask it.” “ Before I answer, I must ask you a uestion. Did be, your husband, have an thing do in brin ng upon me this new mi ortnne?’ , “ you refer to Mr. Lane’s discovery of your assumption of his sister’s name, Miss Weston asserts that no one had any band in it but she, and all I can learn confirms her statement.” “ Then I cannot tell you. Believe me, dear lady, it will not make you any happier to know; and I entreat you not to question me further.” , “I willbnot;hi;hgr'¥ is naexieed. Tim-re is only onewa yw c can on. e on o- in back to New York?” p y y g rva was silent. “ My child, what can I say that will induce you to place some confidence in me? Do you hink I would betra you, or do anything to make your hard life arder?” , “No, no! I did not, could not think that! Bait dI thought, perhaps, you did not under- s n —- “ I understand more than you think—more than 1 wish I did—God help me i” Irva looked at the pale face which bore traces of mental, as well as physical suiferin . The e es that met hers were full of gears. “ dl do on en me? With all the gov— erty and loneliness, t at makes your hear so hes; , wool)? lSn exchangeyour lot for mine l” ‘ , or ’ “Wemuste‘achbearourcwnburdens, mak- ,ing the mdst of themthntis' e. I would ’helpmuouwo letme. Ifyou ige’r’egoingtofifew pork Indgmbe able to do “ I am goingsthere.” ' c v “ Then, if you are in want of shelter or a friend, go to St. Mark’s Hospital, and inquire 'for Sister Millicent! I will give you a line to her. “ Now, one_thing more. Have you suflicient confidence in me to follow my advice in one in- stance, and without asking any questions i” “ I have.” “ Then leave here half an hour earlier than you intended, and instead of going directly to the station, go to the hotel—you know where it is, just opposite the post-ofllce—and, engagin a private room, remain in it until I see you. fi’ill you do this?” “ I will.” CHAPTER XXI. CHECKMATED. “I, REALLY, wish, I knew what to do,” said Kate, in a tone of perplexity that made her hus- band glance over at her from the top of his paper. “ Do about what?” ‘ . “ Why, with this letter to Miss Lane, as we always called her.” ~ “ I should say that the only proper and hon- orable way was to give it to her.” “ But it is from Richard. I know it by the , , handwriting and postmark.” “I don’t see What that has to do with it.” “Of course you don’t!” returned Kate, with an irritation born of the conflict that was going on in her mind. “You can’t see any harm in Richard’s correspondin With such a woman, but I do! It’s my belie that she came here for the express purpose of entrapping him. And she would have succeeded if he had stayed much on an “ ell, in love,” said Mr. Vernon as he look- ed at his w fe’s flushed and bed face, “if = I were in your place I woul ’t wo about it. " You are not individually r nsible f 1- Dick. He’s 01 enough" to take care 0 himself, should say, if e’s ever going to be.” ‘ Some men never are,if they live to be gray- headedl” ‘ “Or bald-headed ” said Mr. Vernon, slyly, raising his hand to thesth about as l as a half-dollar in the midst of his luxuriant ocks. “ You can lau h, John,” replied Kate, smilin herself a little a this suggestivenction, “ I do feel worried about it, especially now that Richard is coming home.” ‘ “ Is Richard coming back?” said her husband, his thoughts taking an entire] new direction. “I thought he was going to away several months.’ “That was his intention: but it seem from his letters that uncle Charles has recei some news that compels his immediate return. That is what Richard writes; uncle Charles is so ec- centric that it’s just as likely to be a freak of his as an hing.” , “Now think I will beat a retmt,” laughed Mr. Vernon, moving toward the door; “when you be 'n to abuse uncle Charles, there is no chance or a sinner like me!” Miss Weston was present during this conver- sation. She now approached Kate. ' “ Do you know w at [would do, it I had that lettefi?” m I ‘ ”~ “ ‘ “I would do more than that; Iwould read it.” Katet’is honorable nature recalled from this an on. ' othin could tem me to do that! fine utmost I cguld think olftdoing would be to re- tain it; and I don’t know as I 011 ht to do that. John thinks that I should give er the letter, and I believe I will.” _ ‘_‘ You are too late in our decision,” was the quiet response; “ I saw t carriage go down the savanna ten minutes ago.” The feeling of relief in, Kate’s heart was plainly visible in her face. , a “If she is really gone, why, of course, there is nothmg more to be said or done.” v x As soon as Mrs. Sully had made sure of Irva’s I departure, she ordered hegopon chaise, with , which she was accustomed dr Ye about, and set out to the village. ' She went directly to the post-omce, carefully scrutinizing the faces of the few loungers that around the door as she entered. Like the majority of such in small places it’ was located in acountxy" store, a corner of which was lgxed OE, and dignified by the name of postoo ce. I The r0 rietor knew Mrs. Bull si ht. He was a gal? who prided himself 031:); bility, es iall tothe fair sex. .v Whitman, MrsvSnlly. Your husband > isintownagain,1see.” V ‘ . “ls he?” was the unconcerned re 1y. ’ “Yes; I saw him at the not fifteen minutes since." ,‘.. \, Ir .' , . ., . , ». , T .. “F v . , u, f, *‘L 5. . .. : I _ Wig? ' “#5.. t‘ zap M7" ’l “Iain I w him this mornin ,2! said the son of the’postmaster, who was tting at a 1 desk in the inclosure. ' took the mail-matter that was handed her, and went out. . Leaving her carriage there. she crossed over to the hotel, and was shown to the room where Irva was waiting for her. ‘ 2 fire you willing to trust me still further?” am.” ’ “ Then do, not go by rail. At the lower land- mg is a small boat called the Firefly. It is a freight boat, but it sometimes takes passen ers. You had better go by this boat; it will be st and safest. Do you understand me?” “I think I do.’ , “ That is sufficient. Your baggage has not ‘0611 taken from the carriage, 1 see. That is Well, as you have no time to lose. I am ac- ‘ quainted with the captain of the boat; mention my name to him, an be will give you every at- tention. Here is a letter to ‘ ister Millicent ’ of the Sisterhood of St. John, a Protestant order. You can trust her. It is her holy vlvniission to be a friend to the friendless, and she I be a true and kind friend to on.” ‘ rs. Sull wai until the carriage was out Of Sight. he then drove to the depot. It was a small low building, as is generally 3:6 case, situated in the least pleasant part of 6 V. lags. There were a number of people on the broad Platform. waiting for the evening express, that wgulgi soon be dug. h sed to th ncmg' aroun s e on e o n ~ doorwa, , just within whligl’l stood a man wit a 'Slouche hat’ drawn down over his face, the col- lar of the closely-buttoned coat being turned up 80 as to nearly meet it. He recognized her, but whether she did him ,Was a matter of doubt, as could be seen by the Involuntary drawing back into the shadow. ’a doubt that was soon dispelled. en , « 'Not a lSteEhen’s power of dissimulation could Elm the sem lance of any thing like pleasure to v a {posting so unexpected and undesired. . y, Janey! What brought you out such a chfllysgvening as thislj t h to 1 Ease ouare us asmuc surprised “Names? 6 added, in a lighter tone. “ 0‘1 igiggllorlllrary, I expected to see you.” - “ For two reasons. The postmaster told me 5’0}; were here, for one.” ‘ And _the other?” said Stephen, with an out- “laid Smile, and an inward anathema at that in- dlwdual’s offieioumess. ,. Janey looked at her husband, so steadily that £11118 Eyes wavered, and then dropped herown to 6 001°. “_ A’md the otheric—we will not talkof thatjust 00W. “I‘just runuponalittle mess. have come up to the house, I had not to return on the next train. “ What business?” “ Oh! well, , bout a horse that Will Marsden has and that wantto swap for my gray. But 0 dn’t induce him to accept in terms.” “I shouldn’t suppose you co d. Will Mara den must be more than three hundred miles tr0m here by this. He started for Colorado, 3' “terday morningl.” “ How stupid l-e meant his brother George.” His brother George went with him.” - ere was not much that could confuse Ste- ghen but at this his face reddened, and for a ' me e seemed ata loss what to say. ‘ aney’s countenance did not alter. There was '10 gleam of mirth or triumph in the sad eyes thfi surveyed the sullen face out of which the . . flush of shame had not yet faded—a shame that ' , it no touch of remorse. - * - was the man she had vowed at the al- E“ to love and honor! Love him, she did not; honor hi she could not. But who was to 1tune for t at broken vow? How plainly all the evils-of his evil life were itten upon his _ fem, changing its every ex- ? “$3,” aliill mifle 1 pal 1 th 1f th s u or s 9 99 so y e a 1:? between her soul and fills, and w ch was - dening dail In the meantime Ste hen was kee in akee thm‘Eh quiet outlook.p Not a perslbngente , me r00m or ft it, unnoticed by. him. He was . I angst-.13. impatient to rid himself of bis‘com- “ My dear Janey the-airis tting too cool .ggdgefg’esh for you. 'Let me pugou in the car- ‘ Thank you; I’m in no hurry." ' 1 '83 $1513, then a shrill whistle came from down the :,v,, ,w' Without making comments, Mrs. Sully. " inxrand the two Went out upon t e platform. ’clivity that led from i should. expected BL‘INDI- ‘B‘ARB‘A‘RA'S SECRET-F ‘ ' , 21 Janey took out her watch. The ‘ Firefly ” had left the dock, and Was on her Way to New York. A minute or two later the e ress train came hey stood there silently until every passen- ger was aboard. ‘ Then Janey said—quietly, as though in re- sponse to something from him: ‘ “She is not here you see.” Ste hen changed, color. ' “S ei—who? What do you mean i” “I mean the young girl you were watching for; m sister’s late governess.” “ Wight new vagary have you got into your head now?” 5: ‘ f “ Nothin new ,unfortlmatel . But we will not discuss he subject in so pub lo a place. The train having gone that you were so anxious to take, and left you behind, perhaps you will ac- cept my sister’s hospitality for the night, and a seat in my carriaegie?” Stephen follow his wife to the carriage with- out speakiry . v He woul have assisted her in, but she fore- stalled him and, gathering up the reins, waited for him to take a seat by her side. ' In the meantime fears and conjectures were bus in his heart. e stole a furtive glance at his wife; but her face, though a trifle paler, looked much the same. Was this mere suspicion on her part, or had Irva betrayed him? - He knew eno h to understand that she had circumvented an baffled him. I How he hated her!‘ , “I could kill her!” he said to himself, in a rage, more fierce and deadly because he dared 've it no outward expression. “And I believe shall, some day.” They were approaching a rude bridge across a deep dark ravine. He could hear the water afghng over the jagged rocks, a hundred; feet ow. The im also came strong upon him to fling her over - “ You can make it appear to be an accident 1” suggested the devil, that was busy at his heart. ust before the fore-hoofs of the horse struck upon the bridge, the slender hand tightened upon the reins, and the docile creature sto pod. “ I think I ought to tell you ”—how cal and clear that voice rose above the tumult that raged within—“ I think I ought to tell you, Ste- phen, thatI have made my will; and hat you will not be benefitedhy my death. On the con- trary, the annual allowance that‘you have hith- erto ad fromi‘a estate will be lessened onahalf. Go onghar In 0 dienoe to that gentle command, Charlie trotted over the bridgg, and down the steep de- S hen’s heart Most stood still. Di she ~t his murderous intent, and say this to show its folly? L ‘ “ I believe she’s in league with the devil l” was his inward egaculation. Then agoau : “ You ve the right to do what you will with your own pro rt . ’ ‘Lglgly so far as I have the will to do what is ‘ One wouldsu pose, however, that your hus- band had as muc claim upon you as any one." “ One would naturally su so so, es. ’ Stephen smdied his wife 3 countenance for a moment. ' “ It is easy to see that you have been listenin to lying stories about me, Janey. Because haven’t always done ri ht, it don’t follow that I’m guilt of every ng. that’s laid to :13? charge. e girl you alluded to is a mere - venturess, as can be roved—” “Stop! Stephen; will not hear you blacken the name of an innocent girl, and simply because she is innocent. She never told me one word; I all I know I have obtained from other sources. .I heard, before I came up here, of the young ‘ girl you put under the care of a certain woman Brook yn, and the deception you practiced on her. I had no idea of her iden 'ty with mysis— ter’s governess until the day you met. our words, mr manner, aroused my suspicions, which her developments strengthened to certainty. More than that, I am convinced that there was some understanding between you , and Miss Weston, else why, were you at the V .degcit, on the watch for her was not on the watch. for her. Though I don’t suggose it is any use for me to deny it, or any of t rest of your c es.” . , , “ Lookback upon the pas and ask ourself . if you havefigiven- me any reason to re yupon 7’ your word. Stephen made no replyitoythis. ‘He was evi- , o dently alarmed at his wife’s discovery; this alarm being‘based on the most selfish and mer- cenary considerations There was silence between the two, until the carriage turned from the ublic road into the broad avenue that led to t e house. Then Janey spoke. “Stephen, for ten years you have been my husband only in name. When I first discovered your unfaithfulness to me, I virtual] caps from you, as you know. Still, I id not de- prive you of that for which you alone sou hit my hanadli' all these years you have en'oy a“ liberal owance from my estate. Asi e from this, I have paid your debts man times; I have overlooked your fr uent in delities, your shameless disregard 0 all truth and honor. Bocause I retained any lingering spark of the ' love I once had for you? I tell yen, no! Be- cause ! entertained any hope of our eventual reform? Any such hope as that 'ed long. ago. It was simply to kee you from ing from bad to worse, and mm worse to utter ruin. WhenI am convinced that