The battle of hate, or, Hearts are trumps
page: (TitlePage) [View Page (TitlePage) ]THE BATTLE OF HATE ; OB, HEARTS ARE TRUMPS. BY NED BUNTLINE. NEW YORK: FREDERIC A. BRADY, PUBLISHER, No. 22 ANN STREET. page: 0-3[View Page 0-3] ENTEBD according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, BY CAULDWLL & WHNEY, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern Distriot of New York; THE BATTLE OF HATE:, oB, - CHAPTER I. THE OATH "Eternal Master of all passions-of bound- less love as well as of endless hate-archi- tect of fortune and arbiter of misfortune, hear me, hear my vow of vengeance I "Although I sleep, may sleep give me no peace, until I have so laden the soul of Louise Lorraine with agony, so tortured her body with misery, that she will pray for the relief of death! May she seek death as her last, best friend, and even then be denied the com- fort of dying! May she in her bitter woe curse the hour which gave her birth, the mother who bore Ther, the father who once idolized her, even as I, fool that I am, have dene I May her dreams be dreams of hell, her brightest hopes be bubbles in the air! "She now smiles in triumph over my misery, but hear me Heaven. and hear me Earth, hear me angels and hear me fiends. I swear to fill sorrow's darkest cup even to the brim, and she, she shall swallow it I have sworn her utter ruin, and may I know no rest, no peace, until it is wrought I She tow is loftily enthroned, but she must fall, and all who cling to her shall fall as she falls! It is sworn and it shall be fulfilled!" These words were uttered by a young man, who paced wildly to and fro in an apartment furnished in a style that betokened both taste and wealth in the occupant. He seemed to be twenty-five or thirty years of age-nobly- featured,.with eyes of [deep, passionate blue; hair of a glossy brown; but his fine face, though convulsed with grief or passion, was pale as new-fallen snow. 'His appearance and dress both gave token of his belonging to the first class of society. Again his wild words found utterance: "She-the child of chance, beautiful as an angel, alluring even as she is false-led me on in her train, until I was hers in heart and (, -, soul, until my life knew no other light, until all else in the. world was worthless to me; and then, when I laid name, and heart, and fortune at her feet, she spurned them from her; and when with tears-yes, weak, wom- anly tears--I urged my suit and pitifully told her if she cast me off I should die, she smiled and said, men never died for love. , "As for my love, she 'could not return it, for she loved another, if she loved .at all I And yet, until that hour, she had smiled whene'er she saw me, listened to many a tender word from my lips, returned the hot pressure of my hand, given me sigh for sigh, and fed my hope, until it believed itself im mortal I Oh, it was madness, the love I felt 'for her And now it is hate! I can, and do, and will curse her! I have sworn her ruin, , and I will achieve it. Never shall the mock- ing world say that Anson Demarest was jilted by a woman, and then lived without revenge. I have fortune in my hands, but no joy will e'er be mine now, which is not sorrow unto her I Smile on while yet you can, fair Louise Lorraine-the clouds are gathering which shall darken your path in ife forever!" The young man paused in his words as he stopped before a mirror, which reflected his tall and stately figure. He looked at himself from head to foot, and 'smiled in a cold, sar- castic way. "If I am not handsome, I am not a beast, to terrify a woman! Others say few in' so- ciety excel me in, looks. In accomplish- ments, where am I at fault? At college, I j bore off the first honors. My pen has found room in the first periodicals of the day, and she has praised the efforts, put forth oyly to win her praise. Among my class, with the sword, in the saddle, or even in the dance, I have found no master, few who claimed to equal me! In what, then, which makes man page: 4-5[View Page 4-5] attractive, has she found' me wanting? I would not stoop so low as to ask her that; she says if she loves at all she loves another That 'if' i the thing which bothers me. If she does love another, and I ca possibly compass it, that other must die. That will be one sorrow for her. She is now rich; her mother is, at least, and she is her only heir. That wealth must be taken from them-thev must go down into poverty to labor, and even worse, into shame if possible; and if not into shame, into starvation. She and her mother mourn the long absent father as dead --most likely he is. But I will make her think he lives to hate her in her infamy. Oh bitter bitter will be that woe, for often has she told me how he loved and petted her, before he went upon the voyage' from which he never has returned! Woe upon woe grief upon grief wrong upon wrong, all thse shall be hers "' The young man again resumed his walk, and with a firmer and more steady step paced the room. Pausing before a marble-topped table, he opened a small box, and took from it a golden locket. Touching the spring, the case flew open and revealed the miniature likeness, painted most delicately on ivory, of a young female. 'Loveliness, complete love- liness was almost too tame a word to use, if the original was as beautiful as the picture. Features of Grecian mold; eyes of that dark hazel which, when shaded by the silk- en lash-vail, seem black, and laugh in their i light like jewels supremely bright; complex- r ion so mmgled with the lily and the rose that the mingling lines cannot be seen; a mass of waving curls almost as dark as night c above a white brow, and down the graceful d neck, and over the faultless shoulders.. Oh, it was a superb picture of beauty which was a faultless. Sternly and sadly he gazed upon it for a e few moments, and then raised his hand, as if c he intended to dash it against the wall. But t] he did not. "I will not destroy it!" he muttered. ,I it will keep it until the glorious beauty of sl Louise Lorraine is. blotted out entirely, until tl by dissipation or by some cursed art she has n become so hideous that she will not dare to c] look upon her own face in a mirror, and ox then I will show her what she once was. Ah, that will be vengeance, vengeance indeed!, i Anson Demarest, you can plan well, be it q now your study to execute!" Alld he closed the locket, and replacing it sa in the ebony box upon the table, locked it carefully, and put the key in his pocket. Si And again the young man communed with himself as' he resumed his walk to and fro in at the room. "If she ' loves at all she loves another' tu I Whocan'that otner be? Among all her ad. t; mirers, there has not been one so much fa-. r! vored as myself -in outward appearance. If Henry Vaughan was the likeliest of them all, ly and he was discarded weeks ago: He sought Ii refuge from his despair by marrin the er pretty daughter of his own tailor. Iremem. r. her well how Louise Lorraine laughed when y I told her of it. She did not love him. I d know no one of the hundred who dangle in if her train whom she has seemed to favor as Fr she would favor one she loved. I, poor fool! d seemed the only one that stood fair in her r heart's estimation. Bah She has no heart. I h alone was accepted as her escort to the op era. At the last regatta, a dozen yachtmen r, sought the honor of her company on the wa- h ter. I alone could persuade her to be my , ocean-queen for the occasion. Who can s that other be?. Ah, a thought strikes me. It was Louise Lorraine who pleaded-with me to get that tall, thin, romantic, ale-faced, Han- let-looking fellow, Edward Sherman, into a I situation. She told me a story about his be- "ng a reduced gentleman; that his widowed mother and young sister were dependent up- on him for support; that his sister ahd fmother, who had been reared in affluence, were now making shirts for a living, and that he barely existed and gained a precari- ous amount by getting law-copying to do. She so wrought upon my feelings, that I asked. her to send the fellow to me, and I would do all I could for him. I took him to my uncle, Robert Wedgewood, who is the heaviest merchant. on South street, and whose Ships dot every sea. My uncle had a clerkship open, with a salary of twelve hun- died a year, and agreed to take the young man on trial upon my recommendation; and if he suited, to keep him in the place of one who had been so unlucky as to go dead, or, in po- etical parlance, had shuffled off this mortal coil'. He took that position a week ago- the fellow Sherman did; a week's trial was to decide whether he'would suit or not. Can it be him that this foul enchantress loves, if she loves any one? If it is, her love will be the worst curse he ever had, for it will be his 'ruin! I have sworn that she and all who cling to her shall fall. And I will keep my oath!" A knock at the door of his apartment broke in upon his soliloquy, and Demarest turned quickly and bade the knocker enter. A servant came in, and, presenting a card, said : "The gentleman is waiting to see you, Sir." " Ah, Mr. Edward Sherman. Show him up at once," said Demarest. "'Thin k of the devil, and he is sure to. turn up', says the old adage," said the young man, after the servant had gone out. "Now I will pump out this secret, if there is a se- cret love in the case; and if Mr., Edward Sherman is the ' other' whom Miss Lorraine has hinted at, he will not keep his place long. A moment later, and the visitor entered. He was, in looks at least, a person whom any woman could have loved without being charged with bad taste. Full six feet in height, rather slender, but well proportioned in figure, with noble fea- tures, thinned somewhat, it is true, by mental suffering-eyes of a jetty black, but soft and liquid in expression, he was really a hand- some man. His face, which Sherman had spoken of as pale, was now flushed, as if with excitement, and was quite rosy in color. His clothes, though threadbare, had been fashionably cut and made, and looked gen- teel on his figure in spite of their age. He did not give Demarest .much time to study his looks, but advancing at once with a courteous grace, gave his reasons for the visit. "I come to thank you, Mr. Demarest," J6 said, " for your great kindness in commend- ing me to your uncle. My week of proba- tion is over, and Mr. Wedgewood is so pleased with my services that he retains me permanently in the situation. It has relieved me of very great trouble." I am glad to hear it, Mr. Sherman," said Demarest, with apparent cordiality.. "Take a seat; I will ring for wine, and we will christen your success." "Thank you, Sir," said the young man, accepting the seat. "You will excuse me froml joining you in wine, I know, when I state that one of the reasons which seemed most to influence your uncle in retaining me was the fact that I do not drink at all. It seems that the poor fellow whose place I now fill drank too hard, and hastened his own end by it." "But a single glass will do you no harm. You certainly have drank wine in your; day. " "Yes, Sir ; but when my fortune, ebbed so low that I could only drink,at the expense of others, I wisely. pledged myself to abstain from it altogether, and I have kept that pledge for years." "Then certainly I will not urge you to break it. By the way, when did' you see your fair friend, Miss Lorraine?" "Not an hour since. Pardon me, Sir but I meant'first to thank her for using her influ- ence with you th procure for me this much- needed situation!" Demarest tried to read the secret of love in that frank and honest fac:e, while Sherman was speaking of liss Lorraine; but he read nothing more than gratitude. He resolved to feel further." "Have you known Miss Lorraine long?" he asked, in a quiet way, as if he merely asked for the sake of keeping up the conver- sation. "No, Sir; my acquaintance with her is very slight. My sister did some work for her; and in that way the young lady found out our circumstances, and learned, through my sister's thoughless way of talking, a por- tion of my family-history. Her noble heart' -became interested in our misfortunes,. and you, Sir, know the rest. I am grateful to both her and yourself, and will try, by doing my duty to your uncle, to justify your recom- mendation." "Miss Lorraine is very beautiful," said ,Dermaiett,. appsretly in abstration, but really With an eye watching every shade up- on the face of his visitor-every quiver of his lip. ' "Yes, Sir, beautiful as an angel, and almost as good and perfect, I think!" said Sherman, tnthusiastically. (, "Your gratitude will turn to love, I am thinking!" said Demarest, with a smile. "Never, never, Sir! I am poor, but I am proud, too proud to seek in an heiress relief from my poverty! But, excuse me-I must bid you good-day, Sir, for my mother and sister have yet to learn that I hold my situa- tion permanently!" "Good-day-you must call in and see me often!" said Demarest,' as he 'shook hands with his uncle's new clerk. "That man is, must be, the ' other'!" said Demarest, when the door closed after his visitor had gone. "Let me but be certain of it, and he will curse the hour when he cross- ed my path l" CHAPTER II. THE HAPPY FAMLY. From the almost palace-like residence of Anson'Demarest, Edward Sherman hastened, after the interview just described, up street after, street, until he reached a small and quiet lane or alley, far up-town, where a half dozen small frame houses stood in a row- houses which, both from their locality and cheapness of construction, were. evidently leld at a low rent. Yet they looked respect- able, though plain and unpretending, none of them having more than four or five apart- ments. At the door of one of these buildings-or rather in the open door-way, I should have said-stood a lady slightly past the meridian of life, dressed in deep black. One of her pale, thin hands rested upon the snow-white shoulders of a lovely young girl, whose start- ling beauty seemed all the -more brilliant page: 6-7[View Page 6-7] from the nature of her dress and its trim- mings-black, like the garb of the lady. There was that strong resemblance in fea- ture between these females which could not be mistaken, and proclaimed them at a glance to be mother and daughter. And the resem- blance extended also to the young man, whose approach they smilingly waited. He could be, by his looks, none other than son and brother. "Edward, your face tells us that you have i good news, even before your lips speak it P" said the elder lady. "Yes, dear mother " he replied. "I have -my situation is secure, and I come home with a month's advance-wages in my pocket -one hundred dollars-more money than we have seen for a long time. Now, we can once more at least know what comfort is! You and sister will no longer have to work for the Chatham-street sharks!" "Oh, I am so glad, for I can resume my studies once more i" said the young girl, as she clasped her brother's extended hand. "Was it not that sweet Miss Lorraine who aided you, brother?" "Yes, sister; she influenced a young gen- tleman, the nephew of my employer, to inter- cede for me, and he introduced and recom- mended me to his uncle.. My own steady application for a week has done the rest. Mr. Wedgewood is a very strict business- man, particular in everything, but he ex- pre ses himself very much pleased with me;' andit shall not be my fault, if he is ever dis- pleased." While. these words were being said, the trio had entered the front-room of the cot- tage, an apartment very plainly and even scantilysfurnished, but as neat and clean as it could possibly be. "Sit down, brother, and tell' mother all about it, while I get. supper ready!" said the young girl. "And then you can tell me all about that dear Miss Lorraine-how good and how kind she was to you i" "You can call it tea as well' as supper this time, Maggie dear!" said young Sherman, as he took a package of genuine hyson from his: pocket and handed it to her. "We will not have to live upon strictly cold-water prin- 1 ciples, now. Tea and coffee, and milk and sugar, can once more be afforded!" " "1 am so glad, for dear mother's sake Pi 1 cried the girl, as she took the tea and hasten- ed away to prepare it. "No matter how dark my fortunes have I been, I have been blessed in my children!" said Mrs. Sherman, as she sat down near the a window. "Had you become dissipated and i reckless, Edward, or poor Maggie have been as wild and giddy as most girlsof her age and beauty are, I know not how 'I could have - borne up under my gret sorrow. But nevei was a moter blessed with kinder and bettel i children." t "Your own love and care have made us , what we are, mother!" said the son. "Par ents who do as you have done, reap'their re- , ward from the seed they have sown. Your constant kindness to us deserves all we can do for its return. ! zCHAPTER II. "OUISE LORRAINE AT HOME. It is time that the reader was made ac. quainted with'our heroine. I select the mo- ment when Edward Sherman retired from the presence of her and her mother, after having thanked her for her influence in gain- ing him a situation. The face which we have described as so beautiful in the miniature was now lighted up with felig, as she said to her mother, a feeble-lookinglady offorty or forty-five years: What a noble-looking young man, mo. ther I I am so glad that laided him in get- ting the situation!" Pretty well in face and figure, but shock- ingly dressed!" said Mrs. Lorraine, in a lazy, drawling tone. "His clothes were old, I know, mother; bt they fitted well, and he looked every inch a gentleman 1" "All but his dress, my dear-all but his dress'1" saidMrs. Lorraine, with as much ani- mation as she was capable of showing. ", An ill-dressed man can never be a gentleman, in my eyes. Now, there was that poor dear Demarest, whom you were so foolish as to discard-worth near a million in his own ijght, and the heir of a childless uncle-you 'ever saw him dressed so! Why, his valet Vould 'wear better clothes than your new proteg6 )e e "Anson Demarest is well enough where he is " said the young lady, with a toss of her head which shook the wavy curls over her white shoulders. " We. have money enough without seeking an alliance with money; and I have often told you I never would give my hand, if my heart could not go with it!" And the beautiful girl drew her magnificent figure proudly up to its full height. "Oh, this love is all very well to talk about, but what is it, after all " drawled Mrs. Lor- raine. ". I am, sure I lived very happily with your poor father, while he was with us; but 1 never loved him, I am sure-never half so much as I do poor Silk, there l" A snowy little poodle, which was reclining at her feet, raised his head on hearing his nae mentioned, and, leaping into her lap, licked the jeweled hand which began lazily to caress him. "Oh, mother I shame-shame to speak of loving a paltry dog, and then say you did not love my dear, noble father! Oh, if I could but know surely that he was dead, and where his dear body was laid, I would walk thou- sands of miles to weep over his grave! And in a moment, her beautiful eyes were glistening with tears. "There-there-child, do not take on in that way. You affect my nerves dreadfully when you do so. I don't trouble myself about your father. He left us well provided; and I know he must be dead, or he would come home. I wish you would ring the bell, dear, and order the carriage out. I must take poor dear little Silk out-he looks as if he wanted fresh air dreadfully, and I am sure I do!" "Why, mother, do you forget that Mr. drib, your lawyer and man of business, wrote that he would call on you to-day to know about your investments? He anticipated a' tank-crisis you know, and advises you to in- vest the property in some safe way." "Oh yes, I do remember; but I hate busi- ness, I am so weak in my nerves. You at- tend to it Louise, and do whatever you like, or tell him to.. If there are any papers to sign, I can do it.; but doh't bother my poor head about business. I am not equal to it, indeed I am not; am I, Silk? No, that's what you mean when you shake your head, isn't it, dear. Do send for the carriage, Louise, while I go and have Celestine dress me. Come Silk, come; you're going to have a ride in the Park, my pet." "Can it be possible that that woman is my mother?" said Louise Lorraine, as she saw the rich dress of herd arent slowly disappear from the doorway. "To think so much more of her poodle-dog than of the'memory of my dear and noble father. I cannot be- lieve it, for there is no feeling, no thought, no particle of her nature like mine. She despises that noble fellow Sherman, because his clothes were threadbare. She could not see the soul that flashes from his proud eye; the Apollo-like leauty of his form; the grave majesty of his handsome face.. There is more music in the bark of her lapdog, to her' ear, than in the mellow tones of a nch and manly voice. No; I cannot believe that my blood and hers are of the same nature. I know, alas, I know too well that I have a heart! She has none. How much joy there will be to-night in the little household of Edward Sherman. I wish I was there to share it." And the proud, beautiful girl sighed, as she thought of the pleasure he and his loved ones must feel. CHAPTER IV. "AWYER' CRIB AND A GOLDEN BAIT. Louise Lorraine, in the last chapter, spoke of a lawyer named Crib as the, man of busi- ness of her mother; also stating that Mr. Crib wished to see her in regard to proper investments of her property. As it is just and proper that the reader should form a thorough acquaintance with the friends of Mrs. Lorraine, it is best that we look in upon this lawyer in his own ;" crib", and see what kind of a Crib he is. In Wall street, that avenue to the gold- dreamer's heaven, where honest men cannot live long, there is a building entirely occu- pied by that class of men who live solely upon litigation; who thrive upon the misfor- tunes of others. Men whose study it is to thwart fully as much as to obtain justice; who turn and twist. law into every shape to 'obtain the ends of their clients and to earn ' their fees. In the second story of this, building are two offices, the outer one bearing the name of Elnathan Crib, attorney and counsellor-at- law; the inner one having in huge letters on its door only the word "private." In the outer office are four .desks, over. which are shelves filled with bundles of papers tied up in red tape, and all around the other parts of the room are shelves filled with. ponderous law-books. A table in the centre of the room, covered with green baize, having a good quantity of pens, ink, and paper, lying around loose on it, is surrounded by chairs to accommodate 'clients, who wait their turn to enter the sanc-- tum sanctorum marked " private". At the desks aforementioned, pale-faced clerks, who look as if daylight and fresh air had been dealt out to them in homcaopathic doses, sit writing and copying; and a lean office-boy flits in and out, like the ghost of a shadow, coming from or going upon errands upon which he is sent. We are privileged, and will enter the pri- vate office. In a very roomy arm-chair, cushioned with leather, before a very small table, covered with professional green cloth, no furniture besides, except a half-dozen wooden-bottomed chairs, not calculated to induce visitors to sit in them uncomfortably long, sits a small, yet pompous-looking little man, dressed in the. height of fashion-a diamond in his' shirt- bosom and another on his finger, looking over some. papers. His head is. very large. for the size of his body, and looks all the larger from the great crop of hair upon it,. which,. being of bushy order, looks some- thing like a Lord Chancellor's wig only halt powdered, for it is a di thrown, sprinkled. with gray. A p face, with rather: page: 8-9 (Illustration) [View Page 8-9 (Illustration) ] puggish features; a pair of small gray eyes, which seem to be dancing a jig all the time they move so rapidly, make up the picture. And this gentleman is Mr. Elnathan Crib. The small office-boy, previously having knocked for admittance, came in; and, in an unearthly squeak rather than a voice, said: "A gentl'man wants to see yer, Sir, out thifr I' And he jerked' with his thumb' significant ly over his shoulder toward the outer office. "One of my old customers, eh?" Mr. Crib said. "No, guess not. Hain't never seen him afore," said the boy. "Go and ask-his name." The boy went out and returned in an in- stant. A"Mr. Anson Dem'rest, he says he is-wants to see you for a minnit or two, only." "Ah! Mr, Demarest? Heis a new custom-. er, and worth having. Tell him that I am very busy; but will force time to see him." "Iees fat, then, I reckon," squeaked the boy, speaking audibly, only the words were spoken to himself. "Guess he'll get lean be- fore the Gov'noi gets through with him. Most fat un's do!" As the boy went out, the lawyer shuffled up the papers on his table, and seemed to be immensely busy all at once-so busy that he did not notice the entrance of his visitor un- til the shadowy office-boy squeaked in an extra loud tone: "Here's Mr. Dem'rest, Sir." " Ah I beg your pardon, Mr. Demarest It, cried the lawyer, springing to his feet, and bowing very low. "I am engaged in a most intricate case-a most devilish intcate case, I may say; and it makes me abstracted, and drives me almost distracted. Take a seat, i Sir, take a seat, and let me know what I can have the happiness of doing for you. I should hardly think a man of your means would venture into Wall street-sharp fellows down i here- may say, devilish sharp Ha! ha!' "You know me, then?" saidDemarest, as he took a seat, and glanced at the lawyer with 1 a keen and searching look. "Yes, Sir, by name and by property. We E Wall-street lawyers know everybody by property. A man worth over a million in his own right, besides being the surely pro- s spective heir of some millions more, could hardly be unknown in Wall street, even if he never had been clawed by a ' bear' or gored by a 'bull '. They're keen on a scent-devil- ish keen, I may say." " Well, Sir, since you know something of n me, I will at once proceed to the business I which brought me here, as time musthe preci- i. ous to you. I believe you are the business- man of Mrs. Lorraine, of the Fifth avenue? v "Yes, Sir, I have had the happiness to manage her affairs since the mysterious dis- appearance of her husband--a fine lady, Sir, a very fine woman. Likes to see men well- ressed. A nice woman, Sir-I may say, devilish -nice!" ir-I may say Yes, I know her well, and have long been Ai visitor at her house." ; "Ah yes, I see!' She has an attraction in that beautiful daughter. Miss Louiseis hand- some, very handsome-- may say, devilish handsome. Intelligent, too, it is said, and quite accomplishedY. A gentleman of your taste and judgment could but be pleased with her." "You are right, Sir. I am upon very friendly terms with Miss Lorraine, and I tell you, in the strictest confidence, that I expect a future alliance there. But of this I must beg you not even to hint at present: The fortune of the young lady is far below my standpoint, and, bdtween you and me, I fear the mother is rather foolish and extravagant I come, confiding entirely in your honor to 'keep my visit a secret from the world gener- ally, and from them especially, to talk with you about their matters; for I wish, before I do anything definite, to know that they are sound and safe, financially speaking. For though I am now what most men would con-' sider Wealthy, and, as you say, have prospec- tive fortune ahead, yet I know the value of money too well not to be particular about it I have an ambition-it is to be the richest man in New York before I die; andlI mean to accomplish it. I have just struck a vein, in Californian parlance, which will double my own fortune, and perhaps I can throw a handsome chance in the way of Mrs. Lorraine, if it can be done behind the curtain: for del- icacy forbids that I should be known in the matter." "It must be a rich vein which will double a million of dollars," said th- lawyer, very re- spectfully; for if there was anything on earth that he did reverence, it was money. "It is, and I will impart the secret to you upon your pledge of honor not to reveal it, or my connection with the matter, until I my. self make it public!" "I give you my professional honor, as a lawyer and as a gentleman, to keep any secrets that you impart to. me, Mr. Dema- rest." "Very well, Sir, the secret is this. A little' over a year since, I fitted out a poor but honest friend, who desired to go t OCalifor- nia, with everything that he needed--passage- money and all. In return, he was to share his profits with me. He has just come back with over a hundred thousand dollars in gold, and the title-deeds to. fify acres of the land where he was so lucky. He has turned over , . page: 10-11[View Page 10-11] that deed to me, and I have determined to- form a mining-company that will throw every- thing in California in the shade. I shall c invest a million of dollars myself in machin- r ery, hands to work the mines, tools, etc., and E issue stock to the amount of a million and a half for others to come in upon." "It will be a stupendous operation-I may a say, devilish stupendous!" said Mr. Crib, his g eyes as big as saucers. "Fifty acres right in the gold-bearing region, you say?" a "Yes, Sir; with mountains of quartz, and . rivers to work the mills and wash the ore." 1 "Why, Sir, millions will run into billions with you! The chances are enormous! I I may say, devilish enormous!" "You are fight, and I appreciate your judg- i ment, Mr. Crib. If you will. accept a lucra- tive office in the new company, I will see that you have it, and forty or fifty shares 1 which you can pay for out of the profits." i "You are very kind, Mr. Demarest-I 1 must say, devilish lhihd. I shall be but too, glad to hold any position which you may get for me. And the stock will be very accept- able indeed-I may say, devilish acceptable 1" "Do you not also think you could persuade Mrs. Lrraine to invest her funds in the ' Sierra Nevada ', the name of our company? It will double her fortune in a few months, I am sure, and when her property is safe in the same stock where I put all my own, I can feel confident, and proceed sooner with my matrimonial undertaking." "Yes; I see. I have' no doubt I can per- suade her to do it. She lets me invest her money about as I please-only looking that the interest comes in fast enough for her to spend. I am to see her to-day, and I think I can win her over to the investment." "Do it, and fifty shares of our stock will be handed you by my secretary in the morn- ing. The shares are put at $500 each, to keep paltry speculators from mixing in with as." "Yes; I see. That is sharp, very sharp- I may say, devilish sharp!" "And remember again, my dear Mr. Crib, that it would be very improper and very in- delicate for them to find out in any way, at present, my connection with the company. v You had not better even mention my name while you are there!" Certainly I will not, Sir! I can be mum, when silence on any point is needed-1 may say, devilish mumI You can depend on me Mr. Demarest!" "I am satisfied that I can, Mr. Crib. And as proof of my entire confidence in you, I shall hereafter intrust my whole legal busi- ness to you!" "Oh, thank you,' Sir. Iam very grateful I may say, devilish grateful I I will do my best to forward your interests, Sir 1" "I doubt it not, Sir. And I will detain you no longer, for I have to be stirring. Our certificates of stock are to be ready this after- noon, and' I must see to it I Good afternoon, Sir!" "I will see you out, my dear Sir I! Come. again, come soon, and come often. I shall always be glad to see you; very glad-I may say, devilish glad!" And the lawyer bowed the' young million- aire out of the sanctum, and through the outer office, and down the stairs clear into the street. "I reckon as how the Gov'nor has got big pickin ahead!" squeaked the office-boy, as his master went out with Demarest. "He'd never do all that bowin', and scrapin' and palaverin' without 'twas goin' to pay' 1" The pale clerks smiled, for they knew that the ghostly errand-boy was speaking up to facts; but they said nothing, for work, not talk, was the order of the day in that office. CHAPiTER V. THE BAIT TAKING-OCIBBAGE .THE GAME. Mrs. Lorraine had taken her drive in com- pany with silk; had given the petted ca- nine his coveted airing, and exhibite'd herself and her superb equipage in the Park; and she was in a very good humor with herself in particular and all the world in general when she came back to her Fifth-avenue residence afterward, nearly appetized enough to enjoy the luxurious dinner which was to be on the table an hour or two later. "Has that lawyer of ours been here since I've been out, dear?" she asked of her daugh- ter, whom she found reading in their favorite sitting-room. "He has not," said Louise, quietly, without looking up from her book. "Well, I am glad of it; for now I can talk to him myself." He is a nice sort of a man for a horrid lawyer-dresses very well; and then he knows his place. Silk and I have had a nice drive; haven't we, Silk? I think reading hurts the lustre of your eyes, Louise, dear. 'I wouldn't read so much, if I were you." A servant. entered, and handed Mrs. Lor- raine a card, saying that the gentleman was , waiting to see her. "Oh, it is Mr. Crib," said the lady, lan- , uidly, as she looked at the card. "Bring Sim right up here. I don't stand on ceremo- , ny with him. He'll not disturb you, will he, [ Louise, dear?" "- No, mother; for I shall go to my own room. You know I do not like the weasel- ; eyed man.. He is too obsequious and too r fawning to please me." "Oh dear I you are very hard to please. page: 12-13[View Page 12-13] You seemed pleased enough with that:seedy Mr. Sherman." "Yes; for he looked and seemed to be ev- ery inch a man. I like men, but I hate pup pies.", A' Oh dear I that is another cruel fling at poor little Silk. I wish he'd bite your in- gers, so I do." He'd lose the head he did it with," said Louise, as she left the room. Mr. Crib entered a moment after. "My dear Madam, how well you look!" he said, as he bowed very low. "Really, you get younger every day. I -thought at first that it was Miss Louse, and not youir- self, whom I had the honor of seeing.4' ,"O Mr. Crib I;how can you say so?" And Mrs. Lorraine tried to blush through the powder and paint which beplastered her ,cheeks. Vain attempt "The truth, Madam.--the actual truth I I deal in nothing else with you, my dear Mad-'1 am: the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, as we say in court." "Doesn't Silk look well, too, Mr. Crib? We've just come back from a ride m the Park." "Charingly, Madam. , He 'is' a beautiful ] dog. If-Barnum had him on exhibtion,-half the town would run to see him." l '"But they shouldn't. He is too precious to be gazed upon by every vulgar eye. Are you not, Silk? See how intelligently he nods his head. He knows every word I say to hMm. He looks hungry. Poor fellow you shall have your dinner in a little while, i right from my own plate, darling." "Speaking of dinner, Madam, it must be b near your dinner-hour, and I will hasten iny a business,' said Mr. Crib. ." I wrote to you that we are, anticipating a crisis in the money, marBket BBanks may break and go all to -crash; and that would be terrible for you." * Oh dear I yes. But can't you fix mat- ters al ight for me, Mr Crib? I so detest the thought of business. It makes my poor head ache to think of anything like it. You know what to do, I am sure." b ' I know what to advise, my dear Madam: ca it is for you to order me to do what- is best. w Now, I have an opportunity of investinge bu your entire property in a way which will double its amount in a few months." "Double it, Mr. Crib?-double it- did you say?" exclaimed Mrs. Lorraine, with more animation than was usual for her. "' es, Madam-a sure and safe investment ;X and if I were you I would put every dollar I owned into it. I shall myself invest every I cent I have on earth in. the Way I mention." gr "Dear me I! what is it?" "A new gold-mine' company, with fiftya acres of. gold-bearing land in California, and ba a million of dollars in cash as its basis of ly'capital--stock only five hundred dollars a share now, but will go up to a thousand, v- Without a doubt, the moment it is in the mar- p- ket. The Sierra Nevada Gold Mountain stock it is called. I see in it the surest and at greatest speculation of the day." n- "It sounds likesomething great. But dear me, Mr. Crib, you know best. Do as you id think best for me in the matter. I know you will do right, and my poor head isn't fit for business. "I expected, rmy dear Madam, that you, r, would take my advice, in the' matter; so I brought along a power of attorney for you to sign, so that I could act promptly in the matter while there was a chance; for if we do not get this stock immediately, it will be h all gobbled up and our chances be gone. And the lawyer took a paper from his I pocket, which gave him complete authority to act with the property of /Mrs. Lorraine as e he saw fit. Pens and inkl were on a table close at hand, and he brought them to the lady. "I can call a servant or two to witness your signatpre if you please, Madaim," he continued, as he laid the' open paper before her. ,Yes, do, Mr. Crib. Where shall I put m name '? said the lady. . "Here, opposite this green seal, Madam. You can write it while I call the servant." The lady slowly scrawled her autograph' in the place pointed out; and in a moment after, her footman and another servant were brought in by Mr. Crib, to sign their names as witnesses. When this was done, and the servants gone, Mr. Crib said. "I congratulate you, my dear Madam, upon your wisdom in this matter. You are now what the world would call rich, but this investment will make you very, very rich." "Dear me I I am glad to hear it. I can buy or build a residence further up-town; can't I? We are too far down-too near where 'carts, and market-wagons, and omni- buses, and such vulgar things go." "Oh yes; I will look out a lot for you, and see an architect and builder. You can get a good price for this house, and build a perfect palace further up." "Oh, that would be so nice I Do see to it, -Mr. Crib. You will, will you not?" "Certainly, Madam, certainly. And now I will bid you good afternoon; for I have a great deal of business on hand i' And, with a boW which made, his bushy hair almost sweep the carpet, the lawyer backed out of the room and disappeared. CHAPTER VI e PLOT DEEENe S- M. CRM I PRO- MOTED. In a very few minutes after. Mr. Crib re- turned to his office, subsequent to his business- visit to Mrs. Lorraine, he was called upon by Anson Demarest. "Ah, my dear Sir, I am glad to see you, very glad; I may with propriety say, devilish glad " cried the lawyer, as he rose and hand- ed his new client a chair. "And I, presume by your joyous face that you have been successful in persuading the lady to double her fortune in our gold invest- ment," said Demarest. "You are right, 4ir, quite right. She has authorized me to do as I like in the invest- ment, and'given me an all-sufficientpower of attorney to act in her name as for herself. She is delighted with the prospect that I laid before her, and intends even to sell the house she is now living in, and build a palace far- ther up, in ayet more exclusive neighbor- hood." "Good. I will, buy that house, and as I own some up-town lots she shall have the choice of them. But my name, you know, must be kept out of the matter." "Oh yes, to be sure, Sir. You were not' spoken of to-day." "I am glad to hear of it. And to show you how faithfully I fulfill my promises, here are your fifty shares of stock. How do you like the looks of those certificates?" "Beautiful, very beautiful, devilish beauti- ful!" exclaimed the lawyer, as he examined the handsomely-engrared scrip. "Who is this that you have for President; Paul Petti- grew? Ido not know the name." "It is only a business-name for myself. I am the President of the company. We have but' one Vice-President, do you see his name?I' "Why, on my word, Mr. Demarest, you astonish me. You do me too much honor. I see my own name there. Can it be real?" "Yes Sir; your business tact and influence, as well as your personal merit, eminently fit you for the p9sition. Mr, arnay, the Treas- urer, is the fortunate friend who, after digging himself a fortune there, located and bought the land. We three will manage the whole concern, and hold the stock so much in our own hands as to keep the control. Of course, you will invest all of Mrs. Lorraine's money with us "'- "To be sure I will, and convert what other stock and real estate she now has into cash, for the same purpose." Good. The sooner it is done the better, for we must commence operations as soon as possible. I am impatient to see our returns I the gold-list'of each California steamer." "You may rest assured, Sir, that your im- patience cannot exceed mine. ,Ishall notlose a moment in my operations." "That is right. Come and dine with me to-morrow, M. Crib-six is my hour-you know my address." ( Oh, Sir, you- are very kinid; I must say, devilish kind. I will be: sureto be with you at the hour." , "Do. And, by the way, keep our opera- 'tions quiet for a few days. I do not wish our operations known on Change' just yet. When we are all ready for work, we will come out on the sea of finance like a full- rigged man-of-war, every sail set, our colors all aloft; every gun shotted, and astonish the world." 