Out of the streets
page: 0 (TitlePage) [View Page 0 (TitlePage) ] OUT OF THE STREETS A STORY OF NEW YORK LIFE. BY CHARLES GAYER. NEW YORK: ROBERT M. DE WITT, PUBLISHER,l NO. 13 FRANKFORT STREET. page: 0[View Page 0] Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1869, by ROBERT M. DE WITT, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York. PAYNE BBOTHERS, ELECTROTYERS AND STEREOFYERS, i 26 SPRUCE-STREET. NEW YORK. MY EARLY AND GOOD FRIEND, THOMAS W. STRONG, ESQ., THS UNPRR TENDING STORY IS INSCRIBED, XI GRATEFUL REMEMBRANCE OF HS MANY KINDNESSES, AND AS A SLIGHT TORIEN- Or THE APPEOCIATION IN WHCH HS NOBLE AND GENEROUS QUALITIES ARE HELD BY HS OBEDIENT SERVANT, CHARLES GAYER, December, 1868 page: 0 (Table of Contents) [View Page 0 (Table of Contents) ] * i PAGE. CHAPTER I.-THE OUTCAST ................................. CHAPTER II.,-A WEDDING IN THE AVENUE, AND HOW IT CAME ABOUT ....................... ............... ............ 2.1 CHAPTER III.-WHAT HAPPENED ON THE COAST ........... ... 32 CHAPTER IV.--A WAIF oN THE SEA OF LIFE.............. 40 CHAPTER V.-A CONFIDENTIAL INTERVIEW, AND ITS RESULTS... 49 CHAPTER VI.-BLOOD MONEY-A NOCTURNAL CONFERENCE- SYDNEY HEATON IN THE TOILS ................... ....9.... CHAPTER VII.-A BARGAIN-THE PRICE OF KEEPING A SECRET AND THE COST OF SELF-EXPATRIATION .................... 64 CHAPTER VIII.-KATE PRITCHARD'S WIDOWHOOD, AND HOW SHE MANAGED TO BECOME A WIFE AGAIN. ....................... 68 CHAPTER IX.- THEi HOUSE IN GREAT JONES-STREET-THE MSS- ING DIAMONDS-THE POISONED RING--THE MRROR..,....... 73 CHAPTER X.--BROTHER AND SISTER EXCHANGE CONFIDENCES... 81 CHAPTER XI.-THE MNIATURE AND THE IMARRIAGE CERTIFICATE --SYDNEY HEATON'S PEACE OF MND IN MORE DANGER THAN EVER .................................... 86 ' CHAPTER XII.-THE CITY NURSERY-WAIFS AND ESTRAYS-AN ORPHAN'S INFANCY . ....... ..... o . ............. a 91 CHAPTER XIII.-RANDALL'S ISLAND ..... .................... 96 CHAPTER XIV.-THE LADY IN BLACK. ....................... 102 CHAPTER XV-LOST ................... ................. 109 CHAPTER XVI.-FOUND1 .... ......................... 117 CHAPTER XVIIL.-DESPERATION'-THE ESACAPE.. ........... 127 CHAPTER XVIII.-AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE--- BREAKFAST AL FRESCO ... .. .................... 134 CHAPTER XIX.-THjE LOVE WHCH MGHT HAVE SAVED--THE HATE WHCH WOULD DESTROY. .... ............... 145 page: 6 (Table of Contents) -7[View Page 6 (Table of Contents) -7] 6 CONTENTS. CHAPTER XX.--How SYDNEY HEATON TRIED TO PURCHASE PEACE .. .................. ..... ....... .................. 159 CHAPTER XXI.-DOUBTS AND FEARS-THE ANONYMOUS LET- TER ............... ........ . ..... .......... ........... * 165 CHAPTER XXII.-AT FAULT .......... .. ........... .... 173 CHAPTER XXIII.--UNCERTAIN PEACE ......................... 179 CHAPTER XXIV.--How THE SON OF THE OUTCAST, AND THE DAUGHTER OF THE MLLIONAIRE MET, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 183 CHAPTER XXV.-DICK WATKINS COMES TO GRIEF .............. 192 CHAPTER XXVI.-FASCINATION ... ........ ............... 203 CHAPTER XXVII.--THE TIGRESS STRIPPED OF, HER CLAWS..... 210 CHAPTER XXVIII.- OUT OF THE STREETS. ................... 217 CHAPTER XXIX.-THE TURN OF THE WHEEL ................. 225 CHAPTER XXX- LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM ....................... 236 CHAPTER XXXI.- THE RIVALS. .......................... 248 CHAPTER XXXII.--A DEFALCATION IN WALL-STREET, AND HOW IT WAS MANAGED. ........................................ 257 CHAPTER XXXIII.-IN THE MESH -THE DEFALCATION-MB. "OXLEY BALANCES HS ACCOUNTS ................................. 265 CHAPTER XXXIV.-MABERLY HEATON RECKONS WITHOUT HS HOST ................................................... 2" CHAPTER XXXV.-AGNES'S CONFESSION ..................... 281 CHAPTER XXXVI.--PETER PIVOT MAKES A DISCOVERY, AND AGNES FINDS 0COMFORT ........... ...... 286 CHAPTER XXXVII.-HARRY KEEPS HS PROMSE. ............. 294 CHAPTER XXXVIII.-WHAT HAPPENED IN CALIFORNIA ......... 299 CHAPTER XXXIX -THE DEVIL'S MLL-RACE--THE ESCAPE..... 309 CHAPTER XL.-THE MORNING DAWNS. ...................... 321 CHAPTER XLI.-RECOMPENSE ......................... 327 CHAPTER XLII.--AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE APPEARS ON THE STAGE 331 CHAPTER XLIII.-MADAME IS FOIED. ....................... 338 CHAPTER XIV.--WHAT HAPPENED IN THE HOUSE IN GREAT JONES-STREET ........................................ 344 CHAPTER XLV.-IN WHCH KATE PRITCHARD FINDS HER REWARD, AND HARRY HEARS OF SOMETHNG TO HS ADVANTAGE ........ 348 CHAPTER XLVI,--CONcLUSION ............................. 356 K PREFACE. AT the very latest moment, I am informed by the Publisher that I have not written a Preface. I am not surprised at this, because it had never entered my head to do any such thing, being content to give this story to the public on its merits--for just what it is worth-without saying a word which could be considered as asking for it more attention than it might command. But I was surprised to learn that a Preface was absolutely essential. The Printer expected it, because he had left the usual space for it: The Publisher expected it, because he had arranged with the Printer to print it: And the Public expected it, because no book was ever consid- ered complete without one. I could not, therefore, refuse to write a Preface, and thus dis- appoint Printer, Publisher and Public-three very potent P's with every author-and so sent word that the all important Preface should be forthcoming, though I could not resist protest- ing that I did not see the necessity for writing one, for the very simple reason that I did not believe it would be read if I did. But, if, perchance, any one should take the trouble to peruse these lines, I will avail myself of the opportunity, thus afforded me, of saying that the success of the following story, while run- ning through FRANK LESLIE'S CHMNEY CORNEIR-for which it 7 page: 8-9[View Page 8-9] 8 PREFACE. was originally written-was sufficient to induce Mr. DE WITT to risk its publication in its present form, and as I had already risked any literary reputation I might have by writing it, I could not see that I should increase that risk by allowing the Publisher to have his way. Such as it is, I give this book to the public. No one knows its faults better than myself, so that I shall not cavil with those who do not praise it, nor shall I plume myself greatly if any do. Let the reader decide on its merits for himself. It is a simple tale enough, founded on facts. Its characters are mostly people who now live-or have lived --amid the scenes in which they move in the narrative, and it is, at least, entitled to this negative merit: No one will be made much worse by reading it. I believe it has a moral. My Preface is written, and I am The Public's obedient servant, CHARLES GAYER. NEW YORx, December, 1868. i ,-. OUT OF TIlE STREETS. A STORY OF NEW YORK LIFE. CHAPTER I. THE O UTCAST. "Was it not pitiful Near a whole city full Home she had none."-HOOD. NIGHT has just fallen upon the great city, though it is early yet, and the business of the day is scarcely closed. A cold, still, starry winter's night. Streams of people fill the principal thoroughfares, to which constant additions are made from the side streets, each of which pours forth its hundreds to add to the surging human tide which flows toward up-town from the counting-rooms, offices, shops and work-rooms of down-town. Merchants, snug and comfortable in broadcloth, their faces wearing a satisfied look, in which one may read the assurance they feel of finding in the warm dinner and warmer welcome, and all the solid comforts which await them in their elegant houses, ample compensation for the cares and anxieties they have experienced during the business hours of the day, are jostled by stout mechanics clad in humble garb, yet hurrying, too, with impatient steps to their more modest dwellings, where as warm a welcome, though a scantier meal, perhaps, awaits them. Stevedores and laborers, in groups of five or six, each smoking his short clay pipe, and carrying in his hand a tin pail, which has contained his frugal dinner, discuss as they go the work of to-day and the chance of more work to-morrow. Young girls from the shop and bindery, from printing office and page: 10-11[View Page 10-11] 10 OUT OF THE STREETS. type foundery, walk briskly forward, stopping ever and anon to look into shop windows, to admire the goods and wares exposed to view, and sigh to think they are so far beyond their little means. Spruce young clerks, wearing knowing-looking hats and gay- colored neckties, turn round to gaze under the bonnets of the girls whom they pass, causing a blush in some, or inviting cut- ting remarks, in which the words "impudence"' and (puppy" are prominent, from others. Sharp-faced lads, munching peanuts or stunted apples, talk -loudly of the fun at the "theayter" last week, or of the jolly time they are going to have to-night at some cheap saloon or. concert-hall, or in the Bowery pit. Miserable wretches, in still more miserable rags, shiver and draw themselves together as if they were trying to crouch away from the cold air, which seems determined to vent its spite on them more viciously, being so shut out from the better-clad por- tion of the throng, whose warm garments defy its keen assaults. With what hungry, longing eyes these peer into the windows of the jewelers' shops, where rows of costly watches, piles of gewgaws, all of gold or silver, diamonds and emeralds, rubies and pearls, and every precious gem glisten, and sparkle in the flaring gaslight, and seem to mock them with their lustre! What a sight for shivering, starving poverty to gaze upon, only shut out from them by a fragile sheet of glass, which a smart blow would break and leave the wealth so coveted within their clutch! One gem among the hundreds there would give them all they lack, and more than they ever hoped for-bread, fire, clothing, a roof, a bed, and friends, perhaps, and Love. But the blow is-not struck; the brittle, fragile glass remains intact, and the poor wretches shuffle on, hugging their rags still closer. As the human tide flows on, it meets, still higher up, a gayer throng, bedizened out in flounces, flaunting ribbons, costly cloaks and shawls, and gaudy bonnets, set round faces, some of which are beautiful, and all of which are saucy, bold and hard. These do not mind the cold, for they are warmly clad, as well as richly, and as they pass the poor toilers of their own sex, whose hard labor scarce provides scant frocks of some cheap print, and thin skimp shawls, which bid but poor defiance to the winter OUT OF THE STREETS. I 1 weather, how strange the contrast! These painted, flaunting wretches, in their silks, their velvets, ribbons; jewels, possess all that their toiling sisters covet most. Let the preacher preach, "The wages of sin is death"-can these daughters of toil, who see Sin clad in purple and fine linen, who see it warm and sleek, and beautiful and gay, can they believe it? The wages of Toil is but a pittance grudgingly bestowed-a poor, cramped home, scant food, scant fire, a dress of homely pattern and coarse fabric, pinched, bloodless cheeks, dull routine, much pain and little pleasure. The wages of Sin is not Death, but Life-life free from toil; a home of luxury, soft carpets, rich mirrors, delicate nourish, ment, rare viands, dress, beauty, admiration, a round of fresh excitements, new pleasures, every hour. This is the preaching of the street upon this bitter winter night. What wonder, then, that many listen? Nay, the wonder is that so many listen not; that these poor, shivering drudges of the shop and factory are blind to such gay lures; that they turn a deaf ear to the tempter, who promises all they most crave if they will leave the dingy shops, their pent-iup work-rooms, their garrets and their poverty, and accept -the gay home and luxury, the ever-changing round of pleasure he will provide for them. Yet they do turn a deaf ear and hurry home to their poor, bare rooms, and lay them down content, praying, "Give us this day our daily bread; lead us not into temptation!" Does the rich and beautiful Mrs. Faulk Loxley think of this as she rides by in her snug and handsome carriage, wrapped in costly furs, and casts a sidelong, tired glance upon the hurrying crowd upon the sidewalk? Not she--why should she? What are these poor girls to her? She looks down upon them from her higher social sphere and sees them from afar. They are not of her set, and do not live i/n her world. She has never heard of thean in Society. Perhaps on Sundays when she kneels upon her velvet hassock in her fashionable church, she admits their existence in a general way when she hears the Rev. -Mr. Soft, down pray for ( all sorts and conditions of men," and she mur- tmurs, ( Amen" at the end of the supplication, according to the ritual. And so the rich and beautiful Mrs. Faulk Loxley passes them page: 12-13[View Page 12-13] 12 OUT OF THE STREETS. by without a thought, and goes home to her elegant mansion, to be made more beautiful by her French waiting-woman, from whose hands she escapes dreadfully bored, to dispense her smiles at the great wedding which takes place to-night in' the Avenue, and to which "Society" is Ridden, and from which she, the Queen of Society, cannot remain away! Does Sydney Heaton think of it as he drives his noble pair of bays up the wide, smooth pavement, sitting in his elegant Eng- lish dogcart with his servant behind him, stiff as an iron flunkey, with his arms folded, and looking stolidly before him over his master's head? Not he; he has other things to think of, for he weds to-night, and he and his best man, his bosom friend, Mark' Langton, who sits beside him, are hurrying to his elegant apartments to dress for the ceremony. Ah, but he has thought of them though, and has smirked and shrugged his shoulders, when aforetime, at the Club he has been rallied on his last conquest, and been called a "sad dog," and "f a lucky dog," and " a happy dog," and " a dog to be envied," after he has " trotted out" behind his shining bays one who has lis- tened to the voice of the Tempter, and who has left her dingy shop, her garret and her poverty, to accept the gay home and luxury he has provided for her. But that is all forgotten now; he weds to-night-weds youth and beauty, wealth and social station, and he has no time to think of those gay, roystering days, when, on such a night as this, he sought his victims on the crowded street, but drives on rapidly to prepare to meet his fair and trusting bride. He has been for hours with the lawyers arranging settlements and such practical preliminaries as cannot be neglected, when the rich M1. takes the rich N. "( for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, till death do them part."' There has been much to do, for the bride's father is a merchant prince, and is punctilious in all business transactions. So Sydney H[eaton is late, and, to save time, he turns down Bleecker-street, to avoid the throng of vehicles in Broadway, and speeds through Wooster-street, toward Washington Square. As he drives rapidly along in the dim light, a woman, pale, haggard, thinly clad, and heedless of the danger, attempts to OUT OF THE STREETS. 13 cross the street before him, and he sees her just in time. A mo- ment more and the spanking bays had dashed her to the ground. "; Whoa!-whoa!" cried Heaton, reining up the bays with a sudden jerk which nearly threw them on their haunches. "Whoa! Out of the way, woman. Why don't you mind where you are. going?" The woman stopped, at first mechanically, as though she were in a sort of stupor-; but when she heard his voice addressing her, the listless expression of her face changed to a wild, excited look, and she turned her gaze full upon him. A strange, ardent light shone in her dark, black eyes, and raising her thin, white hand, she pointed it at him, and seemed as if she would speak; but some spell was on her- and she uttered not a word. The light from the corner lamp fell full upon her pale and haggard face, which had once been beautiful, and as Heaton turned and addressed her as he did, he started as if he had seen some dreadful sight, and turned as pale as she; then in an in- stant recovering himself, he urged his horses forward and quickly disappeared, leaving the woman standing there like some weird and ghastly phantom. Heer eyes were turned in the direction in which Heaton had disappeared, and she remained motionless, for a moment,- then, as if in obedience to a sudden impulse, she started forward quickly as if to follow the vehicle. She moved but a single step, when she stopped again, and muttered to herself. , No, no! It cannot be! I am mad to think of it! The sea will not give up its dead! My God, whither shall I go; where shall I turn in this, the hour of my agony?" she exclaimed, after a pause, as she burst into tears, and clung to the lamp-post for support. For a short time she gave vent to her grief, and then, as if prompted by. a firm and determined purpose, she gasped out: "Yes, to the river! To the river! There shall my weary heart find rest!" The same listless expression it had worn at first came over her face once mnore, as she turned her steps toward Broadway. On, on she went, facing the cruel, biting wind, against which page: 14-15[View Page 14-15] " OUT OF THE STREETS . her feebleness could scarce make headway, looking straight on, nor turning to the right nor to the left. Some coarse men, walking arm in arm, barred her passage, and she stopped. They made way for her with mock politeness, and as she passed them, greeted her with vile words and horrid jests. She seemed to heed them not, but still kept on until she became a part of the throng of the great thoroughfare, and went with the tide which now had set the other way. Onward she went past gay saloons, in front of which men lounged, smoking and watching the ever-varying throng. Past gay shops, dazzling with light and finery. Past happy groups of men and women going to the theatre, and hurrying on to be in time and miss no portion of the merry show. Past the theatres into which crowds were pouring, and whose glaring lights out- side shone on her pale and care-worn face, making it look more ghastly still. She took no notice of anything, but kept right on, the crowd giving her way, as if she were an object to be loathed or feared. Some turned to look back at her, and one lady, with a pretty child clinging to her hand, turned to her husband, upon whose arm she leaned, and said: "Poor creature. Did you notice her face, how deathly pale it was?" But no one spoke to her. Some laughed; some jeered, as occa. sionally she faltered in her step, or clung to some near object for support until she'gathered strength to totter on again-growing weaker, fainter at each step. Nature gave way at last, and she could go no further. She fell fainting upon the steps of a large store upon the cor- ner of the street. A crowd gathered. "What's the matter?" asked a passer-by. "Only a drunken woman," was the short response, as the speaker dug his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat, and- trotted on to keep himself warm. A policeman forced his way through the crowd, and taking the woman by the arm, shook her roughly, saying: "Come, get up." As she made no response, ho shook her roughly again, and OUT OF THE STREETS. 15 turned her face to the light. Its ghastly paleness struck even the policeman with horror, and he dropped her arm and staggered back. "Is she dead?" asked a man standing near the policeman. ( She staggered just before she fell, and I thought she was drunk, but that is not the face of a drinking woman!"' The policeman stooped over her and partly raised her from the ground, and kneeling beside her, supported her head while the person who had last spoken chafed her hands. In a few mo- ments she sighed heavily, and partly opened her eyes. "Faith she's not dead, at any rate," said the policeman; " but, sure, if she stays here long, she will be. I'll have to take her in, any way. Come, get up, now, and come along with me, acushla!" "To the river! to the river!" she raved; staring wildly about her. ( Divil a river will ye see the night, so rise yourself and come along," the policeman answered, as, putting his hands under each arm, he lifted her to her feet. She reeled, and would again have fallen, but that a little, dap- per man caught her, and turning to the policeman while he sus- tained her in his arms, asked in a strong, Cockney accent: "Whydon't you call a 'ackney coach? Don't you see the poor thing is too weak to stand, much less walk? Call a 'ackney coach, and be quick about it, too, or she will die 'ere in the h'open h'air!" "And who's to pay the coach, then?" asked the policeman. "Sure I can't be providin' carriages for every one that's too drunk to walk." "I tell you she's not drunk! What do you want to be culmina- ting the poor woman that way for?" exclaimed the Cockney, indignantly. "She's not drunk, she's h'ill, and if nobody h'else will pay for the coach, why, I will, and there's a h'end h'on it! Ho f 'ere, driver," he continued, calling to a coach, which hap- pened to pass just then. "Ho! I say, come 'ere with your 'ack, will you?" The man brought his coach to the corner, and the policeman, assisted by the kind-hearted Cockney, placed the woman within, and followed himself. "Where shall I drive to?" asked the hackman. page: 16-17[View Page 16-17] 16 OUT OF TiHE STREETS. "I'm blessed if I know," the Englishman answered. "Oh, old h'on," he added, putting his head in the carriage window. "Hi, p'liceman, where shall he set you down?" "At the Tombs," was the gruff reply, " and be after getting there as soon a you can, for the woman has fainted again!" 'Ow much is the fare, driver?" asked the Cockney. "Two dollars, sir!" "There's your money, though it's a shameful contortion; now drive on and make 'aste, or the poor thing will be as dead as a 'erring before you get there," said the generous Englishman, giv- ing him the amount of his fare. "Poor thing," he continued; "she is dreadful h'ill. 'Urry h'on to the Tombs, and I say, in case I should be' wanted for anything in my line, you'd better take my card, though everybody knows me a'most. Here it is," he added, poking a card into the policeman's hand. "Peter Pivot, Undertaker. Now be h'off!" The driver whipped up his sorry steeds, and drove in the direc- tion of the Tombs, the crowd standing to watch the carriage un til it was out of sight, and then separated in different directions. Mr. Peter Pivot pursuing his way up-town, expressing his sym- pathy for the poor woman, and denouncing the hard-heartedness of the policeman, who he declared " ought to be expectorated by every decent maln for his 'orrible cruelty." Arriving at the portals of that monument to the civilization, good taste, and charity of New York, the City Prison, appropri- ately called "The Tombs," the policeman entered the room where the officer in charge presided. "Well, O'Brien, what is it?" asked the sergeant. "It's a woman, sir, out beyant, in a carriage." "In a carriage?" "Yes; sure, your honor, she couldn't walk, and a gentleman above, he paid the hire, and I brought her in a carriage!" "Drunk?" "No, your honor, I think not. She don't look it, nor she don't smell of it. But she's powerful wake, and I think we'll soon be having an inkwest on her!" "Well, then, why don't you bring her in at once?" inquired the sergeant, impatiently. "2 Because I can't do it alone; she's in a dead faint!" OUT OF THE STREETS. 17 So help was called, and the woman was brought into the room. She had recovered her consciousness, and walked feebly be- tween the two men, who led her in front of a high desk, behind which the sergeant placed had himself with all the dignity which became his exalted station. "Well, woman, what are you brought here for?" "To die, I hope," she faintly murmured. "Better die here than in the street!" 1"Pshaw! Nonsense! Women like you- are not so easily killed! What is the charge, officer? Where did you find her?" The officer related his story, to which the sergeant listened im- patiently, and then blurted out: "What is your name?" "Mary Wright," she faintly answered, after a little hesitation. "Married or single?" "Married." "Where's your husband?" "Dead! Drowned last summer. Oh she exclaimed, " if you have mercy, take me away from here! I dying, and you will have another death to answer for, if---- "Put her in number six," said the sergeant, cutting her short. The policeman hesitated a moment, and then going behind. the desk, whispered- some words to the sergeant, in which refer- ence was made to " rats." "Very well, then, put her in number seven!" The sergeant growled as he turned to make an entry of the case in a book before him. Again the policeman spoke some words in a low tone to the sergeant, who, after listening a moment. exclaimed angrily: "Then why did you bring her here? The hospital is the place for such a case as this. Take her there at once.'; "I fear, your honor, it is too late," said the policeman; "but I'll try any way." But here the woman gave a piercing scream and fainted again. "I'd better take her to the matron, sergeant, I think, sir," urged the policeman. t"Then take her, and be quick about it, and look out how you bring such cases here again," answered the sergeant, gruffly, and continued his memorandums in the book before him. page: 18-19[View Page 18-19] 18 OUT OF THE STREETS. The officer needed no further bidding, and with the assistance of another policeman, the woman was carried to the opposite side of the building, appropriated to the female prisoners, and placed in the charge of the matron, There, within an hour, just as the City Hall clock struck nine, on that cold and bitter winter's night, within those gloomy prison walls; surrounded by felons, but a few feet from the horrible gallows-yard, within whose dreadful precincts even -then, they 0 were preparing the machinery to choke a human being to death next day, according to law, in an atmosphere reeking with crime, with everything degraded and degrading, the outcast gave birth to a child-a boy. As the day dawned the matron of the prison and a female prisoner who had been arrested a day or two before, on a charge A of obtaining goods under false pretences, sat watching the woman, who had fallen into a deep and heavy slumber. The prisoner's name was Kate Pritchard. She was still young, and very beau- tiful. Her eyes were jet black, and shone with a strange, pene- trating light, like those of a tiger, and as she sat, with her hands folded over each other in front of her, breathing softly, there was something very cat-like about her-so much so, she really seemed to "purr." As her offence was a slight one, and the proofs not very strong against her, and having,.besides, the faculty of exercising a sort of feline fascination over almost everybody with whom she came in contact, she was not made to conform strictly to prison rules, and having volunteered to keep the matron company in watching the sick woman, had left her cell to do so. "She seems to be sleeping very calmly now. I will go and bring Bridget and Hannah to remain with her, and then we can both take some rest," said the matron, rising. "You can remain till I come back; I shall not be long." Kate Pritchard nodded her head, smiled, and gave a purr of assent as the matron left the room. She had no sooner done so than Kate rose and bent closely over the cot upon which the mother and her new-born babe were sleeping, and after throwing a rapid glance around her, to make sure she was not watched, she stealthily drew from the bosom of the unconscious sufferer a very delicate gold chain, to which was OUT OF THE STREETS. 19 fastened a small locket. In drawing the locket away it became entangled in the folds of the garment, and in endeavoring to re- lease it she felt something rustle under her hand. "I was sure of it," she muttered; " sure she had something about her that would be worth finding." Saying this, she drew forth a piece of folded paper and the locket together. "Let us see," she said to herself, as she opened the locket by touching a spring. "As I suspected when I first saw the chain glisten in the light three hours ago. A daguerreotype of a young man-her lover, I suppose. A good-looking, handsome fellow, too. I have seen that face somewhere, I am sure. Well, well! we shall see. All in good time." She placed the chain and locket in her bosom as she spoke, and opening the piece of paper, she smiled as she glanced over it, saying, "A certificate of marriage! Ho! ho! Richard Norman to Helen Fairly, December 12th, 18-. So, so! Then she was married, after all, and to the handsome orignial of this picture, I suppose. Such a fine-looking fellow to throw himself away on her!" The door opened, and the matron re-entered the room, followed by two women in prison garb, and Kate Pritchard, quickly con- cealing the paper in her dress, turned softly, gently as a cat, to- ward the sleeping woman on the cot. As she did so, the poor creature opened her eyes and glanced wildly about her. 4( Where am I?" she gasped. "Who are you? Where'am I? Ha! I remember! My child! my poor little babe!" she mur- mured, in a soft and tender voice, trying to raise hier head to look at the young innocent nestled beside her. ( "How do you feel now?" asked the matron. "' You must not excite yourself, you know, but be perfectly quiet, and you will soon come round again. Yes, yes. There! there!. don't cry; we will make you as comfortable as we can!" "Oh, please do lift me up, so that I may see him just once. I will be quiet then, indeed I will, but let me see him once. I shall not trouble you again!" The kind matron could not resist this appeal, but gently sup- porting her in her arms, raised her so that she might look upon the sleeping babe. The little darling!" she sobbed. - "Would it not have been page: 20-21[View Page 20-21] OUT OF THE STREETS. better far if the dark river had received us both P Ah, Richard! Richard! that it should come to this! Listen ! " she said, very faintly to the matron; " listen! I am going to leave my little darling. I feel that I am going fast. Be kind to him when I am gone, and if you can help it, never let him know that he was born here, or that his mother died here. .Hold him up to me, please. that I may kiss him once, just once-the first and last. I shall die happier with the thought that I have kissed my poor unhappy, lonely little darling." "Don't talk in that way," said the matron soothingly, as she laid the dying woman back upon the pillow. " You will live for years yet, to nurse and love your little boy." " No ! no ! I have borne too much-endured too much. My time has come. Quick ! let me see him ! Lay him upon my breast and let my heart beat its last throb while he is sleeping on it! " Go for the doctor, quick! " the matron whispered hurriedly, to one of attendants. "Quick!" Then lifting the tiny sleeper, she laid the soft young cheek against the pale and sunken face of the mother, who, with a quick, convulsive effort, pressed the infant close to her, laid her cold and bloodless lips tenderly against the tiny, rosy mouth of the child, and sighing gently, lay quite still, as if content. The clock strikes six. Kate Pritchard stands looking on, her bright eyes shining with a more dazzling light than ever as she softly turns and presses her hand upon the crumpled paper and locket in her bosom. Has the doctor come ?" whispered the matron. Yes, he is there, holding the pale thin hand of the poor wan- derer in his own, and the loud tick of his watch is audible even above the soft purr, purr of the woman with the wicked, daz- zling eyes, but he shakes his head and lays the white, trans- parent hand softly down. He has come too late. With that gentle sigh of content mark- ing her first maternal kiss, the flickering lamp of life went out, and the mother lay dead beside her new-born babe. OUT OF THE STIEE;TS. 21 CHAPTER II. A WEDDING IN TIE AVENUE, AND HOW IT CAME ABOUT. " A ring's put on, A prayer or two is said, you are man and wife, And there's an end."-SHERIDAN KNOWLES. SOCIETY is in a state of excitement to-night. For weeks noth- ing has been talked of but the great wedding which is to take place between the young, rich and handsome Sydney Heaton and the young, rich and beautiful Blanche Maberly. Blanche Maberly is the daughter of old Peter Maberly, the great merchant, whose ships float on every sea, and who is supreme on 'Change. He began life a poor, friendless boy, whose only capacity was industry, shrewdness, cunning, a faculty for bar- gain-making, and a grasping disposition. This capital he invested on all occasions to the best possible advantage. He worked early and late. He never forgot anything that appeared to him worth remembering. He ingratiated himself with everybody whom he thought could be useful to him in any possible way, and took advantage of every one weaker than himself. He saved every cent he earned, or made by petty dickering. He half starved himself, and lived up to the good old "Poor Richard" motto, which taught him that " a Penny saved was a Penny earned." From the warehouse, where he began as a porter's drudge, he worked his way into the counting-room, and in the counting- room he pushed, elbowed, and squeezed his way, step by step, till at last he became a junior partner in the great house of Waxem & Co. He still kept on pushing, squeezing and elbowing harder than ever, till Death assisted him by pushing old Waxen, into his grave, and Peter Maberly went up a grade higher in the com- mercial world, and still kept squeezing and elbowing until he elbowed all who stood in his way out of it, and squeezed the old page: 22-23[View Page 22-23] 22 OUT OF THE STREETS. firm out of existence, and the name of Peter Maberly took its place. When he became junior partner he had married-not for love, ! but for money-the only daughter of John Sharp, a thrifty bill- i broker in Wall-street, who died within a year or two, leaving all his property, consisting of Bank-stock and Real'Estate, to Peter Maberly, in trust for his wife and children. As Peter thoroughly recognized the fact that he and his wife were bone of one bone, and flesh of one flesh, so far as his inter- ests were concerned, and that whatever was hers was his, and that !r which was his was his own, neither the Bank-stock nor the Real ' Estate grew less under his fostering care, so that when a Son was born to them, which did not occur until some five years after the : death of Grandpa Sharp, it could be said of the young Peter with perfect truthfulness that he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Whether it was the spoon that didn't agree with him, or whether his naturally weak constitution found that valuable but unnat- ! ural appendage too much for it to bear, or from whatever other cause, Peter Junior died a day or two after his sister Blanche was born, and the silver spoon was thus, in the course of events, transferred from him to her. Peter grew richer and richer day by day, and the little Blanche grew stronger and prettier every hour, until she became the dar- ling of her mother, who was a weak-minded but kindly woman, and the pet of her father, who, we suppose, not being an excep- tion to the rule that everybody, even the Peter Maberlys, must have something to love, loved the pretty, little, prattling child with his whole heart and soul, or rather with as much of the former as the love of the Almighty Dollar would admit room for, and with all the latter, though that did not add much to the sum total of affection, as it was so small. When Blanche was ten years old her mother followed little Peter, leaving all her fortune to Blanche, who thus became the sole heiress of Grandpa Sharp, and more precious than ever in the eyes of her father. The Bank-stock and the Real Estate; too, grew more precious every day, and Peter's ships grew in size and number and brought richer cargoes; while Mr. Maberly grew more and more potent OUT OF THE STREETS. 23 on 'Change and in Wall-street, and Blanche began oe spoken of as one of the richest heiresses in New York. Mr. Maberly bought an elegant mansion in the Avenue, and Mr. Maberly's sister, an unexceptionable and careful housewife, came to take charge of it. Blanche was sent to the best schools, and was provided with the best masters. Under this training she became a throughly accomplished young lady. She cou ld sketch well, play well,. dance well, sing well; spoke French and Italian charmingly, and when she was pronounced chy M[adame Fallal quite ,"finished," was properly brought out under the auspices of Mrs. Foulke Loxley, and at once took her place in Society as a belle of the first water and ax heiress. Sydney Heaton, upon whom sne is to bestow her hand, and as much of her fortune as may have been agreed upon- is the son of Samuel Heaton, president of ever so many Insurance Companies, and director in ever so many Banks, besides being the president of the "National Transit Company," and a tower of strength in Wall-street. He is externally the antipodes of Peter Maberly, for he is a tall, princely-0ooking gentleman, elegant in manners and person, possessing refined taste, a good education, a high appreciation of art, and is as great a person in Society as he is in Wall-street. He has, however, been as successfulin making merchandise of his appearance, his elegance, his taste, education and refinement, as Peter has been with his peculiar qualities, and has been, to all appearance, quite as prosperous in finance as the great merchant has been with his ships. So it was very natural that the elegant Mr. Heaton and the rich but inelegant Mr. Maberly should be mutually satisfied when it began to be buzzed about in Society that it was more than likely that a son of the one and the daughter of the other were about to make a match of it. The gossip was by no means a surprise to the father of Sydney Heaton, for, long before Society had given the idea a thought, that kind father and elegant gentleman had, in his own mind, selected the heiress as an eligible match for his son; in fact the wedding which takes place to-night, and which causes such a flutter in Society is but the result of Mr. Hieaton's diplomacy. page: 24-25[View Page 24-25] 24 OUT OF THE STREETS. One day during the previous summer, as M[r. Heaton and his i son sat sipping their wine after dinner and chatting on a variety of subjects, among which, Society was by no means forgotten, the father, turning to the son, asked: "M]y dear boy, when are you going to choose a wife?" The question was asked abruptly, but then it was not so ex- traordinary an inquiry that it needed to have startled the young ,man as it did, for it did startle him like an electric shock, and caused him to turn as pale as death for a moment, and then, look- ! ing his father full in the face, as though he would read his inmost, thoughts, he repeated his father's last words, "A wife!" " "Why, how you start! you really make me feel quite nervous," a replied the father, in his turn eyeing his son with a look of curi- osity. "Is the idea so new to you?" "Quite, I assure you," returned the younger man, recovering I his composure. "I have never given the subject a thought." "Then, it is quite time you did," replied Mr. Heaton, filling his wine-glass, 4 and the sooner you begin to look about you the [ better." "I see no particular reason for being in haste," said Sydney. "I am young, my present bachelor life is an agreeable one, and a wife would be rather in tne way than otherwise. In a year or two I may think seriously of suCh a matter." "A year or two! my dear boy, that will never do," urged the father in his blandest tones. "Procrastination is the thief of time, and in a year or two it may be too late." "Too late! Why, I am but twenty-five. Thirty is young enough for a man of my position to marry." "You are wrong," Mr. Heaton replied. "Your position re- quires -that you should marry now. Society demands it, and what is more, your interests demand it." "My interests?" "Your interests! You have met Blanche ]Maberly?" -asked She father carelessly. "Yes," replied the son, as carelessly as he. "We met first at Saratoga, last season, and often since at different houses." "What do you think of her?" "She is a stylish girl, .accomplished, handsome, agreeable, with- out much heart, a great coquette, and- OUT OF THE STlEETS. 2 "An heiress," added the father, interrupting him. "She has a large fortune in her own right, and will have a much larger one when old Peter Maberly sleeps with his fathers. He is worth five millions, at least. She is young, beautiful, and, as you say, accomplished. As for her heart, that is neither here nor there. She is an elegant woman, and will fill all the requirements which Society demands of the wife of my son. What more can you ask?" The son paused a moment or two, ere he replied, and his face assumed a perplexed, thoughtful, and almost painful expression. At last he rose and said: "My dear father, I should be most happy to meet your views in all matters, but I hope that you have not set your heart on this affair, because it will pain me very much to be the pause of disappointing any plans you may have formed, having what you suppose my happiness in view." "But I have set my heart upon it," replied the father, earn- estly. "It is a most desirable match, and I have already broached the subject to Peter Maberly. He is well disposed toward the arrangement, and I shall be much disappointed if I find you are inclined to make any objections." "I am very sorry that it has gone so far," replied the young man, " and regret exceedingly that I cannot do as you desire; but you force me to speak plainly, and oblige me to inform you that the marriage you propose is impossible!" "Impossible!" exclaimed the father. "And may I ask why? "For many reasons. In the first place, I do not love the girl. I am not disposed to choose a wife as a man might choose a spec- ulation. I do not care to give up the pleasures of my youth and marry the first woman who happens to be thrown in my way, merely because she is rich.- Besides, why should I marry for money alone? We are rich, and my social position is assured. When I marry I shall do so for love, and not for lucre; and so, dear father, let the wrinkles which don't become you, fade out of your brow, and let us change the subject. Do you go to the opera to-night?" "Please be seated," the father replied, in a calm voice, though the brighter light in his usually cold gray eyes, and the deepen- page: 26-27[View Page 26-27] 26 OUT OF THE STREETS. ing color in his cheek, betrayed more feeling than his tone X expressed--" please be seated and listen to me.' The young man took a chair, and, though he also appeared calm. it was evident that the calmness was only assumed. "I have listened to you," the father continued--" listened with pain and surprise; with pain because you give no better reason for thus thwarting me in an object which is dear to me, and with j surprise that you should attempt to deceive me, for I am sure that you have other and more serious reasons than the frivolous X excuses you have just made for rejecting so eligible an alliance X as that which I have proposed. Be more candid; say that you , have already made choice of a wife." Again the son started, as if he felt a pang of pain. - ("Some pretty, romantic, milk-sop of a girl, I suppose, of poor - but honest parents." "Bah! I assure you, sir----" the son began. X "Please to listen to me without interruption," -said the elder. X "( I have something more to say, which may, perhaps, have the : effect of cooling your romance a little. The world thinks me rich. Do not start. I am quite rich. Rich enough for your purposes and mine. But I am standing on the brink of a preci- pice, and within a short time I shall be involved in ruin, unless you save me." "Ruin!" exclaimed the young man. "n What do you mean?;' "What I say," replied his father. "My liabilities are enormous. I have speculated largely in stocks, and my speculations have been unfortunate. Everything seems to have gone against me. My situation is unknown. It is not even suspected, and by careful management and a judicious use of my credit, I may be able to ward off the crash for a tinme, at least until this marriage is accomplished. Once in possession of this girl's fortune, it will be in your power to save me. Without it, I shall be a beggar, and you a beggar's son. Nay more, my character, is at stake, for exposure would be sure to follow the disclosure of my real situa- tion, and I have been obliged to resort to means to sustain my- self which the world would scarcely call honorable and which the law might pronounce felonious. Now judge whether you are justified in refusing the alliance I have offered, and whether you OUT OF THE STREETS. 27 are willing for the sake of a mere boyish sentiment to sacri- fice wealth, happiness, honor, all!" The young man looked at his father aghast. liad the earth yawned at his feet he would not have been more astonished than he was. What! he a beggar son! He, nursed in affluence, brought up in luxury, who had never known a wish that he could not gratify, who had never d-onied himself anything which could add to his pleasures, flatter his pride or feed his vanity, he lose all this! He sink down to the dead level of the common herd, who had always looked up to the rich and happy Sydney Heaton as a being to be envied? No, no. It should not be! But then-well, what then? He would be a fool, an idiot, a sentimental imbecile, to let any obstacle stand between him and such a dire, dreadful change! Nothing should! He would be Sydney Heaton still. At any cost, at any sacrifice, he would! All this passed through his mind as he sat gazing in his father's face, stunned to all appearance by the revelation he had listened to. "When you have recovered from the shock which my frank confession seems to have caused," said his father, assuming his wonted coolness, "I shall be happy to know your decision. Will you marry Blanche Maberly?" "Will Blanche Maberly marry me?" the son inquired, with compressed lips, and in a determined, reckless tone, as if he had made up his mind to do some deed which desperation alono could prompt. "Will this girl marry me, sir? That is the question now!" "You say 'she has little heart," replied the father, now quite cool, and sipping his wine. "I think she has none. You are considered a catch by all the managing mammas in Society; her father favors you; she believes you rich-you are as yet--and she will never suspect you of mercenary motives. You are young, popular--I do not wish to flatter you-by no means, ill looking-I was much like you at your age--your position is un- exceptional, and with these advantages in your favor, there is no doubt but that your suit will be successful. Do you consent. to try?" "I do," replied the young man, swallowing a glass of wine at page: 28-29[View Page 28-29] 28 OUT OF THE STREETS. a gulp. "I do. Desperate diseases require desperate remedies. Within a month, I hope to say to you, Father, your wish is an- J swered, the rich heiress is mine [" ( Spoken like my own son," the father exclaimed, taking the ! young man by the hand. "I knew I might depend on you. You will save me, and saving me, you save yourself." The next day Mr. Heaton. Senior, had a long interview with A Peter ]Maberly, and the shrewd and cunning shipowner, the wily : merchant, who had overreached so many people in his time, and l who pushed and squeezed and elbowed his way so well, went away from that interview rubbing his hands, and congratulat- ing himself upon the belief, that the Stocks and Real Estate of his beautiful daughter were well set off against the Stocks and Bank accounts of the son of the rich financier. Within a month Sydney Heaton was the accepted suitor of Blanche LMaberly, and Society had something to talk about. . He left town the day after he had imparted this welcome in- j telligence to his father, and made that respectable person happy by taking a great load off his mind. He told no one where he was going. He merely remarked to his father that he should leave town for a few weeks to escape being bored by the congrratulations of Society, and went away. tWhen he returned, he seemed. changed. His friends emaarked J that he was not in his usual spirits. Something seefed to be ,weighing on his mind. He appeared older too, and more sedate, as j became a man about to assume the responsibilities of married life. Society remarked all this, perhaps; but if it did, it said but little about it, for the cards for the grand wedding were issued just in time to put everything else out of Society's head, and it had as much as it could do with modistes, milliners and tailors, without bothering with anything else. And to-night the wedding takes place. Peter Maberly has not spared expense. The elegant mansion is resplendent in new furniture, new upholstery, and a world- of adornments. Rare flowers bloom in the halls, on the stairways, in the drawing-rooms. Lights shine from every window. The costhest, and most delicate wines are cooling in their arctic recesses or warming up to the proper temperature to suit the deli- cate palates of Society, ; . " OUT OF THE STREETS. 29 Peter lMEaberly can afford to come out on this occasion as he has never come out before, for the settlements have been carefully drawn, and he thinks he has achieved rather the best of the bar- gain. And now Society pours in at the wide portal. Mrs. Foulk Loxley is there, and all who follow in her train. Diamonds sparkle in the light, lovely eyes flash with pleasure or with envy. The immense drawing-rooms seem to be the very shrine of Fashion. Lovely women and elegant men worship her together, and vie with each other who shall lay the dearest sacrifices at her feet. Societys most fashionable clergyman, the Rev. Mr. Softdown, has arrived, and bows and nods and smiles around him, and looks so meek, so sleek, so handsome-anything but like a " la. borer in the vineyard," or a laborer at all. His voice is soft and sweet, his hands are small and white, his robes are pure and spotless, and he holds his gold-clasped prayer-book in his hand and pats it patronizingly occasionally when he speaks. -Now there is a buzz outside in the halls;, there is a rustle of silks and satins; the bridal party is descending the stairs. The Rev. Mvjr. Softdown rises and opens his prayer-book at the proper place, ladies sigh and flutter their fans in nervous excitement, M1rs. Foulk Loxley looks calm and beautiful, as becomes a Queen of Society, and Peter Maberly enters the room with Blanche Maberly upon his arm. Sydney Heaton comes next, escorting Mr. Maberly's sister, followed by Mark Langton, with a lovely woman-a bridesmaid-upon his arm, and other men follow with other lovely women, bridesmaids, too, upon their arms, and the Bridal Party range themselves in front of the pretty conserva- tory at the end of the drawing-room, confronted by the Rev. Mr. Softdown. ' The bride is beautiful. She is tall, but with a perfectly rounded figure. tHer pretty head sits proudly upon her graceful neck. Her forehead is white and low. Her hair is of a dark, silky brown, and is arranged in wavy masses, which a wreath of orange blossoms and diamonds gleaming here and there set off to great advantage. Her eyes are of that peculiar tint between a gray and brown, so often read of yet so seldom seen; her nose page: 30-31[View Page 30-31] 30 OUT OF THE STREETS. is petite, and- piquantly retrousse; her mouth is small and finely cut; her teeth are pearly white; her chin is round and dimpled slightly, and her complexion is of a pure, rich tint, heightened a little in color as she feels the sharp battery of the curious and a admiring eyes around her. There is no other indication of ex- citement. She stands calmly and self-possessed, with not even a heart flutter visible beneath the lace which shrouds her lovely neck and bosom. Sydney Heaton looks worthy of such a bride; but there is a shadow on his face, an expression, more- of determination than pleasurable expectation, as he stands looking at the clergyman, .; who, with a delicate cough clears his throat and begins the brief e exordium to the ceremony. He reads the words in full, clear tones, and the " dearly beloved j brethren" hear them, and think he reads them well, and so he ? does; but they mean nothing to any one who listens there. "Who gives this woman to this man?" - Peter Maberly gives this woman to this man, and delivers her over like a merchant prince, as he is, in strict fulfillment of a busi- ness contract. "If any one know just cause or impediment wuhy this man and this woman should not be joined together according to God's holy ordinance, i let him now speak, or forever after hold his peace." A pause. Does no one speak? No one. Who knows of any cause or impediment which should prevent the joining of this pair? Not Peter Maberly, or, if he did, he had never given his consent at all. Not Samuel tBeaton, so proud and elegant, with such, a Ches- terfield, air pervading him as he stands near, with Mrs. Foulk Loxley upon his arm. Oh, no, he knows of no impediment! Not his gallant, his obedient son, either, sirely, though a tremor passes over him as he hears the question asked, and he drops his eyelids for a moment, as if to shut out something from his sighlt which he would fain not see. It is a vision of a pale and shivering woman, whom the gallant bays so nearly trampled - * n hour or so ago.? Does he see that strange, ardent light which Bashes from her dark, sunken eyes as she stands speechless in the street, with her thn white hand pointing at him? OUT OF THE STREETS. 31 No, no! iWhy should such a vision force itself upon him at such a time? e looks the clergyman in the face, with a stead- fast and unwavering look, and with compressed lips, a little pale, perhaps, awaits the progress of the holy rite. No one has spoken. None know of any just cause or impediment, and no sound is heard save the tones of a neighboring churoh clock, striking the hour of nine, which fall upon the ear with a muffled sound, a vibration following like a stifled wail. But there is no impediment in that, and so the ceremony goes on to the end. The hands are joined, the vows are spoken, the ring put on, the prayer is said, and Sydney Heaton and Blanche Maberly are pronounced man and wife. "What God hath joined together, let no matn put asunder." Society breathes freer. The suspense is over. Society con- gratulates the happy pair, and many envy both. But if those who envied Sydney Heaton could have seen all that was hidden under the mask he wore, could have foreseen the 'future, or have known the past, would they have envied him ' What his own heart would have answered, let these pages show. page: 32-33[View Page 32-33] 32 OUT OF THE STREETS. CHAPTER III. WHAT HAPPENED ON THE COAST. i "T have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins, That almost freezes up the heat of life."--RoMEo AND JULIET. 3 PETER PIVOT continued his way until he came to Houston- street, into which he turned and entered a public-house called "THE WOODCOCK," well-known in those days as a popular resort j for Englishmen, where jolly good ale, famous rarebits and juicy i chops and steaks were dispensed to those who hungered and j thirsted after such luxuries. i] He took his place at one of the small tables with which the room was plentifully furnished, and addressing the jolly-faced ! landlord, ordered a mug of " arf-an-arf," adding, "And I say, Bob, my good fellow, draw it with a 'ed, you know, will yer?" Being supplied with this inspiring beverege, Peter's face , 'became immediately partially eclipsed within the periphery of i the mug of foaming ale, and after taking a long and hearty drink, he smacked his lips, and setting the tankard down, exclaimed, "Ah, that's precious good stuff, and just the thing for such a night as this. It's h'orful cold, and a drop of h'ale cheers me up a bit, after the sight I've seen." "Where have you been, and what have you seen? asked the landlord, taking a seat beside Peter. "I've'been down town buying trimmings, coffin-plates, and what not," answered Peter, " and what do you think, as I came along, I saw a woman, a young and decentish woman, too, stag- ger and fall down, fell like a stone, upon the steps of a 'ouse. When h'up steps a p'leceman and shakes her h'up and h'insists on her moving h'on; but bless your 'art, she couldn't move h'on, for you see, she was in a state of sycophancy!" , A state of what'v " asked the landlord; " what the deuce do you mean by sycophancy? Was she tipsy?" \ OUT OF THE STREETS. 33. N"Not a bit of it. What should I mean? rShe was senseless to be sure. Fainted dead away; regular sycophancy, you know!" "Oh, I see; you mean syncope?" "Well, yes, I suppose I do. I'm a terrible chap Lor mistakes. When I say one thing, I often mean another, which I suppose is all along of my not having learned orthodoxy when I was a boy." Whether it was because Peter had never devoted much of'his time to the study of " orthodoxy," as he said-meaning orthog- raphy-or not, he was famous among his rather large circle of acquaintances for misusing in the most ludicrous manner, the largest and most high sounding words, so that it was frequently difficult to get at his real meaning. This habit of Peter's was the cause of much quiet fun amonig all who. knew him, and his more intimate friends used to delight in drawing him out, for the mere sake of laughing at his curious malapropisms, at which the good-natured Cockney never took offence, but enjoyed the joke as well as anybody. '"Well, what did they do with her?" asked the landlord. "Why, they took 'er to the Tombs, to be sure, and the 'ard- 'arted beast of a p'leceman wanted her to walk, but she couldn't, you know, she was so weak and thin and emancipated. - I never saw a face more emancipated in all my life." "You mean emaciated, Peter!" "Yes, I suppose I do," Peter continued. "What's the h'odds, so as you h'understand me? Well, to make a long story short, they took her to the Tombs in a carriage." "Which you paid for! I know you did!" exclaimed the land- blord, slapping the Cockney on the shoulder. "Just like you. You are always doing some good-natured thing or another; so empty your mug, and have another with me " "(Well, I don't mind," answered Peter, ' if I have a drop of gin, 'ot, you know, to warm a chap h'up a bit!" As Peter sat sipping his gin and water by himself, the land- lord being busy with other customers, a tall, slim countryman, in a suit of gray homespun clothes, and wearing a slouch hat, came awkwardly toward the table where Peter was sitting, and took a chair opposite to him. "How are you?" said Peter, nodding ai the stranger, in a good-natured way. page: 34-35[View Page 34-35] 34 OUT OF THE STREETS. "You'll excuse me, mister," said the countryman, "for mak- ing free with a stranger; but I ain't much used to city ways!" ! "No 'arm hi the least, my man," said Peter benignly. "You see I hearn you tell about that woman you found on the street to-night, and I felt kind o' interested in what you was a saying. Maybe you'd tell me what kind of a looking woman she' was? Young, maybe '?" "About one-and-twenty, I should say, but looked older, she was so h'emancipated, you see!" "Yaas? How was she dressed? Poor, I reckon?" - "Well, the frock wasn't a bad 'un, but it was very thin, more suitable for summer than such a h'inospitable night as this" A "Was it a kind o' gray delaine " " "You've 'it it! As well as I remember, it was. Did you see her too?" - , "Did she have a small scar on her left cheek, just above the A corner of her mouth?" asked the countryman, with growing j interest, not heeding his question. "Well, I can't say as to that; it was dark, you know. She was a goodish-looking woman, that seemed as if she had seen j better days, and a good deal of trouble. Do you think you know her?" " "I don't know as I do," replied the countryman. "Maybe I may, and maybe I don't. I came down here on a little business from South Mitchin, upon the coast o' Maine, and I've been trying to find a woman that left our place a' spell ago, by the name of Helen Norman; maybe you've hearn tell of her?" "Never 'eard the name in my life.' "Didn't know but what you had," said the stranger; " but New York is such a plaguey big place, that Is'pose it ain't easy know- ing everybody. I'd like to find her though, for she must be in a peck o' trouble, and I've got some money for her, that I reckon she'd be glad to get. Maybe you wouldn't mind my telling you about it, mister, and you might p'raps give me some advice!" A"Most 'appy, I'm sure," Peter replied; " but wo'n't you have something to whet your whistle '" I "Well, I don't mind if I do take a little cider, with jist a fla- vor of New England rum in it," replied the stranger, drawing his OUT OF THE STREETS. 35 chair still nearer to the table, and speaking right on, leaving Peter to order the cider and rum. "My- name is Abner Snaggs, and I live in South Mitchim, where I keep a store, and dicker in eggs, butter, feathers, salt fish, beeswax, dried apples, sass, and sich. Here's luck! That's rale good cider. Wall, you see, about two years ago, yes, just two years ago last summer, there comes up to South Mitchim a young man from New York, to go fishin' and gunnin'. He was a good- looking fellow, had plenty of money and spent it free, didn't put on any airs, but made himself right sociable with all the folks in town, used to go to all the gatherin's, bees and sich, and the gals they was all a pullin' caps for Richard Norman-that was his name, you see-when one day he disappeared from the tavern all of a sudden, and nobody knew where he had gone. But at the end on a week back he comes, better-looking and bet- ter dressed than ever; but he didn't come alone, for he brought a young lady back with him." "A young lady! His sister, perhaps," Peter suggested. "No, sir. Nothing of the kind; and you can just imagine the fluster there was among the girls in South Mitchim when he sent a note up to Parson Davis, the orthodox minister, and he came right down to the tavern and married him to the young lady in less than an hour after he had arrived in town. Well, maybe the gals wasn't mad; but it didn't do no good, for they were married sure enough, and the gals had to make the best on it." Here Mr. Snaggs stopped to take another pull at the cider, and then resumed his narrative: "She was just as pretty as a picture, and one o' the kindest- hearted and cleverest women you ever saw, and 'twa'en't long afore everybody liked her, though nobody knowed who she was, or where she come from, and folks used to think there was some- thing queer about his bringing her there to be married; but he never said anything, nor she didn't either. They was allers to- gether-riding horseback through the lanes and on the beach, and going out sailing and enjoying themselves, but always easy and free, and never putting on any airs. "They staid about two months after they were married, and then went away, and we never heard no more on 'em until the page: 36-37[View Page 36-37] 36 OOUT OF THE STREETS. next spring, when he writes a letter to the landlord of the tavern and tells him to get his rooms ready for him as he was a coming on with his wife to spend the summer again. "Well, they came, but he only staid a month, and went away again, leaving his wife behind him. She didn't look so peart as she did. She 'peared kind o' care-worn and low-spirited, and he didn't stay along with her as much as he used to, but used to go off gunnin' and fishing by himself while she'd sit and mope in the house; and the landlord's wife, Phoebe Bixby, she told my wife that she'd seen her sit and cry by the hour when she ; thought no one was looking at her. i "After her husband went away, leaving her alone, she moped j and pined dreadful, but she never said a word to anybody, but . when she was in company tried to be cheerful and peart, till ? Phoebe Bixby said it was enough to make her heart bleed to see X her. "Well, in a week or two her husband he came back, and she i for I never seed such a change come over a man as had come over him. He was surly, cross, and short to everybody, and used to drink, too, orful. The only one he Seemed to be sociable with now, was a shiftless cuss who lived in a hut down by the inlet j and follow wrecking for a livin'. His name was Jack Kelty, and he bore an awful hard name everywhere. Some said that he'd i been a pirate, but somehow him and Mr. Norman they got quite thick, and Mr. Norman used to go down to the hut by the inlet every day, and they'd go off fishing out to sea. "One day, just arter oats harvest, Mr. Norman he got up very early to go a fishing along with Jack Kelty. It was raining hard, and the wind a setting strong from -the nor'east, and Phoebe Bixby she heard his wife coaxing of him not to go, not to leave her that day, 'cause the weather was so rough, and she felt sure --she had a sort of forethought-that something was going to happen. ("She coaxed and she pleaded so hard, saying that she would be so happy if he would stay at home with her that day, that Phoebe Bixby declared he was just going to say he would not go, when Jack Kelty he hollered up the stairs, saying they'd be too late for the tide to get over the inlet bar if he did not hurry; OUT OF THE -STREETS. 37 and then he kissed her, and said all sorts of loving things to her, and telling her he'd be back afore night, he tore away, joined Jack Kelty down-stairs, and went toward the inlet, and that was the last that was ever seen of either of them!" "Why, what happened to them? Were they drowned?i" asked Peter, who had listened with great interest to Mr. Snaggs's story. 6"So every one reckoned. Poor Mrs. Norman sat up all night, crying and watching for him to come back, and when morning came and he had nriot returned, she was e'en amost crazy. "( He and Tomn Bixby, the landlord, we went down to the hut by the inlet. It was fast locked, and we broke it open. There was nobody inside, nor anything else neither, much, for the mat- ter o' that, for we noticed nothing but an old table, some bedding in a bunik, an iron pot, a stool, a bottle with a candle-end stuck in it, but no clothes, nor anything o' that sort, and Tom Bixby and I thought it strange at the time, that Jack should have taken all his clothes with him to go a fishin' on a stormy day. "IThere was no sight of his boat either, a large boat that carried a jib and mainsail; she was gone, and therg was no signs of her anywhere along the coast, for Tom Bixby and me dumb ' to the top of Bogg's Hill and swept the sea with a glass, but not a specklcould we see, except fishing-smacks coming from the banks, and lumber-craft from Portland. "Poor Mrs. Norman, she took on dreadful, and as 'day afer day passed on, and we heard nothing of the missing men, it was enough to make one's heart bleed to see the poor thing, and hear her call for her dear Richard. "At last, on Sunday morning, Captain Bunce's sloop, 6Two Harriets," arrived in the inlet, and then the suspense was all over, and the last hope to which Mrs. Norman and all of us had hung to was gone, for Captain Bunce had towed in Jack Kelty's boat, which he had picked up at sea, bottom upward "There was no doubt -about it nc iv,. Both men were lost, and lMrs. Norman was a widder!" "Poor thing!!" exclaimed Peter Pivot, with a face full of in- terest and sympathy; "I ne'-er 'eard h'anything so 'arrowing. How did the poor woman take the news?" "Very-hard, indeed. Phoebe Bixby broke it to her as easy as she could, but when she had to blurt it out at last, the drowned page: 38-39[View Page 38-39] 38 OUT OF. THE STREETS. man's wife give one scream and fell as stiff as a mackerel, right on the floor and cut a great gash-into her cheek just above the corner of her mouth on the apron of the stove. "She didn't die, though maybe it would have a been better if she had, but she lay for weeks out of her mind and raving about; Richard. "After she began to get better she told Phoebe Bixby that she had been born in England, had come to New York with some friends when she was very young, and that they had both died of the cholera, and that she had been brought up by a woman i who had educated her and taught her the millinery trade; that her husband, Richard Norman, had met her at a ball and fell in love with her, and that the marriage was a secret one, as Mr. Norman belonged to a proud and rich family, and wished to keep j the marriage quiet until he had got his business so fixed up that he could snap his fingers at his family, who would be dreadful angry at him for marrying a poor milliner girl." "I see," said Peter, beckoning to the landlord to serve some more cider to his new acquaintance and some " gin and water 'ot " for himself. ' One o' them miscellaneouses as always does turn out bad!" M]r. Snaggs looked puzzled. Peter Pivot explained, saying: "I mean a marriage where there is no match-where it's all money and pride on one side, and all love and affection on the other. A miscellaneous!"' "You mean a misalliance, don't you?" asked the landlord, who had overheard Peter's last remark-," misalliance." ",Yes, I suppose I do; it's all one though. But did you never try to find her friends?"'he asked, turning again to the commu- nicative stranger. "Oh, yes; we published the account of the accident in the South Mitchim Register, and advertised in the Herald, but noth- ing ever came of it. She wrote a letter to her husband's folks, but she never got any answer, nor from the woman she lived with either. "( She had a very little money when her husband was lost, and finding that she could hear nothing from his family or-her friends, she made up her mind to come to New York, and as soon- as she OUT OF THE STREETS. 39 got strong enough to travel she went off, promising to write to Phoebe Bixby. But no letter ever came, though there was one come for her husband, and Tom Bixby he opened it, expectin' to get some news from the Norman family; but it was a letter from some one o' the name of Brown, with a hundred dollars in it, which he borrowed, so the letter said. "As I had to come to New York to buy goods-I came down with Captain Bunce on the Two Harriets-I brought the letter and the money with me, and I've been a week trying to find the poor critter. "I went to the house where she used to live, but the woman had gone to Californy. Mrs. Norman had been there and had gone to live in Division-street. I went there, but she had gone away a month ago, and had been dreadful sick. I didn't give up yet, but got on her track agin, and found the house she left this morning, and where she had been hunted into the street because she couldn't get no work and hadn't paid her rent. "The poor critter must be somewhere in the city, and when I heard what you said, I thought maybe the woman you seen might have been her." "Please God it wasn't then," replied Peter, as the stranger brouglt his statement to a close; "and if it was, I think all her troubles are nearly over. 'Owever, meet me 'ere in the morning at nine o'clock, and we will go to the Tombs together and see what h'information we can pick up. But, I say, haven't you tried to find the young man's family, you know?" "Certain, I have," said-Mr. Snaggs. "Certain! Been every- where, asked everybody. Nobody knows anything about 'em; but New York is so plaguey big." "Blessed if it ain't a queer start," Peter muttered to himself, as he paid the score, " and I don't like the looks of it. Nine in the morning sharp, mind," he added aloud, turning to the stranger; "and if we don't find her in the Tombs, perhaps we shall find her somewhere else. Give us your 'and! You don't mind taking a bit o' trouble for a feller-creetur, and are a chap after my hlown 'art.'; And so they shook hands and parted for the night, Mr. Snaggs seeking the hospitable shelter of "The Lumberman's House," and congratulating himself upon the prospect of finding her he sought at last. page: 40-41[View Page 40-41] 40 OUT OF THE STREETS. CHAPTER IV. A WAIF ON THE SEA OF LIFE. ". Alas! what stay is there in human state, Or who can shun inevitable fate . "-DRYDEN. i; KATE PRITCHARD sat upon the low bedstead in her cell in the i city prison in deep thought. The light which struggled in through the narrow, barred aper- ture in the wall, shone full upon her face, which wore a harsh and thoughtful expression, and her wicked, dark eyes were fixed upon the small miniature she had taken from the dying woman I and which she now held in her hand. She gazed upon it a long time in silence, and seemed to be endeavoring to recall something[ half-forgotten in the past. "No, I can't remember," she muttered at last, putting the m, iniature again in her bosom. "I cannot recall either place or time, but I am sure I have seen that face somewhere. Richard Norman!" she went on, musing to herself--"Norman! I have never heard the name before, and yet I don't know w hy, but the more I think of it the more sure I feel that there is some mystery about this woman and this handsome young fellow, her husband, which will be worth unraveling. She has been pretty, but she does not look like a person whom such a man would choose for a wife. Well, we shall see. Nothing may come of it, after all; but my dreamings have served to wile away an hour or two in this dreadful place, which I shall leave to-day! "What a fool I was to come here at all! and for a paltry trick such as I played! But they have no fool to deal with, as they will find, and I'll be even with them yet. Yes, and more!" she muttered between her teeth, while her eyes shone with a. green- ish light, and she paced up and down the narrow cell like a caged tigress. OUT OF TH R STREETS. 41 "Here's your breakfast!" A- rough, coarse voico gave utterance to these words, and as she turned round, one of the turnkeys pushed some coarse prison fare though a small opening in the grated door. "Take it away!" she said, in an angry tone-" take it away! I have told you before I could not and would not eat your loath- some food!" "As you plaze," the man replied, going away; "but, faith, your betters eats worse, and so will you before you die, if I'm a bad judge of faces!" Punctually at nine o'clock Abner Snaggs made his appearance at "The Woodcock," where, in a few minutes, he was joined by the Englishman, and they started immediately on their mission of mercy. In answer to their inquiry at the station-house, they were in- formed of the disposition which had been made of the woman who had been brought in the night before, and referred to the warden of the prison for further information. Guided by an officer, they made their way to the matron's room, where they found that worthy woman and Kate Pritchard enjoying with good appetite a breakfast of a very different sort from that which had been proffered by the turnkey, and which had been sent in from a neighboring restaurant at Kate's expense, for money is as potent in a prison as out of one. "Here's two men that have come to see the woman that wlas brought in last night," said the officer, as he ushered in Pivot and Snaggs. " 3Walk in, gentlemen, and take seats," said the matron, rising. Iate eyed the intruders with a keen glance and went on with her breakfast. "Don't let us disturb you, mum," said Peter Pivot, before tak- ing the chair near where he stood. "Finish your breaklfast, muml; we are in no 'urry, and I don't like to h'interrupt any- body at meal times, not liking to be worried at my peck myself!" "Thank you; I have finished," the matron replied. "You called to see the woman who was brought in last night, and who' gave her name as 1MSary Wright?" "Mary Wright!'u Pivot repeated. "Well, I don't think that was the---" page: 42-43[View Page 42-43] 422 OUT OF THE STREETS. "Yes," interrupted Abner. Snaggs, quickly; "I reckon she is the woman. She may not have given her real name in a place like this, you see," he added, in a whisper to Peter. Let's see her, any how. Women takes queer notions sometimes, and Mrs. TNorman was powerful proud of her name." This whisper was not lost upon Kate Pritchard, whose sharp eyes not one look had escaped. "If you came to do her any good," the matron observed, resum- ing her seat near the table, "you have come too late. Mary Wright died this morning at five o'clock!" "Died!" exclaimed Mr. Snaggs-" died, eh? Poor critter 1 poor critter ! "Just as I thought," said Peter, in a sympathetic tone. "I thought she was fairly on her way to her long 'ome when I first saw her." "We did all we could to make ner comfortable," the matron continued, " and she had the best medical attendance and nurs- ing in her trouble. She was dying when she was brought here. Her little boy was born at nine o'clock last night, and she never rallied, but died, as I have told you,. at five o'clock this morning. "And the baby?"Snaggs asked with much concern-" the baby? Did that live?" Oh, yes, and is as likely to live as any of us. He is a fine, healthy child." "Poor critter! poor critter!"Snaggs muttered, and then turning to Pivot, he asked in a whisper, "Can't we see her? It may be her, after all." "I dessay," Peter replied. ,To be sure. I suppose, ma'am, he added, turning to the matron, "we can see the body?" ,i Cortainly," replied the matron, rising and moving toward a door at the end of the room. i"This way, if you please." Peter and Snaggs followed the matron, who led the way through a long corridor, and paused before the door of a small cell at the further end. "The body has been placed in this room for the purpose of giv- ing her friends, if she has any," said the matron, pausing before opening the door, " an opportunity of recognizing and claiming her. Step in So saying, she turned the lock of the heavy door, and entered the cell, followed by the two men. OUT OF THE STREETS. 43 The scene which presented itself to their eyes was a sad and solemn one. Upon a low iron bedstead, which stood close to the wall of the cell, lay the body of the woman, rigid in death. A faint gleam of sunshine which came through the small window at the foot of the bed shone full upon her pale, cold face, which had lost the weary, sad expression it had worn the night before, and looked serene and calm; a sad, soft smile seemed to play upon her lips. Her dark auburn hair had been neatly arranged over her marble- like forehead, and one long, silken cutrl fell down over her neck and lay across her bosom. It required but a glance to see that the poor wanderer lying there at rest, had been beautiful, and it seemed as if death, while laying his chilly hand upon her, had bereft her of all traces of suffering and brought back to her linea- ments the youth and beauty which sickness, suffering and want had tried so hard to efface. "' That is the same woman," said Peter, after gazing at the life- less body for a moment in silence. "Is it the woman you are looking for, Mr. Snaggs? Do you indemnify her? Do you know her, I mean?" "( Yes," said Mr. Snaggs, " that's her, sure enough, though, lor' sakes, how she is altered! But that's her. I should knows her looks anywhere, and there's the scar upon her face, I told you on! Poor critter! poor critter! This will be bad news for'my Polly, Phoebe Bixby and all the folks in South Mitchim," and the rough countryman wiped his eyes with a blue cotton handkerchief. "Was she a relative or connection of yours?" asked the matron. No, she wasn't no relation o' mine, nor she wasn't no relation of anybody's as far I know!" answered Snaggs, sadly. "The poor critter was all alone in the world!" "She was a h'orphan, mum," said Peter, " a h'orphan and a widder. Her husband was drowned at sea, and all the friends she had in the world were in the place this man comes from!" "And where I shall take her back to," added Mr. Snaggs. I s'pose there will be no objection to that?" "Not if you can satisfy the authorities as to the propriety of it," replied the matron, " and that you have any right to claim the body; otherwise, she will be buried in the Potter's Field!" page: 44-45[View Page 44-45] " OUT OF TIE STREETS. "In the Potter's Field-and where is hat?" asked Mr. Snaggs. "The paupers' burial-groundl." "I see," replied Abner; "that's just what I thought. But sh n wasn't no pauper, nd she shant be buried in a paupers grave, but in the old orthodox burying-grun in South itchim, nder the elms; and the bell shall toll and Parson is, who married her, shall preahhe funeral sermon, and there aint a man, woman her, shall preach thegfoneralBefmonu I Whyp or child in SouIh Mitchim that won't go to the funeral h, if I'd go back to South Mitchira and tell my Polly, and Phcebe Bixby, and all the folks, that I had left her to be buried in the Potter's Tield, the town would be too hot to hold me, and I'd have to emigrate as sure as my name is bner Snaggs? "' And very right, too," said Pivot. Right, for a thousand pounds! You're a good sort, and your 'art's in the right place. r^^XTo^^a settle it off- So we will go and see the Commissioner at once, and settle it off- hand. We can't do any good here." After casting another mournful look at the pale, still form, they turned to go. The matron opened the door suddenly, and started with some surprise at fax iding herself face to face with Kate Pritchard, who, with a slightly embarrassed manner, the color 'in her cheeks heightened until one would have almost thought she blushed, stepped back allow the two to pass out of the cell, saying ," I am afraid I am too late. I was jtist going to ask to see the poor woman once more before I left, as my lawyer has been here, and brought my discharge. But it is of no consequence, and the sight of her would only make mc gloomy!" The matron made no remark, but locked the cell door, and led the way back to her room, followed by the rest. "Come," said Peter, as soon s they had entered the matron's apartment "we m ust go and get the permit to take the body away. They know me at the Commissioner's office, and my word willmake everything right. So come on, Mr. Snaggs, aild--" But what ,lisposition will be made of the child?" asked the matron, interrupting the Englishman; "if it is left here, it will be sent to the nursery on Blackwel's Island!" "Um n!" said Peter, thoughtfully. "To be sure, I never thought of that. What is to be done with the babby, Mr. Snaggs? Will you take the babby to South Mitclim, too?" OUT OF THE STREETS. 45 "Swan, I dun know!"' ainswered Mr. Snaggs, with a perplexed air. "Do not kidder think I can. My Polly's a sickly critter, allus suffering with pains in her head, and she's got nine children of her own to look after and do for. Then, there's Phoebe Bixby, shs's too much to do at the tavern-has to look arter everything. I don't know what to do with the babby!" "I'd take him," said Peter, " but I'm afraid Mrs. Pivot wouldn't see it, and might be suspicious, and-no, it's no use thinking on!" "Where is the nuss'ry where he'd go?" asked Mr. Snaggs, still pondering. "On Blackwell's Island. The child would be well cared for -nursed, clothed, fed and educated. When of suitable age it would be apprenticed out to learn a trade." "I don't kind o' like the idea," said Snaggs; " but---" "Perhaps I might suggest a plan by which the child might be provided for," said Kate Pritchard, coming forward and speaking in her blandest tones. "' Ow, mum?" asked Peter. "I was with the child's mother when it was born," the woman answered, "and my heart warmed toward the little fellow from the first. I will take him and bring him up as though he -were my own. We have no children, and my husband has often talked of adopting a little boy." "No," said Snaggs, quickly, "I reckon not. If the poor thing has got to go among strangers, I reckon the nuss'ry will be the best place 'for him. Don't you reckon so, Mr. Pivot? "Your offer is very kind, mum," Peter said, after a moment's pause, turning to Kate Pritchard, " and I've no doubt that you'd be a mother to the boy; but you'll excuse me, you see-I heard you say that you had got your discharge, so I s'pose you didn't come here of your own free will, and as my friend don't know you, and I don't know you, and the babby don't know you, and we don't any of us know why you are 'ere or whether you niight not some day be brought 'ere again, when the babby might stand most in need of your care, why, you see, mum, you'll excuse my friend if, by my advice,'having been born in London and knowing city ways, declines your very kind h'offer. I have e'ard that the h'institootion the lady has mentioned on Blackwell's Island is a page: 46-47[View Page 46-47] " OUT OF THE STREETS. slap up affair, and so as the h'infant can't go nowhere else, why, to the h'institootion he goes, and that's my ipsy dixie! Having delivered himself of this decided opinion, Peter bowed to the woman, buttoned up his coat, and nodded to Mr. Snaggs to follow him. "I made the offer in all kindness," Kate Pritchard said, draw- ing herself up, while her lips became almost livid, and a cruel light shone in her eyes, " and if you did not care to accept, there was no reason why you should insult me." "I beg your pardon, mum," Peter replied, "but no h'insult was meant. I don't beat about the bush, and I really don't think that a woman a man meets for-the first time in a prison, though she is allowed the run of the matron's room, is h'exactly the kind of a person a man who has his h'eye open would give the bring- ing up of a h'infant to. "Enough, sir,)' Kate responded. "You may regret, and the child too, some day, that you did not accept my offer." ' We haven't time to h'argue the point now," Peter answered, "so thanking you, marm, for all your kindness to the poor woman, we will go to the h'office of the Commissioner and see what can be done. Come along, Mr. Snaggs. Prevarication is the thief of time." As soon as they gained the street, Peter gave a sigh of relief, and turning to Mr. Snaggs, asked: (' How much money do you say you have belonging to this woman?" "One hundred dollars." And what are you going to do with it?" "Well, I reckon the funeral will cost something. I'll have to get a coffin and shroud, and--" "Then there'll be the undertaker to pay, and the grave to be dug, and all sorts of things," Peter suggested. "Funerals are expensive things." "Yes, I reckon it will about eat up the hundred dollars!" "No, sir," returned Peter Pivot, " it won't eat up one penny of it! Now, what line should you say I was in?" he asked, stop- ing short, and confronting Abner Snaggs, with his hands thrust into' his pockets. "What should you take me for? A butcher, or a baker, or a candlestick-maker, or what?" OUT OF THE STIEETS. 