the means afforded on are only an instrument in your hands for inflicting further wrong upon yourself and oth- P era, that will cease, also, and our separation Will. be complete.” ' There was no opportunity for Stephen to re- . ply, if he had felt inclined to do so. When his Wife ceased speakin , the came into full view teand MissWeston ‘ of magnum, on w ich were , nding in the bright moonli ht. “ ‘ The former came runmng down t e steps. ' ‘ “Wh , Janey! I was you. (1 Ste eu—I expecting him ‘ I think Janey must be gifted with second» idn’t know you were si ht,” said Stephen with a censtra'lned ion '11. , rd, for the simple reason A t ' I did not know it myself, until just before 1 - “ sent her no we started. But she was promptly on hand, w eh I consider very fortunate, as t a walk.” , I It is said the “ liars should have good memoi- ries.” Stephen forgot what he had said about rettuningogn the next train, or rather remem ~ bered it late. ' ’ Janey noted it; but she was too much scour tomed to these revarications tofeel any sur- prise; she certain y manifested none. , . » She simpl said: “ I ' er the strong that I should finlililgou there, as very fortunate~ very fortunate ' eed.” ' CHAPTER XXII. ' ACROSS THE OCEAN AND BACK AGAIN. , ‘ Wu will new transport ' the reader across the ' ocean to a London hotel, where, beside a chpeh‘ in] fire, sits a man not more than sixty, though his white hair makes him look some ears older. ‘ The table, beside which he sits,yis showed:- with pers and letters. He as an open letter inhis hand, whose worn ' . a -‘ enveIOpe is covered with postmarks,.and hr " whose contents, and the thoughts to which it gives rise, heissomuch absorbed as nation:- A ' ticefthe entrance of a quamtance of ours, Ric gm . “ Well, uncle, everything you mentioped has: been attended to, and we bid fair to start on. our trip to Germany tomorrow morning.” “ My dear boy I regret giving you so much ounfir man, an old aeg- arrin unnecessary trouble, but I am gomg’baik to the 1 United States by the next steamer. Richard lanced from the exoited face of the; 7 speakertogheletterhesfillheldinhish “You have :10de 216' II: i" am Mr Cameron , handed the latte-.1;e tohis nephew; f buzl’don’t know, as yet, whether it be good or Richard read the letter which consisted of” . oglldga few lines, through twice. There was a I 7 l of gity in the age that he lifted to those tently u m “ What do on ink of it i” ‘ , “ If you'llagn’t had so many such letterw” Here Richard paused, unwilling desolate heart. “ But this is different from an of the othem. ‘ ere a name and positive ad Don’t you see?” ‘ “ It will do no harm to go there at all eventa. God grant that you may not be disappointed.” “It is very generous in you to say that,. are giVem, Richard. But it will'make no diflerence in my“ I s. ' arrangements for portion, atall even 03' you Win have a son “My dear uncle as you have kindly allowed" I cannot forget that you are» . 3le to ’call you-«at ane sunce—n mine- on has "- denzgprre fgr meeghan 163ml, v already pecvv ' on ave test me ivin nae ev‘e - advantage that your own son, ’vgonldghave hall: rated- tting worried about v savedme ‘te' premonitionslmy to destro' ‘ ‘ V the new-born hopes that had papmns up. in . any right to ex»; .' ' as? .m “j .i . A . 1.1,], . ,t’ 5.39 N ft min must I Mr.;Cameron looked with fatherly pride and affection Into the face, glowing with manliness . and conscicus strength. - ~ . “No one would think that to look at on; even if they did not know you as well as i do. And that reminds me. limit, with these broad shoulders cannot ush my way in.the, world, I , made 0 .very poor material. tell you what it is,.uncle,;I mean to marry a ‘ or girl.” . _ “ But not one of low family, Dick; I should be ve sorry to have on do that. The girl, hersel may be all rig t, but the associations and influences that surround her will be sure to ‘ work, on evil. ‘To this I owe my desolate life, . so of pain and sorrow. I pray that.y'ou may never make so great, so sad a mistake. Newmn dear boy, I am sorry to deprive you of the p assure, of your prejected tour; but you; shall not lose it altogether: I will take care of' that. While any doubt restsu n m mind in regard to the matter mentione in this letter I , could not rest. It has been a long time on ‘the way,~as youwill see-by the date. So-we will. ” take passe by the first steamer.” ‘ ' Thcyhafiea ‘ . R 1,, ‘ v.' s 'whoselifehad ’ Igy-“fl‘ln'xiautledfrom herusttc . ,“Does Barbara Mr. Cameron. . y' . [Richard while \ , ’ " ; v .“Where does this person L f little shop short and pleasant passage; land- , ‘ ; infill New York nine days later. . Cameron scarcely waited for needful rest or refreshment, but started immediately for Edgecombe, from which the letter was ‘ _ I mailed, that had aflected him so strangel . Richard accompanied him. Though ~ heart ,‘i’m lledhimsostronl in 0th dir t' ’ hegsould not let him g y an er ec Ion. alone. His heart was full 0 ity as he sawhowrest— » lessaud excited his unc e grew as they neared ' “theplaoe of their destination. He had had so ' man anonymous letters on’ the samesubject, that 9 had no thought that it Would settle the doubts that so, tortured him, and he dreaded the effects of eveifiefresh disappointment on one 1: tall of so many) such. On’leavin the depot; they struck out across on open flel , and following the-directions given them there, soon found themselves in front the - small, low cottage, to which we introduced one an at the commencement of ounstory. r It ad lost'much of the neat, trim appearance it had then: the to was broke: and the vines L O I w just outside. , orth live here?” inquired Thevman looked puzzled. A 9‘ Is it blind Barby, ye mane?” r. A'man wastsplitti -‘_ ,::A:f.“rYS,es, she was bhnd, and her name is Bar- .7’ -‘ 980m 9. bit does she live here now, at . smut all! I heard say medicine was out'of her (head, like, an’ Miss Sutton tuck her to some doc~ _ tor’s place, or ruther.” , t v , . “ Sutton! Suttonlflrepeated Mr. Cameron, 1”“ excited We and manner “ what Sutton? “Washer Christian name Lucia, a , , ,,.“ I’m thinkin’ that was her name,;sur. I only , ‘ ‘ knew her as the leddy that livesinthe big white . house on'the hill-for did live there.” ‘ . _4 . v ’5“ Where is she?” , . “ That I couldn’t tell you sur,” said the man, with a. solemn shake of the head; “ she’s dead.” smiled at this non-committal reply, Mr. Cameron looked as though he was un- : joe‘rtain what to do text. .- :1‘.‘If this woman was Lucia Smitten,” he said to his as how ‘ “ sheis the person I have been try- ing topfind’ so many years, and who I am now ' more convinced than ever was at the bottom of all these troubles. But if sheis dead, and Bar- » “ g1”). Worth cannot be found, there is nothingto - as lees.” . . A pleasant, intellig‘fit-looking woman, with a baby in her arms, , come out of the house, ’ and stood listening to his conversation. She now spoke. . r . k “ Barney, . don’t believe but what Elsie Prin- le could tell the gentleman what he wants .to - w. You know she lived with Mrs. Sutton, ' and Went with her when she took blind Barby to New York.” p . live?” said Mr. Cam- el‘p‘né turning to the young woman. ‘ ‘ How does your woaing 1 ’; ‘, regions with Miss Weston?” , g .» . £1: 0 be quite frank, it hasn’t commenced yet. , oftobe p ' ? . c .. .,,WM.M.~.._»“. .. . ._ l q I I I On one side of) it was a, show window, in wh' h were displayed specimens of the various artic es sold Within. . (1 th d 1' th h, ‘ f As the o ne a cor; es 3. rin o a bell canal P9 ’ rp g She passed round back of the counter, to where her supposed customers stood. “I wish to see Miss Elsie Pringle.” “That is 111 name.” ' “ You live with the late Mrs. Sutton?” Elsie looked uneasy scanning more closely than she had hitherto done. the countenances of her visitors. ' ‘ “Well, yes, I lived with her—why?” “ Do you know what became of Barbara Worth commonly called Blind Barby, who went with Mrs. Sutton to New York last springa?” The uneasiness so plainly visible in lsie’s face, now changed to fear and distrust. “ N I don’t. I didn’t have nothin’ to do with her go n’. She peemed sort 0’ crazy; When we at to New York, she grew worse an’ Mrs. utton sent her to some doetor. 'l‘hat’s all I know ’bout it. Did you want to buyanything?” Here Richard said something to his uncle in a 10w voice who replied to him in the same tone. Then the latter turned again to Elsie. “ I have something of importance to say to you and must ask a private interview.” Elsie led the we , with visible reluctance, toa little room back 0 the shop. , It was evident to Mr. Cameron that she knew more than she was willing to admit, for fear of compromising herself though in what way was a puzzle to him. It almost seemed as if she was alarmed for her personal safe . _ ~ “ If there’s anythln wrong, she commenced, in an agitated voice, ‘ ’tain’t my fault. I Waited on Barby and did jest as Mrs. Sutton told me, and if an mischief has been done, I ain’t to blame for’ .” . Mr. Cameron was convinced by Elsie’s words and manner that some foul play had been at- tempted, it not perpetrated; but the‘flrst thing "done was to al ay her apprehensions. . “ You _are not going to be blamed for any- thing. Nor willyou be harmed; unless, indeed, you refuse to giVe me the information I am sure you possess. 0n the contrary if you answer my questions trul and honestly, you shall be liberally reward .” Elsie looked wistful]y at the bank-note that ~ Mr. Cameron took from, his pocket-book, saying: "‘ Of course, I’ll tell you anythin’ I know, sir.” “Well, the ,what' was rs. Sutton’s object in taking Bar era. Worth away among stran- g‘ers? " “ Well, sir, she said she wanted to consult some doctor about her.” ' . , “ I didn’t ask you what she said ,' I asked you what you believed her object to be? Mrs. Sut- ton isdead; you surely have no reason to fear her new?” . j “ I think ’twas because she was afraid she’d tell something; in fact, shewld me so.” The uncle and nephew looked at, each other. , “ She did? Now you tell me ou waited on Barbara; was her mind really ected, or was it simply a pretense on Mrs. Sutton’s ‘ art? Re- member that your only safety lies in ing per- fectl frank.” , “ ell, sir, there ain’t no denyin’ but what Barb was out of her head, but I think ’twas some bin? that Mrs. Sutton giveher that made her so. I minded that she always had them queer spells after she’d took some of the wine or cordial that Mrs. Sutton ke t bv her.” “ How did it seem to aflect er?” a “ At first, it made her ‘ddy an" crazy-like; . then she grew stu id», ,an’ d dn’t seem to take no he keeps a variety store in the village, sir. . ‘ I 75,011. Main street. on the right as you go down. ,, oil can’t miss it.” , Mr. Cameron put some silver in the chubby 7. handset the baby' then the two retraced their tha back to the'village. down :‘on the door of which was very can- lettered I u. fiygs- FANGY n I \. \: Main street, they'sooncame to a f -i l 'l notice 0 nothin nor nobody. A good dealaof thg tiling. I dressed an" undressed her as I would a a . “ Beyal’ore Barbara went to New York, did“ she live uite alone?” “ es, sir. She lived in a little cottage out of the village, that belonged to Mrs. Sutton.” “ Did you ever know of her having a child with her, a girl?” ‘} No, sir, only Mrs. Sutton’s daughter. She had the care of her, I think, from a baby.” “How old is this, daughter?” . / r “I couldn’t tell exactly. I should say she East be eighteenor nineteen; something along ere air. “You think this girl is Mrs. Sutton’s child?” _ “She was always called so. It ain’t more’n ‘ ht years ago since Mrs. Sutton come to gecombe: so daughter was quite agirl when I first saw her.” ‘ Mr. Guarantees 3 attentively atthe speak; o ‘3 er. If she had any doubts on the subject or ’knowledge of facts, beyond. what i ‘ . stated. = she was evidently determined to keepthem to ’ herself. a woman out from a room in the rear. j ; « It is our old acquaintance Elsie, looking very ' much the same as when We first met her, with - v the exception ofa slight limp. ‘ “ How. long has Mrs. Sutton been dead?” “About six months.” . . t “ Where did she die, here?” , “ 911, no sir. she was killed on the cars last summer. presume you heard of it; two _‘ trains coming together, owin’ to some mistake...» about the time. There was. a terrible loss of , life. It Was a great esca for me. I was sit- ting beside Mrs. Sutton 0 y a few minutes be- fore; but there was a lady on board on her way ‘ to be overness in a family she was acquainted _ with— leg Lane, I think her namewas—an’ she told me to givo her uiy lace, so I tooka seat on the other side. I h n’t much more’n ot’ , comfortably fixed when the trains met. rs. Sutton an’ this lady were so crushed that if it , hadn’t been for their dress they couldn’t have . been told apart, an’ the only hurt I had was on 'i m foot.” ~ . Cameron listened very gIravely to this. “ It was a terrible death. knew Mrs. Sut- ton some years ago, when her fate romised to , be very diflerent. Now I want find this blind woman, Barbara Worth. Where did Mrs. Sutton take her when she left New York 2'” “ I didn’t o with her; I stayed with some re- latives I in the city while..she was one. She told me, when she got back, that she’ ‘ with a doctor, in some r- lace on the Hudson. Hengnfi more’n two was after that she was . “ Did she leave no letters or papers that could give any clew to this doctor’s name and address?” I Elsie glanced at the bank-note, and "then at i the face of‘the speaker.’ , “I don’t know: perhaps I might find some- thinl’fot the kind.” d , ~ . I 1 you can, an will give it to me, she] “ not onl be t] ob} but Will ve on this fiftDy-do r bill: ted, - 31 y . Elsie looked at the note that was held up to - . her, sigma? sin}: omgrgghugti then ris- .. 1n wi rl ' a curtain atgthe further end of the room. ' She soon reappeared with an empty directed . envelope m her hand, which she handed to Mr. Cameron. = ' ‘ It bore this inscription: “ Dr. John Garvin, Poughkeepsie, N. Y.” “ This is the doctor’s address with whom Bar— bars. Worth was left?” = ‘ “ m- n V * I D 7 >4 Rising to his feet, Mr. Cameron put the enve— ‘~ lope into his breast-pocket, and the bill in the , ea er hand held outto receive it. - We must go directly back to the city, Dick. If we hurry we can catch the train.” - CHAPTER XXIII. ‘ ~ mcmn’s vxsrr T0 runner mu " Ir Was night when Mr. Cameron and his nephew got back to the city; and as anxious as the former was to follow up the elew he had re-_ ', ceived, he was obliged to'dei'er it until another : da . . .. , , 'Fhey went to a'h‘otel. ‘ . 