Catholina, or, the niche in the wall
page: (TitlePage) [View Page (TitlePage) ]CATHOLINA; OR THE NICHE IN THE WALL. BY DR. J. H. R0BINSON. NEW YORK BD B10U A A BimDY Ph page: [View Page ] ENTERED according to Aft of Congress, in the year 1861, BY CAULDWELL, SOU'riwOa1i' & WHTNEY, In the Clerk's Office of the District Cozurt for the Southern District of New York. FILMER & CO., ILCTOTT YUBa, 17 Dutch st., N Y. CATHOLINA- OR, THE NICHE IN THE WALL. I CHAPTER I. THE NICHE IN THE WALL. Sometimein the year 17-, a very singular thing happened to one Jean Louis, an honest bricklayer, Who lived at a place called the Old Barrack, in a humble, low-roofed, wooden house, so near the Mississippi, that the sound of its hurrying waters made nocturnal music for his 'ears, which lulled him to tranquil sleep, after the labors and cares of the day. Jean Louis was poor -which he would not have been if he could have had his own way about it- and often found it extremely diffi- cult to procure the means of subsistin' his wife and children. He had skillful hands and a brave heart, but there were seasons when work could not be obtained, or conimmnded small compensation; which made a nervous, desponding man of the naturally cheerful bricklayer. At the time the extraordinary matter transpired which I am about to, relate, Jean was uncommonly depressed on account of one of those deartlis of employment to which allusion has been made. It was night; and a marvelously dark night, too. Jean Louis sat thoughtfully before the door of his dwelling, with his brown forehead in his hard palm, quite unconscious that Night had drawn so sombre a curtain around him. He was thinking how he should get comfortable things for his pretty wife and daughter, and the curly.-headed boy who was nestling at his -feet. The bricklayer was, in fact, contemplating the rugged side of the world. The stopping of. a vehicle near his house, caused him to lift his head and'look furtively into the darkness; but he was not thoroughly aroused from his gloomy abstraction until two persons approached, one of whom asked: "Are you Jean Louis, the bricklayer?" "Unfortunately I am," replied Jean. The person who had addressed this ques. tion, produced a dark-lantern, and held it close to, the bricklayer's face. "You are sure that there is no mistake?" he added. "*I am Jean Louis, the bricklayer, mon. sieur, for my sins., A man must be crazed in *his intellect to forget his name. If I should fancy myself a great lord, or a gentleman born, the sight of my trowel would put me right at once." "Very well, Jean Louis! This point being j established, you are to go with us," returned the man with the lantern, laying his hand on the bricklayer's shoulder, with an air of de- termination and imperativeness that could not be questioned. "When?" asked Jean, his apathetic man- ner perceptibly changing to surprise. "Immediately!" was the authoritative re- ply. "But first you must be hoodwinked." "But, messieurs-this-this-to say the least, is-is not agreeable!" stammered Jean, beginning to feel uneasy. He noticed, more- over, for the first time, that both of the men wore masks, and that their persons were con- cealed by long black cloaks. "You will make no objections!" said he who had hitherto spoken, in a tone so deci, sive that the bricklayer perceived that re- sistance would be useless, unless he were physically able to overpower both his strange visitors. "Your handicraft is needed at a' certain place. You are poor; gold, Jean Louis, will not come amiss. You shall be well paid, and your labor will be light. If you resist, you will be taken by force." The speaker drew al broad strip of thick cloth from beneath his cloak, and gave it to his companion, who doubled it in impervious fold"." "You will subpi't to be hoodwinked." The voice of the unknown was still more resolute. A' ' page: -5[View Page -5] "But my tools-they aro in the house," said tean. "The proper implements of your craft are provided," was the brief response. "But, messieurs, you will certainly let me go within and take leave of my wife?" re- monstrated the alarmed bricklayer. Jean Louis saw something shining before his eyes; it seemed like a fragment offlight- aing in the darkness. "Bricklayer, give me your hand!" Jean tremblingly obeyed this mandate. "Touch this! What is it, Monsieur Jean Louis?" A polished shaft of cold, sharp steel was drawn slowly across the bricklayer's palm, penetrating the horny skin, and leaving a moisttrackbehind. Jean Louis' nerves quiv- ered a little, but he called up his courage and answered: It is a dagger, monsieur. You may put *n the blind. I submit." Jean was urged by-tle philosophy of necessity. Any person yields, when doing otherwise becomes an im- possibility. I "It is hard," he muttered, " that I cannot say good-night to Suzanne! This is not a dog at your feet, messieurs; it is my son-he is asleep; do not. tread upon laim."y "You may say, 'aloud, standing here, 'Suzanne, my dear, I am going away. I shall be gone two hours. I shall get money. Good-nighlt." ' "Jean felt the point of the dagger at his breast, and repeated the formula in a loud voice, while the blind was being fasteLed over his eyes. "Quite well! Come with us, and fear noth- ing." ' His mysterious visitors took each an arm, and hurried him into the vehicle, which was but a few paces distant. They followed, seated themselves beside him, the door was closed by another hand, and the carriage put in rapid motion. - Jean was confident that they turned cor- ners and went in various directions, but was unable to determine definitely their general ' course. He was whirled on and on. Not a word was spoken by his conductors; and the silence grew irksome. He was loot without lurking apprehensions foil his personal safety. The masked men beside him might have dark designsupon his life. Their brief examina- tioc, in regard to his vocation, was, possibly, a pretext to cover a sinister purpose. But Jean Louis could not remember that he had any enemies. He occupied a position too humble to render him a target for the arrows 'of maliee. The nocturnal drive at length terminated, and the bricklayer was taken from the car- riage. One thing he was certain of: he was near the Mississippi; he could hear the sweep of its strong and turbulent waters within a few yards of where he stood. The hood had slipped partially from Jean's eyes" and while it was being adjusted, he perceivel that the vehicle was drawn by two black" horses. - "Your safety," said he, of the imperative voice, and the only one of the two who had addressed him, "depends on your discretion; You will show your wisdom By being blind and deaf." "Show tme my work, that I may do it and go home,' answered the bricklayer, calling up all his firmness. Jean was led a short distance by the hand, when a momentary pause was made. He heard a key grate harshy in a lock, then a door was pushed open, which creaked from disuse. Entering, Jean Louis stood on an uncovered floor; he noticed this fact; as he did every other that his perceptions could grasp, unaided by sight. The door was closed, and the bolt shot back to its place. They crossed a space of some extent, and descended a long flight of steps. Jean's feet now pressed a brick or stone floor. The time consumed in the descent assured him. that he was many feet below the level of the river. He wondered if he were in a tomb, but could recollect none so near the Mississip- pi. The dampness chilled the poor brick- layer, who was still conducted onward, but in a state of mind so confused, that le could reach no calm and rational conclusion coan- cerning the adventure ; he had an imnpres- sion that he walked in a circle some time- which was an artifice resorted to, he sus- pected, to deceive him and prevent any pos- sible recognition of the place, at any future period. Finally, after what appeared a long inter. val to Jean, he was permitted to stop. The blind was removed from his eyes. "Here," said his principal conductor, " lies your work!" The sharp, blinding focus of the dark lan- tern was turned upon the bricklayer's face, embarrasing for a few seconds his vision. When he could see clearly, a spectacle met his sight that he was destined never to forget. Directly before him was a niche about eight feet square, in s wall of solid stone masonry. Sitting upon the ground, his back to the wall, sis head resting unconsciously against the damp stones, part of his face concealed by agag in his mouth, and breathing heavily, was a man, of whose age and condition Jean could form no definite opinion; but he was quick to notice that a chain, locked upon his left ankle, was secured to a stc t staple in the masonry. Jean's conductor pointed to a pile of bricks and a box of mortar, with the implements of b his calling lying beside them. A "Build a wall across that niche!" -The man's voice was so cold anil relentless, that the bricklayer shivered with terror. The dreadful purpose of the mask was now but too apparent. The infortun'ite being before him was to be entombed, alive, in that narrow sepulchre; and the time-defying, pitiless masonry would tell no tale of his fate, per- haps, till the then living generation and actors in the scene had passed away forever. He had heard and read of such crimes, but had regarded them as lhe unreal flights of ro- mance; but henceforth they were not to be thought of as among the impossibilities of cruelty. ' The bricklayer trembled. The silent mask stood on his left, holding the dark-lantern; the speaking mask on his right, with a brace of cocked dueling-pistols in his hands. "WORK!" said the latter, hoarsely. The miserable Jean glanced at the pallid face of the doomed man, and thought how endurable, even happy would be his own poverty, could he be suddenly transported back to his Suzanne, innocent of complicity in the crime about to be donsummated. By comparison, how blest was his lot yesterday! It is by comparison that all are blest or cursed. The speaking mask leveled the pistol in his right hand; it rested on -the third button of Jean Louis' waistcoat. Jean was anatomist enough to know what organs were beneath the third button on his waistcoat, and with anomalous alacrity, con- sidering the circumstances, approached the pile of'bricks and mortar. He seized a chalk line; he chalked, and stretched it across the open space by wo nails thrust into the ground (the fear of death makes u&wonderous will- ing), and then snatching up the trowel with spasmodic haste, spread a coating of mortar, and began to place the bricks. If one could have looked at the lips of the speaking mask, he would have seen a con- tumptuous smile upon them. One laver; two-three-four-five--six! The work goes bravely on. There was a medicinal smell in the air. Jean Louis detected the odor of laudanum ; it purled from the doomed man's breath. '*Drugged!" said the bricklayer to himself. Then he mentally asked Jean Louis if he *would finish the task before the victim re- covered consciousness. If the deed must be done, he hoped so sincerely. As he laid brick after brick, he could not help picturing how shocking such an awakening would be. The trowel shook in his hand, and the mortar was scattered over his work. Hang up your lantern," said the master of these portentous ceremonies to the sub. ordinate mask. "The man will work better if we stand back a little." Then to Jean: , Monsieur Louis, cease your trepidations. When that wall is completed, you will go forth unharmed." "I cannot work while you look at me!?, cried the bricklayer, throwing down his trowl, in apparent inability to proceed. - "Very well. We will pace to and fro, and not observe you; but I swear to ye, Monsieur Bricklayer, that if your work be imperfectly done, you shall not leave this vault alive I Leave so much an air-hole as a grain of sand would fill, and you shall find yourself the wrong side of that masonry!" The mask pointed to the wall, which was now nearly as high as Jean's knees. Awed by this threat, the bricklayer resumed his dis- tasteful employment, the figures of the two masks being seen in the dim -background, moving spectrally to and fro.: With every brick that passed through his hands, and every trowel of mortar that he spread, he looked at the unfortunate, whose grave he was making. Presently the man's breathing grew easier, and his eyes slowly opened; at first' in a dull, dead stare; then, as the terrible truth of his situation gleamed upon his per- ceptions, they dilated with horror. There was a sickly fading of. his face, as he turned it despairingly upon Jean, who averted his game determinedly, resolved not to encounter that look again; but a moment after, broke his resolution, and met that steady, appealing gaze.\ Drops of perspiration fell from ha face, and mingled withl the mortar her wax spreading. Again he broke from the fascina- tion of those glassed and eloquent orbs, again to return. The man slowly raised his hands and made a singular motion. The bricklayer stood paralyzed an instant, then made a correspond- ing movement with his trowel. A flush of color and of hope tinged the man's cheeks-- some secret bond of sympathy had been established between him and Jean. The lat- ter shook his head and hurried with his work. He dropped a trowel full of mortar upon the ; inside, watching it as it fell. The eyes of the. two men met-the implement of his calling made another mystic writing in the air, thei b knocked another brick to its place, and deft- ly scraped off the surperfluous cement. e The masonry grew rapidly under Jean Louis' busy fingers'; it was breast high; it was to his chin ; the doomed was being shut from his sight. Another layer, and the ter- rrible task would be completed. Faint moans arose from behind the masonry, then -hollow i-groans that grew louder, and when Jean Louis r I placed the last brick, a shriek, deadened by - the interposing wall, reached his ears, that page: 6-7[View Page 6-7] curdled his blood. He threw down his trowel and staggered from the spot. As the work approached its completion, the speaking mask had drawn near, and with arms folded on his breast, watched its prog- ress. The moment the finishing touch was given, hei seized the lantern, passed it hastily but carefully along the new surface, nodded his head approvingly, and made a sign to his subordinate, who immediately hood-winked the bricklayer as before, who was then con- ducted from the vault in the same winding manner that he had entered, and placed in a carriage. He was driven home as silently as he had been driven from it; but in a state of mind that cannot be easily described. As the principal mask was assisting him to alight, he put a well-filled purse in his hand, and said sternly: "Tell no human being wkat you have seen, heard, and done this night. Any attempt on your part to penetrate this mystery, will cer- - taminly make your pretty wife, Suzanne, a widow. Jean Louis, you hold a dangerous secret; while it is safe, you will be; but if your imprudent tongue forgets its trust, the assassin's dagger will find you wherever you may go. Monsieur Louis, remember!" The poor bricklayer stood in the dark- ness, with the blind still over his eyes. The word "Remember" and the rattle of car- riage-wheels was in his ears. He was faint and sick, and remained like one stupefied at the door of his dwelling, till the faithful Su- zanne came out and caught him in her arms. Her touch partially restored him, and, he went within, half-stunned with the strange h adventure of the night. Suzanne held the. light up to his face, and pointed at the sleep- ing children. She was startled at his pale- s ness. She questioned im. He kissed her t and said ,' Do not ask me, Suzane!" t4 CHAPTER II. DOCTOR MERIGNY. One year after the:nysterious event just related, and which so disturbed the sensibili- t ties of Jean Louis, the bricklayer, one Dr. v Paul Merigny was aroused from a profound t 'sleep by a furious ringing of hs night- a bell. The yellow. fever was prevailing, the doctor was wOry with professional duties, and did nqt immediately answer the impera- a tive summons. He ed, turned over, and e his tired head fell upon 'the tempting pillow again; whereupkn the impatient bell went into a convulsio of clangor'that he could no q longer ignore. iearose. Having lain down no in most of his clot e ttle time was required for the: adjustment of ais toilet. Stepping into an ante-room adjoining his, office, he wi threw up a window, an aske \ , E; wel "What is wanted " - Is it Dr. Merigny who speaks?1 demanded the avoice. ; ' ith "It is," answered the doctor, trying to dis- g- cern the form of the questioner; but the night mas was Egyptian in its darkness, filling up the ily streets and the vault above like a sea of ink, ed and he could perceive nothing but an unde- his fined mass of blackness. :ed "Your services are required; come at n- once," was the instant respons, in a tone a ng trifle too peremptory to harmonize ith the a tastes of Dr. Paul Merigny. I as "Excuse me, my friend," he replied, co0olly of closing tne window. "I am somewhat jaded he and it is absolutely-needful that I should le sleep." , "nImpossible!" cried the messenger, now speaking with his face close to the ,window- n, Canes. "It is a critical case, and there must n e no delay." r- "There are plenty of doctors; you- will a find them at every turn of the streets." s Doptor Paul yawned and shivered, as if if the iight-air chilled him. e M'Very trug; but they are not Doctor u erignie." ' "Go away!" *I tell you it will not do! I will not go without you. -I will break in your Windows, - I will make a horrible din, so that you cannot sleep, even if a hundred disturbed nights are at Sour heelsI It is a matter of life and death; no common affair, I assure you."' "Yellow fever, I suppose?" "Not in the least! I entreat you to hasten. Reflect how your conscience will accuse you, should you arrive too late." Doctor Merigny put on his hat, placed a *small medicine-case mi his pocket, and opened the outer door. He saw the dim outlines of -a carriage directlytin front of his office, on Dauphine street, so near that he could almost touch it with his hand. A footman was hold- ing open the door. The person with whom the foregoing con- versation had been carried on, motioned him to enter; and took a seat beside him in the vehicle, which moved away without loss of time. It rolled on and on, turning innumer- able corners, until the doctor was quite be- wildered in regard to their direction. "What quarter of th city?" he inquired., after he thought this had continued long enough "Be patient; we shall soon Be here." Doctor Merigny was not the man to ask-;, questions, when assured that he should gain nothing by his curiosity. He was a philoso o, pher, as we hope to show. ,Settling calmly back upon the cusN0ok he awaited the result with the indifference of a man of the world. He had a very-accu&te idea of the size of New Orleans, and was convinced that they had either left it behind, or been driven about on various streets to make the distance seem long. - The carriage stopped suddenly, the doctor got out, and was hurried up a flight of steps., He endeavored to see all that the darkness left visible, which was not mueh. The walls of a large edifice loomed above him; he saw it, as shadows are sometimes seen to flit past a dimly-lightod window, vague and shapeless. One fact could not be concealed: he was near the Mississippi; he heard its roar, felt. its damp breath, and saw lights upon it. He .followed his conductor with- out feeling in any manner disturbed. He was ushered into' a small reception-room, which was faintly lighted by a hanging lamp. The . man pointed to a seat, and left him. Their entry had been, silent, and silently his guide departed. , Without any manifestation of surprise, Merigny' sat down and was very quiet, amusing himself by a mechanical sur- vey of some curious pictures on the walls. He momentarily expected to be summoned to the patient, but no one came; he was com- fortable, and did not allow himself to specu- late upon the subject. By-and-by he heard footsteps in an adjoining apartment-soft footsteps, and the rustling of silk. It was a woman's tread, and a woman's voice that soon after spoke: She is very ill, yet she bears it wondrous- These words were pronounced in a low tone, but Merigny could not help hearing them; they penetrated the dumb walls like elecricity. 