47 "Well, I don't know what your business might be," answered Abner. "You might be in the fish or lumber-trade!" "Yes, and I might be in the tailoring line, or a 'aberdasher but I am not-no. Now what should you say if I told you I was a hYundertaker?" "What, you?" "Yes, me. That is my vacation, and a very good one it is, and as for this 'ere piece of business, I'll put the poor thing h'up, fur- ish the coffin, earse, shroud, and all, and not charge a penny. There! And if it was in England, where we do all these things different, hang me if I wouldn't throw in mutes as well! So now make your mind easy about that! As for the money, I tell you what we'll do. We'll put it in the savings' bank in your name, as trustee for the boy, and some day it will be a start for him. So now come along, the Commissioner's office is just around the corner, and I'll manage everything in a jiffy. But stop a mo- ment though," Peter added. "It won't do to play any games here. What did you say the woman's name was? The name she gave at the station was Mary Wright, and her real name you say -that is, her married name-was -" "Helen Norman! "Helen Norman. All riht. Everything musthedone hopen and above board." As Pivot had predicted, there was no trouble in procuring the required permit, and after getting possession of that document, they proceeded to Pivot's establishment, where he gave instruc- tions to one of his assistants to do all that was necessary and spare nothing. Then they went to the savings' bank, where the hundred dol- lars which Mr. Snaggs had brought for the dead mother was duly deposited. in the name of the orphan child, and the same day the body of Helen Norman was placed on board the sloop Two Har- riets, to be carried back to the little village where she had first been brought a proud and blushing bride; where she had first basked in the sunlight of a husband's early love, where her young heart had beat with joy, and oppe's bright rainbow shed a halo round the future, and filled her with peace and happiness; where, too, this love on which she had staked so much had first begun to wane, where doubts had first cast a gloom upon the future, and page: 48-49[View Page 48-49] 48 - OUT OF THE STREETS clouds had cast their shadows on her pathway; and where at last the great grief of her life overwhelmed her, and from whence she had wandered away with breaking heart to the Great City, to die unheeded and alone. The villagers received her back again with tearful eyes and pitying hearts, and laid her gently in the old church-yard, beneath the melancholy elms, where oft in the happy time forever past, she had wandered in the twilight, side by side with him who had been the entire world to her. There she sleeps, the pure; the beautiful and good, and often in the winter nights when the good villagers, sitting by their cozy hearths, listen to the howling of the boisterous winds, the moaning of the cruel and inexorable sea, and the rude roar of the rough, restless waves dashing and thundering in their spiteful fury on the beach, they think of her and tell her sad, sad story; -not as it shall be told, however, in the years to come, when another wandering outcast shall kneel beside that humble grave and shed such bitter, unavailing tears, as none but an anguished soul, torn by remorse, can shed when bitter retribution comes upon it. The same- day upon which the sloop Two Harriets sailed for South Mitchim, the little battered steamer which plied between New York and BlackwellPs Island started for its destination with its assorted cargo of living freight-vagrants, convicts, paupers, and a score of the little waifs which crime and misery, want and misfortune are continually sending forth from the metropolis upon Life's uncertain ocean. Among the latter, duly registered and numbered, and consigned in good order to the matron of the Foundling Hospital on Black- well's. Island, was the orphan child of Helen Norman, sleeping, unconscious of its loss, in the strong arms of a Milesian nurse, and as the steamer passed the little sloop that slowly plowed her way through the fretful eddyings and treacherous whirlpools of Hurlgate, it parted for evermore all that was mortal of the wan- derer and her orphan child. o OUT OF TIE STREETa 49 CHAPTER V. A CONFIDENTIALt INTERVIEW, AND I^S RESUTs. t' Ah, what a tangled web we weaos When first we practise to deceive." TEN years have passed since the incidents related in the opening of our narrative took place. Ten years of change and progress for the great city, which has stretched out its absorbing arms and taken into itself miles of space, and added thousands to its busy and incongruous population. The human tide which ebbs and flows through its noisy streets has grown denser day by day. Wealth and luxury have increased side by side with poverty and squalid want. Taste and refinement have kept almost even pace with ignorance and vulgarity, while vice and avarice have gained the star of virtue and contentment. Commerce crowds the warves with giant ships and monster steamers, which pour into the great metropolis the wealth and riches of the world. Change-constant change is visible on every side. Trade has usurped the places where Fashion used to disport herself in gayest guise, and Society has shrunk away from trade, and holds high court and revel, where, ten years ago, were quiet country nooks, and shady lanes, and old ancestral trees, gardens and fields of waving corn and wheat. The Sturdy Strugglers of ten years ago have pushed and shoved and elbowed their way from low obscurity to prominence and wealth, unmindful of the obstacles presented by those less sturdy than themselves, whom they have pushed to the wall, or shoved aside, or elbowed from their path, and who still struggle on in the unequal race. Mrs. Foulk Loxley has changed, too, but only for the better. he beter page: 50-51[View Page 50-51] 50 OUT OF THE STREETS. Her matured charms have more than fulfilled their budding promise, and she reigns a queen to-day more potent far than ever. Change has marked her realm as well. She has lost many of her followers, who have been driven from her court by the Sturdy Strugglers, but the gain has exceeded the depletion, for the Sturdy Strugglers have enlisted under her banner, and are now among her most devout and loyal subjects. There is now a Princess Royal in the house of Loxley, of whom the Queen may well be proud, and who is worthy all the love and admiration that her stately father, Mr. Foulk Loxley, be- stows upon her-the Lady Agnes, she of the soft and dreamy voilet eyes and sunny hair, that falls adown her neck and droops upon her pearly shoulders like a shower of golden floss, or wreathes itself in waving tendrils over her fair, smooth brow; she of the sunny smile and rosy cheek; she of the soft, sweet voice, whose every tone is melody, and whose silvery laugh would thrill a heart of stone. She is just six years old, this little fairy, but her sway over all she meets is just as potent as that of "Fairy Graceful," or the Fairy of the Silver Fountain," or any other fairy that the whole realm of Fairyland has ever known. Look at her now, as she stands peeping through the half-open door at her stately father, as he sits within the sacred pro- cincts of his library, where none, save she, dare trespass on his peace and quiet. What a contrast betwixt the solemn dignity of the great banker, with his hands softly folded together before the fire, re- volving in his mind some great financial coup, and the bright, rosy, disengenuous face of the Lady Agnes, who is gently, gently pushing the heavy door yet wider open, and who on softest tip- toe creeps toward him! He may be arranging some deeply-laid scheme for a " corner" in "( Erie ;" "Schuylkill," perchance, absorbs his thoughts, or he is making up his mind about those "Illinois Sixes," which he "Bears;" but the great coup, the Erie corner," Schuylkill, and the Illinois Sixes, all vanished from his thoughts, as his accus- tomed, and perhaps-expectant ear catches the sound of the fairy tread of his darling, and a smile wreathes itself about his mouth and spreads over all his face-but now so thoughtful-as the OUT OF THE STREETS. child, now near enough to make the spring, leaps to his arms and claims and receives his loving kiss! "Oh, dear papa, I am so glad ou've ome, for I do so wan a game of romps." Who but she would dare propose a game of romps wih opose ac gt e of rS r iom p os Loxleyw u Loxley, whose nod is nigh omnipotent in Wall-street, and whose slightest word or smile is courted by the whole world of Mainm- mon? But the fairy is supreme in her power over him, for the game of romps is had, and the great Mr. Foulk Loxley plays "Bear"-but of a different sort from the one he plays in Wall- street--with his little girl, who screams and shouts and laughs, and makes believe to be afraid of him, and when she makes be- lieve the most, runs up and kisses him, and tells him tha he be-is not a bear, but her dear, kind, gd papa," then leads him t his great arm-chair again, and climbs pon his nees, and tells him all that she has done that day, and confides to him all her joys-- she has no sorrows yet! Mrs. Foulk Loxley is sometimes a little shocked at this famil- iarity, and fears her darling may be "rudeso she gently hecks her, now and then, and talks about being so gently ahecks lady-like, but little Agnes throws her arms about her neck and kisses mamma's lovely lips,'and mamma returns the kisses with in- terest, and Says no more. Mrs. Sydney teaton is the " dear friend " of Mrs. Foulk Lox. ley, and next to Mrs. Loxley, the rich, the proud, the beautiful Mrs. Sydney Heaton rules Society. Peter Maberly still pushes, squeezes and elbows his way, but now his road tends graveward, and he pushes, squeezes and elbows for his grandson, Maberly Heaton, who is nine years old, and promises to be his father over again, modified by a dash of Pete: himself. And how fare the happy pair who were made one upon that bitter winter night, now ten years ago? Let us see! Mr. and Mrs. Heaton have followed-or rather led-ISociety further up-town, and live in an elegant establishment of their own--or rather in the elegant establishment of Mrs. Sydney iRea- ton; and in the dining-room of this elegant establishment Mr. Sydney Heaton is sitting alone, smoking his cigar and musing. page: 52-53[View Page 52-53] 52 TOUT OF THE STREETS. is thoughts are not of a leasant character, f may judge by his face, which wears a perplexed and, troubled expression, or his nerous manner, or the low mutterigs he sometimes utters, by his nervous Ma!ectr "r or by his frequent application to a decanter of brandy, which stands upon the table near him. much ,Damn it," he at last broke out, "I can't stand this much longer Night after niht, an still my infernal lck never changes, and now Ii don't kniow where to turn for a dollar! And changes, anda now it gulp o .....tent she," he went on, after swallowing a great gulp of the potent liquor, "she grips her money like a vice, like her Lather's daughter as she is. why don't he die e?" is efcommuning was brought to a close by the entrance of a servant, who announced mMr. Samuel reaton--his worthy father -and in a moment that elegant and accomplished person entered - the room, and after saluting his son in a careless way, seated him- self at the opposite side of the table near the fire, rubbed his white hands, and rested his feet upon the fender. "I am glad you have come," said Sydney, pushing the decanter toward his father-a piece of hospitality thrown away, for r. tHeaton put up his hand, saying. ", None of that fiery stuff for me. '1 take a drop set Char- treuse perhaps, before I go! I should not like to set so bad an example to my son!"it consierable aspertyin his , Pshaw!" responded S ydney, with considerable asperity in his tones. " ou can't ruin me with drink any more than I am ruined now " , And whose fault is that, sir?" asked the father, coolly. "Yours!" "' Yes, Fours."u "M My dear fellow, you do me great injustice, I assure you. g never ruined anybody; that is," he added, vith a gentle cough, "c except in a legitimate and proper manner,inthe course of busi- ness." ,Was it a legitimate and proper thing to force me into a mar- riage with a woman whom I did not love-who did not love me -who married me, as I did her, for money?" "My dear son, you mistake the case. I used noorce. I merely ...-^. 4. z ^; i ', nnla T have foreseen----" OUT OF THE STREETS. 53 "Could you have foreseen," the son exclaimed, cutting his father's bland tones short-" could you have foreseen' that our shallow trick would have been found out; that the flimsy veil of fraud with which we thought to cover our meanness would be torn aside, and that I should stand before the woman who had sworn to love and honor me, as a sordid, mercenary wretch-could you have foreseen that, thus exposed, disgraced, my life, hence- forth, would be a hell; that I should live a thing despised in her eyes and in my own; that hate would take the place of love, and that instead of her respect and honor, I should receive naught but her contempt and scorn, you would not have wavered one jot or tittle, but would have done just as you have done." "Really!" exclaimed Mr. Heaton pushing back his chair, and raising both his hands in mild expostulation, "this is too bad! You must excuse me if I decline listening to such accusations. You must try to calm yourself. Please do not-to oblige me- drink any more of that horrid brandy. The idea of my own son charging me with participation in a fraudulent transaction! Oh! shocking! Really H- "What was it but a fraud?" the son asked, indignantly, rising and pacing the room in strong excitement. "What was it but a fraud, to all intents and purposes, when the property which you made over to me, on the day preceding the marriage, was not your own, the half of it, and which was all refunded back to you within a week? What was this but a trick and fraud? For years, before it was found out, I used the money entrusted to me for investment by Blanche-in speculations, mostly suggested by yourself, the greater part of which turned out unfortunate for me-though you have thriven all the while." "My dear son, I assure you," Mr. Heaton exclaimed, "my losses were heavier than your own, and besides, have I not, time and again, made large advances? ' Which were all paid, and more, with the money I received from Blanche," answered Sydney. "But she will give me no more. She deigns to let me live a pensioner upon her bounty, and that is all. This very house is hers-not astick nor a stone be- longs to me. "Had you not given yourself up to the gaming-table, to the turf, and to such low vices- page: 54-55[View Page 54-55] 54 OUT OF THE STREETS. "What else was left for me?"Sydney broke in. "The chance of gain lured me on, in the hope of freeing myself by some lucky stroke of fortune from the damnable condition of dependence I was in; and, besides, I found in the mad excitement of the race- course and faro-table, cessation from the thoughts-thoughts ter- rible and maddening-of which you nor any other living soul knows aught, but which otherwise had set my mind distraught. But fortune has not smiled upon me. Day after day, night after night, I have lost, and now I am without a friend, without credit, without a dollar! I helped you! God only knows at what dire cost! I came -to your rescue when you told me ruin, digrace, beg- gary stared you in the face, at a sacrifice too terrible to think upon; and you must help me now. I must have money! money! money!" And Sydney came close to where his father sat, and struck the table heavily with his hands. "I pray you, be calmer," Mr. Heaton said, quite unruffled by the terrible words of his son. "Be seated, I beg, and listen to me. There, now, don't burst out again. I need not tell you that your remarks have shocked me very much. I cannot bear to be excited myself, or to see others so, and I am really grieved at the picture you draw of your present position and condition. I should be only too glad to assist you if it were in my power; but it is not, beyond the merest trifle, for I also have been unfortunate. I have been severely 'cornered ' lately, on Erie; for that I am in- debted to my good friend Loxley-a very shrewd and clever man; and I have lost heavily in the 'Popocatapetl and Chimborazo Gold and Diamond Mining and Colonization Company,' the shares having gone down to nothing. The 'National Transit Company' has gone by the board; in fact it was ruled out of the Board yesterday altogether; so that I have been forced to strain my credit to the utmost to meet my obligations and keep my head above water. To tell the plain truth, my dear son, I regret to say that my bank account was to-day heavily overdrawn, and I was obliged to submit to great sacrifices to make it good. To come to the point, you are indebted for my visit to-night to the circumstance that I desired to consult you in regard to the possi- bility of getting some assistance, through your influence, from your respected, vulgar father-in-law, Peter Maberly." OUT OF THE STREETS. 55 "The idea, under the circumstances, is perfectly absurd," an- swered Sydney. "He already more than suspects my true posi- tion, and had there been the slightest chance of success, I should have applied to him myself. If what you inform me is true, and I shall not be so impolite as to doubt your word, you are power- less to help me to any great extent, but still you may to some. You said something just now about 'a mere trifle.' A trifle may answer! Fortune cannot always frown upon me, and the luck emay take a favorable turn to-night; so if by a trifle you mean five hundred dollars, give it to me and I'll try her once more. If you do not, I'll give you fair warning that ere dawn I'll do some desperate deed that will not leave me to bear the shame "You know I never carry money with me," answered Mr. iea- ton. Your check will do as well." "But, my dear son, reflect. I am only encouraging you in a vice which will destroy you!" "Do not stop to moralize. What is the difference between your stock operations, your 'margins,' and your 'corners,' and the more exciting, but not less honest game I play at. You risk your money on a rise or fall, as I risk mine on the turning of a card. You sell short; I copper the ace. You buy short; I wager that the king will win.. Gambler or broker, broker or gambler, the difference is but in name. So do not moralize. Here are pen and ink--you have a blank check in your pocket--fill it up!" Mr. Heaton might have hesitated longer but thate tke express- ion in his son's face determined him, and producing the check, he filled it up and handed it over to his son, sayings "You really have such an impressive way about you that there is no resisting you!" "Are you going home? " asked the son, putting the check in his pocket. "I will walk part of the way with you, or will you go up stairs and see Blanche? I do not think she has gone out." "I shall reserve that pleasure for another time," said Mr. Hea- ton, rising, "and- accept your company as far as your pleasure or convenience will permit." They left the house together, Mr. Heaton conversing as gayly tnd showing as little concern as though the world were all couleur page: 56-57[View Page 56-57] de rose, and shook hands with his son at parting with a refined cor- diality which was charming in its way. Sydney Heaton, still heated by the thoughts and passions which his own reflections and late conversation had aroused, pursued his way with quickened pace toward the "hell " where he meant to woo once more the smiles of the fickle goddess. He was not long in reaching the place, to which he was admit- ted without question, being well known, and proceeding up-stairs, he cashed the check he had obtained, and was soon absorbed in the game. He played at first with varying success-now he won, again he lost. His gains slightly overbalanced his losses, and ever and anon calling the servant to supply him with brandy, he became half-maddened by the fiery fluid. At last, as if tired by these undecided and fluctuating results, he placed the entire sum before him, including all his small wine nings, upon a single card, and sat watching with compressed lips and wildly expectant eyes the progress of the game. At last the card upon which he had placed his wager was turned, and the croupier placed an amount of checks equal to his beside it. He had won! He made no movement to withdraw either the original stake or the winnings, but with lips more tightly compressed and eyes glowing with a wilder light, he watched the dealer's motions ' in intense suspense. Slowly the cards were turned, and at each turn the croupier paid such as won, or gathered in the stakes that were lost. Would his card never appear ? Yes, it appears now, and he wins again! The croupier paid the double stake; still Sydney did not stir, but sat as immovable as a statue, while those around the table looked surprised at what they thought his folly. Again the cards are turned, and now the bank is winning nearly every stake. The other players neglect their own game to watch the fate of Sydney's desperate play, and a universal excla- mation breaks for an instant the almost painful silence which pervades the place, when the queen, upon which Heaton's stake is placed and which is the centre of so much interest, comes up again and falls upon the winning side! OUT OF THE STREETS. 57 "Brandy and water," Sydney mutters, in a hoarse, choked voice, but makes no offer to draw the large sum he has alrehdy won. d e sum he has already The interest grows intense. No other bets are made, but all watch with bated breath the last turn of the card The queen has won three times! It is scarcely possible it can win again i Such a thing has not been seen for years! There is time to save the money the desperate man has won, even yet; but he will tempt his fate to the uttermost. iHe sits motionless, his eyes glaring upon the little box, which in a moment more will decide whether fortune this time will be constant. The heavy breathing of the lookers-on and the voie of the croupier break the silence. "The last turn, gentlemen! t e pauses a moment, then slowly draws the topmost card, and the queen wins for the fourth time! A sigh of relief escapes from Sydney's lips, giving vent to the intensity of his excitement, as he realizes the fact, and draws toward him the now large pile of " checks" which he has won! Surprise, astonishment, admiration are expressed on every hand, and amid the buzz of conversation the dealer shuffles the cards, maintaining an unruffled face, and once more places them within the silver box. "IMake your game, gentlemen." The bets are made. Sydney wagers largely again, this time upon the "deuce," and still wins on. Fortune seems determined to make amends to-night for all the buffets she has given him, and does not desert him, save fora moment or two, and then comes back to him more kind than ever, till at last the " banker" declares the game closed, and Sydney Heaton rises from the table the winner of nearly twenty thousand The effects of the liquor he had drank and the excitement of the play were visible in his trembling hands and the quivering muscles of his face as e gathered up his large winnin; u he 5poke scarcely a word in reply to the congratulations which were : '. , 8X page: 58-59[View Page 58-59] 58 OUT OF THE STREETS. showered upon him on all sides, and hastily swallowing a glass of champagne proffered by the smiling banker, nodded to the crowd and left the house. A carriage was standing on the corner of the street, and after telling the driver to take him home, he was about stepping into the vehicle, when a tall, rough-looking man advanced from under the shadow of the neighboring house and laid his hand upon his- shoulder. Sydney turned to see who it might be that thus accosted himn, and as the gaslight fell upon the man's face, he started as if a knife had pierced his flesh, and staggering back, exclaimed: "Great God! what do you here ' " I OUT OF THE STREETS. 59 CHAPTER VI. BLOOD MONEY-A NOCTURNAL CONFERENCE-SYDNEY HEATON IN THE TOILS. "Must I consume my life-this little life- In guarding all may make it less . " ' BYRON'S SARDANAPALUS. "Thereat he smitten was with great afflight, And' trembling terror did his heart appal." SPENSER'S FAIRY QUEEN. "I THOUGHT you'd be rather surprised to see me," said the strange man, with a grim smile.. "But you don't seem very glad at meeting with an old friend after so many years." Sydney made no reply, but continued to gaze at the man with a look of wonder and surprise. "Why, you seem quite staggered!" the man continued. "You didn't suppose I was going to stay at t'other end of the world for ever, did you? "I shall not need you!"Sydney said, quickly recovering his self-possession and addressing himself to the driver of the car- riage. Then turning to the man who had accosted him in so un- expected a manner, he added: "Follow me, but do not speak to me again until I order you!" All right. I am agreeable so long as you don't try to cut it," the man replied, falling behind Sydney, who preceded him at a very rapid pace. He continued for some distance in the direction he had taken, and then turning suddenly, proceeded across the town until he came to the small private enclosure known as Gramercy Park. Taking a key from his pocket, he opened the gate at the upper end, and waiting a moment for his follower to come up, he allowed him to pass in, and then closing the gate behind him, he led the page: 60-61[View Page 60-61] 60 OUT OF THE STREETS. way toward the centre of the enclosure, where the light from the street lamps scarcely penetrated through the clump of evergreens which stood upon the spot. -"Now," said Sydney, turning round and confronting the man who had followed close upon his heels, " what brings you back, and why do you lay in wait for me like a wild beast?" "As to what brought me here," replied the man, in a tone which was at once sullen and defiant, " the same thing brought me here which took me away-a ship I As for why I came, it was bad luck!" ' "Bad luck, indeed!" muttered Sydney, between his teeth. "You see," the man went on, unmindful of Sydney's words, ,' the money that I had when I landed in San Francisco went where many a man's money had gone before, and where a good deal will go again. I deposited it in the Monte Bank, and those that run that institution never pay back deposits or declare dividends!" "I gave you five thousand dollars." "If it had been five times five thousand it would have gone all the same. So, you see, after I was cleaned out I went to the dig- gins and staked a claim. It turned out pretty well; but while I was working it, another party that had been down to Sacramento for stores came back and disputed my claim. I didn't see it, and a fight was the consequence. One of them got killed in the me4le somehow, and I was obliged to cut it, and went to Dry Gulch, where I did pretty well, made my pile, and went down to San Francisco again. "There 1 got on a big spree with all my dust, and was dead broke. I got reckless, and into the hands of Vigilance Committee, and was banished from the country, but I managed to get away, and went into the mountains. Bad luck followed me there, and -well, no matter what I did-I got into trouble, and a price was set on my- head. "But I was too smart for them, and kept out of the way till I got a chance to slip off to the Sandwich Islands. But my bad luck never left me, and the ship foundered in a hurricane. All went down with her except me, the mate, the cook and two of the men, who managed to get into the yawl, which drifted clear. "We knocked about for six days with nothing to eat but some OUT OF THE STREETS. 61 stray biscuit, and no water but what we got by sucking our clothes when it rained. "We were picked up by a bark bound to Callao, and when we arrived there I fell in with some of my old comrades who had managed to escape the Vigilance Committee, and we formed a sort of company, and took to the mountains. "But, somehow, I was unlucky again, and the place got too hot for me. I crossed the Cordilleras, and after a while turned up at Rio, where I got a job on the public works. But I soon got tired of that, and went back to my old game on the road. "Somehow or other my bad luck got. worse, and one day I was taken for robbing a coffee-planter, as they said, and I was locked up for trial. As I didn't know what they might be able to prove against me by false swearing and lawyers' tricks, I gave 'em the slip by working out the bars of my cell with a nail and the blade of an old knife which I had slipped into the lining of' my bootleg. "They raised a great hue and cry after me, but I kept shady, and got away as far as Pernambuco, where I shipped on a schooner bound for Havana. But bad luck never let go its hold of me. We were wrecked off Florida Keys, and were taken off by a brig bound for New York. So you see, captain, I didn't come of my own free will, for I meant to keep my word and stay away!" "How long have you been here?" asked Sydney, who listened to the man's narrative with some impatience; "aand why have you thrown yourself in my way?" "Well, as for that, what was I to do? I got into New York a month ago, and as nothing seemed to tuxn up and I hadn't a dime to bless myself, I thought it might be as well to hunt up my old friends. There are only two that I cared much to find. One was my sister." "Your sister! Does she live here? "You bet. And lives in style too. It was some time before I found her, and when I did, she wasn't much more glad to see me than you was, but she didn't dare to go back on me altogether, any more than you do!" "What do you mean, scoundrel? "Well, I mean that I know a thing or two about her, that it might have been unpleasant to her to have generally known, and page: 62-63[View Page 62-63] 62 OUT OF THE STREETS so, as I say, she didn't dare to go back on me altogether, any more than you " "Hark ye," said Sydney, looking the man full in the face, and drawing a small pistol from his pocket, and presenting it at the outlaw's head.- "What your sister may dare, or what secrets you may be in possession of concerning her, is nothing to me, but if you utter one word of the past, give a single hint of any secret you may .have of mine--even here-as we stand alone, in this solitary place, at midnight, where no human eye can see us-if you utter one syllable, even in a whisper, betraying aught that I would have unknown, I will kill you as I would a wolf, or serpent in my path!" With a motion, quick as the lightning's flash, the man seized Sydney's arm, and throwing all his giant strength into the effort, elevated it high in air, while with the other hand, which he had kept behind him during the entire interview, he quickly drew a pistol in his turn, and placing the muzzle within an inch of Syd- ney's head, he said, calmly, but-with deep determination: That is a game at which two may take a hand in! I've heard men talk shoot before, and when I knew they meant it, too, but I wasn't skared, any more than I am now! So put your pistol up, and don't show it again, or I may do somethi-g beside talk shoot!"So saying, he released Sydney's arm, adding, ( A man more or a man less, makes no difference to me, but you are worth more to me alive than dead! Now, we understand one another and can talk more free!" "You are a desperate scoundrel," Sydney replied, putting his weapon away, "but I do not wish to proceed to extremities, if I can avoid it." "No, I reckon not! You talk sense, now! It's no use for you and me to quarrel; besides, I've been looking for you so long, and was so glad to find you, that it would be a pity to begin fighting right off at first." "Were you waiting for me when you accosted me on the street?"Sydney asked. "Yes." "How did you know that I should pass that spot?" "I didn't. I knew where you was! I followed you there, when you left your house this evening!" I OUT OF THE STREETS. 63 "What were you doing at my house?" "Looking for you!" "How did you know where I lived?" 9 "Followed you home!" "Then you have seen me before to-night?" "Yesterday was the first time, and I haven't lost sight of you since. You see, I'll tell you how it was. I was at my sister's house yesterday morning earlyi before her husband was up, be- cause, you see, she has a foolish pride about not acknowledging our relationship, and so she hasn't introduced me to the Doctor- Doctor Bolton his name is-as rich as a quartz ledge-she married him some -years ago-after her other husband-his name was Pritchard-died ---- "You need not go into particulars!" "I thought maby you'd know her!" "No, no. Go on!" "Well, she was asking me about going away to Australia, and how much it would take to get me there, and I was telling her how much I hated to leave my dear sister, that I hadn't seen for so many years-you know it would be hard, wouldn't it?" as hard as to leave an old friend-when, all of a sudden, I gave a start, and I says, in a loud voice, which made her jump near out of her skin: "' That's him by G--d!" "Who,' she said." "And you told her?" asked Sydney, with alarm. "You men- sioned my name?" "No, I didn't but she did!: "She did?" i( Yes! She said: ' Do you mean that tall, palefaced man, with hair slightly tinged with gray, as if he had grown old before his time?' "' "' I told her that- was the man I meant, and she said, ' That is 5Mr. Sydney Heaton. He has been pointed out to me several times.' "' He is the man for me,' says I, and I bolted-out of the house and cut after you. You had turned the corner, and was not to be seen, but I kept on the lookout, and before long, I saw you come out of a house near by, and from that hour to this I've never left your trail." page: 64-65[View Page 64-65] " OUT OF THE STREETS, CHAPTER VII. A BARGAIN! THE PRICE-OF KEEPING A SECRET AND THE COST OF SELF-EXPATRIATION. "But when men think they most in safety stand, The greater peril is at hand."-DRAYTON. "AND now that you have hunted me down, what do you want, bloodhound?"Sydney exclaimed, in tones of suppressed excite- merit. "( Dick Watkins, that's my name at present; it ain't the same I had when you first knew me, nor the one I had when the Vigi- lance Committee paid me such particular attention, but it answers the purpose at present. Dick Watkins never deserted a friend in distress, and I don't think you would either, or else I shouldn't have taken the trouble to wait for you in the streets. I should called at your house, and if you hadn't seen me, why, perhaps your wife would, and I know she is tender-hearted, because I have seen her!" "Scoundrel!" "Don't call names. That's a game two can play at, tool What would people call you if-but we agreed to let bygones be bygones. Yes, I saw your wife and she does you credit! I haven't seen a woman that pleased. my eye so much for years! Got plenty of style and action, and an eye-well, if she hasn't got pluck then, I'm no judge of a woman. She'd be powerful ugly, I reckon, if you touched her pride or raised her wrath!" Do not discuss her before me, but come to the point at once. What do you want? "Money!" "Of course. How much?" "Beggars should not be choosers! 9 OUT OF THE STREETS. 65 "How much, I say?" "What is my absence worth!" "What will satisfy you?" "As much as I can get!" "If you think I am a rich man, and that in me you have a mine of wealth, you are mistaken. I have lost my entire fortune! "You have enough to gamble!" "How do you know?" "I know the sort of house you just came out of!" "I have lost heavily!" "Did you lose to-night? "No. I won!" "So much the better. We can settle matters on the spot!" "Name your price to leave this place and never to return!" "What, to go away and never come back I To leave my dear sister, my old friend, and never see your proud beauty of a wife any more! Think of the sacrifice I make! The price should be a good one! ' "Will a thousand dollars satisfy you?" "Make it two thousand and it's a bargain. Cheap at that. The climate of Australia might not agree with me, and then you'd get rid of me sure enough!" "I will not haggle with you! I will give you one thousand dollars now, and I will give you a draft upon a banker in Mel- bourne for another thousand, to be paid six months after your presentation of it, on your arrival there. But, understand me, with this proviso, that if you ever come back again, no matter what the consequences may be to me, I will hand you over to the authorities and have you hung like a dog! Do you accept?" "It's hard lines, Mr. Heaton, but I don't want to be too heavy on you, so make it fifteen hundred now, and a thousand at Mel- bourne, and we'll call it fixed! "Enough! Come with me! Heaton led the way out of the park, and after they had pro- ceeded some distance he descended the steps of a cheap restaurant in the Bowery, and, telling Dick Watkins to order what he liked, he entered a small compartment, shut off from the view of visitors by a small red curtain. Here, unseen by any one, he drew forth the large sum he had won, and counting out the amount agreed page: 66-67[View Page 66-67] " OUT OF THE STREETS. upon, he replaced the remainder in his breast-pocket and called Dick to join him. The outlaw made his appearance, glass in hand, and coolly seated himself opposite to Heaton. Placing his elbows on: the table, and resting his chin on his hands, he took a calm survey of his victim's features. "You have changed a great deal since we parted ten years and more ago," he said, half musingly. "There's lines in your face that Time didn't draw there, and you have lost that fine color in your cheeks? Your beard is gray, and your hair is half white. But I should have knowed you anywhere, and should if I'd meet you ten, ay, twenty years to come. That's so!" "We shall never meet again,5"Heaton replied, firmly, " except at your peril! I have said so, and by heaven, I will keep my word! There is your money, the price of your silence-would to God it were a millionth part of the price my sin has cost me! Take it and leave me!" "All right!" exclaimed the shameless villain, grasping the notes with a nervous clutch, and counting them over slowly- "all right! Now how about the draft? I' "That you shall have on the day on which you sail for Mel- bourne!' "No gammon, you know!"Dick replied, with a cunning leer. "You don't want to play any tricks! "You have my word,') Heaton answered, haughtily, rising to leave the place. "Enough said, if you mean it! I'll take the next vessel that goes round the Horn. I'd rather not go by way of California." "On the day the vessel sails you shall receive the draft. It will be given into the hands of the Purser, to be delivered to you when you are off Barnegat light! Meantime, let me not see you, and as you value your life, silence!" "Mum's the word, Cap'en i Won't you take something with me before we part, for old acquaintance sake?" Heaton did not reply even with a look, but left the cellar with a rapid step. "He bled easier than I reckoned he would! ' Dick Watkins muttered to himself, as, after paying for the liquor he had drunk, and lighting a pipe, he wended his way thoughtfully apross the OUT OF THE STREETS. 67 town. "He bled easier than I thought he would, and is in a bad scare. I let him up too easy. Never mind, if Kate does the square thing she may be able to manage him better. I'll go and sound her! and the outlaw directed his steps to Doctor Bolton's residence. i! ;, page: 68-69[View Page 68-69] 68 OUT OF THE STREETS. CHAPTER VIII. KATE PRITCHARD'S WIDOWHOOD, AND HOW SHE MANAGED TO BECOME A WIFE AGAIN. "And bear abont the mockery of woe To midnight dances and the public show."--PoPE. WE left Kate Pritchard in the Tombs, from whence she was released the same day, and returned to her home. A few days after, her husband, who had been to the West on business, returned, ill of a fever contracted in the "Edens " of Illinois while seeking customers for the hardware house in whose interest he was travelling, .and within a few weeks died, leaving his bright-eyed wife a widow. The limited resources of thei defunct were not by any means sufficient to supply the delicate tastes and extravagant wants of his wife, but her resources were unlimited, and to gratify her inordinate vanity, her ambition and her ex- travagance, she had not hesitated, when other means failed her-- as we have seen-to bring herself within the clutches of the law. Not that the fair and shrewd Mrs. Pritchard intended to do anything of the kind. Oh, no! she had no scruples as to how she obtained what she desired and which her husband's means could not supply, but she never meant to put herself within the meaning and intent of the statute which characterized obtaining goods or money by false pretences as fraud, punishable by incar- ceration within the gloomy walls of a prison-she never meant that., Her great virtue was, to "6 keep unknown, not to leave undone," and so shrewd an operator was she upon the credulity and con- fidence of mankind in general, and dry goods dealers, milliners, mantuamakers, jewelers, and dispensers of luxuries, both edible or for imbibition, in particular, that she experienced fewn wants OUT OF THE STREETS 69 or desires that she did not find the means of gratifying at the expense of her victims, without rendering herself liable to any greater annoyance than that of being well dunned! This she bore like a philosopher. The Duns generally gave her up like an unsolvable conundrum, and left the beautiful and fascinating sinner to victimize some one else. She had been arrested o ce or twice, it is true, but as in the in- stance where we first hg the honor of introducing her to the reader, had managed her peculative transactions so shrewdly, and had made her false representations so guardedly, that she had managed to avoid punishment of any serious character or pro- longed duration. Mrs. Pritchard, then, was no sooner a Widow than she set about becoming a Wife. She donned her widow's weeds with the utmost decorum, and chose such as best became her. And, really, in her widow's cap, her pretty mourning-bonnet -they wore bonnets at the time of which we write-and the taste- fully cut and neatly-fitting crape dress she assumed, her bright eyes, her small, dimpled mouth, her little white teeth, her retreat- ing chin, her dark, wavy tresses, and her Juno-like figure, shone to even greater advantage than they had when she wore the gayer fashionable colors of the day. She even impressed that immaculate model of an uxorious hus- band, Peter Pivot, who, in the course of business and by a strange coincidence, was called to superintend and carry out the funeral arrangements. When Peter first appeared in her presence after her bereave- ment, he failed to recognize the beautiful and interesting creature in whose presence he found himself, and it was not until she had descended to question him in regard to cost, and to ask him to wait a short time after the funeral for his money, that Peter, with an eye to business, began to scrutinize her features more closely, and at last calling to his memory the occasion of their first and last meeting, said: "I really beg your pardon, mum, but haven't I seen those liga- ments, I mean your face, somewhere before? Let me see where was it." page: 70-71[View Page 70-71] 70 OUT OF THE STREETS ' I do not remember that I ever met you before," replied the sighing siren. "This sad and sudden bereavement is the first that I have been called upon to bear since I was a child and stood by the bedside of my dying parents!" "No, I don't think as the party I called to see, and as I after- ward put up, was any relation to you. Perhaps I can call it to your mind if I state as the party left a little boy, a h'orphan. Perhaps if I am more h'implicit, and say that the occasion I refer to happened in a public h'institootion known as the Tombs, so called after the catamounts of Egypt, mum, you may call it to mind." "Would you insult me, sir and at such a time?" exclaimed the baffled widow, indignantly. "I never h'insult anybody, mum," Peter replied; "but I mean what I say, and I'm not to be done. If you want my services in putting your 'usband h'up, I'm agreeable. I'm very sorry for you, as I am for every one that is in trouble. If I hadn't known your ligaments, as I said before, I don't know what your hand- some face mightn't 'ave made me do-and shouldn't I 'ave caught it from Mrs. P. neither if I 'ad been spooney; but under the cir- cumstances, mum, I'm not to be done, so I name the price; if you pay it-in h'advance-I'm h'agreeable to proceed; if not I shall 'ave the 'onor of bidding you good-by, and wishing you many 'appy returns of the day!-I mean," he added, checking himself, "wishing as you will meet somebody as will do the job on tick!" Thus caught, there was nothing for it but to pay the money, which she did, and Peter Pivot kept his word, and buried the late lamented Mr. Pritchard, with all the honors he could afford -for the price-no more. Among the first to offer consolation to the beautiful widow was the person who is her present husband-one Doctor Bolton-a most excellent man, of good family, and of considerable wealth. He was a physician, who had once enjoyed a large practice, but inheriting a considerable fortune from a maiden aunt, and having been largely successful in real estate speculations, had given up the greater portion of his patients, and only visited pro- fessionally a few of his more esteemed personal friends. He was about forty years old, and although not handsome, was a man of fine, dignified presence and distinguished appearance. OUT OF THE STREETS. 71 Ieo was well educated, thoroughly versed in- all the mysteries of his profession, in which he had been eminently popular, and being of a scientific turn of mind, with considerable skill in the mechanic arts, he was the inventor of several useful surgical' instruments, from which he also derived no inconsiderable reve- nue. He had not known anything of Mrs. Pritchard's antecedents previous to his first meeting with her, a short time before her husband's death, and though he subsequently discovered that she was not all that his fancy had painted her, he had been so caught by her beauty, her wit, intelligence, and accomplishments that, for the first time in his life, he had cast prudence to the, winds, and given himself up to her dominion, and became her slave. Mrs. Pritchard, however, was not easily won, even by such a wealthy and desirable suitor as the retired doctor, for she knew 'that she could choose among a dozen, some of whom were nearly equally eligible; while if she could manage to hold the doctor firmly in her train, she might, perchance, find an admirer, even richer than he, and therefore more desirable. So she encouraged his addresses,-though, for a long time, she refused her consent to the union he proposed. At last, however, whether doubtful of securing a wealthier admirer, or because she thought she saw signs of impatience in her ardent wooer, and grew fearful that, in playing her fish with too loose a line, he might throw out the hook, and thus escape her altogether, she yielded her consent, and they were married privately. The next day they sailed for Europe, where they remained for four years. Mrs. Bolton, however, soon found that, though the doctor was rich and, to a limited degree, liberal, he was no spendthrift, and did not believe in making ducks and drakes of his money. He found her extravagant, wasteful, vain, luxurious, and thor- oughly selfish in the gratification of every whim and taste. This led at first to gentle remonstrance, then to expostulation, finally to a downright prohibition, and the doctor's taking the purse-strings entirely into his own hands, and controlling her expenditures. page: 72-73[View Page 72-73] 72 OUT OF THE STREETS. This was so foreign to anything that she had ever taken into her calculation in contemplating her union with the ardent doctor, that she made his conduct a casus belli at once, and from that mo- ment there was not only a skeleton in the doctor's house, but one in every closet. OUT OF THE STREETS. 73 CHAPTER IX. THE HOUSE IN tfREAT JONES STREET-THE MSSING DIAMONDS. -THE POISONED RING--THE MRROR. "Without hearts there is no home."--BYoN. "I am disgrac'd, impeach'd and baffled here, The which no balm can cure, but his heart's blood." SHAKESPFIARE. ON their return from Europe they had taken up their residence in a house belonging to the doctor, in Great Jones-street, and hither let us follow them, for, as Mrs. Bolton will perform rather an important part in this veracious narrative, it will be well for the reader to see her in all of the various phases-of her character. The house in Great Jones-street had nothing to distinguish it from the majority of residences in the same locality. It was a plain, substantial mansion; large, roomy, and possess- ing few of what are now classed as " modern improvements." The doctor occupied the front room on the first floor as a sort of office, library and workshop combined. Here he wrote his let- ters, transacted his business, kept his accounts, received his visi- tors, and indulged occasionally in his mechanical and scientific pursuits. The back room on the same floor he used as a sleeping apart- ment, while Mrs. Bolton's rooms were in the upper part of the house, the drawing-room being on the second floor. About the time -at which the events which we have described in the last chapter transpired, Mrs. Bolton was seated one even- ing in the drawing-room of the house in Great J6nes-street. It was furnished magnificently, yet with great taste. Large mirrors in elaborately carved gilt frames reached from the high ceiling to the floor, upon which was spread a Turkey carpet of beautiful texture and great beauty. page: 74-75[View Page 74-75] 74 OUT OF THE STREETS. Pictures, evincing artistic taste and refined judgment, hung upon the walls, and scattered here and there, in graceful and ele- gant confusion, were rare objects of vertu and choice specimens of art from various parts of the globe. At the lower end of the large room was a small alcove fitted up as a miniature conservatory, in which were a few rare exotics, and a small fountain, whose silvery tinkling fell pleasantly upon the ear. Just within the alcove, a mirror was so placed that a person standing inside could observe everything which transpired in the room, though only its purpose appeared to be to reflect the floral beauties otherwise hidden from view. Mrs. Bolton, in a large velvet-lined chair, reclining backward so that her beautiful head lay upon the softly-cushioned back of the fauteuil, played with an elegant fan she held in her hand, plucking now and then a speck of the cygnet's down with which it was tiped, and holding it a moment before the light, blew it away with a gentle puff, and watched it as it floated for a moment in air and then gently sank upon the carpet. Her husband sat on one side of her, and standing within a few feet of him was a tall man in plain clothes. He was rather stout, with a ruddy-complexion, a keen bright eye, and full, sensual lips, which in spite of their fullness displayed much firmness and decision when he spoke. The doctor wore a countenance which betrayed anxiety of the most painful character, and he turned his eyes ever and again toward his wife, sitting so calmly before him, and when he did so, the anxious look seemed to give way to one of wonder and amaze- ment. "I am. very sorry to urge the matter," said the person standing, who was no other than Captain Leopard, one of the most experi- enced and intelligent of the detective officers of the day, and who spoke, continuing a conversation which had evidently be going on for some time--"I am very sorry to urge the matter, but I must do my duty, painful as it may be. The diamonds were missed immediately after the lady left the case, where she had been ex- amining some fancy articles of remarkable workmanship, and as no one had been near them but her, the conclusion was a nat- ural one, that she taken them!"J OUT OF THE STREETS. ' 75 "But are you quite sure of the honesty of your clerk?" asked Mrs. Bolton, turning languidly to an elderly gentleman who sat near her husband. "Quite," was the reply. "The honesty of every one in my employ is assured, more particularly, Mr. Mead, the person in charge of the diamond case. I would answer for his honesty with -my life!" "Is it not possible," Doctor Bolton asked, "that they could have -been mislaid-dropped, for instance, into the case, and been hidden from sight by other articles?" "No, sir, I assure you the most thorough search was made be- fore we applied to Mr. Leopard, and secured his aid in endeavor- ing to recover the missing diamonds." "I shall be sorry to be obliged to proceed to extremities in the case," said the officer, addressing himself to the doctor; "but unless this lady confesses that she took the diamonds, and makes restitution, I shall be obliged to take her in custody! If she re- stores the diamonds, I think I am authorized to say that no fur- ther proceedings will be taken, nor any exposure made of the affair! Am I right, Mr. Bellamy?" "You are," replied the jeweler. "My respect for Doctor Bol- ton, and a desire to prevent any unnecessary laceration of his feelings, prompt me to make such a promise I " But she denies having taken them!"' urged the doctor. "Do you not, madame?" "I have already said all that is necessary for me to say under the circumstances," Mrs. Bolton answered, with a slight curve of the lip, while that peculiar light which we have remarked before, suffused her eyes. "The diamonds are not in my possession, nor do I know anything of them! I shall say no more-do what you may!" "Much as I regret the termination of this interview, then, there is but one thing to be done, which my duty as a citizen and an honest man urges me to do. I must appeal to the magistrates. Captain Leopard, I leave the rest with you." "Then, madame, I shall have to request you to come with me!" said the officer. "I must perform my duty." Madame did not rise-from her chair, but raising herself from the half-recumbent position she had maintained through the in- page: 76-77[View Page 76-77] 76 OUT OF THE STREETS. terview, looked the captain full in the face with' her eyes flashing fire, and said in a determined voice: "If you take me from here, you will take a corpse, for I swear before heaven I will not go alive with you from this house!: The doctor's face betrayed the emotions which racked him as he paced the floor in terrible excitement, consulting his watch each moment. "I hope that madame will not make it necessary for me to use force! "Employ what force you please, I shall not change my deter- mination I " she replied, calmly. "I will not go!" "Then, madame--" the officer began, taking a step toward her. She rose and confronted him like a tigress. Drawing from her finger a ring of antique form, she waved him back with her left arm, saying: "If you lay but a finger on my person, I will swallow the con- tents of this ring, a sudden deadly poison! I am in earnest! No one knows that better than you " The officer stood appalled, as the beautiful demon, her figure drawn up it to full height, her bosom heaving, her lips com- pressed,- her eyes emitting that strange phosphorescent light, confronted him in her bold defiance. Ere he could recover his astonishment, there was a loud knock heard at the door! The next moment, a servant entered, and gave the doctor a note. He hastily glanced at the directions, and advanced toward the jeweler, saying: "For you, Mr. Bellamy, I see.!" Madame still stood motionless as a statue. Mr. Bellamy tore open the envelope, and after glancing at the contents of the note, he sank down upon a sofa, exclaiming: "Thank Heaven!" "For what?" asked the officer: "are your suspicions con- firmed' " "I am glad to say they are not! Listen first to the contents of this welcome note, and I will make my apology after!" So saying, Mr. Bellamy read as follows.- "MR. BELLAMY: "DEAR SIR-I dispatch this in great haste to inform you that the missing diamonds have-been found. They had fallen under the case, and had rolled into a crevice in the flooring, where I discovered them a moment since-though it is surprising how they ever came there. I hope that the lady will pardon the unfor- ' tunate accident which must have caused herself and husband so much pain and inconvenience. Hoping this will reach you in time to avert both, I am "Yours respectfully, BENJAMN MEAD." The jeweler had scarcely finished the reading of the note when madame's assumed calmness deserted her, and, with an exclama- tion, she sank nearly fainting into her chair. "Doctor Bolton," exclaimed the jeweler, " can you forgive me for the suffering I have caused by my precipitation? Any repara- tion I can make-but no, all the jewels in my establishment could not repay you for the shame and grief which I have caused you." "Say no more," the doctor replied. "I will not listen to an- other word! You acted as any one else--only with more consid- eration--would have acted. - I am sure Mrs. Bolton will forgive you too. Will you not madame?" "I will forgive anything to be relieved of the presence of these men! Let them begone! 5" was madame's reply, as she waved the jeweler back, who attempted to approach her for the purpose of asking her pardon. "Then let us begone at onde,?' said the jeweler to the officer. "I am sure I shall never forgive myself. Come, captain; to re- main longer would be cruel.!" The officer followed the abashed and mortified jewler to the door, and bowing to Doctor Bolton, they both left the room. The door was no sooner closed after them than Doctor Bolton, rushing to his wife, who sat with her eyes half-closed, seized her by the arm, and dragging her to her feet, exclaimed: "This -forms a fitting climax to your other vile acts! To-night we part forever! To-morrow morning you must leave the city!" "What do you mean!" "I mean that had I delayed an hour, had I not known you, all the world would by this time have branded you as a thief! But I knew the diamonds had been stolen by you! I guessed where page: 78-79[View Page 78-79] 78 OUT OF THE STREETS. you had sold them, I went to the place, redeemed them at double their value, and caused them to be returned in the manner you have heard! I have saved you from the disgrace and punishment of your crime, anid I have saved my honor! You have heard my resolution, madame, to-night we part for ever. You must leave New York to-morrow!" "How if I refuse?" "You dare not!" ( Dare not! I dare do a great deal! "Understand me, madame. In resigning, as I have, all hopes of happiness with you as my wife, I do not, and never will, re- sign myself to shame and dishonor! I married you because I fancied that I loved you. Siren that you are, you witched me with your arts. You threw a glamour over me, you overcame my prudence, you made me set at naught all my ideas of what I had conceived my wife should be! You were beautiful in my eyes, and I hoped, by kindness, to redeem you from the follies- not to call them by a harsher name-which you had committed, and develop in you all the good I was fool enough to believe cir- cumstances and a false position had perverted in you! I have proved you wanting in even the germ of goodness. Cold, indif- ferent, and disdainful, not a word of affection has ever fallen from your lips, not a tear for all the suffering and disappointment you have caused me, has ever moistened those bright but cruel eyes! I madly fancied that by elevating you I could inspire you with self-respect, with consideration for your honor and my own. But you have made my home a hell. You have obliged me to close my doors against the knaves and demireps you have introduced into it. You have robbed me to satisfy your morbid vanity and wicked selfishness, and you finish by turning a common thief and shoplifter!" Could he have seen the shadow on her face--could he have seen the devilish expression which glittered in her eyes ere he had half finished the catalogue of charges he brought against her, he would have been a bold man, indeed, had he not held his peace! She made no reply, but as he released her hand, which he had held till now, she turned her back to him and walked away. "You have heard me, madame. You leave New York in the morning! I have made all the necessary preparations for 'your d&?parture. Your destination is St. Louis!" 1l1 - - , OUT OF THE STREETS. 79 She started as if an arrow had pierced her side, but pressing her hand upon her bosom, she suppressed her emotion, and asked, calmly: "Will you not give me a few days to prepare?" "The train leaves at eight. You will be ready to take it!" "Very well, sir, I shall obey. But you are mistaken when you say we shall part for ever. You have spoken: now hear me.'" She was interrupted by the entrance of a servant, who desirede- to know whether supper should be served. i"Yes," replied madame, seating herself. The servant left the room with a look of astonishment, and in a few moments returned to announce that supper was served. Meanwhile madame continued to pace the room--not in any external agitation-she was too much of a mistress over her man- ifestations for that-but the smothered tempest that raged within, could it have broken forth, would have swept all before it in its terrible intensity. At last she stopped, and paused for a moment before one of the large mirrors. She gazed into it abstractedly for a few seconds, as though she were pondering on some resolution, or making up her mind what course to pursue. Then she turned toward the table, and approaching it, leaned for a moment on the back of a chair. Suddenly she reeled, nearly falling; but, by what seemed a strong effort of will, she still clung to the chair, and at last sunk , into it, saying: "The heat --theod Qr of the flowers!-Air r1 The doctor, who had been watching her with anxious looks, went at once toward the fountain in the alcove at the further end of the room, to procure some water, and passing inside, was lost to sight. In a moment all evidence of weakness left her. She rose, and taking a step or two in the same direction, watched him with glaring eyes. Then quickly returning to tlihe table, she seized a small glass, opened the signet of the ring she wore upon her fin- ger, and quickly let fall into the glass one or two drops of color- less liquid which had filled the cavity of the ornament. Having done this she again seated herself, and her face assumed the same oalm expression it had worn before. The doctor returned from the alcove and stood leaning on the page: 80-81[View Page 80-81] 80 OUT OF THE STREETS. mantel for an instant, watching her, and then approached the table and stood opposite to her. She looked at him in a careless way, saying. "Thank you; I am better." "The heat is very oppressive," he observed, putting his hand to his head. ("It has afflicted me as well--that and the prefulme of these flowers!" Without moving a muscle of her face, without the least trem- ulousness of the hand; without betraying by the slighest look or motion the excitement which she must have felt, or the strong purpose which animated her, she raised a decanter of wine and filled the wine-glass into which she had poured the poison, to tiAe brim. "You are decidedly better," the doctor said, taking up the wine-glass, as if about to drink--" decidedly better! Your hand does not even tremble. You have resigned yourself to the jour- ney I have decided you shall take." ( I must be resigned! Yes," she answered. "( Shall I tell you why you are resigned?" he asked, looking her full in those dangerous and deadly eyes, which gleamed like a snake's--" shall I tell you the reason of your submission and your obedience?" "You know? Have I any particular reason? ' "Yes. You consent to this journey; you prgtend to obey me because you know that I shall die to-night! /" "I! You die to-night! What do you mea n? I pray you do not speak in riddles!" "I will speak plainer. Your hand was firm, your face immov- able when you filled this little glass. You have filled it to the very brim, and have not spilled a drop, although you knew that' Death was in it! Shallow, would-be murderess! The mirror in yon room betrayed you! I watched you pour the poison in, and see, you have forgotten to close the signet of your deadly ring!" It was true, the cavity which had contained the poison remained open. Clasping her haand upon the ring, she rose to her feet. Her face was pale as ashes. She raised her arm and pointed toward her intended victim, as if she would have spoken, but she only uttered a piercing scream, and fell senseless upon the floor. 1 OUT OF THE STREETS. 8 i! 1 81 IO X CHAPTER X. BROTHER AND SISTER EXCHANGE CONFIDENCES. "My passions were all living serpents And twin'd like the gorgons round me."--BYRon. THE doctor gazed upon the insensible form of his wife, lying prone upon the floor, for a moment, with a countenance in which. grief and horror were plainly discernible. "Infamous woman !" he exclaimed, at last; " she is not fit to live!" He made a step toward her, then suddenly paused, and again gazed upon her with a look of intense agony, succeeded by an expression of determination, as he rushed to the table, and seizing the poisoned glass, held it to his lips. "No, no!" he exclaimed' dashing the glass from him into the grate, "I will not rush unbidden into the presence of my Judge By this time the noise of madame's fall had brought the ser- vtants into the room, and telling them to look to their mistress, the doctor quitted the apartment and the houise. They raised her from the floor, and within a few minutes, con- 'sciousness returning, M[rs. Bolton opened her eyes and glanced quickly around the room. "Has he gone? " she asked. "Do you mean the doctor, ma'am '- "Yes! ': "He has left the house. I heard the front-door slam just after he left the room. She gave a sigh of relief, and ordered all to leave her except one of the servants who had answered her questions, and who, act- ilg in the capacity of her waiting-woman, was to some extent in her confidence. page: 82-83[View Page 82-83] 82 OUT OF THE STREETS. "Are you better now?" the maid asked, when they were left alone. "Yes. I have been a fool." "There is a man below who wishes to see you," the maid said, in a low voice, "( and H-" "What man?" "The same coarse, r man who has been here before, and- that you told me to say othing about. He says ' must see you to-night, and as it's after twelve o'clock-- "I will see him," she answered, quickly. "Go and bring him to me, and while he is here do not let any one enter this room. If the doctor returns, hasten to warn me." "My brother! Can it be my good or my evil genius which brings him here at such a time!" she said to herself, when the girl had left the room. Go to St. Louis! He named St. Louis! Why? Can he know? No, no! that secret is, at least, secure. Fool that I was to forget the mirror, and let him detect my purpose! What is to be done? Perhaps my vagabond brother may suggest some plan. He is here!" Dick Watkins entered the room cautiously, and looked about him as if struck by the elegance and luxury of the place, and then approaching his sister, who was seated, said: "You've got rather a nice thing of it here, Kate. I never see such style afore. You've played you cards well." "Silence!" the woman exclaimed, "and listen to me. To-night I must leave this place!" "Leave it! You are not such a fool. Leave it! Catch you leaving a good thing! What would you leave it for?" "Because I can stay here no longer. To-night matters have reached a climax with me, and to-morrow I must be out of the reach of my husband." "Why, what's up? You haven't been fool enough to quarrel with your bread and butter?" ("You know me too well," she answered, "to believe that I married this man for love. He was rich-I was poor. I hate poverty. I hate all the petty shifts to which it must resort-its pinchings and its obscurity-its meanness. I would have resorted to any means, accepted anybody, rather than endure a life of poverty, and so I married this man. I thought, as his wife, to be *!,/ OUT OF THE STREETS. 83 able to enjoy all that wealth could bring-that I should be able to gratify all my tastes, and live in ease and luxury." "Yes, you always was inclined that way," said Dick, helping himself to a glass of wine. "For a time," the woman continued, "my expectations were fulfilled, but after a few months I found that there was a limit to my husband's liberality. He began to complain of my extrava- gance, and things grew worse and worse, until we came. to an open rupture. He refused to supply me with money, and, of course, I rebelled. I ran up debts which he has been obliged to pay, and to-day, feeling desperate, and resolved to have money at whatever cost, I managed to get possession of some diamonds, which I sold. The diamonds were missed and traced to me, and the result has been that he threatens me with separation and di- vorce, and has ordered me to prepare to leave the city to-morrow for St. Louis." "The devil!" the man exclaimed, giving a long cow whistle. That won't do at any price." "Of course that is out of the question!"Mrs. Bolton added. "I must leave this house! This man may, at any moment, turn upon me, for, to a certain extent, I have placed myself in his power! Besides, I hate him! I despised him from the first, but now I hate him; and as there is no longer any object to be se- cured by remaining under his roof, as he now knows me throughly, and there is no prospect of my ever being able to make him use- ful to me again, I will leave him!" "Don't make any mistakes, Kate," the man replied, after a moment's pause. "You may be able to pull the wool over his eyes again. You know you can do most anything in that way when human natur' is to be played upon." "My power over this man is lost!; she exclaimed -" lost for ever! I am sure of it, and to try to win him back were time spent in vain. Besides, I tell you, I hate him! The world is wide, and," she added, with a glance in the mirror opposite, to her, which reflected her siren face and beautiful form, i"I do not think that I have lost all my power! "But if you leave him," Dick urged, "what are you going to do? You are giving up rich diggin's for poor tailings, it seems to me, and that ain't smart!" page: 84-85[View Page 84-85] 84 OUT OF THE STREETS. "I have anticipated this condition of affairs," she replied, " and have been some time preparing for the emergency. I have money enough to support me for at least a year. Who knows what may not be accomplished in that time. If the worst comes. to the worst, I have my jewels. They are good for a year more! ' "Then I tell you what you'll do,"' the man exclaimed, as if struck by an idea. "Cut away with me to Australia. I go by the first ship. Let us go together. There nobody knows you, nor me either, and we may both strike a rich lead." "You are going to Australia? Then you have taken my ad- vice." "Well, you see, I didn't mean to take it. As long as you had a good thing here, I had made up my mind that you wouldn't let your poor brother suffer, and that my going to Australia was all very well for you, but not just the thing for me, and so I made up my mind to stay where I was. But things have changed. 'I've seen the man I've been looking for, and he's given me such good reasons for altering my mind that I've done it, and i am going in the next ship." "Who is this man?" "Mr. Sydney Heaton." "What can there be betwixt you and him? He is a rich, aris- tocratic gentleman, and you --" "A poor, played out, hunted down vagabond. All right! Did you ever hear of a rich, aristocratic gentleman that at some time or another had gone in for a little game in which a poor, played opt, hunted down vagabond had taken a hand?" "Do you mean to say Sydney Heaton . " "I says nothing now," replied the man. "This is no time nor place to talk over such matters as you might want to know about. If }Ir. Heaton wants me to go to Australia, and gives me good reasons why I should go, and pays me money enough to set me on my pins again-pays my passage, and gives me a good stake when I get there, and I go, what then? Ain't it natural? I don't want to be hiding and skulking around New York with a price on my head, and so I am going. What's to hinder your going with me?" "Much! I am not :so fond of your society as to desire to have you always with me. Besides, I cainnot trust you. You threat- OUT OF THE STREETS. 85 ened when you first discovered me in New 'York to betray the only secret you knew of mine, unless I gave you money, shelter, and protection, which I did, although your betrayal of me would have done little harm, as things have turned out." "No harm, eh? Why, suppose I should tell this man now, that you are going to leave, as you say, what I know of your do- ings in St. Louis, what a hold he would have on you, and what hold could you ever have on him? You are his wife, ain't you? That's something, ain't it?" "Be silent!" the-woman exclaimed. "You see I am right. I cannot trust you. Let us part here, and part forever! I shall leave this house to-night--within an hour. It is now daylight. Go and get me a coach, while I gather together such things as I can take with me." As she addressed these remarks towards her brother, she had approached a massive escritoire which stood in the room, and with a small key, attached to a fine gold chain which she wore sus- pended from her neck, she opened a small drawer in the escritoire and took from it several valuable ornaments and some letters, which she placed in her bosom. Then touching a spring in the false bottom of the drawer, she lifted it, and took frca it a parcel of papers which were concealed underneath. page: 86-87[View Page 86-87] 86 OUT OF THE STREETS. CHAPTER XI. THE MNIATURE AND THE MARRIAGE CERTIFICATE-SYDNEY HEATON'S PEACE OF MND IN MORE DANGER THAN EVER. "I well believe Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know; And so far will I trust thee.'- SHAKESPEARE. As she did so, one of the papers, being loose, dropped from her hand, and, fluttering away, fell upon the floor, unobserved by her. Dick Watkins saw it, picked it up, and glanced over it. He started as he did so, and turning to his sister, asked: "Where did you come across this document? What are you doing with it?" The woman turned round quickly to see what it was to which. he referred, and, recognizing it, quickly put out her hand to grasp the piece of paper; but Dick withdrew it out of her reach,. saying-: "Wait a moment. I may want this myself! Why, where the devil did you pick it up?? "What is it to you?" the woman asked. "It came into my hands years ago, and I kept it, thinking it might some day be useful to me; but other things have put it out of my head." "It is a certificate of marriage between Richard Norman and Helen Fairly!" "( Yes, yes! She died in prison, just after her child was born!: "A child! . ' "Yes, a boy!" : What became of him? Did he die, too?" "' Not then!" ( What became of him?" OUT OF THE STREETS. 87 "I don't remember. I suppose he was sent to the island or somewhere. They talked about sending him to the nursery, but I don't know whether they did. Give me that paper!" "What's the use of it?" he asked, folding it up and preparing to put it in his pocket. "' The woman is dead, and the boy is out of the way, and I suppose, don't know or care, if he should hap- pen to be alive, whether he had a mother or not. What's the use of this to you? It might serve my turn through, and so I'll take 'care of it!" "Of what use -can it be to you? You know neither the man or the woman; she is dead, and her husband, so she said, was drowned at sea. I read that in the papers, the day after she died. If I remember, she gave the name of Mary Wright, when she was brought out of the streets, where she was found in a dying condition! "Mary Wright, eh? -Changed her name!" "EI thought it strange at the time that she should be married to so fine-looking and aristocratic a man as her husband was."h "Did you ever see him, then?"Dick inquired, with much in- terest. "No. I have never seen him, but with this certificate, which I took from her bosom, she carried a small locket containing a daguerreotype picture of a young man, whom I supposed, of course, to be her husband!" "Where is that picture? Let me see it!" "Nonsense. Time is precious. . I have none to spare for such long-forgotten things. Give me back the paper, and let me pre- pare for my departure! It is growing late, the doctor may return, and-- "This little bit of paper, and that pictur', if you've got it yet, kmight be worth a pile, if anybody knew how to use 'em," Dick answered in a low voice. "How?" the woman asked, in surprise. "The woman is dead! I know that; I saw her die, and saw her laying pale and cold in death hours after. The husband is dead, too." - "Maybe he is and maybe he isn't," Dick replied. "But whether he is or not, I knowt enough to know that if I'm right, this here paper is good for a heap, if used in a smart way, so let me see the picture." page: 88-89[View Page 88-89] 88 OUT OF THE STREEETS. She opened the package of papers which she had taken from the secret drawer, and from the centre of them produced the locket which she had taken from the bosom of the dying wo- man. The mall snatched it hastily from her, and looked at it eagerly for a moment; then, putting it in the pocket of his coat, he ex- claimed: "( Burn me if this isn't the queerest start I ever knew!" "W 'hat do you mean? If you know anything about this paper, and the original of that picture, which can be of any interest or advantage to me, speak! If not, give both back to me." "As for what I know bein' of any interest to you, that depends on circumstances. As for its bein' of advantage, that depends upon how it's used. It's interest and advantage both, to me, and shall be to you if you deal square with me; if not, why, I'll see what I can do with 'em myself." "No, you shall not keep them! Give them back to me.!" "Why, what use are they? You have had them, you say, for years, and never turned 'em to no account; and only for me you wouldn't never have known they was worth anything. I could work what I want to work without 'em; you couldn't do any- thing with 'em without me; but with this here docyment and this here -pictur, and with what you know and what I know, we can lay our heads together and see what can be done; only you've got to deal square and we'll go snaks!" "But you are going to Australia, you say?" "Well. That's it. I'm going off and am going to leave you here. These things ain't worth nothing. I've got 'em, and mean to keep 'em till I make 'em worth something, and then let you have 'em-that is, if you come down handsome and go snaks on the square. Now I'll go and order the coach. It will be here in an hour. That will give you time for all you've got to do, and you can be off. I won't lose sight o' you, and when you get into your new quarters we'll talk this matter over I suppose I may go out at the front door now, and not go a-sneaking through the cellar, eh?" "Go as you came," she replied. "You will find my maid be- low." "All right. But let me tell you once more to be dead sure a} OUT OF THE STREETS. 89 you're in the right in giving the doctor the slip. He's got the nuggets." No more," she answered, angrily. "Leave me!" "All right!"Dick said, with a shrug of his shoulders, and dis- appeared, leaving his sister alone. Gathering up the ornaments and papers which she had taken from the drawer, together with a few small articles distributed about the room, all of which, besides being beautiful to the eye, were intrinsically valuable, she left the room and made her way toward her own private apartment, where her maid soon attended her. "Is that man gone?"' "Yes, madame." "The doctor has not returned? ' "No, madame; but I found this note upon the .table in his office." "A letter! Give it to me." The girl handed her mistress a sealed note. Mrs. Bolton broke it open and read as follows: "MADAME-To avoid the pain which another interview would cause me, I have left the house, not to return until after your departure, which must take place this morning. I intended that you should go to St. Louis, but shall not, on consideration, insist upon it. Go where you please, but leave the city. You are at liberty to take with you your jewels, dresses, and such articles as I have presented to you, together with the money in your posses- sion from the sale of diamonds which you purloined yesterday. In addition to which, I enclose a check for five hundred dollars. The same sum will be sent to any adress you may name, every three months, so long as you do not take my name or seek to. communicate with me or see me. I shall give out that you have returned to Paris, and thus scandal may, for a time at least, be avoided. "I shall not seek a divorce, unless compelled to do so by your violation of the injunction I have placed upon you not to take my name, or seek to communicate with me in any way. In either event, I shall be obliged, from self-respect, and in self-protection, to evoke justice to rid me of a woman, who has dishonored me and brought disgrace, shame, and misery on my head. A' ASHFORD BOLTON. "N. B.--When you have decided upon a place of residence, send your address to my attorneys, Narr & Chambers, Nassau- street, New York." . - page: 90-91[View Page 90-91] 90 OUT- OF THE STREETS. As she read this letter, which she did standing with her back, to her maid, her face did not betray the least emotion. She was as calm as though the communication were of no earthly interest X to her. After she had finished its perusal, she read the check, while a ? slight sneer curled her proud lip, and then placed it on the table by the side of the papers she had brought from the room below. Once more she glanced at the letter, as if to be sure that there pI was nothing in its contents which she had overlooked; andothen, v while her eyes lit up for a moment with their peculiar light, she tore it into fragments and cast it upon the floor. This over, her face assumed its wonted expression, and turning X to her maid, she gave her such directions as were necessary, which the woman heard with a slight degree of surprise, saying: "Madame is going on a long journey, then? Will she require me to go with her?5" "No!" was the short answer.. "I go alone. Do as I bid you. I shall not forget that you have always been attentive and dis- creet." - The coach, which had waited a long time after the appointed hour, drove away at last, heavily laden with madame's well-filled trunks, madame herself sitting, wrapped in her reflections, in one corner, her hand firmly pressing upon the poisoned ring which she still wore upon her finger. ' As the coach passed the corner of Broadway and turned down that thoroughfare, another carriage was standing in front of the "Bond Street House," and from the window of this vehicle Dick Watkins called to the driver: "Follow that carriage, and don't lose sight of it. When it stops, you stop, and when the lady that's in it gets out, you let me know; do you hear?" "All right, boss!" "Go ahead, then " exclaimed Dick, throwing himself back in the coach and lighting a cigar. OUT OF THE STREETS. 91 CHAPTER XII. THE CITY NURSERY- WAIFS AND ESTRAYS -AN ORPHiAN'S INFANCY. "The drying up a single tear, has more Of honest fame, than shedding seas of gore."-BYRoN. "His are the joys of nature, his the smile, The cherub smile of innocence and health; Sorrow unknown, or if a tear be shed He wipes it soon."--KNox. No city in the world has more reason to boast of her charities and charitable institutions than New York. That her municipal officers and legislators are in many in- stances unfit and corrupt; that gross abuses have crept into nearly every department; that ignorance, dishonesty, and un- scrupulous peculation and fraud mark nearly every day's experi- ence, and that this disgraceful condition of affairs is growing worse and more disgraceful year by year, will not be denied by any one well, or even very imperfectly acquainted with the men who occupy positions of trust and power, or the manner in which these trusts are perverted to the basest political uses, and the manner in which that power is abused and made to be conducive to selfish aggrandizement or to party ends! But, from amid all this corruption, these flagrant abuses and high-handed robbery; standing in a great measure free from the influence of "rings" and organizations whose sole object is the misappropriation of the funds placed at their disposal, the tax- burdened and party-ridden citizen points with proud satisfaction to the Hospitals, Infirmaries, Workhouses, Almshouses, Asylums, Nurseries, "Homes," and Houses of Refuge which stand lasting and beautiful monuments to the wealth, benevolence, liberality, wisdom and foresight of her people. Even among these, however, there are blotches and foul ex- page: 92-93[View Page 92-93] 92 OUT OF THE STREETS. crescences which mar the picture, and foremost among these stands that disgrace to humanity, that fearful index of bad taste t and worse judgment, the City Prison, popularly known as the i "Tombs." Its location-in the midst of what was formerly-a pestiferous and noxious morass, called the "Collect," to which the drainage the filth and refuse of the lower part of the city found its way, - and which for years sent forth its upas-like malaria, carrying i sickness and death wherever its dread influence prevailed-is re- ': pugnant to every idea of common sense and humanity! .; The heavy architectural Monstrosity which has been built over 'e this foul slough cannot and does not prevent the congregation s of foul vapors from rising and filling with miasmatic poison every square foot of space within itso gloomy walls. So powerful are these exhalations, so noxious the poisonous gases which are con- tinually thrown off by the buried mass of reeking putridity i below; that strong, healthy men inhaling them have been found dead after having been shut up in one the cells for a very few hours. Nearly every month we read of some poor prisoner, who was taken up the night before for some trifling misdemeanor, being found dead in the morning, and to add to the horror of the cir- J cumstance, it is not seldom that such statements have been made more horrible by relating how the body of the unfortunate pris- oner wcas partially devoured b)y rats! That such a place as this, used, as it is, as well for charitable as for penitential and reformatory purposes, should be allowed to stand in its present condition a single day, is certainly not creditable to those who have it in charge, and to whom such facts as we have related are, or should be, patent; and it is to be won- dered that a city having so much to boast of in her other char- itable and reformatory institutions, should so long be willing to bear the disgrace and shame of this pest-house! In strong contrast to the place we have just spoken of, stand the Nurseries -on Randall's Island, which for beauty of location, for perfect adaptability to the objects proposed, for their extent, and for the perfect system, the economy and humanitarianism which mark their management, are, we believe, without parallel in the world. OUT OF THE STREETS. 93 Institutions such as this, by sound mental and physical disci- pline, by furnishing the poor and abandoned with the means of education, by enforcing habits of industry, and by the warm sym- pathy and paternal care exhibited in them to the waifs and estrays which come under their influence, act as preventives of the crime and disease which make prisons and hospitals necessary for their punishment or cure. To this institution, after a probation of three years in the Found- ling Hospital on Blackwell's Island, the orphan child of Helen Norman, or, as she had named herself, Mary Wright, had been sent by the Almshouse Commissioners, through the kind offices of Mr. Peter Pivot. He was taken there in company with a half-a-dozen other in- fants of tender years, after a gloomy ride in that notorious pub- lic conveyance, yclept "The Black Maria," and had been duly numbered and ticketed and consigned to the charge of one of the nurses, who had safely guided him, aided by his own naturally vigorous constitution, and a large amount of vitality, through all the perils of the nursing-bottle, the colic, the sprue, the measels, and all the ills that infant flesh is heir to. So well did young Harry-as he was called-thrive under all these difficulties, that he soon achieved the position of the prize- baby, or rather the show-baby of the place. He was the pride of his honest Irish nurse, Bridget, in particular, and the Found- ling in general. The "Governors," on the occasion of their visits and junketings, used to inevitably have No. 136 trotted out for the admiration of visitors; and at such times he never once for- got himself, or behaved otherwise than as a model baby should, who fully appreciated good nursing, plenty of fresh milk, unex- ceptionable pap, artistic caudle, and all the' comforts he enjoyed at the public expense, under the dispensation of the Governors, and for which he felt properly grateful. He was the especial pet, too, of all the visiting ladies, and many a fee found its way into the capacious pocket of the proud Bridget, after exhibiting the fat little duck to the sympathetic ladies, who handled him and dandled him, chirruped to him, chucked him under the chin, and declared that he was "just as sweet as ever he could be." Like a young cub, his troubles were all before him. page: 94-95[View Page 94-95] " OUT OF THE STREETS. He knew nothing of his past, he recked not of all that the ? Future had in store for him I : No infant born with a golden spoon in his mouth, let alone a S silver one, ever found the world more couleur de rose, than No. 136, until he had passed his second year. Having no idea of a mother, Bridget filled the part of one entirely to his satisfaction, and he showed just as much affection for her as could be expected under the circumstances. Could he have managed to have been stunted, and remained a "model baby " for all time, we have no doubt that his existence would have been a very enviable one, for we know of no one who -t-d Stands a better chance of enjoying that ideal " good time," which ; has been so long coming, and is still to come for most of us, than a Pet Baby. There is only one condition of life which will compare with it for comfort, ease, and-leaving lumbago, rheu- matism, and such like trifles out of consideration-good solid enjoyment, and that is being a pet "Old Lady!"I But alas for the inflexible will of Destiny; alas for the muta- bility of all things and every condition, and alas for the unswerv- ing course of Time, No. 136 was obliged to abdicate, after a happy and prosperous reign of two years and a half, in favor of another Pet Baby, and was removed from the Foundling Hospital, duly registered and ticketed once more,. and took his place in the Infant Ward of the Nursery on Randall's Island! . X Bridget parted from her charge with many tears and unnum- bered kisses, which No. 136 did not appreciate as much as he might-had not his mind been occupied by the hubbub caused by his departure, in company with other orphans of his own age, and the novelty of his first steamboat trip, of which he had any recollection. Accordingly he parted with his nurse with stoical firmness, and quite absorbed in the contemplation of the people about him, the gay flags with which the little steamboat was decorated, the glitter of the bright sunlight upon the clear waters of the East River, and the " barber-pole " with which he was half choking himself and getting into a dreadful state of daub and stickiness. We cannot follow the career of No. 136 through the Infant Ward, nor relate the particulars of his education. He was fed, washed, combed, scrubbed, rubbed, cropped, and taught his let- OUT OF THE STREETS. 