1 After supfier Mr.13ameron went to his. room : to obtain , emuch needed rest, but Richard ; weal: "132:3 to selel Hannah. L 'e , , or w' remember Hannah Prout in whose lodging-house Irva found refuge on hgr j. escape. 51 The good woman was surprised and delighted ; to see him. . . Among the man questions thatggpured in ' uplon him, she foun time to inquire ut Irva, . ,- ,w 0 held a. warm place in her heart. . ‘fIs she still at our sister’s, Mr. Richard? I hsv’n’t heard not In’ from her or seen any of 2 your folks to inquire.” , ' ' ‘ '1 . “Ipresume she is- thereiswhere I left her. Iexpect to see her morrow. Uncle Charles 5 has Some business up the Hudsonhand I’m goin .as far with him as sister Kate’s. What shall tell Miss Lane from you?” - a; " “Give her my love, for one thing. And tell her that she mustn’t forget her promise to VI; came an’ see me whenever she comes-down.”- ,: “I will, and I won’t torget»my promise to brin her, either.” “ hatnonsense, Mr. Richard. But you al-' ways will have your Poke.” _ _ ‘ It’s no joke at al , Hannah ” laughed‘Rich~ ard, as he ran down the steps; 1‘ When you see. boil,1 ytpu’lé see me.” , his, » v . .' 'c ar was as good as word: reaching " Forest Hill about noon, in the midst of the first snow-storm of the so , r I e; ' 'b . - I left her 5 ‘ I that part ., 7“. g, . «5:1: .7, z), .._’~’.“,‘; 7 i" * .VAs he rods 11 to‘the door. he'looked eagerly catch a glimpse of the form, so often present in his slee mg and waking dreams. But the blinds, were c 05te and there, were no signs of life in f, the building. ‘ 4 He found Kate all alone, with the exception V 0f the children. ' “Janey went back this morning, and as John had some business in' the city, e went with er. You must have passed on the way. You ' Spoil? about uncle Charles; why didn’t he stop ,w1. ' ou?” “ e had some business beyond. I presume he will stop on his way back. You know the Search he has been making so many years; he thinks he has “obtained a clew now that will lead to some definite conclusion.” Kate looked disturbed. She had alwa 8 enter- tained hopes that Mr. Cameron won (1 make Richard his heir; loving her brother too well .not to feel uneasy at a discovery so likely to prove adverse to his interests. ' “ Whatvhas he discovered? Anything of im- por oe'l “I don’t feel at liberty to-state just what it is, even if I understood it fully, in all its bear- ings. But, however it may result, I hope that it will remove the cruel uncertaint that has tortured so long one of the noblest saris that ever beat. ” » ‘ I During this conversation, Richard had kept his eyes and ears on: thealert, thinking that something would be said or occur that would ‘ lead tothe subject that was uppermost in his ‘ a H thoughts. . change. ‘ ,_ He now said: " “ By the way, Kate, I called on Hannah when I was in the city. I found the good old body full of'lodgers, and as busy and hop y as a bee. She sent a message to Miss Lane, 5 not forget to give her.” Kate’s countenance underwent a noticeable " Miss Lane, as she called herself is gone. Geor e Lane cameon from the West, and de- C‘lar that she was not his sister, nor any way related to him I” . Kate wastotally unprepared for the eflfect of words on her brother. 1 He started to his feet, confronting her with a 02k that she never forgot. “And you sent her away?” I ~ _ course. You don’t think I would keep her after learning the deceit she had racticedl But it was a great surprise to us I was ne‘verso deceived in any one in my life!” ‘ In your favorable estimation of her charac- -- tor—and I know from your own lips that it 0 ‘- figzggvorable—wou were not deceived in her, Kate’s face flushed hotly. = ‘ x “ I never thought to hear my brother defend such conduct as this! In my opinion, a young girl that could plan and carry out such a de- iberate and systematic deception must be very depraved l” “ It was not her plan, it was mine.” “ Yours!” “Yes, mine. It was my sug tion that she enter your family in the way 8 e did enter it. In fact, I had to exercise all my ’powers of per- SIIfiSIQll to induce her to consent.’ - Richard Harrington! if any one else had toidme that you would do, or countenance such a thmg, I wouldn’t have behaved it I” It Was a peculiarity of Richard’s that he saw a ludicrous side to most everyth' , and the amazement and horror in his sisters~uphfted eyes and hand s brought a roguish smile to his lips. ' ' “You see. Kate, you may know aperson all a your life, and be deceived in him. I “u may seem very funny to you,” was the indignant rejoinder, “ but to me it is perfectly " , dreadful l” “ That is very possible; only let your censure fall where it belongs, on me. The sin and foil _ are mine, and I don’t propose to share them wi any one.” ' . “ It’s all very well for you to say that, but ,it’s my belief that she came here for the ex— ’* gross purpose of entrapping you mto marrying , or.” “ You were never more mistaken in your life Kate. If you’ll listen to me with any degree of ’ calmness, " I will tell you ' t how the whole : l“assoon as Irvahadbeen withyou a few and on felt interested in her, as I felt sure‘you v wou d be. I intended to tell you, just as it was. thing came abOut,.and all ere is to it.” v ‘Here'Richard related to his sister what the reader already knows. ' “It was not in intention to leave you in ignorance of‘these " he said, in conclusion; toward the sc col-reom window's, hoping to ; hat I must . ’ turned to New York on the next train. . directo days, ,. But. M I, came—and; Various other- ' necessar to mention now, deterred ' t gs ,n me. As you know, was called away Very un- expectedly. I leftlwlth the intention'of writing you—about it, after I had been away aiew weeks, or else defer it until my re , which 'I suppos- ed would be in three or four months.” For the first time in her life, Kate Was seri- ouslyvangry with her brother. | “ hat you tell me makes it no better for her, 5 and much worse for on. ‘ What right had you l to place in my fami y a woman, picked up in ' the street, an ‘ of whose character you knew i nothing?” . ‘ l “ Kate, answer me this one question: Did you ever see anything amiss in this young lad while she was with you? Was not her conduc , in eve respect, gentle, modest, and womanly? You to d me, ourself, that the children never behaved so wel as they did when under her care and influence. " / Kate remembered what she said, and her ‘ brother’s allusion to it on! increased her anger. “ I don’t care if I did It was a, contrived plan, on her- part, ‘to make you think'her a piece ofperfection; and it seems she succeeded l” ‘ Here Kate’s excitement culminated in a burst bf tears. ' Richard waited, with all: the patience he could buster, until thishad passed. Then he said: “I sent her a letter, directed to this place; lid she get it?” ' , ~ “It came on the day she left. I was just on the point of sending it to her, when I heard she was gone.” I ' f ‘ This was the truth, though -‘not the whole truth, as Kate well knew. In her brother’s - resent mood, she did not dare to let him know ow long the letter was in her hands before Irva’s departure. ‘ “ One question more: Where did she gel” “I don t know where she went.” “ Do you mean to tell me, Kate, that you don’t gnaw” what direction she took ’whe'n she left ere? ‘ , “John gotthe'impression that she returned to New York: I never inquired where she was going; and I am very glad, now, that I didn’t.” Kate looked at her brother in amazement. In all her life, she had never known him to betra so much feeling and excitement as now. ' _ He walked up and down the room for some moments without speaking. , . Then, suddenly turnin , he confronted her. . “Kate! I love that 'g'ir with all the strength of m’ytmanhood; I never knew how well until now! I will search the wide world over, but I will find her; and I give you fair warning, if lam so fortunate as to win her affections, that shall make her my wife!” . ’ In spite of his sister’s ‘entreaties, Richard re- . In the next Herald Was the following ‘fper- mush” IF IRVA Will send her present address to the Herald office, she will greatlfi relieve the anxie scram» of her Brennan. ' CHAPTER XXIV. cmson’s SEARCH—SURPRISE AND MUTUAL ' EXPLANATIONS. - WE will now follow Mr. Cameron, in his ef~ artist}? discover the whereabouts of Barbara. 0 . ' 0n reaching Pou'rhkeepsie, he searched the for the residence of Dr. John Garvin' and ha 11% found it, proceeded to the street an . ; m - n mber' ‘ icated. ’ t Was a ramin , old-fashioned building, in of the city, situated some a thinly-settled pa distance from the road. ' - It might have worn a, pleasanter look at a- pleasanter season of the year, but now the-bare branches of the few straggling trees thatsur- rounded it, together with the neglected appear- ance of the and out-houses, gave. it. very desolate and dreary air. I ‘ A red-armed, slatternly-looking servant an- swered the bell, ushering him into a small room at the rear. “ ' a “Is Dr. Garvin at home?” “ He ain’t fur ofl? ” was the rather ambiguous j reply of the girl, who stood staring at with open eyes an mouth. , ‘ “ Give him this card; and say that I am wait- ing‘to see him.” he girl looked curiously at the little piece of pasteboard in her hand. “ What name shall I till him, surl” . “ The name is on the card. ‘Hand it to him, and be quick about it,“ was the response.‘ ' The girl {Elegy fifteen, utes ’me, 811‘, I said. «3 allele the. 1: £133.51: €115 p f I assume , res us: me, yin; r r, A l the future, built. but,» W . _ did she call the pencil. here? . You a ‘ and she gave me to un erstand that the ' read the following: ‘ Cameron walked impatiently. ‘aand ,‘ down the floor of the little room that Dr.«Gnr- Vin dignificdbythenameof his “ rivate ofl‘lce." ‘ " ' The dust lay thick upon the she ves that lined one side of it, on which were various bottlest jars, most of them em ty. . , . . . The pen had ruste into the'em‘pty inkstand . i that stood~on the pine desk in one corner of the room, and a pile of old newspapers lay in the old rickety chair oppo . 1 a peanut nce. Site. At last the doctor made his -- He had, evidently, 'been c m from some ‘ rou h, outdoor labor; his hair and face bearing ’ * ~ ', evi once of being lateI combed and washed. ‘ ; He wore a loose, fl y dressing-gown, whose _ < bright colors contrasted oddly With his ' linen and coarse, dirty boots. ' Assumin a professional air, he took his seat at the d , making an effort ‘to remove the rusty pen from the inkstand. Failing in this, he drew the folds of his dressing-gown as far as 1 possible over the boots. which still insistedcn making themselves visible. v . . “ W at can I do for you, sir?” . “ About six months ago, more or less, a blind- woman was placed under your care, by the name of Barbara Worth?” ' ' A change passed over the doctor’s face; its rigi , solemn aspect gave place to a look of cu- r riosity and interest. " I “ A blind .woman: was placed unden my care about that time, sir, but not by that name." fghNo matter; that is her true name. Isshe m 6‘ f on ‘ y) . e is. suppose, you are, one of the people ~ she got me towrite to?” (l he wrote me a letter-some time ago; but I > W was out of the country, audit was several , é monthsin reachin me.” . . . - ‘ . , 3' “ Well, sir,” sai the doctor, crossin' hislegs, ‘ and assuming a confidential tone Manner, “that was the most curious circumstance that ever happened to me in all my born days. 4 “ You see, last spring I put in usual silver-9 tiseme‘nt in the paper, as how (1 take a few» « patients to board; vin’ ’em every and attention, as always do, sir. The fore ' rt of last summer, a ladydrives up’to the our, source and genteel a person as you’d wish see 811‘. _ “ About how old?” {interrupted Mr. Cameron. , ,. .g ' ,“.I should say about fifty; though it’s hard» tong a woman’s age, sir... She wasn’t any ' younger, I’ll darerswoarr Well, she had a blind L woman With her, insane. as she said. and p from her appearance at the time I saw no rea— ~ son to.doubt her word. She told me had some very queer notions about herself and others that made her very'troublesome, and wanted me to take charge of , her.— As she 5’ _ mised to pay a good price, and ever seemed fair and square, I consented.- . .1 she, went. awayaand left her'; and if you’ll: believe‘x ., . ven’t _seen or heard a woni from y ; her since! She paid three months in. admoe " , , ’cordmg to my invariable rule, sir, or I should , _ have sent her to the almshcuse long ago._.~ Irma ' ' tellin’ Mrs. onl this morning that I couldn’t ail‘ord to keep eunuch longer.,'l’veu. I gotafamily of my own. . r , can’taflordto .' lodge and feed other people’s fos'nothin’.” ‘ i ' Y. For the last three months poorBarbylmd -" I’ ‘ made herself very useful by taki care of 1% doctor’s numerous progeny; but ‘ . Cameron. ” was in ignorance of this. , . i, r ' 7 - v? “You need have no tests on that scoref”he‘ r: v * "1 This assurance produced every visible-ester om‘tl‘ire limiter); tom; an ’5 he; . . _. cry iberal 0 you, in sir ,njd . .. rubbinghis hands softly mete}, ’ ,. , _. “ What was the name of. this lady: and what I“ say it was not Worth?” ,. - . . l , “ Well. an. the la called herself - smith; ~ tient‘? . sheibrought was her sister Mary. 4; ‘ that is the name I put upon my books, sir.” " i Here the doctor reached up, a v book from the top of the desk. manning 1‘9- ,' 3: “ Yes. here it is: date and all. you Bee; 8115’? ' Mr. Cameron looked over his wilder and V _ ‘ , ~“July15th,18—-—. ‘ , - sa;Received this day Mary Smith blind and!» e. ' ‘ . “Bbard paid, three months in . Julia. Ann Smith, of New York, to'whoml coma Illuminations areto be addressed." «. . . ‘ ‘ httem'sir "’ ‘ ‘Wrotehermore thanadm y W- said thcecloctor, cl ' the back and returning 1" it place; “ but ver a word did-I. l dryly. " The lady w: 0 gave that nam . address was killed on the cars, two r three , _ ' weeks after.” I v ‘ “ You don’t saysol Well, that accounts for it.” if . “This blind woman’s name is not Smith, but i ‘Worth,” continued Mr. Cameron. "‘That’s what she has always insisted on, , , she beganto et better, sir: but I thought your Wlfe, ShOWm _ f ' since ' ’, it was only one of er crazy notions.” ‘r ' ’ t “ What is her condition of mind now?” ;. V Cr i i _ . "J dare say not,” said Mr. Cameron, a little 531181199? ' as her ; wronged , secret marriage. But my father, a Bid, haugh- was my beloved and lawful wife!