4 Some one-a man-who had evidentrly been a previous occupant of the 'room, seemed to be aroused from a state of reverie by this re- mark. Doctor Paul came to this conclusion, because he heard him chankge his position; for Persons, when interrupted, or when a new train of thought is suggested, usually make a new disposition of their limbs orbody. "Leonora l" he said, like one awaking from a nightmare. "I say she suffers, but bears it heroically. How is this,?" ' You have, been unskillful; you have hastened the catastrophe. You always need- ed restraint. Tnhe wisdom of the serpent is your true policy. Has he come?" "Yes; he is in the next room-he waits our bidding. I wish to know more of him. Yoiu :ay he is not rich?" "It ism, so rumored; I know not." :"Well-what of hfs principles? Is he avaricious? impatient of the slow path of gradual accumulation?" ' , "All men love gold," answered the mascu- line voice. " "Is he shrewd? is he acute?" The woman's voice was still suppressed, soft, and clear, but singularly audible "He is reputed skillful." "Reputed skillful!" repeated the other, in a dissatisfied tone. He is young?" "I don't know his age. What does it mat- ter? He is devoted to his profession, and will do his best to save her. What more do you wish?" It appeared to Doctor Merigny that there was something in the cold, dry tones of the speaker that contradicted his words. : "Speak low, De Villanville!" "Madame De Villanville, I am always guarded. One's prudence should be equal to his zeal. A purpose too hastily carried out is apt to be repented of." "I understand you, De Villanville; buts in my opinibn, a thing once resolved - cannot be too soon accomplished." There was no immediate response. "You toil me that she suffers?" he said, presently. "Too much! too much My nerves are frightfully jarred. Why cannot one be ill without so much pain?" Doctor Paul heard a gentle sigh. The lady was grieved that people could not be ill without pain; that was the moral of the ittle sigh. "These walls," thought the doctor, "are highly acoustic. He touched the wall nearest him, to see ;r it were made of paper "Have in the doctor, Madame De Villan- ville; and, mny dear, aid him all in your power to arrive at something definite re- specting this mysterious malady. Ah, how much we suffer ifn the person of Catholina t" Merigny heard the tinkling of a bell, arose, crossed the apartment, stretched himself upon a divan, and when a servant entered to sum- mon him to the bedside of the patient, he was apparently asleep. His slumbers, how- ever, must have been very light; for the footsteps of the messenger aroused him. He was conducted up a flight of stairs to a cham- her fitted up with exquisite taste. His curi- osity, it may be supposed, was by this time considerably excited. His first glance was toward the bed, on which reposed the per. son requiting his services. Never was he more surprised than at the picture that met his vision. A girl of about sixteen years, pale as a lily, fair as an angel, was before him. Hier large, expectant eyes encountered his as he approached the couch, and there was an evident effort on her part to suppress all out. ward signs of suffering. Her respiration was short and hurried. Her white arms were tossed outside the immaculate linen, her face , slightly turned to the! door, while her dark page: 8-9 (Illustration) [View Page 8-9 (Illustration) ] hair was scattered in graceful disorder over the-snowy pillow. She seemed to Doctor Paul too lovely and saintly to belong to the common order of humanity. The exquisite whiteness of her skin heightened immeasura- bly the effect of her sweet expression, which, together with her surroundings and the pe- culiar circumstances of the case; increased the doctor's wonder and interest, calling into action the best sympathies of his nature. Near the head of the bed, sat a lady whose 'age might have been thirty-five years, with her blow, and eyes partially hidden by a white hand. Her air was thoughtful, her attitude graceful and studied. Her features were strongly: defined, full of character, with suffi- cient beauty to render them attractive. S-he kept heri position like a piece of statuary, with the exception, perhaps, of a languid motion of the head wtlen Merigny entered. At the bed's-foot, Doctor Paul perceived a fitting mate for this figure-a man of a dark and sombre visage sitting upright in. a straight-backed chair, with his eyes fixed gloomily upon the floor. He' did not raise them until Merigpy had advanced and laid his fingers upon the patientis wrist. His gaze w 'was then sharp and penetrating. ^ "A tableau ", thought the doctor, whos ' keen perceptions had taken in all the details of the, scene. He was young in years, but not a person to be deceived." Of strong com- mon-sense, of disciplined habits of thought; * experienced in the winding ways of. the world, quick of apprehension, and eminently logical in his deductiqns, he was the last per- son to be duped; He possessed, in a remark- able degree, the power of self-control.-' He comprehended without demonstrating that le comprehended; saw, without indicating that he perceived. His deportment was quiet -and unpretentious. He-never tried to create sensations, nor to impress others with his own greatness. He was faithful tolwhat he attempted, asked but simple justiee of his fellows, was firm in-the right, and utterly in- different to the praise or blame of the vulgar, the presumptuous, and the ignorant. As a practitioner, he was acute, far-seeing, bold, and successful. He bowed -to the lady and gentleman, touched the small wrist of his patieht with .an experienced finger, looked down upon the inquiring eyes, then accepted the seat which; an attendant placed- for him, and watched the l pale face in silence. While making this mute inquiry, other eves questioned him, and looked for any change hs countenance might express. Miu- utes elapsed, and the doctor remained im- movable. He was; mentally analyzing the ease--searching for an outward clue to guide :him to an inward cause. [ r The face of the girl, white as a pearl,.did rhot for an instant turn from him. . He strove intently to read the meaning of those uplifted a eyes that seemed to ask so much at a single glance. There was; pain, anxiety, earnest- , ness, entreaty, and strange curiosity, mingled wi'h terror, in those fixed orbs. She breath- ed with more difficulty, and moaned. Doctor , Merigny's hand went to her wrist again; the pulse was small, wiry, and fluctuating, now i flying rapidly along its secret channels, now intermitting and receding upon the vital or- galns ' . "What is your opinion, doctor?" asked the lady, in a ow and anxious tone. It was the same magnetic voice Merigny had- heard while waiting in the, reception-room. There had been no introduction upon his entree to the sick chamber; but he remembered the name De Villanville, and came directly to the conclusion that he Was in the presence of Monsieur and Madame De Villanale. - "Madame," replied the doctorlI have formed no opinion. One cannot p'b on a case like; this in a moment." "Poor Catholina!", sighed Madame De illanville. "How long has she been ill?" Merigny did not turn his uncommunicative face from his patient, in whose eyes he thought he detected a painful eagerness. "Philip, how long has our dear girl been ill - . - Madame looked at the figure at the foot of the bed. - - . "She has been sinking several weeks," was the quiet reply. 1"The symnptoms, madame?" continued the doctor. - I "Ah! who can tell them better than I, who have watched her with all a t,arent's solicitude? At first, a 'slight headache, then a slight hectic, then a slight cough, and a gradual loss,of vitality. Then came a little nausea, then a little pain in the limbs, then little spasms, and more hectic, more cough, more weakmnss, more everything that was e discouraging. Her appetite failed. She had seasons of dizziness, choking sensations in the throat, .depression of spirits, an unnatural restlessness that banished sleep, huskiness of voice, and, to sum up all, suffering, with scarcely an intermfssion.", She spoke hurriedly, nervously. "Dr. Merigny, this fair creature is .our niece. You perceive in her not one llfe, but threes; for madiame and myself live in Catho- lint." A faint, troubled smile passed over the lips of-the girl. , "Monsleur, I comprehend,;.your happiness fluctuates with the .varying symptoms of this disease, and will be fatally 'wounded when ; page: 10-11[View Page 10-11] this feeble'frame"-?-the doctor touched the white arms of Catholina--" burns out and expires." "Yoa speak like a man of sensibility. But you lose time.* See how she struggles with her misery! She bears hler martyrdom like a saint. Let me beg of you to give her some sedative that will at least palliate her pain." "Monsieur, you must give me time. There is so little life in this fair casket, that I can- not, da,'e not risk it on a hasty judgment." "Doctor! doctor I give me releasefrom pain!" It was *,3etholina who spoke. Her voice was like the faint, mystic music of the Pasca- goula. "Mademoiselle," said Merigny, "'you shall be relievei." ; Both Monsieur and Madame De Villanville looked at hih searchingly, his answer to Catholina was of such dubious meaning. Apparently unconscious thae' his expres- sion was questioned, he produced his little case, dropped a gray powder into a small quantity of water, and administered it with his own hand. Everything," he said, with empressement, depends on the action of those few atoms of dust. You must permit me to sit by your niece until the crisis, whilch is aplproaching, is past." Madame pressed her handkerchief to her eyes. '"Have you no name for this mysterious m'lad vy '?" "It is an inexplicablesdestroyer-that seizes only upon those too finely organized. It a, ists from a nervous susceptibilitythat preys uo anrid devours the powers of life ; a slow f a.!ne that grows strsnger day by day." !"I confess that it seems like that,' mur- ' mured the lady. I "f oil confide her treatment to me?" said Dr. Paul. "We do," replied madame. ' Then let me beg of you to retire. The presence of yourself and monsieur can but disturb the patient, who must have Quiet. I will sit by the bedside, observe such changes as may take place, and endeavor to obtain a dleeper knowledge of1 this baffling disease." Madame and monsieur arose. I * Thle symptoms 1 ook such an alarming orm to-night, that I had some fears that she had contracted the yellow-fever. The poor child could not bear up under such a compli- cation," observed the former. di f!ou need not dread such a contingency. I Th e yellow pest is raging fiercely, but I be- lieveV las not laid its finger upon her. The; youin- iady will not dile of fever." "We rely upon your judgment, Dr. Merig- i ny, said Monsieur De Villanville. "Do all! l that human skill may do. Endeavor to con- I quer the insidious foe. % We leave you in charge of our poor niece. Should any start- ling change occur-" "I will announce the fact at once," inter rupted the doctor. Monsieur and Madame De Villanville left the chamber softly. CHAPTER III. CATHOLINA. "Give me air! give me air " saidCatho- lina. Doctor Paul threw open a, window, lisatened a moment to the receding footsteps, ad re- turned to his seat. "Ah! how grateful is this fresh breath from without!" She respired the cool air that purled in at the window with grasping avidity. "Mademoiselle," said Merigny, taking the snowy hand of Catholina, "have you any- thing to say to me 9?" That faint and troubled smile that hle had once before observed flitted over her blood. less lips. "What should I say, doctor? My veins glow like fire. What'is this that consumes me?" There was an imploring expression on her sweet face. "Mademoiselle, can we converse without being heard?" Catholina lifted herself a trifle upon her elbow, and for a few seconds stilled her respi- ration and repressed lher pain; she then fell gently back upon her pillow. "Monsieur," she said, "if you would say that which you would not have heard, you must be very near me, and speak low. You- fear to give them pain, but you need not scruple to tell me the worst. Ah, I know it already! I must die!" "True!" answered 4erigny. "Unless you trust me fully. you must die! Mademrnoiselle, look at me; study me well; exercise those faculties sharpened by pain. When you have taken a little time to do this, say whether you will trust me?" The soft eyes of Catholina rested on the face of Doctor Paul. "I have confidence in your skill," she whdis. pered. "Have you courage?" "I have courage to suffer," she answered. "Do you know," asked Merigny, "what makes this fire in your veins, and kindles the wasting-flame in your blood?" A little thrill of fear ran over Catholina. She did not answer. "I can tell you," answered Doctor Paul, impressively. He put his lips to her ear and whispered a word. She started up, shivered, page: 12-13[View Page 12-13] looked wildly at him, and sank back upon the couch. "Pronounce it again," she murmured, " and so low that my soul, only can hear it!" "Poison'!" whispered Merigny. ^ "Poison!" repeated Catholina. "It is a thought that has haunted me; it is one of the vagaries of my malady. It is born of insan- ity." "On the contrary, mademoiselle, it is sim- ple truth. Be calm. You are dying of slow poison I You are being murdered piece-meal! Every day robsyou of some essential element of life. This sudden prostration is caused by an overdose of the insidious agent. The hand that seeks your death became imprudently impatient." "The motive, monsieur-the motive? Why should any one desire the death of a harmless young girl?" "There are usually, mademoiselle, two in- centives to crime; revenge and avarice. Mon- sieur De Villanville is your uncle; your father-" c "Alas, he Tlhe yellow pestilence, I am told, swept him-'way. withhundreds of other victims, twelve taonths ago." "Rich?" "Rich." "You are an orphan?" "Yes." "An orphan and an heiress. Here, then, is the motive.