95 ters, in the same manner as No. 13a and 137 were in those days, and pretty much-with such improvements as experience has suggested-as No. 13,600 is rubbed, scrubbed, cropped, and taught to-day. He progressed from the Infant Ward to Wards of a higher grade, until he was eight years old, when, having mastered the difficulties of the easier part of Webster's spelling-book, having had his knuckles soundly rapped for misholding his pen in form- ing absurd specimens of crude chirography, and having puzzled his brain over the mysteries of the multiplication table-that Slough of Despond, in the way of all travellers toward the Temple of Minerva-he was set to work in one of the shops, and entered upon his apprenticeship as a shoemaker. But our young friend had a soul above upper leathers, and he steadfastly refuse to stick to his last. During school-hours, from nine in the morning till half-past three in the afternoon, he worked like a beaver-none more stu- dious than he. He stood at the head of his class; he overcame all the difficulties of the multiplication table, so that even " twelve times " had no terrors for him. Geography became a delight, and he even made a telling breach in the groundwork of Grammar, but shoemaking did not suit him. When, after school-hours, he was ordered to his bench, his spirit rebelled against it, and he made no progress in the art. ,Not that he was idle, or that he had a natural disinclination for work. Put him in the garden among the flowers or the growing vegetables, and he went to it like a young giant, with hoe, rake or spade. He loved the flowers, the free, fresh air, the river which rolled on either side of him, and the distant, mys- terious hum of the great city, which he had never seen; but the confinement of the bench was irksome to him, and he always went to his allotted task with loathing. He was a general favorite, not only with his companions, but with the teachers and officers of the institution, who liked him for his frankness, honesty and truthfulness, the energy with which he pursued his studies, and the advancement he made. page: 96-97[View Page 96-97] 96 OUT OF THE iTRlEETS. j C APTER XIII. RANDALL'S ISLAND. 6' Oh what a world of beauty fade's away i With the wing'd hours of youth."-DAw ES. As young Harry had been in the Foundling the Show Baby, so on iandall's Island he was the Show Boy. He was the crack speaker on all occasions when visitors came to the school. His recitation of 1"Casabianca "1 was considered by his school- fellows and classmates as the highest perfection to which the art 'of declamation could attain; while he never failed to bring down- the house and -take his seat amid a perfect storm of applause when he " spoke"Drake's "Address to the American Flag,"' and told how "Freedom from her mountain height" created the Starry Banner out of the most impossible sort of materials, in the most impossible manner, and then gave it in charge to her "Standard-bearer," to wave in the battle and the breeze. Then he was the spokesman at all receptions of distinguished visitors, and was selected to deliver "Addresses " whenever such compliments were to be paid, so that he was looked up to with a large amount of veneration -by his companions. On the play-ground, Harry led in most of the sports, and was regarded as an authority in the mysteries of Marble-playing, Kite-flying, Base-ball and Foot-ball; and, as he was brave as a lion, and very strong, he naturally became the champion of the wronged and the oppressed, and many a battle did he fight in the cause of the smaller boys, who had been the victims of the injustice and bullying of others. As he grew older, however, he began to experience a feverish longing to go to New York, to view the great city, of which he- had heard so much from the boys who had; been sent to the Is- OUT OF THE STREETS. 97 land by the authorities, and who were familiar with all the wonders of the metropolis. He would sit for hours listening to them as they told their experiences at "Fires," and described in glowing colors the prowess of their favorite "M[achines;;" how Little Peterson " passed "Forty-one ;" how "Thirty-three "-- "Black Joke "--" washed" "Number Two," or grew eloquent in praise of the invincibility of "Big Six," which all agreed was "The bully machine of 'em all," and that when she "rolled " everything else got "passed," and everything else got "washed." Then at night, when he heard the heavy reverberations of the fire-bells from afar, and the deadened roar of the engines, rolling over the stony streets, as he occasionally could, and saw the lurid light in the sky, he longed to be there, to take a part in the exciting scene, and would lie with listening ears and beating heart, trying to conceive and realize all that he had heard de- scribed. Often, too, the city boys would fire his imagination and create longings scarcely to be resisted, by telling him of the glories of the theatres. Sometimes of the "L Bowery," where Hamblin used to stir their hearts and make them shout "( Hi! Hi!" when, as i "Rolla," he crossed the bridge with the child in his arms, and threatened instant death to any who moved A" one step to follow him ;" or when, as "' Arbaces," he made the blood curdle in their veins, by rolling his black, bright, electric eyes from side to side, while, grasping the frightened "Nydia," by the arm, he startled her by exclaiming, in his deep, round voice, "Your oath! Remem- ber!" Again they told of John R. Scott, and what a great sailor he was, and how he used to evoke Iis " tarry top-lights " as "Tom Cringle," or excite their enthusiasm as "Damon," when he jerked "Lucullus" all over the stage, demanding his "horse," and threatening him with a short road to Tartarus over a neighbor- ing precipice. Again the "i Franklin" would be the theme of their eulogiums, and they would show him how Bill Sefton used to do the "Golden Farmer," a reformed gentleman of the highway; a moral Claude Duval, or bold Dick Tuinin, who, having made money enough by robbing lonely travellers and mail-coaches, had retired from page: 98-99[View Page 98-99] 98 OUT OF THE STREETS. public life and devoted his attention to agriculture, but was not 1 allowed to follow that peaceful pursuit, owing to the wicked machinations of an old "pal," by the name of "Mob," aided and i:Q abetted by one "Jemmy Twitcher," who found a representative in Bill Sefton's brother John, and whose "vel, vot of it '" was a household word among the boys! But Hamblin, Scott and Sefton all paled their ineffectual fires : before the blazing sun of the immortal Kirby, whose great talent ki lay in "dying" at the termination of terrific combats, fought ac- ? cording to rules of " fence" peculiar to himself. When Harry listened to all this, and to their descriptions of - the-scenery, the dresses, the processions, the lights; and heard A them tell of the crowded streets, and the gay shops, the blazing windows, and all the glare- and glitter, the fun, the noise, the : tumult of the city, he felt as though he would have given worlds, if he had them, to see it all for himself. At last, one day, when he had grown to be ten years of age, he was sent for to the room of the superintendent, and entering the presence of that august functionary, was startled almost out of his wits by hearing him say: ! "We are going to send you to New York." Harry could not believe his ears; but looked the superinten- dent in the face with dancing eyes, while his cheeks grew red and then pale again, and his knees trembled, and his tongue clung to the roof of his mouth. At last he managed to stammer out: "To New York, sir? I ( To New York! We are sorry to part with you, but you are now old enough, and capable of supporting yourself, and as we have received an application from a person who desires to take you ^ as an apprentice, and has satisfied us that he is a proper person to have you in charge, we have concluded to apprentice you to him."!1 "He don't want to make a shoemaker of me, sir, does he?": Harry asked, quickly. ' No. He is an undertaker." '( What is that, sir? What kind of work does he undertake?" ' Well, as for that," the superintendent replied, smiling, "he, undertakes to board and clothe you, continue your education, and teach you the business of an undertaker. An undertaker is a I OUT OF THE STREETS. 99 person who furnishes coffins, and so forth, for people who die, and undertakes the arrangements for funerals." This did not strike Harry as being a particularly jolly occupa- tion, or one which promised any great amount of the " fun " with which life in New York was associated in his mind, but he offered no objection, So long as he went to New York, and had even a glimpse of its glories, its excitements, and its wonders, it mattered little by what means he got there, so that he would have been willing to S have gone, even if he had been obliged to make shoes as the price of the gratification, and accordingly said: "Thank you, sir. When am I to go?I': "You will go down on the boat to-morrow morning. When SI lyou arrivee in the cityyouou will be taken to the Commissioner's office, where Mr. Pivot, the person to whom you are to be bound, 8^ twill receive you and take you to his house. He evinces a great deal of interest in you, and has, ever since you have been on the island, having called to see you many times, and--lo "Do you mean that little pussy, bald-headed man that says 'ouse and 'at, and always calls me 'Arry? ' the boy asked. ( Is he the man? ) "Yes, he is the person. He is odd and eccentric, but he has a good heart, is honest, and well off, and will treat you kindly." "Will he let me run with Big Six, and go to see Tom Hamblin play Iolly, an d Joe Kirby? 5"Harry asked, in great excitement. "Bless my heart, no, sir! What are you thinking of,.and where did you ever hear of such things? Of course he will not allow you to go to fires, or to the theatre. If we thought so we should not consent to put you in his charge." -Harry's eyes dropped. What was the use of going to New York if he could not go to the theatre, or see with his own eyes that hydraulic phenomenon, "Big Six? ', "You must obey him," the superintendent continued, 1" in all things; You must be attentive, industrious, honest, and truthful. Keep out of the streets and all the bad associations you will be apt to find there. If you are a good boy, and remember all that is said to you, you will be happy, and become a respectable man, alld a useful member of society." "I'll do everything I alm told," said Iarry. "I know Mr. Iko Bi . E!' page: 100-101[View Page 100-101] 100 OUT OF THE STREETS. Pivot. He never comes here but he brings me something. Some- times he gives me oranges and candies. He gave me a ball once, and a big skein of twine to fly kites with, and he didn't mind it when I laughed at his calling me 'Arry, and asking me if I was 'appy, and whether I shouldn't like a h'apple to h'eat." "Very well, then, it is understood that you leave to-morrow. Now you may go." Harry went away with beaming eyes and a bounding heart; his legs could hardly carry him to the play-ground quick enough, where his companions were congregated, and where he no sooner arrived than he threw his hat in the air, crying out, "Hurrah, boys! I'm going to New York!" In a moment he was overwhelmed with a hundred questions, a some of which he answered, but most of which he could not, and he became an object of greater interest than ever. The boys who had come from the city made him the bearer of all sorts of messages to their friends, relations and companions. One wanted him to call upon his mother, who lived in Cox's Alley, in Orange-street, and tell her to send him up a knife, a pipe, and some- tobacco. Another requested him, if he met one "Jemmy Rielly," to lick him for him. "And say, Harry," exclaimed a hungry-looking youth who had been sent to the Island to cure him of a propensity for appropri- ating. everything good to eat he could lay his hands on, i" if ever you come across a feller wot they call 'Shorty Blake,' make him take you to de old woman on de corner of Bayard-street and de Bowery. She sells de biggest bolivars for a cent in town. i They're as big round as your hat!" Another gave him the directions for the best coffee and cake shops, and still another volunteered to instruct him in all the mysteries of "( grubbing " for checks in front of the theatres. Harry listened to all this, and much more, like a boy in a dream. But one thought was uppermost in his mind. He was going to leave the Island, to go to New York, to see what he had so longed to see, and to be one of the crowd that made that mys- terious " hum " which he had so often listened to with such im- patient longing. All day he was in a great state of excitement, so that he could hardly restrain himself from hurrahing even in school, where he OUT OF THE STREETS. 101 * -got through his lessons as best he might, not thinking of them at all! Just before the school was dismissed for the day one of his H2i more intimate companions, and the most ardent admirer of his oratorical abilities, holding up his hand for permission, asked the ' teacher to let "Harry Wright speak 'The boy stood on the burn- ing deck'; because," the boy urged, " he's a-going away to-mor- row, and we shan't hear him speak it no more." This proposition was received with a tremendous showing of :g hands, in all stages of dirtiness, and loud acclamations of "Oh, yes!" "Do." "Please to let him speak!" i Permission being granted, Harry " spoke" that much-abused and shamefully maltreated narrative of the heroic boy who would rather die than disobey his father, in his best style, and followed it--being universally and enthusiastically encored--with, "When Freedom from her mountain heights," which created so great a Fii sensation that the boys refused to be satisfied until he had spoken "Rolla's address to his army," which he had committed to memory since he had heard of Hamblin and the Bowery, and so addressed his admiring schoolmates as his '" brave companions, partners of his toils, his feelings, and his fame." page: 102-103[View Page 102-103] 102 OUT OF THE. STREETS. CHAPTER XIV. THE LADY IN BLACK. "Will you walk into my parlor Said a spider to a fly." WHEN Harry had finished and made his bow, previous to leav- ing the platform, which was to be the scene of his triumphs no : more, his teacher shook hands with him, gave him much good advice, and bade him good-by in so kind a manner that Harry's eyes filled with tears, and when he found himself outside of the school-room and heard the "three cheers 9 which were proposed -for him and given with a will, the teacher leading them himself, his great excitement and overtasked sensibilities found vent in a flood of tears. 'I And what wonder? He had Inever known a mother's love, a father's care. He had known no home save this, where his young life had passed happily away, and where he had experienced naught but kindness, so that his guardians and teachers, who had extended this kindness to him, filled the place in his heart ! of those dearer relations, and his young associates and more inti- mate companions were to him as brothers. - ! In the first excitement which[ the announcement of his depar- ture for New York had created, these feelings had been for a time forgotten, but now, when he realized that in going away he was parting from all who had ever loved him, or whom he had ever loved, regret took the place of joy, and he wept upon the shoulder of his little chum, as if his heart would break. The boys stood about him, silent witnesses of his emotion, many, however, sharing it, as was evinced by their tearful eyes and frequent applications of their jacket-cuffs to their cheeks and noses. ili'I OUT OF THE STREETS. 103 Do not cry, Harry," said the kind teacher to him, patting him gently on the shoulder. "Don't cry, my little man! It is best you should go away. You could not stay here forever. You will be a man some day, and you must go into the great world to learn the duties of one. Besides, you are not going to be sent far away to the West, as most of the boys are, and where we should never see you again; you are only going to the city, and you can come and visit your old playfellows and teachers, who will always be glad to see you and learn how you are getting on. So cheer up! Pshaw, you will forget us in a week!" "No, I won't, Mr. Lamb,': Harry said earnestly, looking up through his tears; "I won't forget you, or how kind and good you have been to me. I suppose it's best I should go away. I know it is, for I don't want to stop here to learn to make shoes; but I'm not ungrateful for all you have done to make me happy, and I can't help crying when I think of leaving you and the boys. But there, I won't cry any more," he said, manfully, wip- ing his eyes with his hands "That's right!" exclaimed the teacher, clapping him on the back. "That's right! Now go and play for an hour, and then it will be time for supper.' "Hurrah!" shouted the boys, catching hold of Harry, and dragging him away with them--" hurrah! Let's play ball," and the game was soon going on, with all its noisy accompaniments. About an hour after Harry had received the information that he was to leave the Island on the following day, a lady called at the office of the superintendent and requested an interview with that gentleman. He was accordingly summoned, and on entering-the room he found a tall, handsome woman, dressed in black, and with an air. of marked elegance and respectability about her. She wore a black-lace veil over her face, so that none of her features but her large, lustrous, dark eyes, which shone through the filmy fabric with undiminished brightness, were distinctly visible. She rose as the the superintendent entered the room, saying: "I hope you will pardon me, sir, if my visit calls you away from more important duties, but I expect to leave the city in a few days, and, therefore, was obliged to avail myself of an. oppor- page: 104-105[View Page 104-105] 104 OUT OF THE STREETS. tunity of coming to see you to-day, though I am aware to-mor- row is the regular day for visitors. I have called to make some in- quiries concerning a boy named Henry Wright." ' Be seated, madame," said the superintendent. "I am at all times happy to see any one who comes on business concerning any of the boys!" "Thank you," the lady answered, taking the proffered chair. "You-have a boy of that name here?" " "There is a boy of that name in our charge at the present A time." Y ' ; "He has been here for some years, I believe." "Since his infancy. We received him from the Foundling Nursery on Blackwell's Island. Do you know anything concern- ing him or his relatives or friends, if he has or ever had any, I madame?" - X "No," the lady replied, " but the painful circumstances under which his mother died-she was picked up in a dying condition i in the streets and taken to the City Prison, where she expired shortly after the birth of the child-came to my knowledge and excited my sympathies at the time very much. In fact, I had ? resolved then to adopt the little orphan, but was prevented by my unexpected departure for Europe, where I have been living nearly ever since. On my return, a short time ago, I caused in- quiries to be made concerning the child, and traced him to Ran- . dall's Island. I am glad to find that he is still here." "He is still here, as I have said, but he leaves us to-morrow." "Indeed! Why does he go?"' i "A person who, like yourself, has evinced much interest in the lad, has offered to give him a home, and we have consented that . ho should do so." "I regret to hear it," the lady answered, " for I came with the object of making the same proposition, if I found the child to be such as I hoped to find him in appearance and disposition." "He is a fine, handsome, manly little fellow," the superinten- dent answered, " and a great favorite with us all." ( I should be much pleased if it is within your power to allow me to carry out my intentions toward him. I have lately lost my husband, and having no children, I feel the lack of some one upon whom I could lavish the love and kindness which I should OUT OF THE STREETS. 105 have bestowed upon my own child, had it pleased H eaven to send me such a blessing. My means are ample, and, with the educa- tion and training I should be able to give him, his future would be assured.1" "I regret very much, madame, that you have not applied earlier, though even in that case, I am not sure that we should have been able to meet, your views concerning the lad, for the person to whose care we are about to confine him has shown so much in- terest in him for so long-ever since he has been with us, in fact --that it has for a long time been tacitly understood that at the proper time he should be apprenticed to him, and as the arrange- ment has been finally completed, and the requisite obligations have been entered into by him, and accepted by the Commission- ers, of course we cannot change our plans in regard to him; and lie will be sent to the city, to enter upon his new life, in the morning. The lady tapped the floor nervously with one of her feet, and biting her lip, seemed to consider for a moment, and then asked: "May I see the child?" "I shall be most happy to gratify you, madame, as far at that is concerned. It is now the hour of recess, and he is, most likely, upon the play-ground. If you will take the trouble to walk a short distance I will point him out to you," the superintendent answered, rising and leading the way out of the room onto the lawn in front of the office. A rough-looking man, in course garb, was standing outside near the office, betwixt whom and the lady a short, quick, but meaning glance was exchanged, unobserved by the superintenl- dent. "What do you wish?"asked the superintendent of the man. "Why are you waiting here?" "This person," said the lady, quickly, not giving the man an opportunity of replying, " is the person who brought me here. I took a boat from the other side. I hope I have not rendered myself liable to the charge of having violated a rule by doing so." "The kind object you had in coming here, madame, would ex- cuse it, if you had!" the superintendent replied. "This way, if you please!" page: 106-107[View Page 106-107] 106 OUT OF THE STREETS. , The lady exchnanged another rapid glance with the man, and secretly beckoned to him with her hand to follow her, as they proceeded in the direction indicated by the superintendent, while the man obeyed the sign she had given him, and followed a few paces in the rear. "That is the boy," said the superintendent, pointing to Harry, who was running toward them in pursuit of a ball, which, in the course of the game, had been sent in their direction. The ball rolled close to where they were standing, so that : Harry was obliged to come quite near. He picked up the ball and threw it back. "Wait a moment, Harry," said the superintendent, as Harry started to return. "I wish to speak to you." Harry approached the superintendent, and took off his hat. "I Have you informed your teacher that you are going away?" , "Yes, sir, I have, and I've told all the boys!" "And they are sorry to part with you, I dare say?" "I don't know about tha;t, sir," Harry replied, "but a good many of 'em wish they were going with me!" "Why, you all seem to be very happy, here," said the lady. You are happy, are you not?" "Oh, yes, ma'am," the boy answered, gazing, at the lady ad- miringly with his large, bright eyes, and looking very handsome, with his sunburnt cheeks all aglow, his mouth partly open, show- ing his small, white teeth, and his hair falling in short, thick curls over his forehead. "We are very happy, but all the boys want to go to New York." "' What is your name?" asked the lady. ( Harry Wright, ma'am." "{ And you are going to New York to-morrow, I hear " "Yes, ma'am." "t will be a great change for you, but I suppose it will be an agreeable ohe. Do you think you will like the city better than this place?" ("Oh, yes, ma'am, I am sure I shall!" a Well, I hope you will be as happy as you expect to be. Here is something for you to begin your new life with," said the lady, taking a couple of half-dollars from her purse and placing them in Harry's hand. OUT OF THE STREETS. 107 "Oh, thank you, ma'am-are these for me?" s1E ",For you! ) Harry put the coins in his pocket joyfully, and looked wist- fully towards his companions, as if he wished to be off to tell them of his good fortune. "You may go now," said the superintendent. "Thank you sir! Thank you ma'am!!"Harry exclaimed, mak- ing a bow, and then putting on his hat, ran away, shouting, to join his playmates! "A fine, handsome, frank little fellow!" said the lady. "I am more sorry than ever, now that I have seen him, that I can- not dogs I wished. I had set my heart upon the purpose. I am much obliged to you, however, sir, and will take my leave. Per- haps you would inform me of the name of the person with whom the boy will be placed?" "The person's name is Pivot, madame. Mr. Peter Pivot. He is rather well-known in New York. Perhaps you have heard of him?" The lady's face, had it not been hidden by her veil, would have exhibited an expression of surprise as she heard the name, but she replied: "No, I have never heard of him; but then, I have been away fron New York so long!" Shaking honds with the superintendent, she again thanked him for his attention, and went towards the steps where the boat lay, followed by the man. Not a word was spoken until the boat had reached nearly mid- way of the river, when the lady said to the man who was rowing the boat: "You saw him. Would you know him again?". "I could pick him out from among ten thousand," the man answered. "I know this man with wliom he is going!" the woman said, after a pause. "Then you can keep your eyes upon him, and mind you do it! It's just as well as though you had him, and better too!" . "No," she answered. "This man Pivot shall not have him. It does not suit my plan!" "What do you mean?" page: 108-109[View Page 108-109] 108 OUT OF THE STREETS. "I mean," she answered, "that to-morrow he shallbe in my hands. He is too valuable to be trusted to anybody else." s All right!" answered the man. "Just as you say! I leave the game in your hands, and if you don't play your cards for all they are worth, why, you ain't the gal I take you for!" By this time the boat had reached the New York side, where they landed at the Hell Gate Ferry, and where a carriage was waiting for them, in which the woman seated herself, while Dick Watkins, for it was he, mounted the box beside the driver, and lighting his cigar, puffed away in deep meditation. OUT OF THE STREETS. 109 CHAPTER XV. L OST. !' Oh how this spring of life resembleth The uncertain glory of an April day, Which now shows all the beauty of the sun, And by and by, a cloud takes all away!"-SHAKESPEARE. YOUNG Harry's sleep that night was anything but sound. The wildest visions flitted before his excited imagination, in which the strange woman in black, who had spoken to him on the play- ground, often had a- prominent part. Now he was with Peter Pivot, surrounded by coffins of all sizes, and of fantastic shapes, into one of which the strange lady forced him, and pressed the lid firmly down upon his face until he lay in utter darkness, without the power of speech or motion, when suddenly the lid flew off, and the good-natured face of Peter Pivot beamed upon him, and he rose up to see the strange woman going out of the window, saying, as she looked back over her shoulder: "Another time! ' Again he was in a place he fancicd to be a theatre, and here the strange woman figured also by suddenly appearing at his side, seizing him by the arm, and rushing away with him, crying out, "Who moves one step to follow me, dies!" which frightened him so that he woke with a start, looked wildly about him, expect- ing to see the strange woman standing by his bed. When he slept again, he fancied himself in the great city, at night. There was a glare in the sky, and the deep booming of a bell rang through his ears. He heard a loud, roaring noise, and looking up, he thought he saw an enormous monster, with great flapping wings, and eyes from which streamed long jets of blood-red flame as it flew along, drawn by a crowd of horrid demons, who yelled and screamed, "Big Six! Big Six! ' page: 110-111[View Page 110-111] "O OUT OF THE STREETS. t As he stood transfixed by this startling sight, the demon who seemed to lead the throng suddenly turned toward him, dragging the monster after him, with its big glowing eyes glaring upon ^ him, and burning him with their red, hot rays. A thousand hideous noises filled his ears, among which the din of bells was ever uppermost. He tried to run away, but his limbs refused to answer to his will, and he stood petrified with fear as the terrible winged mon- ' ster came rushing down upon him, and was just about to crush j him beneath its ponderous wheels, when he awoke, bathed in perspiration, to find one of the matrons standing by his side, with his new clothes upon her arm, and the bell of the dormitory ringing loudly to wake the sleeping boys. ! "Oh my! is that you!" Harry exclaimed, sitting up straight in his bed, and gazing at the startled matron with widely opened ! eyes. "To be- sure it is me. Is there anything so terrible in my ap- X pearance that you should stare so? You have been dreaming, haven't you?" the matron asked. a "Yes, ma'am. Oh, such things as I thought I saw! Coffins, and a woman with wings, and Big Six I That had wings too! I' thought I was in New York!" "The idea of going there has turned your head, I suppose," said the matron, putting the clothes on the foot of Harry's bed. "(You are just like all the rest of them, all crazy to get away to the city. But get up and dress yourself, for the boat goes at ten o'clock, and it is six now. When your are gone there will be one trouble less, till some other young scrapegrace takes your place., One goes, another comes; that's the way here?" " tIave I been much trouble to you, Mrs. Wheelan?" asked the j boy, with a sorrowful face. "I didn't mean to be." ( You're ill a trouble, ain't you?" asked the woman, a little snappishly, looking around the room at the score or more of little beds. "( Ain't you always a-wearing holes in your trousers, and kicking out your socks and your shoes, and daubing your jackets with molasses and grease, and getting your shins barked and your fingers cut? And ain't you always, all of you, a-picking up everything-strings, rusty nails, stones, pieces o' chalk, clam- shells, bits o' glass, and orange parings, and goodness knows what OUT OF TH STREETS. 1" all, and craramin' of 'em into your pockets, and wearing of 'em out? Didn't I find two sour apples, a dead fish, a live mouse, and a dried eelskinl in -Baddles's pocket the other day, to say nothing of two fish-hooks, which mioght have done him a mischief, and a big piece of bread, which he had taken fromt the supper- table to eat after he got to bed? You know I did, you wicked boy," she said, more emphatically, and addressing herself to the discomforted Baddles, who was trying to insert his legs into his pantaloons, but being not yet fully awake, found it difficult of accomplishment, owing to the fact that he was holding them upsidedown, and had his sleepy eyes fixed on the matron. "You are all a set of good-for-nothings, and I'm glad when I get rid of you! ') Harry sat looking at the matron, as she went on multiplying the counts in the indictment she drew up against her young charges, with astonishment, for he loved Mrs.- Wheelan, who had always displayed a motherly care for him, and when she declared that she would be glad to get rid of him, his eyes filled with tears, and he said: "t Then I am glad I am going, and I hope you will like the boy who takes my bed better than you do me!" "That I shan't,"'- Mrs. Wheelan replied, sitting on the little bed, catching Harry in her arms and pressing him to her bosom --"that I shan't! I shall hate him; for when you go away I shall lose the best of the bunch, and I am only cross because you are going to leave me; for, next to my own poor dead and gone darling, whose age you are, I love you best of all!" and the good woman bent down and kissed him, while big tears rolled over her fat, red c heeks. "There, now get up and dress yourself in these fine clothes, and be sure to come -and bid me good-by, in my own room, before you go away for good and all." The matron left the room with her clean check apron to her eyes, and Harry, brushing the tears away from his, jumped out of bed and into his new clothes with all the haste he could. ^When the time for parting came, the little fellow felt a deep regret at leaving his playmates and all the associations of the Only home he had ever known. Going to New York did not seem half so jolly as it did, and as he went across the play-ground where he had passed so many page: 112-113[View Page 112-113] "2 OUT OF'THE STREETS. happy hours, his young heart throbbed with grief, as he thought he should never play there any more. His appearance on the play-ground was a signal for a suspen- sion of the game the shouting urchins were engaged in, and they flocked around him with loud exclamations. His time was growing very short, the steamboat was already at the dock, so drawing his most intimate companions on one side, he gave to each of them some souvenir, and bidding them good-by, he ran off in the direction of the superintendent's office, followed by the cheers and shouts of all the boys, and at the ap- pointed time, after having said farewell to everybody, in charge of one of the officers of the institution, he went on board of the little steamer which was to convey him to New York. It was a beautiful, bright morning. A soft summer wind broke the river into a myriad gentle ripples, each one of which reflected back the glowing sunshine in a thousand bright, prismatic hues. The flags with which the little steamer was gayly decorated waved lazily; the birds among the branches of the trees upon the shore sang their merriest songs, and the gulls circled about high in air, screaming and shrieking as if in exultation of their freedom and their joy. Looking to the east, the river stretched far away to the Sound, between wood-embowered shores, dotted here and there with pretty, emerald islands, and enlivened by hundreds of sails, show- ing bright and silvery in the sunlight, or dark and sombre in the shadow. Harry only gave the lovely scene a passing glance, and turned his gaze in the opposite direction, toward the city, the towers and spires of which were plainly visible to his eye, while that same old mysterious hum, to which he had so often listened, fell like music on his ear, and in the thought that he should soon be there, all his sadness vanished, and when the bell rang out the warning- to be off, and the planks were pulled in, the wheels began to go round, and the steamboat slowly left the wharf, he could scarcely refrain from shouting out his joy and delight! As they neared the city, his excitement increased. First, from the deck, he cpuld descry houses scattered here and there, with trees and cultivated fields between. Then villas, with their green OUT OF THE STREETS. 113 lawns sloping down to the waters edge, shut out the view, and he began to think the city would never come in sight. But presently the. villas disappeared, and the houses became more densely congregated; he began to make out long rows of houses, and streets stretching far away, with carts and wagons rattling over them. Anon the. wharves and shipping came into sight, the tall slim masts and spars looking like the trees in some dead forest from which the branches had been swept away; a d so the scene kept on varying every moiment, giving him a better idea of the magnitude and grandeur of the city, until at last the bell rang again, the wheels revolved more slowly, and the boat gently rounded to, and drew up beside the wharf at Fulton Mar- ket Slip. Harry was down on the lower deck long before the moorings were made fast, and would have been ashore the moment the gang-plank had been run out, had his impatience not been re- strained by the officer who had him in charge, and who held him by the hand and kept him back. "There's Mr. Pivot! that's him!" exclaimed the excited boy, pointing to a short, bald-headed man, who stood at the end of the wharf, peering down into the boat, hat in hand, and sopping the perspiration f'om his shining pate, with a blue silk handker- chief with white spots in it, and who was no-other than the kind- hearted undertaker, to whose charge our young friend was to. be ' consigned.' ; By his side stood a tall man, with a thin face, and gray hair and whiskers. He was dressed in an ill-fitting suit of homespun, and wore a tall, bell-crowned hat, of a style which had been fashionable a quarter of a century before. This person was no other than Mr. Abner Snaggs, from South lMitchim, betwixt whom and Pivot the most friendly relations had existed ever since the night they had first met in the snug hostelry of Bob Sinclair, mine host of the "Woodcock," and who having come to the city with. the hardy mariner, Captain Bunce, of the sloop Two narriets, for the purpose of doing some little "dickering," had called upon the undertaker, and being informed of his intentions in regard to the orphan boy, had volunteered to assist at the reception. !. page: 114-115[View Page 114-115] "4 OUT OF THE STBREETS. '"I don't see 'im!" said Peter. ," But he must be there surely. My gracious, it's very 'ot, and I'm in- such a prespiration! "Say, yeou, ain't that him, standing there alongside the stove- pipe, with a man a' holt of his hand? It mought be! cried Mr. Snaggs, with a strong nasal twang to his voice. a Yes!" exclaimed Peter, looking in the direction indicated. "That's 'im! T e's spied us already, and is grinning like a Ches- hire cat. Ah, the young rascal! I s'pose he thinks I've got h'oranges and lollipops in my pocket. 'Ow h'ar you, my man '. he holloaed out, and running half way down the gang-plank to meet the lad--" 'ow h'ar you? Come along! Give us your 'and! That's right. 'Ere we h'ar safe and sound, and how do you do?" "I am very well, sir." "To be sure you are. No need of asking that. You look as though you would cost more for the butcher than the doctor. Ha! ha! How do you do, sir? You are the h'officer, I suppose?" "Yes, sir. Harry is in my charge; so suppose we go to the Commissioner's office at once, where you can sign the indentures, and then the matter is settled." "All right. Come along, my boy!" exclaimed Peter, seizing Harry's hand and almost dragging him off his feet in his impa- tience. "This is Mr. Snaggs, an old friend of yours, though I don't suppose you remember him, as you were only a babby when you saw him last, and your powers of deception were, to say the least, rather limited. I mean you were so young you didn't even notice, as the nusses say. But he knows you well enough." !"Yes, and I knew your mother afore I knowed you," Mr. Snaggs added, patting Harry on the head. tM y mother!" said the boy, looking up with a sad expression into Mr. Snaggs's wrinkled face. "Iid you know my mother?" - "s We'll talk about that some other time," Peter broke in, nudg- ing Snaggs in the side with his elbow, and shaking his head at him n ag" th timed him in a mysterious manner. Another time! By this they had arrived at the market, and were in the midst of the throng of people, hurrying hither and thither, andjoistling and pushing, as they made their way along. Harry's- eyes danced about inall directions at once, but rested for a moment, longingly, upon the fruit-stands, which stood in rows upon the sidewalk, and whose tempting display of apples, EI OUT OF THE STREETS. 115 oranges, nuts, and luscious-looking fruits, even the names of which he did not know, made his mouth water. His longing looks did not escape the observation of the watch- ful Peter, who stopped at once before a stall, saying: "Which shall it be-a Ih'apple or a h'orange? Ah, I see, both, and some nuts as well, in your pockets, the h'apple in one 'and, the h'orange in the h'other. There-now we are all right again. Come along," and they again proceeded up Fulton-street. When they arrived at the United States Hotel Mr. Snaggs asked them to wait a minute while he went to see Captain Bunco, of the sloop Two Harriets, who was lodging there, in order to as- certain from that old salt at what time he would clear for South Mitchim. Neither Peter nor the officer objected, but on the contrary, Peter suggested that, as it was very " 'ot," perhaps it would be as well to go in and have a glass of punch to cool them off. This proposition not meeting with any opposition either, they all entered the hotel, where, after telling Harry to take a seat near the window in the office, the three men made their way to that part of the establishment where punch and other cooling or heating beverages were dispensed, leaving the boy alone. Harry found plenty of amusement in staring about him-first at the pictures with which the apartment was profusely decorated, and then into the street, where never-ending streams of people were continually passing. All at once his ear caught the sound of music, and looking down the street toward the river, he discovered a troop of soldiers, with colors flying and drums beating, coming directly toward the place where he was. He was all excitement in a moment, and watched them ap- proach with breathless interest. The gay uniforms, the glisten- ing bayonets, the waving flags, and the stirring, martial music, all impressed him, as he had never been impressed before, and he clapped his hands and fairly danced with delight. The soldiers came directly up Fulton-streot, and as the band passed the corner and were lost to his sight, the boy could not resist the impulse to run to the door in order to keep them in view. He stood gazing at them until the last platoon had passed be- page: 116-117[View Page 116-117] "6 OUT OF THE STREETS yond the angle of the building and out of the range of his vision, when, the temptation being greater than he could resist, he ran to the corner, where he again caught sight of them. Pausing a moment to look after them, he saw that they were fast disappearing in the distance, and without stopping to think of the consequence, he started off on a full run after them, not checking his steps until he had arrived opposite the band. Completely absorbed in the novelty of the scene, the beating of his heart and the tread of his feet keeping time to the music, he followed them on past the corner of the street, and into Broad- way. Here the throng became denser, and Harry was carried along by it, not noticing where he went, nor once stopping to think of what he was doing. The company of soldiers turned down one of the cross streets toward the North River, passed through a gate, and went on board of a ferry-boat, whither Harry would also have followed them had he not been, just in the act of doing so, rudely seized by the shoulder and pulled back by one of the ferry hands, who told him to wait for the next boat. As soon as the soldiers had passed on board, the gates were closed, and Harry, with a crowd of urchins of his own age, in all stages of dickydoutism, were left, like so many dilapidated Peris at the gates of Paradise, gazing after the boat, which soon left- the slip, carrying the soldiers out of sight. As the boat disappeared from view, Harry turned away from the gate and looked about him. OUT OF THE STREETS. " CHAPTER XVI. FOUND So tedious is this day As is the night before some festival To an impatient child that hath new robes And may not wear them."---SHAKESPEAR WHERE he was, of course he did not know, and he was equally at fault as to the route by which he had arrived at the place where he found himself. Then he began to reflct upon the folly of his act, and wondered which way he should turn to reach the place he had left, for he had been, so blind to everything but the soldiers, that he had taken no notice of the houses or signs, or anything which might have guided him back. He was entirely lost. As he stood frightened and perplexed, puzzling his brain ih rying to discover some clue to the path he ought toake, a rough-looking man came up to him, and addressing him, said: "I say, young 'un, ain't you out of your latitude?" Harry looked at the man for a moment as if puzzled to know "Yes. Do you know me?" "I've seen you before. I saw you when you came off the boat frow the Island, and when I seed you a-follering the soldiers, I thought you'd get lost, and so I kept my eye on you, and came after you."* Then you know where it was that I left Mr. Pivot, don't you? Please to take me back to him. I was never in New York before, and rm losft."i "Yes; you have been lost for a long time," the man replied; frorr: the Island, and whes I seed you a-follering thB soldiers, I ,t;o'gtlsnsletr aloyotanom page: 118-119[View Page 118-119] S118 OUT OF THE STREETS. "but I've found you, and I'll take precious good care of you, now that I have." Will you take me back to Mr. Pivot? He will be very angry when he finds I have gone away." ( To be sure he will; and will most likely give you a good lick- ing. But come along with me. I'll take you where you will be well looked after." So saying, he grasped the boy by the hand and led him up Barclay-street. Harry went along with him unresistingly, and drinking in with greedy eyes, all the strange sights that met his gaze, until they came to St. Peter's church, in front of which a carriage was stand- ing. Here the man paused, and after looking around him, quickly, as if to be sure that no one was watching him, he went up to the side of the carriage and opened the door. A lady sat in one corner of the vehicle, with her veil down over her face, whom, as soon as he saw her eyes, Harry recognized as 'the same lady who had spoken to him so kindly the day before on the play-ground. "You remember me, I see, Harry," said the lady, perceiving the astonished look of the boy. "I hope you are glad to see me again." "Oh, yes, ma'am," Harry replied; "but, if you please, I must inot stop to talk to you now, for I am going to find Mr. Pivot. I followed the soldiers and got lost." "Yes, yes; I know all about it, and Mr. Pivot will be very angry with you. He is a very hard, cruel man, and threatened to do all sorts of things to you for going away and leaving him. lie says he won't have anything more to do with you, but that when he finds you he will whip you first, and then send you back to the Island, from where you will be sent out West, and never see New York again." "Did he say so?" the boy asked. "Yes. He and the officer who came down with you are look- ing for you now, and if they find you, will take you back to the Island at once." "But I don't want to go back to'the Island. I want to stay in New York. I like it better than the Island." OUT Or THE STREETS. *1 "9 "I thought so," the lady answered, " and that is why I sent this man to find you, for I was passing the hotel when you left it to follow the soldiers; so, now, if you will get into this nice coach with me, I'll take you where Mr. Pivot will never find you, and where you shall live in a fine house, have nice clothes, and every. thing good to eat and drink. Will you go with me?" "Will he go? To be sure he will," said the man. I see Pivot coming round the corner now, and the officer with him, with a cowhide in his hand. So be quick! In with you, or they'll catch you and welt the hide off of you," and without giving the boy any chance to reply, he lifted him bodily into the coach, shut the door, jumped on the box beside the driver, and before Harry had time to assent or expostulate at the sudden disposition thus made of him, they were rolling at a rapid pace up Broadway. "Where are we going?"Harry asked, after a pause. "You are going to my house," replied Mrs. Bolton, whom the reader has already recognized, "where you will live with me." "Are you a coffinmaker, like Mr. Pivot? ' "A cofinmaker? Certainly not. I am a lady, and don'tmake anything." "Then what do you want me to learn to make? Not shoes?" Mrs. Bolton laughed, saying: "No, no! I do not intend to make a shoemaker of you; I want you to live with me, go to school, and learn to be a gentleman! 0 I-ow this was to be accomplished puzzled the lad very much, but it seemed better than being whipped and sent to the Island again; and the lady did not allow him to reflect long on the sub- ject, but commenced pointing out every curious thing they passed, and so engaged his attention that he soon forgot all about Mr. Pivot, the officer,' and everything else but the pleasure of rid- ing in a coach, the very novelty of which was perfectly charming to him, and the ever-changing scene which passed before his eyes. The carriage continued on the whole length of Broadway, be- yond Union Square, and past the old House of Refuge, which stood in Madison Park, opposite to where the Fifth Avenue Hotel now stands. A short distance beyond this, the carriage turned off from the broad thoroughfare into a side street, in which there were very few houses, and those not presenting a very attractive aippearance. page: 120-121[View Page 120-121] 120 OUT OF THE STREETS. They continued in this direction until they came to a large frame house, which stood on a slight elevation, but a short dis- tance from the river, and here the carriage stopped. ", This is where I live," said the lady, "and here is where we are going to stop." rBut this isn't New York,)"Harry objected. "This is the country. I don't want to live in the country 1i "Getinto the house and argue the matter afterward," said the man, who had dismounted from the box and stood by the side of the coach, holding the door open. "Come, young 'un, I'll take care of you.!" And with these words he lifted Harry out, and carrying him in his arms, took him through the gate and up the steps, into the house, the door of which was opened by a negro woman, who welcomed them with a grin which displayed her large white teeth nearly from ear to ear. Mrs. Bolton came immediately after them; the door was shut, and the carriage drove rapidly away. Dick Watkins put the boy down, and, opening the door of the front room, pushed, rather than led him in, followed by Mrs. Bolton, who closed the door after her. "Now, young 'un," the man began, taking his place, a' a la eval, upon a chair, and shaking his forefinger under Harry's nose, "I want you to make yourself at home, because this will be your home for many a day to come, and as long as you behave yourself and obey orders, there won't no harm come to you. But it has cost a precious sight o' trouble to get you, and now we have got you, we don't intend to lose you. So, mind your eye! Do as you are told, ask no questions, and never go out in the street unless that lady, who you will always call mother, goes with you, or else I do myself, and you'll get along. Only don't try no dodges." There was something so repulsive, and at the same time so threatening, in the man's words and manner, that the boy, plucky fellow as he was, shrunk back and turned toward the woman with a frightened look. Mrs. Bolton caught him by the hand and drew him beside her on the sofa, where she was sitting, saying to the man: "Why do you frighten the boy in that way?" "Because I want him to start fair, and learn at once that there OUT OF TIIE STREETS 121 ai:;t to be no nonsense," Dick answered, in a surly tone. "You know the walue-" "There will be no necessity of an understanding, or misunder- standing, either, until the time comes, and I won't have the child browheaten or abused. Don't be frightened,"' she continued, turning to Harry and patting him on the shoulder; "this man has a rough way with him, but he means no harm. We are your friends-your best friends-and if you mind me and do as I tell you, you will be able some day to live in New York like a gen- tleman, and have fine clothes and drive nice horses. If not, why, we shall be obliged to give you up to Mr. Pivot, who will send you back to the Island."' This speech, softly as it was spoken, did not have a very sooth- ing effect upon the boy, who instinctively hated the man and had a mysterious dread of the woman, whose bright eyes, as she addressed him, seemed to look him through and through; so he replied, his courage somewhat restored: "I don't believe Mr. Pivot would whip me, 'cause he has always been good to me, and never got mad, not even when I laughed at him. Besides, I didn't mean to run away from him. The soldiers made me forget everything, and if I could see him and tell him all about it, he would believe me and forgive me, and let me live with him. I know he would." Dick was about to give a very emphatic answer to this speech, but Mrs. Bolton checked him with a look, and turning to the boy, said: "As for your going back to Mr. Pivot at present, that is im- possible. You must remain here with me; for, as I told you, I am yoYi best friend, and know what is most -for your good. If you go to Mr. Pivot's, he will make you work-work among cof- fins and dead people. Only think of it! You will be a drudge and a slave. You will wear poor clothes, and will never be al- lowed to go anywhere or see anything that you want to see; will be whipped when you are idle, and never have any money. If you stay with me, everything will be different. You will not have to work, you will. see everything, and go everywhere with me." "Will you take me to the theayter to see Tom Hamblin, and let me go to the fires with Big Six?"Harry asked, excitedly. page: 122-123[View Page 122-123] 122 OUT OF THE STREETS. V"To the theatre! Yes,"' she replied. "To be sure; we will go often. But as for Big Six, what is that?" ("A big ingine, that the boys up to the Island told me of, that is the first at all fires, and washes everything that rolls," Harry re- plied, his eyes sparkling with excitement. : Oh, yes, to be sure! Mrs. Bolton answered, smiling. "To be sure, you shall see Big Six, too; only stay here, mind me, and you shall go to a fire and see Big Six." This settled the business; and though there was a strong feeling yet in the boy's mind that he ought to go back to Peter Pivot, the thought of going to the theatre and seeing that wonderful paragon of fire-engines took the place of everything else, and he resigned himself to remain where he was. Besides, the prospect of working among coffins and dead people did not present any very strong attractions to his mind, and. Mr. Pivot might send him baok to the Island, after all, and these people would not, that'was very clear. These considerations fixing him in his pur- pose more strongly, he told Mrs. Bolton that he would stay where he was and do all she told him, on condition that she should keep her promise concerning the s" theayter " and "Big Six." This understanding being had, Mr. Richard Watkins left the room, beckoning his sister after him, and held m whispered con- versation with her in the hall, after which he left the house, leaving Mrs. Bolton to return to Harry, which she did. immedi- ately after, and told him she would show him the house and where he was to sleep. X The room in which Harry was then had appeared to him the most beautiful place he had ever been in, but when Mrs. Bolton took him up-stairs and showed him her own apartment, he was perfectly carried away by the elegance and luxury with which it was furnished. The carpets seemed to him to be too beautiful to tread upon. The chairs, covered with blue satin, were beyond anything of the kind he had ever dreamed of. The pictures were full of fas- cination, and the bed-well, he could scarcely believe that such C magnificent thing as that was or could ever have been made to sleep in, and he gazed at it with a sort of reverential awe. Everywhere the most beautiful and delicately formed and curi- ous objects met his eye, and he went from one to the other, giv- OUT OF THE STREETS. 123 ing vent to his admiration in loud exclamations of delight and wonder. After he had in a measure satisfied his curiosity here, Mrs. Bol- ton led him into another and smaller room on the floor above. This was to be his. It would not compare with the apartment he had just left, but it was beyond anything he had ever thought of for himself. The bed was small, and covered with a nice white counterpane; the pillows were large and soft, and even in its simplicity it offered a strong contrast to the iron frame, the hard husk mattress, and the coarse brown sheets he had been used to on the Island. The floor was carpeted too, and there was a small bureau and looking- glass, and some gayly colored prints hung upon the walls,-which were perfect masterpieces of art in his inexperienced eyes, so that he was quite as much charmed with his own room, being so much better and finer than he had ever seen before, as he was with the more elegant and luxurious apartment he had just left. Leaving him to the further inspection of the premises, and with directions to wash his face and hands, and then come down to her, Mrs. Bolton left him alone, and Harry sat down on the side of the bed and gave himself up to the thorough enjoyment of the great and sudden change which had come over him since yester- day. After he had begun to a certain and very limited extent to realize where he was, and all that had happened, he proceeded to wash himself, and then opening the window, he looked out. Before him, and not far off, glimpses of the Hudson River, upon which steamboats and all manner of sailing craft were moving up and down, could be seen through the thick branches of a tree which rose up close beside the window, a scene that he had been used to all his life, and which, therefore, did not possess the charm of novelty. But to the left hand, there he could see the City, with its compact blocks of houses, its tall spires, its towering chim- neys, and -from the midst of them the old familiar, mysterious "hum," now deepened into a roar, fell upon his ear. He was in the great city at last, he was to see it all, she had promised that, and he was satisfied. If Harry was pleased with the splendor of the rooms, he was. page: 124-125[View Page 124-125] 124 OUT OF THE STREETS. no less so with the bounty and richness of the repast to which he sat, in company with Mrs. Bolton, as soon as he made his appear- ance down-stairs; and though he made rather awkward work with his knife and silver fork, not being used to them, and displayed anything but the manners and breeding of a Chesterfield at the table, Mrs. Bolton's reproofs and instructions had not the least effect upon his appetite, before which the various dishes soon rapidly diminished. After dinner Mrs. Bolton, or, as Harry was taught to call her, Mrs. Stevenson, went out, leaving him at home, with strict in- junctions not to leave the house, on any consideration, until her return, so that whe had no companion but his own thoughts and the negro woman Rose. He passed the afternoon in looking again through the apart- nlents, and admiring everything over and over, until it was dark, and then he began to be anxious for Mrs. Stevenson's return, for he expected, of course, that she would keep her word, and take him to the theatre that very night. At last he ventured into the kitchen to inquire of the sable Rose when her mistress would return. rL "Why, Lor' bress you, honey, how should I know?" was the answer. "Maybe she will come back to tea, and maybe she won't. Can't tell nothing about her! She's too much for dis nigger, she is, suah! She done tole me dat if she didn't cum back I was to gib you your supper and put you to bed, and dat's all I knows about it." "But she promised to take me to the theayter," said Harry, sorely disappointed to find his chances of enjoyment dependent upon such a precarious foundation. "To de theayter, eh! Well, did I ever hear o' such a thing? To de theayter! Why dat's de place wet my old missus, down in ole Virginny, used to done call de debil's workshop! Better go to meetin', honey. Do you a heap more good, de Lor' knows! 'Tain't no harm to go to a suckess; dar ain't no mischief in a suckess; I know dar ain't, case I's been to 'em myself, and it neber hurt me a bit, de Lor' knows. But a theayter! Ach, ach, don't catch me dar 'less I want to go straight to de bad place!" "I'd like to try if "t would hurt me," Harry replied, with great innocence. "I ain't afraid of it!" lOUT OF THE STREETS. 125 "Lor, child, go way, you scare dis nigger to deaf, just to heah you go on! Better say your prayers, honey, 'fore you goes to sleep to-night, or de debil come done fotch you, suah! Harry made no reply, but waited with great impatience for Mrs. Stevenson's return. She did not come; and as his impatience had not destroyed his appetite, he ate his supper, which Rose had prepared for him, and still waited on in hopes that Mrs. Steven- son would appear in time to take him to the theatre after all But he waited in vain, and at last allowed himself to be pur- suaded to go to bed, where he soon fell asleep, and did not wake till the sun was high up in the morning. He dressed himself and hurried down-stairs, where he found Mrs. Stevenson, who had also just risen, and who welcomed him as coolly as if she had not laid herself under his severe displeasure by the disappointment she had caused him. But he said nothing on the subject until they sat down to the breakfast-table, when he ventured to ask: "Will you take me to the theayter to-night, ma'am?" The lady was reading a newspaper when he asked the question, "nd did not make him any answer, but in a moment after she started suddenly, and said half aloud to herself: "As I thought! advertised! So, so!" Harry waited a moment, and then repeated his question. "No, not to-night nor the next, nor for some time to come. 'You must not ask me again!" Here was a downright fraud! The very first promise made to him was broken! He could have cried, but he felt more angry than sorry, and sat sullenly, making no reply. "There are many reasons which I cannot explain," Mrs. Ste- venson continued, after a short pause, " why I cannot let you go to the theatre or even out of the house, at present. You must stay in-doors, or I don't know what trouble will happen to you. After a week or so, then you shall go to the theatre, as often as you like, and see ' Big Six' too, perhaps!" "But I want to go now. You promised if I would not go back to Mr. Pivot " "Silence!" she said, snapping him up angrily. "You have heard what I said. You must not reply. You must obey me. I am going out now, and you will be able to amuse yourself with page: 126-127[View Page 126-127] 126 OUVT OF THE STBEEmTA the bfoolk in the book-cage yonder, until I rettrf t but do nlot dare to leave the house." 'She did not wait for any reply, but rose and left the room, and in a short time went out, leaving Harry once more, He got through the day as best he might, a prey to the disap- pointment he felt, and the gloomy thoughts which his solitude conjured up. OUT OF THE STREETS. 127 - CHAPTER XVIL 1^'i' iI 3DESPERATION-THE ESCAPE. "My blood run back, My shaking knees against each other knock'd- On the cold pavement down I fell entranced."-DRYDEN. SEVERAL dclays passed in this manner, Mrs. Stevenson going out in the morning, and not returning till after he had gone to sleep, and he grew very weary of the monotony! Sometimes Dick would come in during the day, and look at. him as if to assure himself that he was safe, and go away again, always telling him if he caught him out of doors he would be the death of him! At last, one day, Harry resolved to get out of the house, let the consequences be what they might! iather suffer any punish- ment than endure the lonely monotony of his confinement day after day, with no companions, and with that dreadful craving to be in and of the great city, which always haunted him, unsat- isfied! Rose had received her instructions not to allow him to cross the threshold, and Cerberus was never more faithful to his trust than she. The slightest movement toward the front-door conjured her to his side in an instant, and laying her hands on his shoulder, she would lead him in an opposite direction, saying: "Dis way, honey. Can't fool dis nigger! I's got my eye on you all de time, I has, suah!" But at last he hit upon a plan, by which he was enabled to frustrate even her lynx-eyed vigilance. 1He was sitting tet his window, looking out upon the city, so near, and yet so inaccessible to him, when a little bird lighted upon the branches of the tree, which grew beside the house, a few feet from, hisr. page: 128-129[View Page 128-129] 128 OUT- OF THE STREETS. Boy-like, he reached to catch the bird, which flew away, while he grasped the branch in his hand. It was an elm tree. The branches were long and flexible. .an, on the instant it occurred to him that if he could only swing off by that branch, he could find a footing on the limb below, and so manage to get away. He was light, agile, bold and daring! He had often done more desperate feats in mere sport, and the thought no sooner entered his head than he prepared to act upon it! Seizing his cap, he grasped the limb firmly, and drew it toward him with all his force, and so gradually raised himself to the sill of the window, upon which he stood for a moment, and then let- ting himself go, still keeping a firm hold of the limb, he descended several feet suddenly, and as suddenly his progress downward was arrested by the branch, which being strong enough to bear double his weight, did not break. Finding a resting place for his feet, in an instant more he let go of the branch, and grasping the trunk of the tree, glided downward, and stood upon the ground, safe and free. It mattered not which way he went so that he got away from the house which had so long been his prison; so as soon as he had passed out of the gate he ran to the left, in the direction of the more thickly settled part of the city. But the fates were against him. He had not gone over a hundred yards before he saw Dick Watkins approaching him. He stopped for a moment, and-then turned to run the other way, but Dick had seen him, and instantly gave chase. Harry was quick afoot, but no match for his pursuer, whose strong hand was soon firmly grasped in the collar of his jacket. "I've caught you, have IF"Dick growled between his teeth, panting for breath the while. "You was going to run away, was you, you spawn of the devil? I'll warm you for this! Come along! I'll let you know what it costs to run away!" And he proceeded to retrace his steps, dragging Harry after him. But Harry was determined not to go willingly, and hung back manfully. The struggle was a vain one, however, for, finding that if he stopped to parley or used half-way measures, the atten- OUT OF THE STREETS. 129 tion of passers-by would be attracted, Dick stooped, and seizing Harry in his stalwart arms, carried him bodily, holding one hand over his mouth, to smother his cries, into the house, where, ring- ing the bell furiously, he was soon admitted by Rose, who threw up her arms in astonishment and surprise at the unexpected sight of the boy being brought into the house, when she had not the faintest suspicion that he had ever gone out of it. "De Lor' bress us I' she exclaimed. "d Why, how de debil did he done gone get out o' heah? 9Why, 'pea's to me 'tain't mor'n a minit ago since he was down dah in de kitchen! "If it was your fault I'll murder you, you black hussy," Dick growled, putting the boy upon his feet, and shoving him into the parlor, where he followed him, and jerking him by the arm, asked, "Now tell me how you managed to get out o' this." But Harry had made up his mind not to betray himself, and answered not a word. "Why don't you speak?"Dick- shouted. "IDo you want me to brain you?" "I don't care whether you kill me or not," the boy said, firmly, suppressing the tears which the savage grip of the strong brute upon his arm forced into his eyes. "I won't tell you how I got out, only it wasn't her fault." "Lucky for her!" "Oh, indeed, mass'r," Rose protested, "I didn't know nothin' 'tall 'bout it. He must a-got froo de key-hole, for ebry doh and windah in de house is clean done fastened up tight, suah you born!" "Will you tell me how you got out? II Dick asked again. "No,!" was the firm response, " not if you kill me! I'd rather be dead, anyhow, than stay in this house. What do you want to keep me here for?" "Because I do. So you won't tell me how you got out? Well, there's only one way to tame such fiery bloods as you, and bum me if I don't tame you. Come with me-. So saying he seized the boy again by the collar of his jacket and dragged him up the stairs to his little room, where he pushed him in, gave him a sound cuff on the head as a parting salutation, and left the room, locking the door behind him. "I'll try what the silent system and bread and water will do page: 130-131[View Page 130-131] 130 OUT OF -THE STREETS. for you," he shouted through the door. "It's done wonders in its time in taming bigger devils than you are, and it will tame you in time. Harry made no reply, but sat listening to the sound of his footsteps as Dick retreated downstairs. He had not betrayed himself. The idea of his escaping from the window had never-occurred to Dick, and the opportunity for escape was again presented, of which he would avail himself without the fear of detection, and he longed for night to come, when he could once more make the attempt. But why, he thought, should this man and woman wish to de- tain him? Why should they be so anxious to keep him a pris- oner? He puzzled it over again and again to no purpose. The whole thing was a mystery to him. All that day he sat alone in his room. No one came near him. He had had nothing to eat since early morning, but he did not feel hungry; every faculty was bent upon but one object, escape! He had heard Dick go out late in the afternoon, but he might be lurking somewhere on the watch for him, and so he refrained form the trial he longed so much to make. Just after dark Dick returned, accompained by Mrs. Stevenson. He heard them talking as they approached the house, and they were quarreling, for high words passed between them, of which he seemed to be the subject. The quarrel was continued after they entered the house, and the conversation being carried on in M[rs. Stevenson's room, on the floor below, Harry managed,. by applying his ear close to the key-hole, to catch a word now and then. Presently the voices grew louder. "You ain't a-goin' to deal square with me," he heard Dick say. "I've give you up the picture and the paper, put you on the boy, and you are going back on me. You think when I'm gone to Australia you'll have the thing in your own hands, and play the game out yourself; but I won't go, or if I do, the boy goes with me." "Rather than you should take him," the woman replied, "I'll give him up to the Commissioners of the Alms-house, and let him go back to the Island, OUT OF THE STREETS. 131 "Then," the man answered, with a terrible oath, "I'll cut the young whelp's throat! Will you give me the money?' "No!" was the reply. "You shall have nothing!" Harry had by this time become thoroughly alarmed. The words he had heard indicated some plot or conspiracy in which he was implicated; the threats against his life all served to add personal fear to his previous motives for escape; and the quarrel still continuing, he did not wait to hear more, but rushing to the window, he reached out his arm to grasp the friendly branch which had before served his purpose. But the weight he had thrown upon it previously had bent it from its original position, and it was beyond his reach. f What should he do? qi He leaned out of the window until he almost lost his balance, and came near falling, but still the branch was out of his reach. He took off his jacket, and holding it by one of the sleeves, threw the other out upon the branch, in hopes of being able to grapple it, and thus draw it toward him. He made two or three attempts in vain, but, at last, succeeded, and in a moment the branch was in his hand. He drew it in and got a firmer hold of it, and, just as before, drew himself upon the sill, and just as he heard a fearful shriek ifrom the woman in the room below, he leaped off, and in a few moments stood upon the ground. Hastily picking up his jacket, which had fallen by his side, he sped out of the gate, ran down toward the river, when suddenly his foot struck against a stone, and stumbling, he fell headlong into a shallow pit, from where a large rock had been taken. He was stunned for a moment, but not seriously hurt, and so, with- the reflection that if his escape were discovered, and search were made, he could not find a better hiding-place, he lay still, panting for breath, after his severe exertion, where we will leave him for a while, and go back to the house. The scream which Harry had heard, and the startling character of which had expedited his flight, was uttered by the woman, and was caused by her refusal to comply with Dick's request to restore to him the locket and the picture which he had taken frcml he-r, but afterwards returned, and finding that words or threats' had no effect, had proceeded to use force, and rushing upon her," page: 132-133[View Page 132-133] 132 OUT OF THE STREETS, had seized his sister by the hair, and endeavored to force his hand into her bosom, where the coveted proofs were concealed. Uttering a loud scream, the woman endeavored to throw him off and escape from his grasp, but he held her in his vise-like grip so tightly that all her efforts were in vain. At last she bent down her head, and seizing his wrist in her firm, white teeth, she bit until she made them meet in his flesh, and the blood gushed forth in a dark red stream. In a moment Dick gripped her by the throat, and choked her to make her let go her hold, but she would not, and the struggle became fearful. He tried to force her to the bed, and in doing so, he pushed her against the movable arm at the end of which the gas was burning, and so pressed it upon the light lace curtains of the win- dow, and instantly set them in a blaze, which as quickly commu- nicated to the heavier curtains of the bed. Alarmed at this unexpected result, the desperate man let go his hold upon the woman's throat, and she fell to the floor insensible. Meanwhile the flames had spread with great rapidity, so that not only the curtains but the entire bed was now one mass of flame. In vain he sought to extinguish it by pulling away the burn- ing materials with his naked hands. The fragments which he tore away went blazing to various parts of the room, in their turn setting fire to-other light material; and Rose, who had come up-stairs, alarmed by the noise and smoke, had barely time to drag her mistress from the room before the apartment was all ablaze. "Take her down-stairs!"Dick shouted to the frightened ne- gress. '"Quick! The whole house will be a burning hell in a moment. Take her out of it, while I go and save the boy I Rose obeyed mechanically, while Dick rushed up-stairs to the door of H1arry's room. But he had forgotten the key le put his shoulder to the door and pressed against it with all his force, but it would not yield! Again and again he pressed, but in vain! At last he took a step or two backward, and rushing against the door with desperate strength, it gave way before him, and he entered the room! OUT OF THE STREETS. 133 It wag empty! He looked everywhere-under the bed and in it. There was no one there! e I Harry!" he shouted. There was no response. He rushed to the window. "Ha! The tree! He has got away F Pool that I was not to have thought of -that before " But the hissing and crackling of the flames below, and the blinding smoke which poured into the room, warned him tothe gone, and he rushed out into the hall! The staircase was on fire! The flames came leaping up towards him, and seemed deter- mined to embrace him in their fiery clasp, and drove him cowering back! Escape seemed to be shut off, and he must perish in the pyre his own desperate hand had raised! He made one more eff6rt to pass the terrible barrier, but was again driven back, and for the second time entered Harry's room and rushed to the window, for the smoke and heat were suffocat- ing him. He looked down. The flames were pouring out of the lower window in great scathing, glowing tongues, and by their light he saw the branch nearest to him by which: Harry had descended. There was no time to be lost! The flames were creeping to- ward his last refuge, and with a desperate hand he grasped the fragile end of the branch, and pulled the stouter limb toward him. Clutching it with all his strength, he threw himself into the air. But the branch which had aided his victim to escape from his treacherous hand now proved treacherous in its turn, and refus- ing to support his heavier bulk, broke with a loud snap, and the outlaw fell with a dull, heavy thud upon the earth, full thirty feet below. page: 134-135[View Page 134-135] 134 OUT OF THE STREETS. CHAPTER XVIII. AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE-A BREAKFAST AL FRESCO. He fell upon whate'er was offer'd, like A priest, a shark, an alderman or pike."--BYUon. FROM his hiding-place, where young Harry lay breathless and bruised, he saw the flames rise high above the house from which he had so opportunely escaped; heard the wild cry of Fire " from scared throats, and listened to the deep-toned bell as it gave the alarm from a neighboring tower. Then he began to hear the roaring of the engines and the hoarse shouts of the men. Hle wondered if "Big Six" was among them. At last, curiosity got the better of his fears, and, rising from the Shallow pit into which he had fallen, he retraced his steps to- ward the house, the bright flame lighting up his path and making the night as light as day. As he came out of the open lots, through which his course lay, and turned into the streets in which the burning house was sit- uated, a group of men approached him, carrying some large and heavy object, which looked like the form' of a man. The boy, with his fears, still upon him, dodged behind a tree and hid, so as not to be seen by the men who were nearing him: and as they passed the spot, the light from the fire shone full upon the object they were carrying. It was, indeed, a human form. The arms hung down and swung about lifelessly; and as Harry peered from his hiding-place, with curious gaze, into the face, of the man, he recognized the features, now pale and distorted, of lhis cruel persecutor, from whom he had so lately escaped, Dick. VLtkAins. Mauch as he had feared him, repulsive and wicked as he ap- peareod to him, Harry started back at the unexpected sight, and for a moment a feeling of horror came over him. OUT OF THE STREETS. 135 IQuickly recovering, however, from this sensation, which was succeeded by a sense of relief, he pursued his way with quickened steps toward the burning building, which by this time was sur- rounded by a crowd of persons and a number of fire-engines, one of which was already throwing a stream of water on the flames. The boy gazed with wondering and awe-stricken eyes upon the scene, which realized so much of what he had heard, and which he had so much longed to see. He became completely absorbed in watching the men at work upon the engines, and forgot Dick, Mrs. Bolton, his own situa- tion, and everything else, until the flames were extinguished and the house was left a mere blackened, smoking ruin. As he stood watching the firemen taking up the hose, a man standing near him asked one of the firemen: "Was the boy got out, or did he get burned up?" "I don't know," the fireman replied. '"We heard there was a boy in one of the rooms in the third story, and the foreman went up to the windows, but there was nothing but fire, and if he hadn't got away before, he must a' been burned up." ( Was the man that jumped out o' the window killed?" "He was pretty well mashed up, but he wasn't dead. They've took him round to the doctor's shop." Harry saw at once that the boy in regard to whose fate the inquiry had been made was no other than himself, and he was just going to make the fact of his escape known to the men, when he saw the negro servant emerge from the centre of a crowd grouped nearer the house, and come toward him. He had no difficulty in recognizing her form, for the glare of one of the torches shone full upon her ebony face, and she seemed to be looking for some one, probably himself; so he immediately turned and walked away, together with a crowd of persons who followed one of the engines, which started slowly away on its return from the fire. Harry kept with the crowd until the engine arrived at its des- tination, where he lingered about until it was drawn into the house and the doors closed. Then, the excitement caused by the novel scene he had wit- nessed having passed away, he began to consider where he should go or what he should. do. Should he try to find Peter Pivot, and page: 136-137[View Page 136-137] 136 OUT OF THE STREETS. tell him all that- had happened? Would he believe him if he did, or would he not, as Dick had told him, whip him first for run- ning away, and send him back to the Island afterward? Perhaps; and yet when the boy remembered how kind he had always been to him, and how good-natured he had ever ap peared, he could hardly make up his mind to believe he would be so harsh. Still, he had followed the soldiers, contrary to the express injunction of Peter, who had ordered him to remain where he had left him, and he had been taught to believe on the Island that disobedience to orders was a grave fault, punishable by the severest penalties. As for going back to the Island, that was out of the question; he had no idea of doing that; and so he finally resolved not to make any inquiries concerning Mr. Pivot, and thus avoid the risk. These reflections passed through his mind as he wandered on along the broad avenue, unconscious of where he was going. The streets were quite deserted, and he met no one, save a man with a ladder, who, as daylight appeared, passed rapidly along, putting out the lights upon both sides of the streets. Then the milkmen began to make their appearance going their morning rounds, stopping before the houses with their cheery, ringing "Yah Hoick I " and summoning sleepy-looking servant- girls and frowsy-headed children from areas, with their jugs to hold the sky-blue abomination which a bold flight of fancy leads city folk to call " pure country milk." Butchers' carts too, rattled-over the rough cobble-stones at a break-neck speed, with a deafening noise, the wide-awake butcher boys whistling as they tore along. Now the grog-shops and porter-houses begin to open their doors to admit the shivering, shaking, blear-eyed wretches, who come to get their ( bitters " in the shape of fiery compounds, so craftily compounded of noxious and poisonous ingredients, as to be worthy of the palmiest days of the Borgias. And now the corner groceries begin to show signs of life. Round-headed, rosy-faced young Teutons take down the shutters, and display upon the sidewalks samples of the wares for sale within, together with limp radishes, cruelly torn from their native soil a week or more ago; poor shrunken cabbages, stale fruit, and OUT OF THE STREETS. 137 a general assortment of vegetables upon which the hand of Decay is visible, and the consumption of which will go to swell the bills of mortality. By degrees the streets began to fill with a crowd, mostly of the laboring classes, all hurrying to their daily rounds of work and toil, and the little wanderer, from being alone, found himself one of a dense stream of people, all going in one direction. Harry followed the current through Greenwhich-street, until, quite tired and exhausted from hunger and lack of sleep, he reached Washington Market in a perfectly muddled and confused condition of mind. He was jostled on every side; -pushed now here, now there, warned by one to keep from being run over in the street, and cursed by another for being in the way upon the sidewalk! Finally, he took refuge in a little nook between two vegetable stalls, where, out of the way of the throng, he stood, looking with hungry eyes upon a stand not far off, where hot coffee and cakes were being dispensed by an olkIrishwoman, wrapped in a coarse plaid shawl. He had eaten nothing since morning of the previous day, and his usual hearty appetite had increased to fearful proportions. He felt that he was capable of making terrible inroads upon the old woman's stock in trade, if he only had had some money. Money! Ha! The two half-dollars which Mrs. Bolton had given him upon the play-grounds on the Island! In his fright and hurry he had forgotten them. They were in the pocket of the jacket he had worn when he left the Island. But no, he had that very jacket on! The one he had taken off to use as a grapple'to catch the branch of the tree by which he had escaped, he had thrown upon the floor, and had, luckily, in his haste, put on the other, which lay upon a chair beside him, and, sure enough, the precious half-dol- lars were still safe in the pocket. His fingers clutched them eagerly, and drawing his treasure forth, he looked upon it one moment, to- be sure of its reality, and the next he was standing by the coffee and cake stand, de- manding, as he had seen and heard others do, those unctuous luxuries to be served to him at once! A steaming cup of cloudy coffee, and a plate of smoking cakes, page: 138-139[View Page 138-139] 138 OUT OF THE STREETS. swimming in oily butter, were soon set before him, which he began to dispose of without ceremony. His first attack was made on the cakes, which he bolted rapidly, and had just raised the saucer into which he had poured a portion of the scalding coffee to his lips, when a hand, suddenly and roughly, fell on the top of his head, knocking his cap over his :. eyes, and burying his face in the steaming beverage, while a juve- nile voice exclaimed: ( Don't you know it ain't perlite to drink out o' the sasser? If it is too hot why don't you blow it? Say?" Harry dropped the saucer, and quickly raising his cap from his obscured vision, turned to see who it was that had taken such an audacious liberty, with the determination of then and there punching the offender's head! His wrath, however, quickly subsided, and a smile took the place of the gathering frown upon his face as he recognized one of his old acquaintances of the Island. A youth, whose real name was Barney Snede, but who was better known among the boys and his acquaintance generally by the less euphonious but more expressive sobriquet of "Pimples," a name in all probability suggested by the rough, not to say knobby, appearance of his countenance! "Why, Pimples, is that you?"Harry asked, ceasing to munch the doughy cake of which his mouth was full. Pimples did not think it worth his while to answer a question verbally when his presence vouched for the fact so unquestionably, but thrusting his hands into the very roomy pockets of an ex- ceedingly airy and shockingly dilapidated pair of trousers, and looking Harry in the face with a preliminary sniff, he asked: "Are you a-goin' to treat to coffee and cakes? How much money have you got? I'm dead broke. Goin' to treat?" and without waiting for a reply he at once addressed himself to the woman of the stall, telling her to give him "A cup of coffee, plenty sugar and milk, and a plate o' cakes, brown, with lots o' butter, and," he added, as the woman looked at him doubtfully, "my friend will pay the shot! He's jist come back from Cali- forny, and he's as rich as John Jacob Astor!" "But will he?" asked the woman, looking at Harry. "Will you pay for thenm? 'Because if you don't, divil a sup or bite will OUT OF THE STREETS. 