‘ If I her, it was in persuadin ty man, was stricken down with the illness that terminated his life, and I supposed the necessity for concealment would be only for a few months, at the ion st.” ' r“. hLiNnBARBARA’S’SECRETZ - ‘ “This, naturally; threw us a great deal toge~ her into a. , ther; andflnally she startled me by a assion- ate avowal of her love. I told her t at my heart was buried in the grave of Alice, and that I should never marry. , “ Finding me proof against all her persuasions and blandishments, she threw off, in a measure, “ And t e woman who told Alice that she was ‘ the 111%“ She had Worn, making use of this re— mation of the trut of or statement?” 1 rs and letters in c‘onflr- markable 9313119851011, but Which is no puzzle to me now: ‘You will.have cause to regret, to the H I will ten you. Yam baton I saw Alice, | da of your life, that you have twice scorn— “Well, sir, when she first come, she was sort When I was a mere boy m1 was entrapped. into " O’ stupid, and, at times, wanderin’; but she has been improvin’ every week, until now you v1 - matter with her. She tells a queer story about '. r » ’ herself; but mayhap its truer than I thought it ‘ W88. 3 name anyway. For a long time she was con- ‘3, . . tinually pesterin me and Mrs. Garvin to write ' I r .to some placein onnecticut. At last I wrote, v I just to satisfy her, and thinkingkperhaps, there 53‘ . might be something in it. But e letter came ' ’ back ‘uncalled for. ” “ What name did she give you?” ' The doctor again referred to his book. ‘g _,“Here it is,sir. , ‘Miss Irva Sutton, Edge- combe, Connecticut.” ' a , Mr. Cameron looked at it in silence. “New I want to seethis blind woman, Bar- " bars. Worth. I prefer to do so unannounced, if i ' her mind isstron enough for it to ,produce no ‘ ,unfavorable retrofit” I “ I don’t think it will harm her, sir,” said the doctor, risingto his feet. “ She dont seemto . act quite natural first; but she is noways excita- ‘ ‘ ble, onl melanc oly like. She’ll set by the houran' not speak, unless somebody speaks to nh'er. She is in the nursery; it sort 0 amuses ~ her to look after the children a bit. Will you “ ., ice by?! there, orehall I send for-her tocome out ‘ ere , “ Take me to wherever she is. I wish to see _. her unannouncedk and entirely alone.” ‘Dr. Garvin led be way to a sparely-furnished, but not uncheerful room, I There, seated by one of the windows, was our 1 'old friend. Barbara; looking little as she did when we first saw her. . Her checks were thin and bloodless, and her \ hair perfectly white; while her whole counteo names and attitude indicated a sorrow and de- ection that touched with pity Mr. Cameron’s cart, as he looked at her. A ear-old baby lay sleeping across her knee, ~ about the room. ; :- ' “Simply mention my name to her, and then ' ’ 1, leave us,” said Mr. Cameron. Low as this was spoken, it reached Barbara, as couldbe seen by the sudden turning of the j head toward the e where the speaker stood. ‘ , , Dr: Garvin the baby from or knee, say- - in : “ g‘I’ll take Artyto his momma. Here’s a gen- = tleman to seetyou; Mr. Charles Cameron.” At the men on of that name, Barbara arose toher feet, sinking back into her chair again, I trembling in every limb. ' Mr. Cameron s: the doctor to leave the As soon as they were quite alone, Mr. Cam- . eron took a seat in front of her, looking in pity ‘ and alarm upon the wreck before him. r “ Praydo not to yourselfso Mrs. Worth. I am your frien , and would ladly think you .mine. -I got our letter on] a utthree weeks - ago. 2 I was London at 9 time. I sailed in ‘_ the next steamer for this country, and have i been searching for you ever since. In fact, I ' have been searching for you many years. You say, in your letter, that have a daughter: did you truly?” . 7 . x ‘ “ hen the otter was written you had; but ‘ itis a lung, long time ' since I’ve seen or heard from my pretty nursluifi. I feel as if I had ‘been in 0. long and tron ed sleep, a sleep from ,. which} had tried to woken many times. , f‘ That is all past now; do notthink of itany , more. Ha ier days are dawning for you, for -.:us both. TE; schemin brain, that has caused usbotli so much troub e, is powerless to work " us any further il : Lucia Sutton is dead I” ,. Barbara bowe her head upon her hands. , ., a “Dead! And I have feltso hard, so bitter to- .Ward herl God be pitiful- to her, and to us all!” “ Newthat she has beyond all human “i 3 We will t her sins and follies rest with her; of them only so far as it be u straighten out this tangled We ‘ of mutual mistakes and misunderstandings. T --You' in. your letter, of the dis ce 1 have \ : \ A > g l i. It seems that she told the truth about her ‘ room, which he (1 d, taking the children with ‘ mm ' Mrs. Sutton then lived, ut only to find that m wouldn’t hardlyythink there was anythin’ the , I‘ . and our or five other children were playing 37 your name. As G livearyou‘r marrying a woman, pro to in character, and several years m senior. lived with her only a few weeks. hou b all the usual forms were gone through with, s e was not legally m wife as she had a husband when I married or. i should have gone through the formality of a divorce had I not been desirous of keeping the whole thing from my father, who I knew would never don my associating his name with that of suc a person. “ I first met Alice at Mrs. Sutton’s with whom she lived as a sort ofcoxgganion and attendant. You, who knew and lov her, will easily credit the impressiou she made on me—an im ression that deepened with every succeeding in rview until I resolved to secure her beyon the possi- bility of loss. Chance favored me. Mrs. Sut- ton was called away, leaving Alice in char e of the house. She remained awa two or t weeks; and so successftu did urge my suit that before her return I had persuaded Ahce to consent to a secret marri . “ Mrs. Sutton was the Widow of a man I es- teemed very highly. After her return, I con- tinued my visits at her house. At last, fearing from her manner that she' was misconstrui them, I told her of my marriage to Alice an my reasons for keeping it private for the pres- ent, very foolishly, as nowsee; I also made a confidante of her in regard to (fly former mar. rings—if marria it could be ed. ‘ From what have learned since, I know that she considered my marriage to Alice as a great wron done to herself. But so well did she suc- ceed 1n concealing her feelings that I never once suspected it. She professed the utmost affec- tion for Alice and sympathy for me, and will— ingness to aid us to the extent of her power. She gave‘us every facility for seeing each other and when, a. few months later, I was summon home by my father’s apparent nearness to death, I left my young wife under her care and pro-, tection as confi ently as I would have left her in ours. “I found my father very feeble, but much better than when my sister wrote me' _ once I strong mind so weakened ,by a e and sickness that he could hardly endure to ve me out of his sight a moment. “ In this we. several weeks (passed. One da , as I was won ering wh I di n’t have a rep y tomy last letter toA ce I received one from Mrs. Sutton sa ing that my wife had died, after giving birt to a still-born babe—that the sudden appearance 'of a woman, who claimed to be my w: 9, had ven Alice such a shook that she lived only a ew hours after. “ What m feelings were at this intelligence, I will not at ,mpt to describe. “ I started immediatel for Lindenville, where wife’s mother had made her appearance an , claimin the body of her daughter, taken it awa . rs. Sutton solemnly assured me that she ad not the faintest idea whither you had taken it, or even where you lived; and as I knew of no motive that she could have for de- ceivin me, I placed the fullest reliance on what she to (1 me.” “ I left a letter with Mrs. Sutton for you. It contained my full address, to ther with a strong a peal to you for the that my straiten circumstances made me ill able to care for,” explained Bar “ She never gave it to me.” “ I had what purported to be a reply, stating that you could do nothing for it, an advising me to let Mrs. Sutton adopt it, as she had offer- ed to do.” . “I wrote you nothing of the kind. In fact, I didn’t know, at that time, that the child was livin . Far from takin the‘course you sup- poseFI should have cons dered it as a most re- cious gift, which nothing could have indifc me to relin uish. ,The love and com ionship of the child of my lost Alice would Eggs com ort- ed me as nothin else could. , , “As it was, was, nearly heart-bmken.‘ All the comfort I had was to talk with Mrs. Sutton about my lost darling; she all the timo express- ing the greatest sympathy for me in my cruel bereavement. I I ~ a ove.’ “.But.I ascribed it to the excitement under which she seemed to be laboring, and thought no more about It. It.was an interruption to our friendship, however; and as I left Lindenville soon after, we never met again. I 9‘ My father being now dead, and In only sis-- ter married to a man in New York,% disposed of my estate in, Maryland, and removed thither. “ About five years later, I was summoned to the death-bed of the abandoned woman with whom my troubles began. “In an agony of fear and remorse, she dis- closed to me the fact that Mrs. Sutton had hired ‘ her to come to my wife with the story of my former marriage to her; bringing forward let- ters and pa rs to make ood her claim. She said, also,.t at Alice’s c_h1 d, a daughter, was born alive, and was still living, the last she heard from it two years before. That Mrs. Sutton had taken charge of it, sending it away to nurse to' some remote and obscure village, whose name and location she did not know. ‘ “ You will readily surmise that I lost no time in going to Lindenville but only to find that Mrs. Sutton had removed a year before, leaving no clew to her whereabouts. V - “I then advertised; offering a liberal reward to any one who would give me any information that would lead to the iscovery of the child, or . the woman who had stolen her. V , “The largeamount offered brought me let- ters from various parts of the country; all of them purporting to have seen or heard of some woman with a child, and under circumstances that led them to conclude it was the one I was seekin . But, though I attended personally to everyt ing that held out the faintest hope’of success, it was only to meet with fresh. disep~ pointment. “I had one anonymous letter. The hand- writing was evidently disguised, but there were certain peculiarities about it that made me think it was from Mrs. Sutton. - It stated that ‘ I should never find the child I was se'ekin until to see her living would be far worse t an to mourn her dead. ” “Thanks to my constant and watchful care ,she failed to carry outaher threat. In spite of her bad teachings and worse example, Irva is a child of which any father might be prou ,” put in Barbara. ’ “ Irva? that was the name given me by Dr. Garvin; Irva Sutton. Then she went by Mrs. Slit?“ “m” i Ed be Wm es; every one 11 gecom sup n to be her own child. Not long after the death of Alice, my sight began to fail me—-I think I must have wept it away. This, together with my poverty, left me he £1) . and entirely at her mercy). She offered take care of the child and me, ut only on condition that I gave her full control of Irva until she reached the a of womanhood, leaving her to sup , until t en, that she was her own child. I consented, on condition that I should have the care of my daughter through her infancy and chil - ood, an that when she e a woman she would reveal to her the secret of her birth and the relation I sustained to her. She solemnly promised to do this, and I, in turn, promised to cave the revelation to her. i " “ When Irva was five ears old, I became en- tirely blind. Lovely in arm and soul, she was the sole 33% and comfort of m lonel heart, and I clung or with a strengt of ' ectlou that I had never bestowed upon her mother. And though she never dreamed that 1 was other than her nurse, she returned my tenderness and dc»- votion with grateful affection. ' I “As years went on, various things occurred to shake my confidence in Mrs. Sutton’s truth; and I be an 'to think that on might not be the hard an evil man she be represented. In an unguarded moment she had let fall words that made me think she had some feeling of rsonal ill—will,ragainst-you. This together w th Mrs. Sutton’s indifleren an , at times, positive aversion to lrva me 9 me often very uneasy. But, blind and helpless, I could onlylwaitwhop- in that she woul redeem her hen, I ound that she intended to slay, if not to , v evade. this. I decided to again rem (iron that _ x a ' r I BLIND BARBARA’S SECRET. 25 you had a daughter. and her claim upon you. “ As soon as Mrs. Sutton knew of this letter, i was seized with the strange mental affection under which I have labored until the last three months. I must have been very ill When I left 'Edgecombe, as Ihad not the slightest recollec— ti- in of it. Indeed, it was only at intervals that r 1 had any consciousness of what was passing arouhd me. When it fully returned, I found myself here, alone, among strangers.” “When did you see my daughter last?” “ I couldn’t tell you. I remember trying to vspeak to her, and how distressed l was at not being able to do so, but where, or when, Ican— not say.” " She was in Edgecombe when you wrote me?” “ Yes; and some weeks after.” “Then she must be there, or in that vicinity. Or if gone away, some one there will know her whereabouts. I shall surely find her. Now the sooner we get away from here the better. This is no place for the mother of Alice. My home, from henceforth, is yours. I am your son, and you must let me care for you as such.” CHAPTER XXV. momn’s DISCOVERY. » WE will now return to lrva, who has found a gage and pleasant home with the Sisters of St. 0 11. Sister Melicent was an old schoolmate of Mrs. Sully’s, the two having kept up, as far as prac- ticable, the warm and loving intercourse if their early years. ' . She received Irva very kindly, Installing her, in the course of a. week as assmtant teacher it the orphanage connected with the institution. It was considerable of a puzzle to Irva to de cide what- name to call herself. She felt an aversion to that of Sutton; the one she had at an med she felt she had. no right to bear. “‘ I must have some name, ’, she thou ht. She finally concluded to take that 0 Worth “ Poor Barby would be deli hted,” she said t4 herself, with a half—smile th t ended in a sigh “ How I do wish I knew where she was, an: how it is with her.” Her th hts often reverted to Richard Would he miss her on his return and make any effort to find her? Or would absence, new Scenes and countries, make him forget her very existence? However that might be, she should never forget him. Irva always ended by chiding herSeIf fan thinking of him at all. ' “ He was very good to me,” she thought, “but he would be good to any one who need!