- Mademoiselle, for Heaven's sake, be brave I In me is your only hope. We will not speak the name of the assas- sins." "Be silent, I entreat! Let me think; let me connect together the disconnected frag- ments in my memory, Another word will kill meI!" Merigny allowed her time to reflect upon the istouniding nature of his communication. Shel trembltned, but did not weep. Doctor Paul saw the dark. lashes through /the deflicate fingers which she held over them, but no tears moistened her checks. "'This is terible," she said, presently, "but sontleth ing tells me thlat it is true. I stanid . n the brink of an abyss; I totter-I fall! Monsieur, monsieur! what shall I do?" "Are you bravc?"Merigny askpd, all his sympathies callcd into action by the beauty and heiplessness of Catholiaa. "If 1 am brave, sir, what then?" She looked at the doctor eagerly. I shall propose an expedient that will test all your courage, unless you prefer to have in the officers of justice and denounce your poisoners." "I shrlink from that, monsieur. They are powerful, they are rich. I dare not brinm, agaiBnst them a charge so terrible. Proof , might be wanting to- sustain the accusation. Doctor, it will not. do; I have not strength for it. Besides, if I die, as I fear I must, I have a horror of the surgeon's knife. No, no! I will not be mutilated when I cease to breathe! Rather let this great crime rest in eternal s,- crecy. Give me your alternative, and have faith in my fortitude." "You must die, mademoiselle." AL-e?" "Yes, Mademoiselle Catholina. You must pass an ordeal fearful in itself, rendered more so\by the circumstances of the case. I have, in this little case, a drug so potent that it will, when administered accordjnto art, hold all the functions of life in abeyance. It will stop the labored movements of ybur heart, and hush your respiration to the quietude of death. Immobility will hang like a night- mare upon your limbs, while. your mind will either wander in some dark world of vagary, or rest in dumb unconsciousness." ' Go on, monsieur!" whispered Catholina, shivering involuntarily. "All this," resumed' the doctor, in a subdued voice, "-shall happen before 'the dawn." "Well, I am dead, and Monsieur and Mad- ame De Villanville are informed of my de- cease. What will then transpire?" She was frightfully pallid. "Mademoiselle, say once more that you trust me?" Her eyes beamed steadily into his, then she laid her hand in the doctor's, saying: "I trust you!" "I believe! It is Truth itself that ad-* dresses me." "Good doctor, should I survive the dread ordeal and awake again to the realities of earth, .whlat fac,: may I expect to eve?" "Mine, mademoiselle! You will see God or me." *"I thank you! But if there should be seme error, and I awake to the fearful con- sciousness of, being entombed alive?" "I swear to you that shall not occur. I will not lose sighit of you." "* It is a compact! My life is with you ; I am sure you know what the trustis. At your. will, I die! At yout will, I live! May God order the result. Give me the drug." "One moment, mademoiselle." The doctor stepped to the table, took a hand-mirror from it, and held it before the peerless face of Catholina. She looked into ' it, and smiled languidly. Doctor Paul drew a small vial from his pocket, moistened the tip ,of his finger with the contents, and touched the girl's face, neck! and arms in many places. "Naw look at the mirror. mademoiselle." She obeyed, and closed iat i (.ys in sI rong disgust 'siae was disfigured with sickly yellow -spots. "Ah! monsieur, you did not tell me; but now I know all! I shall be carried away like those hundreds that crowd the tombs. opw frightful!" Merigny bent over her with folded arms; his expression was grave, his deportment gen- ,tle, but firm. . . "I am ready, Doctor Merigny. "Wait!" Merigny rang a bell, and a servant answer- ed it. If Inform Monsieur and Madame De Villan- ville that unmistakable symptoms of the plague have presented in the ease of Made" moiselle Catholina. Warn such of the inmates of this family as fea'r contagion to keep aloof. Good girl, look at mademoiselle." The young woman-a pretty quadroon- glanced at Catholina, and hurried from the chamber. Doctor Paul prepared the drug. "Mademoiselle," he said, in a subdued tone, # if this projves unfortunate, you will be far happier than I: you will be an angel, while I shall be a mortal." "Remcm',or your promise I I shall see you, or I shall see Hm! In that faith I drink this." Catholina swallowed the potion, looked calmly at Merigny, and composed her person for that which was to happen. Doctor Paul resumed his seat, and put up a silent prayer for the success of his hazardous experiment. The door was cautiously opened; he heard some one advance two or three steps very softly. Turning his head slightly, he beheld Madame De Villanville; she was gazing at the spotted face of Catholina. "I erred, Madame," saidl Merigny. '"She twill die of fever. She is dying now." The lady's expression presented a singular anomaly; it exhibited wonder, terror, and something else. She retreated hastily to the door, with her scented handkerchief pressed closely to her mouth. "' It is shocking! Poor darling! My dear doctor, will you, dare you, remain with hler?" "I dare, and I will; it is my duty. If I be not proof against the pest, it is already too late to avoid it. But you, madnme, you--if you insist--" "What, m)onsieui?" she interposed, stand- ing outside the, door, and drawing it toward her. "I was about to say, that if you insist upon taking my plaoe, I will yield to your wishes; yet I mut inform you madame, that it is a post of imminent danger," "implore you to remain!" she answered, shivering..- "It is a dreadful visitation." It is, indeed; and I trust we shall be able to confine its ravages in this house to this chamber. Go at once, madame, and leave all to me-even to the last details." Merigny's voice fell almost to a whisper on the last words. Madame De Villanville closed the door, but opened it immediately, and asked: "Doctor, may I not venture upon one last embrace . Her eyes rested with strange and shudder- ing curiosity upon the now serene counte- nance of Catholina, whose difficult respira- tion had softened till the vital breath purled so lightly from her lips, that she seemed drooping into a peaceful slumber. "If you would hug Death to your heart, madame, embrace your niece t" "Adieu, then, O fair and gentle one I Go to that father thou hast lost, and to that other Father thou hast never seen! Catho- lina, in this world, farewell forever!" Pronouncing these words in a low and broken voice, Madame De Villanville hurried, sobbing, from the infected chamber. "AU is uwell!" said Merigny. Catholina opened her eyes and looked ear- nestly at the doctor, who added: "Fear not, mademoiselle. I feel that you will pass in safety from this mansion. I have faith that you will baffle a horrible plot, and live to coner the criminals with shame and confusion. Ah, whats a hypocrite has but now left us I The drug is acting; it is impercep- tibly stealing away the powers of volition. Do you suffer, mademoiselle?" "My blood is turned to ice, and throbs heavily through my veins. A leaden apathy weighs on my eyes. Monsieur, can this be death?" "Let us hope death is far away in the fu. ture," answered Merigny, soothingly. "If this dark sleep should not prove eter- nal, how long will it continue?'?" Her voice was scarcely audible. "From ten to twenty hours." Her eyes quivered and closed again. A sad and nearly hopeless smile gleamed an instant on her pale lips, and she spoke no more. Merigny wantched the change that gradually came over her, with intense interest. The pulse ceased to throb at the wrist; the hands grew cold. He held a minirror to her lips, and its surface remained untarnished. He raised- one of the passive arms, and it fell inert and clod-like upon the immobile form. Merigny looked at his watch; it was two o'cloek. He waited fifteen minutes, and again rang the bell-; it was not answered. He rang more imperatively, but no hurrying footstep responded. "They fear the pest!" said the doctor. He left the chamber and made his way down stairs. All was silent. He found Monsieur page: 14-15[View Page 14-15] mnd Madame De Villanville in the reception- room, who prudently arose and retired at his approach, making significant motions with their hands. "It is over" said the doetor. "Made- moiselle Oatholina is an angel." "So Boon B" exelaimed De Vilanvile. "Your prediction was wrong." *. "This dire disease often lhes masked in the system, to break out with more violence from its concealment, and end the case at once Science is sometimes: 6t fault. In this in. stance, I eonfeass I was taken' by surprise," replied the doctor, gravely, "This quite overwhelms met It takes away my breath. Mon Dieu! when will this courge cease its ravages?" De Villanville ank, despondingly, into a chair. The evil," suggested Merigny, "ends not here When this yellow plague enters one's doors, it seldom goes fort8 till it has desolated a household. Already, your servants shun i the chamber of your niece." - Madame De Vilhanville's features blanched i with fear. "I know rwhat shall be done!" she ex- claimed. "The remains of Catholina must be removed, and the chamber closed. Doc- tor Mersngny, we depend upon youl. Do not forsake us in this alarming emergency" E "Ma dame, yo ask xomexthing outside the; duties of my profession, but I sympathize i * ithyour distress; I will serve you. f you would not breathe an infeeted atmosphere, yonder fair clay must be consigned to its ,rindred dust as* speedily as hands can accom- plish the sad task. I know this haste will t shock you, blt the living must not fall sacri. flee8 tff the dead." - "Mos8t true! most true!" sighed De Villan- ville. "atholina h48 pa-8ed byon mortal I. aid. Dr. Merigny, I accept, most gladly and gratefully, your friendly services. You medi- cal men bear charmed lives. You display M more courage than the soldier, for you fa 'e death deliberately. I invest you with author- ir ity to discharge this melancholy duty. But, t} first, you will give me a certificate of her death. You will find writing materials upon s( that table." De Villanville Voice shook with emotion; n madame Bobbed hysterieally. T] "It is ell th ought of," arswered Merigny. "Even grief sliout5 not make UB forget any formality needful to the living. ' , "Her name, mqBsieur T' "Catholina De Noyan." ar Doetor Paul sat down and wrote : yc "This may certify that lfademfel ahln De Novas, meee of Philip lea Vilaville, deceased B "on the 9th of May, at 2 o'lcA M y D X 3 "IqwOBair, May kgth, 17--." n- Hre read thMs aloud, then gave it to De is Vil7ansille, who glanced at the signature th folded the paper, and placed it in an escri- to re. The doctor observed this action, but e- without any appearance of curiosity. Both monsieur and, madame, he thought, breathed le. easier aifter that. "You have a tomb, monsieuri?' Eaid Me- te rigny.- n "I have ;. but--ub-.," He paused, look. ing alternately at madame and the doctor. - "Pardon me!" added the latter, quickly, "and with a slight curl of the lip. "'1 should haws remembered that the pestilence ought s not to be shut Up in your family-vault, to be s let loose at some future time. Mother Earth, only, can. extinguish contagion. Monsieur, I Will mark the spot. And now, as all is ar- ranged, and as my presence endangers you, t I will say, Monsieur and Madame De illan- s ville, adieu." I Doctor Merigny bowed and withdrew. No t servant showed him out. The name of the plague had spread terrr through the 1.o use. I The man who had been the doctor's con- duct.,r stood upon the steps, awaiting him. He dropped a heavy purse into Merigny's ; hand, who accepted it without reluctance. "The carriage waits, sir." "Let me be driven at once to Dauplline street. You need not trouble yourself to give me such an airing as you did in gring me here. It is dark, it is true; but I Lave an innate sense of straight lines." "Mademoiselle is dead " Merigny bowed. The man had a lantern; he held it so that the light fell on the doctor's face. 'Thereears two more steps--be careful Of what did mademoiselle die?" Dr. Merigny felt two blazing eyes upon him. . "Of the plague," he answered, quietly. ' "Of the plague! You will rise in the world, monsieur. Get in. How sudden! A his pestilence I a terrible thing. One meets carts at every corner, carrying away "No one knows it better than I, who have seen its ravages." . "* You have a brave heart. I could not be a doctor; I should die of fear and disgust. Then, to see such suffering!" "You are so soft-hearted," said Merifny. "You are right; I was always soft-Eeart ed." "It is ref eshing to find such a one! You are in the service of De Villanville. What is your name?" ".Pierre Lereau-a very simple name, mon- sieur. I am content, however, for I serve q very indulgent gentleman. Poor mademoi. selle 1" S- -I . . "We go at a slow pace, Pierre Leteau." "'Tis that vexatious coachman 1" Pierre opened a little elide in front, and suied: , "Go along, you indolent fellow 1" The " indolent fellow" cracked his whip, and the horses started forward more briskly. They had gone but a short distanee,-when ghere was a violent concussion, and the coach tipped upon one side. The horses stopped very obediently. "What now?" demanded, Pierre,- angrily. "Wheel off," answered the eachman. -"Careless varlet I Why did you not see that it was well on before we started? We wre in a thousand nurrie, you villain!" Merigny was annoyed. Time was very pre- aious. tie tlioughi of the beautiful sleeper that he had just left. He opened the door ad sprang out. Pierre let fly a volley of aths at the soachman. "I connot wait. Trouble yourself no fur- ther concerning me.' I shall walk." "But, monsieur," began Pierre. "I shall do well enough," said Merigny, somewhat impatiently. "It is darker than Egypt, and the way-" "I do not fear darkness. Put on your wheel, and return." It was about three o'clock. The night was as black as at the beginning, but Merigny per- eeived at once that he was on the Levee. The great river was sweeping on at his left. Hie could not fix precisely his locality, but was certain of soon finding some familiar land- mark. He moved slowly from the scene of the accident, increasing his pace as he widen- ed the distance. He was eager to fulfill his compact with Catholina. He heard a low, prolonged whistle from the direction of the crippled carriage. The sound was so peculiar and unexpected, that Merigny was startled; he was so oppressed with the responsibility resting upon ilra, that nothing eaeaped his attention, so keenly sensitive was he to any- thing that might interrupt his purpose. He involuntarily stopped, but hearing nothing more, went on. He was thinking where he should go, and how he should manage the re- moval of Catholina, when some one darted upon him out of the darkness. He was viio lently assailed; a hand clutched his throat; a weapon glided through his garments, and his bosom felt the touch of oli steel gliding like a serpent in contact with .his flesh. A consciousness of his trust-his fearful trust- made him strong. He recoiled, shook off the choking hand, and dashed his fist into the face of his assaulter, who fell. The doctor threw himself upon him, and a short but deadly struggle took place upon the ground. But Merigny was cooler than his assailant, and in his determined self-son. sentration, took advantage of his impetu. osity. The unknown assassin made desperate ef- forts to pierce him with his dagger while the doctor held him to the earth. The latter was but too certain that it was a matter to be de- cided at once, and wresting the weapon from the man's grasp, buried it to the' halt. in his breast. A hollow groan told the story of mortal pain. Merigny arose? weak and flur ried from the conflict. He listened; tried to gaze into the blackness, but could hear, could see nothing - save the dark shadow at his feet. The roaring of the river suggested what he should do. He seized the warm body and east it from the levee; there was a heavy, sullen plunge, and the momentarily interrupt. ed current rolled on. Merigny stood listening to the rush of wa ters. The same mysterious, protracted whis- tle reached his ears. He answered itcin a manner singulary identical. Presently he heard the crack of a whip and the rattle of wheels. Pierre Lereau was in motion again. CHAPTER IV. DOCTOR MERIGNY MAKES A FRIEND The carriage approached, but turned into one of the various streets leading to the levee before it reached the spot where he was stand- ing. Merigny was now greatly embarrassed. The recent incident had disconcerted his plans. His life had been attempted, and he doubted not but Pierre Lereau was an aecom- plic and abettor of the act. It might be more serious even than this; De Villanville himself was possibly the prime mover of the intended crime. If this was so, how adroitly he had played the hypocrite! Doctor Paul was in a state of painful usn certainty. How should he return to rescue Mademoiselle Catholina from the terrible danger that hung over her? A sickly feeling of discouragement for a moment benumbed his faculties. "Never was man so perplexed!" he mut- tered; "I should have followed the carriage. No; that would have availed nothing. I promised to save her; I had rather die than fail. A horse and cart were worth their weight in gold e" Stimulated by such thoughts, Merigny hur- ried on, and soon turned to the right, into what he believed might be St. Ann or Orleans street. He had proceeded but a short dis. tance, when he heard some kind of a vehicle lumbering toward him, and quickened his pace to meet it. It proved to be a horse and oart, of a kind much in use when the plague prevailed. On the forward end of the carts sitting on a board, placed across from side to side, Dr. Merigny discerned the figure 'of a man. . page: 16-17 (Illustration) [View Page 16-17 (Illustration) ] "Stop a momenit, ry friend,'" said the doc- tor. i Impossible! my businessa is urgent, and I am late!" was the immediate answer. Me- rigny saw him raise a heavy cart-whip to strike the horse, and promptly sprang before the animal, and seized it by the bridle. "If you area highwayman," cried the driv- er, "yon have chosen a miserable subject to practice on!" "This horse and this oart are you rs?" said Merigny. "God forbid!" replied the man, with evi- deint disgust. "Who would willingly own a dead-cart?" "I care not. I require your. services;with- out the 10oss of so much as a single instantof time. It is an affair of ,the first consequence, and you cannot too quickly eomply with my wishes!" , ' : "But, monsieur, I tell yon I am no sexton I I am but doing but a charitable act for a poor. neighbor of mine, whose, iife, poor :fellow! died yesterday, while he, is spotted .for death to-morrow. Nobody would bury her; so I procured this enart, and amn, going to do for hm wha:t some neighborly hand may have to do for you and I, monsieur, perchance!" "Have you the body?" "No;i I am going for it. Don't hinder - me.,:. Merigny relinquished his hold upon the bridle, and leaped nimbly up beside the driver. "Were ten thousand bodies awaiting burial you should go with me! What are the dead to the living? Let them fester!-let them rot!" exclaimed the doctor, sternly. ' The man in' the cart fel;.the muzzle of a pistol' pressed against his: chef "Spare me, monsieur! I hi . wife and children. Tell me what I am J " The man spokre in a submiud voice. Merigny hit his foot against something that sounded hollow. -* AH 1 what is that?" he involuntarily mut- tered ; and, looking down behind him, saw as dark, long, phantom shape, from which came an odor of fresh paint. . "A coffin!" replied the drier.- "' It took my last dollar to buy it ;but4he was a good woman, and I hadn't the liearflto put her into the round without onet" .., "^ t speaks well for your humanity, and +s8s&5is mft^^.puuld not bave found a bet ter/fnn Fpose. You shall not auffer los8s. ] qh levee, and turn to the left, an L '.ilttell --you what is required. Lite an4 death -hanL on our movements. What is your name "' ' Jean Louis." ' Jean Louist? A bricklayer?" "The Same." 