139 he get here, for he owes me one-and-ninepence already, bad cess to you, you sootherin' young villain, ever since the day before the Fourth of July." "Yes, I'll pay," said Harry. "How much is it?" "A shil for both," Pimples replied. "Hand over the coffee and cakes, Mother Maginnis, and don't be dunnin' a'feller that's broke and down in his luck!" "Sure, I'll be after seeing the money first." "That's what the papers call a want of confidence in commer- cial circles," Pimples suggested. "But pay her, Harry, for she's as hard as a flint!" Harry took out one of his precious coins and handed it to the woman, who first rang it on the stall, and then bit it, to be sure of its genuineness, before putting it in her pocket and giving Harry the change, after which she proceeded to fill the order. given by Pimples, who immediately set to work to put the coffee and cakes out of sight without another word. When he had finished he turned to Harry who was just wip- ing his mouth on the back of his hand, after swallowing the last drop of his coffee and the last crumb of cake, and jerking his head over his shoulder, said ," Come on!" at the same leading the way toward the other end of the market. Harry followed mechanically, until at last Mr. Pimples thought proper to stop, which was not until he had gone as far as the end of the pier, when he deliberately seated himself upon the string- piece, and told Harry to do the same. "This is where I come," he said, "arter breakfast to enjoy a quiet loaf and a chaw. It's nice and cool, and out o' the way o' the peelers. Come, sit down. Will you have a chaw o' backer? ' No," said Harry, seating himself by Pimples's side; "I tried it once and it made me sick." "So it did me at first. You'll have to practice on orange-peel and liquorish-root till you can go this. When did you run away from the Islanid, and how did you do it?" "I didn't run away at all," Harry answered; "I was brought to the city to be made an apprentice of." "Apprentice to what?" "To Mr. Pivot. He undertakes funerals, and makes coffins and shrouds." page: 140-141[View Page 140-141] "O OUT OF THE STREETS. "And I s'pose he's sent you on an errand, and you're playing hookey?" "No," said Harry; "I haven't seen him but once, and that was the day I came down--more than a week ago. I followed the soldiers, and got lost." By degrees he told Pimples all his adventures since his arrival in the city, ending with his escape and the fire of the night before. Pimples listened with great interest to Harry's narrative, and when he had finished he gave a long whistle, took a fresh quid of tobacco, and, after looking at Harry for a moment with a shrewd, cunning expression, asked, abruptly: "Where did you get that money? I seed you have half-a-dol- lar." Harry explained this, to the apparent satisfaction of Mr. Pim- ples, who nodded his head, and asked: "How much money have you got?" Satisfied upon this point, he desired to know what he was going to do with it. Harry, not having maae up his mind on this important subject, replied he did not know. "Seven shil'," 1Mr. Pimples observed, with a business-like air, "ain't much of a stake. No feller kin do much with seven shillP, 'less he knows the pints, and is alive in the game." "It won't last long," said Harry; " and when it's all gone, what am I going to do? I guess I'd better try and find Mr. Pivot" "You're green!" exclaimed Mr. Pimples, emphatically-" as green as grass! What's the use o' being an apprentice when you can go in business for yourself and be your own boss? Do you think old Pivot will let you run to fires, or go to the theatre? No, sir; he won't do nothin' o' the sort. I tell you what to do; be my apprentice! I'll teach you a trade 1" "Do you know a trade? Is it shoemaking? A: "No; it's shoeblacking," answered Pimples; " and a good trade it is. It's only just -begun, and it pays first-rate. Seven shil' is enough to set us up, and I'll teach you the biz. Did you ever black shoes?" ( My own, on Saturday nights, on the Island. I never blacked anybody else's." OUT OF THE STREETS. 141 "You'll soon learn. Come on! I know where I can buy brushes and blacking cheap, and where there's a good lay. You 'c an prastice on me. I'll give you lessons, and we'll go pards I Come on!" Here was an opening not to be refused, and Harry, accepting the proposition without hesitation, rose and followed his mentor, who led the way to the end of the pier, and through the crowded street, with his arms buried to the elbows in his pockets, and whistling loudly, as he pursued the wriggling tenor of his way. They had not far to go before a place was found where all that was necessary for setting his protege and apprentice up in business was found by Pimples, the purchase of which nearly exhausted the entire capital of the firm, the balance of which the senior member, or sleeping partner thereof, proposed should be immedi- ately spent in pork and beans, as possessing more " filling " and "Iasting " qualties, considering the price, than any " grub" he was acquainted, with. To this proposition Harry likewise assented, being thereunto persuaded by Pimples, who assured him they would make enough by boot-blacking during the day to furnish supper and lodging, and tickets for the theatre into the bargain. Inspired by this speedy prospect of gratifying the desire near- est his heart, Harry suffered himself to be led to a place where pork and beans were to be had in great perfection, as well -as in the quantity desired, where he and Pimples more than made up for the scantiness of their breakfast. "Now!" exclaimed Pimples, after the repast was over, and he had refreshed himself with his last remaining quid of tobacco, "Now then, for buisness. Get out your tools and go to work. Just see what sort of a job you kin turn out o' them there boots. If you kin shine them up you needn't be afeared to tackle nothing in the shape o' leather." So saying, he laid his back against the pine table upon which their meal had been served, stretched out his legs to their fullest extent, displaying a pair of boots at the end of them, the heels of which were on the inside of the ankles, the soles of which had departed, and the uppers of which gaped in fifty places, and were covered with a thick coating of street mud. page: 142-143[View Page 142-143] "2 OUT OF THE STREETS. "Now, fire away, young 'un; put in your best licks, and don't spare elbow-grease." Harry looked at the boots with a woe-begone expression, as if despairing of ever being able to improve their appearance, and did not move. "Why don't you fire away?" asked Pimples, stopping the whistling in which he had been indulging, and withdrawing his eyes from the ceiling. "Scrape off the mud fust, then rub 'em with the hard brush; then put some blackening on the soft brush; then put it on the boot; then polish with the hard brush and the soft brush together, and the job's done." In very desperation Harry commenced the Augean task, while Pimples -superintended the operation with a critical eye, giving him more elaborate directions. Now requesting him " not to rub so hard as to hurt his corns," and again cautioning him to be "careful not to soil his stockings," and above all things, " to be sure to not get any of the bltcklening on the hem of his doeskin trousers." Harry rubbed and brushed away; now laughing at the droll- ery of Pimples, and half crying the next moment at the seeming impossibility of bringing the job to anything like a satisfactory conclusion, until, at last, time, peseverance and endurance tri- umphed, and Pimples pronounced the effort a great success. "I couldn't a done it better myself," he said looking at his wreck of boots, which, now they were polished, seemed more fear, fully dilapidated than ever " and now we'll go and look for cus- tomers. I knows where to find 'em. Wall-street's the place, andc the chaps there is all sixpenny fellers, too." Elated with his success and the prospect of turning his skill to immediate account, Harry followed his leader in high spirits, and more astonished than ever at all he saw upon the way. The Exchange in Wall-street reached, they stopped, and bid- ding Harry take a seat upon the lower step, Mr. Pimples com. menced business in earnest, by accosting every person who came along with, "Black your boots, sir! Black your boots! Make 'em shine like gaslight! Black your boots!" It was not long before a customer was found, whom he led to Harry, and who straightway fell to work upon his understand- ings, with all the ardor of an aspirant for fame and fortune. OUT OFi THE STREETS. 143 I - After his hard experience uponrthe boots of his partner, all else became easy by contrast, and his first customer went away per- fectly satisfied, leaving sixpence behind him as a recompense, which Pimples immediately took possession of, observing that "they'd divide after business-hours," and proceeded at once to drum up more customers. He found them, toward three o'clock, in abundance, and for a couple of hours business was brisk, and many sixpences found their way into Pimples's very roomy pocket. Once, when Harry was engaged with a customer, Pimples dis- appeared for a short time, and when he returned, Harry observed that he took his tobacco from a new and fresh paper, and as he came close to him, that a flavor of oranges pervaded him. He had evidently been making an investment on his own ac- count from their newly-acquired capital. 'By five o'clock business began to be slack, and Pimples pro- posed they should change their field of operations to the Astor House and the American Hotel. They were about starting on the way thither, when an old gentleman suddenly emerged round the corner from Exchange Place, who had evidently inadvertently stepped into a mortar- bed but a short time before, for his boots were soiled with lime. Pimples attacked him at once. "Black your boots, sirh Have your boots blacked! Make 'em shine?" "Out of the way, you young vagabond!" exclaimed the old gentleman, pushing Pimples on one side with a cane; "I don't wanat my boots blacked!" "Yes, you do, sir; only just look at 'em! You been and gone and whitewashed 'em all over! Just let me have the lime brushed off 'em, won't ye? Lime's bad for leather.' "Lime!" ejaculated the old man; "lime, eh? Ah, bless me, so it is! - Well, you may black 'em." Pimples led his new customer to Harry at once, who .got rid of the lime in a moment or two, and polished the boots so that the old man could have seen his wrinkled, pinched-up face in them. "How much?" he asked, putting his hand in his pocket, after Harry had completed his job. "Sixpence!"Harry answered. "Only sixpence! We don't charge nothin' extra for the-limeo,? page: 144-145[View Page 144-145] "4 OUT OF THE STREETS. added Pimples, -holding out his grimy paw to receive the mo- ney. "Sixpence! shouted tihe old gentleman; " sixpence for black- ing boots I I never heard of such a thing! Why, you young rascals, you ought to be sent to the House of Refuge for swind- ling! I shall only pay three cents! Three cents is enough! ' "Sixpence is the price, old man, so fork out!" said Pimples, with his grimy hand still extended. "I shall only give you three cents," the old gentleman replied, dropping that sum into the palm of Pimples's hand, and adding, "That's is more than it is worth," he moved away. "Come back, old skin-flint!" cried Pimples, holloaing after him; " come back and I'll give you a ship to black my boots!" The old gentleman turned toward- Pimples, raising his cane threateningly, exclaiming: "I'll give you to the police, you thieving young scoundrel!" But just at that time a tall, handsome gentleman, younger by some years than himself, approached him, saying: "What is the matter, Mr. Maberly? What is the matter ' :' "Ha! Mr. Heaton, is that you? . Those young scoundrels there were trying to rob me; but I am too smart for them!" "' To rob you, Mr. Maberly?" Yes, rob me! They wanted to charge me sixpence for black- ing my boots, the young dogs!" "But you didn't pay it, did you?" 1 Mr. Heaton remarked. "No, no. As you say, you are too sharp for that! Are you going my way? Allow me!" And he offered his arm to old Peter Maberly, for he it was, who accepted it with a grunt, and hobbled off with him, still scolding, while Pimples gave him a parting salute, by inquiring: "Won't you come back and have a pickle, old vinegar mug?" In accordance with Pimples's advice, they made' their way to the Astor House, where Harry was kept constantly employed till nearly dark, when they closed business for the day, and, under the friendly guidance of Pimples, proceeded to "Sweeney's " to supper. After a fair division of the earnings of the day, or rather of the sixpences left in Pimples's pocket, they wended their way toward the Bowery theatre, where we will leave them to the en- joyment of all the delights which there awaited them. OUT OF THE STREETS. 145 ! = CHAPTER XTX. THE LOVE WHEICH MGHT HAVE SAVED, TIIE HATE %WHCH WOULD DESTROY. "How little do they see what is, who frame Their hasty judgments upon that which seenms."-SOUTHEY. "A stony adversary, void and-empty From every drachm of mercy. '-SHAKESPEARE. SYDNEY HEATON arrived at home on the night after his inter- view with Dick Watkins, a prey to the most conflicting emo- tions. At last Fortune had smiled upon him. He had recovered a portion of the large sums he had lost, and would now be enabled, in some measure, at least, to free himself from the humiliating position in which his losses had placed him. But at the very moment of his success, at the time when he experienced all the elation consequent upon the accomplishment of his triumph, when he began to believe that the Future would bring compensation for the Past, the Shadow of the Past, in the form of this man, fell upon his path, and filled his soul with bit- ter thoughts, with keen remorse and gloomy forebodings. Letting himself, as quietly as possible, into the house, he at once sought the privacy of the library, where, throwing himself into a large arm-chair which stood near the table, he reflected upon all that had transpired within the last few hours. The fumes of the liquor he had taken had passed away, and had given place to an excitement of a different character. "There is a curse upon me," he thought to himself, " or why does this man come back at such a time? I hoped that he was dead, and that my secret had died with him; but when I least expected him, he confronts me, and threatens me with exposure. Would to Heaven that I had never placed myself in his power! Fool that. I was! better have endured the proverty and wounded page: 146-147[View Page 146-147] "6 OUT OF THE STREETS. pride I so much feared than- have suffered all I have, and still suffer, from seeking to avoid them. And now I have everything to fear from this bloodhound's treachery. I had hoped that the grave or the hangman had long since rid me of the scoundrel], and that I should be free! Yes, free!-free from him!-free f'rclm tho fear which now hangs over me like a terrible nightnlare. Free," he continued, speaking aloud, and walking rapidly to 1and fro, his face expressive of deep emotion, " from all this; but not free from myself, from the memory of the past! Not free from the bitter thoughts which haunt me, and from the terrible remorse which preys upon me! Would to Heaven that I had never done this desperate, this cowardly and cruel deed! that I had followed the promptings of my first and best impulses; that I had not allowed myself to be tempted by the fear of losing all' that I thought to purchase by my crime! But it is too late to repent now. All is over, and I must bear the consequences, be they what they may. Mly punishment has been severe; but I have end:ured it, and am prepared to endure all that fate may have in store for me. I'll think of it no more. Let me look to the pres- ent, not upon the past. "Let me see,' he 'mused, as he reseated himself at the table. "with the sum I have won I shall be able to cover from the keen eyes of my shrewd father-in-law, and my lady wife, most of my delinquencies. The dread of exposure will then be avoided, and by persistent effort I may redeem myself. ;Tis worth the trial. And once more freed from this man, whose very presence numbs and enthralls me, I will renew the struggle! Fortune has looked kindly on me for once, at any rate, and if she woos me to follow her, I will not let her woo in vain! He sat till the daylight shone in upon him, absorbed in such reflections, and with fevered blood and throbbing head, sought the repose he so much needed. A few days after this eventful night, and a day or two before that on which Dick Watkins had agreed to depart for Australia, Mrs. Heaton, whose pleasures, pursuits and interests were entirely separate and distinct from those of her husband, except uponl public occasions, was seated in her elegant and exquisite boudoir, having just returned from a round of visits among her sister Queens of Society. OUT OF THE STREETS. 147 The years which had passed over her since we saw her last, have left no traces upon her smooth brow; the delicate and peach- like softness of her cheeks is as fresh as in her maidenhood. Her eyes are as bright and as proud as ever, and her beautiful form, more rounded and full than formerly, is still a model of graceful symmetry. The charming and fascinating girl of eighteen has become the more chairming and more fascinating woman; and as she sits in her luxuriousfauteuil of blue satin, the soft light from the chandelier above falling upon her, she forms a study upon which a Titian or an Angelo might have exhausted all his art. Her maid has just concluded her offices, and is about retiring from the room. As she opens the door, she starts back in some surprise, at the sight of Sydney Heaton, who is standing just outside. Looking languidly up, Mrs. Heaton also evinces some surprise at the appearance of Sydney in such a sudden and unexpected manner, and gives a little start as well. "I beg your pardon for obtruding myself so unceremoniously," Sydney said, entering the room, and closing the door after him, as the maid went out; " but I was coming to inquire if you could spare me a few moments of your charming society." "Certainly," she replied, with a slight curl of her pouting lip. "Pray be seated! The request is so unusual, that it would be selfish in me to refuse. Mkiay I know to what I am indebted for the rare compliment you pay me by this unexpected visit?" "I feel the full force of your sarcasm, but shall not retaliate," Sydney answered, taking a chair opposite to her. "I come, in the first place, to speak of a few matters of business. The securi- ties which I borrowed from you-without your permission, I should probably add-have been returned. Here is the receipt. Here also is the sum of five thousand dollars, which you loaned me." And he laid the receipt and the money before her. "The receipt you will be kind enough to hand to my father," she replied, coldly, giving it back to him, and putting the money in-a jewel-case near her. i He has consented to take the entire charge of my business. Under the circumstances, I could no longer impose such a burden upon you, who are not a man of business!" page: 148-149[View Page 148-149] "8 OUT OF -THE STREETS. "I intend to become one," said Sydney, "and the confession brings me to the chief object of my visit." "( Oh, then, there is another reason for your presence here. It must be a very cogent one, for it is a long time since you have done me the honor of seeking my society, except on business!" she said, with a strong emphasis upon the last word, and with a sneer upon her lip. "I know it," he answered; " but I have seriously reflected upon my course during the past few years, and have come now to give you the assurance that from this hour I intend to begin a new career!" "I congratulate you, Mr. Heaton, upon the resolution you have made, and trust that you will adhere to it. I think you will find , it will conduce to your interest to do so." "I am sure it will, and to my happiness also, as well as yours, I trust." "( Nay, I hope you will leave me entirely out of the question. Your course, whatever it may be, cannot possibly affect me, un- less it may be," she added, ' that as I bear your name, I shall be less often required to blush for it. Beyond this, there can be nothing in common between us. We are independent of each other, and I desire that we shall remain so." "Then you confess you have lost all feelings, all consideration for me?" "Why should I have feeling or consideration for one who has never shown any for me? What I might have felt, or what con- sideration and respect I might have had for you under other cir- cumstances, it is not worthl while now to discuss. The tie which binds us was not of our own seeking. It was thought at the time by wiser heads than ours to be a proper and desirable thing to accomplish, and we both yielded to superior judgment, though I may well doubt, as others would, had they the light of my know- ledge to guide them, whether it would not have been better for one-say you-or both of us, if the links which bind us had not been forged. However, they were forged, and the tie betwixt us is indissoluble. I have ever regarded it, and shall while I live, as sacred!" , "You speak coldly, cruelly, perhaps," Sydney answered, "but I cannot deny the truth of what you say. Such thoughts -have l OUT OF THE STREETS. 149 passed through my own mind within a few days; and I desire to change all this." "I see no reason for any change further than the one you pros pose to make in regard to yourself. I have never exacted aught from you but a certain show of respect. That I had a right to; first as a lady, secondly as your wife in the sight of the world, and the mother of your child! That accorded, I have nothing more to ask!" There was no excitement in her manner. She looked him full in the face while she said this, but her eyes were cold and almost cruel in their expression. Sydney did not reply for a moment, but sat. gazing at her after she had finished speaking and turned her eyes away from him. She had never looked. so beautiful, he thought, before. There was a something about her-an atmosphere of fascination which had never struck him until then. When they were first married he was proud of her young beauty, and was, to a certain extent, attracted by it; but the feeling he might have had for her was not love; for a time-a short time -it might have been a passion, and then his vanity was flattered by the praises he heard bestowed upon her, and the envy his pos- session of her had caused in the hearts of half his friends in So- ciety. But within the past few days he had, as he had declared to her, reflected deeply. The remorse he felt for some unatoned fault or crime; the dread that hung over him lest his secret should be betrayed, and a sickening craving at his heart for sympathy, all had tended to subdue his nature; and as he now gazed upon his wife, sitting before him in all her superhuman beauty, yet so cold, so passion- less, so disdainful and cruel in her avowed contempt of him, a new feeling stole over him-a desire to change her coldness to warmth, her cruelty to kindness, her contempt to respect, her hatred to love. It was a new impulse. He had quaffed deep of the cup of pleasure, and it had palled upon his lips. He had exhausted Passion, till a feeling of disgust had taken its place. He had known every excitement; he had tasted every delight. Love he had never known-but once, and then he had crushed out the sentiment page: 150-151[View Page 150-151] 150 OUT OF THE STREETS. with a desperate will, and left sorrow, remorse, and vain regret in its place. There was something, too, in Blanche, as she sat before him, seemingly heedless even of his presence, which touched his pride, wounded his vanity-two of the strongest characteristics of his nature--and he felt as if it were a task worthy of the prowess, of his earlier days to inspire that cold form of beauty with love for him. All this, and more, passed through his mind during the few moments he gazed upon her, and at last he said: "The change I spoke of included something more. I desire a radical change. I would change the entire aspect and current of my life. I would bridge the gulf which separates us-the gulf I have made myself, if you will. I would close it up forever. I would give you all the respect and honor which you assert to to be your right, and more. 'I would change our entire relation- ship. I would change neglect for attention, antagonism for sym- pathy. I would change the World for Home, and wretchedness for happiness!" She listened for a moment as coldly and as listlessly as she had spoken before, but as he proceeded, she looked at him with sur- prise and interest, and when he paused, she replied with no less coldness or disdain: "And how do you propose to bring all these changes about? Have you studied the occult arts? Are you a wizard, gifted with some magic power?" "No," he answered quickly; A" the change has already come upon me, and if I exert any power, it must be to produce a change in you. By repentance for the past-by showing you that I make no hasty promise when I tell you of my resolve henceforth to lead a different life; to grow day by day more worthy of your respect, and your. esteem--I dare not say your love." "My respect you may win-my esteem, perhaps, if you pursue the course you speak of, but my love--never! It is too late now, if the time has ever been when you might have awakened such a feeling in me! Love was not mentioned, save as a mere verbal form, which neither of us regarded, when we made the marriage contract. It was no part of the bargain between us, and in ex- OUT OF THE STREETS. 151 acting that, you exact too much. For a long time past it would have been folly to have called us even friends." "I trust that time is past forever," Sydney urged. "That depends in a great measure upon yourself. If you are sincere, we may be friends. It will be better for the world to at least think us such; it is not necessary it should imagine more." "You give me no encouragement. I would hereafter live for you. I would give up all that has been the pleasure of my life, to add to the happiness of yours, and you receive the offer with a sneer.:' "Because I feel how impossible it is that you should accom- plish your purpose. But I will sneer no more. Let us drop the subject. I am engaged for this evening, and must prepare to go out." "Then you think the task which I have set myself is hope- less?"Sydney asked. "If your task is to make us more to each other than we were at first, yes. If your object is to once more gain my confidence, my respect and friendship, you may succeed; that rests with yourself; and, be assured, you shall have all the encouragement that I can give you. In token of which, I offer you my hand!" Sydney took the hand she extended toward him, raised it to his lips, and imprinted a warm kiss upon it, saying: "The time will come when, instead of your hand, you will proffer me your lips! ' She made no reply, but withdrew her hand quickly, and turned away from him, while he moved toward the door, with an expres- sion of mortification and grief upon his face. -I am going to Mrs. Loxley's," said she, as he was about leav- ing the room. "Will you be my escort?P" ' "I regret," he replied, "that I cannot do so. I have made a business engagement for this evening, and I must keep the ap- pointment. But it shall be the last time I will ever ask you to excuse me for not complying with such a request. You will not be late-!" "No, I shall be at home before twelve." "Perhaps I shall see you on your return'. Till then, au revoir!" "Sans adieu!" she replied, and he left the room. page: 152-153[View Page 152-153] 152 OUT OF THE STREETS. He directed his steps toward the library, where he remained in deep thought, and a short time after she had left the house, he rose and prepared to do the same. As he was putting on his gloves, a servant entered the room and informed him that a person who refused to give his name desired to speak to him., "Refused to give his name! Did you ask his name?"Sydney inquired. "I axed him for his card, sir, and he said he had none. Then I axed him for his name, and he said you'd know his name when you saw him. He's outside in the hall. Shall I tell him to come in?" "I'll save you the trouble by walking in without being told,' said some person behind the servant, and the next moment Dick Watkins, dressed much better than usual, stepped into the apart- ment. Sydney started, and his first impulse was to order the intruder out of the room, but checked himself, and, turning to the servant, said: I know this person. Leave us!" As soon as the servant left the room. Sydney turned upon Dick with a look of fierce anger, and inquired: "Why do you come here, scoundrel? Why do you dare to force yourself into my presence in my own house?" "'Because I couldn't find you anywhere else, and because I couldn't wait," answered the imperturbable villain, coolly letting himself down into one of the large leathern chairs, and crossing his legs. "What have you to say to me, now that you are here?" "A good deal, when you are ready to hear it. I don't want to say anything while you're mad. I'm in no hurry. This is a snug place, and I can wait till you cool off!" "The ship upon which you ivere to leave sails day after to-mor- row. Are you prepared to go in her?"Sydney asked, looking at Dick, savagely. "That was understood, wasn't it? . If you keep your word, I'll keep mine, unless you want me to stay to do some other business for you. . I'm ready for almost any sort of a job! "I have nothing for you to do, and shall expect you to go in OUT OF THE STREETS. 153 the ship. If not, I will keep my word, and give you up to the authorities. They'll put you out of my way, at any rate." "Don't make threats, captain. I don't like to hear 'em, 'spe- cially when they don't amount to nothing. If you kin blow on me, I kin blow on you! My hand's as good as yours, and I hold the ace, so it ain't hardly worth your while to call me. I know the game o' bluff as well as you!" , Once more, why do you come here?"Sydney asked, with subdued impatience. "My time is precious; if you have any- thing to say, say it, and begone." 9"Well, I've a good deal to say, so you had better take a seab, for you'll get tired o' standing afore I've done, and you'd better be sure, first, that there's no ears nigh, as maybe you wouldn't like to have what I've got to tell you dropt on by nobody.!" "We are alone. There is no one in the house, save the servants, and they are in the room below. Now proceed with this impor- tant news, or I shall lose my patience," Sydney said, taking a chair near the table and folding his arms. "All right! To commence with," Dick began, hitching the heavy chair a little nearer to Sydney, and speaking in a low voice, " when I saw you last and we made that little arrangement for me to go away and stay away, taking your secret and my secret with me, I thought, and you thought, I was the only one that knowed anything about it." "Well, so we were! No one else could know, except one and- ) "That one couldn't speak anyhow. Well, leaving that one out, we was both fooled I " "What do you mean?P "I nmean there is another." "Another?" "Another, certain, know:;3 it all. M[ore knows a part I "Who is this person?" "A woman! "A woman?" "Yes, and they ain t gooa at tceepin' secrets. But this one is different. She'll keep it forever, while it suits her purpose! "Do you know her?" "Well?" page: 154-155[View Page 154-155] 154 -OUT OF THE STREETS. Have you seen her?" "Yes." "Where is she?" "In New York." "What is her name?t "That's tellin'." "Answer me!' "I ain't very tonguey, and I can't tell so much all at once." "How did this woman gain her information?" "There now, that's what the lawyers would call a pertinent question; it comes right to the point, and leads me to just where I want to begin. It's a strange sort of a story, and maybe you won't believe it at first, but you will afore I'm done " "Go on." "Well, you see, one cold, winter's night, a good many years ago, there was a woman picked up in the streets. She was dying when they found: her, and they took her to a place called the Tombs; and there, on the same night, she had a kid-a baby-" "A baby!"Sydney exclaimed. "Yes, a baby! Don't put me out. Well, you see, she. was powerful weak when she was found and taken in, and she got weaker and weaker; and just after the baby was born, she fainted or dropped off to sleep, or something; anyhow, she didn't know nothing. There was a woman sat up with her, though, who was wide-awake, and was ready to take any chance that offered; and she had saw a gold chain round the sick woman's neck; so you see, when the sick woman fell asleep or fainted, and the wide- awake woman was left alone, what does she do but get a hold of the chain and drawed the end on it out, and there was fastened to it-what do you think?" "A watch, I suppose," Sydney answered. "Go on!" "No, it warn't a watch; it was a locket, and that locket con- tained a picture of a handsome young man, whose name, when I knowed him, was Richard Norman! Queer, ain't it " "Great heaven! what do you mean?" exclaimed Sydney, starting to his feet. "Don't git excited," said Dick, coolly; "I ain't told half on it yet. Sit down!" OUT OF THE STREETS. 155 "Go on!"Sydney exclaimed resuming his seat in great excite- ment. "Do not keep me in suspense. Go on!" Well, you see, when she put her hand-I mean the wide-awake woman-when she put her hand in the sick woman's bosom, to take off the chain, she felt something rustle like paper; so she took that out, too, and read it. Now, what do you suppose that was? You wouldn't never guess, so I'll tell you. It was a mar- riage-'stificate, signed by Parson Davis, of South Mitchim, and telling how he married Richard Norman to Helen Fairly. The woman died the next morning, and I saw that there locket and that there 'stificate in the hands of the woman who took them, this very day." Sydney sat gazing at Dick Watkins like one in some horrible dream, for a moment, and then, as if realizing in all its force the full meaning of the revelation he had listened to, started to his feet in a paroxysm of shame, grief and remorse. "Merciful Heaven!" he exclaimed, at last, after pacing up and down the apartment a few times, with his hands pressed close to his face; " and was this, indeed, her fate? God knows I never dreamed of that! I wronged her deeply, cruelly, wickedly, but I never thought that she would be dragged out of the streets to die in a prison! No, no; I never thought that! I never meant that! I sent money to her at South Mitchim, under un assumed name, and learned that she had left the place and that the money had been sent after her. I caused inquiries to be made here, from those who knew her, when I first met her, but could learn nothing of her, and concluded that after having become satisfied of my death, she had gone back to England to her fam- ily! Guilty wretch that I am, what have I not to answer for? My God! the thought will drive me mad! mad! mad!" And the conscience-stricken man threw himself upon a sofa and give way to the wildest grief and bitter self-accusation. Dick did not move from where he sat, but remained a perfectly passive witness of Sydney's agony, not venturing a word of sym- pathy or condolence until the first violence of the burst had passed, when he said: "When you have digested that bit of news, I've some more to give you!" page: 156-157[View Page 156-157] 156 OUT OF THE STREETS. Sydney rose to his feet, and calming himself by a powerful effort, said, in a deep, hoarse voice: "Leave this house I Begone! Never let me see the shadow of your villainous carcass upon the threshold of my door again! Death has freed me from the chain of guilt which bound me to you. Your power over me is gone! Leave me, and at once, or by the heaven above me, I'll have you dragged. hence in irons, wholesale murderer and robber that you are!" "When you've done your jawing and your threatening," Dick said, coolly, -" and have blowed your blow out, I'll finish the story I've begun. The first part interested you a heap; but the second p-rt will beat it all to fits; and after you have heard it, maybe you'll be more willing to listen to reason." "I'll hear no more! Begone!" was Sydney's stern reply. "Well, maybe if you won't hear, you'll speak! When was you married? I don't mean in South Mitchim; the 'stifcate tells that plain enough. I mean when was you married to the proud and handsome lady who -is now Mrs. Sydney Heaton?" "What is that to you?" "It is a good deal to you! If you married your present wife before your first one died, then I've got you where I want you. If you didn't, then you've got me. That's plain, ain't it? It's an even chance, like chucking the dips* or flippin' for the birdt- only one of us has got to win fust time." "On the 19th day of February, 184-, at nine o'clock in the evening," Sydney answered, with desperation in his voice and aspect. "On the 19th day of February, 184-, at nine in the evening," Dick repeated to himself, as he quietly took a wallet from the breast of his coat and drew from it a piece of paper, which he slowly read over, and then said: "And {Mary Wright, that was the name she gave at the police station, died on the 20th day of February, 184-, at half-past five o'clock in the morning, in child- bed! Sixes for me-aces for you. I win the pool! -Now maybe you'll have me dragged away from here in irons! If bigamy's a hanging matter, we can both swing comfortably together!" Sydney stared for a moment at Dick who had. now risen, and * Throwing dice. t Tossing a dollar. OUT OF m"HE STREETS 157 stood boldly confronting his victim, perfectly aghast at what he had heard, and without uttering a word sank into a chair as if struck down by a heavy blow. "You ain't so full o' fight as you was, cap'n! Them that holds a full hand is bound to win if they play it smart,"? Dick said, triumphantly, slapping the paper in his hand. "No more," gasped Sydney, after a moment of silence. 5 No more! I see it all! I am in your power! What shall I do?" "Why now you are coming back to reason again! I don't want to be too hard on a manll wot's down and hollers, Enough. But I haven't told you all yet. You've forgot about the kid 5" "You mean the child! Did it die too?" "Why, no; there's luck again, you see. It's all in my favor. He didn't die. He is alive to-day!" -"Where is he?" "Where I can lay my hands on him at any time! The mar- riage 'stif'cate, the locket, the boy, are all in my hands. I can produce 'em at any time!" "I am glad the boy lived!" said Sydney, musingly. "Very glad! I may be able, through him, to make some atonement for the deep wrong I did his poor, dead mother! Can I see the boy?" "If I take you where he is, or bring him here-I'll do which- ever you say!" "Enough! We will talk further of this matter another time. I can bear no more now. I am unmanned and broken down! I will see you to-morrow, but do not come here! Meet me at the place where we parted last-the cellar in the Bowery! There we will see what is to be done; but in mercy, leave me now. I expect my wife to return at any moment, and---- "It would make her stare, wouldn't it??"Dick growled in Sydney's ear, if she knew all I've told you! Lord, how them eyes of hers would snap! She's awful handsome, anyhow, but she'd look like an angel if she was mad. It would be a sight to see, I tell you! "No more! 5" said Sydney, with a look of despair, as he turned upon the outlaw. "All right!!" exclaimed Dick. "I reckon you'll keep your word; if you don't, I know where to find you, so good-night!5 " He opened the door and stepped out into the hall, followed by page: 158-159[View Page 158-159] 158 OUT OF TIIE STREETS. Sydney, who opened the front door to let him into the street. As he did so, he started back as if he had been shot, for there, upon the broad step, stood his wife! Bhe looked with surprise upon the face of Dick, who, taking off his hat, saluted her, saying: it Good-night, marm," and went down the steps, breaking out into a low, prolonged whistle, as he walked down the street. "Who is that rude man?" asked Mrs. Heaton, as soon as she had entered the hall, " and why did you not call the servant to * show him out?" "He came with a message, and as I was in the library, I did not care to take the trouble to ring for the servant!"Sydney replied, after a trifling hesitation. "He has a bad face. I have seen him before prowling about the neighborhood, but I did not dream he was looking for you!" she observed, as, gathering her rich robes in her hand, Mrs. Hea- ton passed by husband and went up the broad stairway. Sydney gazed after her a moment, then turning away, again entered the library, and throwing himself into a chair, exclaimed: ( Lost! lost! Her love alone can save me! I' -* OUT OF THE STREETS. 159 CHAPTER XX. HOWt SYDNEY HEATON TRIED TO PURCHASE PEAoE. "How slow the tardy moments seem to roll, Wh1lat spectles rise of inconsistent fear."--MRS. TIGHE. ' DICK WATKINS was punctual at the appointed place the next morning, and as Sydney had not yet arrived, Dick, not caring to waste any time, spent most of that which elapsed before his vic- tim came in calling for gin and drinking it. He was in no very genial humor, as was evident from the surly way in which he addressed the man who dispensed the stuff he drank, as well as from the discontented expression of his vil- lainous face. Something had gone wrong with him, that was certain; for, as he now held Sydney Heaton completely in his power, and could force him, as he thought, to do all that he required, there was no apparent reason why he should not be in good spirits. "Roast her!" he muttered to himself, as he took his seat in one of the small, curtained boxes at the further end of the room, from which he could see any one who might enter the place--"roast her! I was a fool ever to give the docyment and the pictur' back to her! She won't let go her grip of )em now. She wants to play the game herself, and rake the entire pile. But I'll see her d----d first!" and he struck his hand heavily upon the table. The noise summoned the barkeeper, who imagined it was a sig- nal for the exercise of his functions, and on his appearance, Dick wanted to know what he wanted. "I thought you called," the barkeeper said. "Well, you thought wrong," Dick responded, with an oath. "Do you think a man wants to fill himself to the muzzle, with your liquid fiir and brimstone? But, as you are here, bring me some gin-straight, mind! None o' your tricks with water. I want it to cut as it goes down. Do you hear? ' page: 160-161[View Page 160-161] 160 OUT OF THE STREETS. "All right," the barkeeper answered, and going to the bar, he half filled a tumbler with some potent poison, which, both in smell and flavor, was a cruel slander upon the whole juniper family. Just as he placed this delectable beverage before Dick, Sydney Heaton entered the place. Dick saw him at once, and dismissing the attendant with an imprecation on his eyes, rose and beckoned Sydney to come to him. "i Will you take something?" he asked, as Sydney entered the narrow box, and took a seat in the furthest corner of it, with his back to the entrance, so that his face could be seen by no one. "You look out of sorts, and a good stiff horn will set you up." "What have you to say to me?"Heaton replied, taking no notice of Dick's proffered hospitality. "Have you brought the proofs of the statement you made last night?" "Why, you don't think I lied, do you, that you want proofs? And if I had 'em here, do you think I'd put 'em in your hands till the business was all arranged, fair and ship-shape? The boy is all right, the pictur' is all right, and that ere precious docyment is all right, so far as they go. But s'posin'-mind, I say s'posin' -they wasn't all right, Parson Davis lives in South Mitchim still, and so does Tom Bixby, the landlord, and Polly, his wife, and Abner Snaggs, and lots more that knows all about it, and you; and they'd know you in a minute, -if you are older and a good deal changed! I'd only have to say the word to bring the whole pack of 'em about your ears; for, when your wife-I mean Helen Fairly, not the proud beauty I saw again last night, and who slinked away from me, as I passed her, as if I'd been pi'son; though, Lord! how easy I could have give her pride a back fall. But, as I was saying, when your wife was took back to South Mitchim to be buried--" "Thank Heaven for that! I have thought of that! Then, she does not fill a pauper's grave!"Heaton said, sadly. "No; she was buried in the churchyard, and when she was put in her grave, I'll bet everybody there felt bad, 'cause they all liked her--for she did have a purty, winnin' way with her, didn't she? And if they'd ever find out the trick that had been played her,. they'd raise the universe to pay you off for it." - Sydney had grown very restive over this long speech, and when Dick paused, he asked: , OUT OF THE STREETS. 161 "Are those proofs in your possession, or in that of another?" J "They was in my possession a day or two ago I " "Then, they are not now?" No, cuss the luck, they ain't!- More fool me' " "Who has them?" (The party I told you on last night," "The woman? '" "Yes." "Who'is she?" "My sister." "' Your sister?" "Yes; the woman that first put me on your trail by pointing you out." "And she, then, is acquainted with all the facts of which you have informed me, and has the marriage certificate in her posses- ion?" "That's about the size on it." Heaton's face grew more and more troubled as he realized clearly the danger he was in. His secret known to more than one. It was within the power of at least two persons at any moment to expose the base and wicked fraud he had practised, and to hold him up to the con- tempt, the scorn, the execration of the world; and not only so- his social position, his domestic relations, his prospects, his worldly interests, were not only in hourly jeopardy, but his personal lib- erty was at stake; for he knew that Blanche, coldly as she felt toward him, having no consideration, no affection for him, but rather an aversion, would not hesitate, should the scandal be made public, to use every means in her power to revenge her own wrongs and punish him for his audacious and heartless act. A felon's cell stared him in the face, and he shrank from the vision which his reflections conjured up with horror. Fate had woven her meshes completely round him. He lay prone at the mercy of the remorseless, cunning villain who sat opposite to him, in all his hideous repulsiveness; and the thought cowed him, or, following the bent of his natural im- pulses, he would have resorted to any desperate deed to fiee him- self from the thrall of the wily scoundrel, who, having been his creature, was now his master! page: 162-163[View Page 162-163] 162 -OUT OF THE STREETS. As he glanced over toward him and caught a gleam of those villainous features, the thought came strong upon him to lure ,him away and silence him forever! But, even if he had, he would still be in the power of this un- known woman, who might rise up in judgment against him at any time. These thoughts passed, like lightning, through his mind, and he saw clearly that there was no escape for him but to accede to Dick's terms, be they what they might; and, once more turning toward him, and suppressing all outward manifestations of the tempest within him, he asked: "Can you get this paper in your own hands?" "I reckon! ) Dick replied; " of course I kin." "How do you know? Your sister may refuse," Heaton su-g- gested, with a desire to probe the case to the bottom and know what and all he had to expect. "How do I know?"Dick replied, savagely; and, tossing down the as yet untasted glass of fiery liquor which stood before him, at a gulp, as if to add emphasis to his words--" how do I know? Because she knows, if she rode rusty and tried to deal from a cold deck, I'd cut her throat! She knows me well enough to know that, and when I call, she'll see me, sure!" If Heaton had known the exact condition of the relations be- tween Dick and his sister, he would have had even greater cause for anxiety than he felt. Had he known that Dick's boast of his own power and lhis sistnr's fear was but a lie, and that Kate was the more darin g and determined spirit of the two, and that, hard as Dick was to man- age, he was but a mere child compared to the cunning, diplo- matic and fascinating creature whom Dick led him to believe he could frighten into anything, he would have realized a much greater danger than he had as yet suspected-. "I can make no terms," Heaton said, after a moment's reflec- tion, "until those proofs are, at least, in your--possession. I can- not buy what you have not as yet to sell. When will you beo able to put me in possession of them?" "I will get 'em to-night. You can have 'em to-morrow." "Let it be done, then; but somewhere else than here. I should like to see the boy at the same time " OUT OF THE STREETS. 163 "That ain5t so easy! I shouldn't like to take the boy out. H might lose him. It cost me a heap o' trouble to-get hold on him, and he mirght give me the slip and get lost again!" "Where did you find him?"Sydney asked, with considerable interest. ," That was easy enough," Dick replied, "for you see, capt'n, Kate, she kept her eye on him; and when she keeps her eye on anything, she watches pretty close. She knew where he was all the time, from the hour he was born, but she .never -thought it worth her while to bother about the kid, not till she found out whether there was anything to be made out o' him. She had the 'stif'cate and pictur' all the while, too. She was the one, you see, wot took 'em from the poor critter wot died in the Tombs; and when I come back-it's funny how things come about, and how good luck follows bad-it was the same night after I first had that pleasant little confab with you in the little park-I hap- pened to see the pictur'! In course I know'd that, and the 'stif- 'cate, in course I knowed that, too. So we put that and that together, and it amounted to so much, that we concluded the boy would be worth huntin' up, and so we hunted him up and got hold on him, and we've got him now." "Has she the boy, too?"Sydney asked, in surprise "He's in the house she lives in." "Tell me more about him. Where did you find him? Where has he been? Who has cared for him? How has he been brought up? "Ain't it rather late in the day for you to be asking such ques- tions as them?"Dick queried, with a sneer. "None of your taunts!" responded Heaton angrily. "I will not bear them I never knew of the boy's existence until last night, as you well know I " "All right, capt'n. I s'pose it's natural you should have a hankerin' to know something about him, and as it can't do no harm, I'll tell you all I know, if you'll hold on a moment, till I get another sip of gin. My throat iS getting dry!" Dick tossed off the liquor brought to him, and then went on to relate all that Kate had imparted to him concerning the history of young Harry, omitting two things, however-the name by which he had been known on the Island, and the manner in page: 164-165[View Page 164-165] 164 OUT OF THE STREETS. which he had been kidnapped and held a prisoner since the day upon which he had wandered off. Sydney Heaton listened with great interest to Dick's recital, and at its conclusion insisted upon seeing the boy. "Well, I s'pose that's nat'ral, too," Dick responded slowly, and pausing to reflect a moment. "It's running a risk," he muttered, "but I'll chance it. Kate is bound to have a finger in the pie, anyhow, and the business might as well be done there as any- where else." Then turning to Sydney, -he gave him full directions where to find the house, with the understanding that he should be there at twelve the next day, when the matter should be finally settled, if they could agree on terms, and the boy, as well as the certifi- cate of marriage, should be turned over to Heaton, and full ar- rangements made for his security. This settled upon, they separated, Dick pursuing his way back to the house where Harry remained a prisoner, and where, as we have seen, he arrived just in time to frustrate his first attempt to escape. .. OUT OF THE STREETS. 165 CHAPTER XXI. DOUBTS AND FEARS-T--HE ANONYMOUS LETTER. "My day is closed! the gloomy night has--come.,' JOANNA BAILLIE. SYDNEY HEATON went away from his interview with Dick with a heavy heart. From that hour he could never rest secure while he and his sister lived to bear witness against him, for his former. marriage could be proven without' the certificate, should either of them, as Dick had hinted, at any time choose to make the fact of his existence known to the people of South Mitchim. The record of Helen's death, and the time of it, were clear, and could at any time be brought up in judgment against him. All these thoughllts pressed upon his brain and weighed upon his heart, and, coupled with the remorse he felt, nearly over- whelmed him. The news of Helen's death, and the time, place, and manner of it, had fallen upon him like a thunder-clap, when it seemed as if the sky was brightening, and he had begun to experience new feelings, new hopes, and look forward to more happiness. than he had known for years. A new-born love, too, or what he fancied to be love, had sprung up in his heart for Blanche, whom he had never before regarded with any feeling nearer akin to that divine sentiment than pride and passion. This new feeling had cozme upon him- so suddenly, so myste- riously, that when he was obliged to confess it to himself, and ac- knowledge its influence over him, he recognized in it a new and acute source of punishment. How could he ever hope to win her to his heart, to create in her a sentiment reciprocal to his own, with the remembrance of the deep and damning wrong he had done her ever staring him * s + page: 166-167[View Page 166-167] 166 OUT OF THE STREETS. in the face and knocking at the door of his conscience? ^ And if he should-if in course of time he should succeed in changing the current of her feelings for him-if he could change her con- tempt of him, her scorn and indifference, to respect, esteem and love, in what a terrible suspense would he ever be lest his dread secret should be discovered! Then how soon would her love change again to bitter hate, her respect to contempt, and her es- teem return to scorn! But if she truly loved him!--his eye brightened and his heart beat quicker at the thought-could he not confide in her? could he not, after the manifestation of a true repentance, after he had proved the depth and sincerity of his love by his devotion to her day after day-could he not rely upon her love to shield him from the blow which otherwise must fall and crush him? Perhaps! He had heard of what a deep and ardent love might accomplish; of what it might condone, and overlook. The passion he now felt growing in his heart for Blanche seemed to whisper that it was true; that Love outweighed all things; that beside Love all considerations lost their power and full effect; that Love, like Charity; "suffereth all things,' and that, spite of wrongs and outrage, and all the blows which could be struck at it, it lived and grew, and reigned supreme within the heart where it had made its throne I Yes, here, then, was his refuge-here his safety. Here he could defy the wretches who would hound him on to ruin and shame. In the refuge of her love, if he could take but sanctuary, he had naught to fear. , ' It was a glorious hope to him; a hope born of his own selfish- ness. A hope growing out of his fear-the offspring of his peril. A hope which showed how spurious and counterfeit and bare was the feeling in his heart, which he mistook for love; for had he truly loved her, his first impulse would have been to make her reparation for the wrong; to shield her honor and her pure name from spot or blemish; his thoughts would have been for her; his object to save her, to stand between her and the world's bitter tauntings; to encircle her with an impregnable barrier against the tongue of scandal or the breath of shame, and willingly, nay, eagerly, make any sacrifice to do it. OUT OF. THE STREETS. 167 But he would make her love a shield for himself. He would screen himself in :,her weakness. He would save himself by crushing her. He recked not of the shame, the poignant grief, the deep humiliation she would feel, when, loving him most, be- cause she believed him to be worthy of her love; honoring him, because he claimed her honor; clinging to him because she knew him strong and steadfast in his love for her, she heard from his own lips-lips that had wrought her shame with false vows-that he whom she thought worthy was most unworthy; that his lack of honor had dishonored her; and that she had put her faith in one who had been faithless utterly! He thought not with what fearful weight such a discovery would fall upon her heart and crush it. Hle only thought of self. He mistook his self-love for love of her, and resolved to win her affection, that he might profit by it, no matter what she suf- fered. But he did not knowethis; he could not analyze his feelings sufficiently to know it; he felt her love was a necessity-that on it depended his happiness and his security, and he resolved to win it. 7 With these feelings he returned to his home, and once more sought the society of Blanche. He found her in the drawing-room, and with her their only child, Maberly Heaton, a tall lad, who stood by her side with a cross look upon his face,-and who scarcely recognized the entrfarce of his father, save by muttering sullenly the end of the sentence he had begun in a loud and irritable voice, just as Sydney entered the room. "What is the matter, Maberly '?" his father asked, approaching him. "( What has ruffled you?"A ("She has," the boy replied, nodding his head sullenly torWrd his mother. "* That is not the way to speak of your mother, sir!"Sydney said, severely. "You should be more respectful in your words and manner." "Then what does she want to be interfering with a fellow for? I want to take a ride on the pony that grandfather gave me, and she won't let me, because Mike, the coachman, says he's lame. He only says that because he don't want the troublJ of cleaning page: 168-169[View Page 168-169] 1GS OUT OF THE STREETS. him when I come back. He's a lazy loafer, any way, and she encourages him in it.". GI Silence, sir!"Heaton said, angrily.!"You shall not speak so to your mother. I dare say Michael is right." "The last time Maberly rode him," Mrs. Heaton said, quietly, "he came home lame from being overridden, and--" "No, he didn't," Maberly replied, interrupting her in an ex- cited manner. "I didn't ride him too hard. I wasn't going to let Clay Waldron beat me just because he said his pony could run faster than mine; and I bet him a dollar I could beat him, and I did beat him more than a block, going round Madison Square, and I'll beat him again to-day, too, if I go out. I will go out, for the pony ain't lame, and Mike knows it. He don't want to rub him down, and that's why he says he is. I'll tell Grand- father Maberly about him! ,' Your Grandfather Maberly spoils you,' said Mrs. Heaton. "I shall be obliged to tell him how rude and self-willed youi are, if you are not a better boy." "He won't say anything to me," Maberly retorted, pertly; "and if he does spoil me, that's more than Grandfather Heaton does, any way. He never gave me more than sixpence at once in his life, and never gives me as much as that, often." "Go to your room," said Sydney, peremptorily, "Go to your room and remain there till dinner-time." I shan't!" said the young scapegrace, defiantly. "I want to go out on my pony." Sydney looked at Mrs. Heaton, who rang the bell. A servant appeared, and Sydney ordered him to take the refractory young cub to his room. This was easier said than done, for, as soon as he heard the order given, Maberly showed fight; and being active and strong for his age, he contrived to inflict several bruises on the shins of the servant, by upsetting the chairs in contact with his legs, and con- cluded by knocking over a valuable and rare vase, and breaking it into a hundred pieces. After this exploit, he was secured and taken from the room, struggling manfully, and inflicting upon the hands and legs of the suffering menial, bites and kicks without rrymber. &H9 has entirely out-grown my control," said Mrs. Heaton, OUT OF THE STREETS. 169 when they were at last left alone; " what between the petting of his grandfather and the indifference of his father, fe has become entirely unmanageable. He neglects his lessons, he is continually in the streets, associating with all sorts of low boys, and at home he plays the tyrant over the entire house." , With my own reformation I hope to bring about his," Sydney said, quietly. "He needs taming, I see, sadly." ; "He does, indeed; but the task, is beyond my powers. His Grandfather Heaton says he is his father, as he was at his age, over again." "My respected Eire is ever complimentary,!? Sydney responded, with a smile. "I suppose, however, that I was not an angel. Few boys are.' "Or men either," Mrs. Heaton observed. "No,:' said Sydney, 'u I believe not; for it is generally conceded ,that the few angelic qualities vouchsafed to mortals are monopo- lized by your sex."' Blanche bowed with mock politeness, turned away and walked toward the window, but made no reply. As Sydney gazed upon the beautiful and graceful woman, who moved so queen-like and so proudly before him, he pictured her, in his fancy, as she might appear did she know the secret which he was taking so much pains to conceal. The picture was not a pleasant one to contemplate, and he dis- missed it with an effort; and, going to the window by which she was standing, placed his hand gently upon her waist, partly en- circling it, though scarcely touching her with his arm. "Blanche, have you been kind enough to give the words I spoke to you, and the promises I made, last night, a thought?" he said, in a low voice. She turned her lovely face toward him for a moment, her beau- tiful eyes looking full into- his, without one ray of sympathy or feeling in them, and was about to make some commonplace reply, when, feeling his arm about her, her face suddenly became suf- fused, and her eyes lit up, not with love, but anger, as she roughly displaced his hand from her waist, and, taking a step backward said: '"A few hours, Mr. Heaton, do not suffice to eradicate the mem- ories of years; nor can hurried words, spoken from the impulse page: 170-171[View Page 170-171] 170 OUT OF TIE STREETS. of the moment, cause us to forget acts which have left too dee an impression on our lives to be obliterated by mere breath No; I cannot say that I have given our interview of last night a thought. If I had been even so disposed, the presence of that horrid person in this house, whom I met upon the steps, would have prevented it; for I am sure he came here for no good purpose; and, besides, I have been annoyed so much, that I could think of nothing but the cause of it." "What has annoyed you? I hope I am not the cause? ' Syd- ney asked, evidently hurt both by her words and manner. "I do not know why I should bore you with my annoyances; but as there is no one else whom I should like to take into my confidence on such a subject, I trust you will excuse me if I tres- pass on your good-nature so much as to request your perusal of this letter which I have received; it was left at the door this morning. So saying, she took from her bosom a small envelope, and handed it to Sydney. Having done which, she moved away from the window and seated herself in a large arm-chair, where she remained, with her head resting upon her hand, and tapping the carpet nervously with one of her pretty feet. Sydney glanced at the superscription, and his heart sunk within him. It was directed in a neat, female hand. He glanced at Blanche, to see if she were observing him and had noticed the change of color which he felt come over his face. His fears were groundless; she was not heeding him. He turned his back toward her, and, opening the envelope with nervous hands, took from it a note, written on embossed paper, which read as follows.: "MRS. SYDNEY HEATON: "MADAME-You are proud and rich; I am poor and humble. I am in possession of a secret which nearly concerns you and yours, and which, if known, would humble you beneath even me, and place you in such a depth of disgrace that all your riches would not lift you out of it. "The knowledge I possess concerning you, effects your social position, your honor, your good name-all that is nearest and dearest to you. "Shall this secret remain one? It rests with you to decide. I am poor; you are rich. If money has not a higher value with OUT OF THE STREETS. 171 you than your fair fame as a woman and a wife, you will be will- ing to part with a portion of the first to maintain the other, and will address a note, stating your views or appointing an inter- view, to A LYNX, General Post-office, Jersey City." Sydney read the note through, in a frame of mind which we are utterly unable to depict. Its source was evident, and he saw at a glance that Dick and his sister were playing a game against ,each other, as well as against him, or else this missive had been sent with the expectation that it would fall into his hands, and thus make him all the more eager to purchase silence at a high price. He crushed the note in his hand, and controlling all outward emotion by a powerful effort of his will, he turned toward-Blanche, who was still sitting, statue-like, in the position she had at first assumed, and approaching her, said, with forced unconcern: "I hope you have not allowed so shallow a device to extort money as this, to annoy you. Such things are done by designing people in New York every day, and if this is the first time they have made an effort to victimize you, you are more fortunate than many persons whose position is similar to your own! "The person who wrote that note, whoever it may be, is in earnest," Blanche replied, looking into his face, suddenly and searchingly. Heaton had obtained entire control over himself, however, by this time, and never blanched or moved a muscle to betray what was passing within him, and replied, coolly: "In earnest, of course, she or he-for it may be either a man or woman who is anxious to test the length of your purse-is in earnest. Such people always are in earnest, and the way to make them more so, is to pay any attention to them." "Are you sure," she asked, rising and confronting him with a look fall of earnestness and penetrating scrutiny--" are you sure - that this note means nothing more than this?" "I am," he answered. "Certainly! "Are you sure--you will pardon me if I presume upon my knowledge of the past to put the question-that this secret which she speaks of may not concern me through you, and through you alone? Sydney Heaton had nerves of steel and a will of iron, or he could never have withstood this keen assault, for he did with- stand it, and replied, with well affected though slight surprise: page: 172-173[View Page 172-173] 172 OUT OF THE STREETS. "I know not what your suspicions may be. Whatever they are, I am bound to excuse them;- but I trust you will dismiss them from your thoughts. I may have done much to compromise your happiness, but your honor, your fair fame as a woman, never I Do me at least the justice to believe that i " "I shall not so far forget my breeding as to openly refuse to do so," she replied, going once more toward the window; " and shall take your advice in paying no attention to the note. De- stroy it, if you please, and do not refer to it again!" Sydney, far from being entirely relieved, replied: "I am glad to hear you say so. Should this person presume to annoy you again, I will place the affair in the hands of Captain Leopard, of the police. But I think your silence will end the matter."- Sydney stood close beside Blanche as he said these words, and started at hearing her say, not as if in response to him: "It is very strange!" "What is very strange?" he asked. "Do you see that woman on the opposite side of the way?" Blanche asked, earnestly. "I have seen her pass and repass the house every day for a week and more, and she always looks up at this window. The man I met upon the- steps last night did the same thing as regularly as she!" Sydney cast his eyes in the direction indicated, and saw a wo- man, tall and finely formed, and well and even elegantly dressed in black, slowly walking past, with her face, covered with a veil, turned toward the window where he stood. "I see her," he remarked, " but see nothing strange in the fact that she should pass this way. A thousand persons do the same daily, and the idea that a charming-looking woman, such as she seems, should be in any way concerned with the visit of the rough, uncouth messenger of last night, is absurd.' "Perhaps it is," she remarked; "but I have very absurd thoughts sometimes!" "Have you any commands?"Sydney asked, moving to leave the room. "None," she replied. "( You dine at-home?" "(I shall do myself that pleasure," he answered, courteously, and disappeared. {' ; w - OUT OF THE STREETS. 173 CHAPTER XXII. AT FAULT. "----and all day His heart beats awfully against his side."--KEATS. SYDNEY HEATON retired to his room that night with more gloomy forebodings than he had ever experienced before.- The anonymous letter which Blanche had received, the evident sus- picion which she felt that it was in some way connected with him, the appearance of the mysterious woman to whom she had called his attention, and a settled impression, which he could not explain to himself, but which was none the less powerful in its effect upon him, that she was the sister of Dick Watkins, and the author' of the note in question; the quick and subtye conclusion his wife had arrived at, that this woman and the man whom she had met haunted the neighborhood for one and the same reason, and that their purpose, whatever it might be, was connected with himself ;. the strange and searching questions she had put to him, showing that she was lacking in all confidence in him, and pre- pared to believe the very worst that could be brought against him--all these things had their full effect upon his thought, and he realized with painful vividness the frightfulness of the preci- pice upon the brink of which he found himself. As he stood looking from his window out into the darkness of the night-a darkness as vague and impenetrable as that which shrouded his future-the deep reverberations of the fire-bells sounding an alarm fell upon his ear and startled him. Their first deep tones, ringing through the air at regular intervals, sounded like a knell in his ears, and carried him back in imagination to a time when the same sounds had startled him as now; a time when bells are wont to ring a joyful peal to tell of hppiness and joy, but which, as he stood with his lovely bride upon his arm, page: 174-175[View Page 174-175] 174 OUT OF THE STREETS. struck upon his ears with a funereal sound, a vibration following like a stifled wail. Looking far away from where he stood, toward the river, he saw the sky gradually lighten, and presently the bright flames shot upward, high in air, and seemed to dance about in glee. A fire was not a novel sight to him, yet he watched the progress of the conflagration with growing interest, and wondered where it was, whose house it was, whether the people were rich or poor, whether they were insured, and if any lives were lost. His mind dwelt on these things with a strange tenacity; and when at last the flames subsided, the red glare died out of the sky and all was dark again, he turned from the window, and, flinging himself upon the bed, just as he was, he fell into a troubled sleep, in which he dreamed of the fire, of being in the burning house, and started up more than once in great fear and alarm, with a feeling of suf- focation upon him, having dreamed that he was being smothered in the flame and smoke! Rising some hours after, feverish and all unstrung, he started at once to keep his appointment with Dick Watkins, and, as far as lay in his power, to prevent the probability of his betrayal by him or his ]ster. i! He could at any rate silence him for a time, and so put off the terrible denouement he so much feared, and meanwhile fate might remove Dick entirely from his path. "tBut then his sister? She is a woman," he thought. "I can surely deal with her. Let me once rid myself of the man, the woman can be managed easily." I He little knew the being he judged so lightly of. He had never seen those snake-like, sparkling eyes of hers, or he would have judged her differently. Throwing himself into a carriage, he gave himself up to these reflections as he proceeded in the direction indicated by Dick the day before, and was not long in arriving in the neighborhood where the house he sought was situated. But the house itself was nowhereito be seen! The driver had mistaken his directions and had turned into the wrong street. ' Sydney set him right, and the proper locality was reached at last; but when they came to the spot, what was his surprise to o OUT OF THE STREETS. 175 find, in place of the house he was in search of, nothing but a heap of smoldering ruins, around which a large crowd of men and wo- men and vagrant boys had gathered, watching some men who were working vigorously among the ruins as if in search of soime- thing. He looked upon the scene with feelings of the most bitter dis- appointment. He had come there determined to free himself at any price from the hated thraldom of these people, and at the very moment when he thought the consummation of his purpose within his reach, this unexpected barrier rose up before him. Then he thought of the, strange interest he had taken in the., fire last night. How the sound of the bell had startled him, and how he had watched the progress of the flames and their subsi- dence as though he had a personal- stake in the event. Leaning from the carriage window, he addressed himself to a policeman, who stood near by, and asked him when the fire had occurred. "It broke out last night, about half-past twelve o'clock," was the reply. That was the exact time when Sydney's attention had been first called to it by the bell. "Where are the persons who resided here?"Sydney asked. "Well, I can't say as to that. A woman lived here by the name of Stevenson, and her brother, I believe he was, lived with her. He did not get out of the house in time, and in trying to let himself down from one of the upper windows by that tree yon- der, he fell, and was pretty badly smashed up. They took him to the station-house, and as soon as he came to this morning, his sister took him away in a carriage'." "Were there no other persons in the'house?"Sydney asked, with growing interest. "Yes; there was a colored woman-a servant-and a boy. They are looking for him now," said the policeman, pointing to- ward the men who were working in the ruins. "Looking for him! What do you mean?"Sydney asked. "Did not the boy make his escape?" "That's what we don't know. He was a-bed in one o' the upper rooms, and as he hasn't been seen since, it's likely he was burned up. They are trying to find his body. Though I guess, page: 176-177[View Page 176-177] 176 OUT OF THE STREETS if he didn't get out, he was burned to cinders, and they'll never j find enough of him to recognize. The house was old and dry as tinder, and it burned like shavings."' "Great Heaven!" exclaimed Sydney. "How horrible! Poor child! poor boy! What a dreadful fate!!" Just then there was a considerable commotion among the peo- ple who were watching the workmen, and everybody pressed forward to catch a sight of something which had excited their curiosity.* . ! Sydney noticed this, and exclaiming, "Perhaps they have found him," jumped from the carriage, and rushed to the spot. Forcing his way through the crowd which barred his progress, he arrived at the front, and looking down, saw that the workmen had entirely excavated the front portion of the cellar, in which thp remains of the boy would have in all probability been found, if found at all, and now stood resting from their labors, and wiping the perspiration from their streaming brows. "Are there no6signs of the body?"Heaton asked of the man i who stood nearest to him. "None as we se'd,)" the man answered. "He must have either got away, or else has been burned to ashes. All we have found is some brass buttons-which look as if they had belonged to a boy's jacket. Where are they, Jem?" he asked, turning to an- other of the men.- "You found 'ema!" "Here they are," the man responded, taking four or five small buttons, which had. been partially melted by the intense heat, from his vest-pocket.; 5:"I reckon them's all we'll ever see of the boy. It's no use looking any more." Sydney turned away, sickened in soul, from the dismal place, and stood apart from the crowd, by himself, reflecting upon the strange. and awful circumstances by which he was surrounded. His first object. must be to find out the whereabouts of Dick. He must see him in any event, and end the dreadful suspense, which weighed upon him with crushing force. Perhaps, too, he could tell him with more certainty of the boy's fate; so, again addressing himself to the policeman, he obtained the necessary directions where to find. the station-house to which Dick had been carried, and proceeded thither at once. But here, likewise, he was doomed to be disappointed. OUT OF THE STREETS. 1" They could give him no information further than that a man had been brought there the preceding night, suffering and un- conscious from some internal injuries which he had sustained by a fall, in endeavoring to make his escape from the burning house. About ten o'clock, a woman-his sister-who occupied the dwell- ing, came for him and took him away, leaving her address in case she should be wanted. s"oShe left her address, -then?"Sydney exclaimed. i"Yes,"' the officer answered; " here it is-No. 68 White-street." Sydney took a copy of the address, and then inquired if she had said anything in relation to the fate of the boy. "She seemed very anxious concerning him," the officer replied, "but felt sure that he had succeeded in making his escape from the house. She thought he had wandered away, and, as he was new to the city, he had probably lost himself. We have had dili- gent search made among the ruins, but with what result I do not know." "I have just left the scene of the fire," Sydney said, "and nothing had been found except some buttons, which had evidently belonged to a boy's jacket. It is hardly possible that the body could have been entirely consumed." "Possible!" was the response, "but not probable. I am of the opinion that the boy escaped." Thanking the officer for the information he had received, Syd- ney hastened with all speed to the place which the woman had given as her address, but, o n making inquiries at the house indi- cated-a boarding-house of the poorest character-he was once more surprised and mortified to find himself at fault. No such person was known there, nor had- any one answering in any re- spect to the description of the parties been there at all. Thinking there might be some mistake, and determined to leave nothing undone to accomplish his object and relieve him- self of his suspense, Sydney returned to the station-house and related his disappointment. What was his surprise to learn that during his absence the wo- man had returned to the station-house to inform them of the safety of the boy, who had been found, she said, wandering about the streets, and that her brother's injuries had been pro- nounced not of a fatal or even very serious character, and that page: 178-179[View Page 178-179] 178 OUT OF THE STREETS. she had decided to go with him to the country, where they could enjoy the quiet and repose necessary to his speedy restoration, and to her own recuperation, after the terrible excitement and anxiety she had passed through! I "Being satisfied," the officer continued, "of the accidental origin of the fire, I offered no objection to her going away, and she promised to send her address when she had decided upon her destination. I told her that you had been making inquiries about her, Mr. Heaton." "You know me, then?"Sydney asked, in some surprise. "Oh, yes, sir; I have known you a long time," the officer an- swered. ( A gentleman of your position, so generally known in New York, could hardly be a stranger to a man like myself. When I mentioned your name, she expressed some surprise, and seemed quite pleased at the interest you had shown. She said that you would hear from her soon I "Indeed!" said Sydney. "Yes," the officer continued, growing more confidential; " she is a very handsome woman, Mr. Heaton. I never saw a finer- looking woman, nor such a pair of eyes! She is smart, too, and takes her loss, which must have been considerable, with great coolness, though she saved her wardrobe mostly, and her money, jewelry, and some valuable papers. By-the-way, I remember now: shb asked me, if you should call again, to tell you so. She said you would be glad to hear that she had not lost anything besides her furniture and a few ornamental trinkets!" Sydney did not dare to trust himself with a reply to these words, which fell upon his ear like a terrible threat, but simply bowed his head in response. "I am glad to hear that the boy is safe," he said, after a pause; 4' and am much obliged to you for the trouble you have taken!" "Not at all. If I hear anything further I will let you know," the officer responded. "I have your address." "Thank you!"Sydney replied, and left the place, baffled, mys- tified, and sorely troubled. OUT OF TH STREETS. 179 CHAPTER XX:.III. 3UNCERTAIN PEACE. "How vainly seek The selfish, for that happiness denied To aught but virtue!"-SHELLY. FORi weeks Sydney Heaton searched in vain for some traces of Dick and his sister. Nowhere could he gain the slightest clue to " their whereabouts, nor could he in any way account for the sud- den manner in which they had given up their pursuit of him. No more letters came to Blanche; the threat which he felt was contained in the message Kate had left for him at the station- house had not been fulfilled, for he had not heard from her, as she had promised, nor had the people there learned any more of her movements since the day succeeding the fire. By degrees Sydney Heaton's anxiety wore off; his fears were lulled, and a sense of security came over him. He even hoped, after a time, that some fortuitous circumstances had removed these people from his path for ever, and that the secret which he guarded with such scrupulous care was now safe from exposure, unless through some other source than that which he had so much dreaded. He could not dismiss -from his thoughts, however, the remem- brance of the child which the woman he had so wantonly betrayed had left behind her. What would his fate be, left to the guid- ance, an[d brpught up subject to the influences of these two per-. sons whom 'he supposed had him in their keeping? These thoughts occasionally worried him, but they gradually wore off, and, like his fears of exposure, became rempiniseences of the past. This condition of mind was in no small degree superinduced by the- energy with which he had begun to carry out his newly- formed plans; the excitement of his new occupations, and the entire revolution which had taken place in his pursuits anal m a- page: 180-181[View Page 180-181] 180 OUT OF THE STREETS. ner of life. From the reckless, thoughtless spendthrift and de- bauche, he became a staid; steady man of business.- He abandoned his former haunts. He visited gambling hells no more. He was no longer seen upon " the road," or the race- course. He gave up drinking, and devoted himself entirely to business with as much ardor ats he had before devoted himself to pleasure and the gratification of his tastes and passions. His face became familiar in Wall-street. The Board of Brokers learned to welcome him. He began to be looked upon as a rising man in financial circles. His name grew familiar in the mouths of the "bulls " and 4" bears," and his dashing speculations to be talked of. His success was also a matter of notoriety, for whatever he took hold of, in. the way of venture, investment or speculation, turned out well, and he soon came to be looked upon as a man of unusual pluck, judgment and discernment. Most of his speculations, at first, were made upon his own ac- count, but Mr. Samuel Heaton, his gentlemanly father, presently participated in many of them, and thus the good fortune which flowed in upen the son was shared by his elegant progenitor, who became more potent than ever, and with increased means, made the commercial and financial circles ring with the high-sounding names and the seductive promises of unprecedented gains to be realized in any of the new "Companies" and "(Associations" with which his name was connected as the prime mover and or- ganizer. Old Peter Marberly was delighted to witness this surprising change in his son-in-law, and encouraged him, both with his ap- proval and advice, and at last grew to have such faith in him as a shrewd, far-seeing financier, that he was himself even tempted to share also in many of his operations. Thus; in time, the Senior Heaton, Peter M[aberly, and Sydney Heaton, came to be recognized in business circles, if not as a firm, at least as a sort of family "u ring," or combination, to which the well-known wealth of the pushing Peter, the reputed solidity of the gentlemanly Samuel, and the success and boldness of Sydney, gave great strength, and it was regarded in the Street, on 'Change, and at the Stock Board, with all the respect which such a reputa- tion could inspire. Blanche, too, noticed the change in Sydney; but Sydney was OUT OF THE STREETS. 181 unable to notice any great change in her conduct toward him, save that she no longer treated him with the marked contempt which had so long characterized her intercourse with him. She endured his company at home, rarely appeared in society that he did not accomnpany her, and on such occasions, none would have suspected, from any outward manifestation of hers, the true state of her feelings toward him. This feeling continued, in spite of all Sydney's efforts to bring about the change he so much desired-as cold and as thoroughly unsympathetic as it had been before. By no attention, by no assurance-neither by persuasion, by earnest and persistent manifestations of respect, or even of affec- tion, on his part, could he ever succeed in drawing from the beautiful and unimpassioned woman any responsive expression, which, even in his most sanguine moments, he could construe into anything like warmth, or recognize as even a slight ap- proximation to the sentiments which his words and acts avowed for her. She seemed to tolerate him, and that was all. In strict con- formity to her duty as a wife, she recognized her own position and his before the world; but when they were free from observa- tion, when the world was shut out from them, and they were alone, she invariably behaved with studied coolness and distant, courteous politeness toward him. Beautiful and attractive as she was, sought after, flattered, ad- mired, free and genial with all with whom she was associated, the faintest breath of scandal had never tainted her name. She had not indulged even in what is sometimes called " innocent flirta- tion," so common in Society, and, before a jury of her most envi- ous rivals, would have been acquitted on a charge of coquetry, so that Heaton had at least the satisfaction of knowing that, if she did not love him, she loved no one else. The passion so suddenly aroused in his heart for her continued to grow in ardor and intensity, until everything that he thought and did was inspired by one object. He would subdue her proud nature to. himself; he would conquer her coldness and disdain; he would make her hang upon his words and looks,- and allow him to control her very being. She should be his--all bel He f page: 182-183[View Page 182-183] 182 OUT OF THE STREETS. would gain wealth, power, position, everything, to use as a means for inspiring her with admiration for him. Had she been pliant and yielding, the easiness of the task would have robbed it of its attraction, but her open aversion of him was firm and unbending, even to stubbornness. His vanity was wounded, and the wound could only be healed by his suc- Cess. She would not allow him even to touch her hand, or indulge him in the least familiarity, and this utter rejection of him in- flamed the passion he felt for her all the more. To be daily with her; to admire her splendid beauty, her queenly bearing, her voluptuous form; to know that he was an object of envy everywhere on account of this, and still to feel and know that she was his wife only in name, that her beauty was not his own, that there stood between him and his hopes the im- passible barrier of her disdain, nearly maddened him, and he bent every effort of his will to impress her in his favor, and in- i spire her with love. And so time elapsed, and though he prospered in all things else, he prospered not in that. . . s OUT OF TME STREETS, 183 CHAPTER XXIV. OOW THE SON OF THE OUTCAST AND THE DAUGHTER OF THE MLLIONAIRE MET, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. "A rose with all its sweetest leaves yet folded."-BYRoN. MEANWHLE young Maberly Heaton, showing no disposition to avail himself of the opportunity afforded him for acquiring the thorough education it was the chief desire of his mother that i he should possess, and growing every day more and more restive under the control sought to be put upon him, became a source of much anxiety to her, and of great perplexity to Sydney. His disposition was perverse and headstrong; his associations were low, and he was growing up as thorough-paced a young scrape- grace as any in the city. And the little Lady Agnes, of the house of Loxley, how fares she? . Look at her as, in company with her governess, she trips down the broad stone steps of her father's aristocratic mansion. She has grown taller than she was when we saw her last, playing at romps with the dignified and haughty banker in the library. The glow in her soft blue eyes is brighter; there is a sunnier, light Ot1 her beautiful flowing hair, and the smile which accompanies the kiss she sends to her beautiful mamma, who watches her from the window above, is just such a smile as could come only from such a pure, bright., innocent, and angelic face as you see under that bewitching little gipsey hat. She is going out for a walk with her governess. And they take their way toward Union Square, where many little groups of happy children are enjoying themselves in the bright afternoon sunshine. Just before they reach the Park, they meet the great banker, who is returning from his business, walking, for the sake of exer- cise. * - w page: 184-185[View Page 184-185] 184 OUT OF THE STREETS. Agnes sees him from afar, and exclaims: "Oh there's dear papa; come along, Miss Floyd; let's run and meet him." "Young ladies do not run in the street," Miss Floyd remarks, demurely, but slightly quickening her steps. "Well, then," Agnes replies, "I don't want to be a young lady,' if I cannot run to meet my papa when I see him. Come along!" and she drags her governess with her at a pace which gives that exceedingly proper female's ideas of propriety a fearful shock. Mr. Loxley does not see his daughter till just as she is close to him; but when he does, the dignified and serious, if not some- what worried expression of his face, changes to one of pleasant surprise; his compressed lips- spread with a smile, and he stoops down with a word of kindly greeting, and kisses his daughter's smooth, white brow. "We are going to the Square, papa, for a walk. Oh, do come with us!" 