“ his 91 or was-in trouble.” ’ ' She tten to Mrs. Sully in regard f-‘l her safe arrival and prospects, receiving a you kind re 1y. , ' One ay she had a line from Janey, notifying her of her return to the city. I . One of the sisters gave it to her, saying that the girl that brought it was waiting outSIde to see her. _ It was Ellen, good, faithful Ellen, who had been so kind to her when she was at Mrs. Ha‘ Verstraw’s. ' Ellen’s delight was very visible-her smiling face being more eloquent than even her tongu a. “ Sure, an’ it is you Miss Irva, darlin’. Mr s. Sully—:it’s with her I’m li'vin’——towld me you was. here but it seemed too good to be thrue, m It dldl Och! but ’twas a long an’ weary wait 1 had at me Sister’s! an’ it’s well—nigh distracted l was whm I found ye didn’t come. In the mor- mn’ I wmt over to Mrs. Haverstraw’s to inquire afther ye. Mrs. Haverstraw stuck to it that you was gone, but I didn’t belave her. I though! that‘there was some deviltry at the bottom m It. So I wint to Mrs. Sully, an’ towld her the. Whole story. I didn’t spare her scamp of ii usband, aither. What does she do but go an ave a long talk with Mrs. Ha verstraw. I don’t know what was said on either side, but Mrs Stilly was convinced that you had got away, an thatMrs. Haverstraw did not know where yet “’98. We both concluded that you had some friends you’d one to. "It’s often ’ve thought of ye, but niver 8 Word did I hear, good or bad, till Mrs. Sully 901119 back from visitin’ her sister. Thin s-hc togl'ld me where you was. An’ here ye are, safc an. happy, glory be to God l” . . Irva s grateful heart echoed the pious eJacula , tion of the sim le-hearted girl. I‘Did Mr. S 1y return with his wife?” ‘Not be, indeed! I hear she’s washed he). feuds of him intirel . An’ it’s meself that hope: is thrue, the black carted vil’inl” ‘ . “ He is a verybad man,” responded Ina. “ ' k V , “9361' went to see him again.” ‘ ‘jNiver you fear that. Miss Irva. dear: hil, / won’t dare to throuble ye,~ while Mrs. Sully'i your fri’nd, I’ll be bound! If there was iver 3;! angel out of heaven she’s one! Just see wha ! she’s done with Mrs. Haverstraw! If any on 2 had told me that there could be such a (hang: in her I wouldn’t have belaved it possible: ai‘ it’s her work, ivery bit of it. As fur Mrs. Hm ‘ erstraw, she don’t think there’s her aquil in tho whole world, an’ it ain’t no wonder. aither. .l was in the room once when she talked to her; so mild, an’ sweet, an’ encouragin’, it would hav! milted a heart of stone, that it would! An’ nov she’s got her a place as under nurse in the hos pital, where she gives so much satisfaction that the sisters and doctors think she is wonderful." When Richard reached New York he went. di rectly to his sister J aney’s; unfolding to her al his troubles, hopes and fears; to which she lis tened quietly, without making any comments “I believe Kate knows where she’s,”he said, in conclusion. “ From what she told me, I should judge he! to have no knowledge whatever in regard to it. ' Richard had not the faintest suspicion that his sister knew where Irva was, but there was somethin in the tone in which this was spoken Ehat ma e him turn an inquiring look upon her ace. “My dear Jane , have you the faintest idea as to where, or w ither th1s young lady went when she left Forest Hill '9‘” . “ I am confident that she went to New York.” Here the two were interrupted, very much to Janey’s relief, who was scru ulous about speak- ing the exact truth, but w 0 had not decided that it would be prudent to tell her brother all that she knew. The next day Janey received two letters; one from Mr. Cameron, containing much that the reader already knows the other from Irva. The latter was as f0 ows: “DEAR Mas. SULLYt—I send you the inclosed ad~ vertisement that I cut from yesterday’s Herald. and which I think is from your brother Richard. He was very 00d to me when I was in great trouble, and thong I know that he would have been just as good to any one else, under the same circumstan- ces. I am just as grateful. “ I should like to comply with his request, but as I wish to act with erfect openness, I write to you, askinglyou to let hlm know where I now am. “ I ave great confidence in you, believing that you will do what is {light and for the best. “ Gratef y and sincerely y:an “ VA WORTH.” The mingled frankness and simplicity of this called a. smile to J aney’s lip, while the confi- ldeuce it indicated went straight to the generous cart. ‘ After a moment’s thought, she crossed over to where her brother was sitting and gave it to m. Richard turned toward his sister a face abso- lute Cyoradiant with he an jpzy. “ d bless you, ans l on don’t know what a weight you have hfted from my heart.” Then glancing at the letter again, to make sure of t e address, he seized his hat and turned to the door. “ Stay, Richard!” interposed Janey. “I will not ask whither you are going, for there is no need. But, before you go, I have a question to ask you.” . Richard turned back. “ What is it, Janey?” “ Do on intend to marry this girl?” “If s e 'will marry me, yes.” ' “ I have just had a letter from uncle Charles. From what he writes, it seems very probable that he will find his long-lost child, and which will make quite a change in your prospects. hope you will take this into consideration before you decide to marry a nameless and portionless 1r . “ My dear Janey, you are the last person that I supposed would counsel me to make marriage a mercenary consideration.” Richard was sorry that he said this as soon as ,the words had passed his lips. The eyes that Janey turned toward him were full of tears. . _ ' “It is enough. Go, my brother. God give you success, and the happiness that has been denied to me!” CHAPTER XXVI. IN cm‘cnmo ARMS. “ A GENTLEMAN in the reception-room to see Miss Worth. ” , . The sister who gave this message to Irva smiled as she noted the sudden color, whose warmth and brightness had such a transforming influence on that pale, quiet face. I“ It is nearlyfour; you need not return again to-nizht." , . . ’ ' . \ bIrva’s heart beat fast as she passed down the 5 ans. “ It must be Richard. Who else could it be?" Richard was standing in the middle of the room, with his eyes fixed upon the d00r, as Irva. opened it, looking, as she thought, bigger and stronger and handsomer than ever. “ At last!” he cried, his fingers closing strong-' 1y over thehaud she laid in his, and which seem- ed well content to be made prisoner. ' r “ I was almost sure. it was you!” said Irva, as the two took a seat on the sofa together. “ And you were glad, very glad I hope? You see what a vain fellow I am, to ask such a ques- tion ?” he added, with a laugh, never once re- moving his eyes from the face, whose varying color revealed more than she would willingly have told him. “ How could I help being glad to see one who has been so very kind to me ?” faltered Irva, making a faint effort to withdraw her hand, but only succeeding in making it a faster pris— oner than before. . “ As though that was any merit l”said Richard. in a‘ tone tremulous with the feelin that were fast bearing down every barrier be ore them. There was a silence, a silence so sweet, so full of warm and tender emotion, that each feared to break the spell that bound them. ' Then‘ Richard said: “ Irva, when I learned you had left Kate’s, I made up my mind, if I ever found you, that I would never, willingly, lose‘ you again. And when Janey gave me your letter'to her, I told .her that I was coming here to ask you to be my wife. Now, what shall I tell her that you said?" The color that rose to the temples suddenly receded, leaving the face paler than Richard had ever seen it before. “ That I love her brother too Well to consent to his marrying a poor, nameless girl, like me.” Richard smiled. “ Ah, I forgot to tell you that I am no longer . l the respective heir of a rich man; in uncle is like y to find a nearer and dearer claimant for hls wealth. And though I am not exactly nameless, I have not much to boast of on that score—my maternal grandfather having been a shoemaker, as perhalpsgrou have heard me mono tron. I have often a occasion to remind sis- ter Kate of, that, to her, rather unwelcome‘fact. But grandpa Davis, the shoemaker, was a very intelligent and worthy man; so I hope you won’t throw me overboard on that account.; , Irva could not avoid smiling at this character- istic Speech. ’ ' Richard continued: “ So you see I have nothing but these arms of mine with which to push my way in the world; but my darling will find them very strong and tender, if she will only trust herself to them)” “ What did Janey say, when you told her?" whispered Irva, a few minutes later, from out the circlin arms, that Were, to her, the dearest‘ 9 I refu e in t 9 world. “ hen I told her that I was going to ask you " to be my wife? She said: ‘Go, my brother; God give you success and hap inessl’ And 111 giving you to me He has given thl” . _ “And Kate?” , “ Oh! Kate will come out all right. She’s got some pretty hi h notions, but,'a51de from this, she is one of t e kindest human beings. She will love you; I defy her to help it! In fact I am convinced that it was Miss Weston’s in u-‘ once over her that made her take the stand that she did.” ' ' ' v ‘ A shadow fell across Irva’s face; her gentle heart wasnot one to bear malice toward any, and in the new happiness that had come to her it had grown very soft and tender. ‘ “Poor Miss Weston!” she si hed. know Richard, I really think 8 e loved oul” “ She loved the wealth and position 0 which she thought me tobe the heir, you mean," laugh- ed Richard. “Don’t fret our tender heart about her; she won’t break ers for me, or any man. She has made up her mind to marry a rich husbandpand when she learns the change in my plrospmts, will very easily reconcile her- self to or oss.” ' ——_.m CHAPTER XXVII. LOV'E’S ms'r AND TRIUMPH. THE next morning Ellen brought Irva 3 mes- sage from Mrs. Sully, inviting her to spend the day with her. “ Is your mistress quite alone?" inquired Irva; “No, ma’am. Her uncle, Mr. Cameron come last night, and his mother, a blind lady— worth, 1 think the call her." ~ , - .‘9 A blin lady? and called Worth?” repeated Irva. “I used to know a blind lady by that “Do you ‘ . v. ,....,.,.. -w -_..~...~ . I ., I r. Cameron’s ‘ mother?” ' , , ” f" That’s what. he calls her. An’ oh! miss it’s . . so beautifulto see how kind and ‘attentive he is '~ '1; to~herl'An’ sech a sweet face as the ould lady ' has! it does the heart good to look at it!” _ ‘ , 3' ‘ “It can’t be poor Barby,” thought Irva; “ for ~ .‘ she had, no children that I overheard of.” say' she was, .' Then aloud: » I -',“Tell Mrs. Sully that I would rather wait * I‘until she has not so many With her.” ’ 'In the afternoon Janey came in her carriage. She embraCed Irva with much affection, call- ;ing the smiles and “blushes to her face by ad- ,dressin her by the endearing title of sister. v «9005 make you as happy as I could wish. yswoet sister; happier than that you cannot be!” ' Then, seating herself on the sofa. beSIde Irva, 3 she gazed intently into her face, her manner he" ‘ ng a suppressed emotion that the former he not looked for, much as she knew Janey 7 loved her brother. . v.1“Now, my dear Irv’a, I want you to tell me about yourself, about your early life, I .mean. . Believe me, it is no idle curiosity that makes me ask you this.” , I < Therewas an earnestness in these words that fjsurp sed Irva, especially as Janey had hitherto "tavoided asking any questions concerning her past life. ' But she immediately proceeded to avers. brief statement of her early life and 3an e peculiar circumstances that surrounded her. " Janey listened very attentively, asking Irva several uestions. , ‘ ', When I rva had answered them to the best of ability, she arose to her feet, as ing: _ ff“; have strangevand glad news or you, dear Barbara orth, whom you have only _,.km‘lwn as your nurse, but who sustains a far nearer relation to you,‘is at my house, waiting ,‘to seeyou.” , . up. Irva uttered a cry of joy. , _.“ That Is glad news, indeedl My dear, kind 1%! I have thought of her so much of late! “ Wis she in health? She was very ill when I saw her last.” ' . 1‘ Better, very much better. But I can an- «ear all your. questions on the way. She is ver impatient. to see you. I could only persua e ' 4~ to let me come alone by romising to bring .‘you tohe’r as quickly as p055: le.” ' The two were con seated in the carriage that waiting at t 6 door. . f’ sudden thought struck Irva. .,;”You said that she sustained a nearer relation tome," What did you mean i” ‘,‘ That she is your mother’s mother, who died ,mgflgfi- you birth. Did you ever think that ‘ c a ing might be?” _ ' ' fl never, never dreamed of it! ‘Why has she iuignorance of it all these years?” 1 , , use~a cloud hung over your birth at" timttima and she believed it to be for finr good i at ,you should be considered as rs. Suttcu’s child. ’ ".