'v "I remember you. I attended one of your children through a severe illness. "Dr. Merigny?" "Yes. - I have had, 'this night, a strange adventure., I cannot. make you acquainted with the -details. Time presses, and these flying minutes are hours in point o1 impor- tance. What have you beside the-the box 9" A spade and a pick; my'feet are on them, to keep them from rat ling.1" ." What is this 'bunle?" "A pair, of overalis and a' blouse; I use thlem when I work at my trade, and as I am to dig, I threw them into the cart." * Stop I Jean Lonis, and let me put them on," said Merigny,' ea'erly. I A disguise is what I need. But this hatl! what shall I do with tlis hat? They have seen it. k "What do you say ' But no matter; therm is a paper, cap in the' bundle. - TTh is i a mystery that 'cant 'understand; but I'll do your bidding, if there's nothing wrong to be done." ,' ' Merigny'leaped from the cart, crushed his hat, and-threw it into the river, hastily drew on the overalls, 'and" put on the blouse and cap. He then smeared his thoots with mud, and soiled his liatds and' face with the same. Mounting'the cart again, he resumed his seat beside Jean Louis, and took the pick and spade between hiis knes. "This is marvelous!" muttered the brick- layer.' "How slow this wretched animal travels t Follow the" levees until I bid you stop. Jean Louis, can; I trust you?" "Try me." "A body must be taken from a certain place as 'spleedily as possible. If we are too late, one of the sweetest of the daughters of Mother Eye il}, I fear, be buried alive." "Heaven hagrepercy on us all!" exclaim- ed the rektWie }- It is a fearful thing to be buried alive "r ," Ye," 5aid Merigny. "'Anid to'bury one alive, too!" added Jean. "AsI said,'I cannot explain; but we are to .tobp at a house by the river, and get the b ofy of what *as, a short times ago, a beautir ful young grlI ,If we ail, Jean Louis, I shall be .:lorever miserable." ' -.. "How can you find the place in this darbl nesst" . ' .., ' : The spot is too deeply impressed upon my mind to be forgotton. It is growing light, er, too; but I fear'too much light more than darkness. I must not conceal from you, my friend,' that it may .be a. work of danger- which danger may'be in entering and leaving the house. You will remember that I ama poor grave-digge, and, if questioned, will re- ply,.that you had directions from a gentle,. mam unknown to you to inter a body." page: 18-19[View Page 18-19] do I will do my best," answered the brick- layer. "What sound is that behind us?" asked Merigny, uneasily, whose sensitive ears heard everything. - "' It is the rattling of a dead-cart. I hear them so often that I know their peculiar rum- ble a long way off." Merigny clutched Jean's arm convulsively. "Urge on--urge on!" he said. "I have a, Minsgiving-I don't like that cart. How rap- idl' it comes! Lay on, man--lay on with your whip! What is horse-flesh to human flesh?" The bricklayer stimulated the, poor hack with his whip; but its strength was not suffi- cient to cope with the rival beast behind, which came on at a swinging gait and over- took them. Merigay's heart sank within him. He im- alined hot could hear, some distance in the rear, a carri:age containing Pierre Lerean, preceded by this shadow of death that rat- tiled at their heels. "Get out of the way there you tortoise!" shouted a rough voice. ] Jean Louis dexterously kept his horse in the middle of the way, but the cart, despite his efforts, was driven up beside them at a gallop. "How's business, neighbor? Carted away a good many of 'em, have ye? It's a jol- ly time for our trade, isn't it?" hailed the faster cart. "I've trundled 'em off by the scores," re- plied Merigny, disguising his voice. "It's a great time for us, brother; a merry time, in- deed. Rattle 'em off, I say-rattle 'em off!" "Bravo! bravo!" was the response. "Where's De Villinville'd? There's a bit of clay down there to be carried away." Withl all his presence of mind, firmness, and philosoplhy, it was some seconds before the doctor could reply with that indifference which it was necessary to throw into' bis manner. "M b Dieu!t hasn't got among thatsort., of people, has it? Well, it don't care for nobody, it would seem. Porcelain will get broken as well as common ware. You will find your fare about a quarter of a mile be- low, on your left;' you will know the house by its being bigger than any near it, and Wy the steps that lead up to the door. You can't miss it." , The cart dashed by them. 9 "Slacken your pace," said Merigny. "Do you hear anything behind?" "No." "Stop I this should be the place. It is imaged in nmy very soul. I can scarcely 4 breathe I Drive up to the steps. Be firm, and observe me." The doctor alighted from the cart; Jean Louis dropped ,the reins and followed. Lis- tening, he heard the steady murmuring of-the great river, and through the lifting shadows ot morning, saw spectral shapes that gave him a strange and startling thrill of remembrance. He stood motionless, thinking of the man ii the wall. He fancied he could hear the dull clink of a trowel, far down below. He invol- untarily raised his arms and let them fall again. Merigny Shook him by the shoulder. - What has happened to you? Have you manhood? Have you pity? Have you love of daughter or wife in your heart? Help me lift out this box. I tremble with an agony of impatience." "It is not cowardice, monsieur, but a hor- rible flash of memory," answered Jean, assist- ing the doctor to drag the coffin from the cart. ' Hush! dao not call me ' monsieur'; but ' grave-digger,' or ' my good fellow,'" ad- monished Doctor Paul. "There-now we have it. Take the lead, mount the steps, and thunder at the door." The black concomitant of death was borne up the steps. The bricklayer seized the mas- sive metallic knocker, and clattered away im- periously; then, perceiving that the door ws not fastened, pushed it open. A quadroon girl-the same who had attended upon Catho- lina-appeared in the hall with a waxen can- die. Her teeth chattered at the sight of the men and their burden. "Where is it?" asked Jean Louis, gruffly. She flitted ialong the hall and up the stair before them, keeping as far from them as possible, [he^ pinted, placed the candle upon the floor, a few yards from the dreaded chamn ber, and fled. "Hasten! hasten!" whispered the doctor. The bricklayer threw open the door. One glance assured Merigny that everything wA tas he had left it. The features of Catholina retained their deep and wondrous repose. A soft and pleasant expression lingered on the white lips. But for those yellow spots here and there, she might have been mistaken for an exquisite image of wax or marble. They placed the box beside the bed; they reverently lifted Catholina. Both trembled while they composed her person in the nar- row receptacle. Doctor Paul, with all his power of self-control, was terribly shaken by anxiety for the result, "Mon Dieu I I hear the rattle of wheels Screw on the lid! Loosely-loosely! the aiM must not be excluded. That will do. AhM the wheels again! Let ius out of this acurv- ed house with our charge!" They raised their precious burden, hurried from the chamber, along the corridor, and page: 20-21[View Page 20-21] down the stairs. As their feet pressed the last steps, they heard distinctly the rumbling of a cart. The c6flin shook in Doctor Paul's hands, and large 'drops of perspiration from his forehead fell upon it. Never before was he so agonized with suspense. Every thought, hope, and aspiration was concentrated on the pale sleeper. All the years of his life had not furnished such an intensity of care, such a fever of eagerness, as these moments. While they were passing through the hall, they saw a tall, dark figure standing in an open door. '"Farewell, my poor child!" said a voice. Jean Louis shivered, and came near drop- pinf the coffin. The doctor pushed him forward. The bricklayer was thinking of two man in masks. lie could -have sworn that he heard thering of a trowel under his feet. On the threshold, on the steps, on the ground, on the cart, at last, with the dawn- ing light of morning faintly tinging the east and the cool air from the river breathing upon them. The doctor grasped the reins, and Jean Lou- is seated himself upon theblack box, to steady it. The vehicle rolled slowly from the man- sion, in the direction they had sent the other cart, which they soon discovered standing at a door. "It is the carrier that has given us so much uneasiness!" muttered Jean. i"The fellow is knocking at a side-doer, very much out of temper, I should judge, by the fierce impa- tience of his blows. Here is a street at the left. Turn into it; I will be with you in a moment." The bricklayer dismounted, anid ran to the rival cart. He overtook Merigny before he had driven far. "What have you done?" asked the latter. "Taken a linch-pin from a wheel. See: here it is. He cannot go far before lie gets a fall. There! he has started. Don't you hear him? In five minutes, if the wheel does not roll off before, lie will be at the house we have left. What will happen then, doc- tor?" "I don't know," he. answered, lashing the horse. * Most likely we shall be followed. The fact of two carts coming for the body will naturally excite suspicion. How dread- fully slow we creep along!" "If we are pursued and overtaken, shall] yon give up the body, Doctor Merigny?" asked Jean, nnxiousIv. 4 "If I had a hundred lives, I would lose them all ra:ther than surrender it! I have made a solemn promise, and I'll keep it. Sorrow to him who presumes to interrupt me! I will meet force with force. I am armed, my friend." "Where are you going, monsieur?" inquir- ed Jean. "To your cottage, my friend." "No-no! that cannot be. I cannot as. sist to carry the plague to my wife and chil. dren!" - Doctor Paul make a peculiar movement with his hands, which reminded the bricklay. er of the man he had walled up. "You hailed me, doctor," said Jean, an- swering the sign. - "Do you object?" added Merigny. "I cannot--I dare not! But the plague, doctor? Ah! 'tis a severe test!" The bricklayer sighed. "Do not- fear; we carry no pestilenec. You cannot forsake me in this extremity. You will not violate the pledges of our mys- tic brotherhood, of which the implements of your calling must daily remind you?" "I am yours in life and death!" answered Jean. ' You shall rejoice for that resolution. Oh, this sorry beast! Hark! I hear that ominous cart! We are pursued. He has been to De Villanville's; he has aroused suspicion ;, and here we are, dragging along like gnails! The loss of the linch-pin has not crippled his movements!" The unpropitious vehicle was heard ap. proeaching rapidly; it wpuld soon be in sight. Merigny yielded the reins to Jean, and drew his pistol. The cart stopped suddenly. "The wheel is off at last!" eried the brick. layer, joyfully. "We shall escape him, yet. What is that before us?" "'Tis another of those odious carts! And see! it is wellfreighted. Just from the hos- pital, I'll warrant." The bricklayer, whipped forward, and soon overtook the 'heavily-loaded conveyance. The pursuing cart dame on at a furious rate. Merigny grasped his pistol and looked deter- mined. His countenance suddenly bright. ened. "A word with you, my friend!" lie criedj hailing the driver of the vehicle" before him; "Let's hear that word," was the careless response. "I want to exchange a box, with you. A gold piece for your trouble." "One box is as good's another for me; so give me your gold piece and take your choice. Drivin' a bargain with the doctors, ell?" The man stopped. The. doctor sprang out. thrust a golden coin into his palm, and while he, was examining it in the feeble light, Morigny seized the rough casket of Catholina with nervous energy, and placed it upon the top of his dismal freight ;.thrn hurriedly se- lecting a coffin of corresponding size, drag- ged it from the heap and thrnust it into Jean Louis' cart. All this was done in a moment, {. \ for Doctor Paul'sarms were wondrously strong with excitement. "My busy fellow," said lie coarsely," here's another gold piece to keep your tongue from mentioning this trifling matter. A pretty good' thing, isn't it, cemrace? I shall claim that box presently." "Not bad; bit money's plenty now-a-days. There'll be nobody left but us dead-carriers, Boon." Merigny made no response, put his pistol in his pocket, and allowed the fellow with whom he had bargained to get a short dis- tance in advance of him. The hindmost cart was now very near. The long leaps of the horse brought him within hailing distance, then to the side of their tardy wheels. "Hillo, you fellow! what kind o' work do you call this here? Do you make it a biisi- ness to steal honest folks' fares?" "I get all I can in the way of trade, That's my style o' doin' things. Sharp's the word. Go along, comrade, and don't bother," re- plied Merigny, assuming the rough manner of his questioner. . "I'll trouble ye for that ere box!" returned the carrier, interlocking one of his wheels with the wheelof the bricklayer's cart, effec- tually checking further progress. "Take it, and welcome! Shan't have to bury it. Got a good beast there, neighbor." The carrier stopped from his cart into Jean's, and muttering and grumbling;, took possession of the box, which, after consideras- ble tugging, and very little- help from Me- rigny, le deposited in' his vehicle. Heaping opprobrious epithets upon his supposed ri- vals in his dismal trade, le turned his cart and rattled qff in another direction. "That was cleverly done," said Jean Louis. "Good riddance to the rascal!" The whip was again br'ought into requisi- tion, butt it was not without a painful effort that the poor beast was urged to a sufficient speed to overtake the vehicle in which the doctor had so deep an interest. Distracting fears that he should miss it, and some new misfortune result, made him wretched and nervous till the task was accomplished, and the casket again returned to its former place. The morning light was breaking brightly, when Doctor Paul arrived at the bricklayer's cottage, with his strange freight. CHAPTER V. AT THE BRICKLAYER'S. The black box was carried into'the cottage as quickly as possible. Suzanne, the brick- layer's' w'ife, saw this ominous burden cross the threshold with face aghast with wonder. She looked inquiringly at her husband, who said: " A I "It is nothing to harm you, my dear. It is only the body of a poor girl." "And what, Jean Louis, do you want of the' body of a, poor girl?" "I don't know. He wished to bring her here"-Jean made a motion of his head to; ward the doctor-" and so we brought her." Suzanne glanced at Merigny, and shrank from him with strong signs of repugnance; for his appearance was by no meats prepos- sessing-his hands, face, and clothes being soiled with clay. "What is he? You are confused, Jean; I see your conscious guilt. This creature'is a body-snatcher. Starve, my husband, but do not enter into so horrid a traffic!" cried Su- zanne. "Peace, good woman!" said the doctor. "I am not such a wretch. Look at me!" Merigny threw off his cap. "I am Doctor Merigny. I saved your child. Give me a room where I may take this." - Where you may be with that!"Oh, Doe- tor Merigny, Hfear that you have gone madl I owe you gratitude, but why should you bring the plague to a house already made miserable by poverty?" Suzanne turned away her face, and held her open palms toward the doctor. "The room, woman, the room!" added the latters impatiently. Suzanne silently opened a door. "I cannot deny you. You know not what it costs me. Sad days are these, doctor. We owe duties to the living as well as to the dead." Merigny- and Jean hastily bore their bur- den after Suzanne, who, by way of precau- tion, threw up a window as soon as she en- tered the little apartment. The room was neat, though scantily furnished, with a bed in it, covered with clean linen. - "God bless you'!" said the doctor. "Now leave me.* Suzanne went out, with a regretful, depre- eating air. Merigny tore off th6 lid of the box, and with the aid of 'Louis placed Catholina on the bed. "I must have the box for the use for which it was first designed. I must hurry with it to my poor neighbor, and return the horse and cart to its owner," said Jean. "Go out; I will pass it to you through the window. It will .spare questions from your wife." This was soon done; and the doctor leard the cart rolling away to perform its original mi-sion. Merigny locked the door, and closed the shutters of the only window in the room. It overlooked a street. He then threw oft the bricklayer's blouse and overalls, and wash- ed the stains from his hands and face. It is - , page: 22-23[View Page 22-23] not easy to tell how promptly these things I were done, and with what eagerness and ab- sorbing interest he turned his attention to Cathohina, whose features were still placid iu that marvelous -sleep. He raised the delicate, hand and held it a moment between his; it was cold. He tried *he wristwith his finger; there was no flutter of life in it. He pressed his ear to her heart; elence reigned there; the wondrous workshop of vitality had forgotten to throb its secret energies to the fair and motionless members. Taking a tiny 'Vial from his case, he put some drops upon her lips, At her nostrils he held a larger one, which emitted a strong- ly pungent odor. There was no stir of nerve or muscle, heart or breath. So Doctor Paul watched and waited. . An hour was like aday in its weary length; but it passed, and another, and yet: another, and there was no transformation of the ap- parently dead. He continued his efforts, hanging faithfully over the insensate form. He consulted his watch; it was mid-day; the doctor thought it should have been sunset. The bricklayer had returned. Occasionally he heard him conversing, in a low tone, with his wife. At one o'clock there was a gentle rap at the door. '"What do you wish F"Merigny asked. "Are you not hungry?" inquired Suzanne. "Hungry? the saints forbid Do not trouble me." "Oh, sir! I fear-" "What do you fear?" The doctors voice was somewhat hoarse. "It is a frightful thing to be shut up so long with the dead!" said the woman, timid- 17- '":It would be more frightful to be shut from her." Merligny unlocked the door, and, thrust out &:handful of money. A shower of golden coins fell at Suzanne's feet, rolling like. min- iaturewheels upon the floor. Another hand- ful followed. "Here-!" cried the doctor. "And here! Go and buy food for yourself and children; good food-fill your cottage. Bring wine, o." ' , . With screams of delight, the children I began to play with the bright, yellow coin. The bricklayer's wife had - never seen so much money at one time. , The idea of the ' doctor's iaeanity was now fully established I in her mind.' ' "Pick these up, Joan, and save them, that 1 they may be returned to the-poorgentleman a when his wits come beack." "Louis, heed not the good woman; the i money is yours-it is but a drop of my grat- itnde, Hasten for food and wine." : ']rigny closed the door ,and turned the i I key. He looked at Catholina; her counte- nance was still fixed in that awe-inspiring quietude. He paced tot and fro. He knew not how time elapsed, but it dragged on- miserably on, and the dusky shades of twi- lightcrept into the little room. The shutter was gently opened, and a bottle of wine and a glass were stealthily placed on the window- sill. It was thebriclayer's rough h ind that performed this unobtrusive kinidness. Me- rigny seized thile bottle, poured a brimming glass, and drank with nervous haste. He was beginning to despair; he had not yet. detected any evidence of vitality. A lighted taper appeared in the same man- ner as the wine. It was what he wanted; he held it to the marble face. Was there a little flush of color in the cheeks, or did his hopes deceive him? He drew a small table to the bedside, placed the taper upon it, and seated himself in the same position he had occupied when Catholina fell asleep ; now feeling for a thrill of the pulse. now applyi'ng moisture to her lips, and gentle friction to the arms. There was a feeble flutter at the wrist! Merigny was faint with joy. 