'Not now, Agnes. I am going home, where I have an appoint- ment; but I shall be disengaged soon, and I will join you shortly, and we will return home together." "Oh, thank you, papa; that will be so nice. You will find us by the fountain, where the gold-fishes are. That is my favorite place." "I shall find you, Agnes; be sure of that," Mr. Loxley answers with a smile, and patting the pretty little hand he has been hold- ing in his. , "And you'll be sure to come?" "Yes, I will certainly come!" ( Then good-by till I see you there!" she exclaims, as once more she trips gayly along by the side of her governess, while Mr. Loxley proceeds homeward. When, they reached the Park, Agnes found many of her little friends and playmates were there before her, and among those whom she knew was young Maberly Heaton, who was strolling about with some other lads older than himself, and puffing away at a cigar, as though it were the tchief duty andi occupation of his life. When Agnes saw him, he was coming toward her, and she turned quickly to Miss Floyd, saying: "Let us go the other way, please. Here comes Maberly Heaton, OUT OF THE STREETS. 185 and I don't want to speak to him. I don't like him, he is so rough and rude." Miss Floyd granted the request willingly, for she had taken a great dislike to Maberly herself, and they turned round and pro- ceeded in another direction. But Maberly had caught sight of them, and rightly conceiving the reason of their movement, he determined, in a spirit of mis- chief, to defeat their purpose. So saying to his companions, "Just watch me, and I'll show you some fun," he retraced his steps, and as the walk was a circular one, it was not long before he met Agnes again, and before she saw him he ran directly to her, and seizing her hand, shook it roughly, saying: "How are you, Aggy? You tried to run away from me, did you? 1" Agnes's face grew crimson in a moment, and trying to with- draw her hand, she exclaimed, half crying: ("Don't! Let go of my hand, please; you hurt me." "Law! How tender you are!"Maberly replied, still insisting upon holding her hand and again shaking it. "I am so glad to to see you; and when people are glad to see one another they always shake hands." "But I am not glad to see you, and don't want to shake hands. So let go, please!"Agnes retorted, earnestly. Miss Floyd was obliged to interfere, however, before the lad consented to let go of her hand, which he did, saying: "You only say I hurt you because you don't like me, and that's the reason you- run away from me. You always do!" "' Then why do you follow me?" she asked. "I have told you I don't want to walk with you or play with you, and I won't," Agnes replied, turning away from him. "I've a right to walk where I please," Maberly said, following her, " and I choose to walk where you do. I heard ma say one day, when she didn't know that I heard her, that you was to be my little wife and I was to be your husband, and if that's so,. husband and wife ought to walk together," MDaberly answered, impudently. "If you do not go away from us, and stop talking in that man- ner, Master Heaton, I shall inform your mamma," said Miss Floyd. "Who cares if you do?" ' Maberly retorted, with a defiant toss page: 186-187[View Page 186-187] 186 OUT OF THE STlrR TIS, of his head, ' Who are you? You are nothing but a servant. Servants have no right to order me, and I shan't mind you. I'll stay as long as I please." They had meanwhile left the main path, and had reached a part of the grounds less frequented, the only persons there being a half-dozen ragged boys, mostly in the shoe-blackening line of business, who were engaged in a rough and rather bois- terous game of " tag." In pursuance of his declared intentions, young Heaton kept near them, occasionally addressing some rude remark to Agnes or Miss Floyd, and to which the only response which Agnes made was: "I wish pa would come." In a few moments after this Maberly gave a loud shout, and, pointing in the direction of the southern side of the square, ex- claimed: "Oh, see, there's a mad dog!" and immediately ran away, laughing. Agnes looked in the direction and saw a tremendous New, foundland dog rushing directly for them, and presenting to her frightened senses a terrible appearance. She screamed and clung to Miss Floyd, who, as badly fright- ened as Agnes herself, stood perfectly still, without even attempt- ing to get out of the way. The animal was coming straight toward them, foaming at the mouth, and snapping and biting right and left. In another moment he would have been upon them; but just before he reached them, one of the boys who had been playing tag threw the box in which he carried his brushes at him, and, swerving to snap at the box, the dog changed his course and turned off toward the, left into the more frequented parts of the square. Agnes and her governess stood petrified with fear, watching the animal as he dashed in among the people, who were in the vicinity of the fountain, creating the greatest fright and excite- ment, Men and boys took to their heels in wild alarm; children clung to their nurses, who, like Miss Floyd, were rendered mo- tionless by their fears, while others set up terrific screams, and OUT OF THE STREETS. 187 the cry of J"]Mad dog! mad dog!" came shrieking out from a hundred throatso The dog ran on in a straight course for a short time, and then turned again in the direction of the fountain, from whence he, once more, came toward the place where Agnes and Miss Floyd were still standing. He came tearing down the path, making directly for them, when just as he had reached within a few yards of them, the same boy who had thrown his box at the dog before, now dashed forward, and, standing directly in front of Agnes, waited a moment for the near approach of the animal, and, as he came up, launched a large and heavy stone which he held in his hand directly upon him, striking him full in the head. The dog fell instantly to the earth, stunned, while the boy, re- gaining possession of the stone, once more cast it with all his force upon the dog's head, killing him, just as Mrr. Loxley arrived, minus all his dignity, and in a state of great excitement, and caught his daughter, who was nearly senseless through fear, in his arms. He carried her to one of the seats, where, with the assistance of Miss Floyd, who had recovered her presence of mind suffi- ciently to send a boy to the nearest hydrant for some water, little Agnes soon came round, and, throwing herself into her father's arms, burst into a flood of tears. After assuring himself that no harm had come to her, save through her great fright, Mr. Loxley inquired for the boy who had killed the dog. "I came up just in time to see it all," he said, patting his daugh- ter's head and soothing her. "He is a brave, manly fellow, and I should like to speak to him." "I do not see him here," said Miss Floyd, looking everywhere in the crowd by whom they were surrounded. "Oh, please, papa," Agnes exclaimed, looking up into his face with her tearful eyes, and suppressing her .sobs--"oh, please, papa, send for him! I want to thank him, for I am sure if it had not been for him that terrible dog would have torn me to pieces i " "I know him," exclaimed a ragged urchin, giving his nasal organ a rough wipe with the sleeve of his ragged jacket- "I know him! He's over yonder." page: 188-189[View Page 188-189] 188 OUT OF THE STREETS. "If you will find him and bring him here, I will reward you. well," said Mr. Loxley, turning to the speaker. I'll fetch him in a minute," the boy replied, inspired by the prospect of the reward. "Hold on till I come back!" and he darted away through the crowd. He found Agnes's preserver a short distance off, just gathering up his box and brushes to go away. After killing the dog, from whose fury his courage and presence of mind had twice rescued the young girl, and seeing Agnes taken away by her father, he had left the scene of his brave exploit, upon which ]Maberly im- mediately arrived, and who, after being assured that the dog was really dead, continued pelting the defunct animal with stones, until a tardy policeman arrived, removed the carcass, and dis- persed the valiant M[aberly and his shouting companions. "The gal's father wants to see you," exclaimed the ragged mes- senger, slapping the boot-black on the badk. ' He sent me after you, and said he'd gi' me something for fetching you. He wants to gi' you something, too; so come right away 1 " "I haven't got time," said the boy. "r I've got to go down to the Astor House. My customers will be waiting for me," and he commenced moving off. "Oh, come back!" exclaimed the messenger, fearful of missing the promised reward. W" hat do you want to fool a feller that way for? If I don't bring you -back to him, he won't gi' me nothink!" "( Go back and see the man, why don't you?" urged several of his companions. "You'rn a fool!" Thus urged, the lad turned round and proceeded, followed by his companions, toward the place where Mr. Loxley was waiting for him, and, the messenger leading the way, and forcing an en- trance through the crowd which still surrounded them, he pushed the lad he had been sent for forward, exclaiming, in great exul- tation : "Here he is, sir! This is the boy wot killed the dog! ' Mr. Loxley recognized him in a moment, and rising, patted him upon the shoulder, saying: '"You are a brave lad! You have saved my daughter from be- ing hurt; perhaps from a dreadful and horrible death. She wishes to thank you " OUT OF THE STREETS. 189 "Oh, yes," Agnes added, having ceased crying, though still very nervous and excited,;-"I am so -thankful to you, you don't know! It was so good and kind of you i I shall never forget it as long as I live!" and she held out her pretty, delicate little hand toward him. But the boy only gazed into her beautiful face with his large, bright eyes, while a deep blush overspread his cheeks till they were as red as scarlet, and he stood twisting his dirty hands to- gether in a state of great embarrassment. "Won't you shake hands with me?"Agnes said, reproachfully, still holding her hand toward him. "I'm afraid mine are too dirty!" the boy stammered out at last. "Never mind the dirt, my little man," said Mr. Loxley, en- couragingly. "Do as she asks you." Thus urged, the boy managed to master his embarrassment sufficiently to place the tips of his fingers within her palm, which the grateful Agnes had barely a chance to press gently before he again withdrew them, and thrust them into his pockets. "What is your name?"Mr. Loxley asked, smiling on the boy who had the courage to kill the dog at great personal risk, but who now looked so frightened and ill at ease in the presence of her whom he had been the means of preserving from the danger she had been in. * "My name is Harry Wright!" the boy answererd looking Mr.. Loxley full in the face, with a frank expression,- and free- from the shyness which had so embarrassed him when addressed by Agnes. ' "You are a shoeblack?" "Yes, sir.") "Where do you live? ' "Nowhere in particular. I sleep at the lodging-house and eat where I can." " Have you no parents?" "No, sir. I never had any, that I remember. I have been told they both died when I was a baby." "Poor boy ' " said Agnes, in a soft, sympathetic voice. "He has no papa or mamma. Oh, do take this!"And, drawing a pretty ring from her finger, she held it out to him. "4 1o, I thank you; I'd rather jot," Harry answered. "I don't want it! ' ^* page: 190-191[View Page 190-191] 190 OUT OF THE STREETS. "a I shall think you are not glad that you killed the dog if you don't," she urged, i" and shall be sorry. Please take it." Harry stole a glance once more at her beautiful face, and, see- ing how earnest she was, and that the tears were standing in her eyes, just ready to overflow, he looked at Mr. Loxley, who smiled approvingly; and then; reaching out his hand, he took th ring from Agnes, saying: "I will take it to remember you by, miss, if you will let me; but I don't want to take it as a reward!" "Oh, no; it is not half nice enough for that," Agnes answered, pleased that he should take it on any terms. "Take it to remem- ber me by-to remind you that I shall always be thankful to you, because I am sure I always shall be!" Harry took the ring and put it in his pocket, and, saying, "Thank you!" turned to go away. "Stay!" said Mr. Loxley, who had been attentively watching every movement of the lad, as if uncertain exactly what to do. "Stay a moment I I should like to talk further with you, Harry. Will you come and see me? I live not far from here. I should like to say more to you than I can say in this place. Will you come to my house this evening? ' "Oh, no, papa!"Agnes exclaimed clapping her hands. "Let him go now! Don't wait till to-night; let him come now, won't you?l") "$ If he has no objection," -Mr. Loxley replied, after a moment's thought. "1 Miss Floyd, will you oblige me by calling a coach? You will find one at the end of the park, opposite the hotel." Miss Floyd started upon her errand, and Mr. Loxley, turning to Harry, said: "What do you say? Will you go home with me now?" Harry surveyed himself from head to foot. His clothes were soiled and ragged, and his whole exterior was in a most pictur- esque condition of dilapidation. After completing this inspection of himself, he shook his head, saying: "I'd rather not, sir. I ain't fit to go into any gentleman's house except to black his boots!" (' Tut, tut! Never mind how you look; that is my affair more than yours," Mr. Loxley urged; "I shall not detain you a mo- OUT OF THE STREETS. 191 ment longer than you wish to remain; and I hope you will do as I and my daughter request!" Harry hesitated still, but, receiving a sharp punch in the side from the elbow of one of his companions, turned and held a short consultation with him. The conversation was conducted in a whisper, and was quite earnest its character, and finally ended by Harry's disencumbering himself of his box and brushes, and handing them to his companion. Then, turning to Mr. Loxley, he said: "( Jemmy Filt will take care of my box, and if you'll let me come back in a little while, I'll go!" By this time Miss Floyd had returned with the information that the carriage was waiting for him at the gate, and, patting Harry on the shoulder, saying, ,' That's right; come with us!" Mr. Loxley turned to leave the square. "I say, mister," exclaimed the anxious youth who had been sent after Harry, "you ain't a-goin' off widout givin' me what you promised, are you? I brought the boy back, and you said you'd gi' me a reward. Where's de reward?" "Oh, I forgot!" said Mr. Loxley, taking a dollar front his pocket and giving it to the boy. "' Here's a dollar for you, and I'm much obliged to you into the bargain." The boy stuck the dollar into the corner of his eye for a mo- ment, for ( luck," and then put it in his pocket, while Mr. Loxley, holding Agnes by the hand, and followed by Harry and Miss Floyd, proceeded to the carriage. He lifted Agnes in, assisted Miss Floyd to enter, and then, turning to Harry, who looked as if he was just going to run away, told him to follow. But the boy hung back, saying: "Tell me where you live, and I'll come to the house. I don't want to ride!" "Nonsense!" exclaimed Mr. Loxley, catching him by the arm and half forcing him into the vehicle, quickly following himself. "That's right, papa," said Agnes, as the coachman closed the door. ( I am sure he was just going to run, away. Take care he don't jump out of the window." And, amid the cheering of the crowd, the coach drove off, leav- ing Harry's companions in a state of great admiration and de- light at the distinction which had fallen upon their favorite chum. page: 192-193[View Page 192-193] 192 OUT OF THE STREETS. CHAPTER XXV. 'DICK WATKINS COMES TO GRIEF. J "The tiger, darting fierce. Impetuous on the prey his eye hath doomed."--THo sof. Oel the night of the fire, which we described in a previous chapter, Mrs. Bolton, or, as we prefer still to call her, Kate Pritch- ard, by which name she was first introduced to the reader, was rescued from the flames by the efforts of her faithful servant Rose, -the colored woman, who dragged her out of the suffocating and scorching atmosphere of the room, where the flames originated, into the air, where, in a few moments, she returned to conscious- ness. On coming to her senses, and recognizing at a glance the true state of affairs, her first thought seemed to be for the proofs of Sydney Heatonas previous marriage, and she placed her hand upon her bosom, where they were concealed, to assure herself of their safety. Satisfied upon this point, she set about saving such of her prop- erty as she could, and under her direction, two or three policemen, and some other persons, who had been already attracted to the spot, her trunks, containing the greater portion of her wardrobe and her jewels, together with many of the most valuable of the smaller ornaments with which the house had been decorated, were rescued from the flames. This accomplished, she made inquiries after the boy. But nothing had been seen of him, and she made 'up her mind that Dick had rescued him from his perilous situa- tion, and had'taken him to a place of safety. What was her surprise and anxiety, therefore, when she heard from the mouth of Rose that Dick had fallen, in trying to make his escape, from the window above, and had been taken away in OUT OF THE STREETS. 193 a state of insensibility, and to all appearance dreadfully, if not fatally injured. Then her anxiety in regard to the boy recurred, and a feeling of deep regret and remorse came over her, for, bad as she was, and deceitful and treacherous as had been her treatment of him, she had really liked him from the first time she had seen him on Randall's Island, and had on more than one occasion come to high words with her cruel and desperate brother concerning his rough and tyrannical treatment of him. The thought that he had perished in the flames-horrified her, and she at once set several persons, Rose among the rest, to search for him. Rose, as we have seen, had nearly succeeded in ferreting the boy out, but for his discovery of her first, and getting out of the way; aneawhen, at last, she and the others gave up the search, Kate gathered together the property she had been able to save from the fire, and removed it with herself from the scene. She proceeded at once to a house in- Sullivan-street, where a woman, with whom she was acquainted resided, and passed the remainder of the night. In the morning, her anxiety for the safety of the boy, and her fear lest Dick, on recovering his consciousness, if he ever did so, would say or do something which might compromise or betray her, increased, and at an early hour she proceeded, first to the scene of the fire, and afterward to the station-house, where, find- ing Dick in a more favorable condition than she expected, she persuaded him, with the permission of the officer, to accompany her, and so returned with him to the house where she had taken temporary shelter.' Here she learned from Dick, to her great relief, that Harry had made his escape by means of the tree by the window, and learned also of Dick's interview with Sydney Heaton, and of the appointment he had made with him to meet him at the house that morning. On receiving this intelligence, she quickly made up her mind what to do, and returning to the station-house after Sydney had made his first inquiries there, she told the story which he heard, and left the message, with the officer, for the purpose of throw- ing him off the scent, as to her real movements, and to prevent page: 194-195[View Page 194-195] 194 OUT OF THE STREETS. further inquiry on his part in regard to the boy, whom she hoped to regain, believing, rightly, that he had wandered away. For several days she caused strict search to be made for the boy, and even went so far as to send a shrewd messenger to Ran- dall's Island, to learn if he had returned there. They knew nothing of him on the Island, except that he had run away, im- mediately on his arrival in the city, and had not been heard of since. She then extended her investigations to Peter Pivot's establish- ment, sending a messenger there to inquire if the boy he had advertised as lost had yet been found. "No; worse luck!" was the response of the undertaker to the person who asked the question. "I have 'eard neither 'ide or 'air of 'im, and what has become of 'im is more than I can tell. I don't believe the boy ran away, not a bit of it, for a man in the 'otel saw 'im go to look -at the soldiers, and he must have followed them h'off, and so. got lost. i"Whatever can 'ave come to him I don't know," Peter con- tinued in a melancholy manner. "He was a nice lad, with just the physamogony for business, and would have made a delectable h'undertaker. I'm 'most worried to death about 'im, and Mrs. Pivot, too, poor woman, who was confined with her tenth that very day, which made it more 'arrowing. I had taken a fancy to that boy. He had such an ingenious and open face, and the most amiable and 'eterogeneous disposition I ever saw. But he'll meander to the surface some day, I'm sure, and I know the mo- ment he does he'll find out my address and come to me." "He may have been found and taken in by some one," the mes- senger suggested. "I shouldn't wonder," Peter replied. "I have thought of that! The soldiers went over the river, and I shouldn't wonder if he had debarked with 'em, and is somewhere in Jersey in the propin- quity of the city!" With this information Kate was obliged to rest satisfied, and giving up all hopes of finding the boy at present, she began to consider how she could use the knowledge she had of his pater- nity to the best advantage. Before she took any further steps, however, she determined to get Dick out of her way. OUT OF THE STREETS. 195 His presence was hateful to her, and as long as he remained near her he was not only liable to thwart her schemes, but to compromise her in various other ways. Besides, she had drawn from him all the information he was able to give her in relation to Sydney Heaton's previous marriage, and all -the circumstances attending it; and as she held in her own hands sufficient proofs to make out a full case against him, and place him entirely in her power, there were no good reasons, to her mind, why Dick should share in the harvest she expected to reap by practising upon Sydney's fears. She could, too, bring the affair to a more successful and profit- able issue without him, and had already commenced working upon Sydney, by writing the letter which we have seen to Blanche, from which some practical result would have already been real- '[zed but for the unfortuitous occurrence of the fire, and the loss Df the boy, which had disarranged all her plans. Acting under these impulses, within a few days, Dick being by this time somewhat recovered from the effects of his accident, she proposed to him that he should be removed to some other place, the woman of the house objecting, so she told him, to allow him the use of the room for a longer period. Dick objected to this, saying: "You want to get me out o' the way and take things into your bwn hands.! But you just try it, and curse me if I don't make you sorry for it as long as you live-if you live ever so long after it-which you won't! Besides, I'm nice and snug here, and no- body kin find me. I heard the day after I left Heaton, that they was a-looking for me to carry me back to Californy, and it's lucky I did hear it, 'cause I felt so safe they might a' nabbed me." After hearing this, Kate's face assumed a thoughtful expres- sion, and that wicked, devilish light shone in her eyes brighter than ever. It had evidently inspired her with an idea, which would, perhaps, have been better for Dick if it had not entered her beautiful head. "Why don't you act on the square?"Dick continued, not no- ticing the effect of his last remark upon her. "Why don't you send for Heaton here, or let me send for himn? The trick can be worked here just as well as anywhere else. He's only waiting for a chance to come down with a plie?" page: 196-197[View Page 196-197] 196 OUT OF THE STREETS "Because I do not choose!" she answered. "I'm in no hurry! The affair will keep! And there is no danger of my losing sight of him. Once for all, you must leave here to-morrow!" "I'll see you -- first!" was Dick's emphatic answer, as his sis- ter left the room. When she had gone, however, Dick began to reflect. If he left the place he was then in he should be more free to act for himself than when subjected to her sharp espionage. Here she would allow him to write no letter, to send no message; but by himself, free from her watchful eyes, he could send for Heaton, might even go, weak as he was, to see him, secure -the money he could force from him, and get away out of the city, and thus escape the pursuit, which, from the information he had obtained, he felt sure had been commenced, with the view of running him to earth, and sending him back to California to answer for the numerous and heinous crimes he had committed there. These ideas had the effect of causing the outlaw to alter his mind, and he sent for Kate, and informed her of the conclusion he had arrived at, disguising as adroitly as he could the real reasons which had influenced him. The only terms he wished to make were, that he should choose the place to which he should be removed, and the other was, that Kate should not know his retreat, and should only come to him when he sent for her. Kate- was only too glad, for reasons which she kept to herself, to gain his consent on any terms, so gave her promise to all that he required, readily, and the arrangements were made for his removal that night, for, under the circumstances, Dick did not like to court observation by going out in the daytime. Accordingly, a little before midnight, a carriage was procured, into which the outlaw, very weak, and suffering much pain from the effort, was assisted by his affectionate sister, and driven away under some whispered directions which he gave the driver. But the carriage had not turned the corner before Kate, in a disguise which she had prepared already to her hand for the oc- casion, and which completely changed her appearance, started in the same direction; and as she reached the next street, up which OUT OF THE STREETS. 197 the vehicle had turned, another carriage, which had been standing a short distance off in the shadow, drove quickly up. She flung open the door, and the driver, who had evidently receiv- ed his instructions previously, started his horses and followed the route which Dick had taken, remaining sufficiently in the rear to avoid suspicion. Kate's driver kept the preceding vehicle in view, and .followed it across the city, and so to Frankfort-street, down which narrow thoroughfare, now quite deserted, it continued its course to Franklin Square. Crossing this at its upper extremity, the carriage turned into Cherry-street, along which it moved slowly, as though Dick were uncertain of the exact locality he was looking for. Kate saw this from the window, and, ordering the driver to stop on the corner of the square, she alighted, and, after looking about her to see that she was unobserved, she moved quickly, but stealthily, after Dick's carriage. It continued its slow course for some little distance, and at last stopped in front of a large, dilapidated house, from the cellar of which the sound of music, the shuffling of feet, and the occasional loud voices of men and women, proceeded, indicating that a dance was going on. On the ground floor the lights were burning dimly behind the red curtains which covered the windows and door, the latter being shut. Kate had taken up her position in the shadow of the doorway of a house within a few feet of the carriage, and distinctly heard Dick say to the driver: "Give two raps twice on the door, and when the man comes, say, I Captain Jack has lost his bearings ;'. now mind."' "All right!" the driver responded, and did as he was directed. The man who came to the door was a large, stalwart ruffian, dressed in sailor trousers, with a flaming red shirt, unbuttoned at the throat, covering his brawny shoulders. When he heard the words which Dick had dictated spoken by the driver, he started slightly in surprise, and then, quickly re- covering himself, peered into the street, and seeing the carriage, went out and looked into it cautiously, at the same time stealthily drawing a pistol from his pocket and keeping it concealed in his hand. , page: 198-199[View Page 198-199] 198 OUT OF THE STREETS. It's me, Jack of the Gulch I Don't you know me?"Dick said, in a low voice. ( The hounds are after me 1 Have you got a hole where you could stow me away " i' is Certainly, captain," the man replied; "( we've been expecting you. Come in, quick!" 'd That ain't so easy. Here, give us your arm," Dick muttered, as, groaning with pain, he slowly emerged from the carriage. The landlord supported him and led him to the door, through which they passed into the house, closing and locking it behind them, and the carriage was driven away. As they disappeared, Kate glided like a shadow from her hid- ing-place, and sped rapidly back toward the carriage, which she reached without being molested or observed, and once more en- tering the vehicle, she gave orders to be driven to the place from which she had started. "Why should I hesitate?" she thought to herself, as she sat absorbed in her reflections in a corner of the carriage. "Why should I feel any compunctions about doing this thing? Were it essential to his purposes to betray me, he would do it in a mo- ment, without regret, without remorse! His absence is necessary to me! I am not safe while he is near me; he would sell me to- morrow if he could gain anything by it, or for spite or revenge, if he could not. What matter whether he meet his fate a few days or months sooner or later? He must meet it some time, and as well now as at any other!"I By the time she had arrived at these conclusions, the carriage stopped before the house in Sullivan-street, and she proceeded immediately to her room, where, throwing off her disguise, she sat down and wrote the following letter: 6, CAPTAIN JAMES LEOPAP D: "DEAR SIR-You are looking for an escaped felon from Cali- fornia, known as Jack Wilson, alias Jack of the Gulch. "He is in the city. If you desire to find him, meet the writer of this in the City Hall Park, at the western gate,- to-morrow night, at ten o'clock, and you shall receive all the information you wish. "I shall meet you in disguise, which I shall exact, a promise from you to respect, and that you will be content with the infor- mation I shall give you, without seeking to know the author of it f you are willing to pledge your honor to this, tIf you are willing to pledge your honor to this, I shall be OUT OF THE STREETS. 199 made aware of the fact by your being on the steps of the Astor House at half-past three this afternoon, where you will not escape the eyes of ARGUS. "N. B.-You will know me by a question I shall ask : Does the wind blow from the west? ' This written, she retired, and in the morning sent it by a faith- ful messenger. Firm and unyielding in her purpose, -though by her act sho might be betraying her own brother to the gallows, she passed the Astor House at the appointed hour, and, as she expected, recog- nized the good-looking and shrewd Captain Leopard at his . post. ! She knew him well enough to know that having thus tacitly pledged his honor to accept the information she had made np her mind to impart to him on the terms she had proposed, that he would keep faith with her, and unless he saw through her dis- guise, from some short-sightedness of her own, that she was per- fectly safe from detection, and that neither Captain Leopard him- self, nor Dick, would ever know who had betrayed him into the hands of his pursuers. As the hand on the dial of the City Hall clock pointed to the time ageed upon, Kate was at her post, and so complete was her disguise, both in dress, manner, bearing, and speech, that Dick himself would not have known her. Theo gallant captain did not keep her waiting long, but came upon the spot so soon after her that it was fair to presume he was on the lookout. He passed her without noticing her, and waited a few steps off for a moment, then returned, and was about passing her again, when stepping up to him, she asked, in a voice entirely foreign to her natural tones: "Does the wind blow from the west?" The captain stopped instantly, and replied at once. with great coolness: "It sets in that quarter!" "We will not waste time in words," Kate began, as soon as he had spoken. "If you wish to know what I have to tell come with me!" ' Wherever you please, my lady! Lead the way, and I'll fol- page: 200-201[View Page 200-201] 200 OUT OF THE STREETS. low. But no tricks I On the first indication that it is a put up job for me, I shall consider my promise void, and shall act ac- cordingly."' s"You have nothing to fear," she answered. "I shall fulfill my promise, and I know if I do, that you will fulfill yours!" "I have pledged my honor, you know," Leopard responded, gallantly, "( and I cannot forfeit my word, especially with a lady. Now to business. Please proceed. I'll not lose sight of you, I assure you." "Without another word, Kate led the way, the captain walking close by her side, across the Park, down Frankfort-street, and by the same way that she had followed Dick the night before. Not a word was spoken till just before they reached the house in which Dick had sought refuge, when she said, in a low voice, but without stopping: "When I cough three times, we shall be in front of the house in which he whom you seek is concealed." - "All right," Leopard answered, in a suppressed tone. "I'll keep both eyes and ears open." A few steps brought them in front of the house. - The dance was still going on in the cellar; the dim light still burned behind the red curtains in the windows of the ground-floor. Kate observed this, and coughed three times. Leopard cast his eyes carelessly toward the house, taking a pho- tograph of it in his mind during that brief glance, and kept c,1 his way with Kate, who made no pause, nor spoke another word until they had reached Catherine Market, which she entered froim the upper end, and stopping, when she had reached a spot which the light from the street lamps did not penetrate, she asked, in the same disguised tones which she had used before; "Did you note the house?" "Yes," he replied, it and know it well. It is just such a place as he would be likely to hide in. It is a well-known crib, kept by an old scoundrel named' Bumming Lame Bill,' an English counterfeiter and burglar. So Jack Wilson, or Captain Jack of the Gulch,' is hiding there! You are sure?" "Yes. He went there last night. He is very weak from 'an accident he met with some days ago, and will not be able to give you much trouble," Kate answered. OUT OF THE STREETS. 201 "s Oh, I should be able to manage him if he were himself, and twenty time Jack Wilson! He'll find that out, I'll warrant, if he tries any of his nonsense!" ? I saw him enter that house last night. He gave a signal, two distinct raps, twice upon the door, which was opened by a rough- looking man. The only words spoken were, ' Captain Jack has lost his bearings!"' "(I shall remember," the captain answered. "Then my promise is fulfilled," Kate said, "and I will return. You will not follow me?" "I shall do nothing of the kind, I assure you. What your ob- ject has been in making this revelation to me, I do not know, and shall not inquire. I believe your information to be reliable, and to have been made in good faith. If it is so, you may rest assured that by this time to-morrow, Jack Wilson, or ' Captain Jack of the Gulch,' will be on his way to justice, with as pretty a pair of steel bracelets upon his wiry wrists, and as tight a chain to his sturdy legs, as ever decorated a scoundrel! That I promise you. If you find any compensation in it, you are welcome to it, and such other as the information you have given may prove to be worth." "I desire no compensation-not even thanks," she answered. "What I have done, I have done for objects - and reasons of my own. Good-night!" Bat as she was turning to go, he called her back, saying: "One thing more. Do not breathe a word of this to any one. All must be kept secret. There are others of the gang to which Jack belongs whom we are trying to get.- Should they hear of Jack's arrest, they will be on the alert and give us the slip. Do you understand?" "Perfectly," she answered. "There is no fear of me. Good- night! "Good-night!" the captain responded, politely, and the pair separated in opposite directions. Captain Leopard kept his word. The information he had re- ceived proved to be correct in all particulars; the arrest was made without difficulty, and quietly, and the steamer which sailed for California the next day bore Dick Watkins, a manacled prisoner, to the golden shores of the Pacific. page: 202-203[View Page 202-203] 202 OUT OF THE STREETS.- But Dick was at no loss to guess the source to which he was indebted for this unexpected impediment so opportunely thrown in the way of his enterprising career; and before he left, he wrote a letter to St. Louis, which he deemed would prove a fitting re- turn for the treachery which had betrayed him, and which in its Effect would gratify even his devilish thirst for vengeance, as we rhll see. OUT OF THE STUREETS, 203 CHAPTER XXVI. JFASCINATIO. r. Trust not the treason of those smiling looks,"-SPENSER. KATE returned to her hiding-place-for such the house in Sul- livan-street really was-and going to her room, divested herself of the disguise which she had worn, threw herself upon a sofa, and indulged in a retrospective contemplation of what she had done. She felt no remorse, no sorrow; not the slightest compunction of conscience. .The absence of Dick had appeared necessary to her own safety. The scene which had taken place in the house up-town, and his desperate conduct on that occasion, had opened her eyesto the danger of association- with him in any of her schemes, and she had betrayed him to his enemies, and to a felon's cell, if not to death, in self-defence, and this excuse was sufficient to reconcile her to the act. Now that it was accomplished, she breathed freer. She could carry out her plans in regard to Sydney without interference, and without accountability to any one. These plans were deeper than Dick had known or dreamed of. He thought only of money-of a present and temporary benefit to be gained through the secret which he possessed-but Kate looked for higher and more permanent advantages. She had managed to gain a thorough knowledge of Sydney's social posi- tion. She had learned the peculiarities of his character and dis- position, and she had acquainted herself with the exact relations which existed between him and Blanche. With this knowledge, what might she not accomplish? She had scarcely made up her mind, as yet, what course she should pursue, or in what manner, or by what means, she should turn her knowledge to account, She hd scrcel madeup hr mid, a yettwhatcoure sh page: 204-205[View Page 204-205] 204 OUT OF THE STREETS. As she had told Dick, she was in no hurry to push matters to a crisis The secret would keep, and, meanwhile, she could perfect and mature her plans. But man proposes and God disposes; and while Kate was cun- ningly contriving against Sydney Heaton's peace and purse, the Iettei which Dick Watkins had sent to St.- Louis on the 'day of his salling for California had effected the object which Dick had in sending it, and thus the very means which she had taken to make herself secure, led, in the end, to her discomfiture. UTntil now, she had held no intercourse with Doctor Bolton, nor had she written to Narr & Chambers to inform them of her ad- dress, but within a few days after she had assured herself that Dick had been arrested on her information, and was really gone, she wrote a note requesting the payment of the sum stipulated to be paid by her husband, and directing it to be sent to her ad- dress at Jersey City, where she determined to take up her residence for the time, and where she had engaged lodgings. Within a few days she received a reply, stating that Doctor Bolton desired to have a final interview with her, and would wait upon her at her residence upon any day which she might tfame. -This information was a source of no little surprise to Kate, and it was some time before she could make up her mind whether she -should receive the doctor or not. Why should he desire to see her? What could he have to say, after his discovery of her theft of the diamonds, and after her mur- derous and treacherous attempt upon his life? Had he, on reflection, determined to carry out his original purpose, and send her away? She would not go if he had. But in the event of her refusal, he might expose her conduct-he might appeal to the law to punish her. He might, but would he? Knowing how sensitive he was, how much he prized his reputation, and how careful he had ever been to keep his knowledge of her true character, and the unhappy relations which existed between them, from the knowledge of the world, Kate could not think that he would be tempted to resort to such a course under any circumstances, As she sat, with the letter in her hand, turning the matter over in. her mind, and occasionally glancing into the mirror opposite OUT OF THE STREETS. 205 her, and which reflected her dangerous and fatal beauty, she was rather inclined to believe, that, notwithstanding all that had oc- curred; notwithstanding the manner in which she had treated him; in spite of his discovery of her dishonorable conduct; of his knowledge of her selfishness and total want of respect for either himself or his name; in the face of the mortification he had experienced at finding the affection he had for so long manifested toward her thrown back upon him and rewarded with coldness and contempt, she was still prompted to believe that he had been unable to break loose from the'fascinations with which she had emeshed him; that he was still the slave of her beauty; and that he would, even now, be willing to condone the past, for the assur- ance of a change in her conduct and feeling toward him in the future. She knew the power she had once held over him, and the thought that she had not lost that power even yet, when she had shown her true character to him boldly, was pleasant to her; it flattered her vanity, and she chose to accept the idea as account- ing for his desire to see her again. Besides, she had only abandoned him as she had, because she deemed that he could no longer serve her as the means of grati- fying her pleasures and her luxurious tastes; and if he could, through his weakness for her, be still made the instrument of con- tributing to her selfishness, so much the better, and she would win him back if she could. "But he shall pay for it," she thought. "I will make my own terms; and if he found me exacting before, he shall find me still more exacting now." Having come to this conclusion, she answered the lawyer's let- ter, and appointed a time for the interview. When the evening arrived, Kate arrayed herself with exquisite taste, in a dress which displayed her magnificent and potent charms to the best advantage. There was nothing gay or demonstrative either in the color or style of the garments she wore. Her dress was of light-gray silk, which was worn high in the heck, and fitted her superb shape admirably, showing the contour of her beautiful shoulders and the full swell of her bust. Her white and exquisitely-rounded arms were half-seen and half-hidden among the folds of the soft page: 206-207[View Page 206-207] 206 OUT OF THE STREETS. and delicate lace which formed the lining of the loose and flow- ing sleeves. Her hair was dressed plainly, yet in such a manner that it set off her small and beautiful head to the best advan- tage. She wore no ornaments, save a pair of earrings, containing a large single pearl and a small moss rose bud, whose delicate pink petals contrasted with the pure green of the Calyx, which seemed, in place of brooch, to secure the small scarf of filmy lace which she wore round her white and graceful neck. The color in her. cheeks was just high enough to make the pearly white of her complexion seem even more clear and alabaster-like, and her large eyes shone with unusual brilliancy and lustre. As she sat thus alone, waiting with slight impatience the hour for which the appointment had been made, no one would have dreamed that under that fair guise she hid the crafty, unscrupu- lous, pitiless and cruel heart she did. The atmosphere all day had been hot and sultry, and with the evening the oppressive condition of the air had increased; the leaves upon the trees before the door were motionless, and the heat was intense. As she looked out of the window, a momentary flash of light- ning lit up the distant horizon with its quivering, uncertain glare; and a short time after, the far-distant mutterings of thunder were heard, giving indication of a coming storm. As she turned away, the rumbling of an approaching carriage attracted her attention, and she paused to observe it. It came on rapidly, and stopped in front of the house. Taking a step back, and half concealing herself behind the lace curtains of the open window, she looked out with interest, and saw Doctor Bolton ererge from the open door and come toward the steps. Just as he began the ascent, however, he paused for a moment, as if struck by a sudden thought, and then returned to the car- riage, opened the door and leaned forward, so that his face could not be seen, as if speaking to some one, or looking for something he had forgotten. He remained thus for a moment or so; then, again closing the door, he mounted the steps and rang the bell. She took a brief survey of herself in the mirror, to be sure that her face did not betray the inward excitement she felt. No, her features were calm and placid, and in all respects she OUT OF THE STREETS. 207 had every reason to be satisfied with the reflection the faithful glass presented of herself. She took a seat in a chair that stood opposite the door, which in a few moments was thrown open by a servant, and Doctor Bol- ton eitered the room. He was dressed in black. His face was pale, careworn, and despondent; and yet there was an expression of firmness and determination about his mouth, which a close observer would have noticed, and which seemed to indicate some fixed and serious purpose in his mind, which he had resolved to execute. He gently closed the door after him, and stood motionless, gaz- ing upon the woman who had so abused his confidence and be- trayed his trust, with a countenance in which grief, rather than any vindictive feelings, was paramount. Kate was the first to speak. Rising and making a low courtesy, she said, her head slightly depressed, as if she felt she had no right to stand erect and bold before him: "I thank you for this visit, doctor. I do not know what feel- ings have prompted it-whether in mercy or in anger; but I thank you. Pray, be seated." "My visit is due to neither feeling," he replied, after a pause; and, seating himself opposite to her, toward the window, which remained open; "I have sought you, madame in self-defence." "You fear me, then," she said, in a; low voice, and glancing at him aside, her eyes half veiled by their drooping lids. "In one way, yes " the doctor replied. "I fear that your pres- ent position may tempt you into some new crime or folly, which will reveal your true character to the world, as it has been re- vealed to me, and thus bring more shame and disgrace upon me than that I already feel." "Your anxiety has been a natural one," she replied, in a soft, musical voice. "I cannot blame you. Nor do I know that I ought to say that it is groundless. You need have no more fear of me, however. I am changed. I have had time to reflect, and reflection has brought back reason. I see now the full measure of my wickedness. I sincerely repent of it, and my conduct henceforth shall be such as to prove that I am sincere in what I say." As she said this, she glanced at the doctor, half timidly, for a page: 208-209[View Page 208-209] 208 OUT OF THE STREETS. moment, and then again lowered her eyes, and sat humbly await- ing his reply. A peculiar smile for an instant played about the corners of his mouth, but vanished again suddenly, as his lips once more re- sumed their firm and determined expression. "I am glad to hear you say so," he said, after another pause, during which he watched her closely, unobserved, '" and I hope your resolution will hold." "I am sure it will," she said, looking up at him, as if she would fascinate him with her eyes. "I have experienced this feeling for some time, nearly ever since we parted, and have longed for an opportunity to tell you so. I should not have waited until now to do so, but for the strict injunction you placed upon me on the morning after that unhappy night, when some fiend must have taken possession of me. You refused to allow me to hold any direct communication with you, and to have sought an op- portunity of telling you of the revolution which had taken place in my thoughts and purposes would have been an act of disobe- dience at variance with my professions. But you have chosen to give me that opportunity, unsolicited, and I avail myself of it to ask your pardon and your charity." The same incredulous smile was visible on the doctor's face as he replied: "And do you think that I could ever trust you again P?" The simple fact that he should ask the question was proof to her that he could; but she answered: "No. I have never dared to hope it. I feel that I have lost your confidence forever; that I am unworthy of your trust, and should not be trusted. I simply ask you to look with as much allowance as you can upon my past conduct--I do not hope to be forgiven--and in your charity to believe that henceforth I shall be earnest and sincere in my desire to lead a different life-to be- come a different being." "You have," the doctor answered, when she ceased, ", forfeited every right to my consideration. You have shaken my faith in you from its foundation. You have brought ruin, shame and disgrace upon me, and have trampled on, the love your beauty and your mental endowments once inspired. Have you not done this?" he asked. OUT OF THE STEET" S. 209 "I have been very wicked, and very blind. I have thrown away that which, now that it is lost, I know how to appreciate " and value," she replied, humbly; " and now that I have lost everything--now that I can contrast the past with the present, and see all that I might have been, compared with what I am, I feel that I am justly punished for my wickedness, my blindness, and my folly!" "( We never estimate the blessings we enjoy until they are taken from us," the doctor said; "but, as I observed," he continued, ( my object in coming here was to inquire into your intentions for the future, and to make such arrangements as should keep you out of the way of temptation and be a guarantee for myself." "Then," she replied, " you have no faith in what I have said?" "What guarantee can I have that you would not again betray me, should I place confidence in you? If I were weak enough to avow that, notwithstanding the past and the bitter remem- brance of it, I have not been able to banish you from my heart, would you not use the knowledge to play upon me, and again abuse the power which this feeling would give you'?" , Did you not come here," she asked, " to make that avowal?" "Do you think it possible," he replied, " that I should do so? Would you not despise me if I did?" ( No," she exclaimed, rising and standing before him, as if to bring to bear upon him the full effect of her charms, and arouse any dormant feeling which might still exist for her in his heart -" no; such generosity would be worthy of you. It would be a noble revenge to take, for it would humble me to the uttermost; and you might make such an avowal with safety, for the tie which bound us together is for ever broken, and did you now offer to take me back to your home and heart, I should refuse to take you at your word. We must live apart henceforth, but it need not be as enemies," she added, extending her hand toward him. -He took it and held it in his own, gazing into her face with a peculiar and searching look, while a faint glimmer of the smile we have before noticed was observable on his lips. "I never hoped for even this," she said, softly, as she gently led him to the sofa, which stood behind the place where they had been sitting, and still retaining his hand. * page: 210-211[View Page 210-211] 210 OUT OF THE STREETS. s, CHAPTER XXVI. THE TIGRESS STRIPPED OF HER CLAWS. '"---She stands at bay, And puts her last faint refuge in despair."'-THOMSON. THE doctor seated himself, and Kate placed herself by his side, so close that her shoulder touched his, while she held his hand in hers upon her lap. "It is vain to regret the past," the doctor said, after a pause; "though I cannot but reflect how happy we might have been under other circumstances." "And is it impossible?" she said, with a soft pressure of his hand, and letting her beautiful head sink upon his shoulder, so that her cheek lay close to his, which her breath fanned. "Would that I were assured of it," he replied. "I would give the world, were it mine to give, that the dreams I once had might be realized ' That you were what I thought you were! That you were faithful and loving, true and pure!" The siren only sighed and nestled closer to him, letting her soft and glowing cheek press against his. She felt her triumph was at hand, that in a moment he would be in her arms, that her power over him would be regained, and he would once more be her pliant, easy tool. He was even weaker than she had thought him. He was yield- ing to her fascinations without a struggle. "What would you have me say or do?" she murmured. "What would I not do to win your confidence, your love, once more!" "You would but lure me on," he said " to destroy me further." "No; you wrong me," she declared, letting her arm fall upon his shoulder, and gradually encircling him. "You are cruel! How shall I remove your doubts? Look in my eyes, and see if in them you can read any deceit or treachery. Would you could OUT OF THE STREETS. 2" read my heart! Nay," she exclaimed, as if determined to carry her point by a grand coup-de-main, "let all dispute cease from this hour. Let this very mofAent witness our reconciliation, and let the past be buried in this kiss." With these words she clasped his hand still closer, and drawing his face toward her, imprinted an impassionate kiss upon his lips. At that moment the storm which had long been gathering broke forth in wild and sudden fury. A vivid flash of lightning gleamed through the night, followed by a clap of thunder, which shook the house to its foundation, and filled the air with loud re- verberations. The doctor started to his feet suddenly, as if the appalling con- cussion had startled him to a sense of his folly, and, turning to her, said: "Judas! Would you betray me with a kiss? t No!" she exclaimed, rising in her turn and coming nearer to him. "No! I meant that kiss to-be the seal of our reconciliation. Shall it not be so? , "Temptress!" he answered, "you know the power you hold over me! You know your charms are irresistible, and that, poor, weak creature that I am, I cannot longer resist their power. But- the storm without," he continued, " warns me that I am lacking in consideration. I have left a friend outside in the carriage, not expecting to remain so longr May I not call him in until the storm is over?) "A friend!" she said in some surprise. "I should have thought you would have come on such a visit alone!" "I had no idea," the doctor answered, 4" that it would termin- ate as I see you are determined that it shall, or I should have come alone. But the rain and wind are increasing in fury. Shall I call him in? He need remain," he added, meaningly, " no lon- ger than the storm continues, and will not mind leaving me be- hind him! A" "Shall I send the servant for him, then? 'I she asked. "It is not necessary. I will go to the door and call him myself," the doctor answered, leaving the room. As he disappeared, the whole manner of the woman changed. Her figure seemed to expand. She looked taller; a deep glow * /c page: 212-213[View Page 212-213] 212 OUT OF THE STREETS. suffused her cheeks, and that bright, phosphorescent light in her great eyes shone out like rays of fire. This was the hour of her triumph!-a triumph which proved her unbounded power; a triumph which satisfied her schemes of ambition, and which fostered, with sweetest pabulum, her great and overweening vanity. Here was the man who had proved her false and wanton; who had cast her from him like a thing despised and loathed; who had driven her into the streets as unworthy to share his roof or breathe the air he breathed-here was this man, almost a suppli- ant at her feet, forgetting all, forgiving all, and taking her to his heart again, full of trust and confidence in her promise. It was a glorious triumph, and she gloried in it, and paced, in glowing pride and beauty, up and down the room like a queen. But as she turns toward the door, hearing the approach of foot- steps, announcing the return of the doctor with his friend, why does she start back, turn pale, and stand with outstretched hands and wildly-glaring eyes, as if transfixed by a bolt from the loud thunder, which now crashes on the ear in deafening peals? There is nothing very startling or dreadful in the man on whom she gazes with such a frightened look, and who has entered with the doctor. There is nothing so hideous in his aspect, that, after gazing on him for a moment with that expression of unutterable dismay and fear, she should suddenly clasp her face in her hands, as if to shut him from her seared sight, and then sink down into a chair near by, as if she had been stricken by a sudden blow ' No; he was a tall person, dressed in black, as was the doctor. le seemed about thirty-five years of age; his face was pale and thin, and his figure wiry and spare. He did not speak, but stood perfectly still gazing upon Kate with a stern and unpitying look, until she could endure it no more, and sank under it. Then, turning to the doctor, the stranger said, coolly, and with a sneer: "The lady, it seems, has recognized me. I told you I thought there would be no necessity for an introduction. We are old ac- quaintances. I think she will herself acknowledge that she has known me the longer time, of the two, when she recovers from the surprise of this unexpected meeting sufficiently to speak." "There is no doubt, then, of her indentity? 'the doctor asked. OUT OF THE STREETS. 213 "None, sir! I should know those eyes among a thousand. I have good cause to remember them. They made sad havoc with me once! Let me see! I was clerk on board of a steamboat, and it was on our trip from Cincinnati to St. Louis when those eyes first shed their dazzling light upon my susceptible heart I She was a passenger on that trip. But I need not tell her-I dare say she remembers all about it, and how she threw a sort of spell about me, which drove me mad; or, knowing her for what she was, even then, in her youth, I should never have been such a fool as to marry her, as I did! Come," he continued, going toward her and shaking her roughly by the shoulder, " stop your acting -you are only puzzling your head how to get out of it-and look me in the face and deny it, if you can or dare!" But she did not move. The presence of this man had crushed her, broken her spirit, and she crouched away from him and made no attempt to look up or speak. "Is what this man affirms true?" the doctor asked. "Can you proclaim his assertion false?" She made no reply, but seemed to try to shrink further away, and pressed her hands still closer to her face. "O Of course she can't," the man replied. "She is the woman who, under the name of Shelby, married John Rowlston, myself; and who, on the very day after her marriage to him, drugged him, robbed him of all the funds in his possession, belonging to the steamer Mary Blane, and eloped with her paramour to New Orleans, leaving her dupe of a husband to bear the imputation of a thief as well as a fool, and blasting his life for ever! This is the same woman, and let her deny it if she can." She trembled from head to foot, but spoke not. "I hunted you for years," he continued, pausing a moment to give her an opportunity to speak.!"I looked for you everywhere, but could learn nothing of you until I received a letter from a person who signed his name Dick Watkilns." She started at this, and was about to rise, but sank back again. "A brother of yours, whom you betrayed to the men who were searching for him to arrest him," he continued, " and who told me in revenge, all your past life since you left me, or as much as he knew of it-of your marriage to this gentleman after another husband died; and he also hinted at some other scheme you had page: 214-215[View Page 214-215] 214 OUT OF THE STEErTS. in hand, with the object of entrapping and dragging to ruin still another victim. But I think your list of victims is full. It is time you should have your fangs drawn, and I have come here to draw them." Was I not right to call you Judas but now, when you pressed your tainted lips to mine," the doctor exclaimed, , " to draw me further into ruin? Wonder of wonders, that so foul a soul can animate so beautiful a body " "And but for your knowledge of what this man had told you," Kate exclaimed, with bitter scorn, at last starting desperately to her feet, her face as pale as death, her lips quivering, and her form trembling with excitement and baffled wrath, " but for that I should have done it, and made you more pliAnt and confiding than you had ever been! You are a poor, weak fool. I do not care for you nor fear you!'" and she turned away from him, and, confronting. owlston, continued: "What is your purpose fur ther? You have exposed me'to this man. You can tell him no more. All that you have told him is true. I confessit. What then? What is your purpose further?" "You shall know, he said, coolly ; and remember that, as here is a heaven above me, the purpose I came here to-night to execute I will perform. I am not the poor, lovesick, milksop youth you knew and tempted to his ruin. My experiences have been hard inc then ot Th e trldn kill'My experlences have byeen hard since then. The world showed me no mercy in my shame. I have shown the world no mercy since. I have made men my prey as you have--but in a different way-and am known as a man who does as hea says, and who never says anything he does not mean to do. If you doubt me, you do not know John Rowl- ton as the world-my world--does, as a bold, reckless gambler, who has played many a desperate game, losing some and winning many, yet never flinching, whether the stake has been his money or his life. You made me desperate, and you shall feel the effects of my desperation I see that you feel that you have met your match at last! Devil that you are, you have found a greater one in me, and you know it." "You cannot do more than kill me, and I have as little fear as on. I have played in my life for high stakes as well asyou, and have not always won," she said, with something of her old defiance. "In losing tho one you were playing for when I came into the OUT OF THE STREETS. 215 game," he replied, "yon have lost all. You can play no more, for from this night forth I will render you powerless. I shall not kill you. You are a woman, after all; and, besides, I would not risk a halter for you! But I will tell you what the purpose is I came here to execute. I shall not invoke the law; the law's de- lay would tire pay patience, and there are so many meshes in its web, you would be sure to slip through some of them. I will be both your judge and executioner, and as you are not fit to live in the world, I shall remove you from it. Here is my warrant for it." He took a folded paper from his pocket and read, in a calm, steady voice, as follows: "Having, on the 14th day of August, 18-, examined Kate Rowlston, now known as Kate Bolton, of the City and County of New York, I hereby certify, of my own knowledge, that said Kate Rowlston is in a state of insanity, and proper to be received into a house provided for the relief of persons of that description. "MILES HOUGHTON, M. D." "That is my warrant," he added, refolding the paper, and put- ting it away. "A stronger one than could be issued by any court in the land, false and fraudulent though it is." "You will not attempt such an outrage 1" she exclaimed. "You dare not!" "Pshaw! I have told you that I am a desperate man. I have resorted to desperate, but not to uncommon means, as this gen- tleman, who is- a physician, knows, and as the records of many of the courts will show! The certificate is in due form, regularly attested by one who has been too well paid to deny it, and is enough to keep you a close prisoner as long as it suits my purpose. Henceforth you will be dead to the world. No help can reach you, no writ can interfere in your behalf, for you will not be al- lowed communication with any one but me while in the living grave which my vengeance and the laxity of the law have pro- vided for you." .. . "But you cannot take me hence against my will," she urged, cowed and frightened at last by the threat, the manner of it, and a something in him who made it, which, she was keen-sighted enough to see, would never let him waver in his purpose. "I will alarm the house!" and, as she spoke, she rushed toward the window. But in a moment he caught her in his powerful and wiry arms, and held her back, saying in a deep voice, close to her ear: page: 216-217[View Page 216-217] 216 OUT OF THE STREETS. "The thunder would drown the loudest cry you could make, besides, the streets are deserted, and there is no one to hear you'; but if you attempt it, I will have you gagged and put into a straight-jacket on the spot!" "Have you no feeling-no pity? Kill me, but do not doom me to this living death!" she exclaimed, staggering back, and sinking into a chair. "What mercy have you ever shown?" he answered. "I will show you as much." He went to the door, and opening it, called in a low voice to some one below. Kate heard footsteps ascending the stairs, and in another moment two rough-looking men, stalwart of frame, and stolid of face, entered the room. As she saw them, she gave a long and piercing shriek, which the loud thunder drowned, and fell back in her chair insensible. "Fainted, eh?"Rowlston said to himself. "So much the bet- ter; it will save trouble. Here's the person," he continued, turn- ing to the men. "She has fainted, poor thing. You will be obliged to carry her to the carriage. Take her gently; she is very desperate during her paroxysms. If force is necessary to quiet her, you must use it. Take her at once. I will follow with her baggage." Without asking any questions, they lifted the insensible wo- man, and bore her quickly to the carriage, in which they placed her. The men followed, closing the door after them, and the car- riage drove rapidly away through the storm. The doctor and Rowlston watched it till it disappeared in the pitchy blackness of the night, and then, turning to the doctor, Rowlston said: "There is no one in the house but the servant. I will make everything right with her, while you get her things into her trunks. We had better finish the affair to-night. Are you satis- fied that all was as I told you?" "I am," the doctor responded. "She is far more wicked and dan- gerous than I supposed. There was nothing to be done except what has been done. If it be wrong, may Heaven forgive me!" "Amen!"Rowlston said, as he left the room to go down-stairs, leaving the doctor to the task which had been allotted to him. OUT OF THE STREETS 217 CHAPTER XXVII OUT OF THE STREETS "Thus does the ever-changing course of things Run a perpetual circle, ever turning," ON their arrival at Mr. Loxley's residence, urged and persuaded by Agnes, as well as by the banker himself, Harry Wright entered the house, and was conducted into the library. After he had taken his seat upon the extremest corner of one of the leathern chairs, near to the large one in which Mr. Loxley seated himself, the Lady Agnes standing between his knees, and looking upon Harry with the greatest admiration, the banker again thanked him for what he had done, and, after paying a high compliment both to his courage and his modesty, said: "You told me, I think, that you were an orphan? ) "Yes, sir," Harry responded. "I have no father or mother." "Who are your friends?" "Pimples, Shorty Blake, Junky, Little Jim, and some more o' the boys." "Oh, what funny names!"Agnes exclaimed, laughing and clapping her hands. "Those are the names of your companions, I presume-nick- names?"Mr. Loxley said, smiling. "They are all the names I know them by," Harry answered. "But I mean," said the banker, "what other friends have you? Who takes care of you?" "I take care of myself," Harry replied, with a slight show of pride, ," and when I can't, Pimples goes in for me, and we two can take care of any of 'em." "I can well understand that," said Mr. Loxley, good-naturedly,' "'rom what I have seen this afternoon; but I wish to know who brought you up. Where do you live,?" "I don't live anywhere in particular," Harry answered, with a page: 218-219[View Page 218-219] 218 OUT OF THE STREETS. desire to evade the first part of-the question. "I sleep in the , Newsboy's Lodging-house,' and in the day I live in the streets, and black shoes." "But you have not alway" sle in the lodging-house. Where did you live before that?" Harry hesitated a moment, and then replied: "I lived at Randall's Island before I came to the city. I never lived anywhere else. I s'pose I was born there." :c Ah, I see!" said Mr. Loxley, thoughfully--"I see! Well, Harry," he continued, after a little reflection, " should you not like to leave your present life go to school, and take a fresh start in the world?" " I should like to go to school," Harry answered. "I went to school on the Island." ' "You can read and write?" "Yes, sir, and cipher in' Fractions ' and ' Compound Numbers2. I studied grammar, too; but I don't know much about that."' , Enough, I suppose, to make you wish to know more, eh?" "Oh, yes, sir. I should like to know a good deal more. I mean to go to night-school next winter." "A very laudable purpose. Now, Harry," Mr. Loxley said, turning to him, "I wish to reward you in some substantial manner for the great service you have rendered me. I shall not offer you money, because that would be soon spent, and you would be no better off than before. You seem to be a bright, intelligent lad, and it is a great pity that you should continue to lead the life you are leading at present, and be subject to all the bad in- fluences and temptations by which you must be surrounded. You say that you would like to go to school. Now, what I propose is this: to send you to some good school, away from the city, where you would be free from your associates of the streets, be treated kindly, and where you would be taught much that would be useful to fit you for a higher position in life than you would be likely to fill under presen* circumstances. What do you say?" "Do you mean to send me to school on the Island?'"Harry asked. '"I shouldn't like that. They were very kind to me; but if I went back I should have to learn to make shoes, and I don't want to." OUT OF THE STREETS. 219 "No, I shall not send you to the Island. I did not think of that but somewhere else, away from New York." Harry reflected before answering. New York had a great many charms for him. If he left it he would be obliged to sac- :rifice the delights of the theatres, of which he was very fond, and could no longer run with "Big Six," for which he had a large amount of admiration and enthusiasm. But he was not rltogether satisfied with his present life; the first excitement of it had worn off, and he had a strong desire to give up shoe-blacking for some bther employment. lHe had a natural taste for the acquisition of knowledge; he had been an apt and industrious schbolar on the Island, and the prospect of renew- ing his acquaintance witfh his 'books pleased him, and seemed to open a new prospect to him. He felt sensible, too, of the kindness of the gentleman in mak- ing him- the offer, and it seemed to him as though he ought to accept it. So he said: "I should like to go to school very much." '"Very well," said Mr. Loxley; "I am giad to hear you say so." "Aid so am I," exciaimetl Agnes, clwho had waited for his reply with a little impatience. "I ut, oi, papa, he can't go to school in those clothes, and those old shoes i ; '"No," said Mr. Loxley; "he wlil need an outfit. I will ar- range that. Let me see. John, the coachman, can take him to a proper place, and get such things as he requires for the present." Harry's face expressed his gratitude, and he could scarcely re- frain from crying. Agnes saw it, and exclaimed: "See, papa; he looks as if he was going to run away again! Don't let him!" N( No,"' said Harry earnestly; "I was not thinking of that. I was thinking of how kind it is of you to offer to do so much for me for nothing. I will try to pay you back some day, if I can." "You have already more that paid me," said Mr. Loxley; "and I feel sure you will do all in your power to show that you appreciate my gratitude by being industrious, upright, honest and studious. Will you note " ' "Oh, yes, sir!"Harry exclaimed, now fully awake to the ad- vatanges offered to him. "I will do everything I can to please you!" page: 220-221[View Page 220-221] 220 OUT OF THE STREETS, - ' Then the matter is settled," said Mr. Loxley. "I will send for John, and you may go with him and procure your clothes at once." "I would rather do that to-morrow, sir,' Harry said, hesitat- ingly. "t I should not like to go away without seeing the boys once more. Jimmy is taking care of my box and brushes, and I told him I would be back in a little while. I should like to see all the boys, and bid :em good-by; and it wouldn't do for me to go among them in good clothes; they wouldn5t stand that. They'd make fun of me, and say I was puttin' on airs, and tumble me in the mud. I will come back early in the morning." Both Agnes and her father tried to dissuade him from thir leave-taking, but finding he was bent upon it, Mr. Loxley finally yielded and gave his consent for him to go, with the promise on Harry's part that he should be at the house early in the morning to go with John. The promise was promptly given, and taking leave of Agnes, who would insist on shaking hands with him once more, he turned to go. :, Have you any money?" asked Mr. Loxley, as he was going out. "Yes, sir. Two-and-ninepence. That's what I made to-day." "Here is some more to add to it," Mr. Loxley said, offering the lad a bank-note. "I don't want it, sir!"Harry replied. "I don't want any money." "Take it!" said Mr. Loxley; " you will want to make some little presents to your friends on bidding them good-by. Won't you?"' "Yes, sir," Harry answered, "I should like to. I mean to give 'em my box and brushes." 4( They will not go far. You had better take this," the banker said, urging the money on the boy. Harry took it, and again thanking ]Mr. Loxley and Agnes, he left tie house and flew down the street as fast as his legs could' carry him. Little Jimmy was still waiting for him in the square, and so were Pimples, Shorty Blake, Junky, and the rest of his compan- ions, who were curious to know the result of his visit to the gen- OUT OF THE STREETS. 221 tileman's house, and who, as soon as they saw him, set ap a loud shout, and came rushing toward him. "What did he give you? I' asked Shorty, "A gold watch and chain?" said Junky. "A big bag of gold?" inquired Littlo Jimmy. "Are you going to marry the old man's daughter and live in a big house, and drive a fast team?" asked Pimples, with a remin- iscence of the reward of virtue received by the hero of some ro- mantic-drama. They so overwhelmed him with questions, and so crowded and pushed him and one another about in their anxiety to know the result of his adventure, that it was some time before Harry could quiet them sufficiently to tell them anything. "I ain't a-going to black shoes any more," he said. "I'm go- ing to retire from business and go to school." "Is that all '?"asked Pimples, with a look of great disappoint- ment. "Didn't he give you nothihk?" "I wouldn't have taken anything from him," said Harry; "( at least not much. The gentleman is very kind, and is going to buy me new clothes, and send me to school in the country." "You'm a fool!"Pimples broke in, emphatically. "What do you want to go to school for? Can't you read theayter bills- small letters and all--and ain't that enough for any fellow? Go back and tell him to go to thunder with his school, and make him give you some money, and let's all get some coffee and cakes, and then go down to the Bowery Theayter. There's three bully pieces to-night!" "He made me take some money," said Harry, drawing the bank-note which Mr. Loxley had given him from his pocket and examining it, while Pimples and the rest looked anxiously over his shoulder. "Five dollars! :" they all exclaimed at once, as the denomination of the bill met their eyes. "That will be enough for coffee and cakes and theatre too," said Harry. "Let's go now!"Pimples suggested. Yes, yes!" shouted the rest. "Wait a moment," said Harry; , I'll treat to coffee and cakes, and the theatre, because it's the last time we shall be together, page: 222-223[View Page 222-223] 222 OUT OF THE STaEETIJ . but first I must go to the lodging-house and see Chalky. He's sick, and I want to take him something nice-some oranges, and lemons to make him lemonade. I heard him wishin' for them last night." No objection was made to this, even by the hungry Pimples, who as Harry's " partner "-for the firm was still intact, though Pimples had been obliged by Harry to become an active instead of a sleeping partner-might have had some right to demur to such an appropriation of the money; and so it was carried nem. con. that they should go to "Butter-cake Dick's " first, and get their fill of coffee and cakes, wait for Harry while he went to see their sick companion, Chalky, and then go to the Bowery Theatre in a body., , This settled, they left the square at once, to carry out the even- ing's programme. Pimples enjoyed a notable reputation for his gastronomic abil- ities, and was in no danger of jeopardizing it on this occasion; for, whether in honor of Harry's good fortune, or because he felt that it would be the last chance for participating in a full feed at his partner's expense, and he was determined to make the most of it, or whether his fast, had been prolonged beyond the usual period, or from all these reasons combined, his efforts cast all his previous feats into the. shade in causing the sudden disappearance of innumerable plates of cakes and a perfect sea of hot coffee. His companions did equally well, considering their more moder- ate capacity; and Butter-cake Dick's stock would have been soon exhausted, but-there being a limit to everything, even a hungry lad's appetite-Pimples was obliged at last to declare his ina- bility to " go " any more cakes or another cup of coffee, and suc- cumbed, with the rest, to the great relief of the waiter, who was nearly exhausted by the continued and lengthened demand made upon his services. Leaving his companions to their digestion in the coffee and cake cellar, Harry went away-strongly enjoined by all to come back in time-to carry out his kind intentions toward Chalky, the invalid; and, filling his pockets with everything he thought he would like, without regard to its kind or fitness under the circumstances, he carried them to the sick boy and piled them upon his bed, shoved oranges into his hands, tucked mo- OUT OF THE STREETS. 223 lasses candy under his pillow, and almost smothered him with kindness! Poor Chalky-whose face was so pale and white that his name seemed very appropriate-was quite grateful, and expressed his thanks as well as he could, being too weak to say much. "You are werry kind to me, Harry,9 he whispered faintly, through his parched lips. "If I get well, I will pay you back; but I don't believe I shall ever get well any more! I feel wuss and wuss!" "I am going away to-morrow, Chalky, and shan't como back here any more," Ilarry said, after trying to cheer him up, and il a simple way endeavoring to inspire him with hopes of a speedy recovery--" at least not for a long time. I am going to school in the country, and I want to say good-by before I go I' "I am sorry you are going," the sick boy said. "You have always been werry good to me. I shall never see you any lmore.' "Oh, yes, you will," said Harry, cheerfully; "when I come back I'll find you out, and maybe I shall be able to do some- thing for you! Don't be down-hearted. Eat the oranges, and I'll tell 'em to make you some lemonade. I've got lemons and sugar; that will do you good, if you drink plenty of- it. Good- by!" He shook his poor, thin hand, smoothed the hair from his pale brow kindly and tenderly, and left the bedside, to ask the nurse to make the lemonade, in whose curative qualities he seemed to put so much faith, and then went to meet his companions at Butter-cake Dick's. They were anxiously expecting his arrival; so, as soon. as he made his appearance, they started at-,once, and arrived at the Bowery in time to be able to select the best seats. We need not stop to describe the play, which was a melodrama of the good old-fashioned sort, written to display the talents of Coney and Blanchard, and their wonderful dogs, "Hector " and "Bruin," and full of just the sort of stuff to please the audience who witnessed it. As Pimples declared, it was a " a bully play ;' and as there cannot be too much of a good thing, according to Pimples, they were not the less pleased that it was followed by two others, nearly exactly like it, with the same characters in page: 224-225[View Page 224-225] 224 OUT OF THE STREETS. different clothes, and saying the same things, only in different words. When the play was out, it was too late to go to the lodging- house, as the doors of that institution were closed at ten o'clock, and none were admitted after that hour; so, as the night was warm, they adjourned to a lumber-yard not far away, which they had often visited before for the same purpose, where, selecting a snug corner among the boards, they discussed the play, and Harry's adventure and his-altered prospects, until they fell asleep, the prac- tical Pimples picking out the most sheltered place, and appro- priating Harry as a substitute for a pillow. Harry was awake bright and early in the morning, and arous- ing his companions, he gave each of them some little token to remember him by, leaving his box and brushes in trust with Shorty Blake-he had lost much confidence in Pimples-to be given to Chalky to enable him to make a fair start when he should get well again; then, with mingled emotions of pain and pleas- ure, he bade them good-by, and, after. a souse at a neighboring pump, proceeded toward the banker's house, to keep his appoint- ment. Just as he turned into Broadway from Grand-street, he hap- pened to look up, and there, coming toward him, he saw, to his utter astonishment and surprise, the person whom he was least expecting to see--Mr. Peter Pivot. OUT OF THE STREETS. 225 CHAPTER XXIX. THE TURN OF THE WiCEEL. "But now the moments bring The time of parting with redoubled wing." THABRY'S first impulse, on seeing Mr. Pivot, after recovering from his astonishment, was to run away; but if he did, he thought, would not the fact draw attention to him? Mr. Pivot would probably not remember him in his ragged clothes, and, besides, he had changed considerably since he left the Island. If he passed quietly by, he would not be likely to attract his attention. So he put a bold front on, and continuing his course, had arrived within a few paces of Mr. Pivot, who came on slowly, and would un- doubtedly have passed by without recognition, but, just then, Mr. Pivot dropped a piece of paper he had been carrying in his hand, and, stooping to pick it up, his eyes met Harry's. His face at once assumed an expression of uncertainty, mixed with surprise, and he instantly laid his hand upon the boy's shoulder, saying: "Your name's 'Arry Wright, or h'else you're his ghost! It is :Arry Wright, as sure as my name is Peter Pivot, or h'else it's an elucidation of the brain I So, you young rascal, I've got you, 'ave I? What did you run away from me for, eh? ' "I didn't run away, Mr. Pivot; upon my word I'ridn't; that is, I didn't mean to," Harry responded, seeing that both conceal- ment and escape were impossible. "' Then, why didn't you 'unt me h'up and come back, eh? Come, now, what do you say to that? "Because they told me you were very angry with me, and that as soon as you found me you was going to lick me, and send mo back to the Island." "They! Who is they?" "Dick and HMrs. Stevenson." page: 226-227[View Page 226-227] 226 OUT OF THE STREETS, "And who are they? What did they know about it? I never promised any such thing I've been worrited 'alf out of ly wits about you." "I'm very sorry," said Harry. "I was glad to think I was going to live with you, and was dreadfully afraid and sorry when I could not find my way back to you, after following the soldiers off. I asked Dick to take me back to you, but he wouldn't." "The d--l take Dick, whoever he may be! I'll Dick him, if ever I find him! But where are you going, where have you been, and what have you done?" "I can't stop to tell you now, sir,' Harry replied. "I'm going up to a gentleman's house to get some clothes, and be sent to school." "Oh, you are, are you? Now, look 'ere, my fine fellow, no nonsense with me, you know. If you don't give me an account of yourself, and tell me the truth, I'll 'and you to the first police- man that comes along, and have you locked up until I can send to the Island and let them come for you! So come along with me! Ave you 'ad your breakfast' " "No, sir," said Harry; 4( I've had no time to eat it." "Well, then, you'll have to make time. Come along!"Pivot exclaimed, and, without waiting for Harry to reply, he took him by the shoulder and led him to a cheap eating-house in the vicin- ity of Centre Market, and calling for breakfast so ample that even Pimples would have found it too much for him, he insisted on the boy's falling too and devouring it at once. Harry did not need much urging, although he was in great anxiety lest he should be at Mr. Loxley's behind the time he had promised, and ate heartily and hastily, while Pivot looked on in severe silence. At last Hprry laid down his knife and fork. "'Ave you 'ad enough?"Peter asked, gruffly. "If you 'aven't, h'eat away till you 'ave, if you bust. You 'aven't been very ve- racious." "I can't eat any more," Harry answered, (" if I should try." "Well, then," Peter said, as sternly as he could, " now begin and tell me everythink. And, mind you, no gammon or surrep- titiousness. Tell me everythink that's 'appened to you." Harry saw there was no help for it, and that the best way was OUT OF THE STREETS. 