'RRight, Sir, right; I will be mum until you say the word." "That is the thing. I have every confi- 'dence in you, Mr. drib. We will sail our golden ship nobly together. Good afternoon, my dear Sir." "Good afternoon, Mr. Demarest. 'Call as often as you can." And Mr. Crib a second time bowed his vis- itor clear out to the street. "Where's that boy? where's Johnny tin- gle?" he asked, as he returned into the outer office. "That's me; here I be, Sir," squeaked the little office-boy from under one of the desks, where he had lain down to' take a nap. And he sprang to his feet and came for- ward. "Go to Downing's, and tell him to have an extra game-dinner for mq to-day at three o'clock, and to put a bottle of Heidsick in ice, and a bottle of port also," said the lawyer, sharply, and then he went into his inner office. "i eewhittaker! I guess the Gov'nor has fell heir to somethin', he goes it so strong,". squeaked the boy, as he put on his cap, and glided away, shadow-like, upon his errand. CHAPTER VII THE SPY AND HS REPORT. Anson Demarest was again. pacing to and fro in his favorite apartment at home, a look of satisfaction on his face, as he spoke his thoughts to himself. ' My plans are working well!" said. he. "When the Lorraines have all their property invested in the Sierra Nevada stock, they will learn two important things: That the gold- company is a bubble, and that they are beg- gars. I wonder how 'the haughty Louise and. her nervous mother will like that. She is too proud to beg, the fair Louise, and she will seek employmen-t by 'which she may bring some of her accomplishments into play. But I will watch and foil her at every page: 14-15[View Page 14-15] point. She shall have no honorable employ- ment; and when she is reduced to utter beg- gary, I will be near to keep her from starva- tion, and to ask her if she remembers refus- ing the hand which could have almost lifted her to a throne; for even kingdoms are bought and sold now-a-days. It is time that Mc- Daniels, the fellow I placed as a watch upon her movements, made a report Through him I expect to find out if she is in love with Sherman. If she is-his clerkship will soon be vacant, and he will be smarter than I if he ever gets another. If the fellow only drank, I would soon have him into a scrape that would put him inside of stone walls. Well-what is wanted, Jerome?" The last words were addressed to a servant who came in. "A gentleman, who gives his name as Mr. McDaniels, wishes to see you, Sir!" "Ah! All right, Jerome-ask him up here at once. Then bring a bottle of wine- sherry will do, and some cigars, the McClel- lan brand I. "Yes, Sir!" "And remember, Jerome, while that gen- tleman is here, I am at home to no one else!" "Yes, Sir!" And, with a respectful bow, the servant left the room. In a minute or two more, he returned with the wine and cigars, escorting Mr. McDan- iels at the same time. The latter was a quite well-dressed young man, not at all flashy in appearance, but quiet and sedate-looking, as a student of the- ology might be supposed to be. His face was pale, he had gray eyes, and a cold; searching expression, s if he was studying every one and everything that he saw. "H ow do you do, Mr. McDaniels! I Take a seat. Anything new yet?"' said Demarest. "Yes, Sir-or I should not be here. When I have a job on hand, I earn my money, and never show myself without I have something to impart or want instructions. I am too old in the 'shadow business' to make myself troublesome?" "I am glad to hear it. Take a glass of wine and light a cigar, and I shall be glad to hear your report!" "I will take the cigar, and smoke it by and by, but wine is an article not in my line. I have always to keep my head clear and my wits about me "- said the " shadow". "As you like. When did you see Miss Lorraine?P" * "Not a half-hour ago, Sir I I have been on her track for the last three hours. As I told you I would, I took board in a, house from which I could see all who entered or left her mother's house. This afternoon, about three hours ago, the young lady herself came, out in walking-costume, as if for a promenade. I hurried out for a walk myself; and followed her until she took an up-town stage. I caught the driver's eye as he started off, after she got in, and got a seat on the box with him. The lady remained in the stage until it had nearly reached the end of its route, away up beyond civilization almost. When she got but, she turned into a narrow lane, where there was only a row of cottages, common-looking cribs at that. I kept her in sight, and saw that she entered the third house on the row. I carelessly inquired of some dirty-faced boys, who were playing marbles; who lived in that house, but could not find out The lady had been there for an hour or more, when a tall young man, dressed in deep black, entered the same house. He too came from down-town, by the omnibus. After he had been in about a half-hour,the lady came out and he with her. As it was now twilight, and lamps were few and far between up there, I was soon within earshot of them, listening to all they said, and following them unnoticed. I heard the lady address him as Mr. Sherman." "I thought so I The description tallied with him!" cried Demarest. "Go on, Mr. McDaniels, go on!" "Well, Sir, he escorted her down as far as the street where the stages ran; and none coming along just then, at her request, the walk was continued!" "At her request, you say?". "Yes, Sir-and they got so deeply engaged in conversation that stage after stage passed them unnoticed; and, to be brief, he walked all the way home with her! And when they got there, she pressed him to go in, and he accepted the invitation. He remained there twenty minutes exactly, and then came out and took an up-town stage, probably for home again!" "Was there any love in their conversation, Mr. McDaniels?" "Not precisely, Sir, as I could make it out. But-the lady's, tones were very encouraging, and any one could see,if he was not blind, that love was the thing she would most like to hear from his lips. 'But he seemed rather distant and respectful. But I think she'll bring him-she looks like a woman who will not give up a point very easily when once her mind is set upon it!" "Yes, she will ' bring him' as you say- bring him to ruin, and that speedily. You are well acquainted with sporting men and sporting-houses, are you not, Mr. McDan- iels?" "Yes, Sir. You mean gambling-houses, I suppose!" "Yes. That young man must either be induced to visit one, or be got into one with- out his knowing its character. ,And, if he- can be trapped or drugged into drunkenness, that must be done. He must lose the situa- tion I was instrumental in getting for him, and do it by his own acts, apparently." "Yes, Sir. I understand you." "Well, here are five hundred dollars more in' hand for you to work With. You do well, so far, Mr. McDaniels, and you will find me liberal as you proceed. Keep your eye on the movements of the lady, as usual, and also put him under espionage. If you need help, employ it, and call on me for funds when they are needed. Find out all about his family and their means-for they too will have to come to distress with him, for they are her protegees." . Very well, Sir. Anything more to-night, Sir?" "No, Mr. McDaniels. You understand my wishes, I see, perfectly, and act entirely to my satisfaction l" "I am glad to hear it, Sir. I seldom fail to please my employers. And I often have hard and dark jobs. put into: my hands. When a husband puts me on the watch for a faithless wife and her paramour, I have the most unpleasant of all duties. But. after all, it is the most frequent and the best paid em- ployment that I get. You, Sir :ittle dream of what goes on in this great city. None but a professional shadow or detective, whose study it is, can dream of half that is done. Good night, Sir." "Good-night," said Demarest. The next moment, he was alone. "The girl is working tast; bus, by the high heavens, I will work taster!" he said, as he again walked to and fro in his room. "She, proud as she is, so loves him that she even oversteps the usual bounds of maiden delica- cy, and, under pretence of .friendship for his family, visits him at an hour when she knows that he must escort her home; and goes, too, in an omnibus, when her own carriage stands idly at home. He is the " other" whom she could love-whom she does love. Her, hate would be more profitable to him than her love. McDaniels works well. I could not have employed a better man. And now I must put another of my plans at work. Lou- ise Lorraine must have an anonymous note, hinting that her father yet lives, but has cornm mitted a crime which, for the present, keeps him from coming forward to claim his own and to see her whom he yet idolizes. That I will write and post myself. Then my uncle must have a flea put in his ear about his new clerk. He must be told that he games and drinks in secret.; but hypocritically pretends to be temperate and moral; that he had bet- ter put a watch upon him, and he will find out that his anonymous correspondent states only the truth. This too I can do, for I amn good in disguising my handwriting. Mr. Ed- ward Sherman will not long have reason to thank his fair benefactress for the situation she was so anxious be should get. All goes well! Never had hate better agent than I am; seldom does hate work so smoothly and so well as I seem to work now. The gold bubble isfull and ready for bursting; that will come with a thunder-crash upon the Lor- raines, and then the rest is east done. For poverty is powerless against wealth 1" CHAPTER VH. NERVES! NERVES! NERVES! "Louise! Louise! what do you mean?" exclaimed Mrs. Lorraine about noon on the ,day after the vyoung lady's visit to the Sher- man family. The mother had just risen from bed, and . was in her morning-dress. "Louise, Louise! what do you mean? I had no opportunity to speak to you last night, for I was being diessed for the opera, and could not allow my feelings to disturb my poor nerves; but I am positively shocked by your conduct." "Why, mother, what is the matter-what have I done to interfere with your happi- ness? I am sure that I have not trodden up- on poor Silk's toes, or even pinched his pre- cious tail!", There was a biting sarcasm in the look which accompanied these words, that would have aroused most mothers to anger; but it was too laborious for Mrs. Lorraine to be an- gry; and, with a feeble sigh, she said; "You know well what I mean, you naugh- ty willful girl. I know you haven't teased my pet; has she, Silk? You'd have bit her fingers if she had, wouldn't you? ' Yes,' you say? that's right, my little darling. No, that is not what. shocks me so. I couldn't even enjoy that dear precious Brignoli, at the op- era last night, for thinking of it. You were out walking-actually walking-in the street last evening, when we have two carriages and plenty of horses to 'use. And, worse ,than all, you allowed that low, miserably- dressed fellow, Sherman, to escort you home, and had the insufferable impertinence to in- troduce him to me. I thought I should faint on the spot. So low, so shockingly dressed I 'Why, he had ink on his fingers. Pah! I can smell it yet. Where on earth had you been to meet with him?" "To visit his mother and sister, Madam- two ladies who would be an honor to any so- ciety in which 'they visited; genteel, and ac- complished, and well-bred-ladies in every sense, even if misfortune has made them poor." page: 16-17 (Illustration) [View Page 16-17 (Illustration) ] "Ladies! and poor! Oh, shocking! Lou- I'se, what has come over you Are you losing your senses?" "I hope not, mother. It is frtunate that you have little pense to lose. Why do you interfere with my matters I. do not cross you in your whims." "My whims asif Iwas solowand vul- gar as to have a whim! O Louise, you are killing me. I suppose now that that low wretchedly-dressed fellow will think he has 'a right to call here!" "e will; for I invited him, and his mother, and sister to visit us often, and I hope they all will do so. Iie is one of Nature's noblemen-a man with everything to be proud of and nothing to be ashamed of." "Ohl child, child! a man dressed as he is, and nothing to be ashamed of! Poor, too, you acknowledge, and nothing to be ashamed of! Louise, you are crazy; indeed you are!" * We may yet be poor, mother; but if we are, will we be less respectable if we conduct ourselves with propriety?" "Poor and respectable? -Child, the two. were never known together. Poverty is worse than disgrace. But we will never be poor. Mr. Crib and I have been doing something to more than double the property. I am going to have a perfect palace of a house built away up-town,among the first people in the city. It is getting shockingly vulgar in this neighborhood. When I heard a horrid noise in the street a little while ago, I looked out and saw a great dirt wagon standing] right before our door, and a black man with ragged clothes on him was shouting, Char- coal '. And. Celestine told me, not an hour ago, when she was dressing me, that there was a family on this block that took board- ers. Only think of that, Louise. I am so i glad that we will soon leave such a low ] neighborhood." I "In what way is Mr. Crib going to double I your present income, mother?" asked Louise. I RBy investing my money in the stock of a i new gold-mine coinpany that is the richest in the world."- "Mother, you trust that man too much. I c do not, and never did like him. He is too ob-a sequious to be honest; too servile and fawn, ingto be honorable." i "Poh, poh, child, you know nothing about c business. He dresses splendidly, in the very t best of taste and thendoesn't he have his of- fice in Wall street, where they know all about - money. You cannot set me against him, and you need not try to-need she, Silk? He says r you are a perfect beauty, pet; and that shows how much he knows." " It shows that he knows how to humor your folly, mother. When he has robbed you of all you have, then you will believe me, tl and weep tears of vain regret thatyou did not take my warning." "I should never weep, Louise. Weeping hurts the eyes, you know. You are so suspi- cious. A man that lives in-Wall street and dresses so well as Mr. Crib, never could be dishonest; could he, Silk? 'No' ; you shake your head; no. Oh, what aprecious little dar- ing. By-by, Louise; I must go and take my chocolate, and see that poor Silk has his breakfast." "A letter for you, Miss Lorraine, just left' by the carrier," said a servant to Louise, en- tering the room, and handing her a letter a moment after her mother had gone out. The young lady took the letter, and, as soon as. the servant went away, opened it and glanced at its contents. "God of Heaven-what does this. mean?" she cried, her face turning to a deathly pallor "Myfather yet alive, and a criminal, hiding from the world? It cannot be possible. Ana yet the writer says I will soon have positive proof of it. He says it may be soon be in my power to aid my father. Who can this write be? He only signs himself' Truth and Sym- pathy'. God knows I have need of both. The writing is strange to me. Ought I to show this letter to my mother? 9 o-she thinks more of her dog than she does of the memory of my poor father! There is but little of a true woman's nature in her I Oh, if this news can be true! If I only knew where my father was. No crime could keep me from his ans! And he was ever too pure and noble to commit a crime. I will not be- lieve that he has done so, until I know it Yet this letter seems to be written in kind- ness. And the writer promises proof in a short time, I will be patient and wait. One needs patience to live with such a mother as I have. She has takea a dislike to Sherman, because he is not dressed in a style to suit her fastidious taste. She cannot appreciate his noble face and figure, the music of his manly voice, his devotion to his mother and sister. She knows not the wealth of his knowledge; she never could appreciate the charm of his conversation. His ideas are above lapdogs and tailors. sie thinks there is something besides mere money to live for in this world. Ah me t if he but knew the one deep secret of my heart, he would know that there was one who would willingly link her fate with his and share his destiny, be it what It might!" And, with a sigh, the young lady left the room. CHAPTER IX. EDWARD SHERMAN BAITED FOR A TRAP. ' A letter for you, my dear brother, left by the postman this evening " cried 'Maggfe page: 18-19[View Page 18-19] Sherman, as she met her brother at the door on his return in the evening from his employ- er's counting-room. "Thank you, sister-thank you. How have you spent the day?" "Oh, delightfully, brother. That dear Miss Lorraine called for mother and me in her carriage this afternoon; and took us to ride in the Central Park. We enjoyed it so much I Was she not very kind 1" "Yes, indeed, sister. She has a good heart, and no false pride. Mother needed fresh air and a change of scene, and I am glad she has had it!" ",What is in your letter, brother? Is it love? The contents seem to surprise you!" asked the young girl, playfully; for Edward Sherman. did seem to be astonished at the letter which he was reading. "I am rather surprised!" said the young man. "This letter, is anonymous, but pro- fesses to be from a very warm friend, who has witnessed. in silence what he terms my noble struggle to support you and mother, and keep my own head above the bitter wa- ters of poverty, and is now anxious to aid me and put me in the way, not only of a compe- tency, but of becoming wealthy. He wishes me to meet him to-morrow-night at ten o'clock, at No. --Broadway,. near Bleecker street, east side. He will be absent from the city until then, or he would meet me soon- er!" "It is a strange letter, brother. But it is worded kindly, and the writer seems to mean well. I wish you were wealthy, for then I know you would marry that dear Miss Lor- raine!" i' Pshaw, sister, what are you thinking of? Miss Lorraine thinks kindly of me for your sake-no more!" "I don't believe that, brother.. She did nothing but talk about you all the time we were riding. She loves you, brother.. I am sure she does!" "Nonsense, sister, nonsense, I tell you " "Say nonsense just as much as you please, brother, I know she loves you for all that. It takes a woman to read a woman's heart 1" "A woman, sis, and you only sixteen!" and Edward laughed heartily. "I don't care if you do laugh at me, and call me Child; many a woman in the Old World has worn a crown and ruled a nation' of men before she was as old as I. History tells me that!" said little Maggie, pouting. So they have, sis. Don't be put out with me. I do not value you the less because you are young and inexperienced. Let us go in and see mother. I must show her this let- ter!" "You will go to see the writer, will you not, brother?" ' I do not know yet; I will: consider upon it!" replied young Sherman. "If mother thinks it best, I may!" "I am sure she will-will you not, dear mother?" exclaimed Maggie, as they entered/ the room where her mother was seated. "How can I tell, dear, until I know what you mean " replied Mrs. Sherman, with a :smile. "Why, brother Edward has got a letter from some gentleman who wishes to aid him and make him rich," replied Maggie. "Would you noti advise him to go and see the gentle- man, mother?" "That depends upon who he is, and how he means\ to help your brother: Honorable poverty is preferable to dishonorable wealth." "Certainly, dear mother. Read the letter, and judge for yourself whether I should notice it," said the son, as he handed her the letter. Mrs. Sherman read it slowly and carefully. "The writer seems to mean kindly;, he speaks most felingly of the manner in which you have struggled through past difficulty," she said. . "Yes, mother. There is but one thing that I dislike about the letter " "What is that, my son?" "That it is anonymous. I do not like any- thing in the shape of concealment. If the writer had signed his real name to the letter, I should feel no doubt or hesitation about the, truth and honesty of his meaning." "The most truly kind and charitable are ever the most delicate, my son. Most likely, delicacy has prevented the person from using his name in the letter." "If you think so, mother, then I will keep the appointment," said young Sherman. "Supper is all ready, brother; I suppose you are ready for it 1" said Maggie. "Yes, indeed, sis; a hurried lunch ai 1 or 2 o'clock is all that I take after I leave here in the morning, and a whole day at the desk, and a brisk walk in the evening, gives me quite a ravenous appetite." "I am glad to hear it, brother: for before you got your new situation, you ate scarcely anything." 4 I make amends now, sister dear; and you and mother must follow- my example: for I will see that our table is well supplied. We have not now to study while we eat one meal how we are to procure the next. I hope when this quarter's rent is out and paid, to be able to find a more convenient house, further down-town, and nearer to my place of busi- ness, I have to take so much time in coming and going this long way, that it is tiresome." "It must be," said Mr. Sherman. And they went with cheerful steps to the evening-meal. page: 20-21[View Page 20-21] CHAPTER X. THE PLOTTERS AT WORK. Summoned by a note, Mr. McDaniels was again in the presence of Anson Demarest. "The time for active work has arrived, Mr. McDaniels," said Demarest to the spy. "My plans are rapidly culminating, and they must all work together. Mr. Edward Sherman has received ,a letter, in which the writer prom- ises to show him a road to speedy and certain wealth, if. he calls at No. -- Broadway, which is, as you know, a celebrated gambling- hell, once presided over by that prince of gamblers, Pat Hearn. He will go, for the letter was written in a way that will be sure to draw him there. Once in that house, he must either be made drunk, or so drugged that he-will appear to be stupidly drunk, atnd when he is got into the street, a convenient police-officer must be on hand to lug him off. to the station-house. A newspaper-reporter must know of the circumstance; where he got drunk, and report it in full-his name, em- ployment, place of, employment, and punish- ment: for the police-justice will' most un- doubtedly fine him. Be sure that the reporter dwells upon his seedy appearance, and his being a broken-down gentleman. Pay him well to make the article strong, and I will re- imburse you. I rather think that will end his clerkship with my uncle. Find out, then, who the landlord is that owns the house he lives in, and whether or not his rent is paid. Hint to the landlord that disreputable things are going on in the house, and that he had better look out for his rent, and also be care- ful lest the house be indicted as a nuisance.. You understand me?" "Yes, .Sir, perfectly. You are a strong hater, Mr. Demarest. I would rather be your friend than to have incurred your dislike!" "You may well say so, Mr. McDaniels. There are no half-way feelings about me. I love or I hate; and when I do hate, it is with an intensity that knows no end! The ruin of a foe is the only,satisfaction worthy of the name to me-the utter and complete ruin of him whom I hate, and all who cling to him!" "Well, Sir, in this case the work looks easy. Fortunately, I have had that drunk- making business to do before, in the case of a notorious temperance-lecturer who was doing the liquor-business an immense deal of harm. I got. him so fixed that he appeared to be drunk for a week, and everybody, even his physician, believed that he really had been drinking; and he had to take liquor to get himself out of the sickness which followed." ' How did you go to work to do it?" "He was enticed into a room by a fair en- chantress, who left him there upon a moment- ary excuse.. The instant she was gone, by an ingenious contrivance, a subtle vapor, of most powerful and stupefying nature, was in- troduced into the room, and before he. could, -know what it meant, or reach the. door, he Was helpless. I shall use the same plan on Mr. Sherman; and there is not the slightest, danger of a failure." ' "very well; go ahead, and your reward shall be commensurate with your success. I must now write a letter, putting my uncle on his guard about his new clerk, and awaken- ing his suspicions of hypocrisy on the part of the young man. The police-report will do the rest!" "You will make the letter anonymous, will you not?" "Of course. My name or agency must nowhere be known inthis matter!" "Well, Sir, there is no need of its being- known. But I must be off to put things in readiness for his reception at the roonis in Broadway. At what hour is he to be there '"' "At 10 o'clock to-night." "Good! A- 1 shall be ready for him-from the first to the last-vapor, policemen, reporter, and all. You shall see half a column at least, upon the moral depravity of our young clerks in general, and Mr. Edward Sherman in par- ticular." "All right, Mr. McDaniels, all right. A s I said before, you shall be paid with a liberal hand, according to your success!" "I have no fears as to that. Good day, Sir. "Good day. Hurry up mattes as fast as you can." "'Certainly, Sir." And the spy, bowing, departed.. "Now my gold bubble must burst, so that the fair Louise cannot help her beloved pro- tegee in his trouble, or even know how to help herself, and then all will work swim- mingly," said Demarest, rubbing his hands together in fiendish pleasure. "I can work ruin with as much art as a wizard of the olden time." CHAPTER XI. THE SHERMANS IN TROUBLE. It was almost noon of the day after the plans arranged by Demarest and his assistant villain were to be put in operation, when Maggie Sherman, pale, and with her eyes red- dened from weeping, called at the house of Mrs. Lorraine, and asked to see Miss Louise. The servant took her name to the young lady, and immediately came back to escort her up to the chamber of Miss Lorraine. She no sooner saw that young lady than she burst out into a new fit of sobbing and weeping, and it was some time before the kind offices of the lady could so restore her to calmness as to enable her to speak so as to be understood. At last she sobbed out* ".Oh, Miss Lorraine, we are in terrible trouble. You told me to come to you if ever we were in trouble, and I have come, for mother is almost crazy, and so am I!" "Do tell me what the matter is, my dear girl, and let me know how I can aid you I " said Louise, trying her best to soothe her. ' My brother-my poor brother i" sobbed Maggie. - Is he ill, or has he been hurt; speak, tell me quickly, Maggie!. And the face of Miss Lorraine in a moment was as pale as that of her visitor, "He went out last night to meet a person who wrote that he would aid him to become wealthy, and he has not come back yet. Mother and I have been sittings up all night, waiting for him, and we fear that he has been decoyed away and murdered, for he never stayed away from us so before, and we know he would not now of his own free will! "There must be something wrong, indeed! Do you know, or did he know the person whom he was to meet?" "No, Miss Louise. The letter was anon- ymous. But 'it seemed to mean a kindness, and after he consulted with mother, he thought it best. to go!" "Where was he to go to?" "To some place in Broadway, near Bleeck- er street. The number was in the letter, but he took that with him, and both mother and I have forgotten it." Have you made any inquiry at the police- station in that vicinity? Some accident may have. happened to him-he may have been njured by some of the lawless rowdies who oam about the city in the nighttime, and ave been carried to a hospital!" No, I did not think of that, or even know where to go. I came to you for advice, Miss Louise!"said Maggie, who had regained her composure to a great degree. 1 will ive you something better than ad- vice, my dear girl; I will give you assist- ance! I will orderout a carriage, and we, will gu at once to the station-house in that district, and if we do not hear of him there, we Will go to the Police Headquarters, and have him searched for. iHe may have been ecoyed into some den of crime for wicked purposes, fbr there are men whose whole study is evil-doing!" iAnd,'calling a servant, Miss Lorraine in- stantly ordered out her carriage. As her mother had not yet left her bed, she knew well she would meet with 'no opposition from that quarter. In a few minutes it was announced to be ready, and they were at once seated in it and on tleir way to the station-house. Upon arriving there, the two young ladies weni in, and Louise asked if anything had I. been heard of ..a young gentleman, named Edward Slierman, who had come into that neighborhood on a visit the night before, and was now mysteriously missing. "Edward Sherman?" said the Sergeant at the desk. "There is such a name dn the book here-taken up. by Officer O'Brien, as drunk and disorderly!" "Oh! it could not be my brother!" cried Maggie, tears starting to her eyes in an in- stant. "Ee never drinks liquor at all!" "Where is the Mr. Sherman whom you say is marked down as arrested?" asked Louise. "He was sent down to the Police Court, with the other prisoners, some hours ago. Ah, there is Officer O'Brien coming in now. He may know something of the man. Here, O'Brien, what became of the man down here as Edward Sherman, whom you arrested last night?" "' For bein' as drunk as an owl, and just as stupid too, bedad I Why, Sir, the Judge just fined 'him ten dollars a bit ago, and prached him a bit of a sarmint about bein' dacent, and not bein' caught drunk in the street any more; and then let him go!" "He was not drunk; he could not be-he does not drink liquor. I know he doesn't!" cried Maggie, weeping bitterly. "I'm sorry to contradict a lady!" said the officer, "but I'll take, my oath he was so drank he couldn't stand, and 1 had to get a man to help me carry him in!" ;"Come away, Maggie dear; it is useless for us to speak of his case here. If he has been arrested and discharged, as this officer says, we will find him at home. I do not be- lieve that he has been drunk-but I fear that he has been diugged into stupidity!" And Louise led the weeping girl out of the office and to the carriage. The driver was at once told to proceed to the residence of Mrs. Sherman, as fast as he could drive. , He was soon there, and Louise, accompanied by Maggie, entered the house. "Has brother Edward come, yet '? asked Maggie, as she met her mother. "Yes-and he is ;very sick. He has been poisoned, I fear. He can scarcely speak, and looks dreadfully. Come in, Miss Lorraine, perhaps he will respond to your questions. 1 can get scarcely anything out of him!" They at once entered the room where 'Edward Sherman sat. His face was deathly pale, his eyes blood-shot, his hair disheveled and his dress torn and in disorder. "j0 brother, brother! what is the matter?" cried his sister, rushing to his side. "Miss Lorraine and I have been searching for you, and a police-offcer said you had been ar- rested t" l page: 22-23[View Page 22-23] "It is true 1" said Sherman, huskily. "But oh, brother, you were notdrunk, were you?" sobbed the poor girl. "No, Maggie, no! I have not for years even tasted wine. ButI have been arrested- what for, I know not. I went to the place indicated by the writer of the letter which I received. I was asked ito a room, and told to wait a few moments and the gentleman who expected me would be in. I sat down, and I remember only that there seemed to be a strange smell of perfumery in the room. I felt a sudden sleepiness and tried in vain to keep awake. The next I knew, I was in a cell in the station-house among a lot of quar- reling vagabonds, feeling, as I do now, ter- ribly sick. I was told that I had been arrested for drunkenness, and denied the charge. But my denial was useless against the statement of the officer, and I Was taken before the police-magistrate and fined ten dollars. I only know that I was not drunk and that I was the victim of some foul conspiracy, for I was surely drugged by vapor in that room. I did not touch even a drop Of water after' I left the house until, in my misery this morn- ing, I begged for some at the station-house!" "What' enemy have you who could act such a dastardly part toward you?" asked Louise. "I do not know that I have an enemy in the world!" replied Sherman. "I know not what I could have done to deserve or make one." "It is strange. An enemy, or enemies, you must have, or such a wrong could not have been put upon you. Oh do be, for your own sake as well as of those who depend upon you, upon your guard hereafter, and if you receive anonymous letters, take no notice of them l" "You may rest assured that I shall not. I only fear that this misfortune is not yet ended for me. If the arrest and the cause they pre- tend it was made for, gets into the public papers, I fear the loss of my situation. For Mr. Underwood is a very Strict man and not given to patience, and I fear he will not wait to listen to explanations." "Put yourself to no fear on his account." said Louise, kindly. "The same influenice which got you the situation, will be used to retain you in it. Andnow let me advise you to rest. The care of your dear mother and sister will make you all right by to-morrow. and I hope you will not consider it indelicate of me if I call to see how you are?" "I am only thankful for your great. kind- ness in thinking me worthy of such pains," said Edward, blushing through his pallor. "Ihope to outlive this scandal, for the sake of all who take an interest in me." "You will--I am sure you will! And now good afternoon--you need rest. Do not fret or worry-all will be right!" And the young lady, smiling, left the room accompanied as far as the carnage by Maggie, "She is indeed an angel in human form!' said Edward Sherman, as he sunk back into the easy-chair which .his mother had fitted up with pillows for him to recline in. "Few ladies of her wealth and station would take such interest in a person almost a stranger, with nothing but poverty for an inheritance." And he sunk back into an uneasy slumber. CHAPTER XII. EDWARD SHERMAN DISCHARGED--THE RE- PORTER'S TALE. Anxiously did Louise Lorraine look into the columns of the evening-paper which came in a, little while aftei she re- turned home, to see if the report which Edward Sherman so dreaded was there. And a bitter sigh escaped her lips as she glanced at the heading of police-news, ifo at her first look she saw the name of him whom she loved with a love unsought, eve as it was unknown. The article was headed -"Depravity in a down-town merchant' clerk." It went on to state that a rather seedy-looking individual, having all the marks of a broken-down gentleman, who' gave his name as Edward Sherman, and wh was a clerk in the great importing-house o the well-known merchant, Mr. Wedgewood had been arrested for drunkenness and dis orderly conduct in the street. he was firs seen by the police-officer coming out of celebrated gambling-house in Broadway, ne Bleecker, and was in such a state that th police-officer had great difficulty in gettin him to the station-house, and had to call ai to do it. When arraigned before the magis trate, the prisoner, only partially recovere from his debauch, and presenting a most lu gubrious appearance, attempted to deny hav ing been intoxicated, and told a cock-and bull story about having been drugged. Bu his Honor saw through the dodge, so ofte tried, and relying upon the statement of th well-known and very efficient policeman wh arrested the young man, fined him ten dollar for the offence, and lectured him severel upon his shameful conduct. The prisoner who appeared glad to get off so easily, pai the fine, and was discharged. When o leading merchants have such dissolute me] in their employ, it is not to be wondered a that we hear of frequent defalcations." "Oh, Heavens, how this will lacerate poo Sherman's warm and noble heart!" crie Louise, as she dashed the paper upon the floor. "So bitter, so unjust, so vilely malig- nant. None but an enemy could pen such paragraph. If Mr. Wedgewood sees it, h will discharge the poor fellow, and he will be again adrift upon the world, as he was be- fore he went there. That must not be, I will go myself to Mr. Wedgewood and explain it to' him, so that he will not discharge the young man!" And Louise at once rang for a servant and ordered out her carriage. In another half hour she was in the private office of Mr. Wedgewood. The first thing 'which met her eye was the. hateful paper which contained the aiticle she had read. The merchant had been reading it, and laid down the paper as she entered. "Miss Lorraine?" said the merchant, inter- rogatively, as he glanced at the card which she had sent in when requesting an inter- view. "Yes, Sir-Louise Lorraine, daughter of Mrs Elise Lorraine, of the Fifth Avenue 1" she replied. "I am glad to see you, Miss Lorraine. I have heard my nephew,. Anson Demarest, speak very highly of you. Can I serve you in any way?" "Yes, Sir, I think-I-at least I hope you can!" said the young lady, blushing with embarrassment." "I see you have just laid the evening-paper down-did you read the police-news 'in it, Sir?" "I did, and I am ashamed to see my own name in it, brought there through the infam- ous conduct, of a clerk from whom I expected better things. But I have ordered my chief clerk to discharge the rascal, and not to allow him to ever again enter my establishment." "Pardon me, Sir; after you have heard what I have to say, you may reconsider your decision. It was upon the account of Edward Sherman that I came here this evening. I saw the