'The agony of suspense began to roll back. He placed his cheek near her lips, and felt the first. ripples ot respiration upon it-the first waves of vitali-. ty softly billowing from the hitherto hidden and motionless sea of her existence. His usually firm hands shook with the intensity of his emotions. He needed no wine, now; the tweet wine of expectation allayed thirst and hunger. and banished fatigue. A sigh, a' quiver of the chest; the heart beat time to the mysterious music of life! Out of darkness, out of death, out of pesti. lent chaos, came the white soul of Catholina to inhabit its matchless casket. Silence was in the room; the taper dimly burned , the light beamed on them faint and soft. Catholina's eyes, opened with a trem- bling of the lids, and a tremor of her person. At first she perceived, sensed nothing; then came a flash of memory and of sight. Slhe saw a pale fee bent over her-a face eager, triumphant, yet wondrously calm. A gleam of glad recognition illuminated her coun- tenance, while a smile sweet, grateful, and heavenly, broke like sunlight over her lips,. Mademoiselle," said Merieny, reverently, "I promised-that you should sec God or me. I have kept my word: behold me!" Catholina could not speak, but she laid her hand in his, shuddered, and smiled again-a smile so full of thanks, yet so sad I He gave her a little wine ;. she. -swallowed it passively. He raised her. adjustedthe pillows, and drew the blankets,more closely. around her.. Shet accepted these attentione with childlike docility. Her eyes wmandered. around the room. A doubt was evidently lifted from her mind; "You are not there," said the doctor. "It is right you are safe." "Thanks!" It was the first word that had passed her lips since the unsealing of her volition. It *as a simple word, but it had a silver sound. "How long?'" she added. "Twenty hours,"' answered Merigny. "You have suffered?" "The day has been long, mademoiselle. Despair and I have become acquainted to- day. But I beg of you not to think of me, nor of the past, nor of the future. Have but one thought, and let that be, ' I am safe I' You are in the cottage of an honest man- dead to those who sought your life, but alive to those who will save it. In a moment, one of your own sex will be with you. Her name is Suzanne; you can trust her, as you may all that I shall allow to approach you. I shall not permit you to talk. You must have rest-undisturbed repose." "Monsieur, I am in your hands." Merigny unlocked and opened the door.? "Suzanne! come in." She obeyed reluctantly. He pointed to Catliolina. She held up her hands, exclaim- ing: , "Ah! . ah! What strange thing has hap- pened? The dead is alive!'" "Yes," replied Merigny, the dead is alive. This is MademoiseLle Catholina. Su- sanne, I trust her to your care. The poor child needs sleep. Sit beside her, and min- ister to her as if she were your own daugh- ter." "4 But those frightful spots!" said Suzanne, appealingly. ,1 They are not plague-spots; you can re- move them with the contents of this little bottle." "God bless you, doctor, for the assurance! Now I will prove to you my gratitude. I will show you that I am a faithful nurse. You shall order: I will obey. Doctor, you are deadly pale! Forgive me for thinking you mad." "Give her a little more wine," said Merig- ny, a and then do what your woman$s instinct tells you to do." . "Will you be far off, monsieur?" asked Catholina, timidly. "I shall be so near," he answered, " that' the voice of Suzanne can call-me to you in a moment." , Catholina closed her eyes with an expres- sion of perfet trust, and Doctor Merigny withdrew to the next room, Wlere he found the bricklayer watchinghis sleeping children, and awaiting him anxiously. "What has happened?" he demanded. "What I hoped," replied Doctor Paul, fer. vently. "Alive?" "Alive." CHAPTER VI. ONE TOO MANY. "Who presumes to knock at my door it that manner-?" exclaimed De Villanville. The clatter of which monsieur complained was indeed remarkable; it was violent And continuous. "It is insolent!" said madame. , Fanny-- Fanny ", The quadroon came. if What means that clangor? Go and order the ruffian, whoever he be, to be gone." Tho girl went away, and soon came balok. "'Tis another carrier, monsieur." "Another earrier!" repeated De Villanville. "What does that mean?" Fanny shook her head, inapprehensively. "Two for Catholina!" said madame. "It is one too many," added monsieur. "Go the door, Philip, but do not venture too near the frightful creature." De Villanville followed Fanny, who opened the outer door, and retreated. TlThe former, standing at a prudent distance, demanded: "What means this disturbance? How dare you, fellow? Is my Irouse an inn?" - "Doei De Villanville live here?" asked the author of the noise, stepping across the thresh. old. "Yes." "Somebody to be buried." "No!" said monsieur, emphatically. "Who sent you?" "A man who rode in a carriage. Told me to drive fast as I could." "A man who rode in a carriage," repeated De Villanville, quite mystified. "4 MAny people ride in a carriage. Did the carrialge follow you?" "It started, but got wrecked against a post, The driver was intoxicated, I think. Didn't. stop to ask questions. I'm a honest carrier, who 'tends to his business." "'This is singulart- I cannot understand. One of your dismal trade has already been. here, and the body is on its way to burial." "I don't jest like ,this here. What's to p y me for sich a jaunt? Is hoss-flesh to go fr- nothin'? Polks ,ughter know what they -want and what they don't," grumbled the carrier. "Brute!" muttered De Villanville, who w; disturbed by this incident. ' "You are Bsure. you were bidden to come here?" "I know what I hear with my own eart don't I?" said the carrier, doggedly. "This ia remarkable!" murmured mon- i sieur. "Something has gone amiss. I wob- der where Pierre is? Ah, he comes! I heac, page: 24-25[View Page 24-25] the sound of horses' feet. Wait a moment carrier." f ' Pierre Lereau soon flung himself fiim the back of a horse, and mounted thi steps hast- ily. ., , "How is this?" asked De Villanville. "How is what, monsieur?" "A second cart has come for the remains of my poor niece."' "A second cart I How can that be when I ordered but one?" The very thing I wish to know. It is true that a carrier has b'een here, and the body re- moved." "I am amazed!" protested Pierre. "Was everything right in the north?" in- quired De Villanville, significantly. , Perfectly. The river runs on swiftly to- night; it is chilly, too. I hope I have not taken cold. I have heard it said that one should, whistle to keep comfortable in the night-air. I have had two mishaps; first, a wheel came off, which detained us some hin- utes; next, that villain, Joseph, dashed against a post, and disabled the carriase so that we had to leave it, and ride the horses back." "You are sure there was no mistake- no blunder-no change of purpose?" " have not a doubt." ' "Then tell me why this fellow is here?" It is the very man I sent, monsieur." "Tlue! But who sent the other?" X "I wish I knew. It is perplexing'" ] "Possibly he heard you giving directions to this man, and hurriedyon before him, out of j sheer rivalry in business." "That wasn't so, begging your honor's par- don a for I'll wager a dozen fares that I over- t took the thief that came here. He directed li me to the wrong place. May both cart and s horse tumble from the levee into the river! I went a full quarter of a mile below, makin' a terrible din at every door that bore any re- semblance to the place described, gettin' heartily cursed for my pains." "' Pierre- Pierre!" exclaimed De Villan- to Ville, anxiously. Pierre was confounded. "You did not again see this scoundrel?" h added De Villanville, addressing the carrier No; but I heard his cart lumbering slowly h up a street." "I dare not trust the dust of my poor niece Ye ,in such hands. Pursue him, honest fellow, and take the body from him. Bury it carefully. Do not heap it in with the common herd; al- Do low it a separate resting-place. Place a little wooden cross over the spot, that you may af- s terward show it me. When this is done, come be for your-reward. Meantime; take this piece of *a gold to quicken your movements." de De Villanville threw a coin at the carriers tsn feet, much as he would tosas bone to a cur. Wo nt, "What is your name?" "Jude Sctwartz. For further informati on he go to the undertakers." Jude drew up his shoulders facetiously. ;' Go at once, and don't fail!" said De Vil- lanville, with an impatient gesture. * Trust me for thiat! I owe the liar a grudge. ns and I'll pay him off, I'll warrant. He drives a wretched beast. I'm gone, monsieur!" [I Jude Schwartz hurried away; well pleased with his commission. le "You had better mount one of the horses, e- Pierre, and follow a short distance behind, to see if he is faithful or needs any assistance." Pierre left the house without reply, manifest- a- ly perplexed. Monsieur joined madame in her room. D- "Fanny," said the latter," go up to our t poor dear's chamber, open all the windows, e lock the door, and bring me the key." e "I cannot-!" replied Fanny. a "Why can you not?" asked her mistress, sharply. it "I am afraid of the plague. If I breathe i these three times, I am sure I should have it, and die." D ",What right have you to tebar?" began madame, with some temper, but checked her- self." Silly thing I You cannot die till your time comes." "I will not go! I had rather jump into tlm river! You may kill me, but I dare not go. I should expect to see her ghost, too." 3 Fanny ran, shivering, -from the room, to join her fellow-servants, and talk' about ti' fever and mademoiselle. " You see, Philip, that there is a panic in the hoese. Every one thinlks of his or her life. Come I let us serve ourselves; let us show more courage than these menials." "Excuse me, Leonora." i "You a coward, too?" "I could meet death on the field of battle, but I shrink from this horrible yellow demon. Did you think you heard the sound of a trowel to-night, Leonora?" " Hush, visionary! How long will you suf, fer these fancies to haunt you? Look at this hand." She stretched out a very white, pretty hand. "Observe how much smaller it is than yours. Take hold of it. Does it tremble?" "No, Leonora; it is calm and cold." "Yours is hot and nervous. Come, Philip. Do not let a woman shame you." " Proceed, madame, I follow." i The pair stood in the now shunned cham- ber; there was a medicinal smell in it, and a vacancy and stillness there to make'one shud- der. Where was that peerless human shape that had so recently pressed that disturbed couch? As madame thought of it, jolting l; nnhonored and alone to the stranger's burial- ground, a little tremor went over h1r person. "Poor soul! poor soulP!" she muttered, and raised the windows. - "Richer than we, perhaps," said De Vil- lanville. "' Don't drivel, .Philip!'" "One is not iron, .eonora! This affects even you; you cannot disguise your secret terror. Do'not touch those garments; death may be in them 1" "N,t the yellow death." Madamie was folding some articles of Cath- olina's dress. She stopped abruptly, and turned to hler husband ' "Philip, was not this fever strangely sud- den? Did you like Dr. Merigny's calmnesss?" "It was sudden, and the doctor was calm." "The error of employing him might have proved a fatal one. Hoe was too quiet, too conscious. I could not brook his eyes." "You never need fea Dr. Merignys eyes!" ," Philip!" Madame dropped the article she held; she looked at him steadily, but he gazed moodily at the vacant bed. Madame breathed hard a moment, and mechanically opened a little drawer in the table by the bedside. "It is gone!" she exclaimed. "What is gone?" "A chain and picture; his picture." "Catholing asked for it yesterday,.and I gave it to hler. Do not think of it. I. hope it will be buried out of sight!" "There were symbolical characters on the reverse of it. Perhaps he belonged to a se cret order. You had better lave cast it into the fire, Philip!" "Leonora, I could swear that I heard that accursed trowel again!" murmured De Vil- lanville. 1 "This air is not good for you, Philip; let us go.'* A sudden chill seemed to affect madame, and she closed and lockea the door with evi- ient trepidation. "For Heaven's' sake!" she whispered, "never speak of that trowel again! Turn your thoughts on something more cheerful. Think of our son-think of our Raymond, who will be with us in a fewr days, or even hours. We shall find him a fine, handsome fellow. - Raymond will be rich, Philip-very rich!" " Ye3, Raymond will be -,h," repeated De Villanville,&bsenitly ; " but one cannot for- get. I dream of bricklayers and masonry." " You shall find forgetfulness in me and in Raymond. ' He will come to us full of beauty and manhood." ' I "May he keep his conscience unsullied! May his soul be like a sunbeam! The com- panionship of crime is-" 4. "I hear a step in the hall! It is quick and qager, it is his step; no other would be so , joyful," interposed madame, and was hasten- ing forward, when De Villanville stopped her. "Pause, Leonora! Reflect upon our situ- ation; our son finds us plunged in grief and affliction; we meet him with subdued glad- ness. Tears ofsadness mingle with our greet- ings. He will ask * ' Where is my cousin?'" "Have I not shown myself the stronger of the two? Do you distrust, me now? Re- lease me, and let me fly to my son!" She threw off De Villanville's hand, and flew down the stairs. Her instincts and heer hopes had. not deceived ler. An elegant young man miet her in the hall, and received her in his outstretched arms. "My boy!" "My mothler1" She, kissed him, and pushed him from her, and looked at him. "Ah! Philip, how tall and comely he has grown!" ' Raymond," said De Villanville," welcome home 1" ' The young man held out botlh hands to-his father. I thought to take you by surprise; but I find you up, and apparently waiting my com- ing. Some busy little bird must have flown to tell you. Where is Catholina? She is sleeping, I supposes?" "Yes," said madame, with a sigh; "Cath- olina is sleeping!" "Let the pretty dreamer be called at once. I cannot wait till the usual hour of rising. I have heard that she is a marvel of perfection," added Raymond. i "So perfect, that she has been deemed worthy of the companionship of angels." "Mother! you make me tremble I What mean these sighs, these downcast looks, those tears? You fill me with apprehension." "Raymond, Catholina is dead!" "Dead!" repeated the young man, aghast with dismay. "The plague!" saidl Madame De Villanville. "The yellow horror!" added her husband. " You strike me dumb t When was this F" "At two of the clock, this morning." " Thank God! I shall see her body," said Raymdnd. "Alas, Catholina!" "4My son," 0aid De Villanville, "she is hidden from us all. The stern hand of neces- sity is upon us * she is buried." " Such haste is shocking!" exclaimed the young man, imlpulsively. "It adds to the bittelness of.1ereavement," answered madame./ "You have returned in an evil hour. Had there been time between the announcementof your visit and this des- ignated day of starting, we should have page: 26-27[View Page 26-27] warned you to remain. The dead-carts mnake melancholy music in the streets. Friends are hurried out of sight as soon as they cease to breathe." "This news destroys the pleasure of return. I had resolved that Catholina should be my pet." Raymond was much agitated, '"Come! This is a dismal topic," said his fathier. "Let us think of it as little as we cau. Grief follows us enough without invit- ing its presence." He hesitated, started. "Leonora, did you hear-" "I heard nothing," interrupted madame, abruptly. "If I could see her!" said Raymond, thoughtfully. "Do not dwell upon the subject, my son," whispered his mother. "It has already af- fected your father's mind." "But I must, I will see her!" muttered the oung man, in a voice scarcely audible, as he mechanically followed to the drawing- room. "Sit here, Raymond, where we can see you in the full ight," said De Villanville. i' We want to mark every change that a four years' absence ehas made. How your pin flashes! Of what quaint device is it?" "A strange device, truly," answered Ray- mond, with-a faint smile. "It is a golden trowel set in diamonds." "A damnable device!" cried De Villan- ville, almost fiercely, excited in a singular manner "Philip! Philip!" It was the warning voice of maiame. Your father has a horror of artisans and vulgar taste," she continued. "But it is a beautiful thing, I confess-the workmanship is so fine, and the setting so exquisite. Look, Philip." "Yes, I see; it is very elaborate," said Do Vilhinville, with forced composure. "But I hate mechanical symbols." "I'll remove it," said Raymond. "By no means," returned the other, cheer- fully. "Forgive the passing whim. Re- member what a shook I have received." f'You must have rest," responded mad- ame, with soothing quietness. "Raymond, you, too, need rest. I have prepared a room for you far from that fatal chamber.' The servants shall tread on tiptoe while you sleep." "You are too careful of me, mother. Col- lege life is not .the most quiet existence. I am wonted to noise; I could sleep if a hun- dred bricklayers were plying their trade, with but a wall betweenius," said Raymond carelessly. Madame De Villanville darted a quick look at her husband. His countenance e flushed, and he remarked, with a frown! a "Raymond, one might mistake you for a e laborer, instead of a gentleman." Then' to his wife "Yes, Leonora, we need sleep. Ah! but who can sleep? But Raymond is r young: grief sits lightly on such. Will you have refreshment, my son?" "No; with your permission, I will have 3 solitude. I will think of Catholina." "They have stricken me without knowing it," said Raymond, in a melancholy voice, when his mother had embraced and left him in the room so long and carefully prepared for him. "They imagine that I have not seen her sinces she was a child. 