227 to comply with Peter's demand; so he began by informing him how he had first wandered away, of his being found and carried off by Dick and Kate, his detention, his daring escape, his meet- ing with Pimples, and all that had happened since his arrival in the city, including his adventrue in Union Square, and his subse- quent interview with Mr. Loxley, and the result of it. Peter listened with great attention, asking .a hundred questions, and expressing his indignation, astonishment and admiration in the most emphatic manner, and ended by clapping Harry on the shoulder and exclaiming,: "You're a brick! That's what you are-a brick! I feel sure you've told the truth without imprecation ; and all I've to say is, that I'll stick by you now closer than h'ever." "But I must go to the gentleman's house," said Harry, " or else he'll think that I'm not coming back, and don't mean to ac- cept his offer." "To be sure you must. I should like to 'ave you go 'ome with me; but this person can do better for you than I can. So I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll go with you. It won't do any harm for me to put in a good word for you. So come along." Peter paid for the breakfast, and they proceeded toward Mr. Loxley's house, Harry leading the way, where, on their arrival, they found little Agnes on the lookout for them at the win- dow. "That is the little lady I told you of," Harry said, pointing out Agnes, who was smiling, bowing, and clapping her hands in great delight. "She's a little h'angel!!"Pivot exclaimed, regarding the girl. "As beautiful as a seraphine! ' Before Pivot could ring the bell the door was opened by a ser- vant, who had been summoned by Agnes as soon as she had caught sight of Harry, and she herself came up, in great excite- ment. to welcome her young preserver. "Oh, I'm so glad you've come!" she exclaimed. " TYol are so late that pa began to think you did not mean to come at all, but I knew better." '"I met this gentleman, and I could not come sooner," Harry answered. "This is Mr. Pivot; he knows all about me, and wants to see your father, if you please." page: 228-229[View Page 228-229] 228 OUT OF THE STREETS. "Papa is m the library. This way," Agnes replied. "Come in right away." And she ran on before them, and pushed open the library door, exclaiming: "( Oh, papa, he's come! I knew he would, and has brought a gentleman with him who knows all about him." Mr. Loxley rose, and, addressing himself to Harry, said: "' You are later then we expected, but better late than never." "I beg pardon, sir," Pivot began. "I beg pardon, I'm sure, for interpolating myself; but, bless me, why, it's Mr. Loxley. To be sure. Perhaps you remember me, sir? My name is Pivot -Peter Pivot. Often 'ad the honor of doing business with y6ur louse. I'm'-in the h'undertaking way." "Ah, to be sure," said Mr. Loxley, extending his hand. "I re- member you very well. How do you do, Mr. Pivot? I'm glad to see you. Be seated. Do you know this lad? ) "Ever since he was born, sir," Peter answered, " though I've lost sight on him for a good bit, and thought I should never see him again. But this morning, as I was a-going 'ome from 'put- ting ' up a party as died last night-which, by the way, it came near being the . end o' me, as well as the defunct, for there is a spinal staircase in the 'ouse-a very fine louse, sir, indeed-and my foot slipped on the top step, and down I come from half way down the spinal staircase, and nearly broke my neck!" "Indeed!" said Mr. Loxley, smiling at Peter's odd substitu- tion of " spinal " for spiral. "Yes, I did, indeed," Peter continued; " but that matters neither 'ere nor there. 'Arry has told me all about the little event of yes- terday, and very creditable it is to lim, and very kind of you, too, Mr. Loxley, to do what you are going to do for lim. It's your intention, I believe, to send 'im to school?" "Yes," said Mr. Loxley. "I thought in that way I might do him more permanent good than in any other, and if he should prove -to be industrious, and apply himself, I shall, perhaps, be able-if I find he appreciates my efforts to elevate him in the social scale-to put him in the way of making a future for him- self." "'Do you 'ear that, 'Arry?"Peter said, turning to the boy in OUT OF THE 'STREETS. 229 n impressive way. "Mr. Loxley will try to make a man of you; ly but it all depends on yourself after all." "I am sure you, nor Mr. Loxley either, will ever find fault with me for not trying to do all I can," Harry answered, quickly. "That's right," said Pivot. "Why I knew a boy once in Lon- don; he was a poor boy-his father was a fishmonger's clark in Billingsgate Market, and couldn't do much for him; but, you see, the boy was ambitious, and was determined to get on, and when he was put out 'prentice, he made up his mind to be a rich man by the time he was thirty years old. Well, sir," Peter con- tinued, addressing Mr. Loxley, " that boy, he worked like a gal- ley-slave morning and night, till he was out of his time, and then he got a start for himself, in a small way, and worked 'arder than h'ever; and, upon my word, before he was eight-and-twenty he told me that he 'ad arrived at the pandemonium of his ambition! There!" "Arrivea at what?"Mr. Loxley asked, at a loss to know ex-. actly what Peter meant. "The pandemonium of his ambition!"Peter repeated. "Got to the top of the ladder, you know,- sir." "Oh, I see; you mean the summit of his ambition, I suppose," Mr. Loxley said, endeavoring to suppress a smile. "Well, yes, I suppose I do. I often go wrong that way. Sum- mit or pandemonium, it is all the same, I dessay," Peter answered, with a laugh at himself. "Pa, John is waiting," Agnes whispered to her father, unable to restrain her impatience to see Harry in his new clothes. "He is all ready." "Very well. You may take Harry to him, then, at once. He has his directions,) Mr. Loxley replied. "I desire to- speak a few words to Mr. Pivot while he is'gone. You can give me a few mnoments of your time, M[r. Pivot? 5) "Delighted, I am sure. I came here on purpose. It's only right you should know something more about the lad than you do." Agnes did not wait for further permission, but seizing Harry by the hand, led him, blushing, out of the room, and presented him to John, the coachman, who took him with him at once, in page: 230-231[View Page 230-231] 230 OUT OF THE STREETS. obedience to the orders he had received, while Agnes stood and watched them from the steps till they disappeared. As soon as Harry had left them alone, Mr. Loxley requested Pivot to inform him of all he knew concerning the lad's history. This Peter did in a frank, sensible way, but not without in- numerable misapplications of a whole lexicon of high-sounding words. Mr. Loxley listened with much interest and considerable amuse- ment to Peter's recital, and after reflecting a few moments, asked: "And did nothing more ever transpire concerning the fate of her husband?" "No," Peter answered; " nothing. Mr. Snaggs says that noth- ing more was ever heard of him or Jaek Kelty, the wrecker, since the boat in which they went out was found bottom upward at sea by Captain Bunce, the skipper of the sloop Two Harriets, of South Mitchim Inlet."5 "Norman-Norman!" said Mr. Loxley, repeating the name to himself. "I never heard it before; and yet you say he came from New York, this woman's husband?" "So Snaggs says, and I have 'unted Sigh and low to find the family to which he belonged, but I never found h'anybody who could trace the slightest sanguinary tie." "The lad's fate has been a hard one," Mr. Loxley observed; "and I am very happy that chance has thrown the little waif in my way." "It was a lucky day for 'im, at any rate," Peter observed. i"It, seems to be one of those strange interjections of Providence that sometimes occur quite promiscuous-like in the equilibrium of events!"' Mr. Loxley smiled, and made no reply. "I s'pose I've put my foot in it again," Peter said, good-hum- oredly; 1"I generally do whenever I h'openimy mouth; but never mind, you know what I mean. The money market is quite 'eavy now, I believe, Mr. Loxley?" Mr. Loxley nodded. Mr. Pivot had spoken of business, and the kind gentleman was at once merged into the dignified banker and financier. , "I am in 'opes things will come round all right," Peter contin- OUT OF THE STREETS. 231 aed, desirous of displaying his financial knowledge; " but I am of the h'opinion that we are too speculative. With our crops and staples, exchange should be in our favor; but it isn't. It seems to me that currency is too much expanded; it makes peo- ple reckless. That's the way it was in 'thirty-six and seven. Ah, those were terrible times, ]Mr. Loxley. I passed through that great panacea, and I 'ope we shall never see anything like it again." Fortunately for Mr. Loxley, Agnes entered at this moment, in great glee, to announce that Harry was coming back, and thus spared the banker from being obliged to listen to any more of Peter's ideas on the condition of the country. This announcement put Peter on the qui vive to see his protege in his new clothes; and when, in a few moments after, Harry entered the room, Peter rushed at him, and seizing both his hands, worked his arms up and down, like a pair of pump-handles, giv- ing utterance to the wildest and most inappropriate expressions of admiration. Agnes stood near, with a look of the most intense satisfaction in her face, and Mr. Loxley, as soon as Peter had released Harry, shook him by the hand himself, saying "a There is certainly a great change for the better in your ap- pearance, Harry. Did you get all that you required?" "Yes, sir, and more," said Harry; "a great deal more, thank you, sir!" "And how do you feel in your new clothes, eh?"Mr. Pivot asked. "You look well enough." "If I look half so well as I feel," said Harry, gayly, "I must looked first-rate, for I never felt so happy in my life!" "That's right," Peter exclaimed; " and if I was at the Club, I'd give my favorite toast: May the present moment be the most un'appy of our lives, with three times three and all the 'ip, "Mr. Pivot has given me a very good account of you," said Mr. Loxley: "Mr. Pivot has always been very good to me," Harry answered, looking grateful at the undertaker, " and I'm very sorry I believed what they told me about him, and that I did not go back to him." page: 232-233[View Page 232-233] 232 OUT OF THE STREETS. "It's better as it is," Peter exclaimed, slapping him on the back, jovially.. "The 'alnd of Fate was h'over it-the unscrupu- lous 'and of Fate--and h'it's better as h'it h'is. You are all right now. You 'ave found a better friend than I could 'ave been to you, with ten of my h'own at 'ome, and Mrs. P. expecting anoth -hum!-me %ome to breakfast; so I'll cut away! Good-by, 'Arry, my boy; and whenever you come to the city, come and see me; there's always a welcome. -d a plate, and knife and fork for you. Good-day, Mr. Loxley! I shall have the pleasure of see- ing you soon in the way of business! Good-day, my little h'angel! Good-by,. 'Arry." And after shaking hands warmly with everybody two or three times over, Pivot finally disappeared, to hurry home and relieve the anxious fears of Mrs. P. After Peter was gone, Agnes would not be satisfied until Mrs. Loxley had seen Harry, about whom she had talked incessantly to her ever since her return home after her fright; and now that he was presentable, and looking so smart and bright and hand- some in his new clothes, she insisted upon her seeing him at once; and Mrs. Loxley, accordingly, submitted to being conducted down-stairs into the library, where Agnes formally presented her to Harry, with great pride and exultation. Mrs. Loxley, who, Harry thought, was the most beautiful and elegant lady he had ever seen, and whom he gazed at in the greatest admiration, received him with kind condescension, and made him perfectly at home in her queenly presence. She also added her thanks to those he had already received for his conduct in the square. After examining him attentively, and evidently much pleased with his appearance, she turned to Mr. Loxley, saying: "His face reminds me of some one. There is a certain family iar expression in it, which strikes me quite forcibly! Who can it be he resembles? Can you think?" "He has a fine, frank, manly look," Mr. Loxley answered; "but I am not struck with its particular resemblance to any one whom I know." "Well, perhaps it may be only fancy," -Mrs. Loxley replied; "but his face certainly seems to resemble some other that I have seen!" OUT OF THE STREETS. 233 By this time a servant announced breakfast, and Mr. and Mrs. Loxley left the library, leaving Agnes and Harry in charge of Miss Floyd, who was sent for; and then Agnes, with Miss Floyd's gracious permission, escorted Harry through the parlors, and showed him all the beautiful things they contained, to his no small astonishment and delight. On his return to the library, Mr. Loxley informed Harry that he would be sent to school the next day, and that in the mean- time he could remain with Agnes and Miss Floyd. Harry thanked him once more; and as Mr. Loxley was leaving the room, he said: "As I am going away to-morrow, for good, I should like -to go back to the Island to-day, to see the superintendent, and Mrs. Whelan, the matron, and my teacher, Mr. Lamb. They think that I ran away from Mr. Pivot, and I shouldn't like them to think so any more. May I go and tell them where I am, and how kind you have been to me, and all that you are going to do for me?" Mr. Loxley, after a moment's consideration, gave his consent that he should go with John, the coachman, and wrote a letter to the superintendent, which Harry was to deliver, in corrobora- tion of the statement he would make. Delighted at the idea of setting himself right in the estimation of the only persons whom he had ever known, or from whom he had ever experienced any kindness, and who now had every rea- son to think him ungrateful and rebellious, Harry. set out on his visit, in company with John, the coachman, who, now that Harry was so smartly dressed, condescended to walk by his side, and even conversed with him occasionally; whereas he had, as soon as they were out of sight of the house, in the morning, told him to keep his proper distance, and follow behind him, while he stalked majestically in front, trying to look as though he had no connection with the ragged urchin in the rear. But now he was all affability, and seemed proud of his charge, who, he declared, looked, every inch of him, like an "illegant young gentleman; ;" and even went so far as to call him "Mas- ter "Harry, and addressed him as " sir," in presence of an ac- quaintance of his, whom he met, and with whom he held a short conversation, first on the sidewalk, on the outside of a public- page: 234-235[View Page 234-235] 234 OUT OF THE STREETS. house, which stood bn a street-corner, and afterward inside the public-house, while "( Master 5"Harry, -at his request, waited fof him; in course of which conversation he informed his acquaint- anco that " the young gentleman was a nevy of Mr. Loxley, and that he was taking him on a visit to Long Island, to see some friends who had a country-sate there." Harry's arrival on the Island caused no little sensation. His first visit was made to the superintendent, who did not recognize him immediately, and who, when he did, was going to be severe with him, until he delivered Mr. Loxley's letter, which caused- the worthy man to change his tone, and behave in the kindest manner, even writing a letter to ]Mr. Loxley in return, giving Harry an excellent character, and thanking him for his kind in- tentions toward s" one of the children of the city." After this, he visited ]Mr. Lamb, his teacher, and you may be sure he,-and such of the boys as knew him, were delighted to see him, and listened to his story with great interest and delight. Before they would let him go he was obliged to relate how "The boy stood on the burning deck " once more, and tell how "Free- dom from her mountain-height unfurled her standard to the air," as well as to address them for the last time as his "Brave com- panions, partners of his toil," &c., which latter oratorical effort, being given in imitation of Tom Hamblin, and who now num- bered Harry among his most ardent and enthusiastic admirers, was pronounced by all the boys to be " bully," which, of course, in their vocabulary, exhausted eulogy. Mrs. Whelan was utterly lost and perfectly beside herself with admiration and delight at seeing her pet boy once more, and hugged, kissed him; and cried over him, till he was half-smothered. She told him how much she had missed him; how none of the new boys, or the old ones, either, who were left, had ever filled his place in her affections, nor ever could; and how much she had grieved when they spoke of him as a runaway, which, at the time, she didn't believe, and said that she was sure he'd turn up again all right; and he had, as she knew he would! Whereupon she broke out into fresh huggings and kissings, with more tears. "Ah," the good woman .went on, sitting down and taking IIarry into her confidence, "I am so glad you've come back now, for if you hadn't come soon, I'd never see you again, for it's wor- OUT OF THE STREETS. 235 rit, worrit, from morning till night, till my life's a'most wore out, and I can't last much longer. There's that Baddles," she went on, " he'll be the death of me! The new seats I have to put in that there boy's trousers is beyond conception, dreadful! Why, cast-iron socks would be brown paper to his feet, and as for his jackets-well, if ever there was a boy as got on in the world by stickin' to anything, he'll make a fortin', for he'd stick to any- thing he'd ever touch-I believe he daubs hisself with molasses a purpose, instead of eatin' of it like a Christian, and his pockets the uses he puts 'em to is awful. I don't believe there is any- thing that ever was that don't find its way into 'em. This blessed morning I saw 'em a-bulgin', and I called him and searched 'em, and if I didn't find a squashed tomato, two dead toads, a bird's nest, with two eggs broke, a live crab, an apple with two big bites out of it, half-a-dozen jackstones, a top, and seven pieces of chalk, may I never die in my bed I There's many of 'cm that is worritin' and a cross to bear, but he is the most worritin' of 'em all. Drat him! I don't want to .be cross, Harry, my dear, but when I think of what I undergo on account of that boy, I sav, drat Baddles!" Harry expressed all the sympathy he could for the good wo- man, and parted from her with many promises to see her again, and, after -saying good-by all round once more, he left, with a parting salute from the boys, and returned to New York happier than he had ever been before in his life. The next day he was sent to a school, selected by Mr. Loxley, near a village on the Hudson, where he soon made himself as great a favorite as he had been on the Island, and from where the most flattering accounts of him were continually received by Mr. Loxley. He remained in the school for five years, where it is not neo -cessary that we should follow him. He paid occasional visits to the city when he was always cordially received by Mr. Loxley and his old friend Peter Pivot. His education completed, he bade farewell to his books and his school-fellows; -and through the influence of his patron, Mr. Loxley, was admitted as junior clerk in the 1 Bank of Gotham," of which Mr. Samnuel Heaton was president, and in which young Maberly Heaton'had, some time before, been placed. page: 236-237[View Page 236-237] 236 OUT OF TIE STREETS. CHAPTER XXX. "OVE'S YOUNG DREAM. "I loved her well- As 'tis, I leave her To brighter destinies."-BYRON. / hARRY'S experience in (' The Bank of Gotham " was marked for a long time by nothing remarkable. He was naturally quick and intelligent, and being inspired by a feeling of gratitude to- ward Mr. Loxley, who had been so good a friend to him, and to whose generous bounty he owed so much, as well as by an earnest ambition to make a place for himself in the great world, he ne- glected no oportunity which offered itself for the display of his gratitude or his energy, so that he soon found favor in the eyes of those over him, and became, as he had everywhere else, a fa- vorite with all, with one notable exception, Mr. -Maberly Heatoni, Sydhey Heaton's son, who took a dislike to him from the first, and missed no opportunity of making Harry as uncomfortable as possible. Being the grandson of the president, Mr. Samuel Hea- ton, he enjoyed exclusive privileges, so that, although nominally a clerk in the bank, with special duties to perform, he actually made his position a sinecure by the constant neglect of everything which should have fallen to his share, and spent most of his time away from the bank, and in the society of his associates, most of whom were young men, like himself, the sons of rich -parents, and who imagined good clothes, fast horses, Delmonico's, the fashion- able promenade, the theatres, and more questionable places of amusement, constituted the great objects and pursuits of life. Young Maberly, acting on this principle, had become, from a wilful, perverse boy, a reckless young man of the town, a par- ticipant in every mad scheme of folly, thoroughly extravagant in his expenditures, and given to all sorts of dissipation. , g OUT OF THE STREETS. 237 He looked upon Harry-with whose history he was unac- quainted, further than that he was a proltgg of Mr. Foulk Lox- ley's, who had taken him out of the, streets and educated him- as belonging to a lower order of beings than himself, and placed in the position he occupied to be his patient and obedient drudge. Thus it came to pass that the duties he should have performed were performed by Harry, while Maberly contented himself with an occasional visit to his desk for the purpose of giving his orders to his subordinate. Harry urged no objection, but did all that was required of him without murmuring or grumbling. While he was occasionally stung by Maberly's treatment of him, he made no show of re- sentment, but bore all good-naturedly, excusing Maberly's con- duct by the reflection that his position was one which made it unnecessary for him to devote himself to the drudgery of the books, and who was entitled to the privileges he enjoyed in vir- tue of being rich, and the grandson of the highest officer in the institution. On his entrance into the bank, Harry had gone to board in a- house recommended to him by M]r. Loxley, whom he occasionally- saw, and who continued to manifest a warm interest in him; but he saw nothing of Agnes, even on the occasions of his semi-an- nual visits to the city while he was at school, and when he had been at the Loxley mansion, he had met her but once or twice, she having been sent to a fashionable institution at some distance from the city, where she had remained until some time after his return, and it was not till- nearly two years had expired that he and the Lady Agnes met. About this time, Mr. Loxley, while riding in the vicinity of his country-seat, Lindenwilde, had met with an accident, by being thrown from his horse, which had the effect of confining him to his room for some weeks, and, as he and Samuel Heaton were jointly interested in important speculations, it became necessary that a messenger should occasionally be sent with letters and pa- pers to which the signature of Mr. Loxley was necessary. Knowing the warm interest Mr. Loxley took in his proteg, and thinking that Harry would be the most proper person to be sent on these occasions, the president selected him, and for several page: 238-239[View Page 238-239] 238 OUT OF THE STREETS. weeks, immediately after bank hours, Harry was dispatched to Lindenwilde, where ]Mr. Loxley was detained a prisoner by the hurts he had received through his mishap. On making his appearance, he was invariably shown immedi- ately to Mr. Loxley's room, where the invalid banker received him with great kindness and courtesy, and, after reading the let, ters, or signing the papers he had brought, dismissed him with his instructions, so that he might be able to take the next return train to the city; and so it had fallen out that he had ilot seen Agnes or Mrs. Loxley. But one day when he arrived at Lindenwilde, .Mr. Loxley was engaged, and sent a message that he was to wait. He was ac- cordingly shown into a small reception-room, opening on to a veranda, and fronting the large lawn, or rather, park, which sloped down toward the river. As it was probable, from what the servant had said, that he would have to remain some time before Mr. Loxley would be able to see him, Harry tried to amuse himself with one of the numer- ous books which lay scattered about; but the singing of the birds out of doors, the soft, delicious breeze which came in at the open window, the green luxuriousness of the smooth lawn, the glim- mer of the river flowing beyond, which he saw through the trees, combining to forma scene of surpassing and quiet beauty, wooed him from his book, and, passing out through the window, he started out for a stroll toward the river. He wandered on for some time, enjoying the ever-varying beau- ties of the place, until he came upon a clump of trees, in the 'centre of which stood a pretty summer arbor, of light and airy structure. The entrance was on the side opposite to where he stood, and feeling somewhat tired, he resolved to take a seat within the arbor, from which there was a very beautiful view looking up and down the noble river for many miles. As he passed round the outside of the trees and stood suddenly before the entrance, he was startled by seeing a beautiful young girl sitting within, apparently absorbed in the book which lay before her upon a rustic table, and upox which her eyes, shaded by their long and graceful lashes, were fixed. The young man, for it must be remembered that Harry was a boy no longer, but a tall, handsome, manly gentleman, stopped /, OUT OF THE STREETS. 239 suddenly and gazed unobserved upon the beautiful creature before' him. She was in the first flush of womanhood; the glow upon her soft cheeks, in whose dimples young Cupid would have loved to nestle, was delicate as the tints of the anemone, fairest and most delicate of all the forest gems. She leaned her small head upon a tiny hand, white as snow, which was half hidden by the waving tendrils of her beautiful, sunny hair, which fell in a cloud of golden iridescent light over her round and pearly shoulders. A pretty smile played about her pouting, coral lips, provoked by some pleasing thought the volume -had conjured up, and she looked, as she sat there, so pure, so un.- conscious of observation, in an attitude so natural, so full of grace, like some bright being of another sphere, who had assumed the guise of earth to adorn and bless it with her presence. It - was Agnes. Although Harry had not seen her for so long, and remembered her only as a beautiful and artless child, full of kind impulses and genial sympathy, he recognized in those lovely features, and in the mild and sweet expression of the face before him, the more matured development of the little girl he had so admired as a boy, and who had been so grateful to him for the poor service which accident had enabled him to -perform in her behalf. He had often longed to see her, and had hoped, whenever he had visited the house, that he should meet her, but had been as often fated to be disappointed; and now that he had met her so unexpectedly, and saw her in all her young, entrancing beauty, instead of greeting her as he had thought to do, and thanking her for all the kindness which, in years past, she had shown to- ward him, he felt as though he had no right to force a redogni- tion of himself upon her. He felt at once the difference between them; the social gulf which separated them. She, the favored daughter of the princely banker, whose word. was law in Society, and in the world in which he lived; she, the elegant, refined, accomplished heiress, and he; the nameless or- phan, the offspring of he knew not .whom-a waif out of the streets, and only saved from drifting to obscurity, perhaps to in- famy, by her. No, he would not seek an interview; he would page: 240-241[View Page 240-241] 240 OUT OF THE STREETS. pass on out of sight, and think of her no morb, or if he did think of her, it would be as he had known her first, a happy, lovely, generous being, in all the guilelessness of childhood, not as the beautiful woman she had grown to be, the sight of whom had so enchained him. A, in obedience to this impulse, he turned to leave the spot, his foot pressed upon a fallen bough, and caused it to break with a slight noise. The sound startled the fair reader from her book, and, looking up, her heavenly, violet eyes met his, and a blush instantly overspread her face and neck. "Pardon me!"Harry pleaded, seeing her embarrassment. "I came upon this spot without the most distant idea of finding any one, and certainly with no intention of disturbing you. I regret very much that I have intruded upon your privacy, and, craving your pardon for having done so, I will retire;" and he turned away toward the river. "Stay," the young girl said, in a soft, sweet voice. "Do not go away, sir, if you came here to enjoy the beautiful view which is so much admired from this spot. I have overstayed my time, and am about returning to the house. Do not let me drive you away. You will find much to admire from this arbor." "I fear 'tis I who am driving you away,:' Harry replied, "and I should be very sorry to do so, for I must return to the house myself immediately. I came on business with Mr. Loxley, and am afraid he will be annoyed at my prolonged absence." i"Are you the messenger who has come from the city to see papa so often since his accident?" she asked, looking at Harry kindly. "I have had that pleasure," Harry answered. "Then," she replied, extending her hand toward him, in a frank and genial manner, "you are Mr. Wright, are you not? Whom I used to call Harry?" Harry bowed. "Then," she continued, "we are old friends. Do you remem- ber little Agnes, whom you saved from that terrible dog, who frightened her so, and will you not shake hands with me in re- membrance of it? I have not forgotten it, if you have!" "I have not forgotten it," Harry said, as he took the fair hand for an instant and gently pressed it in his own, "and am doubly OUT OF THE STREETS. 241 grateful to think that you still remember so slight a service, for which I have been so generously paid. All that I am or ever hope to be I owe to you, Miss Loxley. I have long wished for an opportunity to say this, to express my gratitude to you, and am very happy to think that a lucky chance enabled me to do so. Believe me, I shall hold you in grateful remembrance as long as I live." "You owe more, much more, to yourself than you do to me, Mr. Wright," she answered, turning to him, and slowly taking her way toward, the house. "Papa speaks highly of you, and says you have more than repaid the little he has done, by your course since he first met you. But we will not discuss the debtor and creditor account between us any further. I am very happy to see you," she continued; "and am so glad that accident brought you to where I was reading myself stupid over that dreadfully absorbing book.". They strolled along the broad path togetner, conversing upon Mr. Loxley's accident, and such topics as naturally suggested themselves, until they reached the house, where Harry met a ser- vant, who had been sent to seek him and bring him to Mr. Lox- ley's room immediately. Agnes and Harry parted at the foot of the stairs, and as he once more took the hand she extended to him, in bidding him farewell, Harry felt as though he could have held it in his own, and have gazed into those beautiful eyes which looked so inno- cently and kindly into his, for ever. But scarcely touching the soft and taper fingers with his own, he released it, and, with a polite "i Good-day," turned to seek Mr. Loxley. His interview with the banker was brief, and at its conclusion he was forced to hasten with all speed in order to reach the train in time, so that he saw no more of Agnes on that occasion; and as she left home a few days afterward to pay a visit to some distant friends, they did not meet again during the summer, at the end of which Mr. Loxley had quite recovered from the effects of his injuries, and Harry's presence at the house was no longer necessary. But the remembrance of Agnes, as she had appeared to him that day, haunted him always. While at his desk, at the bank, wherever he went-in the streets, at home, in his dreams, that page: 242-243[View Page 242-243] 242 OUT OF THE STREETS. sylph-like form, that face, so purely beautiful, those dove-like, sympathetic eyes, her sweet, innocent smile, were ever present in his thoughts. Nor did he struggle to chase the pleasing vision from him. Although he felt that she was far removed from him, that he could never be more-if as much as he had been that day -to her; that the deep, unselfish, all-absorbing love which had grown up in his-soul was hopeless, utterly, still he could worship from afar the being who was enshrined within his heart, and he was happy in his hopeless love. He sometimes heard her spoken of by Maberly Heaton, when he and his associates were conversing, within his hearing, among themselves, of the pleasures of last night's ball or party, and all confessed her beauty; but Maberly spoke of her in the same strain that he might have spoken of a horse, and it made Harry's fingers itch to tweak the young fop's nose as he praised her "style," her " gait," her " action," in his coarse and vulgar way. But this was nothing to the pang he felt one day when Maberly was rallied on being " spoony " on "Aggy "Loxley, and when he heard him offer to wager that she would be his wife some day. Don't- you know," Harry heard him say, to give color to his boast, " we were engaged when we were children? Her mother and mine made the match between us!" Could it be possible, Harry thought, with a pain at his heart which made his brain throb-could it be possible that such a fate as a union with Maberly Heaton could be reserved for one so pure, so delicate, so refined in every thought and feeling? No, no! such a union would be too unnatural. She could never love a being so thoroughly the reverse of herself. She could not, would not, bring herself to the level of his low instincts, and merge her life in his. Still, the idea that Maberly should entertain such a hope, and that it should be sustained by the influence of Mrs. Loxley and Maberly's mother, caused him much uneasiness, and he began to feel a deeper and more rooted repugnance to him than ever. Thus matters stood, when, one evening, feeling depressed in spirits and tired with the exertions of the day, the duties of which Ihad been more than usually arduous, he picked up a newspaper which he had brought home with him, and as he glanced over it, his eye was caught by an announcement of the performance of the OUT OF THE STREETS. 243 opera of "Le Prophete," which was to be produced that evening. He delighted in music, and, having a great curiosity to hear the new opera, he made up his mind to do so. On reaching the opera house, he found every seat down-stairs was already filled, and he was obliged to seek a place in the upper gallery, where he finally succeeded in securing a position from which he could both see and hear. During the entire act, which was in progress as he entered, he was completely absorbed in the beauty and power of the music so that he did not once regard the audience, or pay the slightest attention to anything which was transpiring about him; but when the curtain fell, and the applause had subsided, he turned his eyes to the opposite side of the theatre, and there, seated in a box near the stage, he caught sight of Agnes. She was alone, sitting with her back to the audience, and seemed to be absorbed in thought, or indulging in some reverie, which the music, perhaps, had suggested. She wore a dress of white silk, which was dimmed by the whiteness of her lovely shoulders, which rose above the lace- trimmed corsage; and in her hair she wore a small moss rose; no other ornament. To Harry's eyes she looked more beautiful than ever; and as he gazed upon her, his heart swelled within him, and every nerve thrilled with the emotions which filled his soul. What would he not have given for one moment by her side, for one more clasp of that soft, warm hand, to hear the sweet tones of that loved voice, addressing him in kindest accents? The orchestra burst forth into a loud and thrilling strain, but it fell cold and flat upon his ear; the curtain rose; his eyes turned not toward the stage, but remained fixed on Agnes, who still sat in the same position in which he had first observed her. Presently she seemed to come out of her reverie, and fixed her attention on the stage, listening to the music with rapt interest. She continued thus for some time, when suddenly she started and turned her face toward the back of the box, as if some one had entered; and in a moment Maberly Heaton came forward and took a seat in a chair near her. Even from the distance from which Harry witnessed this, he could see the color mount to her face and neck as the young man page: 244-245[View Page 244-245] 2-41 i OUT OF THE STREETS. made his appearance. What did that blush portend? Was it caused by the pleasure she felt at his presence? Perhaps! and Harry's breast throbbed with the emotion such a thought created, and he watched every look and, movement 'th all interest which dwas intense and painful. Presently young Heaton took a small bouquet from his breast, and offered it to her. She coldly but firmly rejected it, putting his hand, which held it, away from her with her fan. Maberly seemed to insist and grow earnest in his speech; and Harry no- ticed that the same deep blush suffused her cheek and neck that had come over them when he had first appeared, and she turned her face toward the audience, as if seeking for some one whom she hoped to find. Could it be that the presence of this man was hateful to her, and that his manner and his speech were such as to make her feel the necessity of protection from his coarse importunities? Harry's blood boiled at the thought, and, waiting for a few moments, till the -curtain fell, he rushed from his place and made his way down-stairs into the lobby of the first tier, where he took up a position opposite the box, from whence he could see all'that transpired.' But, meanwhile, Maberly had left the box, and Agnes-was again alone, but evidently nervous and uneasy, as she searched through her pearl lorgnette everywhere in the audience, as if seeking for some one. Presently she turned her glass in the direction of where he stood, and he impulsively moved-further forward, and out of the shadow which had partially hid him. The glass was still pointed in his direction, and in a momlent a sort of instinct told him that he was recognized. There was no doubt of it, for Agnes lowered the glass from her eyes, which now met his, and a smile of recognition, accompanied by a slight inclination of her beautiful head, assured him she saw and knew him. Could she have known the feeling which that assurance had in- spired, she would have blushed deeper than she'had just now, but not with indignation; for his every thought of her was pure --the adoration of a noble heart for one it recognized as worthy of a love which was itself religion! As Harry stood thus, almost mad -with the emotions which only , ^ WOUT OF THE STREETS. 245- such a heart as his could feel, he felt himself rudely jostled by some one, and, turning round, he saw Maberly Heaton moving away from him with a swaggering gait, and, with his face turned over his shoulder, looking toward him with a wicked smile upon As he caught Harry's eye, he turned about and came toward him, his face flushed, and with- an unsteadiness of locomotion which bespoke intoxication. "It was I that run against you, Wright," he said, as he came close up to Harry, with difficulty managing to keep his balance. "I thought you wanted rousing, by the way your eyes were fixed on that lady in the box yonder. It's no use, old fellow. She's booked!" - *Harry's first impulse was to stretch the drunken brute upon the floor with , blow of his fist, and he clinched his hand in obedience to the impulse; but he restrained himself by a powerful effort, and looking Maberly in the face, said: "Leave me! I am in no humor to listen to your jests or your confidence! If your are acquainted with that lady, you show very little respect for her!" "All right. Sour grapes-eh?" he answered, lightly, as he staggered away, and was lost among the crowd. But, in a few moments, what was Harry's surprise and indig- nation at seeing him, for the second time, enter Agnes's box, while the same deep blush once more overspread her face! M[aberly went toward her, and seemed to be urging 'her to do something which was distasteful to her, as she shook her head, and turned away her face. Finally, he took a seat- close to her, but out of the view of the audience, and offered to take her hand. Agnes withdrew it quickly, rose to her feet in great agitation, and cast a pleading look in the direction of the place where she had seen Harry. He knew what that look meant as well as if she had spoken to him, and without waiting a moment, he flew through the lobby, and quickly reached the door of the box, which stood ajar. He pushed it open, and entered, hat in hand. "Oh, Mr. Wright," Agnes exclaimed rising, , it was so kind of you to come. Papa has gone, and has been detained from some page: 246-247[View Page 246-247] 246 OUT OF THE STREETS cause, and I do not feel well. Will you show me to my car- riage?" - "With pleasure," Harry said, advancing and offering his arm, which she was about to take, when Maberly came between them, saying: "Who are you? What business have you here? ' "Who am I? You know very well, Maberly Heaton," Harry answered, as coolly as he could. "My business here is to escort this lady to her carriage, and, if necessary, to protect her at all hazards from insult or annoyance." Then, turning to Agnes, he added, "I am at your service, Miss Loxley," and again offered his arm., Agnes took it, and allowed herself to be led, half fainting, out of the theatre. The carriage was close by, and, as Harry opened the door, and assisted her in, she turned her face toward him, saying: "You have done me a second great service, Mr. Wright, for which I am more than ever grateful. I do not know how to thank you. How fortunate that you were there and recognized me! I was so frightened!" "It was very kind of you," Harry replied, " to think of me at such a time, for I know no greater happiness than to serve you." "Do not go back to the theatre," she said, quickly. "He is not himself to-night, and might make a scene. You will prom- ise me?" "I will," Harry responded. "a Thank you, again!" "Good-night!'5 Harry said, as he closed the door. "Good-night!" she responded, putting her gloved hand to the window. Harry seized it, pressed it to his lips for a single moment, and, muttering "God bless you!" to himself, turned away as the car- riage was driven off. In fulfillment of his promise, not to return to the theatre, which had now no charms for him, he started toward his home, and had proceeded but a step or two, when he felt a smart blow upon the shoulder, and, turning round, he stood face to face with Maberly Heaton, who instantly exclaimed: "I have an account to settle with you!" -I, OUT OF THE STREETS. 247 ( Begone! Harry replied. "Leave me! You are drunk!" !"You are a liar!"Maberly responded, at the same time mak- ing a blow at Harry with his fist. Harry parried the blow without returning it, when Maberly drew a pistol from his pocket, and cocked it. He. was about to raise it, when Harry, taking a step backward, with a well-directed blow knocked him down. "Served him right, the drunken fool!" was the commentary of a policeman who stood by and witnessed the affair. "Hie is always getting himself into some scrape or another," he added, assisting Maberly to rise; " but you'd better get away. I might lhave to take him in." Harry profited by the suggestion, and left the spot, a prey to the most conflicting emotions of joy and pain, page: 248-249[View Page 248-249] 248 OUT OF THE STREETS. CHAPTER XXXI THE RIVALS. = Oh I the pain of pains Is when the fair one, whom our soul is fond of. Gives transport, and receives it from another."--GAY. FOR several days after the rencontre betwixt Harry and Maberly Heaton, the latter remained away from the bank, and so the young men did not meet; but one day, after bank hours, and while Harry was busy, at his desk, Maberly approached him, and, touching him on the shoulder, said: "I want to see you, sir! Will you step into the president's office? There is no one there!" - "If you will wait till I finish these few entries, in order that the-books may be put away, I shall be at your service, Mr. Hea- ton," Harry replied, politely. , "Very well,"' M[aberly answered, turning away, "I will wait for you there." Wondering what the result of the interview would be, and deter- mined to maintain his self-respect at all hazards, Harry finished his duties at the desk as quickly as possible, and then repaired to the president's room, where he found ]Maberly sitting in one of the large arm-chairs, with his feet elevated upon the table before him, and with a look full of sneering insolence upon his face, which was still slightly swollen and discolored from the -effects of the blow he had received. Harry entered the room and closed the ,door after him, while Maberly, rising to his feet and confronting him, said: You struck me the other night!" "And thereby prevented you from doing a murder, perhaps,"9 Harry responded. "I was in hopes, Mr. Heaton, that, on reflec- tion, you would have seen and have acknowledged yourself that OUT OF THE STREETS. 249 all that occurred was brought about by your own acts, and that you would not allude to the unpleasant subject again.5" i( That's not my style!"Maberly answered, with a swagger. ,' You struck me because I resented your impertinent interference, and if you were a gentleman, instead of the beggar----" i"Stop!" said Harry, approaching the young man, with a look of determination in his face, yet speaking calmly, and without excitement. "Stop! I will not allow you, sir, to say a word which, whether 1 am a gentleman or not, a gentleman should not listen to I I did not seek "this interview; I am here at your re- quest, and shall only remain so long as you treat me with the respect and consideration it is my right and my duty to exact from every one. My interference on the occasion you refer to," Harry continued, " was called for by your conduct, and by the appeal of the lady herself, who asked me to protect her from your insults. My manhood would have prompted me to have done exactly as I did had the lady been a stranger to me, but as she was the daughter of a gentleman to whom I owe everything- my best friend, my benefactor-she had claims upon my grati- tude, as well as on my manhood, which no consideration on earth could have induced me to forget." "Then you have no apology to make to me?"Maberly asked, in great irritation. "None whatever! Harry replied, calmly, and looking Maberly full in the eyes. "d None, sir. I regret very much the whole affair, more particularly for the lady's sake, but were I called upon, under the same circumstances, I should not hesitate to do the same thing again." "You take a deep interest in the lady, it seems to me," Ma- berly said, angrily. "What is she to you, or what can you ever be to her, that you should be such a champion for her-?" "I take the same interest in her that I should take in any other lady who needed and asked for my protection," Harry answered. "She has a double claim upon me-first as a woman, and as the daughter of Mr. Loxley, to whom I am under many obligations." "But do you know," asked Maberly, slapping his hand on the table with force, cc that Agnes Loxley is to be my wife?" These words stung Harry deeply, but he concealed his feelings, and responded calmly: page: 250-251[View Page 250-251] 250 PUT OF THE STREETS. "That is a matter with which I have nothing to do. If it be so, your conduct seems to me to have been all the more blamable. I do not wish to say anything to irritate you, but you must excuse me if I express the opinion that Agnes Loxley will never be your wife!" "Indeed! And who made you aprophet?" iMaberly answered, sneeringly. "Perhaps you have designs upon her yourself. She is rich; she would be a prize for a fellow like you, without a dollar, without a name, without----" "Whatever else that I am without," Harry exclaimed, inter- rupting him, "I am not without self-respect, and the courage to resent an insult! That I am poor, without family; that I am beholden to the generosity and kindness of others for all that I am, contrasted with all that I might have been, I confess and confess it, too, without a blush, for my position in the world was not of my own making! You have all that you taunt me with lacking--wealth, family, a name-but in all else I am your equal, and I would not allow you to impugn my motives, to cast a slur upon my honor, or utter one word which can be construed into an insult, were you a king's son and I a beggar." Maberly's face grew pale with anger, but there was that in Harry's words and look that compelled his respect, and bade him beware how he goaded him further. He repressed the angry re- tort which had risen to his lips, and turning away, said: "Oh, very well! I have given you a chance to do the right thing. If you don't choose to do it, that's your' lookout. You might better have had me for a friend than an enemy, but you have taken your choice. I don't forgive easily, and I give you warning, I'll get even!" "Your threats do not frighten me," Harry replied. "All right," Maberly answered, going toward the door--" all right; but look out for me e You can win money if you bet that- I'll get even!" "Whatever course you may take," Harry responded, "I shall not swerve from mine. As I have said before, I regret the neces- sity which made my conduct an imperative duty. I bear you no malice, no ill will. I have not sought your enmity; but shall not allow myself to be influenced by anything you may do or threat- en!" OUT OF THE STREETS, 251 "All right! We shall see!"Maberly responded, with a ma- lignant look, as he left the room and hastened from the bank. From -this time forward no words passed between the young men except on matters connected with the affairs of the bank, and at last even this slight intercourse was broken up, for Maberly absented himself from the bank almost entirely. He was often closeted for a long time together with Mr. Samuel Heaton, his grandfather, and it was gossiped among the clerks that young Heaton was speculating heavily in stocks, and that Mr. Samuel Heaton shared in his ventures. Thus things went on for some time without the occurrence of anything remarkable. Harry saw Agnes but seldom, and then but from a distance, the only signs of recognition on such rare occasions having been a smile from her, and a responsive bow from him. She grew more beautiful every day, and had become the reign- ing belle of Society, and an object of worship to all who came within the charmed sphere of her fascinations. Maberly Heaton had endeavored by every means in his power to atone for the pain and mortification he had caused her; but she received his explanations and apologies with a cold disdain which stung him to the quick, and the assiduous attentions which he struggled to show her on all occasions were repelled in a man- ner which proved how utterly repugnant such attentions were to her. On more than one occasion Agnes had been compelled to openly avow her disinclination for his society, and haa threatened, un-. less he discontinfued his persecution of her, to appeal to her father. One evening, at a ball at Mrs. Sydney Heaton's, Mabeyly had discovered Agnes sitting alone near - the window which opened- upon the conservatory. The principal part of the guests were gathered in the ftopt room around a celebrated singer, who had been especially asked, as the lion of the evening, and who was giving the "FPra poco from "Lu- cia " in a magnificent manner, to the great delight of the dilettanti who crowded about him. Agnes sat pensively gazing at a small bouquet of flowers which she held in her hand, her thoughts evidently fay away, so that. she did not notice Maberly's approach. 4 k1, e page: 252-253[View Page 252-253] 252 OUT OF THE STREETS. "Good-evening, Miss Agnes," Maberly said, touching her gently upon the shoulder. She started, like one suddenly aroused as from a pleasant dream, and looking up, recognized Maberly. Instantly a look of annoy- ance took the place of the placid expression her face had worn before, and she replied to his salutation only with a slight bow. "You are pensive to-night,?"Maberly said;!" or were you lis- tening to thfe singing?" "No," she replied " but I should, I suppose, at least pretend to do so," she added, half rising. "No; do' not go away," Maberly urged. "I have something to say to you!" "Excuse me," she responded. "My absence will be noticed. I have been dancing, and feeling fatigued, I hid myself here to rest for a moment. I have remained too long away." "Stay one momont," M[aberly still urged. "Are you engaged for the next dance?" "No," she replied. "May I have the pleasure?" he asked. "I shall not dance. I pray you excuse me." "You -are cruel."' "Perhaps.' "I am sure of it. Why do you leave me whenever I approach you, and treat me with such coldness?" "Mr. Heaton," she replied, "( I must again ask you to cease questioning me in regard to my manner toward you!" "But you drive me to desperation," he said, earnestly, bending over the back of her chair and almost whispering in her ear. "I can bear it no longer! Why will you be so heartless and cold to one who loves you as I do?" A deep blush overspread her face, and, rising, in spite of the effort he made to detain her, she replied: "f M[. Heaton, I told you; the last time that you dared to ad- dress similar words to me, that such protestations, were utterly distasteful to me, and that I never wished to hear them from your lips again. Leave me, sir!" ": From my lips!" he repeated. "Are there other lips from which such an avowal would be less distasteful to you? ' i"The question is worthy of you, MLaberly Heaton," she replied, OUT OF THE STREETS., 253 with bitterness. "As courteous and refined as I could expect from one who has given lme such proofs of the delicacy and con- sideration which inspires him to force his presence and his dec- larations of love on one who would avoid both!" i( The question is fair," he answered, " from one who, from a boy, has looked upon you as his future wife. If I have a rival, it is right that I should know it." "You have no claim to my consiaeratlon or my confidence," she answered; "for the consideration I have for so long shown you has been .useless. I will show no more. If you do not desist from this cruel persecution of me, I shall be obliged to seek protection from your presence, as I have been obliged to seek pro- tection from your insulting importunities. Leave me, and never refer to this subject again." "Your reference to the only occasion on which you sought the protection you speak of," he answered, 6" makes me think you in- tend to call upon the same valiant champion again. Perhaps if Mr. Harry Wright-a hero, I suppose, in your eyes, because there is a romantic mystery about him-had been here in my place, you would not talk of persecution, or threaten him with seeking protection from his presence and his importunities!" "Mr. Heaton!" "Oh, yes," he answer, now thoroughly beside himself with mortification and hate of Harry; "I understand. It is not the first time that a beautiful woman, rich, accomplished, and all that sort of thing, has fallen in love with some beggarly adventurer- a nobody, without name, money, connections or anything else, except impudence and a smooth tongue!. I have read about such things. I know his game, and I'll spoil it! A fellow picked up out of the streets! "Silence!" she exclaimed. "Silence, sir, or I will, at the risk of making a scene, declare you, in the presence. of your mother and her guests, the coward and the ruffian that you are! The per- son you speak of-were you fifty times better then you are-is more than your peer. Nameless, poor, alone in all the world as he is, he is a man! Yes, a gentleman, before whom such as you should bow your head; for he would never bring a blush of shame upon a woman's face, or sting her ears with insult!" As Agnes uttered these words, which cut to Maberly's very page: 254-255[View Page 254-255] 254 OUT OF THE STREETS. soul, she waved him from her with her hand, and swept proudly past him, leaving him crest-fallen, shame-stricken, and with his heart full of rage and hete. Could Harry have been there, to have listened to her brave and earnest words, spoken in his defence; could he have seen how her bosom heaved and her byes flashed as she listened to the sneers which Maberly uttered; and could he have known the respect and esteem which she felt for him, and which prompted the re- buke, what a great recompense it would have been to him, who loved her in silence from afar, and from whom one smile, one kind word, one look of sympathy, would have been prized beyond all earthly treasure! Did she love him, then? Was it possible that this beautiful creature, the spoiled pet of fortune, the idol of her haughty father, the pride of her mother, the centre of attraction wherever she moved; she, around whom fluttered the lords of Society; at whose feet they knelt, and from whence they arose humbled and abashed at her cool rejection of all their flattering vows of love and disinterested admiration; could she, the great heiress, whose fortune none might count; upon whose hands, and in whose sunny hair, diamonds blazed and sparkled-could she love the man whom she had known, first, as a ragged, homeless boy, and and afterward as a dependent on her father's bounty? Could she so far forget her beauty,-her father's haughtiness, her mother's pride, the expectations of Society, the worth of all the offers she received from men of her own sphere-could she forget her own wealth and his poverty; her great social height and the gulf which yawned between that, his humbleness? Could she ignore or overlook all this so far as to love him, whom Society would have bade her scorn, Pride hate, and Wealth despise? And why not? He was a man to love-a true, honest, earnest man, with a purpose in life. A great, generous heart, and a truthful soul, to give impulse to his feelings and to prompt his energies. If she compared him with the horde of simpering men who fluttered and buzzed about her, and contrasted his manliness with their sickening maudliness, his brave earnestness in the path of duty with their paltry motives and small ambitions, he was the, gainer by the contrast. He recognized his position and the diffi- culties which stood in the way of his advancement, and was not OUT OF THE STREETS. 255 cocwed by them, but dared to meet them boldly, with a determin- aion to overcome and surmount them; and how the contrast ele- vated him beyond her own surroundings! She had sympathized with him, when, as a boy, out of the streets, he stood, ragged and unkempt, before her proud father. Her young heart had gone out to him from the first time she had seen him; she was moved by the loneliness of his position- fatherless and motherless, a poor little waif cast upon the world, a prey to all its temptations, its buffetings and its sufferings, and yet keeping his soul pure and free from the contamination which surrounded him on every hand. She had listened with pride when she had heard his progress at school remarked, and the praises which all bestowed upon him.; and when he returned, a handsome, comely young man, and en- tered upon the duties which had been assigned him with such earnestness and fidelity, a feeling of thankfulness toward him took possession of her, that he had realized so well all that she had hoped for him. What wonder then that, after their meeting in the country on that bright summer afternoon, she should often think of him, should call his handsome, manly face to mind, and ponder on his words! How bravely, how readily, he had come to her that night at the theatre, when his quick instinct told him she needed his pres- ence. With what respect, unmixed with servile truckling, he had addressed her, and how considerately he had conducted himself since. These thoughts had passed through her mind very often, but never had she realized the full effect of them upon her feelings until that night, when Maberly had spoken of him in words of such bitter scorn. She had been used to listen only to his praise, and his dispar- agement stung her to the quick. She resented it with a warmth she had never felt before, and from that hour, she hated Maberly as much as she had formerly despised him, while in her heart the flame of love, which long had smoldered there, burst forth into a steady, ardent glow. Maberly suspected this. He saw how she had fired at his words, and his jealous nature had jumped to the conclusion at once. Her very look and manner, the tones of her voice when she spoke page: 256-257[View Page 256-257] 256 OUT OF THE STREETS. of him, all were proofs strong as certainty itself that the man he hated, and professed to despise-but could not, for Harry's noble- ness had made itself felt, even upon him-had usurped the place in her heart he had tried to make his own. *- i OUT OF THE STREETS, 257 CHAPTER XXXII. A DEFALCATION IN WALL-STREET, AND HOW IT WAS MANAGED. "Oh what a goodly outside falsehood hath."-SHAKESPEARE. MiABERLY HEATON was not one to entertain such convictions and allow himself to be pushed aside without a struggle, and he determined that, come what would, Harry should not wear the prize he had coveted, and would have won himself. He breathed no word of his suspicions to any one, but went on in his old way, growing day by day more reckless in his specula- tions in "4The Street," and in the "Board," to which he had been admitted. His losses were often heavy, but still he managed by some means to "make his margins good," -and keep up his standing with those with whom he had to do. But, at last, an unlucky " corner," contrived, as it so happened, by old Peter Maberly himself, who never dreame& of emeshing his own grandson in the net which he had spread for larger fish, proved too much for him, and he was among the breakers, nor he alone, but the gentlemanly Mr. Samuel Heaton as well. Ruin, disgrace, bankruptcy, stared him in the face, and so grandsire and grandson held a consultation one fine afternoon, in the office of the bank, where the interview had taken place be- tween Harry and Maberly. Mr. Samuel Heaton is sitting in a very graceful positidn in his large arm-chair, biting delicately at the nail of his dainty little finger, upon which a solitaire ring of great lustre sparkles and quivers in the sunlight, which comes streaming through the fan- light overhead. Maberly is sitting near him, and is engaged in making a calcu- lation upon a small slip of paper before him. By-and-by he pauses and looks up at his grandfather with a perplexed look. page: 258-259[View Page 258-259] 258 OUT OF THE STREETS. "Well?" asked that handsome elderly smiling financier. "How is it? Pretty heavy, eh?" "So heavy," Maberly replied, "that we can never carry it. The differences amount to just two hundred and seventy-eight thousand dollars!" Well, we must make them good," Mr. Heaton answered. , But how?" asked the young man. "I'm done up! I can't call upon old Peter any more. He's played out. The governor is nearly as deep in the mire as we are, and will have as much as he can do to shoulder his own liabilities. You; you say, are not able to dig out. So, what's to be done?" "We must have the money, my dear boy," Mr. Samuel an- swered, in a soft and gentle manner. "It would never do to 'make a lame duck of you at your time of life, just standing out in such a brilliant, dashing way. We must have the money. We are sure to make up the loss on Harlem by the rise in Erie. Two days will bring the matter round all right." "( Yes, that is all very well," the young man urged; " but the stock is to be delivered to-morrow, and the differences must be paid, or overboard we go." "( We must borrow the money from thebank," Mr. Heaton said, blandly. ," The directors would laugh at me if I should but hint at such a thing," Maberly said, shortly. t: There is no necessity of- consulting them!"Mr. Heaton sug- gested, tickling his gums with a gold toothpick. "We shall re- turn the funds by Saturday, and, meanwhile, they will not be needed."' The young man stared at his respectable grandsire with a look of doubt and astonishment. "Pshaw! my dear fellow, don't gaze at me in that way," said the sensitive Mr. Samuel, querulously. "It makes me nervous. You understand me, I see. It is a common thing. A line or two on young Wright's books will make all seem right until the mat- ter is arranged, and he can be sent out of the way in case of accident." Maberly did not answer for a time, but looked at his respectable progenitor more intently than ever; in fact, regarded him so in- tently that he was forced to pretend to make a little sum in simple OUT OF THE STREETS. 259 addition in the blotting pad before him, in order to avoid the look, it made the sensitive gentleman so nervous. Maberly comlprelended the full scope of the idea suggested at once. By following out this plan the money might be raised with safety to himself, while it would enable him to remove Harry from his path, and, in case of any accident, ruin and disgrace him at the same time irretrievably. It was very tempting, the more so because it was so safe. They had but to abstract the money from the funds of the bank, cause a few false entries to be made in Harry's book, which could easily be done by means of forged vouchers put into his hands, which could be abstracted in their turn; and in case they were not able to restore the money, and an investigation took place, Harry would appear a defaulter, and suffer accordingly, while the really guilty parties would not even be suspected. "Are you sure the plan can be carried out,?!"Maberly asked, after turning the matter over in his mind, and arriving at the conclusions we have seen. 4( To be sure,"' answered Mr. Heaton. "It has been often done before. At least," he added, checking himself with a slight cough, I suppose it has. It is very simple." A short time enabled them to further mature this notable scheme, and grandsire and grandson broke up the conference, and - retired their several ways, with their minds perfectly easy in re- gard to the means of making their differences good on the mor- row. The corner was safely passed, and young Heaton's credit was maintained, while Mr. Samuel Heaton carried his head high. in the consciousness that he had weathered the storm. But Erie is uncertain as Harlem, on occasion, and refused to rise, as Mr. Heaton had expected, and as it ought to have done, if it lead had any regard for the peace of mind of that very excel- lent gentleman- and so far from being able to make good the amount abstracted from the vaults of the bank, it became necessary for them to make another draft upon the same source, which was done by the same means, Harry being made the innocent means of covering the transaction by means of the entries he made fromn the false vouchers, which had been prepared and adroitly put into his hand for the occasion. page: 260-261[View Page 260-261] 260 OUT OF THE STREETS. This desperate game was played for some time, but never did fortune smile upon the players long enough to enable them to- make up the deficit. At last the crisis came. There was a panic in the street. One or two large houses that had been tottering for some time, went by the board. Stocks went down as fast as the mercury in Green- land, the money-market grew tight, confidence was weak every- where, and a general commercial and financial crash grew immi. nent. The directors of the Bank of Gotham nela meetings to consult as to their course under the circumstances; the affairs of the bank were to be looked into, the defalcations would be discovered and Mr. Samuel Heaton grew more nervous than ever. He must act, and quickly, or all would be exposed; so one morning he sent for Harry to come to his private room. Mr. Heaton received him with his usual suavity of manner; and pointing to a chair opposite, asked him to be seated. "I have sent for you, Mr. 5Wright," Mr. Samuel began, " to -make you a proposition which will materially advance your in- terests, should you accept it." "You are very kind, Mr. Heaton," Harry answered, in some surprise. "Your course, since your entrance into the bank, through the recommendation of Mr. Loxley, has been, I am happy to say, thoroughly satisfactory to the officers and directors of the insti- tution."' "I have endeavored to do my duty," Harry answered, "and am very glad to learn that my efforts have been appreciated." ," You may judge," Mr. Heaton continued, "how much confi- dence we have in you, when I inform you, that, after due con- sultation, you have been selected as the most proper person to be sent to San Francisco for the purpose of establishing a branch of the bank at that place." Harry was completely taken aback by the suddenness of the announcement. It took away his breath, and he could only gaze at Mr. Heaton, and repeat: ( Me! San Francisco!" "You are surprised," Mr. Heaton continued. "I do not won- der at it. It is not often such an opportunity occurs, promising OUT OF THE STREETS. 261 so fine an opening for a young man just commencing life. But you may thank yourself for it, Mr. Wright. We have noticed your steadiness, your industry, your energy and aptitude in financial matters, and have resolved to offer you the opening. Do you accept it? ' I am, of .course, proud of the perference you have shown, Mr. Heaton," Harry answered, after recovering from his astonish- ment; ' but I fear you have over-estimated my poor abilities. I have not courage to accept the place. I fear I should not fulfill the expectations you have of me." "s Pshaw! My dear young man, if the directors and officers of the bank are satisfied, if I am satisfied-which I beg to assure you I am--I hope you will not allow your modesty, which, of course, is very creditable to you, to stand in the way of your ad- vancement. But you must decide immediately; and let me tell you, my young friend, such an opening presents itself but once In a lifetime." "When should I leave?"Harry asked. "The steamer sails to morrow," Mr. Heaton answered. "Re- member what Shakespeare says: ' There is a tide in the affairs of men, which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune."' "To-morrow!"Harry repeated. "So soon?P "tou will go out with written instructions. Your first duties will be to lookabout you and make inquiries into the condition of commercial and financial affairs there-to secure the proper building and accommodations, and organize the business." Harry did not fail to see the immense advantages which must accrue to him, should he accept this new position. It opened prospects to him of which he had scarcely dreamed, and' his heart beat loud with the hopes that sprung up as he contemplated this sudden change in the whole aspect of his future. One hope, wilder, more bewildering than all the rest, filled his ardent soul, and made his blood tingle and his brain throb almost to bursting. That hope was Agnes. It might tear down the barrier which now rose up between him and her whom he so dearly, and, until now, had so hopelessly ioved. He might win fortune, position, a name--all that he lacked to make him worthy to tell her he loved her, and give him page: 262-263[View Page 262-263] 262 OUT OF THE STREETS. courage to dare to win her love in return. Oh, glorious hope! How it inspired him! What could he not do-what would he not essay-to bring it to fruition?" "Well, Mr. Wright, have you considered the matter?"Mr. Heaton asked, after a pause, during which these happy thoughts were passing through Harry's mind. "Shall I have your an. swer? "The proposition was so sudden, so unexpected, so much be- yond anything I have ever thought of for myself," Harry an- swered, rising, " that it almost frightened me. I am thoroughly sensible of the high compliment that has been paid me by your- self and the other officers of the bank, by the selection they have made, and most gratefully accept the place. Please express this to them for me, and say that no effort that I can make shall be lacking, to prove that they have not misplaced their confidence either in my abilities or zeal." "I am sure of it," Mr. Heaton exclaimed, rising and extending his hand to Harry, who shook it warmly; " and you have done wisely in accepting. 'Hasten your preparations, then, and say nothing to any one connected with the bank or out of it in re- gard to the matter. We do not care to have our plans made pub- lic. Here," he continued, taking a package of bank bills from a drawer, " are the funds for your necessary expenses. You will find them ample. Letters of instruction will be sent after you to San Francisco. It will not be necessary for you to return to the bank. You have only to make your arrangements, secure your state-room in the steamer, and be ready to sail at twelve to- morrow. You will advise me immediately on your arrival, and will receive full instructions by the next steamer. Good-by, and success attend you." Harry shook Mr. Heaton's hand warmly once more, and, with many expressions of thanks, left the bank, his whole soul filled with joy and delight-new-born hopes for the future. His first step was to secure his passage upon the steamer which sailed the following day, and then made all the necessary prepa- rations for his voyage. This done, he called upon his old friend Peter Pivot, with whom he was always a welcome guest. OUT OF THE STREETS. 263 The genial undertaker received him with both hands, exclaim- ing: "Ah, 'ere you are, 'Arry, my boy. Look as fresh as a daisy. Well, and 'ow do you get on?" "Better than ever," Harry answered. "But I am come to say- good-by, Mr. Pivot." "Good-by! Why, where are you going, eh?" "That is a secret." "A secret? "Yes; I am going on business for the bank, and was to say nothing of my purposes or destination." "Well, that is h'odd; the h'oddest thing I ever 'eard of. But you may tell me. I'll be as dumb as a h'oyster," Peter urged in a persuasive manner. "No. Not even to you, my good friend, although I know the secret would be safe in your hands. I will write to you and tell you all about it some day, and come back to you, I hope, to find you as well and jolly as ever." "Wery well; if I am not to anticipate in the secret, I'm not It don't much matter. You'll do good wherever you go." "Then I'll just pop in and say good-by to Mrs. Pivot, and then I must be off. I couldn't go without seeing you first." "It would have been the most fragrant thing I ever 'eard of if you 'ad,"' Peter exclaimed, indignant at the mnere thought of such a slight. "But come along; Mrs. P. is 'ardly fit to be seen, but she won't mind you." "Is she ill?"Harry asked. "No. Not exactly h'ill, you know, but there's another little Pivot expected. "What! another?" "Oh, yes; Mrs. P. thinks that there can't be too many pivots. She says the world turns on a pivot." "You are facetious, Peter," Harry observed, laughing. "Not a bad joke for me-is it? I'm not much on conundrums, but I'm a great repertoire.' Harry smiled, and without stopping to inquire what Peter meant by declaring himself a repertoire, paid his comphments to Mrs. Pivot, and bidding his old friend a hearty farewell, kio- page: 264-265[View Page 264-265] 264 OUT OF THE STREETS. ceeded toward Mr. Loxley's mansion, with the determination of seeing Agnes once more before he left her, perhaps for ever. Bat he was fated to disappointment. Neither Mr. Loxley or his daughter were at home, so leaving the packet of papers for Mr. Loxley, which he had made the pretext for his visit, he turned away from the door, saddened to think that he must de- part without seeing her whom he loved, yet consoled by the thought that, when he should return, he might dare to declare his love to her with hope of its return. OUT OF T1E STREETS. 265 tHAPTEr xXxrIL. rX THE MESH-THE DEFALCATION-MR. LOXLEY BALANCES HS ACCOUNTS. "Farewell!-a word which has been and which must be."--BYRON. THE next day Harry repaired on board the vessel which was, as he thought, to bear him to the scene of his future successes, to the land of gold! El Dorado indeed, to him, for there he was to reap wealth, honors, all! The noise and bustle of the upper-deck grated upon his ear, and he sought the retirement of his state-room as soon as he went bn board, where he remained until he heard the signal-gun which announced that they had started on their way. He hastened to the stern of the vessel, where a large crowd had gathered, ex- changing parting salutations with their friends upon the pier. As he looked toward the spot which they had left, standing upon the end of the wharf, alone, he recognized, much to his surprise, the form and face of Maberly Heaton. Harry immediately stood upon the seat beside him, thus making himself conspicuous among the crowd by whom he was surrounded, and as he did so, Maberly recognized him apparently,' for he waved a handkerchief toward him, to which Harry, supposing it to be a token of peace between them, replied by waving his. What was his surprise, therefore, at seeing Maberly, as soon as he saw his signal answered, point at him. derisively, and then shake his fist in an excited manner after, him. "Poor weak fellow!"Harry thought to himself, as he turned away. "tHe is not worth my anger. I can well afford to forgive this show of petty spite and malice. But I wonder how he learned that I was to sail?"' He dismissed the subject from his mind, and stood watching the fast-receding city, as, having passed the Battery, the noble page: 266-267[View Page 266-267] 266 OUT OF THE STREETS. ship ploughed her course down the lovely bay. His whole life passed in review before him. He saw himself again a little rag- ged urchin, sitting with the sharp Pimples upon the string-piece of the pier, and relating his escape from Dick; he thought of the vagabond life he had led, of his first meeting with little Agnes, his last interview with her, and his quarrel with Maberly. He wondered if she would think of him, if she would inquire atter him, if he should ever receive a word or message from her alnd as he reflected how little she had seen of him, and the difference between her position and his own, he felt how unlikely it was that she should bestow a thought upon him, and the hopes he had cherished but an hour ago seemed to fade away and mock him with their fallacy. Every moment served to separate him farther from her and to widen the gulf between them. Naught remained to him now but the little ring which, years ago, in her gratitude, she had given him, and taking it from his breast, where it had been relig- iously kept as a sacred thing, from that day until the present, he pressed it to his lips, and turned his gaze seaward with a heavy sigh. A few days after Harry's departure, flying rumors began to be heard in the streets of a large defalcation in one of the city )anks. The gossip spread, and by-and-by found its way into 'he news- papers. Conjecture was rife as to which bank it was, anld Low much the defalcation amounted to. Some set it at a Iaiihon, others at half that amount, and others pooh-poohed the whole story, and vowed there had been no defalcation at all, A t last the papers got upon the scent. The rumor was eiRted to its source, and the next morning each one announced, in flar- inug capitals at the head of its columns, "Large Defaleation in tile Bankl of Gotham! Over Three Hundred Thousand Dolliars Ab- stracted from the Funds of the Bank The Defaulter Aoscon ile. N'o Arrests! Letter from the Cashier." Then followed all the particulars. giving the. name of Iarry as the abscondring clerk, and relating how the excitemets of etock speculations, ani the temptations of the gaming-table, had ;teel the cause of his crime; how he had carried on the system for 9 long time undiscovered, by means of false entries; and how. fear ing an investigation had been ordered, he had taken time by the OUT OF THE STREETS. 267 forelock and gone to parts unknown; "probably," the papers said, "to Europe, to spend his ill-gotten gains." After this followed a letter from Samuel Heaton, in which ho stated that the missing amount was not so large as at first sup- posed; that the greater portion of the money would be event- ually recovered, and that the Bank of Gotham was in a perfectly sound and solvent condition. The report of the affair created great excitement and specula- tion. The press wrote whole columns to show how loosely the affairs of the bank were conducted, and that the officers of mo- neyed institutions should keep a sharp eye upon the clerks and bank-tellers. All sorts of rumors were put afloat in regard to Harry's habits and associations, all contradictory in their nature, and none of them true ;- and so the " great defalcation " became a nine-days' wonder, and was then forgotten, to make room for fresh excitements. One evening, while the topic was at the height of its discussion, Maberly Heaton met Agnes in her father's house, where he called to see Mr. Loxley on some business, which Sydney Heaton, not, being able to leave his room on account of illness, had requested him to transact. Mr. Loxley was engaged in the library, so Maberly was shown into the parlor, where he met Agnes, who rose to retire as soon as she saw him. She was pale, her face wore an expression of deep sorrow, and she had evidently been weeping, for her eyes were red, as if with tears. "Excuse me, Miss Agnes," Maberly said. 'Do not let me drive you away. I suppose you have heard the news of the de- falcation?" "I have," Agnes answered; " and very sorry I have been to hear it." I I thought, when you defended him so warmly, long ago, that you would find your paragon of perfection would turn out a bogus hero, after all,"' Maberly said. "I knew him better than you did. I suppose you are ready to agree with me now?') "No," she answered; "my opinion of Mr. Wright has not changed." "Not changed, after this enormous theft!" Maberly ex- claimed. page: 268-269[View Page 268-269] 268 OUT OF TH BtEETS. "I do not believe the charge madk against him! I do not be- lieve that he took the money," she /nswered, calmly. "But the proofs are conclusive," Maberly urged. "There is no getting away from them. The money is gone, and there are the false entries in his own handwriting. You women are so obstinate!" "It is not obstinacy, Mr. Heaton; it is my faith in his nature. His whole life gives the lie to this false accusation!" "His life! why, he was a thief from his birth!I Maberly said, with excitement; "a street vagabond, the associate of thieves and vile creatures like himself!" "If you knew," Agnes answered, "how you lowered yourself in my esteem by such uncharitable and wicked words, you would not use them, Mr. Heaton. I assert, again and again, I do not be- lieve this cruel charge against him. I have known him long, and watched him well, form the time I first met him, and he bravely in- terposed his boyish from betwixt me and peril; he has been never known to do a mean or a disreputable thing. No one ever spoke a word in his dispraise, save you; and I know your motive and your hatred of him too well to heed your words, except to despise them! The whole affair is a mystery to me, which I cannot fathom. There has been some fearful mistake, or," she continued, looking Maberly full in the face, " there has been some horrid treachery at work, which time will one day reveal! Let it be either, or both, my faith in Harry Wright is not shaken. I shall live to see him come back to repel this wicked charge, and stand before the world acquitted, without shame, and without reproach ] " That time will never come," Maberly retorted, with sup- pressed rage. "It -will come!"Agnes answered; "and when it does, those who have put this cruel shame upon him shall know- what retri- bution means I Again I say, I do not believe the false report. I. would stake my life and soul upon his truth and honor!" *"We shall see," Maberly said; "we shall see 1" "I will not remain to discuss the matter further," Agnes said, resuming her usual calm tone, "but will leave you to reflect on your success in coming here to taunt me as you have. Good- evening, sirl" And with a slight inclination of the head, she left the room. OUT OF THE STREETS. 269 "D-n him!"Maberly muttered to himself, as he left the house; "what charm is there about the hound to bind this woman to him as he has? You will live to see him come back, will you, to repel the charge? You will never do for a prophetess, Miss Agnes, if you cannot do better than that. Come back, indeed! What a fool I should be if I had not provided against that." The excitement of the defalcation had given place to a wider spread excitement still. The excitement of a panic! The great commercial crash which had been so long imminent had come at last. Trade was paralyzed; its channels clogged by a dread distrust which took possession of every one. Old-established houses, whose credit had been maintained for years, whose names were the syn- onyms of all that was reliable and substantial in business, toppled over, one after another. Every hour chronicled some new failure, and in quarters where such disasters were least expected. Merchants, bankers, stock-brokers, speculators, all stood ap- palled before the general bankruptcy, which seemed to be sweep- ing over all like a great wave of ruin and destruction. "The Bank of Gotham," notwithstanding its boasted solvency, was among the first to close its doors, and its failure only spread the ruin wider. Sydney Heaton followed soon after for a large amount. Samuel Heaton managed to weather the storm individ- ually a short time longer, but was obliged to yield to the pressure at last, which he did as gracefully as he could, Amid the crash, Foulk Loxley & Co. stood firm and steadfast for a time, and would have continued to do so but for the failure of the great Life and Loan Company of Cincinnati, whose liabil- ities were enormous, and whose suspension carried universal dis- may, not only into the commercial world and financial circles, but into a thousand homes, where the news of its failure brought woe and desolation; and the cry of thousands of widows and orphans, whose very life depended on the stability of that gigantic institu- tion, ascended to heaven in a loud and fearful wail. The connection between the Life and Loan Company and the house of Foulk Loxley & Co. had been close. Their interests were largely identical anld the failure of the former was a blow too heavy to be withstood. The great banker struggled manfully against the fate ho saw impending over him, but the struggle page: 270-271[View Page 270-271] 270 OUT OF THE STREETS. was a vain one, and within a few days it was well-known that Foulk Loxley & Co. had been engulfed in the general maelestrom. When the proud banker entered his princely mansion at the close of that fatal day, the servant who admitted him started back in fright at beholding his pale face and his changed and woe-begone expression. He went immediately to the library, where, throwing himself into his chair, he buried his face in his hands, and while his whole frame shook with convulsive throes, he sobbed aloud in the bit- terness of his soul. Presently, rising from his chair, he paced the room rapidly to and fro, beating his breast, and giving way to the most fearful manifestations of grief. All he had prized so much-his wealth, his, position, his credit -had passed from him. He was a beggar! He, but yesterday so rich, so powerful, whose word was law on 'Change, and in the great world of business, was a poor bankrupt, without influence, without resource, How deep the thought cut into his proud soul, and how he writhed beneath the torture! : Hours passed on, and yet he grew no calmer. His wife sent a messenger to him requesting to see him. He dismissed the mres- senger with an angry refusal, desiring to be left alone, and once more threw himself into his chair, and gave himself up to his bitter reflections. His head is buried in his hands, and he sits, leaning forward, rocking himself to and fro. The door opens softly-he does not hear it-and Agnes enters the room, her own beautiful face heavily sorrow-laden. She stops a moment and looks about her. Presently, by the dim light above, she spies her father's form upon the chair. She gazes at him with a frightened look for a moment, and then bursting into tears, she bounds toward hilm, and lifting up his head, presses her lips to his, and cries: "Oh, papa! papa! what does this mean? What has happened? Dear papa! speak! speak!" The banker staggers to his feet, reaches out his hands as if to clasp her face, gives a loud groan, staggers, reels, and falls, face for ward, on the floor. With a shriek that rang through the house, sending a thrill of OUT OF THE STREETS. 