article in the paper, and knew that you would be angry without knowing the true facts of the case, and I hastened down to state them, in hopes of saving for hinti a situation which he so much needs!" "I presume I know as much of the case as you do, Miss Lorraine, if not more. I do not think that you can say anything which will make the young man's conduct appear ex- cusable in my eyes!" replied the merchant, in a cold tone. "But, Sir, when I inform you that the young gentleman was not drunk, but drugged bysome secret enemy, you will not t so harshy of him 1" "That story Would not go down with the police-magistrate, neither will it with me, my dear young lady, I will tell you why. Yes- terday, I received a note from some unknown friend, telling me that this young man was an arrant hypocrite, and that he fiequented gambling-houses, and drank to excess very often when there. I was told, if there was doubt upon my mind, to put a watch on a certain well-known gambling house in Broad- way, and let that person see if he went there at night or not. The young man holding a very responsible desk here, fthought I would quietly see if my unknown correspondent was telling me truth or falsehood. The per- son whom } put on the duty not only saw him there, but saw him put out in a drunken state. I knew therefore of his misconduct even before this shameful report was print- ed!" "But, Mr. Wedgewood, he was enticed there, and then, drugged!" said Louise,' earnestly. "He had no business to be enticed there. Any man in my employ who ever enters a. gaming-house will be discharged the moment it comes to my knowledge 1" "Oh, Mr. Wedgewood, I believe, on my soul, he went there innocently, and that his whole misfortune is the result of a. conspiracy to ruin him 1" "I regret, Miss Lorraine, my inability to serve you by retaining him in my service, and I regret more to see you believe so en- tirely in his innocence, when his guilt has been so conclusively proved. For your sake, I shall make no claim upon him for wages thatJI advanced when I believed him to be all that he was represented to me." 4 God help him and his poor mother and sister I This will be a fearfully heavy blow to them," sighed poor Louise, and tears were streaming from heir eyes when she left the - office of the merchant. She had been gone but a very few moments when Anson Demarest was announced and admitted to the presence of his uncle. The brow of the merchant was clouded when his nephew came in. "That was a pretty fellow whom you rec- ommended to me so strongly for a situation, was he not Anson?" said-Mr. Wedgewood, coldly. "I mean that man Sherman." "I came here to see you about him, Sir," said Anson, in a very humble tone. ' He was recommended to me so highly by a young lady who, I thought, could not be mis- taken inhs good qualities, that I recommend- ed him on her word." "That young lady was Miss Lorraine, was she not?" "Yes, Sir." "I thought so. She has just bieet here to plead with me to retain him in hiB situation. But her visit was useless, His discharge has already been made out and sent to him by a. special messenger," I am glad to hear it, Sir. Only yesterday I became accidentally informed of hishabits and I at once wrote to you anonymously, ask- in you to have him watched, knowing well page: 24-25 (Illustration) [View Page 24-25 (Illustration) ] that if I had heard the truth, you would be sure to detect him before he could do'you any businest-injury " "Then that warning note came from you, did it " "Yes, Sir." "Well you did right, Anson, and I am obliged to you. I have found the fellow out in time, and in future'I would advise you to be careful how you take the recommenda- tions of young ladies for business-men. Miss Lorraine must be romantic, and rather smit- ten with this young man, by the way she pleads his cause." ' Most likely, Sir. I was rather taken with the young lady for a while; but, as you say, she is rather too romantic for a business-man to deal with. I shall visit her no more. If she likes this seedy adventurer so well, she 'had better give him a situation herself. He will soon be a public man, if he gets into the papers once or twice more. But you are busy, uncle, I will not remain in your way." "I am rather busy, nephew, but you are always welcome. Come whenever you can.' "Thank you, uncle, I will call when I know you are at leisure. I wlsh that I had ' been brought tip to business, for I think I should have liked it much. But father, you -know, always said I had fortune enough, and ' he would not listen to it while he was living, and I have passed the time' When I could serve a proper apprenticeship." "Yes, Anson; you are rather too'old to commence now. And you are well enough , off to get along without tying yourself down as I am tied to business. Marry well, and you will see more happiness than I ever have or shall." "I hope to marry well, or not at all, uncle. Good afternoon." And the chief villain of our story left the -presence of his wealthy uncle. CHAPTER xIm. THE CONSOLING ANGEL. "Poor Sherman! the messenger informing 'him of his discharge must have reached him before this time, and most likely he has seen that infamous article in the paper!" mur- -mured Louise Lorraine to herself as she re- entered her carriage, after leaving the pres- ence of the merchant. "What agony of mind 'he must be in I what terrible distress must his mother and sister feel! It may seem bold and'uniaidenly, but I feel as if I ought to go there and offer what consolation I can; my heart tells me that it will be right, and I need no other monitor in this case. He shall know 'that he has one true friend in the world, if all ,else desert him." And pulling the check-string of the car- t riage, she attracted the attention of the driver, and told him to drive up-town to the same house which she had visited. in the morning. It was a long drive; but the fine, blooded. horses soon measured the distance, and she was again in the presence of the unhappy clerk, and his mother and sister. "Do not think me intrusive," she said as she entered: "I know you will give me credit for kind feelings at least, when I come to tell you to cheer up, and not be disheartened. It. is ever darkest just before day, and your night will not be endless." "Ah I Miss Lorraine, you know not how great our misery is," said Mrs. Sherman. "' My son has' been discharged from employ- ment, in a, cruelly-insulting note." "I know it, my dear lady; I have just come from an interview with Mr. Wedge- wood, his employer. I saw that infamous falsehood in the paper, and knowing how it was calculated to prejudice a person like him, I hurried down to his counting-room to ex- plain the true facts of the case, and that your son was the victim of a conspiracy." "Oh, bless you! Heaven bless you, Miss Lorraine. I can never sufficiently thank you!". cried young Sherman. "He will re- tain me, will he not?" "Alas, no!" said Louise. "I could not convince him of your innocence. It appears that, yesterday, he got an anonymous letter, stating that you drank and visited gambling- houses, and advising him to have you watch- ed. He did so, and his spy saw you enter a house, which he says was a gambling-house, and also reported that he saw you come out drunk! It ws useless for me to tell him that you were a victim of a deep-laid and most fiendish conspiracy; he would not heed a word that I could say in your behalf l" "Merciful Heaven! then there is no hope," groaned the wretched young man. "The veTy fact of an anonymous letter, so basely false in its statements concerning me, having been sent to Mr. Wedgewood, proves that this has been a deep-laid plan for my ruin. Oh I who-who could be so base as to do it. Never in my life have I, to my knowledge, injured a human being. And this infamous article in the paper, which I cannot make them retract, will ruin all chances of my get- ting another situation." "No, it shall not," cried Louise. "I have frlends-powerful friehds, and I will use them in your behalf. Feel easy in your mind, and try to rest to-night, and you will-be better in health in the morning. This wrong will yet be found out, and the one who has been guilty will be punished. A just Providence willfollow the wicked contriver and expose him." "For myself, I would not care so much. I page: 26-27[View Page 26-27] could enter the Army as a private soldier, and find, at least, an honorable death. But I can- not leave these poor feeble ones alone to struggle with a wintry and heartless world," I said Sherman; and he glanced pitifully at his weeping mother and sister. "You must not, for a moment, think of 'leaving them," said Louise, her voice trem-. bling with emotion. "Woman though I am, i I have power enough to crush that. foul slan- t der, which has been published against you, whenever it is spoken. I will take it upon t myself to find you a better situation than the one you have lost. And, now, do not say a E word, for I will take no denial; you must let ] me be your banker until you are again earn- 1 ing money. Accept a loan from me until 1 then." ' And Louise. laid a well-filled portemonnaie on the table. "' Oh! Miss Lorraine, this is being too kind, too generous. Your sympathy and 'gentle. words of hope and consolation are more than we can ask; for them we sincerely thank you, but pecuniary obligation is more than we can bear. I am strong, and not despair- ing, and can*at least earn a support for those I love." And Edward Sherman took up the porte- monnaie and handed it back to the lady. "I do not mean to pain or mortify you by my offer; you know not how much good it will do me to help you," said Louise, earnest- ly. . Do let me assist you. I do not speak it- boastingly, but I am abundantly able." "We thank you for your willingness to aid us; and when we really need it, you will be the only friend we will call Upon," said the young man, his eyes. moist with feeling. "But. at present, we are not in need, without Mr. Wedgewood demands back the money he advanced without my asking it." "That, he told me, he would not do." "Nevertheless, when I am again in em- ployment, I will pay it back to him, and prove to him yet how unjustly he has treated me. I believe, as you do, that a just Provi- dence will aid me to discover the orgin of this wrong, and that light will follow all this darkness." "I am glad, Mr. Sherman, to hear you say so. Hope is a most powerful re-enforcement, and with it you will surely win the day. Now, do take the advice of a sincere friend, and be cheerful. Your restoration to health, which is so all-important, depends upon that. And now I must go home; for I have been absent all day, and my nervous mamma may have missed me 1" And 'aid the thanks and blessings of irs. Sherman and her daughter, our heroine re- treated to her carriage, ordering the driver to hurry home. CHAPTER XIV. THE FIFTH-AVENUE HOUSE "CRIBBED". Where on earth have you been all day, Louise?" said' Mrs. Lorraine, when her daughter, weary and jaded, returned to the house in Fifth avenue. "Absent on business, mother 1" said Louise, in her usual quiet way.. "You could not have missed me much, while you had that precious Silk with you." "There it is-another fling at my poor lit- tle pet. You have no heart, Louise, has she Silk. I know she don't like you, but you are a darling for all that. I wanted you here, Louise, so bad; for Mr. Crib was here on business, and you know I hate and detest business. He had a splendid offer for this house, and a chance to exchange for some elegant lots away up-town, enough land to build a magnificent house on, and have a lawn all around it, and a carriage-way, and a flower-garden in the rear. 1 wanted your advice about selling; but, as usual, when most wanted you were absent, and I had to act upon my own judgment and his advice. He is a dear, smart man, so well-behaved, so respectful, and above all so very well dressed!" "You surely did not authorize him to sell this house, which my dear father has built with so much' care, and at such great ex- pense!" exclaimed Louise, intensely excited. "I surely did; with everything in it, fur- uiture and all; for in our new house we must have new furniture."; ' Mother, mother; are you really insane?" "Not a bit of it, Louise. No indeed; am I,Silk?' Your mistress isn't crazy, is she? No. ' I knew you'd say 'no'!" "But, mother, your actions say ' yes'. I hope and pray that you'will at once send for that lawyer and forbid him doing anything of the kind." "It is too late, Louise, even if I wanted to, ever so much. The purchaser wanted an answer to his offer right away, as he thought of purchasing elsewhere. - And Mr. Crib has before this probably given him the answer, and sold the house. But'I made it a con- dition that we were to remain in it long enough to have our new house built and fur- nished." "Oh, mother, you will never rest satisfied until that shark of a lawyer has utterly ruined us!" "Poh,poh, child. A man that dresses so well as he does, never could be dishonest. It is only such seedy,.miserable-looking fel- lows as that fellow Sherman, that you've been so kind to, that turns out to be a ras- cal l" "Mother, mother, I have no patience with you " . page: 28-29[View Page 28-29] "You never had, child; but that matters little to me. I have got used to you. Haven' , Silk. See how he nods his head 'yes'. the pet, the darling i " "What do you inteod to do with the money he is to get for the house?" "Why, use it, and more too, in building another one; a handsome one, in a more e: clusive and select neighborhood, ou little goose!" said Mrs. Lorraine. "He has al- ready seen our architect, and plans are to be submitted to me in a day or two. He thinks that a plan like the Westminster Palace, an engraving of which he. showted me, would be just the' thing, and so aristocratic." "Humbug! Mother, suppose my dear father was to come home and find his iavorit house sold. What do you think he would say?" "Your father, child! It is you that -is crazy I Yes, crazy to think of such a thing. The poor man is dead and buried long ago., e neaer wwill be troubled about property any moore." b "-I am notso sure of that, mother. I have heard something which gives me reason to believe that he is yet living!" "Living Oh, child, how you shock me You do not mean it, I know ou do not." "But I do, mother. Andyr am 'promised t that I shall have proof that he is living, be- lore long." Oh no-no--don't say that! Why, he has been gone so long I never could get used to him ageain Oh, I hope and pray that he will never appear again. "Woman, can you be my mother? I hard- ly dare to believe it, when I hear you speak tl so coldly, so meanly, Pof my poor, dear t ather ." And, disgusted, Louise turned away and m lefts theroom. I CHAPTER XV. BAD nIEWS FO MR;. CRIB---TE .IBUBBLE BUlRSTS. It was three days later. Mr' Crib sat in his easy-chair, looking the very picture of contentment. Before him was a large pile of of stock-certificates, and in his and was a en "flaming" handbill-to use a printerial he Phlrase e-announcing to the world-the exist- ence of: "The Sierra Nevada Gold Mining La Company-Paul Pettigrew, President; Elna- bet than Crib, Vice-Presi ent, and Gilbert Gar- M nay, Treasurer." "Rich-very rich, devilish rich! That is what you- are going to be, Mr. Crib!" said he nol to himself, and he gleefully rubbed his fat to hands together. ", That Anson )emarest is a prince-yes, a king of good fellows." te "1 Mr. Dem'rest wants to see you, Sir,"-' a ers' squeaked Johnny. Dingle, the office-boy, at 'n't that moment. O "Think of the devil and he is sure to turn up," said Mr. Crib, parenlthetically. Then iey in a louder tone he said: "Invite him in at once. Isam always ' in' ug when Mr. Demarest calls. Understand e:- that." tie "Yes, Sir," squeaked the boy as he van- ai- ished in'his usual shadowy way. be The next moment, Mr. 'Demarest came in. ks He appeared to .be unusually flushed, very an much excited. . He did not wait for the be usual ceremonial salutations of the day, but, thr rowing himself breathlessly into a chair, ar he cried: teo "Mr. Crib,I 'am ruined, ruined! That ed scoundrel Garnay. Curse him, I will fol- low him to the very uttermost ends of the is earth!" "Garnay? Why, he is the treasurer of o.3,our company. What has he done?" cried y Crib, turning pale with apprehension. "Absconded, Sir; absconded, with every 'e dollar of'mine that I have been so weak as' o to place in his hands, all of the company- funds, too,Sir; and he has the utter heart- ! lessness, in a farewell-note, to say that the deed of the gold-land wa ' merely a fraud; I that there is no such land, and he merely in- - vented the tale' to gull me out of monlle enough to make him independent for life i' e eisery! Where has the rascal gone to?, "I Eie has left the country in a fast-s ililn yacht, bought with my money--our money I mean, for you too are a sufferer." "Ihank God! not a very great one," said the lawyer. I only invested the money of Mrs. Lorraine and another client of mine, a widow who had unbounded confidence in me. But they are-ruined. It will kill them. It is hard, infernal hard; I may say, devilish hard. Has the wretch ruined you, Mr. Dem- arest 2" ( "Not entirely. But he has taken an im- mense amount.: I scarcely know how much yet. My real estate is safe, and I have yet some stock and money'in bank. And, thank Heaven I he had no power to ruin the fortunes of those whose heir I am. But he has done enough to hang him. If ever I can reach him he shall suffer." ' "The villain. What can I say to Mrs. Lorraine? Poor womanl she is reduced to beggary, for I paid over every dollar of her money for this stock.. Garnay has it all--the money you paid for the house and all." "That is unfortunate. Her daughter will not be such a taking match as she was thought tob before."'. "No; no indeed. It will go hard with them, terribly hard: I must say, devilish hard" "It is a pity. But we are all sufferers in common. I never was so disappointed in a man in my life as I have been in Garnay, I would have trusted my life in his hands, not to speak of money. I must go now and see if I can learn where he has sailed to. We may yet recover something." "Not likely, if he has cleared himself. I may say, it is devilish unlikely," said Mr. Crib. And he did not on this occasion accom- pany Mr. Demarest down to the street, as usual, a thing which was noticed in a moment by Johnny Dingle. "I reckon the Gov'nor don't find Mr. Del'rest as fat as he thought he would," he squeaked, as he saw the young gentleman go out alone, and his master pass, a few mo- ments alter, his face as black as a thunder- cloud. -- CHAPTER XVI. THE AGENT AND HS REPORTS AGAIN. When Anson Demarest returned home, he found Mr. McDaniels waiting for him. "Well, what news?" he asked. "'Has Sherman got a situation yet?" "No, Sir. He has tried several places, but his police-affair has been made known at each, and his chances killed Miss Lorraine has intelested herself for him, but in vain, for I have checkmated her efforts." "Good! She will soon find that she has enough to do to take 'care of herself. Her mother Iiha made a bad investment of her money, and is now on the point of beggary." The man smiled, for he knew well how the beggaly had been produced. "Have you seen Sherman's landlord?" continued Demarest. "Yes, Sir.. He is about to act.' There is a quarter's rent nearly due, and I doubt if Sher- man hlas the money to pay. He will have it to pay in some way, however, if it takes his furniture, for the landlord is a severe man. He has already given him notice to leave, on the hints which I gave him." "Good! Miss Lorraine will have some- rhing more to interest herself about. Her , protege will hate tough work to find a new home.' I think, as she and her mother will have to leave the house they are now in be- fore long, the two families had better join for- tunes as well as misfortunes, and rent some far up-town shed together." "Mr. Demarest, you are the bitterest hater that I ever knew, and my line of business has thrown me into the way of people who hate hard enough, the Lord knows!" said the agent. '"As I told you before, I have no half-way feelings. Nothing short of the utter uin of these people will serve my end. Keep up to your marlr all the time, lMr. McDaniels; let no opportunity to annoy them escape you. When they are so beggared that they will come to me for help, then I shall be partially satisfied." "I think the Shermans are not far from it now!" said McDaniels. "I saw the datgh- ter going home with a bundle of unmade clothing in her arms this morning, and that is the kind of work women can starve the easiest upon. A woman who can earn two loaves of bread a day, at the Chathami-street prices, has nimble fingers indeed., It is no wonder that, in spite of so many deaths among the poor women who live there, the ranks of the unfortunates keep filled up, when labor is so poorly paid, and a sinful life is the best supported 1!" "Don't get to moralizing, Mr. McDaniels, or I shall doubt your strength to carry out my plans!" "Never fear for that, Mr. Demarest. I must have money, and you pay with a liber- ality which would stifle conscience, if I had any." CHAPTER XVII. THE WOLF AT THE DOOR-THE SERVICE MAY GAIN A IECRUIT. "Mother, mother, do not weep so despair- ingly!" said Maggie Sherman, throwing her white arms about the neck of her sobbing mother. ".Brother will surely succeed in getting a place to-day, and to-night I shall have my work finished, and early to morrow- morning 1 will get the money for it." "That will be but a trifle!" sighed Mrs. Sherman. "Our gleam of good fortune makes this misfortune seem all the darker. We have no money to pay our rent, and if our furniture is seized, it will hardly be enough. And' where are we to find a new home? Without we have plenty of furhi- ture, rent will be demanded in advance, and we have no money to pay it. There is your brother's knock at the door--go and let hinl in. I can hardly bear to look upon his face. This new trouble has changed him fearfully." The young girl went to the door, and in a few moments came back with her brother. He was, indeed, changed in appearance. His aark eyes were sunken and hollow; his face was very pale, and he trembled from exceed- ing weakness. "What fortune to-day, my son?" asked 'Mrs. Sherman, who had dried her eyes, and who now tried to look composed in the pres- ence of her only hope. "'No fortune--nothing but misfortune," groaned the young man. "Nothing else seems in store for us. My relentless enemy, whoever he is, seems to anticipate every movement I make. No matter where I go, the news of my disgrace isjthere as soon as I; . page: 30-31[View Page 30-31] and of the hundreds of situations which are advertised, I cannot get one. I see nothing before me but to enlist. I can get a bounty which will enable you and sister to live com- fortably for a year or more, and I can save all my pay, trifling as that will be, for the same purpose." "O my son-that thought is killing to me. If you go into the Army, the same sad fortune will follow you, and where death comes to so many, you will be sure to fall; and then what would become of poor Maggie and me!" "What will become of you as it is, mother, I must pay the rent to-morrow, or our furni- ture will be seized; and when that is gone, aid we have no house to go to, what will be- come of us Money I must have, or we will be thrown upon beggary or the almshouse." "Brother, do you forget how earnestly that sweet Miss Lorraine begged you to come to her for aid?" said Maggie. "No, sister, but I cannot bear to be under greater obligations to her than we now are. You know how much trouble she has taken in endeavoring to get me a situation already; and how many cruel rebuffs she has met, I know." "But she would be dreadfully hurt if she knew our trouble, and did not callupon her." "If she did know it, sister, we would have no need to call upon her. We will risk one more day; there will be new situations ad- vertised in the morningpapers, and I will try once more toget one. If do not, painful as it will be to leave you, I must enlist. I can get over four hundred dollars in bounty, cash down, and that will pay our rent and put you safely into other quarters further down-town, where you can use your needle more leisure- ly, and-keep ahead of want, at least, until I am back with you once more." "Edward, if you leave us, you will never return to us again-my heart tells me so. If yougo, you go to die," said Mrs. Sherman. "Mother, you must rot think so. I feel tired and will go to bed " "Without supper? There is yetsomething left to eat in the house 1" "I am not hungry, dear mother. I need rest far more than food. Good night!' '"Good night-God bless you, my dear boy!" said the widow, sighing. "Mother, I am going to stop and see Miss Lorraine when I come back from the qloth- ing-store in the morning. It will be theonly way to keep brother from enlisting!" said Maggie, when he was gone. "I fear it will, dear child-I fear it will!" "I will not let him know of the visit. It will be the first thin Athat I ever kept from his knowledge, but it is not wrong when I do it to save his feelings"I ' "' 'No-that is so, my good daughter. Shall , I not get some supper for you 9" "No, dear mother. We can save what we - have until morning-it will only make a good a breakfast, and brother will be with us to:en- joy it!" "But child, even with my feeble help it will take you four or five hours yet to finish those I clothes!" I No matter, mother. We will talk of the days when we knew no care, and it will short- en the time; when I feel hungry, I will take a big drink of water, and that will drown my craving for the time. I have done so before, you know!" "Poor girl, you were beginning to grow really beautiful once more, when we thought we were fiee from poverty and trouble. Now you will grow thin in form and haggard in face again. Poverty is a cruel foe to beauty " And the lady, sighing, took her needle in hand and went to work on one of the gar- ments. CHAPTER XVIII THE TROUBLE REACHES THE FIFTH AVETUE AT LAST... Mrs. Lorraine was not yet up, but Oer daughterLouise was in the family sitting-room when Mr. Crib called to see the former lady, after he had heard the startling news which Anson Demarest had imparted to him. "Show the gentleman in!" she said to the servant. "and then go and tell my mother that I desire to see her as soon as possible."- : For she was determined this time to see the lawyer herself, and prevent the sale of the house and furniture, if it could be done. In a minute or two more, Mr. Crib came into the room, bowing very low, as usual, and hoping that he found Miss Lorraine well. Was her mother at home? "My mother is not yet down from her chamber," said Louise.' "She retires late and rises late. But I have sent for her, and she will'soon be here. Pray be seated, Sir!" "She will rise early enough to hear the news I have to give her!" said the lawyer, with a very long face and a profound Sigh. It is bad, exceedinglyy bad, I beg your pardon, but I must say that it is devilish bad!" I hope then that you have come to tell her that you could not sell the house. That may be bad news to her, but it will be good news to me!" said Louise. "I wish for her sake that I had not sold the house. It is sold, and all the money for it and all the rest I invested for her in the Sierra Nevada gold-stock,which has gone to thunder! The treasurer of the company has absconded with every cent of the money, and the stockis only worth the paper it is printed on '" "What, Sir?' Do you speak -the truth? Have you squandered my mother's property? Are you such a hardened villain as to come here and acknowledge. that you have done SO?" "Villain is a hard name to call a gentle- man, Miss Lorraine-a devilish hard name, even if I must say so, and one which I could make you sorry for using-verry sorry-dev- ilish sorry, if I must say so!" "And what better are you, when you per- suade my poor, credulous, weak-minded mo- ther to trust in your judgment and honor, if honor a Wall-street lawyer can have, and then invest all that she has in a way to lose it! I suppose we are little better than beggars now?" "Very little " muttered the lawyer, who was both nervous and angry. "May I ask who was the purchaser of this house?"' "Certainly, Miss Lorraine. I believe you are acquainted with him. It was Mr. Anson Demarest t" "Anson Demarest?" cried Louise. "Then this has been an organized plot for our ruin. I refused his hand, and the dastardly wretch has taken this method to be revenged. Had he not something to do with this gold-stock you have been telling about?" "He lost immensely in it, if that is any sat- isfaction to you, Miss " "I do not believe it. He is, you say, the owner of-this house!" "He is!" "And we are literally only tenants at his will?" "It is so!" "If, Sir, it is so, and there is no legal right to keep us here, we will not long remain here; for I would work my fingers to the bone-yes, I would starve, before I would owe him the slightest favor! But, mark me, Mr, Crib, your conduct in thb Lhatter shall be closely looked into. I am not quite so easy as my poor mother-not quite so cred- ulous, and I can see through the mask of a villain as quickly if he is well ressed as I could if he was in rags and tatters. I believe you are a swindler, Sir, and if I can prove it, you shall not go unpunished!" "What is the matter, Louise-why are you talking so harshy to my good friend, Mr. Crib?" said Mrs. Lorraine, who had entered the room while Louise was speaking, in loud vehemence, the words we have just recorded. "Your good friend!" cried Louise, bitter- ly. "Your good friend has thrown away ev- ery dollar you had in the world, and reduced you to beggary I warned you not to trust n him, and now you see what he has brought you to!" "What does the girl mean? Has she gone [ crasy?" asked Mrs. Lorraine, appealing with looks as well as words to Mr. Crib. "Not crazy, but considerably excited. I may with propriety say, devilishy excited 1" said Mr. Crib. "But, Sir, she does not speak the truth about the property, does she?" "When she says that your property is gone to smash, Mrs. Lorraine, she does speak the truth. When she says that it is my fault, she does not. The Sierra Nevada stock is worse than worthless, for the treasurer has run off with all' the money, and it appears that the deed of the/ land was a forgery. You and another of my most respectable clients are utterly ruined by it 1" "Oh my! I shall faint-I shall die! You have. not sold this house, have you?" "I sold it, and all your furniture and equi- pages, according to your own advice, Madam, so that you could purchase new, as you de- sired!" said the lawyer, growing more calm. "I have your power of attorney, authorizing all I have done, and I have in no way over- stepped legal bounds!" "O Lord! what will I do-what will I do!" screamed Mrs. Lorraine, giving strong symptoms of hysteric convulsions. " Do, mother? Go with me and see an honest lawyer, if one can be found, and see if this shark cannot be made to disgorge some of his stealings!" cried Louise. "Miss Lorraine, I would have you know that the words you use are actionable-ac- tionable, do you hear? and you will find it out before long. ] will not remain here any longer to be abused; and if your mother wish- es to know any more about her business, she can call on me, not I on her.' She knows where my office is!" ?And the lawyer flirted out of the room just as a servant came in to announce that Miss Maggie Sherman had called to see Miss Lor- raine; "Tell her to go away, 'the low vulgar thing 1" screamed Mrs. Lorraine. "We never wanted to see su-'. trash here before, much less now 1" "Tell her no such thing!' cried Louise, sternly, to the servant. "Speak to her in the most respectful manner, and show her to my chamber, and tell her I will see her there in a moment." "Louise-Louise, you will drive me mad --indeed you will!" cried Mrs. Lorraine. "What have you to do with beggarly peo- ple?" "What more are we, mother, if that law- yer has spoken the truth? And I only fear that he has! Now, 'try to calm yourself. I will see her, and then I will come and see what we are to do in the property-matter. I dO not think things can be quite as bad as page: 32-33 (Illustration) [View Page 32-33 (Illustration) ] that man makes them out. We will soon find out, at any rate!" "Well, if you must see her, go; but send Celestine down with my fan and salts, and tell her to bring poor Silk also, if he has been washed. What will, the poor pet do, if we are indeed poor?" Louise made no reply, but left the room. CHAPTER XIX. MAGGIE'S VISIT NOT FRUITLESS. Miss Lorraine saw in a moment, when she entered her chamber and looked upon poor Maggie Sherman's pale and wobegone face, that serious trouble alone had -brought her there. Advancing, she greeted her with an affectionate kiss, and asked how she had left all at home. "I left mother very early, but brother had already gone out in search of employment, his vain errand for so many days " said. Maggie. . "I had to go down to Chatham street with some clothes I had been making, and I thought I would call here when brother would not know it; for he would not hear to my coming When I spoke of it last night. He lfels as it we had troubled you too much already!" "Oh, he must not feel so. I could not do- too much for him or for you. Alas, I can do but little now; for a scoundrel, I fear, has robbed my mother and reduced her to poverty. You wanted last night to come and see me, Maggie dear. What was it for? Tell me without, reserve, even as you would tell a sister!"- "Oh, I wish you were my sister " said Maggie, tearfully. "If you are in trouble, I ought not to burden you with our sorrows!" :"Yes, you must tell me, or I shall feel real- ly hurt, Miaggie." "Well, Miss Louise, if 1 must, I will. Brother Edward says, if he does riot get a situation to-day, he will enlist in the Army. Our rent is due. to-day, and the landlord threatens to take our furniture if it is not paid, and he says we must find another house i to live in, right away-we can live where we are no longer. Brother does not know that ] I meant to tell you-he would scold me if he ] did. I have got two dollars for the work which mother and I have been a we4ek in 3 doing, working late every night. And that 1 is all we have to pay the rent with and to live on!" "How much is the rent that is due?" asked ] Louise. "Fifty dollars-the whole quarter," said i Mtaggie. "Well, I am glad that it is no more," said I Louise, cheerfully. "Here, my dear lMfaggie, ] are two fifty-dollar bills. I am glad that I I , L have so much on hand, saved from my shopping-money. It is not all that I have;. don't look scared, as if you meant to run away. Take it, and pay the rent yourself and get a receipt; and when your brother comes home, show him the receipt and tell him that I beg he will not enlist. I may need a friend near me soon, and. I trust no one so. much as I do him. The other fifty dollars will help you in renting a new home under a more ac- commodating landlord. Now, don't say a word, but run right away and do as I tell you;.. and as soon as you are settled, come and tell me where you live, so that I can go and see you." "I will, dear Miss Louise, I will-!" said. Maggie, sobbing even in her happiness. And she hurried'away, for no words which she could frame would have expressed half her real gratitude. "I will do good while I can," said .Louise, with a sigh, after she was gone. "For Heaven only knows how soon I may stand in need of kindness. If we are indeed robbed of all our property, I have jewelry which will be useless to me, and with that, and the use I can make of some of my educational accomplishments, I can manage, to support myself and my mother. For fknow her too well to think she will do anything but to whine and moan over her misfortunes. There is no- independence-no true womanly cour- age about her. Oh, if my father does yet live, I hope he will be'able soon to come to us. For he was resolute and energetic, and would soon see into the nature of our wrongs; for that wrong has been done us, I am cer- tain. I hope mother has got calmed down now, for we must take steps to investigate this matter. I will go and see her." Mrs. Lorraine was but little more calan when Louise reached the sitting-room, but she had recovered sufficiently to press her lapdog to her bosom and to mourn over the sufferings he must endure if they were indeed poor. "' Oh, how can I do without servants? How can I spare Celestine?" she murmured, as Louise took a seat near her. "I have had her to dress me so long, I should not know how to it myself!" "I can aid you, mother. If we have no money to pay her, your dressing-maid must be discharged, of course." "And poor Silk, how he will miss his air- ings in the parkl He will get so dirty, if he runs in the street, and I am sure I can never walk out. Oh, how can I live without a carriage!" "As others do, mother, who are just as good in God's eyes as we are, and who have never had carriages to ride in. We may yet have to study where and how to get bread, page: 34-35[View Page 34-35] and luxuries which we can dispense with- should be our last thought!" "O dear, I shall die, I know I shall!" moaned the unhappy woman. "Oh, do not be so despondent, mother. I am going myself this afternoon to see a prominent lawyer, and I will have him look closely into this whole affair. I believe Mr. Crib is a rascal, and has robbed you, thinking you will tamely bear it. I will show him that we are not going to sit down in meek suffering and be Flor without knowing why" . "Well, do as you please, child; I am too miserable and nervous to do anything?" "Have you any ready money in your purse, Mother?" Yes, child; two or three hundred dollars, I think!" "Let me have it mother, for a retaining-fee must be paid, I believe, to all lawyers before they will touch a case. And as Mar. Anson Demarest has not yet appeared to claim the house or the carriage, I shall use a carriage for this afternoon at least, and before I return I may know whether his right to them is good or not!" "Mr. Anson Demarest! Is he the pur- chaser of the house and things?" cried Mrs. Loriaine, brightening up. "Yes; so Mr. Crib informed me?" "Then it will not be so bad, after all, may be. I should not wonder if he bought them, because you refused him the other day, and means to' offer them back to us, with himself to you once more!" cried Mrs. Lorraine. "And do you think that for a hundred houses like this I would listen to his suit?" said Louise, scornfully. "Why not? You were very foolish to re- fuse him in the first place! He is rich, good- looking, and dresses elegantly. I only wish he would offer himself to you again, I would not let you refuse him " . . "Mother, you simply disgust me! I have no patience to talk to you. You have neither spirit nor pride I I will go and try to save what can be saved, and then I will go out into the world and earn my living before I will live with a mother who cares not for my feelings or my honor!" And the proud-spirited girl left the room, her eyes flashing the indignation that she felt. CHAPTER XX. A LANDLORD AGREEABLY DISAPPOINTED. When Maggie Sherman reached home, she entered only the moment after the land- lord had gone in, and heard him rudely ask her mother if that rent-money was ready yet. "My son and daughter are both out, after money. I can give you no answer until one or both of them return t" said Mrs. Sher- man. "I am here, and have the money, mother!" said little Maggie. "'If the landlord will please sit down and write out a receipt, I will pay himthe rent with pleasure!" And she put paper, pen, and ink on the table, and pointed to it, as, she took the money from her bosom. "This is better than I was led to expect. Are you sure' the money is good " said the landlord, in a grumbling tone. "Yes, Sir; there would no bad money come from the person from whom I got it. Look for yourself!" The landlord examined the bill particular- ly, then saying that it was good, put it in his pocket and signed the receipt. "I suppose you'll be ready to move out of here, by to-morrow?" he said, as he rose from the chair. "I do not know if my son has found a place to go to, yet or not, Sir!" saik rs. Sherman. "May I ask why you are in such a hurry for us to leave when the rent is paid?" "I dislike to say it, Madam, but you ask, and of comuse should be answered. I have been informed that the conduct of your son, if not of others in the house, is highly im- moral." "Oh, Sir-it is'a vile slander. A more quiet and better behaved mai does not exist than my son is I And no mortal can speak the trutk and speak ill of me or my daughter. We are poor, and that is our only crime!" "Well, well, it may be so, but complaints have reached me, and I must take notice of them. You must move as soon as possible. I will let you stay to-morrow without charge, but not a day longer!" "You need not fear that we will stay any longer, Sir, we have money to rent new lodgings with!" said Maggie, in a spirited tone.' "We will not remain here. another day!" "Very well - that is all that I want!" said the landlord, and he went away. "Did Miss Lorraine help you, daughter?" asked Mrs. Sherman, as soon: as they were left alone. "Yes, dear mother, and she was in trouble herself. I did not mean to tell her of our troubles after I found out that she was in. trouble; but she would have it all out of me, and then she made me take a hundred dollars to pay the old rent, and to get a new place to. live in. And she told me to beg Edward not to enlist, for she was afraid she would soon need a true friend near her, and she trusted him more than any one she knew." "What was her trouble, my child?" "She expects that her mother has been robbed of all her property. She did not tell' page: 36-37[View Page 36-37] me the particulars; but I know that she felt very bad, and I could see by the looks and actions of the servants that things were going very wrong in 'the house!" "Oh, I hope that she, so noble-hearted, will not have to taste of the bitter waters of pov- erty. "I pray she may not. Oh, mother, I love her so dearly. I could work for her day and night!" t How much money did you get for the work, child?" . "Only two dollars, mother, and the man grumbled at giving me that, and said that the work was poorly done." "Two dollars I How men can think people can work and live on what will hardfy buy dry bread for food, is more than I can see. But it is better than nothing. We must have something for Edward to eat when he comes home. He has eaten so little for days past, that he must be almost famished!" "You need nourishing food, too, mother. Let me go out to the grocery and buy what I krodw you need!' - You may do so, my dear child, but do not be extravagant. Every cent is precious, in our situation!" 