'They know not that I have met her, and gazed with silent wonder at her glorious perfections of person. And so she is dead! How can I realize it? Oh! but for one glance at those features-- marked though they may be with pain and pestilence!" He glanced at the diamond trowel, which was darting rays of 'white fire at the waxen candle. ;' Strange," lie continued, in the same re- flective mood, "tlhat my father should be so affected at the sight of this symbol. He was not wont to be nervous. He has a careworn look, and a certain wildness in his eyes, I noted at certain moments, which is quite pe- culiar. Possibly the plague has unnerved him. Alas for Catholina! Beauteous one, I weep for the I!" t CHAPTER VIL. RkYMOND GOES TO DAUPHNE STRRE. It was four o'clock on the afternoon of the same day. Raymond joined his mother in her dressing-room. She was reclining upon a couch, in graceful deshabille. "Mother," he said, with a languid smile, "you are still young and handsome." ' Thank you, my noble boy!" she answer- ed, with a grateful glow of pride. , I know if I were not a son, I should be a lover," he added, in the same pleasant tone, pressing her soft hand to his lips. "Wlhat music to hear you, my son- Ray- mond, my son! Never was flattery so sweet as thine; not even when I was a girl, and your father sighed at my feet. You are more comely than Philip ever was." "It is said that I have my mother's face." "I think so," replied madame, with a heightened color. "Why do you press your har to your heart? What means this odlor of salts? Are you ill, my mother?" "You remember, those headaches, Ray" mond? Horrid things! they yet afflict me. Constitutional, I suppose. Please reach me the vinaigrette V" "You must have a physician. What doe. tor do you employ? I will go for him at once." "Doctor Merigny; a young man, but with the reputation of great skill," responded the lady, with a little'moan of pain. Where is he to be found?"' "At Daupliine street. - But you need not go: I will send Pierre. The fever rages so, I dare not trust you oit. Poor Catholina fell an easy victim, because she was not ac- climated." "No one can serve my mother so well and BQ speedily as I. I have no fear of the con- tagion. Those that aro not afraid do not die." "Well, my son, Joseph shall drive you there. Do not stay long, for the. sigl4t of you does me more good than a score of doc- tors. Not so fast, Raymond! If lie is not at home, be sure to inquire how long he has been gone, and when he may be expected." "Of course, mother! I trust I know how to discharge so simple- n errand." The young man went to give the requisite order to Joseph, anT somewhat to his sur- prise, found him at-the door with a carriage. "Where have you been?" ho asked. " Nowhere, monsieur." "Where are you going?" "Anywhere monsieur pleases to order." "To Doctor Merigny's-Dauphine street." "To Doctor Merigny's!" repeated Joseph, dropping his whip. "Yes. Is there anything remarkable in that? Why do you stare?" Joseph stood on the box, with the reins dangling -at his feet, his mouth open, his hand's at his, side; and his ten digits distended. "Me-me- Merigny, did you: say, mon- sieur?" he stammered. "Are you drunk, Joseph? or haven't I been to o1llege long enough to make myself understood among coachmen?' You look like a terrified frog! Drive on,'stupid!" Joseph' slowly gathered up the reins, look- ing askance and with curiosity at his young master, who murmured to himself: "There seems to be a spell 6a every one here!" Joseph jerked the horsos. and flourished his Whip. '"Dear Catholina!" sighed Raymond. "I hoped that you would bethe'first to welcome me home; instead, you have gone to swell the terrible banquet of death. Accursed plague " Tle carriage bowled along; "Drive faster, Joseph." "Dauphine street," said Joseph, presently. Raymond 'started from his reverie. lie was so .pre-occupied witlh the remembrance of Catholina that he took no note of time. He got out and clanged the knokerin- a most absent manner. The door was quietly opened. Raymond looked up and cane out of lis abstraction. A young girl, withl a Grecian face and a regal form, stood before him. Expecting to see a servant or the doctor himself, Raymond was somewhat disconeerted'; nor could he entirely conceal his embarrassment from the clear, calm eyes that rested inquiringly upon him. Her hair was like silk of the deepest jet, very long and profuse, arranged in heavy braids, tliat encircled her lbead like a crown. Her 'dress was a-plaii, Wliite muslin. Her arms were bare, ornamented by simple bracelets of jet, wlohi: contrasted strikingly with the white skin. Her cheeks had the fhint flush of the pale-'pink. Her mouth and teeth were perfect, combining both delicacy of expres- sion anl :exquisiteness of finish. Tlihere was s. mething ineffable in her eyes, a! titude, and air. Purity, modesty, and beauty, breathed from her whole' person. "I have come for the doctor," faltered Raymond. "He is absent." "Will he return soc., mademoiselle!" "I do not know." The face of the young w6min was troubled. "May I ask if lie has been long gone?" Raymond spoke respectfully, almost rever- entially; lie felt the magnetism 'of beauty. "A very, very long time, monsieur. He was called up last night, between the hours of twelve and one, in the most urgent man- ner, I have not seen him since. I am great- ly disturbed at his unusual absence. - My brother Paul makes-brief visits." ^ Raymond detected anxiety in her tones. "Seventeen hours!" he said, reflectively. "If nothing unfortunate has' happened, he will undoubtedly return soon. With your permission, mademoiselle, I will sit awhile in his office." "As you please, monsieur." She quietly' conducted Raymond to Merig- ny's office, where he waited an hour patient- ly. He wis reldnetantly leaving, when the young woman returned. "Mademoisele," said Raymond, "will you describe the circumstances: under which the doctor left?" .. "Willingly; for I feel the, need of friend- ly counsel. Doctr Merigny is my brother. leouM not live witlout laim. We are scarce- ly two identitis: wae atr almost one. If Doctor Paul should die, I should not care to survive hirn. Pardon met" she added, with graceful dignity, " for thiis unasked avowal, and I will attempt to answer your question. A carriage -came, monsieur; I heard it rattle to the door in haste. The bell rang loudly and long. Doctor Pauil did not immediately respondy but presently :arose, opened:a win. dow, and wished to know what was wanted. page: 28-29[View Page 28-29] The person who replied was too imperative to please my brother; he closed the window and made excuses. The man threatened and entreated. I looked out, but it was too dark to discern more than dim outlines of a car- riage and horses-almost shapeless shadows blending with the blackness of midnight. The doctor yielded, and was driven away; since which I have received no tidings of him. What do you think of it, mon- sieur?" . "It is extraordinary 1 Did you gather 7 from the conversation what the case wc s?" i "It was not the plague--so said the mes- senger. But what assurance lhave I that he told the truth? None, monsieur, none I I am. confident that he has been unfairly dealt by. Perhaps he was lured away to be assassi- nated. My fears conjure up a thousand hor- rors." The proud form of Doctor Paul's sister trembled with emotion; but her voice was clear, and her face calm. St Here," thoug;ht Raymond, " is a strong will; a pure, lofty, and affectionate nature." She reminded him of Catholina, although her character, in many respects, was quite dissimilar. "Possibly," observed the young man, " he has been seized with fever, and heroically re- solves not to expose you." "He would find some way to communicate with me," she replied, shaking her head. Mademoiaelle Merigay, I beg you will not be offended that a stranger presumes to offer you assistance." Raymond's moaner was, so deferential, that the most fastidious could not have faulted it. "Monsieur, you are very kind. If you can bring me any news of Doctor Paul, I shall most willingly be your debtor. Believe me, I cannot much longer ehdure this sus- pense I What is existence without Paul? Ah, monsieur, he is 'a noble fellow!" "I cannot doubt it!' answered Raymond,. pleased with her devotion to her brother, and Surprised at her self-control. He was sure 'she was suffering all the tortures of suspense, yet held back with a strong hand every demonstration of weakness. Hier classic fea- tures expressed deep, earnest intensity, re- strained and guided by a mind of uncommon power. Her womanly dignity protected her' against that enthusiasm which her beauty was calculated to inspire. "I will hasten to make inquiries in every direction," he continued. "If I gain any intelligence of Doctor Merigny, I will come to you without delay." Raymond would further have expressed his interest, had he not deemed it prudent to for- bear. Bowing low, and quite bewildered by the sister of Doctor Paul, he returned to tho carri::ge. "Where shall I drive, monsieur?"Joseph asked. The young man gave him directions, then settled back among the cushions with a sigh for Catholina, and a hope for her hhe had just parted from r ' CHAPTER VIII. THE ESPIONAGE. Raymond had first intended to be driven to various parts of the city to make inquiries concerning Merigny, but changed his pur- pose and returned direetly home. "What success?" asked Madame Do Vill. " anville, with affected carelessness. The young man observed that his father looked up anxiously for his reply. "The doctor wras tot nthome, and what is Very singular, has been absent some eighteen hours." Monsieur De Villanville settled back in his chair,'and refrained from encountering the eves of Raymond; while madam thrcWa side- long glance at his fushed face. "* Quite unfortunate!" she observed. "1 Eigh- teen hours is a long time for a physician to be away from hls office, when ther4 are, doubtless, crowds at hisdoor,' demanding his services." a It is extraordinary!" said Raymond. -"His absence will not appear so remark- able," answered De Villanville, " if you re- flect that the plague is abroad. He has probably joined the solemn procession of his patients. Many that walked the ground yea- terday, are beneath it to-night." His sister is much alarmed." "Sister?" repeated his father. Yes, a young and lovely creature," re. turned Raymond. "Many sisters are bereaved. The sallow destroyer is no respecter of persons," said madame. "Think of Catholina," she added, sighing. "I have thought-I do think of her t" ex- claimed her son. "4 The idea of her sudden death and hurried burial, .haunts me like a ghost. How is your head, mother? You are pale ; it still aches. I am going out to search for Doctor Merigny." "You need not; I assure you I am better. It is grief and consternation that make my brow throb. What can medicine do for the sickness of the mind? Be content, Ray- mond." "Consider the distress of Mademoiselle Merigny I Common humanity urges me to make an effort to find him. Mother, you ara too pitying to' attempt to deter me." "What can you do? Nothing. Who can you ask for information? Which way will you go? Consider the impracticability of running this way and that, among so many people, in whom the love of self-preservation is paramountt to every other thought. Let the dead bury their dead!" "Mother, who attended Catholina?" Raymond put this interrogatory with an abruptness that embarrassed both madame and monsieur. They looked at each other. "We sent for our family physician, but a stranger came, and too late," said his moth- er. "Doctors are always too late for this de- vourer of human life." "What time did he arrive?" continued Raymond, with a pertinacity that annoyed both. "You should ask any one but me. I have not been in a state of mind to have a very distinct notion of time. The doctor must have come between eleven and two, I think. Did he not, Philip?" she replied, appealing to her husband, and unconsciously contract-, ing her white brow. "Yes, Leonora," said De Villanvil]e, moodily. "Let us change the theme. It is dreadful to have one's thloughts constantly running on death and doctors. What was that?" He started, as if an unpleasant sound struck his ear. "The creak of a shutter, Philip," she sooth- ingly replied. "Ah, yes; the creak of a shutter," lhe re- pented. "Eighteen hours. That corresponds very well with the statement of Mademoiselle Me- rigny. I doubt-" Madame shook her head warningly at Ray- mond, who now discovered that the subject was distasteful to his listeners. "It is our duty to be cheerful," she inter- posed, (' and look less at the dark side of life., Le everything that savors of care, anxiety, and dread, be interdicted. A tranquil mind is the best antidote to disease. Raymond, we must be hopeful-and prudent, very pru- dent, ny son. In these times, one ought not to go into the streets.". "If you really feel better, mother, I will X retire to my room, for I confess I have slept little since my return. To-morrow morning I v trust you will see me refreshed and cheerful." 1 "Now you talk like people ox sense," re marked monsieur. "Take care ox yourself, mty seon. for you have much to live for. When tis panic is over, you shall spend a great deal of money. You willbe rich, Raymond -very rich! Ah, what is there like money, T after all?" I ] De Villanville struck his hands together and arose from his seat; he stood a mo- ment in a sombre cstaoy of triumph, then. 1 dropped back into his chair as if sudidenly withered by remorse or terror. "Accursed sound i" he muttered. "Will It never cease?" "He loved the poor child so tenderly!" murmured madame. "Go, my son, go. the sight of-you revives too vividly the remem- brance of his loss in Catholina." Raymond left them, witlh conflicting emo- tions swaying to and fro within him. He could not tell why lie felt relieved when he was alone, with their questioning looks no longer upon him. It was something new to be ill at ease in the presence of those dear to him by the strongest tics of nature. A shadow, had fallen Letween them and himself, the meaning of which'he could not comprehend. There was a secret terror in his. soul, the ex- istence of which he Ecarcely had lnowledge of. It could not be said that he had distrust- ed, for his thoughts lhad taken no d4nite di- rection, and were too troubled and discursive to grasp anything tangible. His mother had spoken of rest, but his mind was too much like an agitated sea to admit of repose. Catholina, Mademoisello Merigny, and the doctor, could not for a mo- ment be banished from his perturbed brain; each and all seemed connected with this pres- ent life. The air of his room was cl-se and suffo- cating. It appeared to him that he could not respire it with safety. He opened a window and put forth his lhead, that the cool atmos- phere of the gathering night might fan his face. "I will fulfill my promise to Madenoiselle Merigny," he said, by and by, when he had listened some minutes to the roar of the riv- er-the waters of whichl were fihst being ob. scured by the deepening twilight. He re- memabered his mother's warning respecting the pestilence, and added: "Those live longest who fear the least. Btsides, there is no immunity of place; death creels alike into hovels and mansions. I will go out; I will inquire for the doctor; afterward, I will hasten to Mademoiselle Meiigny." Making some changes in his dress, and arming himself, he stealthly left the house. He had reached the street, when, to his annoyance, he met Pierre Lereau-a person to whom he had already taken a strong dislike. "Will you ride, 'Monsieur aymond?" "No!" "Monsieur knows that everything is at his disposal." Pierre's manner was quiet and assured- more dike that of a superior than a subordi- nate. "Very true," answered Raymond, "No one is better aware of the fact than pmyself, but I prefer mtoy feet to-night." , page: 30-31[View Page 30-31] "Kcep the plague in mind, monsieur!" "I hlave no fear. Inform no one that I am not in my room. "Pardon, Monsieur Raymond, but what strange jewel is that which shines like a ser- pent's eye on your breast?" "That," replied Rlaymond, coldly, "is a bricklayer's trowel." Pierre fell back a step, stood still, and stared at the young man. "A brickltyer's trowel?" he repeated, al- most inaudibly. 1 Raymond glanced at him dad passed on, remarking to himself: "My trowel affects every one in this house like a talisman. I wonder what secret influ- ence it lhas?" ', It was not very late; but a cloud charged with rain hung over the city. 