271 fear through all who heard it, Agnes threw herself on her knees beside her father's senseless form, and tried to raise his head and place it on her heart. The servants came pouring in, and then Mrs. Loxley, pale with frighKlt. They raised the banker from the spot where he had fallen, and tried to place him in the chair. As they did so, Agnes and her mother started back with horror. The blood was pouring from his mouth in a large, dark stream, his eyes were half closed, the jaw had dropped, a ghastly pallor overspread that once proud and handsome face, and but for the hands that held the body in its position on the chair, it would haive fallen again. Ho had ruptured a bloocd-vessel Mr. Foulk Loxlcy was dead I l * page: 272-273[View Page 272-273] ,272 OUT OF THE STREETS. CHAPTER XXXIV. MABERLY HEATON RECKONS WITHOUT HS HOST. "What! stab in the dark 2 "--OTIIELLO. THE sudden death of M[r. Loxley caused a great excitement, not only in-the city, but all over the country. His commercial position, and -the large influence he had wielded in the world of finance, had made his name familiar as a household wordc every- where, and the news of his death following so close upon the surprise which the failure of the firm of Loxley & Co. had cre- ated, caused the wildest rumors to gain currency. Among these, the report that he had committed suicide gained many believers, and then followed other reports of even a more scandalous. character, setting forth that he had been guilty of various frauds, defalcations, and breaches of trust and honor. The real cause of his death, however, was duly announced, and so thoroughly authenticated that Gossip, with her thousand tongues, was silenced in this regard, while the close investigation, which, the creditors of the firm caused to be made immediately, failed to show the slightest grounds for the slanders which had assailed his financial fame, and his personal integrity, while it established the fact that the whole of his immense fortune, even to his personal effects, the family mansion, and everything which he possessed, had been sacrificed in the vain endeavor to save the house from the crash which had overwhelmed it. He had only succumbed after a desperate and brave resistance to the causes which had proved too powerful to render the strug- gle effective. The blow fell with crushing weight upon Mrs. Loxley. She was proud of her husband; proud of the esteem and respect in which he was held; proud of the influence he enjoyed; and, though his death caused her a severe pang-it was not sogreat as OUT OF THE STREETS. 273 that inflicted by her knowledge of the loss of all that had been her boast, and to which, irrespective of her own personal influence, she was indebted for her exalted social position. She saw herself fallen from her high estate. She, so lately the Queen of Society, whose smile was the highest endorsement that a candidate for social honors could receive, and whose frown was the passport to oblivion-she saw herself bereft of her power, stripped of her regal robes, and obliged to abdicate the throne, and resign the sceptre which she had wielded so long and so proudly. As for Agnes, she loved her father for his own sake. He had never been to her other than a dear companion, tender, kind, considerate, yielding to and thoughtful of even her lightest whim or wish, and the terrible catastrophe overwhelmed her with the most poignant and heart-seated grief. Haughty and proud to all the world beside, he had never been so with her. While she was a child, he could forget his dignity and bend himself to her childish level, could play at romps with her, and be her great, good-natured, loving 'Bear." His love for her had made him warm toward the poor friendless boy who had protected her; and when she had grown to woman- hood and taken her place in Society, his love proved to have kept pace with her growth, and he lavished upon her every care that, the most tender solicitude and deepest affection could dictate. Agnes returned his affection with all the warmth of her ardent nature, and her pure and loving heart. Her merriest laugh was for him; for him her gayest smiles, her favorite songs, her pret- tiest looks. tHer triumphs were all laid at his feet. He alone had seen the tears which overflowed her eyes when she first heard of the terrible reports concerning Harry's supposed betrayal of his trust. Into his ear had she poured her doubts of the truth of the charge, and .of her indignation at the rumors with which the town was filled concerning him, and he had, out of love for her, repressed the disappointment and mortification he could not help feeling at the supposed dishonorable and ungrateful con- duct of his protege. During the terrible days which preceded the funeral she re- fused to leave the side of her dead father, but sat gazing into his lifeless face, rejecting all consolation or comfort, and completely absorbed by her overwhelming grief. page: 274-275[View Page 274-275] 274 OUT OF THE STREETS. After the funeral, which was conducted under the supervision of Peter Pivot, and was of the grandest character, and largely attended by the magnates- of the World of Finance, and the Dons of Society, ]MYrs. Loxley and Agnes retired to Lindenwilde, where they remained for a month, and then returned to the city. But not to their old home; that had been seized, and so, shortly after, was the place in the country, by the creditors of Loxley & Co., and Mrs. Loxley and her daughter were obliged to seek a less pretentious home, where they lived almost in solitude, for, with the exception of a very few of her most intimate acquaint- ances, all the subjects of the proud Queen of Society, who, dur- ing her prosperous days, had so fawned and cringed about her, had thrown off their allegiance, and she was forgotten, or re- membered only to be pitied, and the pity of Society is a fearful thing to endure by such as Mrs. Loxley. As we -have before stated, among the first to succumb to the pressure of the crisis was Sydney Heaton. His failure was sud- den, though -not altogether unexpected by those with whom he had business relations, for his early success had not marked his later operations, and, as a consequence, his natural recklessness had led him into speculations of a doubtful, and, in some in- stances, of a decidedly desperate character. Old Peter Maberly, though he had at first participated in some of his ventures, had declined any further connection with the business operations of his son-in-law when he found that the prestige of success had left him; and, notwithstanding Sydney's earnest entreaties that he would step in betwixt him and ruin when the emergency came, the wily old man had at first " thought over it," then demurred, and, satisfied that there would be noth- ing made by the operation, at last flatly declined to advance a dollar, and advised Blanche to follow his example, which she did, so that, thus left to his own resources, Sydney glided surely to his fate. Spite of all his efforts-and they had been earnest and persist- ent-he had failed utterly in arousing in the heart of his wife one spark of affection or feeling for him, beyond the mere exter- nal manifestations of respect which Society demanded as the price of refraining from the scandal which would have been sure to OUT OF THE STREETS. 275 follow the discovery that Sydney Heaton and his wife were not thoroughly en rapport. He had, therefore, at last given up in despair the task he had set for himself of winning her love, and though he had lost but little, if any, of the sentiment with which he had been inspired at the time when the exposure of the secret which he held ap- peared so imminent, he had ceased to make any manifestations of it to her, but treated her with the same distant politeness which she exhibited toward himself. He no longer dreaded that Dick Watkins should betray him. He had heard nothing of him, and his sudden disappearance, with that of his sister, had remained as much of a mystery .as at first; so that his dread had, in a great measure, grown to be but a remembrance of the past. He had caused diligent inquiry to be made concerning the boy, but had never succeeded in obtaining even the slightest clue to his whereabouts, and had come to the conclusion that he had ac- companied Dick and his sister wherever they had gone, and that he should probably never hear of him again. When his failure happened, Sydney Heaton lost all heart. His former courage seemed to leave him. He made no effort to re- establish himself, or rebuild his fortunes upon the ruin which had come upon him. He became morose and gloomy, and spent nearly all his time either in the solitude of his own apartment or at his club, where he was looked upon as a soured and disappointed man. He was without a friend, without love, hope, or sympathy in all the world. "The relations which existed between him and his son Maberly were nearly of the same character as those betwixt himself and Blanche. He seldom saw him, and when they met, there was none of that cordiality, affection, or confidence, which is looked for between father and son. Sydney exppstulated with Maberly occasionally on his wild and dissipated course, but though his remarks were listened to re- spectfully: they were without effect. Maberly Heaton, after the death of Mr. Loxley, sought every opportunity for throwing himself in Agnes's way, She avoided him as much as she could ; but, on her mother's account, between whom and Mrs. Heaton the old intimacy and friendship still con- page: 276-277[View Page 276-277] 276 OUT OF THE STREETS. tinued, notwithstanding the misfortune which had overtaken Mrs. Loxley, she could not exclude herself from his society alto- gether, and on several occasions had been compelled to submit to a renewal of his importunities, and listen to the avowals of his hateful love, which he now made with more boldness and effront- ery than ever, presuming upon her altered position and his own prospects,'it being generally conceded that he would, in the course of events, inherit the great bulk of Peter Maberly's fortune. Shortly after their return from the country, Maberly called on them in their modest home; ac d Mrs. Loxley being confined to her room by indisposition, Agnes was compelled to receive him, which she did with her usual coldness. Maberly glanced round the small but neat apartment, to which he had been shown by a female servant, and, turning to Agnes, after a few commonplace inquiries and observations, remarked, in the blunt and offensive manner which was so characteristic of him: "You must feel horribly cramped here in these cribby holes of rooms, Miss Agnes." "-They answer our purpose very well," Agnes replied, calmly, but with a slight quiver of the lip, as she felt the taunt the words implied. We see little or no company, and they are quite large enough to suit our altered circumstances." You will grow tired of them soon, though," Maberly added, regardless of the pain his words inflicted; " and when you do, you know, you can live in the old style again." ' We are not likely to tire of them, Mr. Heaton," Agnes an- swered; "nor have I any desire to change our present style of living. We are calm and quiet here; all our surroundings are fitting to our altered circumstances, and the privacy, which our grief should make sacred!" "Yes, but you know your grief can't last forever. You will get over that," Maberly continued, while Agnes sat, with averted looks, trying to hide the tears, which, spite of herself, forced themselves into her eyes. "You can't shut yourself up like a hermit, you know! You'll have to go out, and received at home. You'll have to do it. Now, Agnes, come, don't get angry with me, as you always do; but you can change this place for one more like that you've been used to, and better fitted for you than OUT OF THE STREETS. 2" this, whenever you choose. I know I've had some bad luck lately -failed in business. There's no use in being mealy-mouthed about it, for everybody knows it on the Street and in the Board; but Grandfather Maberly can't last much longer, though he does hold out well, and I'ln down in his will for all he's got, so I shall be snug enough. My mother don't make any objection, notwith- standing all that's happened. She's a good sort, likes you, and has set her heart on the match; and I am sure Mrs. Loxley knows too well what is for her interest and yours-" Agnes had listened to these hateful words with as much calm- ness as it was possible for her to assume, but her patience could hold out no longer, and turning her face toward Maberly, all flushed with shame and indignation, she interrupted him quickly, saying: "If you utter another word upon a subject which I have for- bidden you to touch upon, I shall leave the room, and give orders that you be never admitted to my presence again. I have listened to you as calmly as it was possible, because I have no desire to make a scene; but I tell you now, once for all, that, were I a pauper and you a millionaire, were I starving, I would rather beg in the streets than accept a crust at your hand. As for being your wife, my answer is, as it ever has been, and as it ever will be-No, no, a thousand times no! No power, no suffering, can ever alter my determination." Maberly listened to her without moving from his seat or tak- ing his eyes from her face; and when she had finished, he said, without any excitement: "You are very firm and positive- in your rejection of me now, but perhaps you will change you mind some day. We are both young yet, and I can afford to wait till you can better appreciate the value of the advantages I offer you.' "Never! '" she replied. "My decision is final. If it were ever possible that I might look with favor upon your proposition, that time is passed. I have received this day a letter from California." "Indeed! exclaimed Maberly, in surprise. Then, checking himself, he asked coolly: "In what way does the letter concern me? "Perhaps you can judge of that when I tell you it was written by Mr. Wright.", page: 278-279[View Page 278-279] 278 OUT OF THE STREETS. Maberly started, an expression of anxiety visible on his face, as he said: . "Then he did go to California. I expected as much. It is the grand depot of thieves and desperadoes." "Mr. Wright is neither, Maberly Heaton, and you know it," she answered, indignantly. "He has heard of the terrible charges which have been brought against him, and has written a letter to papa-not having heard of his sudden death-to assure him of their utter falsity. He asserts his innocence in the most em- phatic manner, and declares that he has been the victim of a con- spiracy, by which he has been made the scapegoat to cover the villainy of other parties." "Of course he does," Maberly replied. "He would be a fool to confess. Does he name these conspirators who have plotted against his peace and his honor?" "He does," Agnes answered. "He relates all the circumstan- ces of his being sent away, gives the full details of the treachery which was used to induce him to go, and declares that you and Mr. Samuel Heaton contrived the scheme." "The impudent scoundrel!"Maberly exclaimed, trying to as- sume a tone of indigation, in order to disguise the annoyance and fear he felt. "What object could either I or my grandfather have had in sending him away? Ridiculous!" "Your object, he says," Agnes answered, "was to make him the scapegoat of your own delinquincies, to disguise your own- crimes, and he declares that the defalcations are your own!" "Better and better," Maberly exclaimed, with a forced laugh. "I should like to hear him tell me that.' "Your desire is likely to be gratified sooner than you have im- agined," Agnes said, looking Maberly full in the face, "for he will return in the next steamer, to prove his innocence and face his cowardly accusers." "He will not dare!"Maberly said, in a husky voice, for he was a coward at heart, and quailed even at the thought of meet- ing one whom he had so grievously wronged. "We shall see," Agnes said, taking a letter from her bosom. 4* Listen to what he says, and judge for yourself whether he will dare ;' and opening a letter, she read as follows: "Do not, I beg of you, my kind friend and benefactor, decide OUT OF THE STREETS. 279 against me until I shall stand face to face with my accusers and fail to prove my innocence. Do not think that I could be such an ingrate as to repay all your kindness and generosity by such a dreadful crime. I owe everything to you, who took me out of the streets and redeemed me from the fate which must otherwise have been mine, and could I betray the trust which you had re- posed in me? Could I bring grief to a heart which had ever man- ifested so much generosity toward me? Could I so give tho lie to every promise I had made, to every previous act of my life? You cannot believe it. I shall return immediately-by the next steamer-and shall, I am sure, not only be able to prove my inno- cence, but expose the guilty plot which has been contrived against me." -"Very pretty, and very convincing, I have no doubt, to one who, like yourself, believes him to be the type of all that is good, honest, and heroic. But a court of justice will require some- thing more than mere words. He knows that, and instead of returning, you will find that, immediately after writing that let- ter, he cut away to Australia, the Sandwich Islands, or some other out of the way place, from where you will never hear of him again. I know he will never come back." "'Tis false!"Agnes answered, indignantly. "Io will come back; and, try to disguise it as you may, the thought of his re- - turn fills you with fear." "Then you believe this silly story of a conspiracy, I suppose, and that I am one of the conspirators?" "I will answer the question plainly," she answered, fixing her gaze on him, and speaking slowly and firmly. "I believe that he is innocent. I have always thought so. Papa thought so too. I also believe that you and Mr. Samuel Heaton are guilty of the crime which you have caused to be laid at his door, and that you contrived his absence for the purpose of divert- ing suspicion toward him, and because," she continued, "you hate him, and would stop at- nothing to gratify the hate you feel." "I am sorry, Miss Agnes," Maberly began, in a hesitating manner-"- I am sorry that you should entertain so hard an opin- ion of me, but, I assure you, you are wrong. He will not keep his word. He will not come back. He has written this letter to page: 280-281[View Page 280-281] 280 OUT OF THE STREETS, deceive you, and to influence you against mc. It is all a loi. Ho is a thief, a defaulter, a forger, a-" "No mor!"Agnes exclaimed, interrupting him. "I will not listen to you. TCoward that you are, to defame in hia absence one from whose presence you would flee, the thought of whose return blanches your cheek, and makes you tremble, because you know how deeply you have wronged him, and how terrible your retribution will be when he shall come back to prove his inno- cence and your guilt." "But-- "Maberly began. "Good-evening, Mr. Heaton," Agnes replied, and left the room. Mtaberly stood for a moment, as if uncertain what to do. Then he moved toward the stairs by which Agnes had disappeared, as if he would have followed her, but, changing his mind, he seized his hat and rushed from the house. "She believes he will come back," he muttered to himself as he pursued his way toward the Rapid Club, of which he was a member, and where he was engaged to meet some roystering companions. "Come back, indeed! No! no! Master Harry, that would never do. He has found out by this time that com- ing back is not such an easy matter, or else our scheme was a miserable failure. When she finds he don't come, the Lady Agnes will perhaps look at matters in a different light. I'll bring her to terms yet." If he could have seen the true-hearted woman, whose faith in his rival-for such he felt convinced he was-he thought to make falter, as she sat that night alone with Harry's letter held close against her heart, or pressed ever and again convulsively to her lips, and heard the words of love and faith and tenderness in which she invoked the absent one to return to her, he would have felt how hopeless was the boast he made. But the next steamer arrived, and Harry did not come. I - , * OUT 01F T IE SITREETS. 281 CHAPTER. XXXV. AGOES'S CONFESSION. "Thon know'st the mask of night is on my face, Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek, For what thou'st heard me speak to-tighlt." RoMEO AND JULIET. WEEES roled round, and no further tidings were heard of Harry, and Agnes began to feel anxious and alarmed-not that she had ever doubted him, or for one moment wavered in her faith. Her fears were for his safety; her anxiety was, lest some Dnew misfortune had happened to him which prevented the fulfill. ment of his promise. The smile, sad as it had been since her father's death, now left her lips, the color fled from her cheeks, her step lost its lightness, and an anxious, careworn expression was ever visible upon her face. Mrs. Loxley noticed the change, which, day by day, grew more remarkable, and tried to dispel her gloom by being herself more cheerful. She knew of the interest she took in Harry, and how anxious she was that he should return, according to his promise, to prove the truth of his assertion of his innocence; but she knew nothing of the deep love for him which Agnes hid in her breast, nor how her life-hopes hung upon the absent one. :Mrs. Loxley had noticed the evident attentions of Maberly Heaton, and having no very strong liking for the son of her most intimate friend, had in no way encouraged his attentions; but in the altered circumstances in which the banker's death had placed them, she could not shut her eyes to the advantages which such a union offered, and so far compelled herself to forget her preiu- dices against Maberly, as to treat him with consideration and a certain show of preference. She had noticed also the evident aversion which Agnes felt toward him, and on one or two occa- page: 282-283[View Page 282-283] 282 OUT OF THE STREETS. sions had mildly remonstrated with her upon the marked coldness writh which she received his attentions. One evening, during Which Maberly had called upon them in their new home, and Agnes had refused to see him, she had sought her daughter in her room after Maberly's departure, and had found her in great grief and distress. Agnes, in answer to the questions which she put to her concernilig her emotion, had informed her of all that had taken place on the occasion of her previous interview with Maberly, and of her positive and irrevocable refusal of his hand. Mrs. Loxley listened to Agnes's relation with much anxiety, and gently reproved her for the manner in which she had driven her suitor away, representing to her the folly of quarreling with one whose prospects were so brilliant, on the question of the guilt or innocence of one in whom her interest could never have been more than slight, and who, by his eonduct, had forfeited what little consideration he might have once been entitled to. "Oh, mamma, mamma, do not say that "Agnes exclaimed, bursting into tears, and burying her face in her mother's bosom -"' do not say that I Think more kindly of him; think how he must suffer, knowing the dreadful things he has been accused of -his character destroyed, and he far away, without friends, with no one to sustain, to cheer him, to say a kind word to him, or for him. Oh! it is dreadful, and he innocent-all the while the vic- til of a vile plot to shame, dishonor and destroy him! "Bat why does he not return'?" ]Mrs. Loxley asked, surprised and anxious at this outhurst of feeling. "I am sure I cannot tell. Something dreadful has happened, I am sure. lie may be dead. If he were alive, I know he would come, if only for my sake!" iand Agnes threw her arms closer round her mother's neck, and sobbed as though her heart would break. W"Ihy, Agnes, what does this mean?"Mrs. Loxley asked, gently disengaging her daughter's embrace, and, placing her upon a chair, seated herself before her. "You display a great deal of unnecessary feeling on this subject. It is natural that we should. both experience much annoyance and mortification at the course affairs have taken; but, after all, he is, as it were, a rere stranger; and. having disappointed us as he has, though we 1 I or, s OUT OF THE STREETS. 283 may regret it for his own sake, I see no reason why it should be made such a serious matter of; unless," she added, with much seriousness, "you have- permitted yourself to feel an interest in him, which no circumstances whatever could possibly warrant. You surely can have no feeling for him beyond that it would be proper for you to acknowledge for one in his position?" Agnes sat with her face buried in her hands, and made no reply, save by a convulsive sob. "Blt this is folly," Mrs. Loxley continued. "Come, dry your eyes, i-nd forget him. If he is guilty, he is not worth one tear or regret. If he is innocent, he will come back and assert it. I must see Maberly Heaton myself, and heal this silly quarrel. He has been a little wild, I know; but most young men are. He is no worse than the rest, and he has better prospects than any man I know. We must think of your future now, Agnes dear, and be as worldly and politic as befits those who have a future to make. I am sure he loves you, and you will come to like him in time." Agnes shuddered as she replied: "Never, mamma I I dislike him too much! I hate him! I cannot bear the sight of his presence; his voice is hateful to me, and I shrink from his touch with a feeling of disgust. Please do not speak of him. Harry declares that it is he who has made all this cruel scandal, and brought such shame and disgrace upon him." "It is not possible' "Mrs. Loxley answered. "The idea is absurd. What object could he have in doing such a thing? I can see no motive which could prompt such improbable con- duct." "Jealousy may have urged him!"Agnes answered. "Jealousy!"Mrs. Loxley exclaimed. "Jealousy of what? of whom? Surely Maberly Heaton never supposed that you had or could have the slightest feeling for a person like Harry Wright, beyond the most commonplace friendship? You do not speak?" -she continued, after a short pause, during which Agnes sat in silence. "Have you ever given Maberly cause for the jealousy you suspect? Answer me! Have you ever encouraged this per- son in any manner, or by word or act shown your preference for him over others?" page: 284-285[View Page 284-285] 284 OUT OF THE STREETS. "I have defended him when others have spoken ill of him," Agnes answered. Has he ever presumed to address you except in a proper or respectful manner?" "Oh, never! We have met but seldom since we were children, and he has never said or done anything which you would not approve." ' Have you ever given him cause to believe you felt a preference for him? I Oh, mamma! how could I?"Agnes answered. ' Then you have no preference for him-?"Mrs. Loxley asked. Agnes remained silent. "You do not answer me," her mother urged. "Speak! Tell me that you have no feeling for him beyond the sympathy you feel for him; that you have no warmer feeling for him; that you do not love him! Will you tell me this?" Agnes did not reply for a moment, but sat in silence, with her face bent down and her bosom heaving convulsively with the conflicting- emotions which agitated her. She felt that she had never loved Harry more than she did at that moment, and that to deny her affection for him-if her innate love of truth would have permitted her to have done so-would 'be unjust, cowardly, and like deserting him at a time when she should most suppLort and defend him. ," I await your answer, Agnes," Mrs. Loxley said calmly. Agnes looked up, and, fixing her beautiful soft eyes, now dimmed with tears, upon her mother's anxious face, replied. "Do not be angry with me, dear mamma! I cannot utter an S untruth! I would not, if I could. I do love Harry!' Mrs. Loxley started and looked at her daughter with intense surprise, as if she doubted the evidence of her senses. "You love him?" she at last exclaimed. ( Love this man, without family, without name, and who may be to-morrow a convicted felon? It is not possible!:' : " "Oh, mamma, he is so good, so noble! I loved him when I was a little child; he saved my life; and I loved him when we were both grown up, a long time before I knew it. I do not know -I when I have not loved him! Forgive me, mamma! forgive me!" OUT OF THE STREETS. 285 And Agnes threw herself, overcome, into her mother's arms. "Have you confessed your feeling to hint?"Mrs. Loxley asked. "Oh, no, no!"Agnes answered, nestling still closer to her mother. "It has been a secret I would have hidden from myself. No one in the world knows it but us two." Mrs. Loxley recovered in a few moments from the shock which this unexpected revelation had caused, and, before speaking, con- sidered what was best to be done. If she upbraided Agnes dur- ing the present excited state of her feelings, she would only suc- ceed in making her more unhappy than she seemed, and she loved her too well to inflict any pain upon her that could be avoided. This sentiment, which was, after all, but a mere girlish fancy, would, perhaps, soon pass away, if uncombatted, and opposition might fan it to a more ardent flame. She had but little faith in EHarry's asseverations of his innocence, and she naturally judged that if he did not return, as she felt sure he would not, Agnes would soon grow to share her doubts, and with them would do- part all her love for him. Time and circumstances would bring about the change which opposition would not effect; and, arriv- ing at these conclusions, she patted her daughter's pretty head with her small white hand, and said, softly, to her: "My poor, frightened, silly child, do not weep so. I am not angry with you. We cannot always control our feelings. There! there! Look up! Kiss me! We will talk more of this some other time, when you are calmer. I only desire to see you happy." And, gently raising her head from her bosom, where it was nestled, she pressed her lips to Agnes's forehead, and soothed her with kind and loving words. "Bless you, mamma I bless you! You were ever gentle and forbearing with me!"Agnes murmured, as she returned her mo- ther's kiss, and threw her loving arms once more about her neck. "I will leave you now, dear, to the quiet and rest you so much need. We will speak of this matter some other time. Do not cry any more. Kiss me good-night!" and pressing her lips to her blushing cheek, Mrs. Loxley went from the room, leaving Agnes more calm and happy than she had been before since Har- ry's absence. page: 286-287[View Page 286-287] 286 OUT OF THE STREETS. CHAPTER XXXVI, PETER PIVOT MAKES A DISCOVERY, AND AGNES FINDS COMFORtT. "I'm lord of the fowl and the brute." "The riches .of the ship have come on shore." SHAKESPEARE PETER PIVOT sat taking his ease in his inn, as became a pros- perous man and a bolt viveur. It was not the same snug hostelrie, the "Woodcock," in which he was wont to take his pot of " 'alf-and-'alf," and his "gin and water 'ot," years ago, when we first made his acquaintance. The glories of the "Woodcock " have departed, its genial host has been gathered to his fathers, and its old-time habitues have been scattered. Peter's present house of call is of a more pretentious character, known as the "Ponce de Leon," and though situated in the same neighborhood, though not in the same street, would, in the ele- gance and elaborateness of its fittings-up, have put. its more hum- ble predecessor to the blush. Peter sat at the table in the midst of a goodly company, com- posed of a few regular frequenters of the place, and the landlord, a hearty, kindly, yet irascible Englishman, with a genial face and a stout figure, a round head, partly bald, and with a self-satisfied and confident manner, which a stranger might have pronounced swaggering, if not blustering, but which those who knew him understood to be nothing of the kind, but simply the manifesta- tions of a good fellow, on good terms with himself and all the world, when he was not crossed, nor the excellence of his edibles or his potables called in question. He ha;d faith in himself, in his house, and all that it contained, and to find fault with either was to bring down upon the taring OUT OF THE STREETS, 287 individual who did so, the severest reprimand which Mr. William' Gabhard was capable of inflicting upon the rash offender. The party were all very jolly, and Peter, having done a good stroke of business that day, and having just finished a plate -of boiled mutton and turnips which would have delighted the heart and gladdened the stomach of even that gobbling old imbicile, George III.-Raex, Dei gratia-and the line of succession-was in more than usually good spirits, and talked accordingly, knocking the Queen's English about in a manner which would have set Lindley Murray crazy, and driven Noah Webster to the verge of desperation. "Capital h'ale that, Gabhard," he ejaculated, as he set down the empty mug, which he had completely bereft at a single draught of the foaming nut-brown beverage it had lately con- tained. "Capital h'ale, h'on my h'onor!" " his is the ' Ponce de Leon!" was the landlord's short reply to t&) compliment paid to his brewer. "Ah, yes, so it is," Peter replied. "There's no danger of h'any- body's forgetting that, h'is there, Bill? But I say, you don't seem to feel the pressure much, eh? No danger of your suspend- ing payment and going to protest. The ( Ponce de Leon ' is all right. They're smashing h'up all about us though. A dozen 'ouses went to-day. I never saw such a panacea." "Panic, you mean," one of his listeners, a stout man, with a tremendous head of hair and a fruity face, suggested. "Panic! Not panacea. Peter, you are the worst slaughterer of language I ever heard!" "I deny the allegation," Peter answered, with a laugh. "I deny the allegation, and despise the alligator!" This sally set the table in a roar, Peter laughing as heartily as anybody else. W "What, 'ave I been h'at h'it h'again?" he asked, good-natur- edly. "What's wrong now? I'm always putting myfoot in it! Never mind, you know what I mean. I s'pose I always shall make mistakes, if I live to be a centurion." "What's that?" asked the fruity-faced customer. "What do you mean by a centurion?" "What do I mean by a centurion? ' Peter replied, confidently. "Come now, that shows your h'ignorance, you know! I'm right page: 288-289[View Page 288-289] 288 OUT OF THE STREETS. this time, anyway. A chap an 'undred years h'old to be sure. That's a centurion, he is I There!' Another general laugh greeted this explanation, under which Peter winced a little, but he covered his discomfiture by inviting all to join him in " a glass h'all round,' and then laughed as heartily as the rest. When the glasses had been refilled, and Peter's health drunk by all save the landlord, who never drank with his customers ex- cept at his own expense, the fruity-faced gentleman, who seemed to take a particular delight in drawing Peter out, asked in a careless way: "Have you heard anything of your pet defaulter lately, Peter?" "No, I 'aven't," Peter answered, his face assuming a less pleased expression. "But I stick to it that the lad's h'innocent as a babby, and I'll never believe the contrary till he tells me of it with his h"own lips. It's a fragrant piece of business, and it will h'all come h'out some day, mark my words! I knew 'Arry, Wright from his cradle h'up, h'and h'a honester-'earted chap never lived. The very day before he went h'away he came to my place and bid me and Mrs. P. good-by, and told me hewas being sent h'away h'on business 0o the bank; and he wouldn't tell a lie; no, not if he was going to be burned at the stake!" "Here's the evening paper, Peter," the landlord said, interrupt- ing him, and thrusting the Express into his hand. "Ah," said Peter, opening the sheet. I'll just see 'ow h'Erie is!" and going to a side-table nearer the window, he was soon absorbed in noting the stock quotations for the day. "I HErie's h'up again!" he observed, half to himself. "The most h'unh'easy stock I ever knew. Never stays anywhere five minutes together!" Dismissing Erie from his mind, Peter indulged in a cursory glance at the other portions of the paper, without any display of interest; but suddenly he started with a look of astonishment, and muttered to himself: "Bless me! Is this a h'optical allusion? Holding the paper from him at arms' length, he read the par- agraph which had attracted his attention, all through. Then he OUT OF THE STREETS. 289 took off his spectacles, wiped them, rubbed the bald portion of his head nervously for a moment, and read it again. It was an advertisement in the following words: "NFORMATION WA,&NTED--Of Helen Fairly, who left tEngland. in the year 18--, and lived for some time in New York, United States of America.. Any information concernin her, whth she is living or dead, or of her husband, or her children, if she were married, will be thankfully received by "POUNE, VELLUM & CO., Solicitors, "G ray's Inn, London, England." Satisfied that his eyes did not deceive him, Peter put the paper down and seriously pondered over what he had read. "Helen Fairly," he muttered. "That is surely the name h'Abner Snaggs told me 'Arry's mother went by before she mar- ried Richard Norman. Well, this is a rum way for things to come about. Somebody or another has died, I s'pose, and left her a fortune. I'll write at once to Pounce & Vellum. Very respect- able firm, by-the-way; none but carriage people and the h'aris- tocracy for clients. I knew em well,in London by 'earsay. But what can I tell 'em about the boy?. Only that he is accused of a bank robbery, and has cut his lucky to parts unknown. No; that won't do. I must 'unt 'im h'up-'unt 'im h'up!" With this determination, Peter took a knife from his pocket, and cut the advertisement from the paper, which flagrant breach of rules did not escape the eyes of Mr. Gabhard, the landlord, who called out to him: "Hello! I say, Pivot, what the deuce are you about? What are you cutting up that paper for? Do you suppose nobody wants to read it but you?: This is the 'Ponce de Leon,' sir, and that paper is for all my customers!" "Buy another and charge it to me, along with h'all the rest. I 'aven't time to paliate about it now," Peter answered, rising and going to the door, from which he called out: "I'll liquify what I owe another time!" and rushed incontinently out; which high-handed proceeding so provoked Mr. Gabhard, that he ex- claimed, "Confound his infernal impudence! Don't he know that this is the 'Ponce de Leon?'"' and immediately invited everybody to take a drink at his expense. Having done this desperate deed, his rubicund -face resumed its placid expression, and he retired behind the bar and took an- r^^^t:o a page: 290-291[View Page 290-291] 290 OUT OF THE STREETS. other drink by himself, to the continued prosperity and success of the "Ponce de Leon ", and its landlord. Peter directed his steps in the direction of his own house, nor stopped until he found himself in the presence of Mrs. P., whom he nearly frightened into spasms, which might have resulted serious-that lady being in her usual delicate health-by blurt- ing out at once: "r 'Ere is the rummest go I ever 'eard ! A big ortune going a-begging, and no one living who can be indemnified as having the right to claim it!" having, however, succeeded in calming her, after a time, Peter related all the circumstances of the case, and took Mrs. P. into his confidence, on the subject of Harry's absence and his sup- posed crime, of which latter circumstance Peter had considerately kept the partner of his bosom in ignorance. After a long consultation as to the proper course to pursue, it was decided that Peter should call upon Mrs. Loxley, as the most likely person to ive him any information concerning the missing young man, and heir-expectant to what the worthy undertaker and his wife had already made up their minds was a fortune, the extent of which could only be computed by millions of pounds. This was no sooner agreed upon than Mr. Pivot made his way as fast as the omnibus, drawn by a pair of horses, whose speed was exactly proportioned to their condition, which was decidedly bad, could carry him, to the residence of Mrs. Loxley, where, with a shrewd guess that Agnes would probably be better able to give him the desired information than Mr s. Loxley herself, he inquired for Miss Loxley, and being informed that she was at home, he sent up his card. It was not long before Agnes made her appearance in the small parlor into which he had been shown, and which he could not refrain from contrasting with the elegant apartments in which he had last enjoyed the melancholy pleasure of doing a little professional business with the family, of whose patronage he had felt very proud. , I beg pardon, I'm sure," Peter commenced, as soon as Age entered the room, looking still pale and sad; "I 'ope I don' dis turb you; but my business concerns a party that I take a goo0 OUT OF THE STREETS. 291 deal of h'interest h'in, and who was once quite a favorite of your father's, and yours, too, miss. I mean young 'Arry. Don't start. I know all about it. He's h'under a cloud just now; but he'll come h'out brighter than h'ever!" "You refer to Mr. Wright. Oh! Mr. Pivot, do you know any- thing of him? Where is he? Why has he not returned?" Agnes exclaimed, her face beaming with the hope that Mr. Pivot's presence had conjured up. i"That's exactly what I came to find h'out from you," Peter answered, " and I see at once that I shall go away no wiser than I came." "We received a letter from him some time ago," Agnes said, ' and in that letter he promised to return by the next steamer." ( Where from?" asked Peter, interrupting her, in great excite- ment. "Where was he?" "In San Francisco." "That's something," Peter exclaimed; "and he promised to, come back?" "Yes," Agnes replied; "and we have been looking for him so anxiously.") "If he said he'd come, he'll come," Peter exclaimed, "if he's alive." "He had heard of the false accusations against him," Agnes continued, " and wrote to deny the truth of the slander. He says that he has been the victim of a conspiracy! "To be sure he 'as, bless his 'art "Peter exclaimed, excitedly --" to be sure he 'as. I said so h'all h'along. As h'innocent as a lamb, 'Arry h'is." "Oh, thank you, Mr. Pivot-thank you!"Agnes replied, with a look full of gratitude. "You who have known him so long could not believe him guilty." "Not a bit of it!"Peter answered seizing Agnes by both her hands, and shaking them cordially--" not a bit of it. I 'ope to 'ave good news to tell him when he returns. I don't mind tell- ing you, miss; I 'ave 'eard from his family!" "His family! Oh! Mr. Pivot, who are they?-where are they?" "Well, I don't exactly know as yet. That will give you all the h'intormation I 'ave on the subject. Please cast your beautiful page: 292-293[View Page 292-293] 292 OUT OF THE STREETS. h'eyes h'over this," and he gave her the advertisement he had cut from the paper, adding, "P'Praps that will conglomerate the mystery." Agnes read the advertisement, and turning to Peter, asked: "How does this concern him?" "Why, don't you see his mother's name was 'Elen Fairly, and she is a h'eiress, and 'e h'is 'er h'eir!" "Then, he will no longer be without family or name I Oh, how glad I am!" "Excuse me, ma'am," said a servant, who had suddenly entered the room; "but I was told to give you this directly;" and she handed a note to Agnes. "There is an answer waited for, if you please." Agnes glanced at the superscription, and giving a start. while she turned very pale, exclaimed: "Oh, Mr. Pivot!" and tore open the envelope. "What's the matter? I 'ope the note is, not a cognomen of h'ill," Peter said. But Agnes was devouring the contents of the note with hungry eyes, while her bosom heaved convulsively, and she trembled in every limb. At last she looked up, extending the note toward Peter, and, with a deep sigh, fell fainting upon the floor. The servant sprang to her assistance, and lifted her, with the aid of Peter, to the sofa. They chafed the hands and forehead of the insensible girl, until at last they had the satisfaction of hearing her sigh gently, and seeing her open her eyes once more. Then Peter read the note. It was signed by Harry Wright, and was as follows: "Mss LOXLEY-I arrived in the city this evening, from Cali- fornia, where 1 have been detained against my will, which will account for my silence and the delay of my promised speedy re- turn. Please inform the messenger when you will grant me an interview, at which I will explain all. ' Your grateful friend, "HARRY WRIGHT." "Hurray!"Peter exclaimect, fairly dancing with delight- "hurray! I'll go and fetch him 'ere at once. Prevarication is the thief of time! Dorint faint any more, miss; I'll 'ave 'im 'ere OUT OF THE STREETS. 293 in no time. Where's the man that brought the aote? In the 'all, of course. What a h'ass h'I h'am!" and, jerking his hat on to his head, he rushed into the hall, and seizing the messenger, a colored boy of diminutive proportions, by the arm, much to is consternation, dragged him out into the street, exliming "Come along! Take me to 'im--I'm the h'answer to the note!" "Mr. Wright is aboard the steamer," the boy said. "Take me to 'im, if he's at the d--l!"Peter exclaimed, as he arted pell-m el down the street, dragging the sable messenger after him. page: 294-295[View Page 294-295] 294 OUT OF THE STREETS. s . [ CHAPTER XXXVI. HARRY KEEPS HS PRaOMS "Oh, give me liberty! For were even paradise my prison, -Still should 1 long to leap its crystal walls. --DRYDEN. HARRY had resolved to remain until the next day on board the steamer, and had already dispatched a messenger to Peter to inform him of his arrival, and ask him to come to him at once, in L. -order that he might, after telling him his story, advise with him as to what were best to be done under the circumstances; so that, when Peter made his appearance, panting for breath, and in a state of great excitement seized him by both hands, and nearly shook his arms off, in his great joy at his return, he supposed that the worthy undertaker had come in answer to his request. "It was very kind of you," Harry said, as soon as Peter's rough reception gave him an opportunity of speaking-"very kind of yoou to come so soon after receiving my note. My messenger must have lost no time." "I received no note," Peter answered. "I 'ad gone to see Miss Loxley, to find out if she could tell me where a letter would reach you, and while I was talking to her, and telling her of the good news' I 'ad, a note comes for 'er, and-" Then she received my note?"Harry exclaimed, interrupting him. "She received it? She was not angry? She did not send my messenger away? She read it? Perhaps she has even an- swered it? What did she say? -What did she do? Tell me, Mr. Pivot. Does she believe all the terrible things she has heard against me?" "'Ow can I h'answer your questions if you don't give me a i; chance to get a word in h'edgeways?"Peter replied. "Now sit down, and make believe be quiet, and I'll tell you all about it." OUT OF THE STREETS. 295 TYou cannot even imagine, my dear friend," Harry said with an anxious expression, "how much I have suffered since I became aware of this most cruel and cowardly conspiracy against me; I was so proud of Mr. Loxeiy's confidence, of the esteem and friend- ship which Agnes had ever shown for me! The thought that they would hear of this base slander, and believe it, nearly drove me mad. All the world beside was as nothing. I could have borne the shame of knowing that every one else thought me guilty, so that I had known that they did not." "What Mr. Loxley thought, I don't know, and can't say. It makes but little difference now, at h'any rate," Peter replied; "but there are two persons who never 'ave believed it, and wouldn't 'ave believed it under any circumstances, except you 'ad taken your h'own viva voce of it. One of themnwas me, Peter Pivot, my boy, who knew when he shook your 'and, just nomv and when lie shakes it again, as he does, that it is the 'and of a 'onest man, who 'as been badly put upon; and the h'other is that h'angelic seraphine, Miss Loxley, whose faith in you has never been shook, and whose name is anonymous with all that is good and kind and true. There! If there's any consolation in that, make the most of it." "Bless you, Mr. Pivot-bless you!"Harry exclaimed, return- ing the Cockney's hearty grasp, with warmth. "Your words bring more comfort to my heart than it has known during all the long and weary time that I have been away! But tell me, what did she say-what did she do when she received the note announcing my return?" "Why, she did what every sensible and properly brought-h'up young lady would 'ave done h'under the circumstances," Peter answered. "She read your letter to the close, pressed it to her loving 'art, and then fainted away in the most graceful and natu- ral manner possible. I staid till she h'opened 'er h'orbs of h'eyes again, and then started h'off, at 'er request, to h'answer the note in person, and to tell you she would be glad to see you at the h'ear- liest possible h'opportunity." "I cannot see her," Harry replied, "until I have confronted those who have inflicted this cruel wrong upon me, and forced from them a confession of my innocence, which must be made clear to her, to you, and all the world. In doing this, I need ad- page: 296-297[View Page 296-297] vice, perhaps assistance. I shall rely on you for both, and in order that you. may be able to understand my situation, it will be necessary for me to relate all that has occurred." c"Before you begin," Peter suggested, "let me advise you, though I am willing and 'appy to do h'all in my power to 'elp you h'out of your predicarament, to 'ave the assistance of a wiser 'ead than mine. I know a man that is just the chap for a case like this. 'I: j He's as keen as a brier, and as sharp as a needle. He's got a h'eye like a 'awk, to see through the muddlest muddle that ever was, and if there's any h'ins and h'outs about it, he'll cut the gor- geous knot in no time." "Who is he?" asked Harry, "Why, Captain Leopard, the detective. He's the chap! It's not very late-scarcely ten o'clock. I know just where to find him; so if you've no objection to making a confidant of 'im, come ashore with me, and we'll settle the matter in a jiffy. Then, after we've settled that, and you've told your story, I've got one to tell which will make you h'open your h'eyes. But don't -ask me any questions now," Peter added, seeing that Harry's curiosity was excited, "for I am dumb h'as a h'oyster till this little business is over. Then, after you can look your h'enemies in the face with the h'air of a h'emperor, and meet your friends without a blush, "} i I've somethink to tell you-somethink as will make you bounce again. So, come along! Leopard's the boy to 'elp h'us h'out of this scrape." After a little reflection, Harry consented to do as Peter desired, and they accordingly left the ship and proceeded in a carriage which Peter had sent for by the sable Miercury who had piloted him from Mrs. Loxley's house, to the police headquarters, where, leaving Harry in the carriage, Peter found Captain Leopard in his room, fortunately disengaged. The shrewd officer, who knew Pivot well, readily granted the interview which Peter requested, and promised all the assistance he could render in the case, whatever it might be, Consistent with his duties. Thanking the officer for his hearty compliance, Peter immedi- ately summoned Harry into his presence, and when the doors were closed, and they were free from observation, Peter opened OUT OF THE STREETS. 297 "Captain Leopard, h'allow me to h'introduce my young friend, Mr. 'Arry Wright, just arrived from California." "Glad to see you, Mr. Wright," Leopard said, acknowledging the introduction with a slight bow, while he surveyed Harry from head to foot, with a curious look. "'I see the name is familiar to your h'ear, captain," Peter said. "I've heard it before, certainly," the captain answered; " but I cannot think that this gentleman and the person who--" "Who cut his lucky and cleared out from the Bank of Gotham with a good lot o' money!"Peter suggested. "Exactly!" answered the captain. "This gentleman is not the same person." "That's where you're h'out," Peter replied. "This is the same 'Arry Wright as vas accused of running away, a defaulter to the tune of nearly 'alf a million o' dollars from the Bank of Go- tham!" "Indeed!" exclaimed the captain. "Then he has returned, I suppose, to surrender himself, or to compromise the affair." "No, sir," Harry replied. "I am here for the purpose of de- claring my innocence, and seeking your assistance and advice in proving myself to be guiltless of this crime, and for the purpose of exposing the plot by which this stigma has been put upon me. It was deeply and cunningly laid, and but for the treachery of one of the parties who were implicated in it, would have been entirely successful. In that case I should never have returned, but have died, leaving behind me a record of disgrace and infamy. Mr. Pivot has expressed great confidence in your sagacity, and it is by his advice that I am here to make a full statement of all the circumstances of the affair." "I am ready to listen to any explanation you may desire to make, but you must remember that I am an officer. Any state- ments that you may make here, implicating yourself will be used against you." "When you have heard my story, you will be able to judge whether I should shrink from the closest scrutiny into my con- duct," Harry answered. Hie then recounted as much of his previous history as was ne- cessary to explain how his connection with the bank commenced, and, without going'into' the cause of the quarreL defind the page: 298-299[View Page 298-299] 298 OUT OF THE STREETS. relations which existed between him and Maberly Heaton. These preliminaries detailed, Harry proceeded to relate the con- versation which had taken place betwixt Samuel Heaton and himself, and all the particulars of his being sent to California. i*1 * tK OUT OF THE. STREETS. 299 CHAPTER XXXVIII. WHAT HAPPENED I1 CALIFORNIA. lie felt the chilling heaviness of heart * * * * * which attends The loss of love, the treachery of friends."--BYRoN. "I LEFT New York," Harry continued, "without any misgiv- ings. It had never entered into my wildest thoughts to suspect the trap which had been laid for me, and I went away proud of the position which had been assigned to me, and determined to make it the stepping-stone to future fortune. "( The letter of introduction, which was very brief, and which had been given to me by Samuel Heaton, simply recapitulated the verbal directions he had given me as to looking out a suitable location for the business, and completing its organization. En- closed there was a sealed letter to a person by the name of Stur- ges, of whom Mr. Heaton had not previously spoken." "Not Reuben Sturges?"Leopard asked. "Yes; that was his name," Harry replied. "Do you know him?" "I have heard of him," the officer answered, carelessly. "t But go on!" "On my arrival in California," Harry continued, "I sought out this man-this Reuben Sturges-after much difficulty, and found him to be the reverse of all I should have expected in the person whom Mr. Heaton would have selected to aid me either by advice or influence in carrying out the object of my mission. He was coarse in appearance, vulgar in speech, with a reckless and dess perate air about him, which struck me at first with surprise, but which afterward made him thoroughly repulsive to me. "The persons to whom he presented me were none of them such as I should have selected for companions, and proved to be, as I subsequently learned, mostly idle men about town-adven- page: 300-301[View Page 300-301] 300 - OUT OF THE STREETS. turers, gamblers, and men of more or less questionable character. By means of various excuses, and much persuasion, he prevented me, day after day, from taking the preliminary steps toward car- rying out the supposed object of my visit, advising me to wait for further instructions from Mr. Heaton. On more than one occasion he enticed me into gambling-houses and monte-banks, using all the arguments he was master of to persuade me to play, until, at last, findg me'proof against his seductions, he became sullen, ill-natured, and, finally, actually abusive, so that I resolved to relinquish his society altogether, and came to the conclusion to consult him no more, but to proceed at once to engage a count- ing-room and get all in readiness for business by the arrival of the steamer which was, as I supposed, to have brought me further instructions. Within a few days, however, and before I had commenced operations in earnest, the steamer arrived, bringing, instead of the letters I had expected, the news of the great defal- cation, fastening the crime upon me, together with all the terrible details which filled the New York papers. 9 "I first heard the report while waiting in the hotel, with all the patience I could command, for the distribution of the mails. I heard, the newsboys calling out the 'Extra Alta' in the streets, and, going to the office of the hotel, bought one. Judge of my horror and surprise at finding myself named, in great, staring capitals, as an absconding defaulter. I could at first scarce believe my eyes; but, forcing myself, by an effort of will which seems ] almost miraculous to me now, to read on, I saw that I was indeed the individual held up to such scorn, disgrace and shame! The letters danced like characters of blood-red flame before my eyes, and I staggered like a drunken man. A thousand maddening thoughts ran through my brain. I pictured the grief and disap- [ pointment which Mr. Loxley and his daughter would feel on hearing of the crime, of which they would, in all probability, believe me guilty. What an ingrate, what a hypocrite, what a thorough wretch, theywould think me I I fancied the scor they would feel for me, the curses that would be heaped upon me, who had betrayed the confidence which had been reposed in me, and brought shame upon them to whom I owed so much; 'afndrl rushing to myv room on the impulse of the moment, I wrote OUT OF THE STREETS. 301 and relating some of the circumstances I have already related to you, promising to return by the next steamer and prove the truth of my assertions. "A This accomplished, I posted the letter in the letter-box of the hotel, and crushing the paper in my hand in which I had read the terrible news, *I ran out of the hotel, with the determination, which came suddenly upon me, of finding Sturges and forcing him to vindicate me from this overwhelming charge. He knew of my mission to California.' He could deny the story of the de- falcation, and he should. I would wring a denial from him at all hazards, and I sped onward, rushing like a madman into every place of resort which he was in the habit of frequenting. At last I saw him; it was near the post-office; he was reading a letter, which, before I reached him, he folded up and placed in his pocket, while a grim smile overspread his features. As he turned to go away, I seized him by the arm and whirled him around, so that he faced me. The instant he recognized me, he exclaimed: ' Don't say a word here; I know all about it. Come with me!' "'But, I exclaimed, 'you know that this charge is false! -I brought a letter to you from the cashier of the Bank of Gotham, and have my letter of instructions in his own handwriting. Your word and this letter will set me right at once. Delay will killUme!' "'There will be no delay. I'll make it all right. Jump into this coach with me,' he answered, dragging me by the arm toward a carriage which stood near by, ' and we will go out to the Mis- sion. There we can talk the matter over quietly, and make up our minds what to do.' "I made little or no demur to this proposition, but allowed myself to be placed inside of the coach, which immediately started on the Missionward. On our arrival at the Mission, Sturges led the way into a public-house, and requested the use of a private room, to which we were immediately shown, and where he left me alone for a few moments, under the pretence of ordering some refreshments, but really to communicate with a fellow known as Jack Wilson, who had but recently served out a term of several years in the State Prison.5" "An old acquaintance of mine," Leopard observed. "I know tha rfaal -.Na I UAQ U TT A ^ %W% 11 f ^ e a wt 1 *1 ;I IiI lo ,h t:o page: 302-303[View Page 302-303] 302 OUT OF THE STREETS. time. I supposed he was hanged long ago. Proceed. Ydu are making quite an interesting story of it." "I'll wager my life it's h'all true!" exclaimed Peter, who had been listening with wrapt attention. "The story bears h'infernal h'evidence of truth upon the face of it!" "When Sturges returned," Harry continued, "he brought with him a bottle of native wine and a couple of glasses. He insisted upon my taking some of the wine immediately, which I did, and we then proceeded to discuss the affair in all its bearings. I had grown somewhat cooler, and was able to view the situation I was so unexpectedly placed in with less excitement, and as we talked over the matter and canvassed a variety of plans for proving my innocence, Sturges continued plying me with wine, but, as I afterwards remembered, drinking none himself. I had declared my intention of returning to New York on the steamer which left the following week, a course which Sturges earnestly encour- aged, declaring that in the meantime he would make my innocence apparent to the citizens of San Francisco, and endeavoring to reassure me by every means in his power. "The more I reflected upon the matter, the more conviction forced itself upon me that I had been sent away in order that I might be made the scapegoat to cover the crime of others, and I instinctively fixed the plot upon Maberly Heaton and his grand- father. Encouraged by the promises Sturges made, and, in the full knowledge of my entire innocence, becoming more and more hopeful, the terrible thoughts which had so oppressed me gradu- ally left me, and a feeling of pleasant languor pervaded me. This was almost immediately succeeded by a heavy drowsiness, which I could not resist, struggle as I would. I tried to speak, but my tongue refused to utter my thoughts. I saw Sturges sitting before me with folded arms, and, a devilish smile upon his face, watching me, and I struggled to rise. My limbs were like lead. I could not move them. My eyes gradually closed, and I became insensible." "I see," Pivot exclaimed, "I see 'ow it was; that fellow had drugged the wine. Put a h'iodine in it! A h'iodine!" "I suppose you mean an anodyne, Mr. Pivot'?" the captain suggested, with a smile. "Of course the wine was drugged." "Well, I s'pose I do. One of my mistakes, eh? At it again. OUT OF THE STREETS. 303 Never mind; go on, please," Peter replied, good-naturedly. "But you know what I mean." t"When I recovered my senses," Harry continued, "I found myself in a small room, the walls of which were of solid stone- masonry. Opposite to me was a small crevice, which served as a window, and which was grated by strong iron bars. To my right was a door, thickly studded with large-headed nails, form- ing a fantastic pattern of scroll-work, while on the left of me, seated on a low stool, I discovered a man with his face resting upon his hands, and watching me intently, as I slowly struggled into thorough wakefulness. "I was lying upon a rude pallet, placed upon a sort of bunk in the centre of the apartment, and on trying to raise myself into a sitting position, discovered that my wrists were firmly bound by a pair of heavy handcuffs. "I was very weak, and the exertion of trying to rise caused a feeling of faintness, under which I again sunk back, partly un- conscious. "I lay in this dreamy condition for some time, without the power of realizing my situation, until I found myself raised into a sitting position by the strong arms of the man, who poured some brandy into my mouth, which had the effect of partially re- storing my strength and consciousness. "'Where am I?' I asked, ' and why am I handcuffed? How came I here? ' "' You're in a good place,' the man answered, 'and that's all I know about it. Rube Sturges can answer your other questions better than I kin. He put the handcuffs on and brought you here, and told me to stay with you, so you wouldn't be lonesome.' "' How long have I been here?' I asked. "'Ever since last night,' he replied. 'I re ckon you've had your nap out, ain't you?' "I made him no answer, but looking down at my chained wrists, gave way to the bitterest feelings of despair. Why had I been brought to such a place? Could it be possible that I had been arrested for the supposed defalcation, and that I was now a prisoner in a felon's cell, through the treachery of Sturges? There seemed to be no other way of accounting for my presence in such a place. But, then, Sturges knew of my innocence, and page: 304-305[View Page 304-305] 304 OUT OF THE STREETS. what could be his object in keeping me a prisoner? He had un- doubtedly drugged the wine which I had taken the day before, and if so, he had had my detention in view from the time I had first encountered him at the post-office. And the letter he was reading? "A light suddenly broke in upon me. , Had he not been, from the first, an instrument in the hands of my persecutors? It must have been so, and this accounted for the persistent manner in which he had managed to throw ob- stacles in the way of my carrying out the object of my mission; and fearing that I should return to New York, and thus expose the fraud and treachery of those whose guilt I was made to bear, he had procured my arrest in order to frustrate my plan. "This conviction forced itself upon me irresistibly, and filled me with horror. A terrible desperation then took possession of me. I struggled with my fetters like a maniac. I rose from the pallet where I had lain, and, iushing upon my jailer with raised hands, demanded my release, threatening to brain him with my fetters unless he set me free. The wretch laughed at me, and, seizing me. roughly, forced me back upon the bunk. I wept, I plead, I promise everything that I could promise, and pledged my life and soul to faithfully repay him if he would give me my liberty; but he only laughed at me the more. At last, I ceased my importunities, from sheer exhaustion, and throwing myself upon the straw, became passive, and must have again lost conscious- ness; for, when I once more raised up, the man who had before been with me had disappeared, and by the dim light of a lantern, which was hanging from a nail over the door, I recognized Sturges himself upon the stool where I had last seen the strange man sitting. "The sight of him made me more desperate than ever, and, denouncing him in the bitterest terms for his baseness, I de- manded my instant release. His only answer was a sneer. "I sprang upon him like a tiger, and before he was aware of my purpose, I had grappled him with my chained hands by the throat. "He struggled desperately, but the strength of ten men seemed to possess me, and, manacled as I was, I kept my hold upon him, until, with a sudden motion, he managed to get me by the throat OUT OF THE STREETS. 305 in turn, and, tripping me at the same time, he released himself from my hold, and forced me to the floor, where he held me until I was nearly suffocated. Releasing me at last, he rose, and giving me a violent kick, bade me get up. A"I did so after a few moments, and would have renewed the struggle to the death.; but, seizing .the stool upon which he had been sitting, he raised it above his head, and swore if I ap- proached him he would dashed out my brains. "' It is no use for you to struggle and fight,' he said, panting for the breath I had so nearly entirely deprived him of. 'You can't do anything alone, and if you should call till you split your lungs, there's no one to hear you.' "' Why am I here?' I asked. ' By whose orders or authority? "' Never mind by whose orders. You are here by my will, and that's enough; and here you will stay until you are able to listen to reason.' "'Villain!' I exclaimed. 'I have fathomed your purpose. You are in league with those who have so treacherously betrayed me, and you detain me here, fearful lest I should bring those in whose vile pay you are to justice.' "'If you hadn't been blind, you might have found that out long ago,' he answered. 'You don't suppose that those who sent you here were such fools as not to provide against the chances of your returning, do you? There's no use keeping it from you any longer, for when you know all I know, you will perhaps be willing to listen to reason, and take the only chance there is left for you. The letter which you brought to me, and which you thought was written to secure my aid in furthering the business you had been sent to do, was simply to inform me of another letter, written at the suggestion of an old friend of mine, a detective officer in New York, and which had been sent by Mr. Maberly Heaton, and contained full instructions as to what I was to do. The principal thing required of me was to keep you from going back to New York, at all hazards, and to prevent your arrest here, so that you could not squeal,* or make any statement which might compro. mise those who sent you out. * Thieves' slang-meaning. to tell the truth. page: 306-307[View Page 306-307] 306 OUT OF THE STREETS. (' As I was assured of a liberal reward for my trouble, in case I carried out my instructions, I undertook the job; and as I do not intend, after all the trouble I have had, to lose what I've worked for, you can make up your mind exactly what to expect. Now we understand one another.' "I listened to him," Harry continued, " perfectly aghast at the coolness with which he confirmed all the dreadful suspicions I had formed, and for some time did not reply, but sat reflecting upon my situation. "I had not been arrested by any authority of law; he had ad- mitted that. I was kept a prisoner by him, for his own purposes, and subject entirely to his power, which would be exercised in x any way which might best promote his interests. Meanwhile, I must remain under the suspicion of being guilty of the crimes of which I stood accused, without the possibility of being heard f- in my own defence-buried alive, as it were, no one knowing or I-. caring for my fate. The letter which I had written to Mr. Lox- ley was already on its way, and the non-fulfillment of my promise to return would serve to confirm my guilt. I looked at my be- JI,' trayer, as he sat within a few feet of me, and read in his deter- mined looks how hopeless any attempt would be to move him from his purpose. A feeling of the most helpless despair came over me, and I could have wept, but that a certain pride restrained my tears. "At last, with a desperate determination to know the full intent and purpose of this fiend, I turned toward him and asked, 'What do you require of me. Do you intend to take my life?' "'That will be a last resort,' was his reply. 'You can leave this place, and be free to go where you will, so that you do not return to the States. Australia, the Sandwich Islands, China, Japan, or Europe. Take your choice of any country you'd like to go to, except the States, and you can go to-morrow, on one condition, and that is, that you sign a full confession of the de- falcation! I have one already prepared, and pen and ink in my pocket. Sign it and you are free, with money enough in your pocket to take you wherever you desire to go.' "' I will die first,' I replied, rising to my feet and confronting him boldly, 'I will rot in this hole piecemeal, undergo any tor- " OUT OF THE STREETS. 307 ture of mind or body, before I will purchase my freedom, or even my life, by such a confession.' "'As you please,' he answered. 'Those are the only terms I have to propose. Your obstinacy will put me to more trouble than I should have if you were out of the way; but I can put an end to that whenever I please! I have only to forget to feed you for a few days, or can even make shorter work of it, by get- ting my friend, Jack Wilson, whose acquaintapce you have already made, and who sticks at notiing that promises speedy payment, to administer a leaden pill to you I'm sorry for you. I know your case is a hard one, but charity begins at home. I've been down in my luck for a good while, and you will have to help to make me even. 'Your confession or your death will either suit the purposes of those who have put up this job for you, and you can make up your mind which you prefer.' "'But,' I urged, grasping at the only hope I had of moving him,' I have friends whose position and wealth is far beyond that of those who have employed you to do this terrible thing. They would give more to know me innocent than these wretches can pay you to clear their reputation of the crime which they would fasten upon me. Name any sum which will satisfy you, and I will pledge my life it shall be paid.' "'A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,' he replied. 'You don't take into account the value that the secret, which I shall alone possess in the event of your confession or your death, will be to me. You don't suppose I'll ever let go my grip on those men, do you? If you are of a revengeful disposition, you may find some consolation in that. I'll drain 'em as dry as hay. You may swear to that on your dying bed. No, you have heard my prop- osition. If you accept it, all right; if not, you know the conse- quences. I leave you to think over it! ' and he rose to go. "'You will at least take off these fetters,' I said, holding my hands toward him. 'They are painful to me.' D" 'I don't know whether I ought to risk it,' he replied, (after the way you treated me just now; but, as I shall not let you up as easy again, if you ever show fight a second time, but shoot you down in your tracks at the first show of resistance, I'll oblige you. "'And,' he added, producing a pistol, 'you can see that I page: 308-309[View Page 308-309] 308 OUT OF THE STREETS. could have quieted you quicker than I did, if I had felt like it. I didn't want to kill you; but I swear if ever you try it on again you'll do it at the cost of sudden death.' "With this he took a key from his pocket, and, unlocking the handcuffs, released my wrists, keeping his eye on mine the while, rid and still holding the pistol in his hand. "There,' he sid, as he placed a key in the door and shot back the rusty bolt, 'you will be more comfortable now, and can think over what we said at your ease. Jack will bring your supper, and will keep you from being lonesome.' "With this he disappeared, closing the door after him, leaving me alone, a prey to the most fearful mental agony of which the mind can conceive. The idea of complying with Sturges's demand never for a moment occurred to me. Starvation, torture, death, in their most repulsive and terrible forms, would be far preferable, and I re. solved to hold out to the last, leaving it to Heaven to vindicate my memory in its own good time, and by means which I felt as- sured would be effectual. "As I sat thus, buried in my thoughts, the sudden opening of the door startled me from my gloomy reverie,- and, looking up, ] saw Jack Wilson entering my cell.' As he did so, the light fron the lantern fell full upon his face, and I started as I recognized in his villanious features a strong resemblance to some one I had known before."' OUT OF THE STREETS. 309 CHAPTER XXXIX. THE DEVIL'S MLL-RACE-THE ESCAPE. - -- -"Better Die soon than live on lingering in pain."-Two FOSCARI. a A beam of comfort, like the moon through clouds, Gilds the black horror anddirects my way."-DRYDEN. "JACK WILSON'," Harry continued, "placed some water, a bot- tle of wine and some food, upon the floor, and saying, 'I've brought your supper,) seated himself upon the low stool, and in- stantly fixed his gaze upon me, as he had before. "' You might have spared yourself the trouble,' I said, 'for I can eat nothing.' "' You'll come to it in time,' he answered, rising, and picking up the bottle of. wine and raising it to his lips. "He took a long, gurggling draught, and replacing the bottle upon the floor, growled out: "' There's some water, if you want a drink. Wine for me and water for you. It's wishy-washy stuff. I like to feel what I drink cut as it goes down!' "I made no reply, and Jack, after filling his mouth with a piece of tobacco, which he cut off with a murderous-looking knife from a huge plug of the weed which he took from his pocket, mastica- ted it for a moment, and then looked at me, shaking the knife meanwhile toward me, saying: "(No tricks, mind! Your handcuffs are off, but don't try to ride rusty, or I'll let daylight into you with this!' "'You need make no threats,' I answered. ' am perfectly resigned to my fate.' "'Then you've made up your mind to stay here, have you?' he answered. ( So much the better for me. The longer the job the bigger the pay! page: 310-311[View Page 310-311] 310 OUT OF THE STREETS. "The more I looked at this man, the more certain I felt that I had met him before, but when or where I could not recall to mind. I could not take my eyes from his face, but sat in a sort of half stupor, puzzling my brain to identify him. He also -kept his eyes fixed on me, watching my every movement. "At last, overcome by the excitement I had undergone, and being still weak from the effects of the potion I had taken, I threw myself back upon the straw, and soon fell asleep. Daylight was struggling in through the bars of my cell when I awoke, and, to my great relief, found myself alone. U( X "The food and jug of water remained upon the floor, and I took a long drink, to satisfy the intolerable thirst I felt, but I turned from the food with loathing. Ef s "As I sat brooding over my helpless condition, I remembered the letter of Samuel Heaton which I had carried in the breast- pocket of my coat. I searched for it, but it was not there. "My pockets had been rifled, and my money, papers, watch, all had been taken. The only thing left to me was a small ring set with torquoise, a gift from Miss Loxley when she was a little child, which she had presented to me in acknowledgment of a trifling service I had performed when a boy." "A trifling service!" Peter Pivot exclaimed. "He calls sav- ing a young lady from the bite of a mad dorg, and an attack of 'ydrofogy, a trifling service. Excuse me. Go h'on!" "The trinket," Harry continued, " had escaped their search, and its safety gave me great pleasure for a (moment, but this was fol- lowed by the most acute mental suffering, as it recalled my remem- brances of the the past, nly hopeful dreams of the future, and the terrible realities of the present. "About the middle of the day Jack again made his appearance, to renew the water and food, which he did, and again left me without a word. Hi -"When I was again alone I took a few mouthfuls of the food, and, feeling strengthened, made a closer inspection of my place of confinement than I had hitherto done. "The walls were built of massive stones, closely fitted together, and seemed to have stood for centuries. The floor was solid rock. The door was of oak, and hung on massive hinges, curi- OUT OF THE STREETS. 3" and the narrow opening, which served for a window, was too narrow to admit of the passage of the upper part of my arm through the outer portion of it. The inside was protected by large bars of iron, which years of rust had worn considerably at the ends, but which were yet so firm and strong as to make any attempt to move them useless. Going to the door, I tried to move it, and by putting my Shoulder against it, succeeded in jamming it a little, making a slight noise, which seemed to arouse some one outside, f6r I heard a low growling voice muttering something which I could not distinctly hear. "At night Jack Wilson again entered the cell, bringing me food and water, and remaining until morning, when he awoke me, saying: "'Whenever you want to see Rube Sturges, let me know. IIll come when you send for him, and not till you do.' "'Then he will never come,' I replied, 'for I shall never send- for him. Tell him my determination is unalterable.' "'You're a plucky cuss now, but your pluck'll give out some day,' he answered. "'Never! ' I answered. 'Neither he nor you need think of it. I will die here rather than live dishonored.' "(All right, if you kin keep it up! That's all,' he answered, and left me again alone. "Three weeks passed in this manner, Jack Wilson bringing my food daily, and remaining with me at night, Sturges sending me an occasional message, but never entering my cell or holding direct communication with me. "At last, tired of my obstinacy, and determined to bring matters to a crisis, he surprised me one morning by making his appear- ance almost immediately after Wilson had left. "He did not say a word until he had locked the door behind him, when, turning toward me, he exclaimed: - "'You are an obstinate fellow, and so am I. You stick to your word. I never break mine in an affair of this kind, but I have not quite so much patience as you seem to possess. It's nearly a nlonth since you came here, and the affair is no nearer an end than it was then. I am getting tired of it. Will you sign this paper?' page: 312-313[View Page 312-313] I------ . 312 OUT OF THE STREETS. j1 "' No! a thousand times no!' I replied. 4 You have decided'?' he asked. , I have,' I replied. , Kill me'here, on the spot, if you please. for he'll show none!' "He waited a moment for me to reply, but, as I did not speak, he left me, closing the door angrily after him, and shooting the bolt with a lolid clang. "The crisis had evidently come, and I must prepare for the worst. I did not shrink. My only regret was that I left no one behind me who could or would defend my memory from the taint of crime. "When Jack made his appearance, which he did atnoon,h wore a more sullen and ferocious look than was common even t him, and took up his usual position on the stool without saying "As I sat watching him, the old thought came over me that had met this man somewhere before, and I made up my mind t t1i question him in regard to that impression. Wicked and cruel a he looked, and as he undoubtedly was, there might be some chor in his heart which might be struck so as to force it to vibrate t a human and kindly impulse. I felt I had nothing to hope froi Sturges, nor had I reason to found any upon this man; still, I ra solved to make an effort to arouse some show of sympathy for n within his breast. "As I turned my eyes toward him, I found his fixed on me wil the same curious expression I had frequently noticed before. "' What do you see in my face, Wilson,' I asked, 'that y( study it so much? ' "A cat may look at a king, I reckon,' he replied gruffly. "' I made no objection,' I answered. 'I only asked what y saw in my face.' "'Something I can't make out,' he answered. "'I'll tell what it is,' I replied. 'It is the same thing thai OUT OF THE STREETS. 313 have met before. Where and when, perhaps you can tell me.' "'If you will tell me what Rube Sturges has all along refused, to tell me, and what I didn't care to ask yourself, maybe I kin and maybe I can't,' he answered. 'What is your name?' ' So you have been my jailer for a month past, and do not know my name. That is strange,' I observed with a view of drawing him out. i "' I axed Rube Sturges once, and got cussed for my pains,' was his reply, 'and I didn't ax no more. It was none o' my business any way. 'He pays me well for looking arter you, and that was all I cared for. But the job's most done now, and I should like to know who it is I've kept so close an eye on. I've kind o' thought we'd met afore myself, but it's onlikely. I knowed a boy once that, if he'd lived, would, I reckon, looked like you.' "' A boy!' I exclaimed, rising suddenly and going close to him. 'A boy! I see it all now I was a boy then! Your name is not Jack Wilson, but Dick Watkins!' "He started to his feet in turn, and staggering back, gazed at me a moment with a face full of surprise, and exclaimed: "' oast me alive, if I wasn't on the right trail arter all, for if you knew me as Dick Watkins, I knew you' as Harry Wright! "'You did? The same name as I bear to-day!' "Well, by G--d!' he muttered, as if to himself, and sitting himself down on the side of my bunk, he rested his head upon his hands, and remained for some time without speaking, appar- ently absorbed in his reflections. "I was the first to break the silence. "!"' I have believed you dead for years,' I said. 'I saw you car- ried past me lifeless, and terribly injured. Never seeing or hear- ing from you again, I thought you had died!' '"'I did come purty near it, all owin' to you! Arter you gin me the slip, as you did the night o' the fire, when I had such a narrow squeeze for it, where did you go? Did Kate get a-hold of you?' "'You mean Mrs. Stevenson, your sister? No. I have never seen her since. It is strange that you, who were my jailer when a boy, should be my jailer here, in thi-far-off place now that I page: 314-315[View Page 314-315] 314 OUT OF THE STREETS. "'Burn me if it ain't!' he answered, still in his meditative way. 'Roast me if it isn't the strangest thing that I ever heard on, that you should turn up here in such a way, and I should be put to watch over you for him, just as I watched over you once for myself.' "'Why did you- watch, over me then? I asked. 'What was your object in keeping me a prisoner as you did?' "'Didn't you never find out?' he asked in surprise. 'Don't you know now?' "' No; it has always been a mystery to me, as it is now,' I an- swered. "Again he stopped and seemed to be absorbed in his own thoughts. "As I looked at him, and remembered how cruel he had been to me, the faint hope, that for a moment inspired me to believe that I could prevail upon him to befriend me, almost vanished. Yet I had no hope but in him, and, desperate as the chance was, I resolved not to abandon it. "At last he raised his head, and, looking me in the face with a searching gaze, asked: "' Did you never find out your father? "' My father!' I replied in astonishment. 'He was dead, Mr. Pivot has often told me-he was drowned at sea before I was born.' "He continued to gaze at me with the same searchinglook for a moment, and then muttered: "'So he was. Yes, so he was. How did you come here? and what does Rube want o' you?' "You do not know?' I asked. "' I don't know nothing, only he paid me to stand guard over you, and to-night I am to take you away.' "' Where to? I asked. "'Now you want to know too much,' he replied.-' Answer my question first, and then maybe I'll answer yours.' "Without further hesitation I related, as briefly as I could, my history from the time he had known me; the manner in which I had been sent to California, and all the particulars of the plot against me,not forgetting to impress upon him the motives which Sturges had in keeping me a prisoner. OUT OF THE STREETS. 315 "Dick listened to me with much interest, never interrupting me but once, when I mentioned lMr. Heaton's name. Then he started to his feet with an oath, and asked me to repeat the name. "I did so. "' What was his first name?' he asked. "'Samuel,' I told him. 'His grandson, who procured the ser- vices of Sturges, was named M[aberly Heaton; he is the son of Sydney Heaton.' "When I had explained this, he rose, paced up and down the room for a few moments, and then exclaimed: "Here's a game here I can't see, and ain't up to. It beats my time. Roast me in burning flames, but this is the queerest start I ever heard tell of!' "When I had concluded my story, I said: "'There are people in New York who would willingly pay more to know me innocent than these people will to have the world believe me guilty. Enable me to escape, and I promise you a far richer reward than you can ever hope to receive by carrying out the cruel plans of Sturges. With my death, your wages cease, and he will reap all the profit of it.' "' And have a secret besides,' Dick broke in, 'that, if played start, would be a fortun' to anybody. I see his little game now I I'd like to ring a cold deck in on him and rake the pile! I kin do it! I hold better cards than he does, and know better what they're worth!' "He said this as if communing with himself, and not to me; but it gave me my cue, and, buoyed up with hope, I urged upon him every argument to induce him to assist in my escape. "He listened to me without making me any reply for a long time. At last he said: "'You are sure it was the Heatons that put this job upon you? ' "'There can be no doubt of that,' I replied. 'The object of my journey hither is fully explained in the letter of instructions I received from Mr. Samuel Heaton.' "'Where is that letter? ' he asked. Have you got it?' I told him that i had been taken from me by Sturges, to- gether with what money I had about me. page: 316-317[View Page 316-317] 316 OUT OF THE STREETS. "' How much money did you have? Dick asked. "'About a hundred dollars, in my pocket, though there is nearly a thousand dollars in my trunk at the hotel,' I answered. But how can I get it?' "' You couldn't get away without money, and plenty of it,' Dick said, 'if I should go back on Rube, and agree to go in for you.' "If I could but get the trunk; but that's impossible, without exposing myself to further detention,' I said. " s"' Rube has the trunk! He got it from the hotel a week ago,' was Dick's reply. "Has he opened it? I asked. "'Not yet,' Dick replied. He has been away ever since, up to Marysville, and only come back last night. It's here at the Ranche.' "' What Ranche? I 'asked. 'Where am I, then? "' You're at Pulte's Ranche, twenty miles from San Francisco,' Dick answered. "' And this cell-is it a prison?' I inquired "' It's as good,' he answered, with me to keep a lookout. It's a part of the old Jesuit church, which was built here a couple o' hundred years ago.' Then, turning upon me suddenly, he asked, Have you and Sydney Heaton ever come together?X "I informed him that I had seen him once or twice in the bank, when he had called to see his father, but had never spoken to him. "Then he inquired if he was rich, if his wife was living, and a great number of questions, all of which I was enabled to answer to his evident satisfaction, after which he pondered again for a long time, while I stood by, nearly mad with suspense. "Unable to bear the uncertainty any longer, I exclaimed: "'Answer me at once. Will you do as I require or not? No reward that I can promise can be too great, if you will but help me to escape from this dreadful place. Think of the great wrong which has been done to me! Think of the shame and disgrace jlsv which will ever attach to my name if I fail to return and give the lie to this damning falsehood. Let me implore you to be merciful, as you yourself expect mercy.' 