4 I will be careful, mother, and get what will do'us the tnost good at the least cost! A little bit of ham and a pound of butter, and some nice fresh bread at the bakery as I come back. And if you will let me, a few eggs to eat with the ham. Edward likes them you know!" "They are extravagant for us!" said the mother, with a sigh. "]But do as you like, my love. We have been so fortunate in getting enough to pay this Jew of a landlord that I feel almost rich! But hurry, child, so that we can have supper ready for Edward when lie comes!" "1 will,-'dear mother; i will. And Maggie hurriedly put on her bonnet acd went after materlals to appease the hunger which was gnawing at the vitals of her parent as well as herself. Ah, how many, reader, in this great city, will go hungTy to comfortless beds on the v ery niight when you may be reading these lines! If you are able, oh, remember and aid the poor when you can. for they are the real sufierers in this icy world of ours. CHAPTER XXI. CrIB HAS LAW IF NOT RIGHT ON HS SIDE. Louise, having formed her determination to see at once if the statement of Elnathan Crib had any truth in it, arid if it had, if there were no means of redress within reach, at once proceeded in a carriage to the office of one of the mobt reputable and distinguished lawyers in the city. Fortunately, she found Mr. Gerham in, and she at once laid her case before him, offering a retaining-fee, which, much to his credit, he refused to take in that stage of the business. He listened to her story attentively, and when she had told all that she knew, he said: "I know the man Crib, slightly. He is a blot upon our profession-keen, unscrupu- lous, but generally sufficiently careful in his proceedings to evade all criminal prosecution. But he may have overreached himself in this case. If you will remain here for a half- hour or so, Miss Lorraie, I v;ill go and see if he has proceeded with any regularity and registered the power of attorney which your mother was so foolish as to give him. If that and the other papers are recorded, and drawn up in due form and witnessed, I am afraid he has been too sharp indeed. Please remain here until I return. You will be entirely un- disturbed, and if you can find any amuse- ment in glancing at the dry volumes in a lawyer's library, do so." And the lawyer. hastened out upon his errand. , Louise did not feel inclined to read law just then, so she sat in the great arm-chair in which the gentleman left her, and pondered over the course she must take if she was in- deed to live a life of poverty thenceforward. She. was an accomplished musician, sang well, and was a proficient on both the piano and harp. She was a good French and Italian scholar, apt in embroidery and fancy- work. Certainly, she thought, with her inde- pendence of mind and character, she could find employment and keep up above suffer- ing in some way. The only drawhack would be her weak-minded mother, whose whining and mercenary disposition. she knew too well. She formed plan after plan in her mind, and even scribbled out two or three forms of advertisement for employment before' the lawyer returned. When he came in, his face was grave, and she knew in an instant that he had no good news for her. She told him so. "You are" right, Miss Lorraine!" said he. "The fellow has proceeded with a regularity which keeps law on his side, so far as I can see. The' deeds, transfers of property and sales are duly recorded, as well as the power of attorney by which he has acted. Your mother has acted with unpardonable' weak- ness in intrusting too much to so bad a man." "Then is there no hope of retaining any of our property?" asked Louise. - "At present I can see none," said Mr. Ger- ham. But I will put a keen detective on the watch of both Crib and Mr. Anson Demarest. I may find out their game and discover the. secret of their villainy. If I do, the fear ol detection and punishment may make them disgorge. I hope so, for your sake,' Miss Lorraine, but at present I will not try to en- courage you." Louise sighed and rose, to go, first again tendering a fee to the kind lawyer. This he gently and politely refused, saying that he would make no charge until he would be of real service to her, and also requesting her to keep him informed of her address, so that if any important discovery was made by the detective, she could at once be informed of it. This. Louise promised to do, and then she left the good lawyer's office with a heavy heart indeed. Entering the carriage, she ordered the driver to hasten home. And even the word "home" sounded hollow from her lips, for alas! it was to be home no longer to her. As the caririage stopped before the door of her residence, she saw Anson Demarest de- scending the steps; and as his eye met. hers, there was a look of triumphant malice on his face, which told plainly that hate had usurped the place of the love he had once professed to feel for her. Anxious to know what he had been doing or saying, she hurried into the house. CHAPTER XXII. WAITING-WAITING-BUT HE COMES NOT. A nice and tempting supper was prepared by Mrs. Sherman and her daughter fi'om the materials purchased by Maggie, and they waited-long and patiently for Edward Sher- man to come home and join them, over it. Long indeed, "counting the strokes of the clock-bell as it struck eight, nine, and even ten -and yet he did not come. The supper re- mained untasted, though they both were hun- gry, for they could not bear to eat without he -the beloved son and brother-was present to share in the pleasure. "What can keep him so long, mother?" asked Maggie,. with a sigh. "Everything that we have tried to keep warm has dried up and is almost spoiled. What can keep him away so late to-night?" "1 cannot imagine," said Mrs. Sherman, sadly; "I fear, oh! I fear so much that he has again met with some trap for his ruin!" "He may have enlisted, mother." "Oh! I pray God he has not. The coun- try has need of. men, but surely it can spare to the poor widow her only son and her sole support." A heavy knock at the door, at that instant, so startled both mother and daughter that for a molqent they were powerless to move, and it was not until the knock was repeated, even louder than before, that they summoned cour- age enough to go together to the door. Upon opening it, they saw a man with an express- badge upon his cap, who asked: "Is this Mrs. Sherman?" "That is my name, Sir," said the lady, ev- ery nerve in a tremor. "I have a'package here, a money-package, for you; please to put your name in my re- ceipt-book, and take it," said the man. "A money-package? From whom does it come?" asked Mrs. Sherman. "I don't know, Ma'am; 'twas left at our of- fice for delivery to-night, or I shouldn't have been sent out after business-hours. Please to 'sign the receipt, here is a pencil, I ami in a hurry." And the man handed his book and pencil to the trembling woman. "Maggie, sign my name for me; my hand trembles so that I cannot," said the poor woman. Maggie handed her mother the candle, which she had brought to the door, and then she signed the receipt. As soon as the man' received it, he went away, leaving the two fe- males looking at the package with its big red seals, almost afraid to open it. - They went back into their little sitting- room,' and stood by the table where the uin- touched food yet remained, and looked at each other, and at the package, tearfully. "This must be from Edward," said Maggie at last. "Yes; and I dread to open it," paid Mrs Sherman. "My heart is cold as ice with ,some horribe fear." "Let us know the worst," said Maggie. And she broke the seal of the package, and opened it. As she unfolded the inclosure, a roll of banknotes fell out; she did not pause to look at them, but glanced at the writing on the in- closure, which she instantly recognized to be from the hand of her brother. "It is from Edward. Shall I read his letter, mother?" she said. "Yes, do child; I know we have lost him, or he would not write instead of coming him- self," replied Mrs. Sherman, scarcely able to restrain her tears. Maggie paused .a moment, and then read the words of her brother: "DEAR MOTHER AND SISTER :-I have taken a step which, though it deprives you for a time of my pres- ence, will relieve you from the want which now threat- ens you, enable you to pay your rent, and to live in comfort until I can do more for you, if God spares my life in the perilous future which I must meet. "Unable to obtain any situation in the city, followed and persecuted by some unknown foe, I have enlisted in the U. S..Army. My whole bounty, eight hundred dollars, I send to you with this letter. My pay will also be sent to you, for I have made out an allotment- order, and left it with a paymaster here, upon whom you will call as by the inclosed address. Now, do not fret about me. I knew I could not bear your tears, so I have not asked for leave to go and see you, but re- quested to be sent off at once with a party going to the front to-night: so, when this note reaches you, I shall page: 38-39[View Page 38-39] be far away on the train that is to carry me toward the seat of war. It is best that it should be so. I go with a firm heart to do my duty under God to my coun- try, having done all I could for you. Write to me of- ten, addressing me in Co. B Sixth U. S. Cavalry, Shenandoah Valley, and I will answer as often as I can. Be of good cheer, and have no fear for me. Re- member that I am in the hands of Him who doeth all things well. "Farewell, but not forever. Affectionately, "EDWARD SHERMAN." "P. S.-If either of you see Miss Lorraine, thank her for her past kindness to me, and tell her that I shall never forget It. E. S." "Not forever! not forever! he says, but I feel that it is forever! I shall never see my son again," sobbed Mrs. Sherman. "Oh, mother, he may be spared; we will pray God that he may be," said Maggie, she also in tears. "If he had only waited one day, until I could have told him what Miss Lorraine said, he never would have enlisted. Our rent is paid, and we had fifty dollars to go somewhere else with. This eight hun- dred dollars is like a fortune to us, -but we could have done without it." "Yes, yes. It is blood-money, for I know he will be killed; yes, in the very-first battle he will be killed," said Mrs. Sherman, still sobbing bitterly. "Poor brother I! he loved us so dearly. He must feel wretchedly unhappy now, as each minute he is going farther and farther from us," said Maggie. And she carefully gathered up the money and replaced it in the envelope, in which it had been sent. The supper was still untasted, and when hours after, the mother and daughter side by side, kwept themselves to sleep, the food had not even been disturbed on the table. Sorrow is a poor thing for butchers, bak- ers, and grocers to make money out of. CHAPTER XXIII THE CHEF VILLAIN AND HS AGENT. Anson Demarest was in his own room again. His face was flushed, not with anger, but. with the satisfaction of triumph. His hate was more successful than his love had been. He was moving forward in the course which he had laid out m his plan of revenge; and, so far, he had not failed in any point of his undertakings. A low, quick knock at the door announced a visitor. He seemed, by the peculiarity of the knock, to know who it was, for he said, 'in a low tone: "Come in; McDaniels; you need never stand upon the ceremony of knocking when you want to enter here." The door opened, and the spy and agent entered. "I see by your looks that you have good news for me," said Demarest, motioning his visitor to a chair. "Yes, Sir. One of your friends is disposed of for the next three years-perhaps forever, if some good Rebel is only lucky enough'to pick him off" - - "Ah I Then that fellow Sherman has en- listed?" "Yes, Sir. We dogged him so close that he -could not get any situation, and in sheer despair he enlisted for the bounty!" "And got it?" "Yes, Sir. For he went direct to an army- officer instead of broker, and I could not get a hand into his case."' "What do you suppose he did with the money?" "Sent it to his mother at once, through Studley's Express." "She was not greatly in need, for I know that Miss Lorraine let them have money to-: day," said Demarest., ". I know they got money somewhere," re- plied McDaniels; " for the landlord was paid before young Sherman enlisted. But the young man did not know it, or he might not have been so fast in selling himself to .the Government." "She let them have a hundred dollars. But before many days have passed, she will need money herself. I shall spring- my trap over her now. To-morrow, she and her whimsical mother will have to try hired lodgings, un- less she does what I rather think she cannot bring her pride to. I have told her mother the conditions upon which she can remain a tenant at will in my house. She will not long have any servants about her, for I have taken pains to let them know that money will be scarce where they are employed." "What have you next for me to do, Sir?" asked the agent. "Keep track of the Sherman woman- and her daughter. Also, when the Lorraines leave their present abode, see where they go to. They have got to be followed up: for I shall never let that proud girl rest until 1 have hunted her down into the very depths of per- dition. She has known all the comforts of luxury-she must learn the bitterness of pov. erty. She must earn unbuttered bread by hard labor. If I can make her beg, I will!" "Lord! what a hater you are, Mr. Dema- rest. It would never do for an actor to play such a part on the Bowery stage, as you are living up to now. The boys would hiss him into deafness, and pelt him to death with pea- nuts." . "I don't suppose I would be popular with them. Their sympathies always go with the victims of oppression. A merciless landlord or an unfeeling creditor meets with no metcy among them. But, to Sherman again, Is he yet in the city?" "No, Sir. He asked to be sent to the front at once, .and was sent off with a squad of other recruits by the -seven-o'clock train this evening." "good I Then he is entirely out of my way. We have only the women to look to. And they will be easy game. Keep a constant eye on them. I want to prevent Miss Lorraine, when she seeks it, from getting any employ- ment except that of singing in a concert-sa- loon. I want that chance thrown in her way. If she accepts it, she is lost!" "Very well, Sir. I will see if one can be thrown in her way." CHAPTER XXIV. ANSON DEMAREST'S MSSION. "What has that Anson Demarest been do- ing or saying here, mother?" asked Louise Lorraine, as she hurried into the room where her mother was seated, after her return from her visit to the lawyer. "Did you see him, dear? Was he not dressed elegantly?" was, the mother's calm reply. "I neither know nor care how he was diess- ed. I only ask you what was his business here?" "Business? Why, I didn't ask him. He said something about the cruel way in which you had treated him, I believe. And I told him you were very foolish to do so-thatIhad no doubt that you thought a great- deal of him, and if he only proposed again I had no doubt that he would get a different answer." "Oh mother! mother I How could you do so? - ave you no pride left?" "Oh, dear, if we have no property left, why should we have any pride? I wanted to please him-for he can turn us out of this house whenever he chooses." a' No, mother, he cannot turn us out: for we will go out before he can do so. I shall go at once to look for cheap and respectable lodgings, and we will go to them. Your weakness and folly has caused the loss of this home, and, with what little money we have, we must seek another and a far more humble one." "And must I do without my dressing- maid?" "Yes I We must be content to live with- out servants." . . "And poor, poor Silk I What will he do without any one to wash him and comb his pretty hair?" "Let him go to the sausage-makers-that is all he is good for'! Mother, you will have to think of something more important than a worthless lapdog!" "Worthless I O you hopible girl! Why, poor Silk is all I've got to love in the world!" sobbed Mrs. Lorraine. "Love! Pah! You only love yourself, Madam 1" said the indignant girl. "You do not seem to realize the situation in which we are placed. I have been to consult an emi- nent lawyer upon your affairs. Mr. Crib has conducted his rascality upon a lawful basis. Your house, like your money, is legally out of your possession. We have no longer a right here, and must seek a home else- where." "I am glad that the young lady understands the position of affairs, as it saves me the trouble. of explaining matters," said a deep-toned voice behind the two ladles. Louise turned quickly, and saw a man standing at the door of the room-a stranger to her. "Who are you, Sir, and why are you un- announced here?" she cried, as an angry flush passed over her face. , My name is McDaniels, Miss, and I am the business-agent of Mr. Anson Demarest. I was admitted by one of your servants, and came to inform you that Mr, Demarest wishes to place a tenant in this house, and requires it' to be vacated as soon as pos- sible!" ",Tell him it will be vacant to-morrow- morning, Sir." McDaniels bowed and withdrew; for he, hardened as he was, could hardly bear the look of indignation which the proud girl cast upon him. - " Where shall we go-- where shall we go? Oh! what will become of poor Silk?" moan- ed Mrs. Lorraine. - "Ah! What does that nasty creature want here? Go away-go away! We don't want to see you!" The last words, uttered almost in a scream, were directed to poor Maggie Sherman, who also,.without -the usual announcement, came into the room. "I beg pardon, Miss Louise, but the serv- ant who let me in at the street-door told me to walk right in, she would come to tell you that I wanted to see you!" said Maggie. "It is no matter, I am -glad to see you, my dear girl; come to my room with me?" re- plied Louise, taking her by the hand. Mrs. Lorraine looked her horror at what seemed to her to be contamination, but wisely refrained from saying anything more to wound the poor girl's feelings, for she knew that Louise was in no state of temper now to bear with her caprices. As soon as Louise had reached her chami ber, she placed Maggie in a chair, and asked how her mother and brother were. "Mother is in great distress and almost sick!" replied Maggie. "For my poor brother, yesterday, in his despair at not get- page: 40-41 (Illustration) [View Page 40-41 (Illustration) ] ting a situation; went and enlisted as a sol- dier, and went off without even coming to say good-bye torns.- He sent us the bounty- money, which he received, by express, and mother wished me to return to you the hun- dred dollars you so kindly let me-have yes- terday, and )o thank you very, very grateful- ly for your goodness 1" "Gone, Edward Sherman gone!" said Louise, greatly agitated. "Did you not give him my message, Maggie?" "I could not, Miss Louise, for I have not seen him myself since you gave it to me. He went off without seeing us, for you know that we never would have consented to his going away from us." "P oor fellow, God in mercy protect him!" sighed Louise. "And What, my poor Mag- gie, are you and your mother going to do now?" "Work as usual, and do the best we can," said Maggie. "Brother sent us eight hun-' dred dollars, and we are going to rent a room further down-town, where I will not have to carry our work so far. There is a nice little house on Franklin street, but they will not let less than a whole floor, which has three rooms, and mother and myself do not want so much room.. It is cheaper than where we are-only forty dollars a quarter-but we do not need or want so much room. One room will do for mother and me now, since brother has gone." "'iThen my dear Maggie, I will, rent the other two from you for my mother and my- self, We are going to leave this house in the morning, and to live without servants here- after, in a manner suited to our altered cir- cumstances. My mother has imprudently trusted her property in 'the hands of a vil- lain, and we have been robbed of nearly all that we poseess!" "I am very, very sorry to hear it, Miss Louise. Now you must take back the hun- dred dollars you let me have, for we do not need it now, indeed we don't." "Keep it, my dear Maggie, to pay the rent of our new house in advance, and to lay in a good stock of wood and coal for us both to use in the winter, now so near at hand. We will always be near each other now, you see, and we can economize by buying many things together-" "1 shall be glad' that you are to live under the same roof with us, Miss Louise, but your mother seems to dislike me so much." '"You must not notice her ways, Maggie. She is Weak-minded and whimsical, but poverty will soon bring down her pride, t think. When she finds that she has no serv- ants to wait upon her, and that bare necessi- ties must usurp the place of luxuries, she will be more humble. Bear with her until she learns her lessons, for my sake,' my little Maggie. L ou and I will be like sisters, and I will learn to work as you do." "O Miss Louise, you will find it very hard. And all that you can earn will scarce buy you bread. But we have' got money to help us, and with our earnings it will last a great while. But mother says that she cannot bear the thought of spending it, for it seems to her as the price of poor Edward's life! But I cannot 0tay to talk. I will go and rent the rooms land pay a quarter m advance, for mothei and I have to move yet to-day." "Well, go, my dear girl, and Heaven bless you. I will take up quarters in the vacant rooms to-morrow. Write down the number for me,'and look for me in the morning." Maggie made the desired memorandum, and then hurried away. As soon as she was gone, Louise summoned all the house-servants, and paying each the wages that was due to them, dismissed them. It took nearly all the money which she had on hand of her own, as well as that which she had received from her mother; but had it taken every cent, she would have so used it, rather than to let a servant go unpaid. She explained to all that her mother had been swindled out of her property, and that, consequently, she had to break up housekeep- ing, and retrench all her expenses. The most of them were satisfied with the explanation, and the few that grumbled did so only because they had to leave such good situations at such brief notice. But Louise did her duty without for a mo- ment pausing to consult her mother, for she well knew she would receive no help at her hands. And- it was not until Mrs. Lorraine, at the ring of the tea-bell, went to the table and found no servant there to wait upon her, that she learned that they had all been discharged but her dressing-maid, who was paid and was to leave in the morning. It was a terrible shock to Mrs. Lorraine, but she took her tea, nevertheless. CHAPTER XXV. SIX MONTHS LATER. From wealth to poverty, from luxurmy to distress-what a change! To realize it, we have only. to pass over six months of steady persecution, in which not only the Lorraines were sufferers, but also their tried but true friends, Maggie Sherman and her mother. This persecution--silent, secret, but unrimit- ting-had prevented all of them from getting work, had caused landlord after landlord to turn them from their apartments, putting them to heavy expense in moving, and mak- ing them constantly wretched and miserable. Ofcourse, this was the work of Anson Dem- \ ;0 * ., page: 42-43[View Page 42-43] arest and his well-paid agent, whose devilish ingenuity was constantly taxed in finding out some new way to impoverish and annoy them. Prom the nice and comfortable apartments which they at first occupied in Franklin street, they had descended, step by step, until at last the only place which they could hire was a miserable suite of three apartments in a tenement-house, on the west side of town, the landlord of which had found it most prof- itable not to inquire into the antecedents of his. tenants, and who cared not who they Were, so long as they acceded to his invaria- ble terms, monthly rent in advance. The best of their furniture was gone, for their expenses had been heavy, and the most of Mrs. Sherman's eight hundred dollars had gone too, through an investment made on the advice of a seeming friend, who, the reader can easily divine, was in the pay of the re- morseless fiend, Demarest. Piece by piece, in spite of her industry, had the jewelry of Louise Lorraine gone to the pawnbrokers, for her groaning mother made constant demands on her purse for delicacies which the poor girl denied to herself. For four months of this time, the lapdog Silk had been nursed and petted, and even washed, by his mistress; but at last, to the infinite relief of the rest of the household, the pet got kicked from the top to the bottom of a long flight of stairs by an indignant Irishman, whom he had snapped at in his aristocratic canine pride, and the fall broke his back and neck at the same time. It nearly broke Mrs. Lorraine's heart also, for she took to her bed, and refused food and con eolation for some time, unfortunately not long enough to put. her out of the way; for when she came to her appetite, she made up for lost time, and was more whimsical and trouble- Some, if possible, than ever. . With only this memoranda of the trials and troubles of our female friends for six months, we will look in upon tlem, as three of them sit shivering over the little stove in their common sitting-room. The fourth .person, Mrs. Lorraine, of course, who even yet has not been reduced to what she deems the contamination, of associating with "common folks", is still abed in her own room, for it is only twelve o'clock in the day, and she never rises before that hour. They shiver, for the shaking windows of the old tenement let in a great deal. of the sharp, bleak March wind which is blowing, mad they have but a scanty fire in their small stove; for fuel is very high, and their joint stock of money, long since united, is very, very small, indeed Mrs. Sherman looks very pale and care- worn; but the two girls have youth to aid them in bearing up under trial, and look, sad \ as they seem, very beautiful yet. They are discussing an offer of employment which is most repugnant to them, but which now seems to be their only chance. We will lis- ten to them. "If we only could get work enough to ena- ble us to pay rent and to keep from starva- tion, I would rather work tweinty hours out of the twenty-four, than to expose myself to pub- lic gaze in such a way," said Louise, with a shudder. "I do not see why my musical tal- ent cannot get me employment as a teacher, rather than that I should be obliged to sing in a concert-saloon. But I am offered a salary which will keep us all in comfort, and it is not right that I should decline." ", You mut decline, if it is so ,npkasaUnt for you to sing in public," said Maggie. "You say that you will not hear to my accepting the offer which the manager made me to go as a ballet-girl." '"No, indeed, my pure, innocent, good little Maggie. My position would be bad enough, but yours would be much worse. I, at least, need not expose my person, as the poor ballet- girls have to do. No, Maggie, you must keep away from the stage, and the insults and temptations which you would have to meet there. I will accept the offer made to me, and go and sing at the concert-saloon. We cannot get work; the power and enmity of my constant pursuer has cat us off from ev- ery chance for that. But when I frankly told the manager of the saloon that I had an en- emy who was ever on hand to thwart every attempt I made to gain an honorable living-- he said that I should be protected if I accept- ed his offer, and that no report should induce him to send me away, so long as I sung as well as 1 was able to. I will risk it and go. I will send him word by post this evening; or, perhaps, I had better go myself. Will you have the goodness to walk with me to his place, Maggie?" "To be sure I will, dear Miss Louise, and I will do more. I will go with you every evening to the saloon, and stay in your dress- ing-room. while you sing; and when you are done, walk home with you. If we two are together, you will be more safe than you would be if you went alone." "It is true, Maggie. You are as 'thoughtful as you are good. I can keep from danger, for you need not be seen. And my conduct shall be such as to keep intruders away from us. Do not look so sad, Mrs. Sherman. My salary will keep us above want 1" 'It was not want I was thinking of, my dear Miss Lorraine. It was of poor Edward. It is now four months since we have heard from him, and then he was wounded and miss. ing-supposed to be a prisoner. Alas, I fear that he is dead. I ought not to mourn if he page: 44-45[View Page 44-45] is; for life in a Rebel prison, they say, is worse than death." - There was a feverish flush on the cheeks of Louise as she replied: ," We can only hope and pray for him, Mrs, Sherman. God is too good to take her last stay from the widow. Do not despair-we may soon hear from, perhaps see him. Hope never deserts me. have not seen my dear father since I was a child, and mother has long since considered him as dead; yet never for a moment have I thought him lost to me. I feel that some day he will return, and that in his return I shall be blessed." "Hope is a great thing, and it will live longer m a young heart than in a bosom long used to trouble and reverses," sighed Mrs. Sherman. "We are above despair, so long as hope is with us," said Louise. Then she turned to Maggie, and said: ' Come, my dear girl, put on your things, and get ready to go with me. I am goingto see that manager, and sign the agreement he offers-." HAPTER XXVL. ' t-- THE SPY. The proprietor of the - Apollonica Concert Saloon sat in his private office. A table with writing-materials on it occupied the centre of the room, and upon one side stood a desk fitted up with pigeon-holes for containing papers. Three or four chairs, a dozen pic- tures of actresses, dancers, and concert- singers, on the walls, and a stove, the hearth of which was strewed with the stumps of cigars, made up the furniture of the room. The proprietor, Mr. McCaw, -was a fat, sensual, good-humored looking man of forty I or ifty. His face was about as. red as the 3 brandy in his bar. It probably took its color from that beverage, for he made frequent use i of it. , In fact, a bottle of, it occupied a central c position even on his offiice-table, and a pitcher ] of water and tumblers by its side indicated t that it was there for use, not ornament, like Paddy O'Whack's shillaly at -Donnybrook tair. He was just in the act of pouring out a glass of the ruby-colored fluid when his office-boy r came in to announce a gentleman who wished E to see him particularly, handing the pro-, prietor a card. . , i "Mr. McDaniels, eh? A pretty sharp fel- low, and a good customerl" mtittered Mr. ii ' McCaw, glancing at the card, and telling the n boy to show the gentleman in. a In another minute the agent of Anson T Demarest entered. Gi lad to see you, Sir-glad to see you!" 8 said DMr, McCaw to his visitor. , Sit down is and join me in a glass of old Otard! I was Just about making myself miserable by drink- Df mg alone!" )e . Thank you-I have no objection to wet. o ting my lips with you!" said Demarest. Then v. filling his glass, he said, "Health and pros- a, perity, Mr. McCawr I '" m yours, obliged!" said the proprietor, a' ashe tossed ofthe contents of his glass. "Has d that young lady, of whose rare musical talent 'e I informed you, made an engagement with ybuuyet?" I "have not received a positive answer as yet, though I expect it every hour, for she e promised to decide and let me know to-day P" g said McCaw. ," She is terribly afraid of some 3. secret enemy whose persecutions follow her, she says, wherever she goes. But Ihave s promised her protection if she appears on my ) boards,- and she shall have it I1" "Of course she should! But you will , allow wealthy admirers to make love to ) her?" "How can I help it? That is the cursed- est part of my business. Whenever I get somethingrealty attractive on my stage, either as a singer or dancer--a girl whose beauty or talent draws, and .she becomes the rage- some rich and fancy buck steps in and gets her away from me. Even my prettiest waiter-girls get picked up once in a way!" Well, we may hope in this case that you will keep your treasure if you get he . though I know that one of the wealthiest yolllg men in the city is hopelessly in love with her- hopelessly, I say, because he courted her when she was in better circumstances, and was refused by her'?" "So much the worse for me if he. should renew his addreswa a. for, being poor, now she may listen to him!" "I think not. His repulse was too decided for him to renew his suit. - But he will be a good customer to you, nevertheless; for he drinks freely, and never goes in for anything less expensive than ' green-seal'. You have two private boxes, I believe!" "Yes, and intend to put in two more." "Well, I heard him say, when I mentioned incidentally that I thought she would sing here, that he shodld take a private box per, manently-he does not wish that she should see him, at least at present!" ," Good--that will be eight dollars a night into my purse, besides what he drinks!" , And, by the way, Mr. McCaW, be so good, in all your interviews with her, as never to mention my name. Tell her you heard by accident of her Diusical, talent, and therefore wished to engage her!" - "Gertainly. Fill your glass again-fill, Sir-this isiberty-hall you know!" s A lady, Sir, or two of them I meansand one wants to see you on business-she says her name is Miss Lorraine!" said the office boy, at the door. " Thunder I where can you put me? I do not wish to be seen by her, or she will under- stand that I, who have known her in better days, have been concerned in getting her into. a situation!" said McDaniels.. "Step into that closet a moment, and keep still!" said the proprietor. "I will .soon ar- range with her, and you can hear for yourself what the terms are!" The agent was speedily put into a small wine-closet; and, -the next moment, .Louise, accompanied by Maggie Sherman, came ifto the room. "Happy to see you, Miss Lorraine--very happy!" said the proprietor, blandly. , "Take a seat Miss- -take a seat also, Miss 1" bowing vcry low to Maggie. "May I have the honor to order a couple of glasses of Wine for you, ladies r' "Thank you, no, Sir.!". said Louise; quietly, with a dlignity natural to high breeding. ' I came to say that I would accept your offer, and commence singing to-morrow-n ight!" "Ah, I am delighted to hear it. I anticipat- ed as much, and have the. articles of agree-, ment already drawn up, ready for your sig- nature. You engage with me for 'one year, pledging yourself to accept no other engage- ment bor that time-fifteen dollars a week fbr the first six months, and twenty dollars a 'week for the succeeding sLx months. Those were the terms I olffred, I believe?" "Yes, Sir!" "Very -Yell, 'Miss Lorxrai e, I shval expect you here every by seven o'clock, ex- cept on SunLdays. At present, until some new popular songs are called for, you can sing such of your own favorites as you desire and ctn. do the best with. Please to sign the agreement, and your beautiful young friend may sign her name as a witness! Thank you would you like to receive your first -week's salary in advance?" ' No, Sir I I will wait until the end of my week!" "Very well. I pay punctually, every Sat- urday-night. What does your fair, young friend think of joining my ballet-corps! he should havre the best of teaching, and would, no doubt, 'with her splendid face and figure, rise rapidly!" "She does not wish to rise in that way, Sir. She will not go upon the stage at present!" said Louise, lor Maggie spoke only through lher blushes. And having signed the agreement which bound her to the concert-saloon for a year, Louise rose to depart. *' I am sorry yoa do not drink wine, ladies!" said manager. "I have some delicious spark- ling Moselle, just the thing for ladies, light anc smooth as music 1" Louis bowed, and merely saying ' good-after- noon', went away, Maggie clinging to. her arm;. for the pure young. girl did not like the way the great saucer-eyes of Mr. McCaw seemed to gloat upon her beauty. The moment they were gone, McDaniels stepped from the closet. "Jupiter and Mars, what a little beauty that Sherman girl is!" he cried, as he took his seat again. i"Ah, you saw her, did you?" said Sir. Mc- Caw. "Yes-there is a most convenient knothole in that door. How she blushed when you called her beautiful I She is as innocent as a dove, I'll warrant!' "Yes% green as clover yet. But that will not last long if she gets into company. They are both precious green as yet; bLut if a few months coming here don't alter their ideas and manners, they are different froml any other women that I ever knew 1 Fill your glass now, as you were about to d'o when they, were announced!" "Thank you! I drink to the success of your new debutante!" "Good! You heard the terms-liberal, are they not?" ' Yes, very, I should think!" "They are. 1 get some of my singers for. a dollar a night, and pay only five dollars a week to most of my ballet-girls. Of course, first-dancers get more. But they have their outside-chances for making money, presents , and all that, and they must take them. Tley manage, somehow, to dress well, and dress is everything for girls in their line 1" 8 ' I suppose so. But I must go now. I will let my friend know of the new engagement, and he will come to take the box!" "Do so-good-evening 1 Come around to- night if you can. I shall open a new lot of prime Habanas and some choice old liquor that I bought at an auction, the sale of a Fifth avenue gentleman who has been living too fast fbr his means, and has to go to Europe for the benefit of his purse. I got the primest wines and liquors for less' than half their i value down town.!" "Good. I will. try and be around this evening." "i Do, and bring your friend with you." "I will if he is not previously engaged. ' After ,to-morrow-night, you 'will find him a i 'steady customer. By the'way, do your pri- vate boxes communicate with the stage?" 