'A fin/e, watery mist floated in the air, which soon began to fall slowly in drops. Raymond paused at theo first corner, to learn if he was followed by Pierre. He waited but a moment before see- ing a man stealing after' him, whom he had no difficulty in recognizing. When he was opposite the corner, the young man stepped forth and confronted him, much to his em- barrassment. Where are you going." asked Raymond. "To a wine-shop, just above," stammered Pierre. "You were following me," said Raymond, sternly. "Yes, I confess it. Ah, sir, do not expose yourself to the contagion. You are young, and have much to live for. With you, life is at a higher premium than with those miser- able ones who die in huts aud hovels, and by the waysidle." Piers:e spoke in a voice of friendly yet earn- est remonstrance. Raymond was not so much touched by his devotion as Pierre thought, under the ciroumstances, he ought to be. "I do not pretend to fathom motives," the young man replied; " but Hknow that your watching cannot keep away the plague. God only can control it." "True, monsieur, but there is such a vir- tue as prudence, you know. Wht would monsieur and madame say, if they knew you were abroad, traversing the pestilent streets?" "I have a talisman that will protect me." "A talisman?" "Yes," answered Raymond, with empresse- ment. This m:.gic trowel will proteot nme. While I wear it, no earthly power, can harm me."' Raymond made this bold avowal without premeditation, and with no particular motive in view; it was a sudden flash of imagination, which he expressed as it came; but the dec- laration, simple at it was, appeared to fll with?reat weight on the mind of Pierre-- who, having remained silent a moment, re- marked, in a troubled voice: "You certainly do not believe in charms? Monsieur is jesting!" Raymond, pereeiving that his improvised invention had affected Pierre, hastened to bolster it up with a new fiction. "There is a strange secret connected with this trowel. Every night it mysteriously disappears, but returns at a certain hour." !" limpossible!" Pierre Lereau tried to laugh, but his throat emitted a husky, unnatural sound. "Really, you are facetious! Ha, ha!" Raymond maintained a grave silence. - "At what hour does this mystic trowel dis- appear, Monsieur Raymond?'"Pierre laugh- ed again after this interrogatory, yet waited with evident interest for an answer. ' "One hour before midnight, and returns one hour after; which makes an absence of two hours." , Midnight-two hours P' repeated Pierre. "Very extraordinary.!" "Past belief!" sald Raymond, wondering at the manifest credulity of his listener. "I .know not what you know, nor the mean. ing of this silly invention; but I warn you, young man, not to repeat it to your father, who is a matter-of-fact man, and hates the meaningless embellishments of fancy that sometimes divert others. Talk plain common- sense to Monsieur De Villanville. His ner- vous system has been shocked; at times he is like a musical instrument out of tune. Be careful how you touch the discordant notes." Pi, rre spoke hurriedly, and with forced calmness. 4 I need ask no one how I shall deport my- self toward my fathller," returned Raymond, quietly. "Ah, monsieur, your manner of telling a story is admirable! Truly, your gravity im- posed upon my senses. You young fellows learn so much at college I A talisman! Ha, ha! MYVstic trowel! Goes away and comes back again. All, ha! Excellent in its way. Would Monsieur Raymond consent to sell me the wonderful jewel?" ; "It is not for sale. Go back, Pierre; you have already detained me too long." I Yes, I will go-I am going. But be care- ful Raymond-be careful!" Pierre's voice had a singularly warning sound, which rang in the young man's ears long after he had left him, perplexing him not a little. . CHAPTER IX. THE CARRIER. As Raymond De Villanrlle pursued 'hi way, he could not help reflecting on what had just occurred. It was in vain that hle ques- tioned him-elf respecting the impulse tlmt led him to exercise his imagination upon Pierre. He could only wonder that such a whimsical tale lad passed his lips; for, he was not much addicted to inlulge, in flights of fancy. The deportment of Pierre also made some impression on his mind; but other thoughts came to obliterate it for the time being. He went to various quarters where the fever was raging, and made inquiries for Merigny. Many were too much absorbed in their own griefs to heed him; while terror prevented others-from giving intelJigible answers. ,He found some who knew the doctor, and a few who had seen him two or three days since, in attendance upon thq sick; but not, one who could give a more recent account ,f'him. He called at various police stations, but with no better success. Determined to be faithful to the seff-impos- d duty, he continued his exertions till a late hlour, encountering many objects to shock his sensibilities. In some places, he found weeping and lamentation; in oth rs, bacchanalian revelry, as if the wretches, feeling that they were to be the future victims, had resolvedto make the most of the remnant of life that remained to them. He at length came upon a man standing beneath a dim street-lamp, with a heavy cart- whip in Heis hand. A nearer view ofe him al- most induced Raymond to forego his pur- pose in addressing him-' his face was so re- pulsive, and his manner betrayed so little sympathy for his fellow-heings. He wlhistled, cracked his whip, and sung snatches of street- songs. Conquering to some extent his aver- ion, the young man accosted him: "Do you know one Doctor Merigny?" "I've carted away a heap of doctors, but am never particular about names. I trundle 'em off without respect o' persons, and them as wouldn't never speak to each other in life, find themselves cheek by jowl in deathi. That Cshows that we'r. all of common airth, though there's many that sets themselves up as being better than their neighbors." "You are a carrier?" said Raymond, in- voluntarily. "At your honor's sarvice. Give me the name, street, and numnber, and I'll be there in a twinklin'. Lively times these be, and we have to work fast to keep up with the business. Haven't slept much for two or i three nights, there's been so many waitin' for their last ride." Raymond regarded the man 'with silent aversion. "Don't you fear the fever?' he asked. "Fear the fever! - What does it want of a Oor devil like me? Hasn't it got better fesh to feed on-flesh fairer and tenderer? Ha, hla! Little the plague cares for Jude Schwartz, nnd little Jude Schwartz cares for the plague." "Have you buried a young woman late- ly?"Raymond asked, impulsively. "Heaps on 'em-cheaps on 'em!" exclaim. ed Schwarttz, lifting himself and striking the ground with his whip. "A young woman, indeed! Ho, ho I you are humorous to-night, mister." . - "Humorous, fellow? Heaven forbid I Your indifference saoeks me. I re fr to a beautiful y)oung lady, who was carrind away at about two o'clock this morning." "I carried away ten last night, but saw the face of no beautiful yung lady. All I look. ed at were spotte. with the yellow death." "Did you go to De Villanville's?"' "Now you come to the p'int, youfng man. When folis talk plain, I can underrtand 'em." "Here--catch this." Raymond tossed the carrier a piece of mon- ey; he caualht it dexterously, shook it a few seconds in his palm, then dropped it into a canvas bag which he concealed in the lining of his blouse., * "They keep droppin', droppin' in. I love to hear 'cma drop in, monsieur. A musical sound is the clinkin' of broad pjeces. If I had a son as was old enough to set on a cart and drive a horse, I should say to him: 'My son, go into this here business.'" "You did go to De Villanville's?" said Raymond, impatiently. "A large, Frenchy-lookin' house near the river?" t' Yes." "Grand, keep-awny-from-me sort o' peo- ple?"Rayind made an affirmative motion. * "Yes, 1 rattled down there in a great hur- ry. Vexation enough I had in findin' the place, bein' misdirected by dishonest fellers tlhat hadn't no right to be in Ihe trade." "Do not stop, man, to tell me the delails,P interposed Raymond, decidedly. "Inform me at once, and without digression, whether you took a body from that house?" ,' Well, 1 suppose that I may say I did'; for the long and ehort of it amounts jest to that. Want ml to go again, eh? My ,rt's jest round the corner, and I'll be down luere in no.- time almost. Will you jump on- and ride? Plenty o' room, and nobody has ever com- lained that has rid with me."i r Jude Schwartz rubbed his hands, and chuckled over his horrible pleasantry. "Be ilent and' listen to me!" said Ray- mond, with sternness, "Can you find the spot where you buried her?" Oh, 'twas a Ar, was it? Well, I didn,' know. Pootty etout one, wasn't it?" "Will you answer me, you savage P' cried Raymond, both shocked and angry. page: 32-33 (Illustration) [View Page 32-33 (Illustration) ] "Don't be fiery," replied Jude, drawing circles in the air with his wlhip. "I was told to mark the epot, and I did. I can go to it in the darkest night*" The young man stood a few moments ab- sorbed in thought. "Get your tools and conduct me to the -spot," he said, arousing himself. "Whlat did you say, monsieur?" Raymond hurriedly repeated his order. "( Another to put in, eh? I'm not much in the diggin' line, you see. Have all I can do to trot about andpick 'em up. Hain't got so low as to dig vet. ,You'll find poor devils enough on tiheground, who makes a business of it." "You shall be paid, fellow. Get a spade and come along." "Jest as your honor likes. Am allers will- in' to 'commoodlate a gentleman as pays. It's a odd fancy to go out among the dead folks at night, but thiat's no business o' mine. Thle tools are in" my cart; though, as I have told ye, I seldom stoops to use 'em imyself. You ean take a seat beside of me, and we'll be among the silent ones right soon." "Lead the way," said Raymond, briefltv. A few moinents later found him seated beside Jude Schwarz, upon the dead cart, moving with tolerable speed toward the-fields fast fill- ing with the victims of the pestilence. CHAPTER X. EXHUMATION. Raymond felt the motion of the cart, but scarcely realized where he was going, or what he intended to do. A strong desire to see Catholina possessed him. He forgot the plague and its cadaverous spots. It' seemed impossible that death could destroy her mar- velous beauty. That face would retain its loveliness in defiance of disease and mortal- ity. Nature herself would sympathize with such divine excellence, and make an excep- ,tion in favor of Catholina.,* This-was the pur- port of his flying thoughts, as he jolted to- ward the strantger's burial-place-a swampy, and sometimes overflowed field behind thle city. He was shocked tlihat they buried her there; he would have encased .her in a casket ofivory and gold, and laid her away with the sacred ash s8 of the saints. ' They reached theb melancholy place ; they saw lanterns in various directions, held by hands, or attached to sticks: thrust into the ground. There was adismal coincert of picks and shovels all 'around, broken here and there by the careless burden of a song arising ir- reverently from beneath the surface of the earth, where hardened creatures plied the tools of their craft, indifferent alike to the terrors of death and the humanities of life, thinking of the dross that was to reward them for their toil, aid the revel that would follow. Raymond gazed upon tliis dimly-illuminat- ed scene with feelings entirely 'new. Was there an odor of mortality in the air? . Was there a stifling ooze of deagli creeping up from the shallow graves? It might be so; he could not tell. "Here we are," said Jude Schwartz. "Isn't it a lively sight?" "Have you a lantern?" "4 Yes, your honor; and I'll go and'light it." The carrier jumped frot his cart; and, running to the nearest light, came back with his lantern burning. "Now, monsieur," le added, "I'*ll show you where I, put the box. I didn't dump it in with the others in the trench, but give it a separate bitof earth, 'cordin to orders. This way, sir, and don't tumble into the holes, for there's water. in most of 'em. Now I have it; here's the little wooden cross that I's told to put down, so's there'd be no mistake." Sclhwairtz held the lantern over a fresh heap of earth, at which Raymond looked with awe and grief, while memory was pailnfully busy within him, recalling Catholina as he had seen her, and as it seemed to him she then ought -to be. That irresistible something that had urged him on since the moment hbe heard the announcement of her death, grew more in. tense. "Dig!" he said. "What does the young gen'leman say?" asked Schwartz, dubiously, elevating his lan- tern to obtain a better view of the young man's face. "Put in your spade' and throw out the earth," he answered, inmtone supiprecssed and solemn. "'A queer fancy, that is. What does your worship want?" Doubt and curiosity were impressed on the carrier's featuires. ".Dig, I tell you!" cried Raymond, casting money at Jude's feet, who went down on his knees, gathered it up, and buried it in his canvas bag. "The spadie!" said Raymond. "Spade it is, young gen'leman. I'll run to the cart and'bring it."' Raymond stood by the mound till Schwartz returned. : "Hold the glim,"' said the carrier. Raymond took the lantern, and the man commenced his labors. "A odd world it is!" he muttered. "One wants a thing buried, and another wants it dug up." "Faster-faster I, "Hurried in and hurried out I Isn't that a mystery?" continued Sclwartz. "- Isn't it lucky that we don't plant 'em deep? -Can page: 34-35[View Page 34-35] find 'em hereabouts with scarce six inches of soil on 'emr. But what can a body expect in these times?" Thle sensations of Raymond, while he stood silently lighting and watching the labors or Schwartz, were such as admit of no analysis. He was conscious, however, of a purpose, but had he been questioned, Could have given no coherent reason for it . "Faster--faster!" . "Look 'e here," said Schwartz, brushin the perspiration from his brow with the bac of llis hand. "Ain't I workin' as fast as a cove can? Be patient, won't ye?" "What was that hollow sound?" exclaimed Raymond, with a start. "1 The spade hit the box." "So soon? Such a burial is a mockerery, man 1" "It's better than we does for many of 'em. Here are eighteen good inches of dirt, which is uncommon. We can't talk about six feet in fever-times." Raymond shivered, but did not reply. The man's manner and conversation shocked lhim. i It was revolting to see him standing over i Catholina with such -indifference. When he ceased to answer him, he sang, whistled, and talked to himself. By-and-by the clods were scraped from the a box. "There! What shall I do now, young f gen'leman? The box is as bare as a picked bone. See what money does, your worshil! It malkes and it unmakes; itdigs out and fills I up, and digs out again. Ho! ho! It is a odd y world, it is. I allers said so, and I allers a will," X ! Take the lantern. Where's the pick?" S Jude Schwartz carelessly threw his spade tl on the ground, and mechanically took the p lantern. a " What a voice monsieur linas!" p, ,He lifted the lantern till the divulgentrays flashed full into Raymond's eyes. "Bless me! it looks like a fece cuet out or ice. You'd better go home and go to bed Haven't smiled for a few weeks, haven't ye th Dear me I we carriers are the only sensible folks left,. Don't go mad now-don't bite P" "Give nme the pick, fellow!" The voice of Raymond was deep, husky, bl and authoritative; the poor carrier had not mental strength enough to withstand it; he Bu quailed, shrank back a little, and without tak- tel ing his eyes from the young man's face, on stooped,took up th!e pick, and gave it him. pul t"Hold the light this way, man, and be go( steady. Dont speak; I don't wish to hear me you. Even the dead ears of Catholina mst tie not be shocked by your brutality . the The eyes of Jude Schwartz dilated with up wonder. He had never heard one discourse car of in this fashion, nor seen such an expression in on a man's visage. The lantern trembled in his hand, and, for the time passing, he forgot Dod his bloated canvas bag. I o R'ymond stepped into the shallow grave, sis. upon the coffin. The bead of the lid opened but on binges. He struck the lioint of the pick no earef lly beneath it, and wrenched it open. His whole frame shook as it yielded t- his strength; in an instant he would see the fice ng of Catholina! That expectation thrilled ck him. He looked down; darkness was before a the face of the dead. He motioned to Schwartz to depress the lantern. He obeyed, and Ray- ed mond beheld. not the features of Cntheolna but a bearded, distorted face, horrible in its repulsiveness! y, He dropped the implement he held in his hand, and sprang from the box. m. "Villain f" he cried, seizing Jude Schwartz Aby, the throat, You have deceived me!" et "For God's stake, monsieur! don't choke a poolr devil, who has done you no harm!" ie "Fellow I this is not Catholina De Noyan - n. it is but'tcommon mortality Where is r sHe? What fiend possessed you to play me e a trick like this?" he continued, fiercely, d nearly shaking the life from Jude Schwartz. "Heave'n is my witness, your w,rship!" e stammered the carrier, when Raymond had released hm, " that this is the body I buried g from De Villanville's." . d iTwas a young girl, knave!" r Can't help it, monsieur; but this is what ar got, and there's the cross I put over it. If your worslip 'II only hear me, I'll tell you a all about it." Impressed by the- apparent sincerity of Schwartz, Raymond bade him go on, and'tell the truth. Relieved from immediate fear of personal viol. nee, the carrier related minutely and intelligibly the manner in which hhe had procured the body, to the surprise and bewil- derment of the yowng man. "Two carts?" hle said, vaguely. "Two of em!" reiterated Jude. is And you overlook the first one, and got this piece of corruption ." He pointed, with loathing, to the grave, "I did, monsieur-I did." "How am I to believe this incomprehensi- ble story 9?" "I don't know, monsieur-I don't know. Butyou may ask De Villanville, tnd lie will tell you that two carriers came, and the first one got the body, and that he ordered me to pursue and claim it. I did foller with right good-will, for carrier number one had deceiv- me. I ieard the rlimblin' of a cart, and, tlinkin' it might be the right one, turned in ' that. direction. A wheel came off; fixed it up, and went on asarn, and came up with cart number one, which was drawn by a jaded page: 36-37[View Page 36-37] horse. I claimed the box, and tley give it Up." - "Did they yield it willingly?" "'Poared to he glad to git rid of it." "And this, you are completely sure, is the identical box?" "An sure of it as I am that my name is Jude Schwartz" Raymond stood a long time without speak- ing. "I can make nothing of this," he said, at length. "i As much as I can, your honor." "There has been a painful error some- where." "Not on my part, monsieur. I'm a poor Barrier, butJI can tell the truth as welfs an- other. I'd take a thousand oatlis, before as M iy magistrates, that I'm telling you no lie. All I! what good would falsehood'do me, your honor? If you are still ill doubt, go to De Villanville, aid lie will tell you about the two cartriers and the wooden cross. I saw his man after it was done; the gold that he gave me -is in this canvas-bag. He