'It " ' Nobody ever showed .Taclk n' ft hFe lleh .nv nrowr-a h. ,a .; OUT OF THE STREETS. 3 317 sullenly, and I don't knowthe meaning o' the word! But,' he added, ' it's a good game in good hands. If I play it, I play to win for myselfmind that. It ain't done for you, though, to make it sure, I've got to let you in. Now, listen. To-night I amto take you away from here. No matter where I was going to take you, you'd never been heard on again, sure. We kisrt justas we was going to, and if I kin get hold o the money in our trunk, why, maybe we will take a different journey fro that Rube ex pects.' ourney from that Rube ex- "' And the letter,' I urged. 'Do no forget that, for the osses- sion of that letter is necessary to prove my innocence and their guilt.' "'I ain't agoin' to make any promises now,' Dick said. I'll think over the matter. You will know all about it to-night after we start. If I make up my mind to go in for you, you'll soon find it out, and if I go in for him, you will be out o' your trouble, any- confab! Talking with the prisoler is forbid ' Again I renewed my importunities, but he would not listen to them, but, unlocking the door, merely said: 'You'll know what I've made up my mind to do before we've been an hour away from here. Either way you'l be out o' your misery, and that's all I've got to say now.' ' ac agW t th ise left me alone "With this he left me alone, in a state of mind which I cannot describe. "Some time after Sturges again visited me, and again urged my compliance with his request. Of course I refused, and he went away swearing that I had pronounced my own fate. "It was nearly midnight when Dick returned. He was dressed as if for a journey, was heavily armed, and was accom- panied by Sturges, who ordered me to leave the cell and follow Dick. "'I will give you one more chance,' he added, 'before you start. Will you sign the paper I have asked you to sign before?' 'No, I replied. 'Though death stares me in the face, I will die asserting my innocence. In Heaven I put my trust, and Death will be but a blessed release from all that I have endured since I fell into your treacherous hands.' "'Enough!, he exclaimed, and turning to Dick, said: ! page: 318-319[View Page 318-319] 318 OUT OF THE STREETS. Y"'You have your orders-obey them. No fooling with me. Carry out your instructions to the letter! "' Al right, captain,' was Dick's response, and, seizing me by the shoulder, he pushed me out of the cell and through a long sort of corridor, unlighted, save by the moon, whose beams shone in at the opposite end. "When we arrived in the open air I saw two horses ready sad- l, died. "I mounted one, in obedience to Sturges's orders. I had no sooner done so than Sturges produced a pair of handcuffs, which he clasped upon my wrists, while Dick firmly fastened my legs to the stirrup-straps, so that it would have been utterly impossi- ble for me either to escape or defend myself. "These preparations completed, Dick mounted in his turn, and taking the reins which lay upon the neck of the horse upon which I was fastened, turned to Sturges and said: "'All right!' "'Then go,' Sturges replied; 'and let me hear a good report of you by sunrise.' "' Good-by, Mr. Wright. You may be sure I will give a good account of you to those dear friends of yours in New York.' ' I made no answer. "Dick started his horse and moved away, leading mine by his side. Our pace was slow at first, but gradually increased as we de- scended into a valley which lay between the range of hills upon which the Ranche was situated. "Not a word was spoken by either of us for at least an hour, when we reached about half way to the summit of a high hill, where the road was just wide enough to enable our horses to pass abreast. "On our right yawned a gulf .some two or three hundred feet deep, at the bottom of which the rushing and seething of waters could be heard, as a river forced its way over the rugged and jagged rocks below. "(This is the spot,' Dick said, in a gruff voice, when we had reached the centre of the causeway. 'My orders are to put a bullet through your brain and pitch you over into the river.' II! OUT OF THE STREETS. 319 "'And do you intend to obey your orders?' I asked, with a sinking at the heart and a dizziness of the head, which no effort of my will could prevent. "'You'll learn that in a moment,' he replied, as, dismounting, he drew a knife from his pocket, and cut the fastenings which bound my limbs. Then, with a key, similar to that with which Sturges had fastening the handcuffs on my wrist, he released my hands, and instantly drawing a pistol from his belt, he placed the muzzel within an inch of my head! "One crook of my finger,' he said, in a low, hoarse voice, ' and the next moment you will be a heap of flesh and old clothes at the bottom of the Devil's Mill-race! I have got the money and the letter. If I let up on you, and help you off,. will you swear never to get me into trouble or to interfere with my plans, what- ever they are? "'I will promise to do anything you may require, except deny my innocence!' I answered. "' And won't go back on your word?' he urged. "'No! I will not! . You may trust me!' "' I will!' he said, and putting the reins into my hands, he hastily remounted, and exclaiming, 'Now ride for your life! he put spurs to his horse, and fired his pistol in the air. 'e'll be watching out for that,' he said, in explanation, ' and that'll fool him! "But suddenly the quick gallop of a horse behind us fell upon our ears, and a voice was heard calling out, 'Halt halt!' "Dick heard it, and exclaimed: "'By G-d! he has been watching us! He has missed the let- ter, and found the trunk broken open. Here, take this pistol and defend yourself! We can't get away from that sorrel mare of his! We'll have to fight for it! It is no use running; wait till he comes up! "'He drew rein instantly, I following his example; and, look- ing back, we saw, by the light of the moon, Sturges riding across the narrow causeway at full speed! "' Halt! ' Dick cried-' halt or I fire! He had scarcely spoken before Sturges discharged his pistol as he rode, the ball whizzing past my head so close that I felt the movement of the air! page: 320-321[View Page 320-321] 320 OUT OP THE STREETS. "The report from Dick's pistol followed in an instant, and I saw Sturges reel in his saddle! "Another shot from Dick struck the horse, which instantly plunged forward! "Then there was a loud scream of despair and baffled rage, and, in another moment, both horse and rider disappeared over the side of the precipice into the gulf below! "' There goes as fine a mare, and as big a scoundrel, as ever won a race, or lagged a cross! * I've owed him that for ten years, and more, and now I paid him!' Dick muttered to himself. "' Poor wretch! ' I exclaimed. 'May Heaven have mercy on him!' "'Heaven won't see much o' him, I reckon,' Dick replied. 'But come on; we've got a long ride, and a roundabout one, to take.' "I need go no further into details," Harry continued. "We found refuge for . time with some of Dick's acquaintances among the mines, and eventually returned to San Francisco, where we kept secluded until the steamer sailed. We went on board the night before, having secured, through Dick's friends, passage in the steerage, and arrived to-day without further adventure." "Then, Dick Watkins, or Jack Wilson, is here "Leopard asked. "He is on board the steamer," Harry replied. "But, remem- ber, my word is pledge for his safety!" "I shall not hurt a hair of his head,' Leopard answered; " but I must see him in the morning. Have no fear of the future," he continued, grasping Harry by the hand.. ( Meet me here at ten o'clock in the morning. Your innocence will be easily shown, and to-morrow you may hold up your head with the proudest.". "Yes, and with the richest, too, I 'ope," Peter exclaimed. "Oh, but this is as good as a play!" What do you mean?"Harry asked, in surprise. "What do I mean! Why, that you are a h'eir, and,'I 'ope, a mil- lionh'aire!"Peter responded, slapping him on the back. "But, come along, and I'll tell you all about it as we go 'ome to my 'ouse. No sleeping aboard the ship to-night." And, with many thanks to Leopard, who had listened with so much patience to IIarry's story, they left the Police headquarters, and proceeded toward the mansion of the Pivots. * Arrested as a thief. ] OUT OF THE STREETS. 321 CHAPTER XL. THE MORNING DAWNS. a To the fond doubting heart its hopes appear Too brightly fair, too sweet to realize."--Ms. TIGHE THE unexpected news which Peter had imparted to Harry con. cerning the inquiries made in relation to him, excited him to an unusual degree, nor would he be satisfied until the undertaker had informed him of all he knew of his mother's early history, This Peter did, disguising nothing. The young man was deeply moved by the sad recital, again and again expressing his thanks to Peter for the many acts of kindness and friendship which he had shown him. "The moment that I have cleared up this villainous business,' Harry exclaimed, " and redeemed my reputation in the eyes of those who have been my friends,I will visit South Mitchim. Perhaps I may learn more than has yet been disclosed to you touching my parents. It is strange that nothing has ever been known of my father's family; that no inquiry has ever been made concerning the manner of his death. I am sure there is some mystery connected with it, and from words that Dick Watkins has carelessly dropped, I suspect that he can do much toward clearing it up. I have often tried to account for the strangq manner in which he sought to detain me a prisoner when I first came from Randall's Island, and since leaving California, I have. felt certain that he is in possession of some secret concerning me on which he meant to trade to his own advantage. I am now more convinced of it than ever, and that this secret is in some way connected with my parents." "I shouldn't wonder," Peter replied-"I shouldn't wonder. Leave 'im to Captain Leopard; if he's got a secret, he'll worm it h'out of 'im. But I shall write to h'England at once, and tell h'all I know." page: 322-323[View Page 322-323] 322 OUT OF THE STREETS. "Not till after we have seen Samuel Heaton and his scoundrel of a grandson," Harry replied. it Unless I am able to establish my innocence, not only in your eyes, my dear old friend, but in the eyes of all the world, I prefer to remain in the obscurity in which I have hitherto lived.? Peter, after much persuasion, agreed to all Harry asked on this subject, and they separated, Harry returning to the ship in spite of all Pivot's efforts to detain him. At the appointed time next day, they met Captain Leopard; who received them with evident signs of pleasure, and inviting them to be seated, excused himself for a moment, and continued the writing upon which he was engaged when they entered the room. He wrote on rapidly for a few moments, and then:laying down his pen, turned toward Harry, saying: "I have not been idle since I saw you, gentlemen. In fact, I became so interested in your story, and all the circumstances con- nected with it, that I could scarcely sleep all night. By-the-way, I presume you have the letter which Mr. Heaton gave you when you were sent away, Mr. Wright?" "No, I have not," Harry replied. i"When I arrived on board the ship, after leaving here last night, I sought Dick Watkins, for the purpose of obtaining it from him; but he was nowhere to be found, and I was informed that he had left the ship about an hour previous to my return, in company with a strange man who had come on board in search of him. He had not returned this morning; but if I can but confront Mr. Heaton, I hardly think he will deny the existence of the letter; and if he does--" "Why, all we should have to do," Leopard said, interrupting Harry, and taking a pieee of paper from the table before him and raising it above his head, "would be to astonish him by produc- ing it. Look here!" 3 Harry rose, and, seizing the paper which Leopard extended to- ward him, exclaimed: {"Why, this is it! The same letter which Dick Watkins has kept in his possession ever since the day of my escape!" S"I told you I had not been idle," Leopard replied. "Tihe strange man with whom Wilson left the ship was myself!" "Well, dash my buttons!"Peter said, seizing Leopard's hand OUT OF THE STREETS. 323 and shaking it in his usual energetic manner, i" this beats h'any- think I ever 'eard h'on! Why, you're a regular h'Argus!" "I gave," Leopard continued, "such good reasons why he should place that paper in my possession, that he could not refuse to let me have it, and when I had it in my hands, I was not long in making use of it, as this other document will prove!" As he spoke, Leopard took from a large pocket-book, which he carried in the breast of his coat, an envelope, which he opened, and handed from among its contents a letter to Harry, who eagerly seized it, and tearing it open, read, as follows:- NEW YORK i; ' MR. HARRY WRIGHT-DEAR SIRt:-The investigation which is just completed, entirely exonerates you from the charge of any complicity whatever in the recent heavy defalcations which were committed by parties as yet unknown, but with whom you could not possibly have been in collusion. No one can regret more than myself the inconvenience and mortification which the reports recently circulated to your discredit ghave caused you, and I beg to assure you that every means will be taken to relieve you from * the false imputations under which you have so long rested. '"Your obedient servant, "SAMUEL HEATON, "( Late President of the Bank of Gotham." "Then you have seen Samuel Heaton?"Harry exclaimed. "I left him but an hour ago," Leopard answered. "And does he imagine," Harry responded, " that I will rest sat- isfied with a statement such as this? Does he think that I shall forgive the cowardly and monstrous wrong he has done me? and that, after covering me with shame, heaping disgrace upon me, and causing me the intense mental and physical suffering he has, I shall accept this in full satisfaction for all? No, no! the shame which has made me bow my head shall humble him; the disgrace I have felt he shall feel; and what I have suffered he shall endure!! If there be law or justice in the land, I will invoke their full power upon him!" "Hurray!"Peter exclaimed. "That's right! He Nhought to be 'ung! Why he's a worse conspirator than Capipoline!" "Your feelings are but natural," Leopard answered, addressing Harry, after Peter had subsided; A" and should you carry out your threat, there is no doubt but that it would go hard with those who have placed you in the false position you have been in; but there page: 324-325[View Page 324-325] 324 OUT OF THE STREETS. are reasons why you should at present pursue this business no fur- ther. This letter from Mr. Heaton is all that is necessary to ex- onerate you from the charges which have been brought against you; and I shall take good care that Mr. Heaton keeps his prom- ise to me, and makes this letter public. It will appear, with full explanations, in all the daily papers, and you may rest assured that you will find yourself thoroughly reinstated in the good opinion of your friends and the public." "But it is my duty," Hatrry replied, "to expose this man, to let the world know him as he is, and to mete out to him and his grandson, whose conduct, I have reason to believe, was prompted by the basest motives, the punishment due to their dastardly of- fence!" "To be sure," Peter broke in again, in an excited manner. "He owes it to the public to 'old them fellows h'up to public h'execration and h'odium!!" "I think you believe nie to be your friend," Leopard replied, "and that I would advise you to do nothing which would not be for the best!" "I am sure of that," responded Harry. "Very well, then. I assure you that I have good reasons for believing that, should you carry out your proposed course against these people, you would, perhaps, regret it hereafter. - You have suffered much, and these persons ought to be punished; but for the present, at least, let me beg of you, for reasons which I hope soon to be able to explain, but upon which I cannot speak more ex- plicitly now, to rest satisfied with this letter, and the public denial of your connection with the defalcation." Harry paused a moment, and then, taking Leopard's hand, said: "I should be ungrateful did I not place implicit trust in you, after the interest you have manifested in this matter, and I cheer- fully promise to do as you desire." "As I knew you would," Leopard replied, returning his saluta-. tion; " and you have decided wisely. I have as yet but a faint' glimmering of something that may effect your entire future con- duct; but I shall, I hope, have a communication to make to you in a few days, which will satisfy you of that, at any rate. In the OUT OF THE STREETS. ' 325 meantime, you will send me your address, so that I may be able to communicate with you." "You will find him at my louse," Peter exclaimed. That's his 'ome for the present. Eh, 'Arry, my boy?" "With all my heart," Harry replied. "But, captain, you will not forget that my word is pledged to Dick Watkins that no harm should befall him through me." "Have no fear," Leopard answered; "my old friend Jack is perfectly safe, and will have no cause to find fault with you. He will turn up all right in good time, so you may make your mind easy about him." With this understanding, Harry once more thanked the captain for his kindness, and went away with his friend, with a lighter heart and a prouder step that he had borne for many a day. His first impulse was to visit Agnes and satisfy her of his inno, cence; but Peter would not listen to his doing anything of the kind until he had called, in company with him, upon Narr & Chambers, his attorneys, before whom Peter laid the advertise- ment which had attracted his attention, and put them in posses- sion of such imformation concerning Harry's birth and parentage as was necessary to establish his identity as the son of Helen Fairly. In accordance with his instructions, a letter was forthwith writ. ten to Messrs. Pounce & Vellum, in response to the advertisement, and this accomplished, Peter gave a sigh of relief, and graciously informed Harry that now he might go where he pleased. As they rose to go, a gentleman, past the middle age, entered the office, in an excited manner, saying: "Pardon me for interrupting you, but my business is very urgent." "I am quite at your service, Doctor Bolton," Narr replied, ris. ing and leading the way to an inner room. "This way." Doctor Bolton, for it was he, entered the room at once, looking perplexed and anxious, and as the door closed behind him, Narr's voice was heard exclaiming: "Returned! You surprise me!" Harry's anxiety to see Agnes, and place before her the prooms he now held of his innocence, was too great to admit of longer delay, so, as soon as they were outside of the lawyer's office, he page: 326-327[View Page 326-327] 326 OUT OF THE STREETS. bade Peter good-by, and proceeded in the direction of Agnes's new home. He had learned from the newspapers of the failure and death of Mr. Loxley, and the news had been a source of much grief to him, for he had a warm attachment for the banker, to whom he owed so much; and he knew besides what a heavy blow it must have been to Agnes, who so dearly loved her father. , OUT! OF THE STREETS. 3 CHAkPTE? :SLT. BECOMPEri]S t"I love thee, and I meel That in the fountain of my heart a seal Is set, to keep its waters pure and bright For thee."' WITS beating heart and trembling hands Harry Tang the bell. A servant opened the door. He inquired for Mrs. Loxley. "She is not at home!" the servant replied. "Is Miss Loxley at home?"Harry asked. "Yes, sir, ]Miss Loxley is at home." "Have the kindness to say that Mr. Harry Wright-desires to see her." - The servant showed Harry into the small parlor on the first floor, and- proceeded to deliver her message. How his heart fluttered as he sat waiting the presence of her who was all the world to him! What thoughts rushed through his brain! How would she receive him? How would she look? Had sorrow and misfortune changed her?: There is a rustle upon the stairs. Then the sound of hastening footsteps descending. Harry rose. The door opened, and Agnes stood, pale and beautiful, before him. Neither spoke for a moment. Agnes's hand still held fast by the door, as if she needed the support, while Harry gazed upon her with a look expressive of admiration and uncertainty. Quickly recovering herself, however, she made a step toward him, extending her hand; which Harry seized, and looking into her beautiful eyes, in which the tears were standing, said, in a low voice: "At last I have kept my promise I " page: 328-329[View Page 328-329] 328 OUT OF THE STREZET. ("As I knew you would! Oh, Mr. Wright!" she exclaimed, withdrawing her hand and half turning away her head to con- ceal the the tears she could not suppress, "you cannot tell how happy your note made me, or how glad I am to see you now! H "1 A thousand thanks!"Harry replied, as, once more taking her tiny hand, he led her to a seat. "This frank and kindly welcome compensates for all that I have suffered, for it proves that, while all the world beside has looked upon me as a wicked ingrate, and as a reckless, dishonorable man, who betrayed his trust, and those who placed confidence in him, you alone still believe him guilt- less." "From the first," Agnes replied, "I never doubted you; nor," she continued, looking up into his face, while fresh tears sprang in her eyes, which she quickly brushed away--"nor did poor papa. Dear, generous, kind man, he never would believe the wicked reports which were in every person's mouth concerning you. I know you will be glad of that. He did no live to receive your letter, which would have confirmed his faith in you," she continued, t" but he did not need even that " "Bless you, bless you!"Harry answered, in a voice which his emotions nearly choked. "How shall I ever thank you for this generous kindness? But, after all, you have but. my denial. See, here are written proofs." "I do not need to read them," Agnes answered. "They would not add to the faith I have always had in your integrity and honor. Show them to those who do not know you. Your simple word is worth all the proofs in the world." ," How happy you make me," Harry replied, "by this generous confidence! Amid all the shame, disgrace and suffering I have endured, the most terrible anguish that I experienced sprang from the dread lest you should think me the wretch they would have made you believe me to be, and now to hear such kind words from your lips fills my soul with joy such as I have never known before." "They told me you would not come back," Agnes answered. "But. I knew you would, and when days and weeks and months rolled round, and you did not come, and we heard nothing of vou----- OUT OF THE STREETS. 329 "Then you began to doubt me!'"Harry said, interrupting her. "No!" she answered. "No; but I was so unhappy, for your absence gave courage to your enemies, and I thought that some- thing terrible had happened to you-that you were dead!" "iMy detention," Harry answered, "was part of the vile plot my enemies had contrived to work my ruin. They never intended that I should return, and but for the merest accident, or rather but for the kind interference of Heaven, who opened the way for my release, I should never have returned to know the intense happiness I feel this moment. Your words and looks have filled my soul with a supreme content, which has but one more boon to ask. Listen to me,"' he continued, taking her hand in his, and speaking in those soft, low tones which Love assumes when it seeks to manifest itself through the lips. "Listen to me, and, if you can, without offence; though something-some new-born -hope, which gives me strength and prompts this boldness-tells me that you will not be offended at my words. I never thought to speak them until now. The thoughts which long have lived within my heart have never, even hi fancy, formed themselves into words. The feelings I have had, anid which now inspire me, have been too sacred to breathe aloud, even to myself, and I had thought to die, and leave them unspoken. But I cannot do so. I must speak. I must frame the love which has absorbed my very soul into such words as may in part express it-not wholly, it is too deep, too great, too holy. It is all I am. It is my life." She did not withdraw her hand, but sat with downcast face and drooping eyes, drinking in his words, trembling and shy, her lovely bosom heaving with the emotions with which her gentle breast was filled. "This love," he went on, clasping her little hand with a more ardent pressure, ,is not the growth of a day, or of a year. It began when I first stood before you, a poor, friendless orphan boy, and my soul quickened with thoughts and impulses it had never known before, when, with a smile an angel might have worn, you pressed this little ring into the homeless wanderer's hand, and bade him keep it for your sake. I have done so," he con- tinued, as he drew a small ring from his breast and held it to- ward her. "In despair and wretchedness, amid; all the temlta- page: 330-331[View Page 330-331] 330 ,oUT OF THE STREETS. tions of-my life, amid all my sorrows and despo ndency, this little ring has been to me a talisman of hope and peace! Heaven, when I was bereft of all else, left me this comfort to sustain me, and it has grown to be more priceless than all beside, save only the tender love I have cherished in my heart, and the wild hope that I have sometimes known, that I might one day tell you of this love, and dare to ask you to bless it with your own. Speak to me, then " he urged, ' speak to me! Say that this love is not despised; say that I am not over-bold, and if you can, if there is such wealth of happiness to be vouchsafed to me, say ,that my hope is not insane; tell me that I am not mad when I ask you to bestow upon me love for love!" For a moment she raised her downcast head. Her eyes, so mild, so full of sympathy and peaceful joy, sought his, and while she murmured his name so softly that none save a lover's ear might catch the sound, she hid her face, all bathed in blushes, on his breast, and a deep sigh told all he wished to know, OUT OF THE STREETS. 331 CHAPTER XLH. AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE APPEARS ON THE STAGE. "What black magician conjures up this fiend "--SHAKESPEARE. THE exclamation which Harry and Peter heard, as they were leaving the office of Narr & Chambers, came from the lips of Mr. Narr, in answer to the sudden and Lhlf-scared anouncement made by the doctor: "That woman has returned!'" "Returned!" exclaimed Narr, in reply, and closing the door. "You surprise me! ' "Her former husband, Rowlston, is dead. He was killed sud- denly by the explosion of a boiler on a Mississippi steamboat," the doctor continued, "and as I knew nothing of it, and the reg- ular allowance which was sent to defray her expenses ceased, she was discharged from the house where we placed her, and returned to the city a week ago." "Why did you not inform us of this event sooner?"Narr asked. "1 I was in hopes that I should be able to induce her to leave the city. I offered, if she would, to provide a home for her; but she refuses, and threatens that unless I take her back again as my wife, to prosecute me for false imprisonment. The exposure would be frightful!"Doctor Bolton exclaimed, wiping the perspiration from his brow, and looking at the attorney with a perplexed and frightened air. "Where is she now?" the lawyer asked. "At my house," the doctor answered. "I was obligedl to take. her in. She refused to leave after once effecting an entrance in the place, and, fearful of a scene, I dared not turn her into the streets." "You must be firmer with her," the lawyer replied. "She has page: 332-333[View Page 332-333] 332 OUT OF THE STRB^TS. no claims upon your sympathy, your consideration, or your purse. I will draw up an affidavit, and at once procure a warrant for her arrest." "( Is there no other course? I the doctor asked. ( I should not like to proceed to extremities until all other means have failed." "She is a desperate woman,"' the lawyer replied, i( and strong measures must be used to surpress her, or she will give you trouble." "Perhaps," the doctor suggested, I( if you were to have an in- terview with her, you might either persuade or frighten her into going away, and we should thus accomplish the object without a scene, or the public scandal which might follow if we resorted to harsher measures." "I'll try what I can do, since you desire it," Narr answered, with a shrug of his narrow shoulders; " but I have no faith in anything but a warrant. When shall I call on her?" "'To-night.'" "Impossible! I have a reference in a divorce case, which will keep me till midnight. - "To-morrow then,", the doctor urged. "To-morrow b e it, then," the attorney assented, and, turning to his table, made a memorandum in his diary, while Doctor Bolb ten took his leave. When the doctor returned to his home in Great Jones-street, Kate was not there. She had sent for a carriage shortly after his departure, and had gone out. As she had done this every day since her return, there was nothing so remarkable in the circumstance as to- cause any sur- prise or comment, though, perhaps, had he known the reason of her absence, and the purpose she had in view, he might have ex- perienced more anxiety. On her return to the city, Kate had sought the doctor immedi- ately-with what object and with what result, the reader already knows. She had then directed her attention toward Sydney Heaton, with the view of pursuing the game she had already commenced with him, but her inquiries only resulted in informa- tion which convinced her that she would be able, in all probabil ity, to drive a better bargain with his wife than with Sydney, whose reverses had completely ruined him, and would prevent OUT OF THE STREETS. 333 him from responding to the heavy demands she would otherwise have made upon his purse as the price of her silence.' Mrs. Heaton she knew to be rich, amply able, and would be more than willing, she thought, to do all she would require; and it was in the full purpose of carrying out this scheme of extor- tion, that she had left Doctor Bolton's house upon the day in question. She is not the same magnificent and voluptuous beauty as when we saw her last, practising her fascinations upon the doctor, and playing her charms against his weakness. Her protracted confinement, the wear and tear of her long sub- dued passions, the hate she had cherished, and the desire for re- venge upon those who had consigned her to the living grave in which she had been immured-all had produced their effect upon her. Her cheeks had lost their plumpness, and their warm, rich color had given place to a sallow tint; her form, once so full and round, a model of symmetry, was shrunken; and her step, so light and elastic once, was heavier now, and slow. Her eyes had not changed. They glowed above her pale and sunken cheeks with all their former brightness, and whenever she grew excited, either in thought or speech, that phosphorescent and peculiar light shone in them which we have so often noted. It is visible now, as she ascends the steps of Mrs. Heaton's splendid mansion, and with a firm, unflinching hand, pulls the massive bell-handle. The servant admits her, receives her card, "Mrs. Stevenson," and shows her into a small reception-room, on the right hand of the hall. The servant returns, and bidding Mrs. Stevenson follow him, precedes her up-stairs, and, opening a door in the front part of the house, introduces, the visitor into the presence of the still beautiful Mrs. Sydney Heaton, who is reclining in a large and luxurious chair, in her own boudoir, the open book in her hand betraying her occupation. The servant announces "Mrs. Steven- son!" and Mrs. Heaton turns her head languidly, expecting to salute one of her Society friends, whose name is identical with that assumed by the strange person, whom she starts with sur- prise at seeing, in place of the lady whom she supposed had called ,aon her. page: 334-335[View Page 334-335] 334 OUT OF THE STREETS. The servant had closed the door after making the announce- ment, leaving the two women alone. "There is some mistake," Mrs. Heaton said, in frigid tones. "I expected a friend, and mistook your card for hers!" ( It is fortunate, perhaps," replied Kate-for so we shall con- tinue to call her--" that the mistake occurred, or you might, per- haps, have declined to receive me, and thus have missed an op- portunity which you would have regretted." W( What do you mean?"Mrs. Heaton asked. "What is your business with me?3" "Permit me to answer your question,"5 Kate replied, with much coolness, '" by asking another. Did you riot once receive a letter from a person signing herself ' A Lynx? It is some years since the letter was written. Did you receive it?" Mrs. Heaton looked at her questioner with surprise for a mo- ment, and seemed to be on the point of declining to answer, for she waved her hand impatiently toward the door; but changing her mind, she said, after a moment's reflection: "Are you the person who wrote the letter?" "I am! 5"Kate answered. "You did not reply to it! ; "It is not customary to answer anonymous letters-at least, I never do so!"Mrs. Heaton answered. "Do you come to renew: the subject of that designing communication? - "In that letter, if -I remember rightly," Kate responded, "I spoke of a secret which I possessed, which nearly concerned you. I hold it yet, and I alone I " "Well?"Mrs. Heaton said, coldly, though a muscular action of her mouth, and a peculiar expression in her eyes, betrayed the interest and curiosity she tried so hard to conceal. "Were the knowledge which I possess concerning you," Kate continued, " made public, your step would not be so proud, and your lip would curl with less scorn, perhaps, than it does now; for your name would be the scoff of a thousand tongues, and your reputation would melt before the blazing scandal, like snow in the full beams of yonder sun!" Mrs. Heaton turned upon Kate, as she uttered these words, with a proud and defiant look, saying; ( Do you come here to threaten and to frighten me? You do OUT OF THE STREETS. 335 not know the woman you have to deal W-ith! Leave me, or I will summon my husband! "Your husband! S Kate exclaimed with a nervous laugh. "Are you sure you have one? Sydney Heaton would scarcely proclaim himself such before me!" "What do you mean "Mrs. Heaton retorted, with repressed excitement and agitation. "Such another insinuation, and I will order my servants to hand you to the police. You cannot frighten me! You cannot extort money from me? You came here to sell a secret! I till give you nothing, promise you nothing! If the information you say you possess- is of the importance you give it, and of any value to me, I am willing to listen to it, and reward you as I think proper; but I, and I alone, must. be the judge of its importance, and of its value!" Kate was foiled in her plan at the very first step. She had ex- pected to find in Blanche a weak and nervous woman, full of jealous fears, and easily excited. She had found her cold, strong, and bold as herself. Her words rankled in her ears, and an in- stinctive hatred filled her, as she looked upon her, appearing so beautiful in the mirror, before which they both stood in such strong contrast, her own reflection bitterly reminding her of her faded charms. She was ready to sacrifice anything to humble this woman, who stood so threateningly and defiantly before her, dictating i terms for a secret, the knowledge of which should make her bow her proud head in shame. Besides, she was desperate! I Should this resource fail her, what was she to do? Her sole reliance, then, must be the doctor, and she had already seen enough of him to know that she had but little to expect from that quarter. With these feelings in her heart, she once more turned to reply to the words she had just listened to. "I warn you," she commenced, ," that, should I make this secret public, all the consequences which I have described will follow the disclosure. It effects your name as a wife, your reputation as a woman and a mother, your social position-all that, I have no doubt, you prize and hold as sacred!" " "I repeat," Blanche replied, as coldly as ever, "I shall make no promises. If you can satisfy me of the truth of what you say, page: 336-337[View Page 336-337] 336 OUT OF THE STREETS. you will not find me ungenerous; but I must be the sole judge of the importance of your revelation, and shall reserve to myself the right to act as I shall see fit. Now you may proceed with this information, or leave me. Do one or the other at once " The light which blazed in Kate's eyes betrayed the venom with which her soul was filled, as, drawing from her bosom a soiled slip of paper, she glanced over it with a look of malicious satisfaction, and then handed it to Blanche, saying: "Please read that. You will find it quite regular, though per- haps you will not be able to see at first how it concerns you." Blanche took the paper, and, seating herself, read it carefully through from beginning to end, and, laying it down upon the table before her, said: "You are right. I cannot divine how this certificate of mar- riage concerns-me. The names are unfamiliar. Helen Fairly, Richard Norman-who were they? The name of the place even -South Mitchim-is equally strange to me!" "This may throw some light upon the subject," Kate answered, as she took from her bosom a small locket, attached to a gold chain, which, after pressing a spring, which freed the lid and disclosed the picture concealed within, she handed to Mrs. Heaton. Blanche gazed upon the features of the picture for a moment, and then rising, her face as pale as ashes, gasped: "This-this is-the portrait of my husband when we were married! I have its duplicate!" (' That picture," Kate rejoined, going close to her, catching her by the arm, and fairly hissing the words in her ear, " is the por- trait of one Richard Norman, the bridegroom of Helen Fairly, who was still his wife when you were married to Sydney Heaton, on the 19th day of February, 184-." "Is this true?"Blanche exclaimed, in broken accents. "How do you know it? How can you prove it?" "Prove it!"Kate answered slowly and firmly, "I myself took this picture and this certificate -of marriage from the bosom of Helen Fairly, the wife of Richard Norman, or Sydney Heaton, for they are identical, on the morning of February the 20th, 18-, an hour before she died, after giving birth to a son. Did I not say my story, when it should be told, would brand you with shame, and humble your haughty pride? You threatened to call OUT OF THE STREETS. 337 your husband! Ha! ha! Call him now, and see if he will deny the truth of what I say!" Blanche stood for a moment, as if she had been suddenly turned to marble, as white, as breathless, and as motionless, save when her bosom rose and fell in response to the storm which raged within her breast. Then, after gazing once more upon the mini- ature she still held in her hands, she cast it from her, and, with a look of haughty scorn, she exclaimed: "I will take you at your word! I will summon my husband! His lips, and his alone, can convince me that this is true! Not a word until he comes! : She rang the bell, and learning from the servant who answered the summons that Sydney was in the library, she bade him in- form Mr. Heaton that she desired to speak to him. In a few moments, during which not a word was spoken, Syd- ney entered the room. . 6 page: 338-339[View Page 338-339] 338 OUT OF THE STREETS. CHAPTER XLIII. MADAME IS FOILED. "Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes."-SHAKESPEARE. "Wedded, but most miserably single."-MLMAN. As Sydney appeared, his wife rose, and confronting him, she pointed to Kate, saying: "( Sydney Heaton, this woman, whom I do not know, declares that I am not your wife; that you were married to one Helen Fairly before you became my husband, and that she was still liv- ing, and your lawful wife, at the time I was married to you! In proof, she shows me this certificate of marriage, between this Helen Fairly and one Richard Norman, and this miniature, which she declares to be the picture of Helen Fairly's husband. I do not believe her! Tell her, before me, to her face, that this is false, and then turn her into the streets for coming here to frighten me with such a lie.'" During this passionate appeal, Sydney had stood like one ap- palled as by some sudden apparition. As she presented the ob- jects she had spoken of to his gaze, he looked wildly upon them with a sudden glance; and then, when she had finished speaking, fixing for a moment his eyes, with a supplicating expression, upon Blanche, he exclaimed: "At last! at last! God help me, the hour I have feared so long, has come at last!" And, sinking into a chair, he buried his face in his hands, while his whole frame shook convulsively. Kate looked triumphant! This proud woman, whose cutting words had so galled and chafed her, would be humbled now. , The man whom she had thought her husband had confessed that he had deceived her, and she stood there, before her, covered with shame and with dishonor! OUT OF THE STREETS. 339 But, no! Blanche did not speak for some moments, but stood gazing upon Sydney as he crouched at her feet, as it were, strip- ped of the veil which had covered his treacherous villainy so long, with a look of hatred and scorn upon her face which it was almost terrible to see! She was as proud as ever; not one sign of shame or humility was perceptible. Her eyes flashed, her bo- som heaved, her hands twitched convulsively, as if she were about to spring upon the man who had so wronged her, and wreak her vengeance on his life. Then she turned abruptly to Kate and said, as if she were giving a command to a servant: ' "Wait!" She said no more, but taking a seat at the table, she hastily caught up a pen and commenced writing, while Kate stared at her with undisguised astonishment. How much she had mistaken her! Wasthis the woman whom she expected to see fall, covered with shame and confusion of face, at her feet, and implore her, with agonized looks and piteous words, to keep her secret and spare her from dishonor and the scandal of a gossipping and cen- sorious world, and who would load her with jewels and open her coffers to her, as the price of her silence? Instead of doing this, she sat writing on, with a steady and rapid hand. She had finished the note, folded, directed and sealed it, noth- ' ing marking the violent passion which raged within her except her compressed lips, her loud breathing, and the deep throbs which agitated her breast. H She wrote another note, and another, then, rising, she rang the bell, and waited with the notes in her hand until the servant appeared, when, giving them to him, she said: ' "See that these are delivered at once. The moment the per- sons arrive, show them here. Haste!" The servant disappeared, and Blanche once more resumed her H seat, saying to Kate: "You shall have what you have earned. Wait." j Then, fixing her eyes upon the miniature,* which she picked up from the table, where it lay, she placed it in her lap, fixed her eyes upon it, and did not remove them until a knock was heard upon the door. /l page: 340-341[View Page 340-341] 340 OUT OF THE STREETS. Blanche instantly rose and opened it, admittir n old Peter Ma- berly-very pale and feeble now-the Rev. Mr. Softdown, look- ing older than when we saw him last, but fat and sleek, as though his flock had taken good care of its shepherd, and with the same bland and pleasant smile upon his face, which he had worn so long, that it had at last become a fixture, and these two were followed by four other persons, two ladies and two gentlemen, representatives of that Society which was about to be so shame- fully scandalized. Sydney did not move, and Kate looked first at Blanche, and then at the new-comers, with more astonishment and surprise than ever. Blanche led her father to a sofa, and motioned Mr. Softdown to a chair, into which he softly subsided; then turning to the reverend gentleman, she said, calmly: "You are, perhaps, surprised at the sudden and peremptory summons which you have received. You will be more surprised when you hear the occasion of it. I will explain. Years ago, my father selected this man as my husband. We were married in obedience to his wish. Was it not so, father?" 4"Ay, ay!"Peter Maberly replied, in a shrill, treble voice, and half-choking with a dry cough, which interrupted him at every word. "It was done for the best. It was a good match I " , At the time we were married," Blanche continued, "4 he had a wife already, whom he had married under an assumed name, and who died the day after that upon which you pronounced the words which made us, as you supposed, man and wife, in the eyes of heaven and of the world." "Another wife!"Peter exclaimed, rousing to the importance of the occasion. "The thief! The scoundrel! But it can't be true. N'o, no. It can't be true! ' "I have the proof! Look here, and here!"Blanche exclaimed, producing the certificate and locket, and presenting them for the exnmination of all present, while she explained the circumstances as. related to her by Kate. "This woman knows it to be true, and let him deny it if he can or will!" "( I can scarcely think," Mr. Softdown said, mildly, when he had partially recovered from his astonishment, " that this can be pos- sible. Mr. Heaton would never have lent himself to such a gross OUT OF THE STREETS. 341 deception. You can deny this charge, of course, my dear sir, and will!, m "No; 'tis true," Sydney said, rising. "Every word. Heaven help me! The dread of this discovery has hung over me like an incubus for years. I have looked back upon the past with horror and remorse. I have looked forward to the future with agony and fear. I have looked forward to this day, knowing that it would surely come. I have wantonly, cruelly, foully wronged you, Blanche, and I will not, cannot ask you to forgive me. I am ready to submit to any shame, to any punishment! "You hear?" Blanche exclaimed. Father, you hear! You hear all! He confesses! I am not his wife-have never been his wife! I have been his mistress, and the son which I have borne him is a bastard! Rise, Sydney Heaton! Riseall! Icommand She paused till all, in obedience to her firm and imperious tones, had risen to their feet, and stood gazing upon her i aston- ishment, wondering what she meant to say or do And what she did was this: Taking from the table an elegantly bound prayer-book, she presented it to Mr. Softdown, who mechanically received it with his old familiar pat, and then placing herself by Sydney's side, exclaimed, in firm and unwavering tones: a Perform your work once more, and marry me to this man!" All started and looked upon her with surprise, "Why do you look astonished? Blanche asked, scanning the faces of those about her. "This man is free now. He has a right to marry-to marry me--and legally. There is no reason now why this man and this woman should not be joined together, as there was upon that night, so many years ago, when he was asked in your presence if he knew any just cause or impediment which forbade him to pronounce the vows he took upon himself; therefore proceed. If you refuse, I will call in another priest, though I seek one in the public streets, and proclaim to all the world the task I wish him to perform. Proceed, I say! ' Thus urged, the Reverend Mr. Softdown could hesitate no longer, but opening the book in the proper place, commenced the reading of the exordium, and proceeded with the ceremony, as he did when he once before called upon the "'dearly beloved page: 342-343[View Page 342-343] 342 OUT OF THE STRRETS. brethren " to witness the purpose for which that gallant company of the Kings and Queens of Society had gathered in the house of Peter IM[aberly, so many years ago. Blanche made the responses in firm and determined tones, while Sydney answered like a man in a dream, or one whose thoughts were far away. It was concluded at last; the final word was spoken, and the minister declared what "God had joined together no man might put asunder." "You have witnessed the effect of your revelation," Blanche said, as soon as the strange ceremony was over, turning abruptly upon Kate, " and can see now how much I fear the scandal which will follow this rare piece of gossip, when Society shall learn of it. You cannot deny that this man is now my husband, and that I am now his lawfully. wedded wife. To you I owe the honor of being made an honest woman. I promised to reward you in pro- portion to the value I placed upon your information. I will keep my word. You have been the means of making me the wife of a man whose oaths are lies, who soul is black with dishonor, whose heart is the abode of treachery and cowardice, whose whole life has been a living libel on his form. This is what you have done. Your information has brought me to this. What should I give you in reward? Jewels, wealth, all that you came here to bargain for? No; but instead, scorn, contempt, and were you a man, the lash! Now, begone! You have done your work. Go and trumpet your secret to the world, but take care that I am not before hand with you. Your scheme has failed. Begone!" Kate staggered under these words as if they had been each one a blow, and gazed in the face of Blanche as though she could not believe she had heard aright. Then she would have spoken, but Blanche raised her arm and pointed imperiously toward the door. The look cowed even that bold and desperate woman, and she prepared slowly, with abashed face, to leave the room. She sud- denly paused, however, and turning quickly to the table, seized the locket and certificate, and placing them in her bosom, ex- claimed: "These are mine! You forget that Sydney Heaton has a son! These may be useful, yet!" r OUT OF THE -STREETS. 343 She quickly darted out of the room, and left ile nouse more like a maddened beast of prey than a human creature wearing the guise of woman. She had no sooner left than Blanche, turning toward Sydney, who had once more resumed his seat, addressed him in cold and icy words, saying: itBy the mockery which has just been -enacted here, you are how, in fact and in law, my husband! I owed this much, first to myself, whom you deceived, and though I am innocent before heaven, the world shows little charity for one who has violated its customs, and shocked its delicate sensibilities. Society is pitiless! It was due, also, to my son and yours, and to my father, who was the innocent cause of this bitter, this dis- graceful and degrading union. In the eyes of the law we are henceforth recognized as one, but I choose to recognize you as my husband no more. This house is'mine. Leave it, and leave me forever, never to come into my presence again! I have no more to say. My determination is as fixed as the laws of the universe! i will, henceforth, hold no communication with you, or bear your dishonored name! Go!a) Sydney staggered to his feet, and as he raised his head and cast one sad look upon the woman he had wronged, and who had been so pitiless toward him, he seemed to have suddenly become an old and feeble man. He fixed his mournful and tearful eyes upon her; a sigh which seemed to shake his very being burst from his lips, and raising both hands heavenward, he slowly turned from her and tottered from the apartment. Within an hour he had left the house and wandered away-a broken, spiritless wreck of his former self-he cared not whither, for, flee where he would, he could not escape the torture which sprang from. his own thoughts. Like Cain, he went forth alone, feeling, like him, that his pun- ishment was greater than he could bear. Peter Maberly was conveyed home in his carriage, where he was suddenly prostrated by a stroke of paralysis, brought on by the excitement of the sdene. His pushing, and crowding, and elbowing, were forever over, and within a month, Death, who pushes, crowds, and elbows us all into the grave sooner or later, elbowed him out of the world I page: 344-345[View Page 344-345] 344 OUT OF THE STREETS. CHAPTER XLIV. WHAT HAPPENED IN THE HOUSE IN GREAT JONES-STREET. "Yonder's foul murder done."--SHAKESPEARE. KATE PRITCHARD returned to the house in Great Jones-street in a state of mind bordering on insanity. Rage, hate, despair, revenge, and every evil passion, contended for mastery in her heart. Her last hope had failed her. Her beauty was gone. All her attractiveness had fled. She had nothing to look forward to but old age, poverty and want, unless she could succeed in bringing- the doctor to terms; and this, in her desperation, she determined to do. The only person who had known of her former marriage was in his grave. Should she assert her claims as the wife of Doctor Bolton, there were none who could gainsay her words! In this frame of mind, she sought the room which had been assigned to her in the upper part of the house, and patiently waited for his return, which did not occur until quite late in the night. It will be remembered that the apartments he occupied were on the ground floor. He slept in the back room, and occupied the one in front as an office and workshop, where he indulged in his mechanical tastes. Kate waited until she heard him lock and bolt the front door, which he always did before retiring, then stealing noiselessly down- stairs, she found him alone in his room, sitting at a writing-table nearly in the centre of the apartment, and entered so stealthily that he had no knowledge of her presence, until, placing herself opposite to him, she said : "Good-evening, doctor." The doctor started, and, looking up, caught sight of her great OUT OF THE STREETS. 345 eyes, looking larger and more brilliant in contrast with her pale face. "Why do you seek me here? 9 he asked. "I have my quar- terly account to make up. I wish to be alone." "I have come,di she answered, "6 to ask you for the last time to do me justice; to give me my proper, my legitimate place in this house." "And pray, madame," the doctor asked, in return, "what may you consider your proper and legitimate place?" "The, one to which I am entitled by law, and which, unless you concede it to me peaceably, I shall invoke the law to award me-that of your wife!" The doctor did not deign to reply, but turned away- from her with a bitter sneer, and went on with his writing. Could he have seen the fiendish look of malice whicn stole over her face at that momnent, he would have never assumed such a look of careless disregard for her, nor would he have refused to answer her when she again asked: "Will you acknowledge me as your wife or not? A He maintained a dogged silence, and kept on writing, while she, with one hand behind her, which she kept constantly in motion, as if she held something there that she was twisting or spasmodically clutching, looked at him with compressed lips and frowning brow. "I am a desperate woman to-night, Doctor Bolton!"' she con- tinued, after a pause; "I have come to demand my rights! If you grant them, you shall never have cause to regret it; if you refuse, I tell you plainly, to beware of me! I shall await your answer!" "You have it already," he replied, without looking up. "I have none other to make. Leave me!" "You will think better of it presently," she said. "Never! "You had better!" "I do not fear your threats! "No?" "No!" "I have told you I am desperate to-night! ' "And I am determined. I have seen my lawyers to-day. If page: 346-347[View Page 346-347] 346 OUT OF THE -STREETS. you annoy me further, I shall act upon their advice, and have you arrested. I have made up my mind!" She stood and watched him for a moment as he said this; and then, without replying, she turned, away to another part of the room, changing, as she did so, the position of the hand she had formerly held behind her, to the front, and still kept moving it in that same restless and spasmodic manner. She stopped when she had reached the corner nearest the door, and stood in the shadow as motionless as a figure of wood or stone. The doctor continued his writing. The sound of his pen pass- ing swiftly over the paper was the only sound which could have been heard; as for Kate, she scarcely breathed, but stood glaring upon the man who sat opposite to her, seemingly unconscious of her presence. What were the thoughts which filled her mind and made her press her lips so closely together that they seemed to be as blood- less and as rigid as marble? This one thought only! "If he will not acknowledge me to be his wife, the world will not deny my claims as his widow." She thought this again and again, and it was a thought full of danger to him, but he still wrote on in ignorance of it. At last he ceased writing, and, laying down his pen, he leaned back in his chair, placing his hands behind his head, and giving himself up to reflection, utterly unconscious of her presence. He does not see that the dark figure behind him moves, like a shadow, slowly from its place, and creeps, cat-like and noiselessly, toward him, and that something which it holds in its hands quivers and blazes fitfully in the gaslight which occasionally falls upon it. He takes no heed of this; nor does he know that now the figure with the white face and glowing eyes stands, like his fate, so close behind him that, should he move a single inch, he could not avoid touching her. He does not see that glittering blade, raised over him with a- firm hand, until another hand as firmly grips him by the beard, and forces his head back, and then it is too late, for the shining steel descends swiftly, flashes before his eyes like lightning, and the next moment lies buried in his breast! OUT OF THE STREETS. -347 Clutching the hand which holds him, he rises to his feet and grapples with his murderess, but she is too quick for him, and again the keen knife pierces his flesh, and the blood spurts'out in a dark purple stream, even to the very wall. - Now he breaks away from her, and she pursues him: Again and again she plunges the keen knife into lhis flesh, her trailing silk dress smearing the blood upon the wall into long red streaks as she follows her victim round and round the room, until he falls-when, bending over him, she strikes repeatedly, till her arm tires, and she can strike no more! She still kneels over him, panting for breath, and watching to see if any spark of life remains, ready, with uplifted, bloody hand,.to quench it if it does! She places her hand upon his heart! It beats no more! He is dead at last-quite dead--she feels assured of it; and then she rises, leaving the murdered man, stark and pale, upon the floor, the gaslight shining in his ghastly face! Stealthily she leaves the room, unbolts and unlocks the front door, and seeks her own apartment. She spends -the night in obliterating all marks and traces of the horrid deed, and retires to bed, to be aroused in fright from a seeming sound sleep by the dread cry of "Murder" in the house. page: 348-349[View Page 348-349] 348 OUT OF 'EU STiREETS. CHAPTER XLV.- IN WHCH KATE PRITCHARD FINDS HER REWARD, AND HAIRRY HEARS OF SOMETHNG TO HS ADVANTAGE. CAPTAIN LEOPARD, in the performance of his duty, was early the following morning at the house in Great Jones-street, which was already besieged by a crowd of curious and horror-stricken people, whom the news of the murder had attracted thither. After taking a careful survey of the room in which the fearful occurrence had taken place, and sending for the coroner, Leopard sought an interview with Kate, who wasi in her own room, whither she had retired in great distress, subsequently to satisfy- ing herself, as she declared, that the horrid tale the servants hadl brought her was true. She had no idea that any suspicion would attach to herself, and had laid out her course in pursuance of the plan she had formed, of proclaiming herself the wife of the murdered man. Leopard found her apparently overwhelmed with grief, and bit- terly lamenting the cruel act which had deprived her of so good and so kind a husband, and she appealed to the officer to leave nothing undone to bring the, murderer to justice. "Of that'you may rest assured," Leopard replied. "I have already made some progress, and established in my own mind one very important fact!" He Indeed!"Kate exclaimed. "Yes," Leopard continued, i I have discovered that the mur- der was committed by a woman."9 Kate looked at the officer with a startled air, but suppressing her emotions, said, as calmly as she could:- "A woman! Why do you think a woman did it?" "I have several reasons for my bAlief," Leopard answered. "I will state one. The blood upon the walls and washboard is smeared over by the skirts of a woman's dress. There are other OUT OF THE STREETS. 349 indications, all pointing to a woman's hand, but this is sufficient for the present. Where is the dress you wore last night? Do "What do you mean?5 "Kate exclaimed, with an indignant air. "You do not dare to suspect me? ' "I said nothing of suspicions. I merely asked to see the dress you wore last night. Of course you will have no objection to my seeing it?" "It was a black dress, and hangs in yonder closet, with the rest of my wardrobe,": she replied; " but I can see no reason why you should make such an inquiry.' "6 Perhaps not. Will you give me the key of that closet? I see it is locked." "Certainly, if you insist upon it; but I must protest against this extraordinary conduct. I am the wife, or rather, I should say the widow of Doctor. Bolton, and to make su6h a demand as you have, when I am, as you see, nearly heart-broken with grief, is terrible! "May I be permitted to ask when you returned to the city? Am Leopard asked, paying no attention to her words or the tears which flowed copiously from her eyes. "'I have not had the pleasure of seeing y6u--but once-since that little affair .of the daimonds, which, perhaps, has not escaped your memory. I learned from the broker with whom you pawned them all the particulars of that notable business, and how generously your husband, as you claim him to have been, behaved on that occa- sion; but that is past now. The last time I saw you we took a little excursion into Cherry-street together, and you gave me some valuable information concerning one Jack Wilson, or Jack of the Gluch, as he was called. You thought I did not know you, but you were mistaken, for I saw through your disguise, ex- cellent as it was. Those eyes of yours are too bright and too peculiar, ever to be mistaken. Yoi disappeared shortly after that,' and it was not until yesterday that I heard of your return, when Narr & Chambers, the doctor's lawyer, informed me of it, as well as of your former marriage aind of the manner in which you had behaved, and the threats you had made. I am sorry to cause you any inconvenience, but I must ask you to leave this house, which must be very unpleasant to you, and come with me." Kate had sat perfectly aghast while the officer was addressing page: 350-351[View Page 350-351] 350 OUT OF THE STREETS. her thus, and when he had filnished, she asked, in great agitation: "Where would you take me!" "Before a magistrate," Leopard -replied; then rising and placing his hand upon her shoulder, he said: "Kate Pritchard, alias iMrs. Rowlston, I arrest you for the murder of Doctor Bol- ton!" She turned pale as death, and shrunk away from his touch, ex- claiming: "Arrest me! I murder my husband! You are mad!" ( I have no time to waste ill words,"l he answered. "If you have any preparations to make, make them at once, for you must go with me immediately." In vain she wept and grew indignant. Her tears, her threats, her imprecations, and her supplications were alike thrown away upon the imperturbable officer; so, taking with her such articles as she required, she shortly after left the house in a carriage with Captain Leopard, and was safely locked up in the Tombs. Having seen this accomplished, Leopard ordered the matron to have her searched, which was accordingly done, and resulted in the finding of the locket and certificate of marriage which she had kept so long in her possession. The same afternoon Leopard paid a visit to Dick Watkins, whom he found in a sailor boarding-house in Water-street, and with whom he had a conversation, in the course of which he put the outlaw in possession of all the facts connected with the mur- der, and the arrest of Kate. "Then she has got to the end of her rope at last!" Dick ex- claimed. "I always thought she'd fetch up with a round turn some day I She was smart, but the smartest of us get nipped in the end!" After satisfying Dick's curiosity to the fullest extent, and e- allowing him to give vent to all the feelings which the occurrence excited in him, the captain produced the locket and certificate. "6 Burn me!"Dick exclaimed, as the sight of these articles met his astonished eyes, " if them ain't the very things that's been the cause of all the fuss! It was because she wanted to use them in her own way, that she went back on me and put you on my track. So she stuck to 'em to the end? '? "Are these the proofs you told me of?"Leopard asked. OUT OF TITE STREETS. 351 "Them's them, sure enough," Dick answered. "She took them from young Harry's mother before she died." , Then," Leopard observed, " there is nothing to be done except to put him in possession of these proofs, and for you to make a clean breast of it, and tell the young man the whole truth. On condition of your doing so, I promise to wink at your presence here, and allow you to go away unmolested.- "I'll have to do as you say, I reckon," Dick answered, after a pause. "The game is blocked. The secret is out, and as I never had any spite agin the chap, and only wanted to play, him in the game for what I thought he was worth, I'll do it. Bring him here and I'll tell him all I know; but remember, cap'n, bygones is to be bygones, and no after-claps!" "You have my word, as well as his, that you shall not he troubled," Leopard answered; " and if you keep your faith, I shall keep mine." "All right," Dick answered; "I reckon you'll deal square." Within two hours, Leopard returned, accompanied by Harry and Peter Pivot, to whom Dick related in full the story of his connection with Sydney Heaton, under the assumed name of Richard Norman, concluding as follows: "I'd know'd him a good spell, and he had been out with me-in my boat a good many times before he gin me any idea of what he was up to. At last, one day, when we were fishing out to sea, after a good many hints, and pumping me pretty iwell, to see if I was all sound, he told me what he wanted to do, and promised to pay me well if I would help him. I agreed, and a day was fixed for carrying out the plan. When it came, it seemed as if his wife kind o' mistrusted that something was wrong, for she took on dreadful, and he would a' backed out, I think, if it hadn't been for me; I got him away, and we' started ou to sea in my boat; and as soon as we got outside o' the inlet, I laid our course right for the track of the Portland lumbermen. Just about noon, we Sighted one bearing down on us; and as there was a pretty stiff breeze blowing, I managed, without much trouble, to capsize the boat, and we got upon the bottom and made signals to the lumberman, who saw us and took us off. We gin 'em false names, and cooked up a story to suit our purpose, and the captain aoreed to take us to Boston, where he was bound. Here Mr. Norman page: 352-353[View Page 352-353] 352 OUT OF THE STRRETS, left me, and went on to New York. I found out, in a week or two, that oWr plan had worked, and that the folks in South A[itch- im thought him and me had both been drowned at sea. Then I went on to New York, and, gitting my pay, and something besides, I started for California, where I staid for a good bit, but finally came back to New York, and found that Richard Norman was no other than Sydney Heaton, who was married to another woman. I found out, too, through Kate, all about the death of his first wife and the birth of his child. I had everything set to turn the secret to account, when, as you know, cap'n, Kate peached on me, and I was nabbed and sent back to California." Harry listened to this revelation with intense interest, his heart filled with the most sorrowful emotions. "Alas, my-wronged and cruelly-deceived mother!"5 he ex- claimed, as Dick finished, " what suffering and sorrow you en- dured! -Heaven forgive those Fwho wronged you, and brought such misery upon your head!" "I don't know how it's been with him,9 Dick said; "( but I know I ain't had nothing but bad luck since. I'm sorry I did it, and I'm glad I've made a clean breast of it."' "And to think," Harry exclaimed, "(that it was my own grandfather and my brother who plotted against my honor and my life!" "If h5anybody 'ad told me such a thing, I should lave set him down for a lunatic,'"Pivot exclaimed. "Well, this hMis a stag- gerer! I shall never 'ear anythink like it again-no, not if I live to be an 'undred years h'old, and get to be a regular centurion.': "I had already learned enough,"' Leopard observed, " to feel sure that, in advising you not to proceed against Samuel lIeaton and young Maberly, I was doing that which you would thank me for when you came to a full knowledge of the truth." "I do,5 Harry responded, taking Leopard's hand; "I am in- debted to you far more than I can express. H:eaven is just, and( to heaven I leave the punishment of those who would have done me such a cruel wrong." Taking the certificate of his mother's marriage and the minia- ture of his father with him, Harry left Dick and the officer, in company with Peter, and proceeded to the house of the worthy undertaker, where they spent the remainder of the day in discuss- OUT OF THE STREETS. 353 ing the strange intelligence they had heard, and laying out plans for the future. Harry resolved to keep the story of his parentage a secret for the present, until he should learn further from the mysterious advertisement, which Peter was very sanguine would result in something which would alter his prospects in life. He spent the evening with Agnes, and, in the interchange of mutual love and confidence, and in conjuring up bright dreams of the future, the two lovers forgot all their past sorrows, and remembered only their present happiness. Peter lost no time in informing Mr. Abner Snaggs of the events which we have described; and that sturdy craft, the Two Har- riets-Bunce, master-being on the eve of sailing for New York with an assorted cargo of shingles, onions, and other "sass," he put himself on board of her, and in due time arrived in the city. He called upon Peter immediately, and, being introduced to Harry, whom he had not seen for some time, expressed, in his homely way, the warmest sympathy in his past sorrows, and his heartiest congratulations upon having penetrated the mystery of his birth. "I suppose you ain't got any money, hev you?" he asked, after listening to all Peter and Harry had to tell him. "No," Harry answered; " but I hope to be able to find employn- ment soon, and if I once get an opening, I have no fears for t,.o future. The cloud has been removed from my name; I have , stout heart, a willing hand, integrity of purpose, and such induce- msents to exertion as men rarely have; so that I feel assured of success!" "Many a man," Mr. Snaggs replied, slowly, a, has built up a forten' on a smaller capital than that; but a leetle money don't hurt none. The best machinery in the world goes glibber when it's iled; and if a man has got dollars in his pocket, it makes him pearter and bolder.:' "That's quite right," Peter observed. "If a man 'as money, it's h'all the better, it makes his h'up-'ill work h'easier; but, if he wasn't got 1lally, why, he must do the best he can without it; and that's what 'Arry must do until he comes into his h'English fortune.:- "Ile's got m oney now,"' Abner answered. page: 354-355[View Page 354-355] 354 OUT OF THE STREETS. "I'm sure I should like to know, where? Harry asked, laugh- ing. "Yes; where is it?"Peter asked. "Come, tell us that, if you can. If you can find any money as belongs to him, you must be either a witch or a gizzard!" ( You mean a wizard, Peter, don't you?"Harry asked, laugh- ing at Peter's mistake. "To be sure! What a h'ass h'I h'am! A wizard is a man- witch, and a gizzard is something h'inside of a goose. I s'pose I've got a gizzard! But that's neither 'ere or there; if 'Arry has got money, tell us where it is!" ( Maybe you've a kind o' forgot about that air hundred dollars that was sent up to South Mitchim, just after poor Mrs. Norman -or Mrs. Heaton, I s'pose we ought to call her now-went away from the place." "To be sure! what a 'ed I've'got! I 'ad forgotten all about it. We put it in the savings bank. To be sure! and it's there yet, interest and all! It has grown to be a tidy sum by this time-quite a little capital." "No, it ain't in the bank. I drew it out!"Abner answered, whittling a match with his jackknife. "You see, I'll tell you how it was. One day when I was at York, I heard o' some lots-way up town then they was-that was going to be sold, and folks talked so much about the speculation there was in-'em, that I thought I'd go in and buy one or two on 'em, just to try. Well, on the day o' the sale, I was short of money to pay on 'em-about a hundred dollars--so I drew that 'ere money outer the bank, and made up the amount wanted; and so, you see, I kind o' made the boy a partner like' in the speculation. If it turned out bad, I knew I could make his money good, and if it turned out good, why, it would be better than a savings bank. Well, you see, it turned out good-better'n I expected. I sold the lots at a big advance, and bought some more with the money, keeping the boy's money in all the time, and a spell ago when I was down- that's a year sence-I sold the others at a big rise, and put- his share o' the money in the Bank of' South Mitchim, meaning to give it to him some day when he could make good use on it. So when I got your letter, telling me of what had happened, I consulted, with Mrs. Snaggs, and Captain Bunce, and Tom Bixby, OUT OF THE STREETS. 355 and his wife Poebe, anid we kind o' came to the conclusion that if he had the money now, it would give him a start; and so, you see, I drew it outer the bank, and here it is, interest and all. Three thousand four hundred and sixty-two dollars and seventy- eight cents! ars and seventy- With this, Mr. Abner Snaggs, after sundry unpinnings and unbuttonings, drew from the inside pocket of his waistcoat a bulky wallet, from which he took out a quantity of. bills and some odd change, and laid the whole of i down uponhe sayng "Count it! e table, saying To describe the delight and excitement of Peter, the thankful- hess and surprise of Harry, or the intense satisfaction 'of the hon- est Mr. Snaggs, were impossible. At first, Harry refused to take any of the money, except the original 'hundred dollars, and the interest which would have ac- cumlated upon it in the savings bank; but at this Mr. Snaggs became highly offended, and declared that he would be durned if he'd touch a cent of it," and actually got up to rush out of the room, to stop any further objections; so that, in order to get him back, Harry was at last fain to accept it 'whereupon Mr. Snaggs became easier in his mind, and consented to remain and take a glass of his favorite beverage, some cider, with just a flavor of rum in it, whichPeter prepared for him as soon as the materials could be procured, Peter not numbering those inspiring fiuids am-ong his stock for home consumption. o--e --nsumption. page: 356-357[View Page 356-357] 356 OUT QF THE STREETS. CH APTER XLVI. CONCLUSION. "Tnus ends this strange eventful history."--EHAKESlPEARE. NOTWITHSTANDING all that he had heard, Harry could not re- press the strong natural desire which he felt to make himself known to his father. He had sdught out Dick several times, and gathered from him further particulars concerning Sydney Hea- ton; of the remorse he had expressed when he heard of the death of his wife, and the terrible circumstances under which it had occurred; of his joy at hearing of the existence of his son, and the efforts he had made to obtain possession of him in order that he nmight make some atonement for the wrong he had done her. The news of the separation between Sydney Heaton and Blanche had got abroad. It was the common gossip of the town, and Harry heard his father's circumstances discussed everywhere he went. Somrre laughed; some sneered, some attributed the sep- aration to his failure, which had entirely ruined him, others looked wise and mysterious, and pretended to know more than they cared to tell; but none pitied aim, none spoke kindly of him, none sympathized with him; r and therefore Harry determined to seek tan interview with his father, hoping that, in the assurance that lie would give him of his forgiveness and his sympathy, he would find some grain of comfort in the midst of all his sorrow. But on making inquiries for Sydney -eaton, Harry found that he had left the city, aid had gone no one knew whither. ie had told no one of his intentions, but had suddenly disappeared, tak- ing nothing with him-not even clothing for a journey. Some of the papers, which had published exaggerated andl garbled reports of the rumors which were afloat concerning him, spoke of his disappearance, and evenl ventured upon the predic- tion that he had committed suicide. This caused Harry much pain and anxiety, and he spared no exertions to solve the mystery which surrounded the fate of his newly-foulcl parent. In the emergency, he called in the assis- tance of Captain Leopard; but the case was beyond the ken of that astute officer even, and nothing came of the strict search and investigation which he caused to be made. Thus more than a month passed, during which time Harry had related his story to Mrs. Foulk Loxley, and had so far aroused OUT OF THE STREETS. 357 her sympathy and good feeling that she had, after much hesita- tion, at last yielded to the importunities of the lovers, and con- sented to their union, provided that Harry's social position should be established, and that his prospects in life were of a character to warrant such a step. One day Peter came to Harry in great excitement. He had received from Narr & Chambers an answer to their letter, by which it appeared that one John Fairly, the. brother of Helen Fairly's father, had emigrated to Australia many years before, and had died there, without having married, leaving a large amount of money and landed property in England to Jaames Fairly and his wife, who, being both dead, and Helen Fairly be- ing their sole child, had become heir to this property, which, in case of her death, would go to her issue. The letter closed with a request that full particulars of her marriage and death, and of the birth of her child, should be sent at once. "There!" Peter exclaimed, after Harry had read the letter. "What did I tell you? Didn't I say you'd be a millionhair? Come along! Get the certificate of marriage, and come along to Narr & Chambers's." Harry needed no urging. They had a long interview with Narr & Chambers, who assured them that it was necessary for them to send one of their people to South Mitchim, for the pur- pose of taking further evidence concerning the marriage, and such other proofs touching the indentity of Mary Wright with the true Helen Fairly as would be required before Harty's claims could be established. No time was to be lost, and Harry set out, accompanied by Peter and one of Narr & Chambers's clerks, for South Mitchim the next day, where Mr. Snaggs received them with a warm wel- come, and every manifestation of pleasure. The people of South 1!Mitcliim were delighted to see the son-of Helen Fairly, and it made Harry. exceedingly happy to hear the affectionate and enthusiastic manner in which they spoke of his mother, who had been loved and esteemed by every one in the little villagoe. They showed him her grave beneath the elms in the-pretty church-yard. It had been carefully kept. Roses and woodbine had been planted upon it, and a neat headstone, bearing the name of Helen Norman, marked the spot. Harry visited the grave every day, and shed many a bitter tear as he remembered how her young hopes had been blighted, and how much and how terribly she had suffered. The business which had brought them to the place was nearly finished, the proofs were thoroughly satisfactory. Some papers, which Mrs. Norman, as they still called her, had left behind her, which Phceble Bixby had kept as souvenirs, and some letters which had been written by her parents from England, proved page: 358-359[View Page 358-359] 358 OUT OF THE STREETS. her to have been the Helen Fairly whom the English Solicitors were in search of, and the evidence gathered was of such a char- icter that no doubt could possibly arise as to her right. This having been happily accomplished, it was settled that bhey should leave for New York on the following morning, and bhat the last evening of their stay in South Mitchim should be spent with Mr. and Mrs. Snaggs, who had invited the entire vil- Lage to meet them. The evening passed off delightfully. Everybody admired Har- ry-particularly the young ladies, the grown-up daughters of the same who, years ago, had been so disappointed at the sudden marriage of Richard Norman-and who now thought that young Harry was even handsomer than his father, to whom he bore a strong resemblance! After bidding his-kind host good-night, and many handshak- ings with everybody, and promises to visit South Mitchim again, Tarry took his leave, and allowing Peter to make his way back bo the hotel by himself, he kept on his way toward the church- yard where his mother lay. It was a clear, bright night in autumn; the moon, nearly at her full, cast a pale, soft light upon the lovely landscape, and the Far-off moaning of the sea, chafing upon the beach, made a soft music which fell in melancholy cadence upon the ear. His heart full of quiet joy at the thought of the speedy realiza- Lion of all his dreams of happiness through his union with Agnes, and the great change which had come over his life, which had begun in such misery and desolation; thinking of her who had slept so long and calmly there, and wondering whether her gentle spirit hovered near him and partook of his joy and peace of , mind, Harry reached the church, and passing through the little wicket at the side, entered the graveyard, and made his way toward the sheltered nook, where kind and thoughtful hands had made his mother's grave. As he approached the spot, he thought he saw something-mov- ing in the shadow which fell upon the grassy mound. He paused and watched a moment. Then he thought-he heard a low moan, as of some one in great mental agony, and a moment afterward a figure raised itself up from its prostrate, position on the grave, and lifting its pale face, upon which the moonbeams fell as they came streaming through the branches of the trees, and stretching its arms toward heaven, exclaimed in piteous ac- cents, broken by sobs: Is there no peace, no forgiveness? Is my sin unpardonable? My punishment has been long and terrible! I have repented in bitterness of soul and many tears! Pardon, just heaven, pardon! Oh, give this breaking heart one ray of hope, one thought of peace!" Harry's heart throbbed with strong emotion as he listened to OUT OF TiE STREETS. 3 359 these strange words, betraying the hopeless misery of him who spoke them, and he gazed upon the features of that pale, sad foae turned upward to the sky. He was awed and made speechless by the startling scene. For a moment the figure bowed its head upon its breast, and gave way to a flood of tears; then, again raising that impressie and woeful face to heaven, those sorrowful tones once more broke the silence:more bro "If, from thy bright home above, thou canst see me here at the grave where stranger hands have laid thee, and canst know the agony and remorse the remembrance of the great wrong I did thee has brought upon my sinful heart, thy gentle soul, so pure, so full of goodness, will pity me I drove thee forth an ouure and a wanderer. e-hold me here, driven from the wodld, cut off from every human tie, bereft of every hope, an outcast from my kind, no refuge but thy grave, seeki nly death to brig relief duro my misery and Woe! What thou hast suffered I en- mercy, oh heaven and send me one blest hope of par son;f Harry e culd hear no more. With streaming eyes and yearn- ing heart h bounded to the side of him who knelt and prayed. e seized him in his youn and powerful ars, and raised him to his feet. The man started, and struggling to free himself, turned toward him and exclaimed, in hoarse but firm and decided tones: "Begone Why do you intrude upon me here? This spot is sacred! Begone, and leave me with my dead. I do not consort with the living!", Then, gazlng in Hrry's face, upon which the bright beams of the moon were falling, he suddenly broke away from him, and starting back, gasped out, "Ah, that face! Those eyes! That pite- ous look of love and sympathy! Great heaven!1 what is this?'P "Heaven has heard your prayer, and has sent me to comfort you-to say your are forgiven-punishment is past fr "Who are you?" "The son of her whose body sleeps beneath our feet, but whose spiri looks down upon us now, and brings content and peace to both our hearts 'n. "Her son! her son P"Sydney exclaimed, for he it was. "Then you are--- The child of Helen Fairly and Sydney Heaton. I am your "My son! And you know all, and yet----" "I am your son; and, knowing all, I pardon all " "iThen heaven has pardoned, too!"Sydney exclaimed. "Has mouchsafed me mercy, and restored to me my son!" In a moment they were in each other's arms; and there, upon hat lovely autumuia night, above that grassy grave, beneath the page: 360-361[View Page 360-361] 360 OUT OF THE STREETS. elms, father and son poured out their souls to one another, and there the gentle hand of Peace first soothed the stricken heart of him who had deeply sinned, yet had so bitterly repented. Late in the night, they left the grave together, and the next day, Sydney returned with Harry and Peter to NeQv York. Bat little more remains to be told. The proofs which Harry had. obtained clearly established his title to the property of his mother. Kate Pritchard was tried for the murder of Doctor Bol- ton, found guilty, and sentenced to death, but committed suicide in her cell three days before the time fixed for her execution. Dick Watkins shipped on board of a man-of-war, and was killed, fighting desperately, at the capture of New Orleans, during the civil war. Nothing was heard of MLaberly Heaton for some time, and it was then discovered that he had been killed in a drunken brawl, in a gambling-hell in New Orleans. Blanche Maberly, as she ever after called herself, came into possession of all her fa- ther's property, and went to Europe, where she still resides, mostly in Paris, where she is known as L ( fiche Vewe Americaine. Samuel Hezton still operates in Wall-street, his time and genius being mostly occupied in what is known as "flying kites," at which he is quite an expert. Harry and Aagnos were married quietly, no one being present i but Mr. Snaggs and Peter Pivot, who gave away the bride; and the same day, Hi-rry and his fair wife sailed for England, accom- panied by Sydney and Mrs. Loxley. Harry came into possession of a large property, and shortly after returned to America, and purchased the old Loxley estate of Lin- denwilde, where he took up his abode, Sydney remaining with him. Peter Pivot still lives, a prosperous man, with new olive branches growing up around him every year, and thinks of giv- ing up the undertaking business and opening a fashionable mourning store, as he is of the opinion that "'aberdashery is more 'congenital' to his tastes than h'undertaking.' Oft upon a summer's afternoon, at Lindenwilde, within the little rustic arbor where Harry first surprised the Lady Agnes, and his heart kindled with the love her beauty then inspired, and which her purity and goodness ever after fanned and nurtured, a happy group is gathered. One of them-is a man still tall and handsome, but whose hair is gray, and in whose face one may read the traces which passion and deep sorrow have left behind them. I[e holds a laughing cherub on his knee, and tells her little stories woven from his fancy, while beside them stand a hap- py pair-Agnes and Harry--who, looking with loving eyes upon the new "Lady Agnes,i' compares his present happiness with the sorrow of the past; and turning to his angel wife, breathes, in a sigh of joy, his thanks to Him who, through such devious and such hidden ways, has led him to this blessed haven, OUT OF THE STREETS.