1"Yes, but we never allow strangers to go , 'behind the scenes-only very particular friends can have that privilege." ' "Well, good-evening again. I must be off." page: 46-47[View Page 46-47] CHAPTER XXVII. THE DEBUT. The night came for the debut of the new and widely-advertised attraction at the "Apol- lonica Concert Saloon", Miss Bertha Incog- nita, the name which Louise Lorraine would only allow herself to be known by in the ad- vertisements and bills of the house. The spacious hall was crowded. There may be many readers-of course there are, of the sex angelic--whb have never been inside of one of the many gor- geous music and rum palaces of bur great cities, therefore a brief description of the Apollonica may not be out of place. It was on the first floor of one of the larg- est buildings in Broadway; and with its stage, bar, private-boxes, etc., occupied the entire first floor. The bar was near the door, arid three or four busy bar-tenders had all that they could do to receive and fill the orders brought by some twenty-five or thirty waiter-girls, of va- rious styles of beauty, dressed so as to expose what charms they had, and to entice visitors to the pace.- Further on, down the main part ofthe hall-were three rows of marble-topped tables, one on each side, and one in the cen- tre of the hall-with chairs enough by each table to accommodate all who could sit at it. For a space of about twenty feet in front of the stage, the tables were dispensed with, and benches, neatly cushioned, were placed for visitors who wished a close view of the singers and dancers. On each side of these benches there was a private box, so curtain - ed off that the inmates could be seen or not, asthey chose, either by the audience or from the stage. With the curtains drawn, no one could be seen in the boxes, but they could be drawn up if the occupants of the box de- sired. All along the handsomely-papered walls of this immense hall, paintings were hung, the most o' them decidedly Frenchy, lasciv- ious, and unchaste-such as would have brought blushes to the face of any woman; who gazed upon them, if she was not past blushing, and which no gentleman of refined taste would look at a second time. But they were "drawing things" to the half-grown boys, the idle clerks, and the old 1 sensualists who frequent such places; and therefore they were there. The stage was not the full width of the .1 room-it occupied about half in the centre, to leave room for dressing-rooms on each 1 side. It was about sixteen or eighteen feet t wide, and twelve or fourteen deep, leaving v not a great deal of room for the evolutions of s a half dozen ballet-girls, but enough for what d they hat 10o do. The drop-curtain was a gor- a geous pailting, an Eastern scene, with a Mos- fo lem lord reclining in the midst of a group of attendant Peris; one handing him a pipe, an- i other tendering him a goblet, a third holding - over his head a wreath of flowers. Into this immense saloon, visitors began to Igather as soon as the gas was alight; the most of them taking seats at the table, and order- ing liquors and cigars; others sauntering about, and looking at the pictures, or ex- changing badinage with the pretty waiter- girls, which betokened that they were old customers there. As it grew later, and the orchestra (a grand piano, flute, and violin) began to play, the crowd increased; and at 8 o'clock, when the singers and dancers were to commence their part of the entertainment, the hall was full especially the seats in front of the stage. The waiter-girls were flitting to and fro all the time, busy in responding to the continued calls for refreshments from every side. At last the performance commenced. Ac- cotrdging to the printed programme, Made- minoiselle Ada, the celebrated danseuse from New Orleans, was to dance the cachuca. At eight, precisely, the stage-manager's bell rung-up went the curtain, and out bounded a beautiful young girl, with a most enticing scantiness of dress,a splendid figure, splendid brown hair, and a face which would have reformed a hermit-monk of the Dark Ages, and made him forget his vows. F'or a moment, the applause was deafening, but it ceased when she took her position, and, with her castanets upraised, waited for the music to strike' up its voluptuous notes. -The next instant, the music and herself were floating through the air in that sweet-. est of Spanish dances, and every spectator was hushed in admiration. All were silent until the dance was concluded, then indeed the applause was deafening and it was con- tinued until the girl was once. more beibre the audience. The orchestrainow struck up a Highland fling, and those who had so adnired the dreamy grace, the floating beauty of the Spanish school, had a chance to see the less graceful but more vigorous style of the This dance over, and amid a shower of bouquets and thunders of applause, the fair danseuse drew back and the curtain fell. During the dance, the waiter-girls liad been allowed a little rest, but now the orders caine thicker than ever; and to and fro they hurried, the Hebes of the hour, helping to fill the already plethoric purse of Mr. AcCaw, who smiled pleasantly as he moved about, seeing that his various employees did their duty, for his sole profit was in the immense amount of liquor sold. No charge was made for admittance to the Apollonica. A gentleman, with a very red nose, a shocking bad hat, and a wardrobe of a very hard character, now came out, being an- nounced on the bill as : "Mr. Halibut, with a comic song." With a voice full as doleful as his looks, he sung, "( The Poor Young Man", receiving considerable applause, but not enough to call him out again, after the curtain went down. Then came the trial-dance, from the Baya- dere, done exquisitely by Mademoiselle Ada and Miss Lee, and this of course had to be repeated.. It was noticeable, too, that the visitors who sat closest to the footlights-where their grossly sensual eyes could revel on the dis- play of figure which female dancers must make in this moral age, to be popular-were old men, who might better have been 'think- ing how brief was the time which they would yet have on earth; for the grave was yawning before them. We will now step behind the scenes a mo- ment, with happy Mr. McOaw, for the event of the evening, the d6but of the new singer, is about to occur. It is thus announced in the bill: "Miss Bertha Incognita, in a favorite song ;' the first appearance in public of this en- chantingly beautiful and very talented young lady." Dressed very plainly, but most becoming- ly, Louise stood trembling in the little room back of the stage, clasping Maggie Sherman by the hand, when Mr. McCaw came in and told her to be ready, for the curtain would rise for her song in just three minutes. "You had better take a glass of wine, my dear young lady, just to give you confidence!" said the proprietor. "You are as pale as that white flower in your hair." "' I shall not lack color when I have to face that crowd of men! said Louise, with a shudder. "I do not need wine. I will sing \ better without it." 1 "Well,'do as you like. I 'am afraid you will have to use rouge, as the rest do. I will go in front apnd see how you, look. Keep up a stout heart, and don't break down. If you get through with your first song, all will go easy after that." And Mr. McCaw went out in front, leaving poor Louise trembling and, almost ready to faint with agitation. But the bell rang, 'and the manager told her to go on. She advanced almost to the footlights, cast one hurried, fearful glance at the sea of strange faces before her, and to the accom- paniment of the slim orchestra, sang the beautiful song: ' Before the days of sadness came," , . Those who h' e heard iT ow hat there Is nothing more louy -beautiful in the English Language, and her slightly-agitated tones at the commencement even added to its beauty. She had been too agitated at first to notice the wild storm of applause which greeted her when she went on; but when, without an error, in maniflcent tone, she concluded the song and retired, the applause was literally deatening. In an instant the delighted Mr. McCaw was at her side. "Splendidl" he cried. "You could not have done better! You will be a prima don- na yet. Hear how they cheer and applaud! You will have to go on again; they will take no denial." "Oh, must I go again? What shall I sing now?" said the shrinking girl. "Anything you like; the same thing over, if you wish to. Anything will please them now, for you have made a hit, a wonderful hit! There, go now, the curtain's rising!" Far less agitated than before, Louise now went on and Sung the sweet little gem known as "Memory Bells". It was received with even more enthusi- asm than before, and a shower of bouquets fell at her feet as she closed the lest stanza. One of these was composed entirely of white flowers, all of the rarest kind, and nestling in the centre of it, fastened to the stem of a white rose, was a magnificent diamond-ring. Of course, she could not know who was the giver; for she had not recognized a face before her in her confusion, nor did she know from whose hands came the flowery compliments. If she had known to whom to return the ring, it would have been assuredly returned; but as she did not, she of course could only pocket the compliment, Or wear it. But she determined to carefully observe the audience when she went on the next time, to see if there was any one there whom she had known in more prosperous days. It was nearly eleven o'clock when she was called again, for she had only to appear twice in an evening, and she was completely com- posed when the curtain went up for her then. She sang one of Moore's prettiest melodies with very fine effect, was loudly applauded, and encored, of course. This time she saw a face thatshe knew, but she knew well that he never would have opened h!s purse to give her such a valuable ring, or had the taste to purchase such a bouquet, evidently indicative of and emblematic of her purity. The face she recognized was that of Elnathan Crib, seated among the lecherous old sinners who occupied the front-seats. page: 48-49 (Illustration) [View Page 48-49 (Illustration) ] She saw in his face a look of recognition,' but it also expressed unmixed and unmis- takable astonishment. He was evidently surprised to see her there, and had not known of it until he saw. her. Therefore she was sure that the ring had not come from him. Upon examiinng it again, she found her own initials, "L. L.", engraved on the inside. It then surely came from some one who knew her real name. Who could it be? Possibly, yes, even probably, it was the manager, Mr. McCaw, who had taken this delicate way of making her a handsome present, to encourage her in her new profes- sion. She showed him the bouquet and ring, and asked him if they were not his gifts. His astonishment could not have been simulated, as he looked at the ring, and denied ever having seen it before. "It is a beauty, worth at the least four or five hundred dollars!" he said. "l You have indeed made a hit, a wonderful hit, for your first night'.' , ' Louise was well satisfied with her swccess -she could not be oVerwise. But the mys- tery' of the ring troubled 'her. She would rather have not-had it, valuable as it was; for she had firmly made up her mind, when she resolved to accept the situation, to accept no favors, make no new' acquaintances, and to receive no attentions from any, person with whom her new duties would throw her in contact. She went home with Maggie after her last song was sung, heartily glad that her first night's work was done, and fatigued even with what she had sung, though at home she had often practiced foi hours without being tired. But there is a great difference between singing in public, where the compass .of'the voice must fill a large room, and singing at home in a parlor. Little Maggie was delighted with the suc- cess of her friend, and went home with the load of bouquets in her arms, careful not to lose a single token of the triumph she so much enjoyed. She wondered what could make Louise sigh and seem so sad, when she had done so well. She-Maggie--would give half the. world if she had it, could she but do half as well. And thus she rattled on until they got home, where they found, for a wonder, Mrs. Lorraine out in the sitting-room,. where she had been waiting for her daughter to come home. CHAPTER XXVIII. THE LAWYER AND THE GHOUL. When Mr. Jonathan Crib first saw Louise Lorraine on the stage, he did not know wheth- er to believe his eyes or not. He looked at the bill in his hand, and saw that it was Miss Bertha Incognita who was there announced to sing. Again and again he scanned the now flushed face of the beautiful girl, adn saw that he could not be mistaken. "It is wonderful; I may say, it is devilish wonderful!" he muttered in a low tone, but loud enough to be heard by an old gentle- man who sat at his right - a man who, with long bony hands resting on a pair of legs about as thick and as' shapely as a pair of stilts, had, with his ghoul-like eyes, been. trying to fairly look through the thin drapery of the dancers, and now all as hungrily gazed upon the stately figure of the lovely canta- trice. "It is wonderful that, with her pride and talent, she should be brought so low as to come here," again muttered the Wall-street lawyer. "'Strange, I may say, devilish strange!" , "Do you know her, Sir?" asked the old wretch by his side, laying one of his bony hands upon his arm. Elnathan Crib first looked at the hand, and then at the speaker. Upon the hand glittered a diamond ring worth thousands of dollars.. 'In the shirt- bosom of the speaker was a stone larger and even more valuable. The dress which in- cased the old skeleton Was rich and costly, He evidently was a man of means. This, Mr. Crib saw at a glance, and therefore consider- ered him, of course, worthy of consideration. "Do you know her, Sir '" repeated the old man. "I will give . a' hundred-dollar green- back for an introduction." "I knew her once, Sir, when she was heir- ess to near half a million of dollars," replied the lawyer.. "H er amother was very unfov- ' tunate in her investments, and .got down in the 'world. But I never thought her daugh- ter would condescend to appear on the stage. She used to be as proud as Lucifer." "Can't you introduce me?" asked the old sinner by the lawyer's side. "I wouldn't mind two hundred, right down on the nail, for an introduction to her." "I would, Sir, if I could. I will see, by- and by. Does she not sing splendidly?" "I don't know much about singing, and care less," said the old man. "But she has a splendid bust, and look what a foot and ak4le!" "She looks like a queen, and no queen was ever more proud than she used -to be," said Mr. Crib. "I will find out if I can renew my acquaintance with her; and if I can, I will let you know to-morrow night, and manage an introduction for you." "Db-do, my dear Sir, and I will do any- thing for you. My name is Bodine,. Sir- there is my card, Sir. What will you have to drink?" said the old anatomy. page: 50-51[View Page 50-51] "Wait until she goes off, and I will tell E you," replied Mr. Crib, who was intently watching the face of Louise, to see if she recognized him. Evidently, she was too confused at that, her first appearance, to recognize any one midst the hundreds who were gazing at her. After she had'retired, been encored, sung again, and went off a second time, Mr. Crib, at the request of Mr. Bodine, called for brandy and water, which the old roue ordered from one of the prettiest of waiter-girls. He(Mr. Bodine I mean) ordered a glass of sherry. Brandy, he said, was too" heavy" for him-he never took it after dinner. The two sat and chatted and talked of the charms of the dancers, until Louise came on for the last time in the evening. Then she saw the face of the lawyer; andhe knew at once, by her look, that she recognized him. But he saw nothing in her look which would encourage him in attempting to renew his acquaintance with her. "Isn't she magnificent! What a bust- what an ankle!" was the eulogistic remark of Mr. Bodine, as he again looked at her queenly figure. But never a word said-he about her magnificent voice or the faultless style of her singing. CHAPTER XXIX. The moment that Louise and Maggie en- tered the silting-room after their return home from the concert-saloon, the former saw that a storm had been brewing in what little mind her mother possessed. There she sat, near the stove, as rigid as a dressmaker's displaytfigure, her thin lips pursed up, as if they had been soaked in alum-water, her White hands crossed in her lap, her eyes fixed-senerely on vacancy! As Louise came wearily forward, and throw- ing off her cloak and hood, drew near the stove to warm her shivering form, Mrs. Lor- raine drew her chair back, as if to shun her touch, and in a cold tone asked.: "Where have you been this night, Miss Louise Lorraine?" "To sing at a concert-saloon, mother, in order to eain bread. to keep us from starving,. and fuel to keep us warm!" replied Louise, in her usual quiet but firm way. ( Then this woman has told me the truth!" -said' Mrs. Lorraine,. indicating by a gesture that Mrs. Sherman was the "woman" she meant. "I could not believe her-I did not think one of my blood would descend so low as to become a concert-singer! Go, base girl, go! Henceforth I will not know you.' I disown and disinherit you! You have dis- graced me and ruined yourself!" Louise smiled-yes, smiled at the tragical air which her mother put on as she almost shrieked out these words. What could she do but smile? "Mother," said she, " if I were to disown you, where would you find a roof to cover your head, or food to sustain life? My labor keeps you from beggary! It is unkind of you to blame me for doing all that I can to sup- port you in comfort!" "Comfort? I have no comfort!" moaned Mrs. Lorraine, rocking herself to and fro in the chair, and wringing her hands. "The only comfort I had left was taken from me when poor, dear Silk was cruelly murdered! And now you have to add to my misery, to increase my wretchedness, by going to sing in a low concert-saloon. Oh dear, oh dear, I shall die-I shall diel I cannot bear this new misery!" "Maggie, will you bring the cold chicken and celery, and that bottle of wine which I purchased for mother! It is in the basket that I left by the door!" said Louise to her little friend. "Chicken, and celery, and wine 1" cried Mrs. Lorraine, forgetting disgrace, misery, and all. very suddenly, as she rose and sprung to look at the contents of the basket. "O -Louise, with all your faults, I love you still! But it shocked me terribly to think of your singing in a concert-room!" "No more than it did me, mother, when I first thought of it. But something had to be done to keep the hungry wolf from the door. and I can earn an honorable living by sing- ing, which I could not get in any other way!" "Well, child, I will try to be resigned to the cruel necessity!" said Mrs. Lorraine, in a much-mollified tone, as she took the basket in her hand and started for her room. "Stop a moment, mother!" cried Louise, blushing with shame at the utter selfishness of her mother. "There are a few other things in the basket for my own use and for our ever good friends, Mrs. Sherman and her daughter. Please to wait until I take then out!" With a greedy groan, the miserable lady permitted the removal of the other articles, -and then retired to enjoy her chicken, celery. and wine, in the dignity and respectabilily 01 her own company; sighing, no doubt, at the thought that her precious lapdog was not alive to join her in a supper which she had now come to consider very delicious. "My dear Mrs. Sherman, I know that it is useless for me to apologize for the insulting ways of my mother; but you know how mucly I am mortified, and that, so lar as I can, I prevent your being exposed to them. I never encourage her leaving her own room!" 1 said Louise. ; I know it, my dear Miss Lorraine; but page: 52-53[View Page 52-53] you must not think that I am annoyed ihi the least. At first, I acknowledge, I felt her slights; but I soon saw her depth, and since then have ,not allowed myself to consider anything from her as' worth noticing. But you, who are literally the angel of our little household, make a thousand times more than amends for anythit]ng she can say or do, for your goodness and kindness to me is perpetual!" said Mrs. Sherman. ' "You know I am very selfish even in that," replied Louise, with a smile, "For I have given up my cherished secret to you, and you klnow that when our hero returns from the war, I fondly hope to be able to call you mother!" "If he comes r" said Mrs. Shorman. "Ah, me! I fear that we shall never see him again." "Oh yes, we will, and he will be a Colonel at least, perhaps a General. He went out as a private, you know; yet, when we last heard from him, he had won, under the watchful eye of America's noblest General, the brave Grant, the rank of a lieutenant." Yes, and the daring ambition to excel and to rise higher yet, has cost him his liberty nad perhaps his life." "Not his life. We will hope for the best, and pray for his success. And now my good mother that is to be, sit up to the table which our sweet Maggie has been spreading while we have been talking ; and while we eat, I will tell you of my successful debut, and a strange but very valuable present which I re. ceived to-night. I thought that as my d:bxilt was a success, and my salary a sure thing now, I could afford to be a little extravat'ant for once and get something good to eat in honor of the occasion. Come, my dear lady, take the head of the table--a place I hope ere long to see filled by him whom we all think so much of. Mrs. Sherman sighed, as she ever did, When allusion was made to her son, but took a seat at the table, which Maggie had set out in the most tempting manner. "Now, take a piede of that cold roast chicken, and then feast your eyes on this dia- mond-ring, which was thrown to me on the ,tage in a bouquet to-night," said Louic, e "A diamond-ring? Poor girl! they already begin to tempt you," said Mrs. Sherman, with a sigh. Temptation will not move me, my dear, lady ; so do not sigh. Imogen of the Marble 1 iclart was fire in comparison to me;- I am colder than condensified ice to all, except that dear one who knows it not, and must not until I say the word, when he comes back andj finds what a good daughter I have been to you in his absence. But I am hungry, and i must use my mouth to more purpose than I talking. CHAPTER XXX THE WHTE WREATH 'AND THE LAWYER'8 LETTER., The proprietor of the "Apollonica" was of a disposition too sanguine to be much sur. prised at any amount of success, but it is not too much to say that he was rather surprised and immensely pleased to see his large hall filled to overflowing at a very early hour on the second evening of the engagement of his new star. And as he moved to and fro among the crowd, he often heard the name of"Bertha Incognita" spoken, and he knew that his new debutante was the cause of the really extraor- dinary increase of custom'. He was ready, too, to acknowledge it to the young lady herself, when she arrived in com- pany with Maggie: for he went behind the scenes to see her, and to cheer her with the information before she came out with her first song for the evening. Louise acknowledged the compliment with a blush and a sigh, for hers was not a nature to feel the triumph of drawing a crowd to such a place-she only felt the stern and sad, necessity which forced her to display her tal- ents and her person in public. And when 'Mr. McCaw had gone out in front again, Louise quite astonished Maggie by saying that she was sorry that she was thought so attractive. Why, I would give almost anything if I could be o successful," said Maggie. ' My heart bouunds when I hear them applaud you. I should go wild if I were winning such ap- plause for myself, Their applause is all well enough,:' isaid Louise, "if I could avoid all other notice or attention. But too well I know, and Heaven only knows how much I -dread, the attentions which I know some of those who applaud will try to fothre upon me. - I have heard, and I fear that it is too true, that when a woman comes out upon the stage, sheisd looked upion as one bcund to descend- in virtue, cven, though she rises in fahre But I will, in my person, give the lie to the thought; for neither in act or look shall the libertine find in me one spot upon whch lie can place his tarnish- ing breath. But I dread. you cannot- ine,:,ine, Magtie, how I dread going upon that siage, as I must directly, to be a least to the hungry eyes which will gaze upon me. Not one in ten who is there would conme to hear ame again if I was unshapely in form or repulsive in thace! Hark-there is the call-boy cittning heart-sick as I am I must smile and go on. In another minute the curtain was up. and Louise was doing as she had' done the night before--holding the vast audience spell-bound with her sweet and powerful voice. When she closed, and bowing, was about to retire, showers of bouquets fell at her-feet, and as she stooped to pick them up, a wreath of snow-white flowers was cast with such skill that it fell as it was intended to, upon her queenly head, making her look, as she blushed amidst the tremendous cheering, even more beautiful than before. She did not- know from whom the wreath of flowers came; but there were many who saw the hand which cast it suddenly appear from behind the curtains of the private box nearest to the stage, and when the wreath had been thrown, all as suddenly drop out of sight behind the quickly-reclosed curtains. When Louise reached the dressing-room, with her load of bouquets, the applause out- side was so deafening, and the cries of an encore so loud, that she had to obey the man- ager's call and hurry out to give another song to the cheering multitude. When this was' over, and she was once more in her dressing-room, she took time with Maggie to examine the bouquets which had been cast at her feet. A few' of the choicest had cards attached to them, that she might know who had admired her sufficiently to thus make his admiration known. Upon taking off the wreath of white flowers, Louise discovered a small piece of paper intwined within its leaves. She glanced at it, and then handed it to Maggie. Upon it were these words, quoted from one of our most gifted poets: "In Eastern lands they talk in flowers, And they tell in a garland their loves and their cares- Each blossom that blooms in their garden-bowers, On its leaves a mystic language bears. And, lovely flower, I find in thee Wild sweetness which no words express, 'And charms in thy simplicity, That dwell not in the pride of dress.'" Louise read the lines, and then laid the wreath aside. "You surely will wear it when you go on again-you look, so handsome in it!" said Mtagtgie. "I surely will not, my dear Maggie," said Louise. "It would only be giving encourage- iment to the person, whoever he is, who wrote those bold lines, which are impertinent when addressed to a person who is a stranger to him." "I Yet, my dear Miss Louise, the one who threw this wreath to you, like the one who cast the diamond-ring on last night, cannot be a stranger to. you; for see here on the back of these lines yonr name-' Miss Louise Lorraine, as beautiful as she is. pur'e.' It must be from some old acquaintance of yours." "The Lord only knows who it can be, then," said Louise. "' can 'recognize but, one face that I know in- the audience-the lawyer whose rascality or stupidity ruined my mother, robbing her of her fortune, was there last night; and I saw his hated face again this evening in the same place. He would not dare to insult me with gifts, or venture to seek, in my present position, to renew the very slight acquaintance that I 'once had with him." "If you please, Miss, here's a note a gen- tleman asked me to hand to you," said a small boy, who was attached to the place, and 'he reached a small slip of paper to Louise. She glanced at ,the writing, and noticed that it was in pencil, and evidently scrawled in haste. She read it and her face flushed crimson, and her eyes flashed indignantly as she did so. "The gentleman told me to wait for an answer, Miss," said the boy, in a respectful tone. "Tell him that such impertinence requires no answer," said Louise, angrily. "I didn't mean no harm iii bringing the note, Miss; please don't be angry with me," 'said the boy. "I am 'not angry with you, my lad," said Louise. "But never bring me any more notes from gentlemen-I 'do not wish to re- ,ceive any." "I will remember it, Miss," said the boy, as he turned and went, out. "Who was it that insulted you, dear Louise?" asked Maggie. "It was that rascally lawyer, my dear--lle very wretch of whom I was speaking when the boy brought that miserable scrawl from him, asking permission to speak to me and to introduce a very wealthy friend who is deeply i ste in me. May the foul fiend take him and his friends!-I wish nothing from him or them." "Perhaps it was the wealthy friend of whom he speaks that sent you the ring." "It may be so. When I know who sent it, it will be returned. Ah, me! my troubles here, I fear, are just commencing. I dreaded this; but I will be firm, and sternly repel all advances. They will soon find one un- like those they have been used to tempt, and they will let me alone." "Yes, dear Louise, I know they will. It will soon be time for you to go on again. Will you not wear the wreath?" "No, my dear girl; it would only be en- couraging the person who sent it. They will thire of giving me wreaths and bouquets when tlhey see that I care nothing for them. I Will, after this, let them lie upon the stage until they are removed by some of the scenery-men. I will not stoop to pick one up again." "They are too beautiful to lose-I will page: 54-55[View Page 54-55] gather them up, and carry them home," said Maggie, looking at the lovely flowers on the table. "Do what you please with them then, Maggie, after the curtain falls." CHAPTER XXXI. CRIB AT A DISCOUNT-A LOOK INTO THE PRIVATE BOX. Lawyer Crib, true to the promise made on the previous morning to the old roue, Bo- dine-for he would be true to anything which promised money for his purse-was in the same seat at the concert-saloon on the second night of the engagement of Louise, that he had occupied on the night before And, like a gaunt old wolf on the look-out for a lamb for his ravenous maw, was Mr. Bodine also there, his diamonds glittering like "death- lights" over a skeleton, his bony fingers clutching the gold-tnounted opera-glass withQ which he sought to look through and through the performers on the stage. He recognized Crib as soon as he took his scat, and ordered drinks as usual, and talked with him about money and stocks and bulls and bears, in Wall-street style, until the con- cert opened, and then he had eyes only for the beauties of the stage. When Louise made her appearance, he was in even a higher state of rapture than he had been on the previous evening, and he vowed that, cost what it might, he would have an introduction to "that bust, those arms, the superb ankles". Mr. Crib, stimulated by the promise of re- ward, and perhaps selfishy inclined to try to resume an acquaintance for his own pleasure, hurriedly scrawled a pencil-note, and, telling a. waiter-girl to send a little boy to him, suc- ceeded in having the note carried to Louise, as we already know. When the boy returned with the message, which would have abashed any one but a Wall-street lawyer, whose face is harder than brass. lis skinny face flushed with a moment- ary anger. 'Proud is she-prout seven in poverty. I'll take means to bling down that pride yet! You shall have the introduction, Mr. Bodine -you shall have it, if-tI have to get her under lock and key to gain it for you!" Shy gamue-shy game! I like it all the better!' said the old ogre, as he rubbed his skinny palms together. "I don't like fiuit which drops into your mouth the minute you open it! 'll have-her yet-I'll have her yet, if' it costs me a thousand!" A person who sat directly behind these two men-gentlemen, I suppose, they must be called-had listened to every word they had spoken, had- seen Crib 'send the note, and heard the reply, sent verbally to him. This person now wrote a few words on slip of paper, and handed it to Mr. Bodine. The latter laid his opera-glass upon i knee, took out an eye-glass, and read th lines, then turned and looked at the perso who wrote them. His survey seemed to satisfactory, for a smile came out on his thi face, and he said, in a low whisper : "Good!. good! I'll see you at the plac appointed, and if you do what you say yo can, it shall be gold in your pocket, Sir gold in your pocket!" The person whom'he addressed nodde meaningly, and then rose and went away His course was laid for the entrance of th private box which we halve spoken of befor and he entered it a moment after. There was but one person in the clos curtained box, .and he seemed to be enjoyin himself, for on a little table back of the seat stood an open bottle of wine, with glasse one of which he had just emptied. "Well, McDaniels, how does the bati go?" he asked, as he pointed to the bottl indicating thereby that his agent should hel himself. "Very well-surely, if but slowly!" sai McDaniels, as he helped himself to win "You threw that wreath on. beautifull It fell on her head as gracefully as a bir could have lighted there!" "Yes, and if she had known from whos hand it came, how quickly she would has shaken it off; most likely she would ha stamped it under her tiny feet. But she wi have a good time in finding out her unknow lover, and when she does find out who it i there'll be oni of the storms you may read but seldom see!" "I have just done something, Mr. Den' rest, which will give you a chance to play t hero, in a good disguise?"I "What is it, Mac R? '"I have put a rich old libertine on the id of an abduction. I see that he is crazyt possess her; so I wrote him a line; telli him that I could manage a way of putti! her in his power. I am to meet him by an by, and arrange the affair with him.. I give her a fright which she will never forge and skin him out of a thousand or two, tn you can step in and make a rescue just i the nick of time, gently hinting that th Knight of the Diamond Ring and the Whii Wreath is her guardian angel. Play you card right, and you'll get her in love wit her mysterious friend before she knows and then you can triumph in letting h know that she has given her heart to the i carded!" "Yes, yes. But look, the curtain is goin up for her to come on. I wonder if she wi wear my, wreath! No, there she colr without it. She has even laid the diamond ring away. Any other woman would wear it. O Jupiter, how pretty she is! and her voice is second to that of no prima donna in the land. How she would have shone in so- ciety as my wife! By Heavens, she yet shall shine as my mistress; for I will possess her if it costs me my life! S]3e will soon have lovers enough around her; but they. will flutter around a danger they dream not of. No man shall ever call her his own'but Anson Demarest, while Anson Demarest breathes the breath of life!" "I drink your success, my dear Sir," said McDaniels, as he drank another glass ot wine. "And now I will go out to meet the old. gentleman, and see if I can't get him on a string!" "Do so, and come and let me know how things work." "I will." And McDaniels went out to meet Mr. Be- dine, and to lay further plans for the persecu- tion of poor Louise. While he is doing this, we will look else- where after the whereabouts of an old friend. CHAPTER XXXII. THE ESCAPED PRISONER AND A NEW CHAR- ACTER IN A NEW LOCATION. In the very heart of the State of Georgia, back from all the navigable rivers, and, bfr- tunately for its owner, not near any railroad i or any of the great thoroughfares used by the Confederate troops in their marching to and fi'o during the Rebellion, was a planta- tion, which, for beauty of location as well as richness of products, indicated taste and boundless wealth in its owner. Vast fields of cotton spread out in various directions from the large mansion, which was engroved in a beautiful clump of live-oaks in its centre. Patches of corn, sweet potatoes, and grain; large gardens of vegetables and orchards of fruit were visible on' various sides, telling the passer-by that, whatever might be the desolation of other parts of the Confederacy, here, at least, was boundless plenty. Sleek and well-clothed negroes were lazily working in the fields-one of their own color acting as overseer to each of the various gangs. The mules, horses, pigs, cattle, and. poul- try, all bore the same look of good feeding. The fences, barns, storehouses, and negro- cabins all looked neat, and were in good repair. Nothing, from the large mansion, with its piazza all round, and its huge chim- ney at each end, built on the outside of the house, down to the smallest cabin on the place, exhibited anything but perfect order and supreme comfort. It was in the middle of a hot summer-day that an escaped Union officer, weak from old wounds, and almost starving, crept out from a swamp where he had been hiding, and, from the top of a storm-felled tree, looked over this rich 'scene. He had been ten days creeping slowly away from the loathsome prison in which he and a thousand more brave patriots had been immured, suffering all the time worse agony than death-scant- ily fed on spoiled provisions, ragged, covered with vermin, their wounds neglected, and in- sulted daily and hourly by guards whose chivalry was never more than a name, and that name a vile mockery. He had dared death to escape from such a captivity; and, creeping away across the "death-line" in the silence of a murky night, swimming stream after stream to throw the bloodhounds off his track, eating raw corn from the fields, he had,got more than a hun- dred miles from his place of imprisonment; but was now so weak, suffering fearfully. from the breaking out of his half-healed wounds, that hope began to leave his heart, and he felt like perishing, with the sight of plenty and even luxury before him. So far, he had not spoken to a human be- ing; for, in spite of the reputed love of the negroes for the cause which embraced their freedom as one of its objects, he did not dare to trust them, knowing by many a sign that they were weak and treacherous by nature. But his was now a state in which to hesi- tate would be death-he was weak and starv- ing, and he knew that without food and rest he would surely perish. Observing a large, rather intelligent-look- ing negro, whose color indicated considera- ble white blood in his veins, working at a little melon-patch, considerably apart from any of the other hands, the Union officer crept toward him, and in the course of an hour he was near enough to speak and attract his attention. The eyes of the negro opened wide with astonishment as he looked at the skeleton- form before him, clad in the ragged remnants of a blue uniform; and. dropping his hoe, he hurried up to the officer and said, while he looked his commisseration: "Good Lor, Mars'r; you is nigh dead, isn'tyou? Hungry, and dry, and all dat?" "Yes, -I am hungry enough, my man!" said the officer. "You will not betray me, will you? I am a 'Union officer, escaped from a Rebel prison, and must trust to you!" "A Yankee offser, got away from the Rebs? Well, I nebber! You is de fust one I ebber see; but I've done heard ebber so much about 'em. Why, you look jest like any odder white man, only you look mighty mean in dem ragged clothes, all mud, too. page: 56-57[View Page 56-57] from do swamp. I'se got better ones in my cabin, I has!" ' 2"Yes, and better on your back!" said the officer, who, in spite of his situation and suf- fering, could not repress a smile at the very honest comment which the negro made on his personal appearance. ' I didn't mean to be saucy, Mars'r!" said the negro. "I know you has been and done suifered a heap, and I'll do all I can to help you. .My name is Moses, and old Mars'r thinks a smart sight of me!" "Well, Moses, if you'll only help me out of the wilderness, .as your great namesake helped out the Israelites in the olden time, I'll try to reward you well., I, have got a few dollars hid away under these rags, which you will be welcome to if you'll give 'me sometling to eat, and hide me away until I can get. strong enough to go on," said the officer. I'll get you somethin' to eat, Mars'r, in a little wiile, if you'll just hide away in dat clump of bushes dar. And when it comes dark; 111 take you to old Mars'r, and he'll be just like a ladder to you." "Your Mars'r, my man? No; that would never do! He would be sure to give me up to the lebpls ; for he must be a Rebel, or he never would be allowed to till this splendid plantation in peace!" 