‘w - this . was the secret to which she so chm alluded?” , "fiThis is Bush Bureau’s Sudan. At least of it. Irva, I how more to tell you than There is some one else waiting to see you, 2.? s :3 who has been searching for you many years. i on told .me once that you thought a father’s in” past he the dearest and most pleasant ' , in the world. ‘j? know that .you have found a dearer, v . ,, I” added Janey, as a swift flush came to face. “ Still, would it not make you very to know. that (you had a father, a noble, mafingdéhonorgg’le man, of whom any daughter ,rou » I , t It is he, my father; that ‘ has come! I. knew I should find ‘Lhiimi that’he would claim the, some day!” When Wham puther trembling arms around KW. calling her_ “ her dear daughter’s dear rigid,” Irva’s feeling found expression in broken ordeal joy and thanksgiving. {activation she clung, sobbing, to her father’s manhood heard his voice blessing her in such of sclemnity and tenderness, she smiled brightly through her tears up into his face, say- igg I get: iI should ting, ye}: ‘oammesome ay . , Edi 5 hours later, Mr. Cameron and his ( I ‘ tor were seated tokether in the library. ‘- along andconfldentiai talk. “first have to merryntmchardl” m . . ' 1' resurfhfinfins ,~ :3? W" ; that you would ‘. .. i <4 , murely, who, bymthe Way, did not seem/to be at all alarmed by this threat. Mr. Cameron’s face suddenly “ Do you love him, my child? “I do. I don’t know when my love com‘ menced—I think it must have been that terrible night, when he came so nobly to my rescue-— butmthis I know, that it will end only with me. i ' Mr. Cameron laid his hand softly upon the head that was resting a ainst his shoulder. ' “Richard has a nob 6 heart; I never knew him to be guilty of a dishonorable action in my life. 'But e who wins my new-found treasure ,grew grave. from me must prove himself Worthy of her. If he stands the test to which I shall subject him, well and good. We shall see.” A few mmutes later a step was heard in the hall beyond, followed by the sound of Richard’s voice speaking to one of the servants. Mr. Cameron stepped out from the bay-win- dow Where heland rva were sitting. “Stay here, my daughter,” he said, drawing the curtain so closely that she was hidden from sigfllit. earing Mr. Cameron’s .voice, Richard came in, grasping him warmly by the hand. “My dear uncle! Janey has been telling me of your ood fortune. I congratulate you with my who e heart!” ' “Thank you, Dick; I am a happier man than I ever expec‘ed to be in this life. The daughter I have found is all that the fondestfather’s heart could wish. But you shall not be any poorer for it, my dear boy 5 you can’t be my heir but you shall marry my heiress. I have it all planned.” “ You are very good, uncle,” lau hed Richard; “ but there is quite a’ serious impe iment to that arrangement. The fact is, my heart is no longer at my own dis osal.” I “Nonsense ick} I’ve heard all about that. But you won t be so foolish as to prefer a poor nameless girl to my daughter and heiress and who is, wrthal, as fair and sweet as morta wo- manwell can be?” “ You will find me just so foolish, uncle,” was the grave response. “ I love my betrothed wife; and poor'and nameless as she is, I prefer her to a «iueen upon her throne!” _ 'rva could keep quiet no lon er. Stealing out from her hiding-place, she'laid er ban on her father’s arm. , “ You sha’n’t torment Richard, any longer, papa; i won’t have it!” . ‘ ' “ You won’t have it?” re ted Mr. Cameron, with a quizzical smile. “ pon my word! that’s a nice way to speak to your father, miss!” Then turning to Richard, who stood looking from one to the other, in speechless amazement, he said in a voice broken and tremulous with emotion: , A , l “ Take her my dear boy, the best and dearest gift that I have to bestow. .God make you worthy of each other!” There is little more to tell. Stephen Sully’s reckless course was cut short by a viplent death, being killed in some drunken gear-rel; his death a relief to all connected with 1m. ' ‘ Janey divides her time between Irva and her sister ate, and is growing strong and well in thilpeace and happiness that are now. here. r. Cameron and Barbara are living with Richard and Irva in their beautiful and pleas- ant home. . 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Victor-.1 ' f For sale by all newsdealers, price ten 081158.01?- sent, postage paid, on receipt of twelve cents. BEADLE AND ADAMS. PUBLISHERS, 98 William street, N]. Y. ' Half-DimeSinger’s Library 1 W'HOA, EMMA! and 59 other Songs. , 2 CAPTAIN CUFF and 57 other Songs. _ 3 THE GAINSBORU’ HAT and 62 other Songs. ' 4 JOHNNY MORGAN and 60 other Songs. r». 5 I‘LL STRIKE You WITH A FEATHER and . 6 GEORGE THE CHARMER and 56 other Songs. .r 7 THE BELLE or ROCKAWAY and 52 other 8 YOUNG FELLAH, YOU‘RE Too FRESH andwwherp 9 SKY YOUNG GIRL and 65 other Songs. ‘ ' ' '/ ‘ 10 PM THE GOVERNOR’S ONLY SON and mother 11 MY FAN and 65 other Songs. '. L ' 12 COMIN‘ THRO’ TILE RYE and 55 other Songs. , 13 THE ROLLICKING IRISHMAN and 59 other SODng". ' 14 OLD DOG TRAY and 62 other Songs. ’ . ‘ 15 WHOA. CHARLIE and 59 other Songs. . . 16 IN THIS WHEAT BY AND BY End 62 other'Songs. - 17 NANCY LEE and 58 other Songs.’ . 18 I‘M THE BOY THAT’S BOUND To BLAZE And Mothers. 19 THE Two Dunn‘s and 59 other Songs. v - f. 20 WHAT ARE THE WILD WAVES SAVING, SISTEIEW and59 other Songs. » ' _ 1 _ 21 INDIGNANT POLLY WOO and 59 other Songs. 22 THE OLD ARM-CHAIR. and 58 other Songs. 7 ' - 23 ON CONEY ISLAND BEACH and 58 othchong-s. 24 OLD SIMON. THE HOTCORN MAN and women; _ 25/‘I’MINLOVEand560flIerS‘ongs. ‘ ‘. .V 25 PARADE ON THE GUARDS and 56 other Songs. 27 Yo, HEAVE, Ho! and mother Songs. , 2‘3 ’TwILL NEVER Do To Gm IT UP So and 60 others. 29 BLUE BONNETS OVER THE BORDER and 540m. 30 THE MERRY LAUGHING MAN and 56 other Songs. \ " 31 SWEET FORGET-ME-No'r and 55 otherSongs. v~ * / 32 LEETLE BABY MINE and 53 other Songs. " 33 DE BANJO AM DE INSTRUMENT FOR MEand’fiaothers 34 Turn and 50 other Songs. ’ 35 JUST To PLEASE THE Bars and 52 otherSongs‘. 36 SEATING ON ONE IN THE CUTTER. and'w Others.“ " 37 Roman Rum and 59 other. Songs. ‘ ' 38 NIL DEstNDUM and 53 other Songs. 39 THE GIRLILEPT BEHIND ME Godmothan 40 "he BUT A LITTLE FADED FLOWER and‘w othm 41 PRETTY WHILHELMINA and 60 other Songs. ' 42 DANCING IN THE BARN and Mother Songs. \ ‘ I 43 H. M. S..PIN_APDRE, COMPLETE, and 17 other songs. , Sold eve-panama Niemfilfirsagg five HELMET. y m ,y g m “ BEADLE AND ADAMS. r. 4 08. WILLIAM STREET. . NW Yon.- ‘ 1r LALLA Room. By Thomas Moore...t........_. we 2DONJUAN. ByLordByron.. . . . . . . 3 PARADISE LOST. By John" Milton . .. .......4\,.-10¢ 4 THE LADY OETHE LAKE. SirWalterScott...; 5 LUCILE. By Owen Meredith... ‘ 6 - WATER-SPIRIT. .me the‘f [lg-gill gimme}: De La Motto reigns... For sale haul modulate. on .. ,t’welve cents dorm? ooy~~.-..... meaty-four cents ADM moron a on .‘H J g . '.>' .(_ 19D ’5' ~96. I I0 28 Inclusive. is to 26 Popular analogues and Dramas in each book. Each volume 100 121110 "10" '0'“ post-paid, on receipt of price, TEN CENTS. I. BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William St, N. Y. . . a These volumes have been prepared with especial reference to their availability for Exhibitions, being adapted to schools and parlors Wlflifl‘; I‘ without the furniture of a stage, and suited to SCHOLARS AND YOUNG PEOPLE of every age, both male and female. It is fair to assume; 3 flat no other books in the market, at any price, contain so many useful and available dialogues and dramas of Wit, pathos, humor and sentiment. r . ,s Foe soEOO‘J Dime Dialogues, No. 1. Meeting of the Muses. For nine young ladies. Baiting a Live Englishman. For three boys. Tasso’s Coronation. For male and female. Fashion. For two ladies. The rehearsal. For six bgys. Which will you Choose? or two boys. The een 01' Ma . For two little girls. The ea-Party. or four ladies. Three Scenes in Wedded Life. For male and female. Mrs. Sniffles’s Confession. For male and female. The Mission of the Spirits. For five young ladies. Enbnobbing. For five akers. The Secret of Success. or three speakers. zYoung America. For three males and two females. J oseg‘hine’s Destiny. For four females, one male. The olly of the Duel. For three male speakers. Dogmatism. For three male speakers. The lzgnorant Confounded. For two boys. The .ast Your Man. For two males. The Year’sRec oning. Twelve females. one male. The Village with One Gentleman. For eight females and one male. Dime Dialogues, No. 2. The Genius of Liberty. Two males and one female. Cinderella, or, the Little Glass Slipper. Doing Good and Saying Bad. For several characters. ml BEADI‘E AND ADAMS, 98 WILLIAM STREET, N. Y. I General Dime Book Publishers. \ no 31811; {DON S .23; P? HOME in“ L L" i’, The Golden Rule. For two males and two females. ' The Gift of the Fair Queen. For several females. Taken in and Done or. For two characters. a Country Aunt’s Visxt to the City. Several characterm The Two Romans. For two males. Tryin the Characters. For three males. The ap y Family. ~ For several “animals.” The Ramlhow. For several characters. How to write “ Po ular ” Stories. For two males. The New and the 1d. For two males. A Sensation at Lust. For two males, The Greenhorn. For two males. The Three Men of Science. For four males. ,- The Old Lady’s Will. For four males. The Little Philosghers. For two little girls. How to Find an eir. For five males. The Virtues. For six young ladies. A Connubial Eclogue. The Public Mee ' . For five males and one female. The English Trave or. For two males. Dime Dialogues, No. 3. The May Queen. For an entire school. Dress Reform Convention. For ten females. Keeping Bad Company. A Farce. For five males. Courtin Under Difficulties. Two, males, one femah. Natio Representatives. A Burlesque. Fourmnles. Escaaeing the Draft. For numerous males. The nteel Cook. For two males. Masterpiece. For two males and‘two females. The Two Romans. For two males. The Same. Second Scene. For two males. Showin the White Feather. Four males, one fem“ The Bat lo Call. A Recitative. For one male. The Frost ang. For ten or 'mori persons. . ‘ Starting in Life. For three male: and two females. Faith, Ho 8 axideharity. For three little iris. Dal-bi an Joan. For two males and one emale. 1: ' The . 'ay. A Floral Fancy. For six little girls. ' The Enchanted Princess. 2 males, several females. Honor to Whom Honor is Due: 7 males and 1 female The Gentle Client. Several males and one female. Phrenolo A Discussion For twenty males. The Stub etown Volunteer. 2 males and 1 female. A Scene from “ Paul Pry.” For four males. The Charms. For three males and .one lemale. Bee, Clock and Broom For three little girls. The Ri ht we . A 00110 uy. For two boys. What t e Le er Says. or two males. The Crimes of ress. A CollocFy. For two boyl. The Reward of Benevolence. or four miss. The Letter. For two males. ‘mme Dialogues, No. 5. The Three Guesses. For school or arlor. Sentiment. A “’Three Persons’ " arce. Behind the Curtain. For males and femal'u, go Eta Pi Society. For five boys and a teacher. amination Day. For several female character! I in “ Tra ." For several males. Tra . bunal. For ten bon~ The" Sc oolboys‘ l , , Forfmmcles' . . .V : .fle. '. . on Mtg, h for Aunt Matilda. Forr‘three females. . . ‘3 Wile. For three females and one male. {@511 ‘ Forth males. ' / I he Double Str m. 'F'or“ cur females; Chickens fore They were Hatched... For ~l four males. ' I. Dime Dialogues, No. 22. {TheDMk Cupid. For 3 Gentlemen and 2 ladies. $1.1m Ne'erdo—Well. Two males and two females. V 1.11;. For .two girls. I «rang: Adventures. For two boys. ‘ he g’s Supper. For four iris. , 7 A Mammal Exemplification. or two boys. g.- nia’s Banquet. For a number of girls. fineleur Thiers in America. For four boys. . The True Queen. ‘ A Slight Mistake. ‘ offiberty. For nine ‘ races. For three little girls . ’ , The Music Directors ‘ For seven males. ' ’ A Strange Secret. For three 'rls. ' An Unjust Man. For four ma es. . The Shop Girl’s Victory. For 1 male and 3females. The Psychometiser. For 2 gentlemen and 2 ladies. Mean 1“ N 0 Word For It. For tour ladies. Whimsical. A number of char rs of both sexes. Blessed Are the Peace-xiiakers. .veu young girls. The, Six Brave Men. For six bo'y . Have You Heard the News? A gos’sip’s catastrophe. A colloquy in verse. '2 young girls. 4 males, 1 female, and several auxiliaries. j Lazy and Busy. A dialogue in rhyme. 10 little fellows. , The Old and the Young. 1 gentleman and 1 little girl. . That Postal Card. For 3 ladies and 1 gentleman. Xy’s Diplomacy. For three females and a num- ‘ ,ber of “ ncidentals. =- ' bellman. For two ladies and one gentleman. 0 8 Will Be Bolys. For two bo s and one girl. a Day. or three dies. V l , ve. ‘ For a num r o scholars. ‘38 He Managed. For two males, two females. Mdango. For various characters, white and other. \ 1Elfor ftwo gigy girls. Revenge. or our ys. WMay Day. For. three little ‘rls. \I‘Om Tbe‘Sublime to The Ri culous. For 14 males. " ‘ tsort Not Face. ~ For five boys. Dime ,Dialogues. No. 23. Hunt’s Bemedy.’ For three females, one male. Schmidt’s mmend. For two males. 1 and Grumble. For two littlelboys. , to Do hnu . For six females. . itPa? Forsix .’ ' m uy anners and Home Im oliteness. For two , 8, two females and two c dren. 98m Days. For two little boys. . ‘ ' Drtunate Mr. Brown. For one male, six females. ' 'A/ . 1 cost. For two girls. "~' Garden. For three males and two females. 1 “ ' ,. - .3 Busy Bees. For four little girls. . Wmate. For numerous characters. 'floéi'flmeu For two little firm. , 3- “h, 6. Two principal c amters and ad'uncts. I l '- l3nd Gold. Several charmters, male and emale. j_ «bound r. For three males and two females. ,1. . Moe taJustice. For eleven males. 2-. , “All. For four males. Mother Goose and Her Household. A whole school fancy dress dialogue and travestie. Dime Dialogues, No. 25. The Societies of the Delectables and Les Miserables. i What Each Would .Have. ‘ For two ladies and two gentlemen. ' For six little boys and teacher. - ' ‘ ‘ Sunshine Through the Clouds. For four ladies. I ‘ TheFriend in Need. For four males. The Hours. For twelve little girls. In Doors and Out. For five little boys. Dingbats. For one female and three males. The Pound of Flesh. For three boys. - Beware of the Peddlers. For seven mixed characters. Good Words. For a number of boys. I A Friend. For anumber of little 'rls. The True Use of Wealth. For a w ole school. Gamester. For numerous characters. Put Yourself In His Place. For two boys. Little Wise Heads. For four little girls. The Regenerators. For five boys. , Crabtree’s Wooing. For several characters. Integrity the Basis of All Success. For two males. A Crooked Way Made Straight. Gentleman and lady. How to “Break In ” Young Hearts. For two ladies and one'gentleman. . ‘Dime Dialogues, No. 26. Poor Cousins. For three ladies and two gentlemen. ‘ Mountains and Mole-hills. For six ladies and several 8 tators. ' v A 'liest That Did Not Fail. For six boys. Two W9. 