'cried the officer in alarm at the proposal. "No, Mars'r, he is on'y a make-b'leve Rebel! He used to live in. de Nor;, I've heard him say, and he on'y come here from Californy just afore de war broke out. He'd have gone away long ago, I reckon, if he could have done sold out, but dcy won't let nobody go away, black nor white, now. I know ole Mars'r will be good to you, for he's good to ebberybody. I'd take you right up to see him now, but some of de rest of de boys might be keerless, and blab dat dey had seen a strange white man 'around, and de sogers might be after you! You may kill me stiff dead if I doesn't tell you de trufe!" "Well, Moses, I will trust you, and I will go and lie down in the bushes there, until you come back." "D at's right, Mars'r. I won't be gone long. I'll jest get you a little bacon and corn- dodger to last till nighit comes, and den you can go in on chicken-fixins an' peach an' honey." The man now hurried off in the direction of the neat, whitewashed negro-quarters, i near the planter's mansion, and the officer 1 crawled to ihe place of concealment p II tB out, and suhas down utterly exhausted. I The sun then was not more than a couple of hours high, and he fell into a slumber t which must have lasted some time, for it was 1 'nearly dark when a kind hand Was laid up- on his hot brow, and the touch wakened 'him He looked up, and the first glance of the kind face which was bent over him, drove alarm, if he had ever felt any, away from his bosom. He saw the pale and thoughtful counte- nance of a man whose white hair and long snow-white beard told him to be well-ad- "vanced in years. In his clear blue eyes he saw a kindly light, which told him that the wokds which fell from the old gentle- man's lips'caine from his heart. '"My poor young. friend, you must have suffered terribly'!" he said. "I am glad you are where I can take care of you. AMy mlan Moses told me you were here, and I hurried out to help you. ' Take a sip of this old bran- dy-it will revive you; and thlen, if you can walk between me and Moses, we will soon have you in a good bed. If you are not able to walk, Moses will carry you, for he is as strong as a mule, and you don't look as if' you weighed much. Poor fellow, how you have suilered! Suffering is written all over you!" "'Will not the kind shelter you offer ex- pose you to danger, Sir!" said the officer. "' I acknowledge to you that I am an escaped Union prisoner, and the Confederatcs would be only too glad to recapture ine, and per- haps to punish those who would befriend me!"P "I have no fear for that,"' said the planter, as he placed his brandy-flask in the officer's hands. "I have paid the exorbitant State and Government taxes without a murmur, let my chief overseer, the only white man that I had on the place widen the war com- menced, go as an officer in the Confederate Army, and they believe me as loyal as the' best of them. Besides, Moses has been very prudent in his actions, and no one but him and myself know that you are here. We two will keep the secret. Do you not feel better since you sipped that brandy?" "Yes, Sir:--that andt the hope which your kindness gives' me, has revived me amazing- "I am glad to hear it. As soon as you feel like'it, we will start for the house. The men are done work, and at suplper in their quarters now, and it is getting sJ dark that I can easily get you into the house unobserv- ed. And if you were seen, there is not a man on my place who would betray you. But to avoid any danger which a careless word might bring upon you, we will keep your pre3-.ee a secret from all but Moses,. who will wait upon you altogether after this, un- til I can manage some plan to get you safely back to your friends in the Union Army." "t Sir, I fear I can never repay you for such m kindness." . "Do not speak of it. I will be repaid ti when I take the journey which 'one of my b years must 'soon take. I do but a Christian H duty in beftiending, you. Come, take my t1 arm--Moses will take the other side, and we will try to get you home!" CHAPTER XXXIII. q MORE PLOTS-MORE PERSECUTIPON. When McDaniels left the. private box of Anson Demarest, he walked out where he a could be seen by Mr. Bodine, and giving him a signal to follow, he left 'the concert-hall. i In a couple of mninutes they were out on D Broadway. "If you will come to my room at the St. Nicholas,. where we can converse freely 1 without being overheard, I will impart to s you that which I hinted at in my note!" said McDaniels, in a low tone, to the old gentle- man. "Very Well, I will go there; and if you can help' me to get' the gih:, as you say you can, I'll pay you well. For she is magnifi- cent--such a bust, such ankles! Magnifi- cent!" And Ihe old wretch rubbed his skinny palms together, as he thought of her wmom he sough'i to make his victim. The two were soon at the St.. Nicholas Hotel, and seated' in a room temporarily tak- en by McDaniels. "Now my friend, I am ready to hear your plans,' said Mr. Bodine, as McDaniels took a seat after closing the door. "They are simple; but if boldly carried out, will put you in possession of the prize which you so much covet!" said McDauiels. "I know precisely how the lady is situated. She is poor and proud, and has a mother who worries the life almost out of her. If you gained possession of her by a bold and forcible step, she might rave a little at first; but when she finds out that you have wealth to lay at her feet-the power to commuand every luxury for her, her ravings 'Will cease, and her frowns will be turned into smiles!" "Do you really think so, my dear Sir?" "Indeed do!" said McDaniels. "For I know her disposition and temper well. ' You know that a person who has been used to luxury Victor never get willingly used to pov- erty ai. u ls restraints." TiThar, is so; :and if the lovely Inicognita once becomes mine, she shall revel in every luxury which money can command. But how ,'to you propose that I should get her?" "Watch her as she returns home after 'the concert-saloon closes, have a couple of trusty men to aid you, and a carriage, the driver of which will obey orders without asking ques- tions. Have some safe place where she can be kept under restraint until she chooses to live quietly without it-have her carried there, and the victory is yours!" ," Your plan is good-but where to find proper men to aid in its execution will 'be a difficulty," said Mr. Bodine. "Not at all, Sir, not at all," said McDaniels, quietly. ," Money can command and procure anything in this city, Sir. Why, I could get your throat cut for twenty-five dollars!" "O Lord! I beg you not to think of such a thing!" said Mr. Bodine, nervously. "Don't be alarmed. I only make the re- mark comparatively. I can get you carriage, men and all, for a hundred dollars, tand you can then supervise the afrair yourself?' '"Can you? Do it, and I will not legrudge twice the sum. Do it, and count on my friend- ship forever!': "If you should live so long," said McDan iels, with a smile. "But you may consider the men as good as engaged. It will take a day or two to arrange matters, but, when all is ready, my' plan will go like clock-work!" "I hope so. You think 'there is no chance of winning the girl without force?" "None in the world. She will permit no advances, you see. If she would only receive visitors and 'presents, a wealthy man like, yourself would stand an easy chance of win- ning by presents and attentions. But she will see no one, answer no letters, receive no presents!"' "Then what one cannot gain by fair means i must be achieved by foul ones. For cost what it may, possess her I will!" said Bodine. I "I leave the preparation of the plan all to ; you, Mr. McDaniels. Herere are a couple -of hundred .dollars for you to use, in advance. Let me see you every evening at the saloon, r until all is ready for action." f "Certainly, sir," said McDaniels, pocket- ; ing the money. "But remember, Sir, when ; the young lady is to be carried off, you must i be along, to be sure that all goes right and d that she is properly taken care of." "Oh yes-I will be in the carriage, for so much beauty cannot be too tenderly handled. And now, my dear Sir, as it is getting late I I will go home." u "Not until you have taken a bottle of wine ;o with me, I hope," said McDaniels. "I will v- ring and have it brought up." "Do not trouble yourself, my dear Sir."' a "It is more- of a pleasure than a trouble, y Mr. Bodine. I insist upon it." ut The old gentleman was not very difficult of ?" persuasion-so the wine was ordered and me drank, ahd then they parted. ty page: 58-59[View Page 58-59] CHAPTER XXSIV. PBATHEB-BED COMHORT AND A DPRAMLESS SBLEEP. Thie young officer found when, aided by the planter and his faithful servant, he entered the mansion, comforts of which he had not even dreamed in that region. He was con- veyed to a fine room, where some very ne- cessary refreshments were at once provided for him, and then he was taken,by his gener- ous host to a bathroom, -which adjoined the chamber where he was to sleep, in which he found not only the conveniences for a much, needed bath, but utensils also for shaving and completing his toilet. Linen and a new suit of the planter's clothes were also provided for him, so that he could appear in a complete*state of renovation. Never before had soap and water seemed so much a luxury as then ;and when after bathing he dressed himself in the new and clean clothing, and having shaved and comb. ed the tangles from his hair, he hardly knew himself as he looked into the mirror before him. It seemed like a dream to him, the change ftiom dirt and rags to cleanliness-- from the lthy prison to that lofty and com- fortable room. His host met him when he came from the bath, and guided him at once to his sleeping- chamber, for he knew how much he needed rest. "I would like to talk to you and hear all 'the history of your capture and escape!" said the planter. "But you need rest so much, that we will defer conversation until another time. I have brought a glass of mulled wine, which will strengthen, while it soothes your i nerves. Drink it and then sleep, and pleasant; dreams to you!" ; And the good planter set the goblet of I wine and a nightlamp upon a table nAar the 3 bed, and left his guest. The officer looked at the bed with its snowy 1 coverlet and its overhanging canopy of silk, i and feltthe pillows of down, and wondered I whether it would be possible for him to sleep: in such a comfortable place after his long ex- perience in the softness of planks and the i cold ground. i HUe hesitated before he disrobed and turned t into the yielding mass of feathers and linen, X and when he did sink down into the luxury r of the feather bed, it was with a kind of shiver, as if he was sinking into water. f Had he been less fatigued, less completely exhausted, he never coud have slept in such a comfortable bed-he would have tossed about all night, restlessly, in it. But as it was, D he sank away almost instantlyr into a dream- less stupor, from which he id not wake un- til late in the next morning. For when he I opened his eyes, the sun was shining into his w room, and honest Moses was standing near the heaof the bed, with a huge cup of hot - cffee il his hand, ready for him to drink aa e an eye-opener. d "Ole xars'r told me to say, Sah, if you t liked peach and honey better dan coffee, now, - for you. to ay so, and I'd fotch it right to i you!" said Moses. d "No; this coffee is best for me," said the officer, feebly rising in bed: for he was very e weak and helpless yet-perhaps more so be- e cause the stern necessity for exertion was not h, now upon him. i "Ole Mars'r told me too to ax you how you was dis mornin', and to say dat you'd o better take a good long rest afore you tried to I get up. I'm to bring your breakfast up here as soon as you are ready for it." [ "Your master is very kind, Moses--very * kind indeed. Tell him that I have slept like a log; and though I feel very sore and weak, I am a great deal better than I was last night; I will take his advice, however, and keep my bed tor awhile yet, until I feel stronger." Yes, Sah I Dat will please oe Mars'r mightily. He'll come and see you his own self, by and by, after you've done got your breakfast. ,What would you like, Sir? We have got fish, and pig, and chicken, and sweet taters, and nrice, and hominy, and corn-cakes, with butter jest made." "Anything that comes handy, Moses. A man that has been starved as long as I have been, can't stop to be particular now. Stewed sole-leather would have been a luxury to me yesterday." "De good Lor'l I doesn't see how you stood it. Marsr! Why, my belly hollers loud enough if I go only a day without my 'lowance, and you doesn't look as if you'd had a baby's allowance for a long time. But I musn't stand talkin' here while you're wait- in' for somethin' to eat, and it's all ready. I'll bring you up some eggs. and chicken, and some hominy right away. Would you like a bottle of claret, Sah? The Mars'r drinks one every mornin' wid his breakfast." Yes, if you please, Moses. It is an old French custom, but it goes well on an Amer- ican stomach," said the officer, handing Moses the coffee-cup. which he had emptied. - Pass me .the washbowl and towel and .I'll try to rub the dust out of my eyesl" "Yes, Sah. Dere dey s Now I'll go and fotch your breakfast!" CHAPTER XXXV. DEMAREST AND THE PROPRIETOR OP TEB APOLLONIOA OVER A FRIENDLY; GLASS. After McDaniels had left the box of anson Demarest, the latter touched a bell-cord which communicated with a bell at the bar. In answer, a few moments after, one of the se pretty waiter-girls made her appearance. be !"Anything wanted, Sir?" she asked, with a stereotyped smile on her painted face. I "Yes, my dear-a fresh bottle of wine, if at you please, some more cigars; and ask Mr. w McCaw to do me the honor to help me use to up the wine!" said Demarest, tossing a bank- bill' upon the salver which the girl was car- rying. - The girl hurried away to fill the order, and be soon came back with the wine and cigars, n: saying that Mr. McCaw would soon be there in person. d "Keep the change yourself, my dear i" said h the young man, as the girl began to 'count the change out, which was due from his bill. l *' Oh, thank you, Sir--thank you a thou- P sand times. I wish more of our customers i were as generous as you are!" said the. grati- fied girl, putting the money in her pocket, -1( and retiring as Mr. McCaw came into the I box. '( I felt lonesome, and wanted company over c this bottle of your good wine, so I sent for a you, Mr. McCaw i" said Demarest to the man- s ager as he entered. ( "Thank you; you're very kind. It must be rather lonesome in this box all by yourself. ] But it is not your choice-you could have i company without much trouble, if you wish- ed it!" said Mr. McCaw, as he took a seat and a glass of wine. A"Yes, I know it. But I have an object in J keeping out of sight! I do not deny that I am very much in love with your new debutante, who takes for her stage-name the charming cognomen of Bertha Incognita. But for many reasons I do not wish her to know of it at present, or even to be aware that a per- son of my name is a witness to her triumphs, In the most delicate way I shall take means, to make my admiration known to her; but she must not know who her admirer is until I am ready for the denouement. For that rea- son I permanently engaged this box, and you will not often find me absent from it!" "Yes, I see And I nowthink I can guess who the diamond-ring caine from last night, which so mystified the lady!" said Mr. Mc- Caw, with a knowing look. "Do not let her know of it-do not let her even dream where it came from, at present 1" said Demarest, hastily. "Of course not. But she is deuced anxious to know where it came from. She even ask- ed ame if I was not the generous donor. But L told her that my purse could sharcely af- ford such generosity as that! She is crazy to know who presented it, not out of mere curiosity, but because She wishes to return it!" "Just what I feared, Mr. McCaw. So you see how necessary it is that my secret should be kept 1" I' Yes, yes; I see. You need not fear that I will betray it, and so lose the most profit- able of my customers I No, Sir. I know when I have butter on my bread too well for that 1" "Thank you-take another glass of wine!" "Much obliged--I will How do you like my, dancers, Mr. Demarest? Isn't the Rall a beauty? And that Welter girl--isn't she magnificent?" They are both very handsome, and they dance superbly, but a man who is in love only has eyes for his heart's idol." "So I suppose; but never having been in love myself, can't say. Love is rather too ex- pensive an article for me to indulge in, judg- ing by the way it affects you!" "' So expensive that it only ought to be al- - lowed as a luxury to those who can afford it. But I presume that the poorest have their loves; but I never hear of love in a cottage or an attic, without thinking it must grow cold and hungry! Take another glass of that splendid wine, Mr. McCaw. That is the sort of stuff to feed love on!" i4 Ha-ha I You have wit in your philoso- phy, Mr. Demarest. But you must excuse me after this glass, I am wanted in front." CHAPTER XXXVI. NEW CHARACTERS-ROUGH, AND NOT BOUGH DIAMONDS EITHER. In a basement-grogshop, on the west side of the city, where emigrant-runners, bounty- r jumpers, thieves, and first-class rowdies were constant visitors, three men were sitting at a side-table drinking and smoking, whom, hav- ing some business with, we will take a look 3 at; that is, if we can look through the smoky, t gloom Which the one or two miserable lamps 1 min the room serves to make visible. They are well-that is warmly-dressed, i well supplied with flashy jewelry in the shape of rings, breastpins, and huge gold watch- s chains, but their faces are exceedingly well- ;, defined maps of- unmtigated rascality. They - are not bloated with liquor---your profession- al villain never gets so debased as that, he r would be useless in his line, if he did. But ' cool, cunning,-pitiless, lack of heart, and of all sympathy with humanity, sheer selfishness s and coarse brutality could be read in each of - their faces. Nt ot a face among them but which ex- - hibited scars, not such scars as a soldier glo- o ries in having received, battle-given, but ,e marks of some beastly rough-and-tumnble en- n counter, or of some policeman's club, given in making their arrest for some one of their u many and frequent breaches of the law. page: 60-61[View Page 60-61] With close-out hair, hard-looking hands, soiled by dirt but not by labor, these fellows sat and smoked, and dranked and talked over their aftiirs in a tone so low. that no outsider could hear what they were saying. Suddenly, a lburth person, who had just entered the room, approached them. I It was McDaniels, the well-paid tool of Anson Dem- arest. He seemed to know them and to be known by them, for as he advanced and joined their circle, he said, in a familiar tone : "n How goes it, boys? Out of work just now p" !"Nothin' much on 'and Just now, Sir. Brads are gettin' low with hus," said the red- dest-faced man of the three, a pug-nosed, bull- dog looking fellow, whose misuse of h's betok- ened his birthplace to have been within the . , sacred limits of Bow-bell music. "' Well, I have something on hand for you that will pay pretty Well, I reckon; and if you work your cards well you can make something handsome out of it. Do you keep your hack yet, Jack?" "Yes, Sir," replied another, who was re.- markable for extreme ugliness and a very dirty face; I drive the old wagon ydt. Do you want it P" "Yes, and all three of you to do a job for a gentleman who is rich enough to lose a i few hundreds in trying to abduct a girl whom t he cannot get in any other way." ' A habduction, is hit?" said the English- t man, shaking his bull-head. "I don't like them hover-hand-habove particular. They're v risky-they smell of prison-bars and 'and- t "There will be no risk in this case," said t Mr. McDaniels, " for I do not mean the old covey to have the girl at all. He will get n her into the carriage, and that through your -1 "help; but just as you are going to drive offt I and another friend, both in disguise, you h understand, are to come along and rescue the -1 girl. You are to run away while we are fa pitching into the old devil; and as he wears at a diamond ring and breastpin worth three cl or four thousand-dollars or more, and a splen- w did gold watch, and carries a well-filled pocket-book, you would *be foolish to leave gE them with him." W " Hof course, we would,)' said the English- as man. ," We'd relieve 'im hof them hafore p we left, without doubt 1" n " Well, will you take the job? Here are we greenbacks that will count up to one hun. in dred dollars to clinch the bargain, if you say "I say it's a go 1" said the hack-driver. ca And 'ere is one of the same hopinion I! M said the Englishman. 1" What do you say to ga it, Slippery 'Enry " ge" I am in for any game you open," said the Ws other man, in agruff tone. er "ell, I see you are all agreed," said er McDaniels " There is your money. Meet theold gentleman at the corner of Grand st and Thompson streets with your hack, to as morrow-night at eleven o'clock, and obey na- his directions. But, remember, when you. hear the word ' rescue', though you pretend to In fight, you musn't hit me or my fiend, who ir will be masked; but you must skedaddle as soon as you have cleaned the old gent out of st his jewelry and money. Just pitch him out, ,and leave him on the pavement, and drive r. off with the hack, while we take the girl - home. - Do you understand the plan?" d "Y es, Sir, and we'll do it hup in style," t- said the Englishman. "Won't you take a Le adrop hof somnethin' ." "No, thank you, I'm in a hurry. There u is your money; divide it, and be sure to be if on hand at the hour to-morrow-night," said e McDaniels. p And throwing down a roll of notes, he left the stifling and smoky atmosphere as soon as he could. CHAPTER XXXVII. A RICH BACHELOR IN IS SANCTUM. r Prom the "select" circle which he visited in our last chapter, Mr. McDaniels hastened I to keep an appoinment which he had made with ]Mr. Bodine, in the luxurious home of the last-named gentleman. It was a bachelor-home; for, with all of his wealth,. Mr. Bodine had lived what purported to be a single life, though hisproclivities would almost have put a Mormon elder to the blush. Mr. Bodine kept up a regular establish- ment; had as many servants as he would have had, had he been the husband and father, of a family, instead of the master of a house- hold whose nearest relatives consisted of a -lot of nephews, nieces, and cousins, who fawned around him while he lived, winking at all his irregularities-eccentricities they called them-in hopes that his speedy death would leave them a portion of his riches. His house was fuinished with all the ele- gance. which modern taste and his boundless- wealth would command-his table, fiequently surrounded by convivial friends, the female portion not always of the most unblemished name, was laden with plate-his. servants were in livery--his carriages second to none in the cit ge econd to none Upon ringing the bell at the marble front of this palatial residence, and. handing his card to the servant who answered his ring, Mr. McDaniels was first ushered into an ele- gant parlor, and after the card had been seen by Mr. Bodinn, taken at once into the presence of that gentleman in what he called his library. Books there were a few upoh a half-dozen shelves, but the most of the room was taken up with marble statuary and paint- ings-the most of it classical, but of a style better suited to the character and the days of licentious Pompeii than that which would be supposed to be proper for an old man in a Christian age to possess and exhibit. Thousands upon thousands of dollars had thus been expended by this old iman; not to encourage art, but to please his own'. vitiated mind. In this room McDaniels found him reclin- ing on a rose-colored sofa, with a French novel in his hand. "Glad to see you, Sir. Take a chair, Mr. McDaniels!" drawled the old roue. Then to the servant he added: "Robert, bring wine-wine and goblets-some of that Hock- heimer for this time of day is best!" The servant bowed and went for the wine, and laying his novel aside, Mr. Bodine asked : "How does your plan prosper, my friend? Have you found the men to aid in our little affair?" '-Yes, Sir; they are already engaged. They will meet you with a carriage at the corner of Grand .and Thompson streets, at eleveu o'clock, to-morrow-night, precisely. They will be there to a minute, and you can be ready to seize the lady when she passes that very corner about fifteen minutes later, or twenty minutes at the most, on her way home. She leaves the saloon every night at eleven precisely, I have observed, and I also find that it' takes her from fifteen to twenty minutes to reach that corner on her way. There is only one thing which annoys me-a young girl who lives in the same house with her goes and comes in her com- pany every night! She will be in the way." "Bad-yes, quite awkward that will be! But is the young girl good-looking?" "Ys--younger than the one whom you have set: your heart upon, and very pretty I Innocent-too, as a child! In truth, she 'is al- most a child yet, not more than sixteen, if so much 1" "Oh, then, it isn't so bad after all!" said the old man, rubbing his skinny palms together- as he always did when anything particularly pleased him. "1 can take 'em both-yes, 'I can take 'em both; and when I get tired of one charmer, why I can make love -to the other. Capital--capital. This isn't killing two birds with one stone, but it is catching two doves in one net; Ha I ha! There comes the wine; it is almost as old as I am and twice as juicy-ha I ha I Take a glass;- Mr. McDaniels, and it will set your blood afire- as it does mine I You can go, Robert-you can go, but keep within sound of my bell!" McDaniels drank a goblet of the delicious wine, and it did run through his veins like an electric fire. "Your wine is indeed splendid, Mr. Bo- dine," he said. "Yes--it is the best in the city. I keep that and a few other choice vintages to warm up my blood when I begin to feel old. When I have any cold beauty to thaw, if I can get a glass or two of my choice Rhenish past her lips, she leaves the arctic for the torrid circle in a little while, as a general thing. By the way, do the men you have engaged thorough- ly understand what they have to do?" "Yes, Sir. I have explained it all. And they will obey your instructions to the letter. I have paid them, so you have nothing to do but to go and see the girls picked up, their pretty mouths muffled so that their screams cannot be heard, and have them driven home; for of course you will have them brought here." "Oh yes-I have got a part of my house arranged purposely for such birds as they are. A cage as pretty as it can be made, and too strong for them to get out of if they try. I call it my harem. I will show it to you by and by, after we have had a little lunch, which I am about to ring for. But first, in appreciation of your services, allow me to make you a little present." And Mr. Bodine went to a small cabinet, and unlocking it, took from among a mass of glittering jewels a diamond-ring: "Wear that, my dear Sir, in remembrance of one who has his follies, but who never lets kind services go unrewarded," said he, as he handed the glittering jewel to McDaniels. "' I have my whims, but I can afford to pay, for them. I can't live very long, but I mean to enjoy life while I can." 6 Horrible!" murmurs the reader, who for him or herself has a consciousness that there is a hereafter-another life in another world, after death has removed us from this. Can it be, asks that reader, that there are men or women whose age has led them to the very verge of the grave, who still continue in -their careless or even criminal course, without a thought of the world beyond? I can only say, drawing, as I always do, every character that I depict from real life, that; judging from their actions through life even up to the hour of their death, there must be such persons. Heaven grant that they may be few, and those few be terrible examples to others I. While Mr. McDalniels was examining, with marked delight, the rich gift which now glittered upon his finger, Mr. Bodine rang for the lunch which he had spoken of. We will leave him and his co-plotter in iniquity to the enjoyment of it. page: 62-63[View Page 62-63] CHATER 2X LKVULL NEWS AT LAST FROM THE LOVED ONE. 4A letter, dear mother-a letter for you, dear mother 1" cried Maggie Sherman, as she ran almost breathlessly into the room where her mother was working upon some army- pants for a contract-fattened firm in the city. "It is not from Edward t It is not his handwriting I dread to open it. Itmay be from a stranger to tell me that he is dead I Did you get it from the Post Office?" said MLrs. 8. "Yes, mother; you see that it is addressed to an old number, where we lived just after he had gone away. I saw it advertised, and went after it this morning without telling you, for I wished to be sure that it was for you. But it has your initials, and it must be for you 1" "I am afraid to open it. I feel as if I should read in it that my poor boy is dead 1" reiterat- ed Mrs. Sherman. "Rather hope that you will hear of his safety and health and of his prospects of a speedy return to you, my dear Mrs. Sher- man," said Louise Lorraine, who had come from her room, just in time to hear Mrs. Sherman speak, and to see how the hand trembled which held the letter-poor worn and wasted hand, almost used up in the struggle for life at the needle's point I "What an angel you are, dear girl!" said Mrs. Sherman, whose eyes in an instant glit- tered with tears. "You always have a cheer- ing word for me. Open it for me, and let me hear good news, if there be such, from your own sweet lips" " Louise took the lbtter and tore open the envelope. A radiant smile broke over her face, as she took in its brief contents at a glance. "I told you it contained good news 1" she cried. "Listen :" "' DEAR MADAM:-Your son has escaped from prison, and is safe under the roof of a true friend and a Union man, who, at great risk to himself, pens these lines, and trusts them to one of his negroes to carry beyond the Rebel lines, if he can get there. The health of your son, which was bad is now almost entirely regained, and measures are being taken by .which i hope he will soon be able safely to reach you. I can- not now sign my name nor is it safe for him to write, lest his .handwriting should be recognized by those who would too gladly recapture himn; but I hope be- fore many days to be able to see in person the meeting between yourself and one of the noblest-hearted young men that I have, ever met with. God preserve us all till then . A FRIEND." "Oh! thank God-thank God!" exclaimed the widow, as she dropped, weeping with joy, upon her knees. " Thank God!-thank God ." she sobbed, as she took the letter from Louise, and .presed, it to her bosom and to her lips. "My son that was lost is found again-. he that was dead has come back to life!" And Louise and Maggie mingled their glad tears with hers; for one knew that her dear brother lived-the other felt that one upon whom she had centred a virgin heart's un- asked-for love was yet in the 'world of the living. It was a joyful hour to those toiling, suffer- ing women. How many a heart now sad would be made. light-how many an eye which is, perhaps, now perusing the lines which' I have here written, would glisten all as' bright with the heart's 'full tide of gladness, if they could hear good news from some patriot son, brother, or lover who has long languished in the accursed hands of the Rebel, fe. Heaven grant them the pleasure, I pray. CHAPTER XXXIX. THE ATTEMPTED ABDUCTION-THE MASKED FRIENDS. Another night in our life-drama-up curtain, good manager, for- another and a thrilling scene I Closely wrapped in hoods and mantles, Louise Lorraine and Maggie Sherman -were hurrying home from the concert-saloon, at the usual hour. Both were lighter-hearted than usual. Nothing had occurred to wound the sensitive delicacy of Louise at the concert, and both were yet happy at the good news which had been received from Edward Sherman on that morning. They walked fast, as they always did, that they might not be mistaken for the painted and wretched street-walker, whose loitering step' in the street too plainly tells that she lies in wait for some victim to her faded charms. They were within a few blocks of their, home, when, stepping a little aside to avoid some men who were standing before a car- riage drawn close up to the sidewalk, they heard a voice cry out: "There they are-in with them quick!" -The nextinstant, they were seized roughlv by the men whom they had stepped asicc to avoid, their heads muffled in their own cloaks, and found themselves lifted into the carriage. Louise uttered one wild scream, and struggled all she could, and Maggie tried to scream too, but her head was muffled too quickly. Oh the agony of that moment to the poor, helpless girls. Who can imagine-who can portray it? "In with them and drive off quick-there are some men running down the street!" cried the voice which they had first heard. Louise and Maggie tried hard to scream again, and to teari their heads away from the muffling, and in a moment they heard a new voice shout; * . "Rescue-rescue I Down with the vil- lains! Down with them!" Louise heard a fearful struggle going on around her, and then in her terror and ex- citement she fainted away. It was not long, however, that she remain- ed' insensible; and when she recovered her consciousness, she found herself near the door of the house where she lived, supported be- tween two well-dressed gentlemen, and with little Maggie close by her. "Oh, where am I I'she murmured, "What has happened?" "You came near being the victim of a scoundrel, Miss Lorraine," said a deep toned, manly voice by her side; "but, most for- tunately, I accidentally received information of his plot just in time to 'prevent its consum- mation, and to so punish him, that he will be careful how he attempts the ruin of the inno- cent and helpless! Assisted by a friend, I put the hired minions of the man who sought your ruin, to flight; and if he has not half a dozen broken bones for a time, for the sur- geon to mend, it is not my fault." "Sir, I am deeply grateful to-you and your friend for this most timely assistance?" said Louise, and then, for the first time,.noticing that both of her protectors wore masks, she asked the reason of their disguise. "Because, fair lady, in the first place, we -did not wish the wealthy and powerful man who sought to drag you away to ruin, or the desperadoes who were in his employ, to know us, or our lives hereafter would be in con- stant jeopardy. And we did not wish' to be known in doing an act of kindness, by one whom we have both known in better and happier days. Pardon and excuse an act founded upon sincere respect and true deli- cacy 1" "You have known me before-yet your voice does not sound familiar!" said Louise, doubtingly. "Voices, like faces, may be disguised, kind lady. We do not seek to recall past memories, and we only wish tqvassure you that you have friends, who will, in secret, ever watch for your welfare. That our hearts mean right, our actions will 'prove. At present, seek to know no more of us. You are now near your home, and you are safe, We will leave you, and should any future danger assail you, we will endeavor to be so watchful as to shield' you from it P' i' Sir-I can only express my deep and last- ing gratitude! If the prayers of two helpless girls will .call blessings down upon your heads, you will surely be blessed!" "Heaven will listen to prayers from such lips!" said the speaker, and he gallantly raised the passive hand of Louise to his lips and re- spectfully pressed it, then bowing and adding a low " good-night", he and his companion turned, and left the girls standing at the door of the house where they lived. ' . "This has been a fearful adventure!" said Louise, as they both paused and looked at the retreating forms of their brave and kind res- cuers. "I do not think we had better speak of it to your mother, dear Maggie, for it will alarm her dreadfully. Shall we not keep it a secret, my dear?" "Yes, Miss Iouise-for I do not wish to frighten mother. She might refuse to let me go out at night, ,and then it would be dread- ful if you had to go and come alone!" "4 Yes, it would indeed, Maggie. I wish I had found out, from our unknown friends, who this man was who attempted the cruel outrage, for he richly deserves to be punish- ed. But our friend said the man was rich. We are poor, and the poor have no law-no justice!" There was bitterness in the poor girl's tone when she uttered this sad truth. "I am afraid we shall both look pale and flurried when we get into the light!" said Maggie. "We must tell mother that we were slightly alarmed by rude men whom we passed in the street-but that they did us no harm " - "Yes-let us go in. I am very weak and terribly nervous! I wish I knew who the friends were who served us. We will, in- deed, remember them 'in our prayers to- night." And the girls entered the gloomy-looking house before them. CHAPTER XL. A LOOK AT MR. BODINE UNDER A CLOUD. At an early hour on the day succeeding that on which the failure of Mr. Bodine to se- cure the person of Louise Lorraine occurred, Mr. McDaniels called at the residence of the rich old bachelor. His pretence was to in- quire if Mr. Bodine had successfully achieved his purpose. But, having been himself one of the causes of the failure of the plot, this knowl- edge was already his. His real object was to see how the old roue bore his defeat, and whether there would be any further prospects of plucking at the pin-feathers of so rich a pigeon. There was considerable delay before he was admitted to the chamberin which the old man lay groaning; and he found him, when ad- mitted, in a most pitiable state, his. eye black- ed and swollen, his face cut and bruised, his whole body pounded into a jelly. "My dear Sir, what is the matter?" asked the anxious friend, in the most sympathetic manner. "Have you met with any acci- dent?" page: 64-65[View Page 64-65] "Been pounded almost to death, and lost the girl after I had her plump form actually in my arms, Sir; and robbed, too, Sir,.robbed of money and jewelry to the amount of over ten thousand dollars, Sir! Yes, Sir, robbed as well as pounded to death!" "Horrible! Why, who could have done it?" "The Lord only knows, and I have too lit- tle to do with the Lord, or the Lord's people, -ever to find out!" said the old roue with a groan. "The men seemed all right, the girls came along, and we had 'em safe into the car- riage, when a crowd of men came rushing up, crying ' rescue', and the next I knew of my- self, I was lying in the gutter, bruised all to a jelly, and nearly deadc What became of the men, or the girls, or the carriage, I don't know, for I was knocked out of my senses in the first of the melee." "They were not policemen who interrupt- ed you?"?' "No, or I should have found myself in the station-house when I came to my senses. And they couldn't have been honest people, or 1 would not have been robbed of my pock- et-book and jewelry, watch and all. I am afraid, whoever they were, that they have carried off the girls on their own account, and I shall lose them too, as well as my prop- erty!" And the old man groaned bitterly at the thought. "I will find out for you, my dear Sir! I am afraid that the men you had with you have fared badly, for' they would have defended you to the last, if they had been able. They were desperate fighting-men, I know!" "Well, there was a desperate fight going on around me, the last I know. What has be. come of them, I cannot imagine; I care hot, if I could only get the girls safe into my hands. It will be weeks before I'm fit to go out, I'm afraid; though the surgeon says that I have not got any broken bones." "; Oh, you will soon be out, Sir. Raw oys- ters and leeches will soon restore the color of your eyes, and the bruises on your face will not show a great while." "' No, but the bruises on my body will ache a cursed while, I expect. Oh, it was a miser. able failure! a miserable failure, when all was working so well! If I had only got the girls safe home with me, though, I wouldn't care for the bruises; but I've lost them I -I've lost them!" "Perhaps not, my dear Sir. Do not give up hope of them. I will aid you myself in another attempt to get them, and lay plans which cannot tail, for I feel as greatly disap-. pointed as you do in this matter. You can rely upon me, Sir; you can rely upon me!" "Thank you, my dear friend, thank you I1 You are very good! I will depend upon you, and I hope you will find out what has become of the girl, and come and let me know." "I will, Sir, as soon as possible. Now let your servant get some large, freshy-opened. oysters, and lay them on your face, under your eyes, and after they have been on half an hour, let him get some leeches, and place on the spots which are darkest. You will soon be able to be out again, and be looking as well as ever." "Oh, I hope so. It is hard to have to lie here and suffer, when I have so little time to live at any rate. I want every hour I have left, to enjoy myself in, and there is precious little enjoyment in lying here." And the old man groaned again over his disappointmentment as well as with pain. "Do not fret, my dear Sir; do not fret!'" said McDaniels. "I hope soon to return with good news for you, and to find you bet- ter. Let your servant make the application which I recommended, and you will soon' look better and feel easier." And Mr. McDaniels having given this ad- vice, left to fulfill his promise of finding,out where the girls were. OHAPTER XLI. ANOTHER PEEP AT MR. DEMAREST. From the 'residence of Mr. Bodiue, Mc- Daniels went to the quarters of Anson Dem- arest to impart to him the information he had gained. He found Demarest anxious to hear how the old gentleman felt under his bruises and disappointments. "And he has no suspicion that he Was robbed by the men whom he had employed to aid in the abduction?" said Demarest, after McDaniels had concluded his state- ment. "No; they did their work so cleanly and so quickly, after I gave the old rat tiha first gentle tap between the eyes, that Jhoy were off before he needed a second blow to add to his beauty, and make him feel the error of his ways. He was pretty well used up-he was soft as putty, or the Hew thumps and kicks that I gave him would never have made him such a picture. 'He looks as if he had gone through twenty or thirty rounds of a well-contested prize-fight.", "The old sinner! He deserves it all for trying to be a libertine at his age. And now what is your next move, McDaniels?" "I hardly know, Sir, until we find out how the girls act after their scare. Miss Lorraine may be afraid to go out at night again." "How can she help herself?. iave :you left her any other chance by which she can get a living?" No, Sir, but she might sell or pawn that diamond-ring which you wasrather too soft, I think, in giving to her, and live on its pro- ceeds." ," No danger of that. You do not know her nature as well as I do. She will keep it carefully until she knows from whom it came, and then I shall get it back, with any amount of scorn in its company. It is only lent. I could hardly keep from laughing when she said she would pray for Heaven to bless us. She little knew who she was. ex- pending her gratitude upon. By the way, that little Sherman girl is a perfect beauty. I wouldn't be so hard on her, if she didn't dling so close to the Lorraine. It wouldn't take a great deal to make me fall in love with her." "She is rather a lovable piece, and of the rosebud order!" "Rose-bud and lily, for I have no doubt she is as pure as a snowflake before it reach- ed the'earth!" "Yes, Sir-too simple-minded to be other- wise. She is one of that nature whom the thought of jewels. and. fine dresses cannot lead astray. Nothing but all-blinding love could ever lead her out of the path of virtue. When a youn girl loves, she believes all too much in the object of her love, and if he be keen and unscrupulous, then her chances of safety are few and far between!" "Very true--fit subjects they 'to point a moral and adorn a tale', as some philosopher or other has it! Are. you going to the con- cert-saloon to-night?" "Yes, Sir. I want to keep an eye on your friend Crib, as well as to learn whether the fright of last night has affected the voice of the lady!" "Well, I will be there. Come into my box during the evening. I think I shall give the lady a love-hint to-night, if my mind does not change between now and then!" CHAPTER XLII. A TRIP TO GEORGIA AGAIN. A week in the comfortable quarters pro- vided: for him by the kind planter made the escaped Union officer feel almost like a new man. Soap and water, combs and razors, clean linen, good food, and rest, had so al- tered him in looks and feelings, from the for- lorn and miserable object that he was when he first came under that hospitable roof, that' he hardly knew himself when he moved up in front of the large pier-glass, and look- ed at his face, already fresh in color, and his form, fast losing its skeletonic leanness. Thus far he had seen but two persons, his hospitable entertainer and the -negro Moses. or it was very necessary that no knowledge I of his being there should reach any seces-,'] sionist, whether they were of the Army or not; for even civilian Rebels would have been as ready to give him up, or to inform of him, as those who were clad in uniforms of gray. His host, for the first week of his stay, visited him frequently; but his visits were brief, only' to see that all his wants were supplied, and not of pufficient . length for much conversa, tion: But on the evening of the seventh or eighth day, the young officer was agreeably surprised to see Moses set his table with plates for two, and to be informed that the planter was going to join him at supper. And soon the kind old man made his ap- pearance, warmly greeting his guest, and com- plimenting him upon his improved condi. tion. "You have gained wonderflly-won- derfully, my young friend l'? aid he. I think Moses has been a pretty good' nurse!" Capital, Sir!" responded the officer. "I could not have had a better one "., "I am glad of it. I thought I would come and sup with you this evening, for I have some good news for you. I have heard from the negro whom I sent the letter by, which we. hoped would reach your mother. To keep up my character as a'loyal man to the Confederacy, it was necessary for me to' offer a reward for the man, and to have an effort made to retake him. This I did, after I had given him plenty of time to get clear. I have heard this afternoon,;that he escaped safely into the Yankee lines, much to the regret of those who hoped to get the reward for his capture!" o"Sir, I am most grateful to you I Thanks to you and to Heaven, my dear mother and sister will know of my safety, and be relieved from'the terrible anxiety which must have oppressed 'them. "And I have other news, which is terribly agitating my neighbors, and filling the citi- zens of the State, generally, with alarm; al-. though, I confes, It gives me more pleasure than fear. Your namesake, Sir, the brave General who added to his many triumphs that. of taking Atlanta, is boldly marching into. the heart of the State, laying his course toward the Atlantic seaboard; and one of his three columns must necessarily pass very close to this place, without he is driven back. And that he cannot do, unless Lee weakens his Army and endangers Richmond by sending troops here. So you see that matters o0ok very favorable for you, oided; and you may hope soon to find powerful friends, whom you. can easily jon i their triumphant march!" "My dear Sir, your news is indeed good- it is more, it is glorious 1"Genieral Sherman is making a bold dash f he intends to pierce the heart of the Confederacy; but he has the head to plan and the firmness to carry page: 66-67[View Page 66-67] 'through the boldest of undertakings. School- ed early in the service by old 'Rough and Ready', in the war with the wily Seminoles;, hardened by the same brave leader, and by the hero of Lundy's Lane in the Mexican im- broglio, he has culminated, into all that can make a daring, successful, and compe- tent general. I am proud that I, too, bear the name of Sherman; and I only grievethat the same blood does not fill my veins! I hope, when he does reach this point, or any place where I can join him, that I may have enough of my strength restored to be able to wield a sword under his command!" "If you keep on improving as you have done for the past week, Sir, you will soon be ready for anykind of service. From the way that I hear hemarches, with slowand regular stages, it will be near, or qite a couple of weeks; before he reaches this vicinity; and two weeks of rest will make you nearly a well man, I hope 1" "It will indeed, Sir. And to your noble generosity I shall owe my life. I know not how I can ever prove my gratitude?." "Say nothing about it, my young friend, say nothing about it. I am only too happy to have it in my power to do even this little good for the Union cause. When the Gen. eral comes along, if he will accept' what proof I can give of my loyalty to the Union cause and guarantee me safe escort with such property and money as I can easily move with to the coast, I will take advantage of his kindness, and make my way beyond the dan- ger of Rebel interference with my liberty or property." "d Oh, Sir, you cannot tell how it rejoices me to hear of your decision I Your protec- dtion of me will be proof enough of your loyalty to the Union, and I will vouch for your safe-conduct through our lines." "I have little doubt but I will meet with kindness at the hands of the General. And now, as Moses has supper all ready, we will do justice to that; and I shall, in the meantime, claim the history which you promised me of your capture and escapee" "I will give the history with pleasure,. if it can interest you," said young Sherman. "I was captured when we were making a dash upon some Rebel. works, near Petersburg. Our egimentwasnm the front line; and seeing our color-bearer shot down in the heat of the' charge, I snatched the colors from the ground, as I had done once before, winning promotion by the act, and, bore them on ahead of the line. I wasiwounded twicebefore we reached the. Rebel breastworks. but I kept up and was the first into their works. But herewe found them too strong for us-a murderous fire swept away full half of our men, and I got a third shot, which -brought me to my knees. I saw that our men must retreat; and as I could not get away, I tossed the colors to a brave sergeant, who was yet unhurt, and told him to carry them off; .and I know that he did it, for the Rebels dared not follow our men up, even thinned off as they were. Of course, helpless as I was, I could but surren- der when called upon to do so; for further resistance in my case would have been madness, to say the least. I was carried to the rear, my wounds carelessly looked at; by a Rebel surgeon, and bandaged all as care- lessly by his steward;- and then I was sent first to the Libby, and then, before I was fit to be moved, sent down to Andersonville, to die or recover, as nature might see fit, for I had no surgical care after I was first attended to. I existed-I did not live-I existed for weeks in the wretched camp where they left us; and at last, hardly caring whether I was shot or not in making the attempt, I crawled out at night between the Rebel guards and crept away into-the'woods. For days I struggled and crept along, living on raw corn and roots, until I came to your plantation, and you know the rest." - "Yes, indeed. How terribly you suffered, your emaciated form but too plainly told when I first. beheld you. But I hope your suffering is all over now, and that a few weeks more only will elapse before you are with khose whom you love so much." "Thank you, Sir. The news you brought this evening makes the hope seem almost like a certainty. -And if you can be but a witness : to the joy which a mother will feel when she presses her only son to her breast, you will say, Sir, that I will be then repaid for all my suffering!" "I hope to be with you when you go. North I I, too, may find some one there, glad to see me, though I know not what changes long,. weary years have made! If one whom I hope to see is as perfect as her youth prom- ised that she would be, I may yet find a glad- ness in my old age which was denied to me in earlier days. I, too, have a history, which yo u shall hear at another time. I will not weary you with it to-night; for you must rest as much as possible, so as to gain strength before your fiends arrive in our vicinity." CHAPTER XLM. MORE JEWELRY AND MORE MYSTERY FOR OUR HEROINE. . Upon the arrival of Louise Lorraine at the concert-saloon on the night after the unpleas- ant street-adventure already related, she was ,surprised to, learn that Mr. McCaw had already been informed of the' unpleasant affair, and-had been engaged by the unknown friend who gave him the information, to send a trusty person home with her as an escort ' every night after that. a "Will you have the kindness to tell me -who it is that has taken this extraordinary interest in my safety, Sir?" she asked of the proprietor. "I cannot, my dear 'young lady, for -the gentleman would not give me his name. He said that he had been so fortunate as to foil and punish the villain who sought to ruin you, and that he wished me hereafter to take precautions which would shield you from such dangers in the future, offering to pay me liberally for doing so. But I refused com- pensation; for it is a duty as well as a pleasure on my part to look to your safety, and to pro- tect you from annoyance." - "I thank you, Sir, and I wish that I knew this kind stranger also, that I might thank him for his kindness and his delicacy toward a friendless girl. If you see him again, Sir, tell him that I am very grateful-please to do so!" ' "I certainly will, my dear young lady. 'And I will faithfully fulfill his desire that you are hereafter properly escorted and protected when you leave here at night 1" "Thank you, Sir-it will relieve me of much anxiety; for such danger as I escaped last night is too terrible to be looked upon lightly!" The proprietor now left Louise io arrange her dress for her appearance, and went to the front, to attend to his business there. - "-Have you no idea who this kind gentle- man ^s asked Maggie Sherman, as she assisted Louise to arrange her hair. "None whatever, Maggie 1" said Louise. "But he must be a gentleman, to. act so friendly and yet so unobtrusively. I confess to a strong desire to know who he is,; for much as I wish to avoid all society, I cannot but feel that such a friend as he has proved himself is too valuable not to know and to keep." . "Do you suppose that he comes to hear you singg .'?. "Most likely he does, since he seems to, take such an interest in my welfare. But I cahnot know him,- if he does, among the E hundreds who congregate here nightly. The faces I look upon all seem strange to me-in I fact, I hardly look. enough at.:them even. to i recognize an old acquaintance, .if one was a there. I recognized that Wall-street lawyer, 1 because his image was too deeply fixed on my mind as the wretch who aided in reduc- ing me to poverty, to be ever forgotten. I see him every night-but no one else'whom I can think I have ever Seen before I had to i descend to this method of obtaining a living. But it is nearly time for me to sing. I must look over my music " u - And the fair girl took up the music of the songs which she was to sing that evening, e and glanced over it until the call-boy came y totel her that her tum to go on had arrived. e As usual, her appearance was greeted-with tremendous applause, and a shower of bou. e quets and an encore, which forced her to a a second appearance as soon as her song was 1 closed. She had determined not to gather up the flowers which were so plentifully show- e ered around her, but a large bouquet of pure- ly white flowers so attracted her attention, that, in spite of her previous intention, she - stooped- and picked it, up, and carried it off, a leaving the others on the stage. * A package was attatched to the bouqtet,- which Maggie noticed the moment that Louise r' carried it into the dressing-room, where her * young friend waited for her. Seeing. that it was addressed to "Miss Louise Lorraine", the fair singer opened it, and found that it contained a costly bracelet, with her initials engraved on the inside. -With it was a slip of paper, on which these words were written: "Beauty, like thine, 'needs not the foreign aid of ornament', but it would much please the sincere friend who was so happy as to be of some slight service to her on last evening,- if she will wear this token of his appreciation of the noble spirit which enables her to bear up against the sea of trouble which would over. whelm a weaker mind or crush a spirit less firm and pure. And will Miss Lorraine also present the ring which shewill find inclosed, to the fair young friend who clings to her so fondly in her trials," There was no signature to the note. Louse looked at the splendid gift, and then unfolded the paper which contained the neat -ring intended for Maggie. It was an enameled " forget-me-not", set around with a circlet of diamonds, small, but very brilliant, a tasty as well as a splendid ponament. , "This is for you, Maggie,' from my un- known friend!" said Louise. Maggie's bright eyes sparkled more bril- liantly than ever, as she took the ring in her hand, examined, and tried it on her finger. "Will you keep and wear your bracelet!" she asked, of Louise. "I cannot return it until I know who is the giver!" said Louise. "And' a it evidently comes, from one of the persons who so nobly befriended us last night, I do not know but that it would seem ungrateful not to keep and wear the ornaments which he sends to us i such a delicate way. The ring which I first received came from the same person, for the hand-writing of the note which accom- panied that is the same as this. Keep and wear your ring, Maggie, and I will also wear my presents, in respect to the gallant kind- ness that saved us both from a terrible fate last night. For I shudder to think what might have become of us, had the villains page: 68-69[View Page 68-69] who tried to carry us off succeeded in their wicked attempt." "The persons who saved us must be pres- ent to-night," said Maggie. ", It is not likely they would trust the delivery of a bouquet, containing such valuables, to other hands than their own. I wish we could see and know them." "So do I. I will wear my ring and brace- let when I go on for my next song, and look closely at the audience, to see if I can recog- nize by sign or look any person who might be the giver." "Do, dear Lorraine, and I will try to get a peep, too, from behind the scenes, while you X are singing." - CHAPTER XLIV. PLANS TO FURTHER MYSTIFY OUR FAIR SINGER. Anson Demarest was seated in his private box, with his agent McDaniels, when Louise came upon the stage to sing her second song for the evening. "Look!" said he to McDaniels, "look I! she has got the bracelet on! How it glitters on her beautiful arm I And -my ring is on her finger. The unknown giver has begun to tri- umph. See how her eyes are wandering from face to face of the audience. She is looking for the face which is concealed so well by this crimson curtain." "There is another anxious gazer at the au- dience, back there," said McDaniels. "Look at the pretty face back of the wing, on the left there. You can just see the face-the form is hiddenby the scenery." "Yes, I see it. Is it not the Sherman girl?" asked Demarest. "Yes, Sir, it is she. And look at the little white band which grasps the side of the scene- frame for support; do you not see your ring upon it?" Demarest raised his powerful opera-glass, and looked at the hand carefully. "Yes," said he; " the forget-me-not is there. I wonder if her eyes would sparkle as brightly if she knew who was the giver of the ring she wears?" "Brighter, perhaps, but with a different feeling. How splendidly Miss Lorraine sings! Her fright last night has not impaired her voice!" "No, she sings and looks superbly. It al- most maddens me to think how gloriously she would have shown in society, had she ac- cepted me when I was a worshiper. But she chose to cast me aside, and bitterly shall she rue the hour when she did so I I loved her with all the ardor of my nature; and now I hate her; she shall' know full soon enough how I hate her!" "She is looking at this box. Can she have caught a glimpse of our faces through the narrow opening of the curtain?" - "Hardly; the light is too dim in here for us to be seen from the outside But I wonder that she has not noticed before now that this box, though occupied, has never had its cur- tains -drawn back when she sings. I hope her curiosity is excited as to who occupies the box. Here comes Mr. McCaw to join me in a bottle of wine, as he promised. I will put him in the way of exciting her curiosity still more, if she questions him." The manager came into the box just as the curtain went down before Louise,. while the building fairly shook with the applause whicU she received. "Good evening, Mr. McCaw," said Dema, rest, blandly; "I am delighted to see you. Your sweet. debutante improves every night She is in magnificent voice to-night." "Indeed she is I indeed she is No star could excel her. If Illman or Max Narrow- neck heagd her, they would go mad with' envy, and try their best to get. her for the opera." "I, have no doubt of it. Try a glass of wine, Sir. 'I noticed just now that she eyed this close-curtained box very closely. She may, in her curiosity, ask you who occupies it; if she does, tell her that it is taken by a most ardent admirer of music, who is in rap- tures with her talent. Remember, you must not say a word about her beauty, or you may make her suspicious, and spoil all." "Yes, I see, and will be careful," said Mr. McCaw, as he replaced his empty wine-glass on the little table in the rear. "If she presses her inquiries," continued Demarest, as he refilled the manager's glass, "tell her that I am a very eccentric young man, of vast wealth, but so modest and diffi- dent by nature, that I cannot bear the gaze, of a crowd, and that my bashfulness causes me to avoid all society, female society most es- pecially I That will make her desire an in- troduction; for when any woman finds a man utterly indifferent to her charms, she is generally half. crazy to make a conquest of him 1" "That is so I If the lady should make any inquiries, I will follow out your instruc. tions!" . "Do so; but upon no account let her get a glimpse of my face or a knowledge of my real name!" "Certainly npt, Sir!" And having drained another glass of wine the manager left the box. CHAPTER XLV. MORE ABOUT THAT PRIVATE BOX, AND A DISSERTATION UPON SIGHS. "Did you see any one whom you imagined was our unknown friend?" asked Maggie, as soon as Louise and herself entered the dressing-room. "No, -I did not," said Louise. "I saw the same sensual anddisgusting-looking old men in front, the same dissipated-looking young men further back. 1 did not look upone noble face or form in the whole audience, or one which seemed noble to me. What did you see, for I noticed you looking behind the scenes?" "My view was fully as unsatisfactory as your own!" said Maggie. "All that I could see looked like old fops and young clerks, whose ideas could not soar above the price of thread and needles!" "Did your eyes-or, rather, were your eyes sharp enough to penetrate the close-drawn curtains of the private box on the right?" "No," replied Maggie. "I saw the cur- tains move, and knew that some one was in the box, but I could not distinguish a face there!" "Nor could I!" said Louise. "I wish I could, for I believe that the curtains of that box conceal our mysterious friends from us. The curtains of that box have been closed ever since I commenced singing, while those of the box on the opposite side are always open, showing those who occupy the box. I feel sure that our unknown friends are hidden there!" . ' "I should not be surprised if your con- jecture was right!" said. Maggie. "There is Mr. McCaw. Why not ask him who is in the box?" "I will!" said Louise, and she beckoned to the manager to come to her. "I have, a question to ask you, Mr. McCaw 1" said she. "Maggie and I have got our 0Cfriosity excited upon a point, and you can probably relieve us."' ' What is the question, my, dear young lady?" said the manager, with a very obse- quious bow. "We are anxious to know' if the private box on the right, with closed curtains, is oc- cupied!" said Louise. "It is, and most profitably too, I assure you-most profitably for me!" said Mr. Mc- Caw, with a mysterious air. 1"May we ask who occupies it, and why the curtains are so closely drawn as to exclude all eyes from gazing upon the occupants?" continued Louise. "You can ask, but I fear that I can only partially satisfy you in my reply!" said Mr. McCaw. "The box is hired by a young gentleman who is, I understand, very wealthy-and I know he is very eccentric. He pays my highest price to keep the box ex- clusively for himself every night, whether he is present or not. He generally, however, occupies it, as he does to-night, with another gentleman-friend. He seems to be passion- ately fond of music, and to be a good judge of it, from the rapturous praise which he be- stows upon your singing!" "Isn't he very handsome?" asked Maggie, naively. "quite good looking--fine form, intellec- tual head, distinguished air, and all that! But he is the most diffident fellow for one bof his advantages that I ever knew. Cannot bear to have. a crowd looking at him.; and so keeps the curtains of his box drawn, so that he can hear, without being seen. Is too bashful. to mingle with. company, I am told, and especially. avoids all female society. When he takes a glass of wine or a cigar, he orders me to send them by one of my boys, and not by a pretty waiter girl, as other young men wish to be attended. He is a perfect mystery!" "He is really!" said Louise. "And now, my good Mr. McCaw, would it be asking you too much, if I beg you to inform me it this was not the gentleman who asked you here- after to provide me with an escort when I went home from here at night?" "It would not be asking me more than I would sincerely wish to gratify you in, my dear young lady!" said the manager. "But the gentleman who urged upon me the duty of providing you with an escort, insisted upon his name and kindness being kept from you. And if I were to say that the gentleman who occupies private box No. 1 was the person, why, you might hereafter find out his name, and he would blame me for betraying his confidence. So I. must leave you. to unravel the mystery, my dear young ladies, without any aid' from me!" And the manager, having adroitly fulfilled his instructions as received from Demarest, retired to attend to other business. "Young, handsome, rich, eccentric, and a man, and yet bashful! Why, it beats a novel, doesn't it, Miss Louise!" cried Maggie, when they were left alone. "I wish I could see him!" said Louise, with a sigh, her eyes resting thoughtfully upon the ring and bracelet which she at present wore. "And if his friend is handsome, too, I wish that I could see him t" .said Maggie, with a smile. "If you fall in love with the one, I must, as in duty bound, fall in love with the other!" "Who is talking of love, you foolish little thing " said Louise, blushing. "Why, you sighed," said Maggie, archly, "and a sigh, I have always understood, is the favorite language of love. I remember a verse which will prove my position, if I quote it rightly. The poet says: page: 70-71[View Page 70-71] ' What Is love? An odd compound of sirples most sweet, CuU'd in Life's spring by Fancy, poor mortals to cheat; A passion no eloquence yet could improve,, 'So a sigh best expresses the passion of love P There, my dear Louise, have I not sustained my ground? You sighed, and so you ex- pressed love in the most poetic way 1! Louise smiled, quietly, but made no reply. "You do not believe me then?" said Mag- gie. ," I'll quote more poetic proofs that I am right. That wicked Lord Byron, whose works we ought never to read, but for all that we will, and do, says': '0 Love! What is there in this world of ours, Which makes it tatal to be loved? Ah, why With cypress-branches hast thou wreathed' th bowers, And made thy best interpreter a stgh!" Now, do you give up? There, you 'sigh again. I am Sure you are in love!" "Not with a shadoW, my dear Maggie; sc don't feel anxious for the safety of my heart it is almost time for me to go on again, and then we will be ready for home, thank Heaven!" * "Well, go on; but don't turn your eyes toward that private box, dear Louise, and if you do, do not sigh, for the same poet says: ' Glances beget ogles; ogles, sighs; Sighs wishes; wishes, words; and words, a letter; And then Heaven knows what mischief may arise When love links two young people in one fetter.' , "Nonsense, Maggie, are you taking leave of'your sober senses?" "No, dear, kind, good touise, but you looked so serious that I could not help joking a little. If you should fall in love with this stranger, I should grieve very much iP "Why, Maggie?" . . "I should' think that you had forgotten what you told me in a whisper when 1 was weeping about my poor brother. You said that if he died, the only being you had ever loved would be lost to you. I have never forgotten it, my more than sister!" "Neither have I forgotten him!" said Louise; and then as the tinkle 'of the stage- bell reached her ear, she took up her music, and hurried out to sing her last song for the evening. CHAPTER XLVI. THHE BAIT TAKES-CURIOSITY AWAKE. Though Louise tried, when she went to sing again, to keep her eyes from glancing toward that close-curtained box, she could not; and she noticed a small and aristocratic- looking hand, with a heavy seal-ring upon one of its fingers, lying upon the ftront of the box, until her song was finished, when it was I quickly drawn back to join its master in the applause which always followed her efforts. t She thought that she had caught the gleam of a pair of dark and expressive eyes, looking from between the folds of the curtain; and she certainly tried to sing her very best, feel- ing sure that one person at least in the audience appreciated the music which she gave,and understood her as she wished to be understood. And if gratitude could be conveyed in a look, as well as in words, then she surely spoke her gratitude in glances; for she felt grateful not only for the great service done in her rescue, but for the appreciation of her efforts to win an honorable living by the use of talents once cultivated as a luxury rather than a necessity. But we must look in the box to know whether she was understood or not. "McCaw has done his part up to the handle 1" said McDaniels, the moment that Louise came upon the stage to sing her last song for the evening. "See, she cannot keep her eye from looking this way. If these curtains were not as thick as a soldier's blanket well coated with 'the sacred soil', those flashing eyes of hers would look right through them. Yes, Sir, our mystery has fastened her curiosity, and she'll go through fire and water to find it out and unvail it!" "Yes; she is caught. McCaw understood his cue, and has raised her curiosity to the highest pitch. I can see that in her counte- nance!" said Demarest. "I wish .e would come into the box, for I would like to know, what he told her!" . "Your wish is realized, for here he comes 1" said McDaniels. "Ah-glad to see you again I Did you set the lady's curiosity afloat?" said Demarest. "I rather think I did!" said McCaw, with a low laugh. "I had hard work to keep her from forcing your name out of me! I ex- , pected she would insist at least upon my pro- curing your cart de visite for her!" "Good! I wish you had promised it to her, for I could readily have procured one of- some fine-looking fellow, and you could have given it to her for mine. Do it to-morrow- night, and I will get the picture!" "Certainly, Sir, if you desire it. Do you not think she surpassed her usual excellence in her last song?" "Yes, I am sure that she did. She was singing for somebody 1" "And that somebody was the gallant friend who got her out of trouble last night, and whose jewelry she is now willing to wear!" said McDaniels, with a sarcastic smile. ," You must look out, Mr. McCaw, or some of the operatic managers will hear of your treasure, and try to get'. her away from you 1" " They may try, but they will try in vain. I have got her bound to me in writing sc atrongly, that, until her time is up with me,. nothing but sickness of a serious nature can make her lose a single night I I am too old a hand in this business to lose so drawing a card as she is 1" "Well, I am glad for your sake that it is so. Have another glass of wine, and then I must go; for as my angel has sung her last song, all attraction for me has ceased here until to-morrow-night," said Demarest. "When, of course, you will be on hand as usual!" "Yes, and with a good-looking photograph fbr you to carry to her, and say that you got hold of it by accident, and saved it purposely for her!" "Ah, Sir, you are keen on a scent, very keen I It is a pity there were not more like you. Your health, Sir, and I must To, for I have to be out among my guests, as it grows late, for some of them begin to get noisy 1" And Mr. Mc(aw drank off his wine and hurried out. CHAPTER XILVIL T= HSTORY OF YOUNGL SHERMAN'S GENER- OUS HOST. It will be only three or four days before my future course is determined," said the kind host of Edward Sherman to that young officer, one evening, in the fourth week of his stay at the plantation. "The Federal caval- ry who scout in advance of General Sher- man's main columns were heard. from not thirty miles from here, this morning, and by this time must be near, if they should hap- pen to pass on the road nearest to me, though when heard from' they were following the Augusta road, which is north of me." The eyes of the now almost recovered offi- cer brightened as he heard the glad news, and he replied: "It gives me joy to hear it, Sir. Your kind attentions have so' nearly restored me to health that I shall be able at least to sit m the saddle when they come along. Though I belong to infantry, I can act as a horse- marine until I can get back to my regi- ment." "You are not strong enough for active service as yet," said his host. "You ought to permit me, who have acted as your sur- geon so long, to, be a judge of that. Your wound,'not yet entirely healed, would break out afresh under too violent exercise; and though you feel strong here in the house, walking over a carpeted floor, you would discover,. on rougher trial, that your former strength had not yet come back to you." "I presume you are right, Sir; but a strong will sustains bodily infirmity very much," said young Sherman. "That is true. But you will be better able to do your duty, if you first properly and substantially recruit your health. If you will -taka my advice, you will obtain permission to go North as soon as the Army reaches the sea-coast, and spend a few weeks with the mother and sister of whom you speak so often, before you return to regimental duty. You will recover more rapidly by doing so, and be a whole man when you are again in the field." ' Perhaps it would be better for my health, but my soul is eager for service," replied Sherman. "Perhaps I am a little selfish in this," said the planter. "I acknowledge a desire to have your company when I go North. And you may discover reasons for it when I tell you of