5 of Seeing T . For five little girls. , not Your Chic ens Before They Are Hatched. For four ladies and a boy. [THEDIMESP Each Speaker, 100 page!» 12mm, containing from 50 to 76 pieces; Numbers 1 to 23, inclusive. True Cl Sat’d’yN » “InaJus Cause,’ . No Peace, with Oppres- s on, A Tale of a Mouse, A Thanksgiving Sermon, r The Cost of Riches, Great Lives Im erishable The Prophecy or the Y’r Unfinished Problems, Honor to the Dead, Immprtaiit of Patriots, Wehstcr’s olit’l System, 13:91: in the Forum, Woman’s heats, ' Right of the vemed der, omen, ‘ Alone, The Rebellion {Disuniom o, v :telli once the Basis. of - " Libe . r. both, ‘ . on Phrenology, Lee. WES Name. I or Boy’s Syren, National Speaker. No. 2. ion and its Results, Tecumseh’s Speech, Country’s Future, Territorial Eirpansion, 6 Statesman’s Labor-s, Martha Hopkins, This The BashfulMan’s Story, The Matter-of—Fact,Man, ‘ Rich anttll1 FEE ‘ Seeing e pse,’ 5 Beauties of the Law, Ge-lang! Git UD. The Bats of Life, . ; Oreowning Glory of U. 8., ty, Three Fools, ' Law. ‘ , Washington, 2 ; r. ‘ . , Gar Great Inheritance, on, Henry may. ‘0: 1861, ty. A. I‘m NotaSi .le, , . . . ° ‘ . Murder Will Out, ggve tor the Best, of madness, Gates oflSleep, . Bug e. , A Hoodish Gem, gurity of the Struggle. id Atge, Beau ful and True The Worm Of the Still. s“ and e: n e o e e. Wasi‘iln‘gtoh, .' g The Deluge. Speaker. no. a. Histo of Our Flag T. F. eagher’s A‘dress, g; Cme til! the Union, co ’3 Last Speech 0? Stephen 4- A. Douglas, » GreatBe Rolan The New Year and the Kin Cotton. '[Unioni . Bat‘eAnthem. ‘ y The Ends of Peace, ' ' Freedom the - atchword Crisis-of Our tion, But of, , t ts, ‘ i ‘ Turkey Dan's oration. A Fearless Plat. . The Guns of Slavery, A Fore er’s Tribute, The Lit e Zouave. Catholic Cathedr The “ Speculators. ‘ 0 io, , ' '- Oliver Hazard Po -‘ OurDomaln ‘ ' my. Systems of Selief, 0 Indian Chief, The Independent Farms Mrs. Grammar‘s Boll, . How the Monev Comes, Future of‘ the Fashions, Loyalty to Liberty, Our Country First, Last, and Always, ~ British Influence, Defense of Jeflerson, National Hatreds. Dime Patriotic. America to the World, Love of Conn , Right of Se Preserva- Our Cause, [tion, A Kentuckian’s up Kentucky Steadfas A, ‘ Timidity is Treason, , The Alarum. ~ April 15, 1861, The Spirit of '61, The Precious Heri e, $hc_lrisl§ Element, raln’s peec . Christy‘s Speech, ’ Let Me Alone. ‘ Brigadier-General, Th Draf o Pa..- 8 1 Union Square Speeches, The Union. Our Country‘s Call, ‘ The Story of on Oak Tree, L-e~g On- My Dog, Dime Comic Speaker} No.49 Klebcyer ass on the War, ' Romeo and Juliet. Age Blun ly Considered, Happiness, ' Early Rising, ‘ ogs, I . , D . The Was andt eBeei ,. . P “ . * .. Comic (hrfennnailr1 No. ,._ Aegean Euloghzm ’ T ,3 How - he he“ ligated States. A of a . , f j * males, with severaltransfonnations, ‘, The Lesson of Mercy, For two, very girls. Practice What Ymi'Preach. For four ladies. V I Politician. ‘ For numerous characters. The Canvassing Agent. “For? males and 2 females. “ Grub. For. two males. , A Slight Scare. For 3 females and 1 male. j - Embodied Sunshine. For three young ladies. , How Jim Peters Died. Fer two males. -‘ 1 ‘ Dime Dialogues, No. 27. w I ,1 Patsey O’Dowd’s Campaign. 3 maleEand 1 female}- Hasty Inferences Not Always Just. Discontented Annie. For several girls. A Double Surprise. For four males and one female, ‘_ What Was It? For five ladies. umerous boy‘s. ‘ we 7 '0. , _ i What,Wi11 Cure Them. For a lady and two boys. , - ” Independent. For numerous characters. Each Season the Best. For four boys. ,, Tried and Found Wanting. For several ‘ The Street Girl‘s Good Angel. 2 ladies& 2 little ' A Boy’s Plot. For several characters. - “That Ungrateful Little N' ger." For two males. ‘ If I Had the Mono . ‘ For t roe little girls. ' Appearances Are eitful. Several ladies & i .Love’s Protest. For two little girls. , , 4 An Enforced Cure. For several characters. . Those Who Preach and those Who Perform.‘ 3 A Gentle Conquest. For two young girls. 4 Dime Dialogues, No.28. N A Test that Told. For six ladies and two cute. Organizing a Debating Society. «For four The Awakening. For four little girls. Thgdlitebuke Proper. For three gentlemen and es. , , Exercising an Evil Spirit. For six ladies. » - Both Sides of the Fence. For four » * "‘ The Spirits of the Wood. For two troupes N 0 Room for the Drone. ~ For three little boys. "~ , “ Arm—chair. For numerous characters. ' ,_ - Measure for Measure. For four girls, ' ‘ f Saved :fila Dream. For two males and two females." An Inf 'ble-Sign. ‘ For four boys. ~ 1 l "' ' A good Use for money. For six little girls. , _. _ An Agreeable Profession. For several chamtem. v ‘ For sale by all newsdcalers, or will be sent, costs paid, to any address, on receipt of price, ten cents. 4 _ r 13an AND wens, ransom- ’ ) Practical Phrenology, Beautiful, 08. huge, aifirwahle People is a Bachelor Like? Flinn Folks A y w’ I BtianO ' 3 “'Grocketttco WhoIsM Opposnentl“ 9 Political _ , : 0-” ‘2 Comic G Farewell to the of TheConk ’3" . l ‘ Wood‘s Trip wmchmu. smaciz’ég’sazdei . The Mhhntebank, Compound Interest, semen? M The Eggnog” Toilet1 _ mm No. a". ‘* ; » SEC. I.~ Pmczrms or Tam; Eucacufloflksll‘aulter in human; How to Avoid Them. and Observations. ' ~ .» ~ .. , , curing. Dinerence Agreeing ,Exh'orti . W, _ ,. lug, Admitting), Condemningng eac cg." ins, Arenas: .lSmlSSm%Refiisi ,Grenting,1Dé »- pandemic, Veneration, ope, 'T , re, ml ’ ngdagiidgr ’1‘? n gemmfimfeg 3 e) t . ,' m timoth, Intofication,pAnn§er, etc. “8'. SEO. III. Tun Comm ELM or'M- Q non—Rules of Com tion as afpnedtowm 'and Phrases, viz.:' 'ty, Prop ety, Pi ‘ Asapplied tr Sentences, Via: Length‘ofmence Gleamess, Unity, Stren h. , of Speech; the Exordium, the Narra ion, t e Proposition, Confllmation, the Refutaticu the Peroratiom / SEC, IV. Rwansma Vassar. —~Transition; A alight: on Honor; the ’ i Burial of Lincoln; i ofaLife' the B le' the oils; ‘ , figmv-W‘fierggfig “rig!de ' Discoveries of Chihan E? ' Macrame m Prose , ‘ Q ,‘fm .the‘Ox; MW ' anyWnSP; the Bayonet Charge; ‘ l j ‘ no .98 William sweet; new , 31391;, / , . ,o Onions, ; * .. cStory. , ~ Cats; ‘ "Courtship, , gob , an , o ashio’nable Women, I tern Thistl ' I ' t. ' « lottlieb Klebcyergoss C’ 1 Schlackenliohter‘s snake, » g x ' osea Bi iow’s inions, _ ow the oney oesfi * I V Hun-ki—do—ri‘s Fourt of : July Oration r “11 cu Mean N’o, Say No, ~ 30 we on Leap , . a of the Henfec ed, Skinner’s E egy. . The World We Live In, ., Woman’s Claimfl , Authors of our berty, “ _ . Con ueror, ; " . tizen’s eritage, ‘ iter ‘ TheMechanic, ' ,, fl and Nature’s God ’ Fate of Sergeant Thin, The Features’ Quarrel, Hamerican Voodchuck, The Harp of a Thousand Strings, The Last of the Sarpints, The March to Moscow, The Mysterious Guest, The Pumgé The Sea- rpent, The Secret, The Shoemaker, The Useful Doctor, The Waterfa , To the Bache ors’ Union League. Unite States Presidents, V ries of Popping the , uestion, What I Wouldn’t Be, Yankee Doodle Aladdin, 1desglitloskeetare, Speaker, No. 7. John Burn. Gettysburg, No Sect in eaven, Miss Prude‘s Tea-Party, The Power of an Idea, The Beneflcence of the Suffrage, (Sea, Dream of the Revelers, HowCyrus Laid the Cable The Prettiest Hand, e Parade xical, Little Jerry, the Miller, N y F The hts, A , The dies‘ Life, ' The Idler, The Unbeliever, The Two, Lives The True Scholar, Judges not Infallible, Fanaticism, Instability of Successful Agriculture, LCrime, Ireland, The Peo le Always Con- Music of abor, [quer, Prussia/and Austria, .W . , I Hon. J. M. Stubbs’ Views on the Situation, Hans Schwackhcimer on Woman’s Suffrage, All for a Nomination Old Ocean, " Sea, The Sea,the Sea, the open Star Bangled Spanner, Stay Where You Belong, Life’s What You Make , Where’s My Money, S eech from Conscience, n's Relation to Society The Limits to Ha piness, Good-nature a B essing. Sermon from Hard—shell Tail-enders, [Baptist, The Value of Money, Meteoric Disquisition, Be Sure You are Right, Be of Good Cheer Crabbed Folks, (Shrew, Taming a Masculine Farmers, [Our Country The True Greatness o V rm The Student .013 Bermuda, ; The Broken Househ Bible, ‘ Purse and the Sword Butter, ‘ My Deborah Lee, The Race, :The Pin and Needle, The Modern Puritan Immortality of the Soul, I Occupation, Her01sm and Daring. A Shot at the Decanter. Dime Stump Speaker, No. 8. New England and Union, The Unseen Battlefield, Plea for the Republllc, erica, m a acy “Right of Secession” a Life 8 Sunset, Eumau Nature, 9. I 'ers Writings 62 the Indians, A pea] in behalf of Am. Mplseries of War, [Liberty, A Lay Sermon, A Dream, Astronomical, The Moon, Duties of The Man [zens, American Citi- Temptations of Cities, Broken Resolutions, There is no Death, A Fruitful Discourse, A fienchman’s Dinner, Unjust National Acqui n, The Amateur v g. - >1" 2' * ma Locum». 2—9. ADAMS. 598. WILLIAM smear, N; Y. . man, hearty or, V, Dime Juvenile-_ ' Speaker. A Bo ‘s Philoso hy, Hoe Out Your Igm' Six-Year—Old’s 'ProteSt, The Suicidal Cat, ‘ g'Valeditétion, oppm o The Eda/on“)1 The Same, in rhyme, The Fairy Shoemaker, ‘ What Was Learned, Press On, The Horse, ‘, - The Snake in the Grass, Tale of the Tropics, Bromley’s Speech, The Stine, second extract The Fisher’s Child, She earian Scholar AMai en's Psalm of Life, A Mith ure, , Plea for Skates, Elam Ball, 3 Live for Something Lay of the Hen-Peel: The Outside Dog, Wolf and Lamb, Lion in Love, Frogs Asking for a King, Sick Lion, Country and Town Mice, gen and Woman,‘ ome, The Lotus-Planter, semis, ‘s u , Re enzan oq y e s . m u o Niught r m, Short Legs, Shrimps on Amusements, ed, Me How the Raven Boom A Mother’s Work, ' ,- The Same, I Who Rules, A Sheep Story, , A Little Correspondent, " One n Deserves My Dream, l. [Ano’tben ‘ 1'11 ever Uso Tobacco; a M C. The Old Bachelor, Prayer to Light, Lit e Jim Y Angelina’s Lament, , Johnny Shrimps on Boots rc ‘ , m,- 00? c r ’8 Who Killed Tom Roper, Nothing to Do Honesty Best Policy, Heaven, r Ho for the Fields, Fas ion on .ihe Brain. on hanghais‘, A Smile, ‘ Casabian [Com “is -' I K “seam t0 The Madman Little Serm, ons, ’ Snumes on El The Two es, The Ocean Storm, Little—Do it Well Little ss, ‘ Base- ever. j, Prescription for pring Dime Spread-Eagle Speaker, No. 10.‘ Ben Buster‘s Oration Hans Von Spiegel’s 4th, Josh Billinfi‘s Advice, A Hard-sh Semen, g? gqoots, e ueezer, , Noah and the Devil, A lover‘s Luck Hifalutin Adol ’h Digestion and Distinction‘s Disadvant- « .Smlth. , ,. laces. Gu‘ahalina Bendibn's, A Stock of Notions , Speaking for the Sherifl, Daking a Shweat, Then and Now Josh Billinfis‘s Lectunn’ %. Doctor De lister’s Ann ., 0011 en , gardB ves, s h, an ryant's peec A Colored View, > Original Maud Muller, Nobody , Train of Circumstances, Good Advice? The Itching elm, Drum-head Sermons, Schnitzerl's Philoso o y “ Woman‘s Rights,’ Luke Lather, e Hog, Nack gprlu‘d Tragedy ew an r _ The Anc ent Bachelor '9 g3).ciig;>IYl7hittle:75i S tee, or r [‘0 OS on afford w‘itlh Snoo ven ood, A, Mule , I ‘ Josh Billings on Buzzers, Ii Trovatore, , ' Kissing .in the Street, “‘ dalous, I ‘ d . Musi m§ _ ~ The Debater and Chairman’- Gnide 1 I; h—Dmmo 80mm. Its Office and Usefulness, Formation of, Constitution 01, By-Laws of, Rules of Government, Local Rules of Order, Local Rules of Debate, Subjects of Discusswn. IL—HOW 'ro Dm'm. Why there are few good Debaters, Prer uisites to Oratori- ucc The Logic of eba The Rhetoric oi." Dgg’ate, Maxims to Observe, - The Preliminary Premise, Order of Argument, Summary. nL—Cmmuw's Gums. Ordinary Assemblies, The Organization, Order of Business and The “ Ques‘tggh." How it can The “ Question." ’ How to be Considered, Right? mime 3100111” as o a see ays, Integhpting a Vote Organization of Delibera- ., ve .Bodies, Conven- » tions,‘ Annual; or Gem. Meetings and Preliminary!) tion Permanent The Order of ’ Considering , opesmhfifil" m I 11 115. Theda}: (2%61i‘0f Com 3 e 3 es one, Committees, 3 Objects of aCommittee,- *‘ Their Powers, How Named, w , When Not to Sit, ‘ ‘ Rules of Order and Heath p0,, ~ ow o e - , The 010mmittee of the o e i Miscellaneous, _ Treatment of Petlfl .- _ mm of De Hints to a Chairman. r'v.——Dmrns. Debateinfull: : T .. Which is the Great?“ i m 0!‘ Debgntés in Brier: I. Is Works of Fiction. he nc°i§§ii§w new ersa . _; fit or BEEN“! oietyflnw, », , r. ' 16' Red-River Rovers ;Vor, Life and Adventures in the Northwest. ,_ i255 NOW READY AND IN PRESS. 34 The Young Bear Hunters. A Story of the Haps and Mishap! ‘ . ’1 Adventures of Buffalo Bill. Prom Boyhood to Man ! hood. By Col. Prentiss lngraham. _ The Ocean Hunters; or, The Chase of the Leviathan. By 3 uCaptain Mayne Reid. ”" An extra large number. fl Adventures of Wild Bill. the Pistol Prince. Remarkable g career of J. B. Hikok. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. The Prairie Ranch; or, The Young Cattle Herders. By Joe. 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 Plyaway: or, Yankee Boys in Ceylon. By C. Dunning Clark. H Roving Joe: The History of a Young “ Border Ruffian.” Brief ‘ Scenes from the Life of Joseph E. Badger, Jr. By A. H. Post. The Plyaway Afloat: or,rYankee Boys ’Round the World. BY C. Dunning Clark. Bruin Adams, Old Grizzly Adans’ Boy Pard. By _ " . 5 3mm Trail; or, The Boy Hunters of Fur-Land. A Narra- 1 1 “V3” SPort and Life around Lake Winnipeg. By T. C. Harbaugh. ' 6 Mountain. 12 Woods and Waters; 01‘, The Exploits of the Littleton Gun By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. A r Boy and Man, of Col. Prentiss Ingraham. By Prof.Wm. R. Eyeter. . g 1.4 Adrift on the Prairie, and Amateur Huxiters on the ‘ ‘15 3 4 s 6 7. s :9.‘ Prent' I ’ . lo Th V we ngraham 31d Grizzly Adams, the Bear Tamer; or, The Monarch of ' By Dr. Frank Powell. , Club. 13 A Rolling Stone: Incidents in the Career on Sea and Land as Bufl'alo Range. By Oll Coornes. Kit Carson, King of. Guides; or, Mountain Paths and Prairie Trails. By Albert Aiken. ' . 