my history, and what I hope to find there, if relentless fate has only been merci- ful and spared one whom I once idolized, and too long have neglected. I will have a bottle of wine up; and while we moisten our lips with it, Iwill briefly relate to you more about myself than I have ever before poured into a human ear." p He sent Moses for the wine; and when' their glasses were filled, he proceeded with his story: "The name which I am known by here," he said, " is a name of convenience, adopted by me after I left home for the purpose of making a fortune in foreign lands. I took It from the time I left New York City, and in speculations in China, in the East Indies, and in California, I have been known as'I am known here, only as Robert Gilmartin. "My reasons for leaving a home which an ample fortune enabled me to make luxurious, was the heart-sickening disgust 1 had learned to feel toward the woman to whom I was bound by the chains of matrimony. She was extravagant, foolishy so; but I did not care for that-my means were sufficiently abun- dant to indulge her in extravagance. She was vain, with nothing to be vain of. Even that I did not care for. But she was utterly selfish. She neglected our only child-a tdaughter, who had not a look, a thought, or a feeling in common with her heartless mother. "My wife would bestow more fond care on a dog or a cat than she would on her child; exhibit more fondness for a puppy than she would for me, whom she had sworn L to love and honor. I had raised her from poverty and obscurity, by marrying her, thinking, on a brief acquaintance, that she had mind- as well as beauty. I too soon learned my fatal error, and after years of misery, in which I never could count one whole happy day, I determined to leave her and my child in the possession of an ample fortune, and, taking enough with me to make page: 72-73[View Page 72-73] more with, to become a wanderer through the world. I did so. "I told her before I went, that I should be absent for, years; but as I left her ample means to live, with every, luxury at her com- mand, I did not think she would miss me. She coincided with me on that point, and there was no weeping between us when we parted. I did not dare to tell my dear little daughter that I was going away for a long time, perhaps never to see her more; for the dear child loved me, and Heaven knows only how my heart was bound up in her I But I had borne with her mother until dis- gust had turned into loathing, and life was sikening to me, while endured in her. com- pany. So, leaving her amply supplied with timds, I started, in my own chartered ship for lbreign shores. "I have heard from her and my child but a few times since I left, never from them di- rectly. But as often as I heard from my wife, I learned that she was the same proud, selfish, vulgar creature, and I have never felt a desire to see her again. But the image of my dear daughter is ever in, my mind, and I begin to yearn to clasp her once more to my breast. I am getting advanced in years; and if she only is what in youth she promised to be, in spite of her maternity, pure and noble, the fortune I have amassed since I saw her last will be hers when my life-journey is at an end. "If she is changed, if she 'too has become selfish, if her mother's vulgarity has grown upon her, then I shaU regret the hour when I returned to seek her once more. You wonder, perhaps, why I came here after wandering through foreign lands so long, and settled down to a planter's life, so near 'to them, without going to see how they were getting along. "This plantation was willed to me by a rich and eccentric friend, who traveled with me for many years, and at last died abroad, from a disease which had long afflicted him. I had opportunities to serve him often while he lived, and to soothe and comfort him i4, his last hours. He 'was grateful, and left me all that he had in the world-money, land, and slaves. They have not deteriorated in my hands, and though I do not say it boast- ingly, I am a very wealthy man, possessing i more than I know What to do with. " If I should find my daughter pure, and M intelligent, and heart-free, there will be yet one dear object to me in life-to see her happily settled, with a husband such as I I could choose for her, and then I could meet ( death as one of America's greatest poets has X drawn the picture: ' 'Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.'" , The old planter took another glass of wine, as he concluded his story, and then he- said: "You know now, my young friend, my reasons for going North, and you can imagine how pleasant it will be to have- you in my company as I travel. I wish to see you re. stored to the arms of those whom you love, whom you speak 'of so often with deep affec- tion, and I wish you to see the child of my heart-if she is what I dream and hope she is. When I reach New York, I shall resume my former name, for never in my business- life thereldid I allow a stain to come upon it. When I left, the check of Harman Lorraine was good for a quarter of a million ; now, if I can securely get away the money alone that I have here, my check will go for ten times the amount, and leave a heavy balance un- called for." "Lorraine? Was that the name which ou changed for Gilmartin?" asked young Sherman, nith a look as well as a tone of surprise. . "Yeseit is my right name, the one which I shall hereafter be known by!. You look surprised!" "Yes, Sir, because I knew a lady-or rather two ladies, by that name in New York, before I entered the service. My acquaintance with them was very slight *; but my young sister thought a great deal of the daughter of the lady who bore the 'name I The last letters that I received from my mother and sister were filled with the praises of the young lady, who, through the rascality of a lawyer, it appeared, hat' been reduced from wealth to poverty, and was then living in a humble manner with them in the same house!" "What was this young lady's first name,. Mr. Sherman? It would be wonderful indeed if my daughter should be the lady you allude to "T The name of the young lady was Louise, Sir! Their residence, when I knew the family, was in the Fifth avenue!" "Good Heavens, hWw singular! The name of my daughter was Louise, and I left them in possession of one of the finest houses in' that avenue! Reduced to poverty, you say It is indeed time that I was looking the poor girl up. If she has borne herself nobly tiough the rough trials of adversity, then 1 shall be more than proud of her, more than happy that I have the power to lift her at once into affluence. I shall be a restless man until I can see my child again. Rlevers- es may even have made her mother more of a woman. I hope so, for her own sake! You have seen my daughter-for I will and must think that the lady you allude to is my daughter-how did she look?" "She was very beautiful, Sir-my memory serves me well on that point, and as good as she was lovely, My young sister worked for her, and was very much attached to her!" "I am glad to hear it. I hope that she will be with your mother when' we reach New York, for the mother of such a son as you are must be an excellent companion for her. You need not blush, Sir-I am an old man, and plain spoken, above empty compliments, and mean what I say. I shall count the hours now until we can place ourselves under the protection of the Federal troops; for I long to see my child again-to be where I can help her out of trouble, if she is in it! But it is late-let us finish this bottle, and I will leave you to your rest, and go myself to dream of my child CHAPTER XLVIII. WORKING UP THE GAME--A NEW LINE OF BATTLE FORMED. Anson Demarest and his villainous agent, McDaniels, were in close consultation in the room of the former. We can only know the subject of their consultation by listening to their conversation. "Yes, you are right," said Demarest, reply- ing to a remark made by McDaniels, "I have spent a great deal of money in trying to get Louise Lorraine to love a mysterious stranger, whom she thinks that she has--never seen, and so far without any apparent effect. She. is grateful for the protection she once received, wears the jewels I have given her in my mysterious way, and sings, out of gratitude, the music which I mark and send- to her. But how quickly would she dash the jewels at my feet if she knew they came from the hand which she once refused, and which, with the head and heart attached to it, has since wrought for her all the trouble she has known! Iow she would detest the rescuers whom she now is so grateful to, if she knew that her abduction Was planned, and encour- aged only that she might be rescued If I could only have got her 'to love her myste- rious friend and admirer, then my hate would have had a triumph, a glorious triumph, when, Mokanna-like, I unvailed myself and showed her what a fiend she had come to worship. But she shows nb signs of love- scarcely curiosity to know who her myste- rious friend is 1"X "She cannot love a mystery, when her reality lies under a soldier's coat away down in Dixie!" said McDaniels, with a sarcastic smile. "You mean that she loves that fellow Sherman?" "Yes, Sir. Else whywould she so cling to the company of his mother and sister?" "Well, there is one comfort in that. He is most probably a skeleton under' the sacred soil' before this time. When last heard from, he was reported as wounded and missing, after a tough fight, and it is not likely that he will turn up again '" "You will never make her believe he is dead until her eyes have seen his grave. Love feeds hope when it would starve without it," said McDaniels. "Then, curse her I I will begin to alter my game, and let her see what trouble is once more. She is living all too easily now. We must make her feel the iron again. How can we best do it?"' "Why, Sir, old Bodine is sufficiently rq- covered to begin to-plot mischief again. Sup- pose He let the abduction come off this time without a re wue?" "What I Let him capture and ruin a prize which must belong alone to me? No, Sir- never I That girl must and shall be ruined, but she shall owe her ruin to no one but my. self. I hoped to get her to loving me in my disguise, but I have failed there, and must take by force what love might yield without it. But I want her to, suffer, and to know more temptation. She must lose her ,situa- tion at the concert-saloon, be ordered from her present lodgings, humble as they are, and have no chance left but infamy whereby to live! And then, H, the despised and di&- carded Anson Demarest, will buy her I Yes, yes, and who shall know what a hell there is in a love which is turned; into hate!" And what shall I say to old Bodine? He sent for me to-day, 'and I know that he again wishes my help to get her into his power 1" "Tell the poor fool to go to pot!" "He is on the road there now, and needs no telling to urge him on. .The devil has had a mortgage on his soul for the last fifty years. But we might have some more fun out of him, and trouble her at the same time." "Well, do as you like with him, only re- member that in no case must he come into possession of her-at least not until I have ruined her in soul and body. Then, then I will not care what becomes of her. When I can hold up to her a mirror and show her the face of a lost and ruined wanton-when I can say, there, there is the proud girl who once played the coquette with Anson Demarest, there is the lady who once thought herself too good to be his mate-then my triumph will be complete, and I will dash her from me though she clings, in her despair, to me as her only hope in her misery I McDaniels, you know not what hate is!" "I can see its power, Sir," said the agent; and even he shuddered, as he looked at the dark and lowering face of his em- ployer. "I shall let the lady know to-morrow-night page: 74-75[View Page 74-75] who her mysterious friend Is," said Demarest, after a pause. "And when she knows that through my influence she was employed at that saloon, I do not doubt that she will at once throw up her engagement there. If she does, she must not get employment elsewhere. You may let old Bodine tempt her-but temptation from that quarter, remember, must be without avail." "Do you think she will return the jewels you have given her?" "Certainly: for i will write her a note,.tell- ing her how beautiful I think she looks in , them, and sign my own name to -it. And when she is singing, before she receives 'the note, I will have the curtains of our box drawn aside, and she shall see both you and me, where she has looked so often to get a glance at her modest and bashful mysterious friend. She may lose a note or two in her music when she recognizes us 1" "I should not wonder if she did, or rather I should wonder if she did not. It will be a shock to try her nerves!" "Yes, and more than she can bear without' unstringing them, I thiak. I want you to see the landlord of the house where she lives now, and hire the rooms they occupy at double the rent they pay now, on condition that he finds an excuse to turn them out of doors!" "That can be easily done. , All he cares for is money; I have found out his nature, and can do what I like with him!" "Well, see him, and arrange their turning out to come off as soon as she sends back that jewelry, and loses her situation with Mr. Mc- Caw. We will have to pay him pretty well for giving her up, but that matters not. No great battle was ever won without'great losses, and I can afford to lose while I triumph Work up the game lively, my good fellow, for it is drawing to a close. I have, dallied with my victim long enough; and, like the cat sick of playing with the captured mouse, I begin to feel like ending it." "Well, Sir, rest assured that, like a staunch hunter, I shall be in at the death." CHAPTER XLIX. A DISCOVERY AND A FLARE-UP. "Maggie, I have another new song to sing to-night, furnished by our mysterious friend," said Louise Lorraine to her ever-constant companion, as she glanced at the music'which she found as usual upon the table in her dres- sing-room, when she 'arrived at the concert- saloon on the evening which succeeded that made. eventful by the consultation held in our last chapter-or rather, described in it. . "Is it as pretty as he usually chooses?" asked Maggie. ."1 hope it is not quite so sad * , as the one he last sent to you; that made me cry, you remember." "This is not sad, but it is singular," said Louise, as she hummed over the music. "It must be original, for the music is in manu- script, and I cannot recollect ever having seen r it in the lists of published music. It is head- ed the "Song of the Discarded". The words , speak of disappointed love and subsequent hate. It is a singular song, and I would not sing it it did not come from one who has proved himself so kind a friend. I do not like the words, but the music is easy and good." "Then, of course, you will sing it?" "Certainly; I have never refused to sing the music which he has sent. It has been choice and well selected; and anything which I do to please this mysterious patron of my employer's pleases Mr. McCaw." Aud Louise hummed the song over and over again, to get the new Words and music familiar to her voice. Therefore, when her turn came to go on, the music was well rehearsed, and she was ready to do it justice. She knew that the or- chestra, which was to accompany her, had copies of it, for they were always supplied; and she went on cheerfully and fearlessly as usual, for she had long since got over all bashfulness before that audience. One glance at, the mass of faces upturned toward her as the orchestra commenced, and then her magnificent voice rang through the vast hall, in the opening stanza. Suddenly, the curtains of the private box, which had always before been closely drawn, were thrown aside. No wonder, then, that her voice trembled; for looking, as she could not help doing, to see who sat there in a blaze of light, to hear her sing a song of his own choosing, she saw and recognized, all too plainly, the detested face of the man whom she knew to be her bitterest, her deadliest foe. She saw his look of malignant triumph, and, brave girl that she was, took courage where almost any woman on earth would have fal- tered. She drove back the coward fear which for a moment made her heart and her voice tremble, and, without another error, sung ev- ery word and every note of her music. But she did not look again at him; she knew and felt that his cold and glittering eye of serpent-like hate Was upon her, and she would not yield to its power. As usual, she was applauded and encored. She came on again, but she did not repeat that song; she sang another, which she knew was popular with the audience, and won even more than usual applause. Once, and once only, while on this time, did she look at the persons in the private box. . . . And she. saw, side by side with Demarest, Mo- Daniels, the agent whom she knew that her prosecutor had employed in prosecuting her and her friends. Each of them held ih their hands a bouquet of white flowers, and as she closed her song, the bouquets were thrown at her feet, as such had often been cast before. Did she stoop now to pick them up? No I While her' eyes flashed, her indig- nant pride and her splendid form was drawn to its fullest height, she trod the flowers be- neath her feet as she turned and left the stage, determined to show her persecutors that she recognized them now, and despised them and their gifts alike. Proudly, defiantly, she walked from the stage to her dressing-room, but, once. m it, she sank, pale and trembling, into a chair, and tears gushed from her eyes. "Dear-dear Louise! what is the matter?" cried Maggie, alarmed at the unusual agita- tion of her friend. "Has any -one insulted you?" ' "No-no--ask me no questions now," sobbed Louise. "I will be better directly." "Here is a note which is marked 'imn- portant', to b;read immediately," continued Maggie. "A boy brought it in while you were singing." "'Open and read it-my eyes are blinded, with these foolish tears said Louise. Maggie opened the note, and read aloud: "Miss Loriaine looks very beautiful adorned in jewels presented by the hand which she once scorned, 'and her gratitude for services' rendered in an adven- venture, planned by himself, is very acceptable to the discarded ANSON DEMARBST." "Why, what does it mean?" asked Maggie, in astonishment. "1 It means that I have been duped-miser- ably duped! exclaimed Louise, as she rose, dashed: the tears from her cheeks, and took off the ring and bracelet which she had been wearing. "We have both been duped, Maggie I! Take that circlet of jewels from your finger, too, and send it back, as I shall send these, to the black-hearted wretch whose name is signed to that note 1" "Were these jewels the gifts of that wretch-your enemy and mine?" "Yes, Maggie, yes He has been the oc- cupant of the private box all the time. He has been the pretended friend who hid his name and his person in mystery, merely to 'blind us to some object which means our ruin. Go and ask the call-boy to send Mr. McCaw here. I must know if he has been a party to this deception. If he has, I would starve before I would sing another song upon his stage. As it is, I will not sing again while that villain is allowed a seat in the building. Go, dear Maggie, and'send for Mr. McCaw at once." Maggie hastened to do the bidding of her distressed friend, and, in a very few moments,' Mr. McCaw made his appearance. Louise was still trembing with agitation; but she calmed herself as much as she could, and asked Mr. McCaw if he knew the per- sons who were in the left-hand private box that evening.. "Certainty, my dear young lady, certainly I do," said the manager. "And I was glad to see them come out and show themselves to-night. They are your best friends, my dear young lady. Had it not been for them, I never should have had the honor of bring- ing your wonderful talents into public notice. Through them I heard of you, sought you out, and engaged you. They have been the most liberal of your friends." "They were the cause of fy getting this engagement?" cried Louise. "Do I under- stand you to say that, Mr. McCaw?" "Yes, most assuredly, you' do, my dear young lady!" said the manager, coolly. "Then Sir, my engagement ceases from -this hour!" said Louise, firmly. "And I wish you to take these jewels to Anson Dem- arest, in that box, and to tell him that would despise myself for even having Worn them, if I had known that they had been contaminat- ed by his touch!" V" hy, Miss Lorraine? This is unaccounta- ble? Give up your engagement with me? Impossible! Impossible! I have you down on paper, and no manager in America dare employ you while your engagement with me remains unfulfilled!" "I care not Sir-I will starve before I will owe a favor to Anson Demarest or his agent. Go and tell them so! You need not waste words with me, Sir; I am as firm as a rock where I know I am right!" "But you are wrong, Miss, most infernally wrong " "Right or wrong, Sir, my mind, is made up, and no words can change me. Be so good as to take these two rings and this bracelet to the wretch who sent them to us, well know- ing that we would spurn them if we had, known from whose hand they came. And, then Sir; you can return, if you please, and pay me the salary now due me, and I will re- turn home!" "Salary due I Do youknow, Miss Lorraine, that if you break your engagement with me, you cannot collect one cent of salary; and moreover, if you are worth anything seizable, that I can hold you in heavy damages for not fulfilling your contract!" cried Xr. McCaw. I am sorry to say that you will find little property of mine to seize in the way of dai- ages. Pray do my errand, and if you do not wish to pay me, I will 'go without the money!" replied Louise. page: 76-77[View Page 76-77] I will do your errand 1" said McCaw, tak- ing the jewels from the table. But mark me, Miss, if you try to sing anywhere else, I will put an injunction on at once. You shall sing here or nowhere 1" And the indignant manager went off in a flurry, with the jewelr.. CHAPTER L MA. MCCAW AID HS TROUBLES-A SALVE FOR THEM. "A pretty mess I'm in, gents-a pretty mess, with the Incognita!" cried Mr. McCaw, as he entered the box where Anson Dema- rest and his agent were taking wine over their recent triumph, for they had seen how fearfully agitated poor Louise really was, in spite of her endeavor to appear composed. "Here is a bracelet and a couple of rings which she and the little Sherman send back to you, with al sorts of an indignant message, which I was too mad to listen to, and, of course, cannot remember P" "t So your star begins to be erratic already 1" said Demarest, with a laugh. "Yes, Sir-and it seems that you are the cause of it. She is in a tremendous passion about something, and when she learned, by questioning, that you had been the cause of her getting employed here, she swore she would never sing for me again' " "Swore, Mr, McCaw? Has she got to swearing already?" "Wel, I can't say that she swore, but she said she would never sing here again. And. I swore that she should sing nowhere else; and, by the great Jumping Moses, she shall not! I have her bound to me in as fair writings as were ever drawn up, and she shall sing for me or not at all 1" "Good-stick to that, Mr. McCaw. And at any rate you shall be no loser by her fail- ure to keep her engagement. To show my good-will on that point, I make you a present of the diamond-ring which she returns, be- cause she found out it came from me. It cost me a cool five-hundred-dollar bill, and will look well on your finger, and make the rosy mouths of your pretty waiter-girls water every time they look at it " "You are very kind and very generous 1" said Mr. McCaw, completely mollified by the splendid gift. "I hope you will not give up your box if the Incognita, persists in leaving me" ' "Of course not. You have many, attrac- tions here beside her. If you can manage to get the Sherman girl in your ballet-corps, I will give you this other ring, which I know she only sent back because the proud Louise urged her to do it " - / "Good I I will try it. Iwill make her a tempting offer!" "Do-but not to-night, while they're In a pout. You know where they live. About day after to-morrow; they will be in more trouble, for their landlord always demands his rent in advance, and I doubt if they will have the cash to pay him I Make your offer then, and you may get her " "I wilL You seem well posted in their affairs!" "Better than they dream of. If they were a little more wise and a little less particular about the bubble which they call virtue, they might live like queens!" "Ah, Sir, you are a sad dog-a sad dog, I fear I But if they are unkind, there are plenty who will be just the other way with a tenth of the temptation. A ring like this would buy any other girl in my. employ. ment!" "Yes, but they have not had the disad- vantage of having seen better days. These 'better-days' men and women always have a. great deal of false and useless pride. Take a glass of wine, Mr. McCaw!" "Thank you, I will, and then I will go and see if the Incognita has not softened down in her determination! She has been a drawing card, and I hate to lose her; though my other singers will not cry about it, for she took the wind 'out of their canvas alto- gether i" And the manager. tossed down a glass of wine, and then went back to see Louise, putting his' new gift in his pocket-book, for he did not care about her seeing it just then. But when he went to her dressing-room, he found that she had already gone, leaving word with the stage-manager that she should not return, and if he concluded to pay. her the salary due, he could send it to her resi- dence. . "Not a cent will she get until she sings 'again " he muttered, when he heard her message. CHAPTER LL MR. O'BALYIUYAOK AND HIS PIPE. The landlord of the house in which Louise and her mother and the Sherman mother and daughter rented three small rooms was a true type of a class of men who are all too plenty m New York for the good of the suf- fering poor who have to endure, life under their avaricious and grasping tyranny. He did not own the building himself, but had leased it from the real owner for a term of years, to profit by sub-letting its rooms at an enormous advance. His rule was invariably to collect his rent in advance, and never to keep a tenant for an hour without he had their money in his pocket, or such security as would doubly repay him his demands, if they did not pay at the promised moment. * W It was not difficult for McDaniels to manage such a man as this landlord was. When he told him that his tenants 'were likely to be short of funds to pay their next quarter's rent -in advance, and that if he would be severe and exacting, and order them out if they asked for any delay in the payment, he should have double the price for his rooms to let them remain empty; he at once signified his intention of " starting" the poor women st once, without they paid up. And to make it harder for them to do so, as advised by McDaniels, he determined to raise his rent, so as effectually to put it beyond their power to remain. And now we will take a glance at them on the first night which Louise spent at home. after throwing up her engagement at the Apollonica. She and Mrs. Sherman and Maggie sat together, huddled up close to the little stove in their common sitting-room, for fuel' was scarce, and their fire was almost as feeble as the hope in their bosoms. Mrs. Lorraine .was not with them. Even yet she had not unbent her vulgar pride enough to be companionable with the noble- hearted women who had been so kind to her daughter, and so patient under her insults; and she spent the most of her time in the scantily-furnished room which she called, as if in mocking remembrance of former days, her boudoir-a room which served her for chamber, sitting-room, dining-room, and par- lor; for she had no other. Gloom was upon the faces of all three of the poor women. Maggie and' her. mother had both been out in search of work, but they could get none without leaving a money- deposit as security for the return of the goods to be worked up-a Chathain-street Hebrewic idea, which enables the employer to cheat their workwomen as much as they please, by withholding pay on the pretence that the work is not done to suit them. And they had no money to leave as security, very little indeed to get' food with; for, depending upon the salary of Louise, they had not been as careful of 'their scanty means as they would have been If they had dreamed of her losing it. "What will we do if Mr, O'Ballyhack de- mands his rent in advance 'to-morrow, for our quarter ends to-night?" said Mrs. Sherman, with a shiver at the thought. '"He will demand it, I am sure," said Mag- gie. "He looked sour apples at me tonight, when he saw me come in with only one oaf of bread in my basket and no butter. He seems to know just how much money his ten- ants have, by the marketingthey buy. He is always peering into every basket that passes him." "I am afraid he will be severe upon us," said"Louise, "for our furniture is so scanty and poor, and he will think it poor security. Yet we have nothing else to offer. If Mr. McCaw would only act honorably and pay me up the salary due, I would have enough to pay the rent. I wish I had been more politic, and got my money before I. threw up my engagement. I would try to sing some- Where else; but I know he will use his pow- er to prevent me. And, alas! he has ,the power; for what can a poor girl like me do against an unprincipled man who has plenty of money at his command.. If we cannot get work, and I cannot get another engagement, I know not what we shall do. I would rather die than go back to sing at that sa- loon. If I do, I know that constant persecu- tion will await me. I was a fool to send back. the jewelry to that wretch. I should have kept and sold it, and we might have lived on the proceeds until a better day dawned for us. But I was so indignant at' the thought that he who had caused me so much suffering was mocking me with his gifts and affectedl charity, that I thought only of spurning him and his gifts." "Do not fret, my dear girl," said Mrs. Sherman, kindly. "I do not despair. I have seen much sorrow and a great deal of trouble; but when-the hand of affliction was laid the heaviest upon me, I appealed to the only Help of the widow and the orphan, and light came to me out of the darkness. God will not desert those who trust in Him." The door of the room was rudely opened at that moment; and, without the ceremony of knocking, the dreaded landlord entered. "Good evenin', ladies," said' the shock- headed brute, coming forward, and taking a seat in their only spare chair. He was a red-faced, pockmarked, gray- eyed, coarse-featured man, whose counte- nance told his rough and unfeeling nature at a glance. "It is devilish little fire you kape for a, night as cowld as this," he said, as he drew nearer to the stove. "Fuel is too expensive to be used waste- fully," said Mrs. Sherman, quietly. "Yes, poor folks must be savin' of it. Do you know that your quarter is out to- night, and a new one begins to-morrow-morn- in', Ma'am?" "Yes, Mr. O'Ballyhack, we were speaking of it just before you came in." "That's right; I like to see my tenants thinkin' of what's due. I have to do the thinkin' for a hape of 'em, or divil the cent would I get from 'em, poor craters that they be. Poor folks are nothin' but a nuisance any way. I just dropped in to-night to be afther ellin' you that I'm obliged to raise page: 78-79[View Page 78-79] our rent a quarter higher than it was. This divilish war Imcr'ases the taxation ; and rent, you see, must go up too, or divil the cent Will 1 have at thie year's end. Why, Sir, our rent is fearfully high al- rwadi," cried L .ouie, surpised at hie words f it I s - goher th you ean afford to pay, it is no higher than I can get frow others; so you know what you can do," said M. O'Ballyhack, taing out a shortpie, filling it, and lighting it at their o cadl You, canit whereyou e better suited r" " e are not prepared to change our. loci- zion just now, and must accede toyour terms hard as they are," said Mrs. Sherman, with a sigh. "Hard do you call 'em I The 're too, ai to be grumbled at, Ma'am I And ifyou dona like 'em, all you've got to do is, togo where you'll find asier ones if you can. But, mind you, the rent is a quarter more for the next three months, and it must be ready on the nail tomoow.-moringl " ' I am faid Sir, that you will have to wait upon us a day or two 1" said Louise, in a gen- tie tone. "I have not yet drawn my salary, and we'are short of funds 1!' "Wait? Wait did you say? Beabers, that's a rich iday When Phelim O'Ballyhack waits for his rent, it will be a long day from this, when tenants are to be. had widout the askin', who're ready to plank the cash when they come into the house. No, Ma'am--you pay your rent in advance to-morrow morn- in', or out you go I That's as fat as a turnip and twice as solid, be jabers! And the landlord then blew a jet of smoke from his dirty mouth toward the shrinking girl. "Our furniture will secure you Sir, until we can get the money " said rs. Sherman, in a submissive and humble tones e "Your furniture! The whole kit of it . isn't worth the tobacey that I smoke in a month's time. To the difil wid such securi- ty. You understand me.-the cash to-mor. row, morin', or out you go, and I'll charge ye storage for every hour your stuff in my m rooms t That's'ad now, and ye hear it!" and the brute rose and left the room, it even tang the trouble to shut the door be- oase. "i There is no heart in the brastof c that man t fhear in h b S "What have t eP'to find it with"' said p Maggie, hardly stifling a sob. "I spent our last penny for bread tounight "eWe cp a ot move without money I Oh, it is too hard-too thard 1" sItO Po is And the tears came from her eyes, in spitg It, of her efforts to restrain them. H'-EEelpmayr come I 'will not despair -I will not despair!" said Mrs. Sherman. "We I- will pray to Him who cares for the least of his believing servants, and lie down to sleep , ting yet In His goodness 1"t r. *. CHAPTER LIY. g TI COCLnUXSIO--LiGHT FOLLOWS DARI It was ten o'clock on the day following the evening described in our last chapter. The Bfour women-Louoe and her mother, and aMrs. Sherman-and her daughter, stood in the cold room, for the last of their fuel had been burned, pleading with Mr. O'Ballyhack for permission to remain one more day i even that single room, while they could endeav- or either to raise money or at least to find other rooms to take their scanty furniture into,r "You heard what tould you last night!" said the unfeeling landlord. And I'm not the man to make myself a liar to pl'ase any- body! Ee hear now. I'll charge ye storage for every hour you kape your things here I, "Oh, thank Heaven, we are saved from this trouble at least "'cried Louise, as a third person appeared at the door. "It was Mr. McCaw, the proprietor of the Apollonica. .. "This gentleman has come to pay me m salary, Sr!" she co tinued l and[d , ftinued, addressing the once"' '"'w payyou your rent at "You make a mistake, Miss Lorraine l,", said McCaw, coldly. . "You have thrown up your engagement with me, greatly to my dam- age, and in so doing have 'forfeited any money which might have been due to "Hear that now 1n" said Mfr. O'Ballyhack, with a repulsive sneer. "Oh, ir, f I must, I will go back and sing for you m Only payme now what is my due ", sa poor Louise, as tears gushed from her eys "I am sorry for your sake to say at hate engaged a singer in your place. I am not a man to be trifled with, and when you stayed away last night, you foreited all claim to avor friom me," said Mr. acCaw. ", X errand here was not with you. I ca".ne to see Miss herman. She is very beautiful, andIan offer her a placein my ballet- corps." I 'hat, S! you wiSh my daughter to ap pear halfnaked among our dancers, to be gazed at by ever 'liberdne who visits your place 1" cried Mrs. Shermn, i!digantly. "She will not, she shall not. We wil starve together before she shall descend to that 1" "Yes, dear mother; yes, a thousand times yes!" cried Maggie, as her face flushed with indignation at etheought. "And it's too proud you "are to make money when you have a chance," cried Mr. O'Ballyhack. "You're only losing time staying here. If you don't leave soon, I'll be afther putting you out." "Oh, lir, have some mercy 1" cried Mrs. Sherman to the landlord. "It isn't a payin' article, Ma'am, and I don't dale in it," said he, with a cold laugh. And hearing a heavy step approaching the door, he turned to see who was there. The face of Louise Lorraine brightened as she saw the person who was just entering. It was Mr. Gerham, the lawyer whom she had formerly consulted in regard to theas- cality of Mr. Crib, and upon his face was a kind and assuring smile. "Thank Heaven, I have found you at last, my dear young lady!" said he, as he came forward and extended his hand to Louise. "I have had a good deal of difficulty in trac- ing you out. I have good news for you, 'and you look as if it would be welcome." "It will be indeed welcome, Sir, if it can save us from being turned out of doors for the' non-payment of advance-rent, for that is' the fate we were pleading against in vain," said Louise. "Turned out of this miserable hole, in- deed!" said the lawyer, as he eyed the land- lord scornfully. "I come to tell you that you have your own house to return to. I told you that I would set a detective at work when you were at-my office. I did so, and he has ferreted out the fraud which reduced you to poverty. Mr. Crib, and 'his friends Anson Demarest and McDaniels, are all un- der arrest at' this moment; for as soon as I was sure of proving their nefarious and crim- inal actions, I had warrants issued for them. If you will accept my escort, you shall, with 3 your friends, be conducted to a good hotel, there to stay until I can place youin full possession of all that ypu have lost-for the villains who have robbed you will be only too glad th disgorge, if they can, by so doing, avoid the long imprisonment which they richly deserve." "Thank, thank the God who would not desert us? cried Mrs. Sherman, as she sank down upon her knees, her' eyes streaming with tears. Mother, dear mother, what is the mat- ter?" cried a manly voice, as two more gen- tlemen entered the room, forming a striking addition to the tableau. And Mrs. Sherman was raised by the strong arms of her soldier-son. "O Lord, my husband He's come to life!" screamed Mrs. Lorraine, as the person who came with Edward Sherman stepped forward. "Father, is it indeed my father! 0O Heaven,. this is more than happiness!" cried' Louise, as the gentleman opened his arms to receive her. Mr. McCaw saw that he was not wanted there just then, and he left like a shadow, quick and noiselessly. Mr. O'Ballyhack, brutal, too brutal to feel even in such a scene, stood glowering, for he saw that he could make no more money out of that party. And reader, we too will leave, for this ta- bleau of happiness, new-born from trouble, is too complete for us to strive to alter it. We might tell you more of love and matri- mony between Louise and the returned sol- dier, but even that you can imagine, as well as the position in which Anson Demarest found himself when he was defeated in the Battle of Hate which he had so remorselessly waged against a pure and noble girl. There- fore we have done. [TrB END.] page: 80 (Advertisement) [View Page 80 (Advertisement) ] FREDERIC A. 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