1 By C. Dunning Clark. . . ‘ [.17 Plaza. and Plain; or,.Wild Adventures of “Buckskin Sam,” ‘ t (Major Sam S. Hall.) By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. * . 18 Rifle and Revolver; or, The Littleton Gun Club on Buffalo Range. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. ' r .19 Wide-Awake George, the Boy Pioneer. By Ed. Willett. 20 'Ih‘e Dashing- Dragoon; or, The Story of General George A. . Custer, from West Point to the Big Horn. By Capt. F. Whittaker. 2! bestowed Dick as a. Boy; or, Why Wild Ned Harris, the New Emmth Farm-lad, became the Western Prince of the Road. By . Edward L. Wheeler. ‘ I i . .ghe Boy Exiles of Siberia. By T. C. Harbaugh. 3"“ De Lacy. the French Beast Charmer: or, New I . York Boys in the Jungles. By C. ,Dunning Clark. ‘ 244 The Sword Prince: The Romantic Life of Colonel Monstery, lAmerican Champion-at—arms.) By Captain Fred. Whittaker. Round the Camp Fire: or. Snow-Bound at “Freeze-out Camp.” . .mr A Tale of-Boving Joe and his Hunter Pards. ,By J os. E. Badger, Jr. us {snow-Shoe Tom; or, New York Boys in the Wilderness. A . \Narratlve of Sport and Peril in Maine. By T. C. Harbaugh. . ‘ I: 2.7" Yellow Hair, the Boy Chief of the Pawnees. The Ad- A , 2 venturous Career of Eddie Burgess of Nebraska, By Col. Ingraham. The Chase of the Great -White Stag and Camp and I ‘ . Canoe. By C. Dunning Clark. « ‘ 29 .The Fortune-Hunter; or. ‘ Trapper and Hunter. . 30,. Walt Ferguson’s 1. VC. Dunning Clark. 31 The Boy Crusader: or, How a Page and a Fool Saved a King. ‘ I By Captain Frederick Whittaker. ‘ ' White Beaver, the Indian Medicine Chief” oi", The RO- mantic and Adventurous, Life of Dr. D. Frank Powe known on the 88 “ Fancy Frank,” “ Iron Face, " etc. By Col. . Ingraham. intuit: Ralph. the Young Explorer ,- orThe Centi " de ’ Amonglhe Flees. By C; Bunningfllark. ‘ *i I, V ’ > the Roving Joe as Miner, Cow-Boy, By A. H. Post. ‘ Cruise. A Tale of the Antarctic Sea. * By : 40 The Ice Elephant; or, The Castaways of of a Party of Boys in the Wilds of Michigan. By Morris Redwing. 35 By T. C. Harbaugh. The Lost Boy Whalers; or, In the Shadow of the Norttholeh 36 Smart Sim, the Lad with a. Level Head. By Ed. Willem; ' 37 Old Tar Knuckle and His Boy Chums ;' or,'The of the Esquimaux Border. By Roger Starbuck. 38 The Settler’s Son: or, Adventures in Wilderness and .r in . By Edward S. Ellis. Monsters 39 Night-Hawk George, and His Daring Deedsard Ari-mate“ in the Wilds of the South and West. By Col. Prentiss Ingram. v Captain Frederick Whittaker. ' 4.1 The Pampas Hunters; or, New York Boys in Buenos Ayres. ' , By T. C. Harbaugh; , 42 The Young Land-Lubber. By C. Dunning Clark. the Lone Coast. 'ay 43 Bronco Billy. the Saddle Prince. By Col P.1ngraham. ._ 44 The Snow Hunters-3 or, Winter in the Woods. De Forrest. . 45 Jack, Harry and Tom, the Three Champion Brothers; 01-. Adventures of Three Brave Boys with the'l‘attooedl’irate. By;- Captain Frederick Whittaker. ‘ ' By Barry. - 46 The Condor Killers; or, Wild Adventures at .the Equaer ' By T. C. Harbaugh. . 47 The Boy Coral Fishers: or.Tbesea éavem Scourge. “ By] , Roger Sterbuck. 48 Dick, the Stowaway: or, A Yankee Boy’s Strange By Charles Morris. , 49 Tip Tressell, the floater; or, Fortunes and. Miner'qu the Mississippi. ‘ By Edward Willett. 50 The Adventurous Life of Nebraska Charlie. ’ Burgess.) By Colonel, Prentiss Ingr’aharn. 51 The Colorado Boys; Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 52 Honest Harry; or, The Country Boy Adrift‘inthe Charles Morris. ,53 The Boy Detectives; ‘ , By T. C. Harbaugh. , i t ,_ 54 California Joe, the Mysterious Plainsman. By Col. Ingram; ‘ 55 Harry Somers, the Sailor—Boy Magician. By S. W. Pearce. 56 Nobody’l Boys; or, Life Among the Gripsies. By J. M. .9 ‘ ,man. I ~ g I 5‘? The Menagerie Hunter: or. Fanny Hobart, 1:11.953:in Queen. By Major H. Grenville, ?‘ Sea Gull.” ,- 58 Lane Tim. the Mule Boy of the Mines. 59 L‘ud Lionheelsgthe Young Tiger Fighter. ‘By Roger ck?) f 60 The Yo Trail Hunters; or, New York Boys in Grijniy, . c. Harbaugh. 4 _ _ Land. By or, The Young Californians in Shanghai. 1 or, Life on an Indigo PlantatioanBy, _ y i By Charles Morris... _ . 61 The Young Mustangers. By 0, Dunning Clark. J ’ v 68 Jungle and Forest; or, The Colorado Boys in Tiger—Land; ' By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 1 . ' w s. Cruise. 68 The‘Adventuro'us Life ofCaptain Jack. the Border Boy, ' g. (John W. Crawford, the Poet Scout.) 64 The Young Moose-Hunters; or, Trail. and Camp-fire in New Brunswick Woods. By Wm. H. Manning. ‘ A New Issue Every Week. ‘ ‘ By 00]. Prentiss Ingram. ‘Bn‘nm's Boy’s LIBRARY is for sale by all Newsdealera, five new; per copy, or sent by mail on receipt of six cents each. ‘ I . ’ Begum AND ADAMS, Puamsmms, I J w ’ A. 588 William Street, New 3 e We that.”- u. u ‘ , :1, ‘ {’l X. d» the: Foréi'gn' ‘No‘véliots', xiiilnabtridgod. ‘- ‘I‘he Cheapest Library-Ev‘er Publishéd! . ' ‘ ‘ )- Noyzols an 3 M '3‘ka I; id"; (317. Will Slur 1'31?!“ 54 One “Tantalum ll'ofli't; or. Saved train the - 119 Maud Mohair; By Annie -' / Hill"? BY MP3. Mary RmxlCrom-il sit-(.9. By Gem... ' , . ' y i , . I »- v .. I , ‘ i J l I . , ,» , - V .l . . . gob. Kahlua. 120 lhaddeuu oi jflmnaw. “ as we _ 247‘?”th Bl:%'8_1}01§ ,( Mlegiuns- and Sweet~ ‘ 55 She 3131‘th Love Him; or, S1.ooping:.a. Porter. V _ ,Z “ I f l ' _ -, ' autism 3 :5" 11E1-'{8«§()PTEWQC}‘.BI: D. 1 I ; “Conquér. By Aralwlla Southworth. 121 I‘he King of Not-Laird. .3. LI. For» ' “’1 . zeagm‘f’ will"? "I" The M? afld'flmP-flse- 56 Loxaefm_ad g‘or. Bountth Married Diwn-cel 6011. v r ‘ a I, ‘ " _A B . ‘3’ Lampjwlh [- _ , ' V I ' ' find B Wm, Mason Turner, M'. D._ . 122 Love], the W idower. By WMEhalck» _ for”. gal”: 01'. h‘tfiitlmgly Strange. ’57 A Brave ___Iirl'; unfinishine at‘Last. By eray- / . . ID i BY {magi ; WI 1“ with: r . . ‘ a I ' Alice Flendgg. . ,I , I * 1233‘): Island Poul-’1. [By B. L. Earjeon. I Iv * '6 - 15'3"?» ‘ 59‘ Wswlfirlwrl' on t 08 The Eben Mask; or. The Mystqrious 12 1. (‘ousin Puma» . ‘ .- x , a Qua} sands of. Kim. By William B uson Guardian. By Mrs. Mary Reed ()roweu'. , 125 Long; or, of,__f}rem&w iiy {led- . ,r ' an ° D' ' . . n“ . ‘ . , _ 59 A ‘V‘V‘idoufis “files;1213ABittcheugoan'ce. , , Ward Bulwer,(I,am"dILy ton). I ‘ .- lffict {gar iagt, 913A Duches§ in . By Rachel Bernhardt. _ , , . 126 \Vllflll tho {Sh-i Comes We. 1’ By - 0' arse - l{Sago t-laxton. ‘ . A ‘ 60 Cecil’s Deceit; or. The ‘Diamdnd Legacy. Walter Besantand unles.R1ce., , ,. .‘ = ‘3 ‘. ~ “a,” "n: “I: 5"“ 9, 0"! Blinded by Love-' B Mrs. Jennie ‘Dawis Burton; I " 127 one 01 the Fulfill-{'3' By quwfiynr v , - I t }!R:eed 33m“ e11. . § 61 A. icked Heart; or, The False and the 128 The Birthright. . {‘Mrs. , ,y . . -: I ‘ . burly-.013 F3?! Phyllis LOVE» True. By Sam Claxton. \ g 129 Mouton-loss; or, The Miner‘s Swoothean. .Araibfllfi South“ on th; , 62 The Blunts"! Bride; The Dead Secret By Colonel Prentlss Ingraham. _ _ ."0 g , I“? World, ornTlle Yoqglg‘gflap s ‘of Hollow Ash Hall. By argaret Bloum; 130 Homeless; or, qu Orphan Girls in New - My "-thmhor 0f Clifton, . Pride 63 The Creole Sisters; or.Tlle Mystery or the I York. By Albert Alken. . l p. P- i 3;: (f ' r F vv . . ‘ Perrys. By Mrs. Anna E. Porter. . ' 131 Sister against sister; 01;, The Rivalry cf ‘3; oB Iggy K4985 or’The Elnemld 64 Wm“ Je‘llow‘y Did; 01’, The Heir of Hearts. ByyMrs.Mary Reed (Jrorwell. I , giffi t ?' d y 59’ (Bum 3': ' Worsle Grange. By Alice Fleming. ‘ 132 Sold for Gold. By MI‘S.‘M. X‘. Victor. , , “u 5:“; 3,1,1]; ‘12)“: A angelous Game- BY 65 The ‘ ife’s Secret; or, ’Twixt Cup and 133 Lord Roth’s Sin. By Georglana ch‘kens. ' '31,.- .1? “a in? $1?th . 2 , Lily; By Col. Juan Lewis. I i 34 nid He Love Her ! By Bartleer. Qamp “#5 Add figyzn M A” (g’slgyrfi’ “180mm 0‘ 66 A rother’s $111 or, IFlora‘s Forgiveness. r bell. . _ . f , it‘lllailga 11.2; L’fi'um‘ ' lip ens‘. 11301161 Bernhéu‘ t- I 135 Sinned Against: _By Lllllan Lovemy. _ I ‘38"; e “no eye” ‘0‘": The 67 Forbidden Buns; or, Anna’s Disguised 136 Was She Bis W nee By Mrs.MaryRoed- . . y 01111119 00811111811» Prince. By Arabella Southworth. CPO“ ‘a Wooin . ‘ vell. _ B 83 C film; or, The Woman in 68 Weavers and Weft; or, “Love Thac‘Hath 137 The Village on the cum By Miss 61%;} I m to“ . . UsInHis Net.” By Miss M. E. Braddon. Thackergy. . , _ ' r "we in?!“ out m the World- 69 Camille; or, The Fate of a Coquette. By 138 Poor aleria! 01', The Bmken 11'0'511‘ I ‘ Mey T' Cm ' ' . Alexandre Dumas. By Margaret Blount. v flingaI-ggglcesgré or.’ A True ght’ By 70 The Two 0' hans' 33’ D'Enery- 139 Margaret Graham. By G. P. R. James. ' ' .. , VI“A«‘Lo’yal Lowest}; or, The Last of the Grime» 71 Mg 8:333“ , “'0' By MY Ewing ‘Wlfes 140 Without Mercy. By BartleyT.Campbell. e a. y u ‘. I 3‘: ' .3- VB Am southwonh‘ '72 The Two Widows. vli‘yAxmie Thomas. 141 Hanor Bound. By Lillian Lovejoy. ' g L rials 0‘ a Factory 142 Fleeing tram Love. By Mrs. Harriet Irving. r * ’ 18 Ht; 160. wage IlliSlarred Marriage. By 73 no“ M’chel'g or. The Wk u wows - Girl. By Maud Hilton. ‘ 9. ~ ’0 en '"otha‘g 0", Love versus 74 Cecil Costlemaino’s G . 9 or, The Story 9 ,9 I, gage. y . Graoe Hal e. 143 Abducted or, Wicked‘Woman’s Work. 29‘0nflmn No] me oru-l’ge Girl own“; I ~ MaBmde’ed Sm“ Bfi “' “” By RettWinévood. ‘ - . . , . I l ' . 9 . 3 v 70 The Black Lady of una. By J. 8. Le . -3 “.1 Heiré l193%413113Pox/me. Fan“. , 144 A Strange Marriage; or,John W’s g: I? a H131? By 333%? Thacvzgxy‘ayid She Mal” gflairlfitte 133:]: la; B liowsog, th Heiress. By Lillian Lovejoy. ‘ ‘ I- . . - , rs an e s on. e. e s . Mrs, Reed- -*,~‘%° ommxm °I= rm mm: Halifax,.eem1eman.‘few- s Bi MW 1 ‘ ./ “$613316 I ’ new 0 or {1, '18 kg gounggusbafid; or, AOonfusionin 146A Desperate Ventureéhm.’ For “v9.8 £35m» W; 9”“‘5’ 51” mwsed- 31’s” 79 A :13”; ' Afiofifii ygcmctg. By the I“ Own 8:13: Bifégxlhfulsmgm . . ' " ~ II, ' " an arc ‘Dora ome, e .,e . The are . _ Quill. “2:315: Wu.“ H." Forum“ 35' El“ 80 Her lgtord-I and Master. By Florence man. , I ' I . ' {38.95917 a Séhoolmistresn; on Her Untold 81 meucy’3Tem high“, of Charm” 148 W3 at; gag-3:11? unfitmlsely- “a” Maggy.» nefifi‘lggw‘yfiikmg‘on the 82 A “"3 T meyfg‘l’; é” fie“ orfged'mge 149 Ah Aniliiuouo um; orISheWould Be ‘ w r ' ' ’ ’ - I L o ' » ‘ ’, I ‘ x By 0010nel'l’re’ntiss hxgraham. A $3 Piggggg f" 9‘3 m e" y AnAccress. ,By. Frances Helen Davenport. . I. 337*” 9m " Cmfl‘e‘m? 0r» A Strange 4 Th, 1. are] 'Bush.‘ B the author of. 150 Love 1.6m or All I or, In Ear anat r «1 « BY‘Hfinfiem mkefay~ . 8 I “Jghn gait”, Gentleumn.”y , ' Last. ByAMice May Fléining. ‘ .x. I f ‘ , 0;, Gambler 3 Wife' By ‘5 Led OCWV-e Fellinet. « A Glrl. Corinne ‘ V > I ‘ II “'5' Step “5' I a 6 Janet’s Repentance. By George Eliot. _ _ ; 1’ , 1 fl 3“}! may I I y I ., ' . 1": . . 3m“ 0133M"??me mm,‘ ‘87 The Romance ofa Peon-(Young Man. 159 A Mil“ 1‘ ,s‘w" ce' . Y 9* _, g In“ at l ' Am ' . B Octave Feuillet. . ,153 pi‘d She Sin. .By Mrs. Mary Reed V: , vfig 5°”, “WNW: 8.8 A orrlble .939!!! or, All mm” 33’ 134 He Lovés Me Not, By LillianILmieicgyu ' inggigm “VT”? 1”“ Wm 33' so A; mfi‘a"‘§:°§.°“§§ the author of “Dora 1515 Winning Ways. By Mammomounl-I‘ :4 . ¥ ' i v I ‘ - ' ' be. . . 158 WhatSheGostmmgor,Wm‘ .J II mmtafr'mmr in) ThemAathor’s Daughter. By Mary Bymbena I I . I' Sister Er will” MMI I " 'H-Wm I ‘I I 18‘": Autumn} Kean. Bymewm.u ‘. . V ‘ k ,, A" “amt: . "3’" 9| heJilt. ByCharlesReade. \ 15 1mm“ .r,AYmm.s_, a ' By “08 " ' 2 $331363: fiigisnfiig orfihe Dawningotthe Day. 158\ any]! mgr . my » r 3 . Inn ’uvan. I . WW! I. x /,,,H 9 . B. L.F ,,n. . - a *neletvs vow or, Home“ . Lovos V3010” BYE tuyfiaammt‘ 159 La V Wilmemmiym H I S v Be v « ? smgé of; .Coilveniengée; or, Was 9 " CountKBySam button. ' 3 \_ ion”; QEWIM, Wlnflgropxl’rlde.‘ ugh. , , , ,, ‘1. gym“ joy ' > ' r ' r0 . .* k , ' ' . 1mg ,. mew” 8” “mm” :2 ginkgo WWW. 12:33:33.;23. a. m... ~ ~ 3‘3; nob titty cousin; or, 11 is not Gold , E“ L await; B muulock.” 3 Ammunition“; or,WeddedandPurMa L 3 305939“ 3‘9 fiaaog-f: Bruce!- yLovox-s. By Mary. 1 2 WM W90“ ' ' ' " ‘ ' m ~::.-m*taz. 514», A . “A 'h‘ or, Her Not." 3 , , , l .. ; ‘ . , I I I gmfigwfgdugf Girl’s 6065 Nm: 100 fiir‘g‘m Fire 9nd; water. By Fred- 163 :3“; Pr§o$a£gnsinsg or, .Falsew . f , ; ,I Hz a x V , ‘ ‘ , 4 ,t. ‘ l ,I Q . . _ m I , . “I‘th (3 I r Rog?) - I r e ' " oak 104 A Seething Ordeal or _ y). s, I cam-'Marfil’y; affix» ve‘s Bands- }3; $3fi£s§$MW 01iqu Reade. I ‘ Mad Merriam lay-Mm ‘3‘” W“ 103 A a state Deed. yErskine Bo . 135 A/Strange Girl. ByAlbeflW.Afimn. V 4.; fife; 3mgmoye, Against the. 1M~smao¥vu on the Snow. muffin» 166 A Maw-s Shh mmwm°°¢ - V U I the Bean on or, His Second 105 Re are,“ nqggaflx mamogd, By 161 Thomglegngyof Page; of I [afimbpnasouthwoo b. , - h _ _ , . r > fl r. - Jam"! 9‘30"“; 013T“ 3W 351‘" 106} From Dreams to Waking; By E- 1.68 ’TWo FalrrWomen- By WmJL'Nmen I (an?! . 2g; figigwamwm against 107 02.92%: m. mm“... A . .169, ggagymgwgyfigwmggm 9&9. 6? “er In den; Pong 0%. Love' Atwmdds. “’8 fi’fl‘fifi’fiofif‘e 1”“ m° 170 Blind Barbara’s Seem" [By “W I‘ By. Arabellafiouthwo. h.- I. I ,. ‘ 109 nrgdnand—(lheose and Kisses. By Grace Halpine. ‘ , 3.33m» Little Haggai“;- 0r,Undera Cloud. 3 L» - I.“ A won‘anss _w1¢ch rye gh'ThJ-Ough Fa eon. I , 33M” Mfi‘z 5- -3150“ 'I , ' ‘ l 'l‘he I underln Heir. By Charles Mn’ch Tribulations. BySm ,, mman” S e Lave“ 1mm; or’HW W' 1 0 g 172 Block Eyes and Blue. By Corina I c y ‘ End? [By Mice naming Brother’s Bet' or Within Six 518 In s “not Hmolf or Jeannette’sfle ~ 111, 9 ‘ ~ ' r, 9. ‘1 I_ , ‘ushman. . . . "mg 3 8- Emma“: pa weeks 13" Emilie Fl fillolgkgaflpn 173 The Cost or a.Folly. - By Gearglaoa I “' Y - ' ‘- "112 A Hero. B.v Miss , . , ,Keufl’“ Mistrefifl§ mafia: ‘ ~ ‘1 i . memt 61:113.“!th ‘ D'chens‘ . > I V k m“ BKAmbeua southmh " ’ “‘3 'lfi‘fie‘égl- 1131's: ‘ ' '1') ‘ ‘ 174 Th; Pretty Puritan. By A Folsom; “nevggi'tessem 131;, gr?!" Qr‘AThfiefifim’." 9! 114 "two: llfil’g‘hlg?§afl Buy. By Wal‘ . Daughter. _ ‘ ' . ' miflv ‘- _-, - 9 [w/ z "13‘ Ge. _ r . ,, I l \ . ' IV {' I I; or ‘20an Girl” 01-, The Bride of am 11 5 t'f‘ingeblva‘tnaiid o:$1 Ifmeepa. By Wimz‘un A we 586W 0w? wedé \ I » l flanks”; or Basking 43‘ Ila-3‘33}: .7. 3» Henry Kingsley. ‘ . I, l i 7 ‘ 1‘33 WAVEW WWW izgogesglgybmggm 21m bloweil,_, ‘ 117 gnu fame 0&0?‘ or, The or 0 3:0 V , ,_ I Aime; .nope,amu Act: «swam» WI II 17W. - Imman- 1,063,913, m mus». Bx .1¥38.,A;g»;§:flgmyng€ WWW- P? 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