said to me, ' You are stlre, fellow, that you lhave done as you weretld?' I said, I Yes.' He looked at me a minute, and added, ' You can go, and for- get all about it.'" Throw back the earth," said Raymond, presently, " and place the cross in its origin- al position. Say nothing Of thi- to any one. Here is more gold; let it seal your lips to every one but me. Do you understand?" AA I do, monsieur." "Then obddy me faithfully. I shall know whether your work be well done. I shall see you arain." Raymond went away like one, in a troubled drewam, and the sound of the falling olodsilol- loweLd him. CHAPTER XI. WHAT HAPPENED AT MSRIGNYVS. Raymond found his way to Dauphine street, Bao,re perplexed than he had ever before been. Hie felt himielf entirely unable, with the knowledge lhe then possessed, to solve tWe myst ry. If Jude Selwartz had not grossly deceived him, there w, ts something concern- ihg the burial qito inexplicable. The Viotulhb occurred, that if he could find the first ca rrier, he might ob'ain some light in regard to the subject; antd ,he resolved to do so lolln before lie reached Merigny's. It was past midnight ,whenl he rangthe doe tor's bell. Mdemtoiselle M rigny opened the door herself. She was paleir than before, but seemed glad to see him. "Monsieur," she 8 lid, vo" our countenance is not the harbinger of good tidings." '* Mademoiselle," answered Raymond, whose kheart beat fluster at sight of her. "I have , , heard nothing of your brother. I have in, quired for him in various quarters of the city. without success." "Come in, monsieur; You are kind-to think of others when selfishness, fear, anu grief, fill every heart." Her voice was low and sad. Raymond fol, lowed her into a small, neatly-arranged apar ment, and became seated. "I have called at the police-stations, and visited the sections where the fever is raging; I regret to say that my inquiries excited but little attention. As you have observed, made emoiselle,' all are lost in the thought of them. selves. But you must: not despair. I yet hope to be the bearer of better news. Let me entreat of you to curb these emotions, whichl are wearing away flbur strength. Mad. emoiselle, you cannot hide your distress." "I cannot live, sir, without Doctor Paul 1" She stopped suddenly and recoiled from Raymond. "Your garments are soiled with earth," she added. H' Have you sought him among the dead?" , Thie young man looked at himself, and saw blotches of clay upon his clothes. i Perhaps," she continued," you have buried him, and conceal it from me." She advanced a step, and regarded him imploringly. Her face was saintly in its pale beauty. "It will be impossible to deceive you, mad. emoiselle," said Raymond, with reverenceo, ".,Happy brother!" he murmured, scarcelj knowing what he said. , Why happy, monsieur?" she asked. "In being. beloved by you, mademoiselle." "Yott should have said ' Hap py sistor, to be beloved by Paul!' Ah monsieur, that fresh earth on your person makes me shiver It seems to me that you come to me from th( dead." "It is true; but not your dead, mademoir selle. I, too, am sufferitg; I, too, am walk. ing beneath the shadow of a bewildering myrs tery. I am full of darkness - I am ful ol douht." Mademoiselle Merigny now looked at lim attentively ; there was something in the ex- pression of his haggard face that invited con. fidence. "While I have complained of the selfish- ness of others, I, too, have been selfish Your countenance, monsieur, tells me that you have come here staggering under thN effects of some unexpected trial of youi strength.'. , Your intuitions have not misled you. I have induede passed an ordeal, the short his tory of which is not for cars like thine." He shuddered. and his countenance assure- ed a deeper pallor, while his head sank upon the high backl of his chair. Every object i the room went swimming before his eyes., The form of mademoiselle, only, separated it- pelf from the dizzy clhaos. "You are ill you are faint!" 'She hastened to pour a glass of water, which lie received with an unsteady hand. The bell rang gently wrlile the goblet was at bis lips. It was not a peremptory and ur- gent summons, but timiland hesitating. 4 Thanks!" said Raymond, returning the glass. "Do not think of me. I am very well." I '& You are frightfully pale, monsieur. Per- haps it is the plague!" [ It is exhaustion, only. See! I am strong again." He arose, smilinfig. [ "I will answer that summons, if it be your pleasure." Mademoiselle Merigny bowed assent, but looked doubtingly at Raymond, who stepped into a hall where a lamp was burning, and opened the street door. A momentary silence ensued. "Doctor Merigny " "Not at home," replied Raymond. I'llwait for him," added the inquirer, and without ceremony passed the threshold into the hall. The young man closed the door, and' per- ceived before him a person in overalls and I blouse, with a paper cap on his head. His coarse garments were plentifully besprinkled with mortar, and burned yellow in various places with lime. "A bricklayer," thought Raymond, as the man turned and confronted him, as he imag- uied, with some surprise. - "It is scarcely worth while to wait," said i Raymond. * ! I must see the' doctor." "I cannot tell you when he will come." ] '"I said 1 would wait, monsieur." ] There was a trifle of impatience in the tones of the bricklayer. "My good man, Mademoiselle Merigny, his ister, fears that he may not return to- ight.", "Andyou,"-began the bricklayer, hurried- , and immediately stopping with manifest Iinbarrassment. Are you a doctor?" i "Unfortunately, no. I am simply what t ion-see me. For your sake, if you are in i eed, I heartily wish I had the skill of Doc- or Merigny." The bricklayer's eyes rested on the diamond i rowel. "I thank you, monsieur," he. answered- : 1 more humble tone, touching his cap. "You ook like one who would willingly spread the ] [ement of brotherly love. Ah, sir! the fever hakes no distinction between the bricklayer ed the gentleman. Would you be so good ] F S 'as to give me a word with Mademoiselle Me- rigny?" "My worthy friend, she is not in a state of mind to see strangers. Excuse her, and seek aid elsewhere." Raymond opened the door, glanced out into the darkness, and then at the man; his mean- ing was apparent. "What lhas happened that mademoiselle i in grief?" asked he of the blouse. "Her brother has disappeared. J have sought, him vainly. Her anxiety is on his account. There-you know all. Qood-night." "I will not leave the house; till I have seen her. Mademoiselle Merigny - mademoi- selle." The bricklayer turned fi'om the young man, and walked quickly into the doctor's office. Mademoiselle was already there. She beard I is voice, and ranitoward him with outstretch- ' ed hands, crying: "Paul I Paul!" She stopped suddenly when she saw a man in overalls, blouse, and paper cap. He made a hurried, deprecating gesture. Raymond, who had followed him, eyed him suspicious- ly. He remained silent, waiting to see what would next happen. "' Speak ngam. Who are you?" exclaimed the girl, trembling with excitement, her chest , heaving, her eyes glowing. ," One that you know not," answered the blouse, briefly. "You cannot deceive me. You are alive -you are well! I see-hear you!" Faint with joy, she sprang forward, and the man in the blouse caught her in his arms. "Ah, Edna! could you not practice decep- tion one .moment? We are not alone, and I have much to say to you." "O Paul! Paul, what miserable hours you have made me! But you are here, and I am happy." "My Edna!" said the doctor, soothingly. What gentleman is tlis, dear?" "This is monsieur-monsieur--" "r Raymond," added the young man, com- ing to her relief. "Yes, Monsieur Raymond," she repeated, who has been kind enough to search for you in various parts of the city. Whatever mo- tives you can have for this disguise, I an, sure you have nothing to fear from him." "This is unfortunate. I intended that no eyes but yours should behold me. I have the most imp-rative reasons for secrecy." Doctor Paul looked again at the golden trowel. "Sister, will you leave me with Monsiew Raymond?" Edna left the room, saying; "( Do not keep me long away from you. raul." page: 38-39[View Page 38-39] The doctor closed the doors carefully, and bolted thef,. "Give me your hand, Monsieur Raymond," he said. The young man extended it. The doctor took it in his. nressed it, and said: "The paw of the lion is strong!" "It is strong!" repeated Raymond. They interlocked their hands in a peculiar manner. They bent toward each other, as if to embrace. Something was whispered, but in a breath so low that it died within the cir- cumference of the ear. "By the mallet and the chisel!" "By the square and the compass!" "Swear to me!" "By what shall I swear?" "By, the three great lights of our mystic brotherhood!" "To any oath that an honorable man may bind himself, I cheerfully submit, if thereby I can serve a brother who stands within the sacred circle of our immemorial order," Ian- swered Raymond, earnestly. . "You swear, by the three great lights of r our inviolable brotherhood, that you will re- r veal to no one, without my free consent, that I you have seen me to-night, or have any 1 knowledge of my existence, whatever inquir- y ies may be made, or whatever may result from the concealment of the fact of my being X alive?" "Stop one moment " " * What would you have?" "Take off that cap, and let me see your e face.'" - Doctor Paul threw off the bricklayer's cap, t revealing a forehead broad, clear, and crown- 1I ed with clustering black hair. His dark eyes were calm and steady, beaming, Raymond thought, with a noble purpose. "You are Doctor Paul Merigny?" I am." "Your countenance is like hers-I am con- i tent. I solemnly pledge myself to that which ti you have asked. You are dead to megtill w your word unseals my lips and my eyes." y "Neither by word, look, inuendo, gesture, re nor insinuation will you endanger my secret?" " By neither of these," answered Raymond, a with empressement. h ," Monsieur, you greatly oblige me. I shall always think of you with gratitude. Believe me, it is no common motive that induces me no to ask so extraordinary a thing of a stranger. ar I trust the time will come when this obliga- tion may be removed without detriment to yo any one." There was a gentle tap at the door. If "Have you not been long enough with we Monsieur Raymond?" asked Edna. "Let me in, Doctor Paul-let me in " tol nd "Yes, Edna," said thh doctor, tenderly, admitting .her. Raymond could not help envying Paul Merigny. NPeling that he was no longer needed, he arose to go. nd "Monsieur- Raymond, you will not have the heart to take Doctor Paul away?" said Edna, appealing to him. " No, mademoiselle; the case is terminnat ar ed, and his skill no longer required. I con- if gratulate you on his safety," answered the ut young man, with a sidelong glance at the doc- r- tor. "My Paul," added Edna, thoughtfully, " in my happiness at your return, I had forgotten that this gentleman's heart is oppressed with sorrow. He has suffered, blit lie does not complain. Look at im! Observe how pale ic he is. See how bravely he struggles with some great trial, which he nobly keeps to y himself." y Doctor Merigny now turned his practical e eyes critically upon Raymond. "My friend," he said, " go home and go to sleep. Both your mental and physical need, ,f rest. Your energies have recently been too - much taxed. I know the meaning of that t pale line around the mouth, that unsteady y turning of the eyes, and the slight tremor of - your hands." "t ' You are right. My nerves are overstrain- , ed. It has been many hours since I have slept. I trust we may meet again. Good- night, mademoiselle." He threw a look at Edna, respectful and - earnest-a look that made her tremble. He bowed low, and the doctor attended him. to the door. The graceful thanks of both fol- lowed him to the street. CHAPTER XII. BROTHER -AND SISTER. "Doctor Paul, we are alone. Tell me what has happened, and the meaning of this dis- guise. I am sure something singular has transpired. My instincts assure me that our whole lives are. about to be changed. I read you very well. I know when the deeper cur- rents of your nature are stirred." "You are not deceived in your feelings," answered Merigny, taking the white, willing hand of his sister. "I have the strangest ale to tell yoft!"e "I knew it!" murmured Edna. "But if no one comes between us, I care not, so. you are safe!" "It is by the mercy of God that I am with" you. But listen, and you shall hear all. Lock the doors, and close that shutter, dear. If any one rings, let him ring on; when weary, he will go his way." Doctor Paul begah at the beginning, and told his story with remarkable minuteness and fidelity. Edna did not withdraw 'her eyes from him during his narration. "This is wonderful!" she said, when he had finished. "Your life has been attempt- ed, and you are considered dead!" "Yes." "And you saved her? Catholina! It is a pretty name. But I shall hate her!" "Edna!" "Do not frown, Doctor Paul. Why should I not hate her who robs me of you? You have betrayed me, Judas! You said she was fair?" "I know of but one who bears any compar- ison to Catholina." "Then love that one I She will be to you more than sweetheart or wife. Paul, I have never seen a woman worthy of you. I wish this Catholina had slept on and never awak- ened!I You were too, too faithful. 'You must never see her again!" "Be just, Edna. You are the soul of truth and loyalty." She contemplated her brother fondly, and with pride. Though inwardly disturbed, she was outwardly calm and majestic. Even her doting love for Paul seemed like angelic con-, descension, she was such a perfection of love- ly womanhood. "Then be content with me, Doctor Paul," she replied: "You are my idol-my, sister!" "You will soon break your idol!" "You will soon love this fair creature, Ed- na." "Never! never!" She compressed her lips, and looked defi- antly at her brother. "I am her enemy, already!" "You disappoint me," answered Merigny, sorrowfully. "I had hoped for your co-op- eration-at least, for your sympathy. As you have said, our lives are to change. Henceforth, there is to be no Doctor Paul Merigny in New Orleans." "' Judas, look at me!" cried 'Edna, contract- ing her brows. "Why do you not denounce these wretches, and give them up to justice? That is the shortest road to travel." The doctor averted his eyes till they rested on Edna's feet. "I will tell you why, traitor! You love this Catholina, and would not for the world surrender the sweet privilege of taking care of her. The mystery of all this pleases you. At heart, too, you lare revengeful, and wish to bring upon the perpetrators of this unnat- ural villainy a slow, sure, and crushing pun- ishment." "You refuse to go with me, darling?" Paul looked at Edna imploringly. 1 "You mistake me, brother; I will go e with you'; I 'will be your blind instrument I reserving only to myself the privilege of hating her who comes to rival me in your affections." "Good sister I good sister! I am sure of you. Hate Catholina, you cannot. After seeing her, one could hate an angel as soon." "Paul, Paul, I have told you what will happen!" she cried, warningly. "Whatever grows out of this, remember that I have spok- en to you frankly. To give up your future, to die to the world, to sacrifice so much, and all for a pretty child 1" Edna walked the room impatiently, and with the dignity of a wronged princess. "My sweet tyrant, you take matters too seriously. As you say, Catholina is. but a child, and you would despise me had I done less for her," said Merigny, deprecatingiy. "Your conduct has been noble, so far. Stop where you are. But you will not do that; you will go on, and I shall have the second place in your thoughts. Do not be troubled about my acquiescence in your plans. I shall yield to you-I shall be your slave. Where are we to go? What do you expect of me?" lBoth resentment and affection beamed from her eyes. "1 shall intrust Caiholina to your care. Yes, you will guard this treasure." "That is foolhardy, indeed! Dare you give me your doll to dress, and undress, and rock to sleep?, You would make me do something wicked!". She looked reproachfully at the doctor; there was the commanding power of a sul- tana in her eyes. "Adored sister," exclaimed Paul, arising and kissing her white forehead, " you can- not be wicked ; it is impossible." "One does not know her strength till she is tried. Do not tempt me too much, Paul; I am terribly human. This house is to be shut up; I see it in your face. We are to live nowhere, with no names, and the fame of Merigny is to go out like a candle. Next comes a chapter of romance, intrigue, mys- tery, crime. But give me your hand, brother -I walk this new pathway with you." She smiled and stretched out her hand. Paul pressed it to his lips and called her pet names. They were never more devoted to' each other. CHAPTER XIII. MORE MYSTERY. Raymond wended his way to the corner where he had first found Jude Schwartz, who had not yet returned from his nocturnal task. The young man waited till -he came, when he proceeded to make minute inquiries re- specting carrier number one, from whom he bad taken the box. page: 40-41 (Illustration) [View Page 40-41 (Illustration) ] "There were two of them," replied Jude. ' "They' drove a high- boned, low- spirited horse, which crept over the ground like a hazy snal" "There were two men in the cart. Very well; describe them." "I hadn't much time to be particular about their looks. The one that helped me move the box, however, wore a blouse and overalls. I should say, monsieur, that he looked more like a bricklayer than a carrier orgrave dig- ger. The fellow that was drivin' was taller and slimmer, and said nothin'." "Should you know either, should you meet them again?" "Can't say," answered Jude, dubiously. "It was some'at dark. I might, and I mightn't. Think I should know the horse and cart." "It is necessary that you should find these men. Seek themta everywhere; leave X no part of the city unsearched." "Monsieur forgets my business." "It's a dreadful business," said Raymond. "Somebody must'do it, your honor." "True; but you are to look for the per- sons from whom you took the box. 'Your melancholy trade should bring yo, in con- t-tet with them before twenty-four hours. You a;hall suffer no loss. If successful, your roward shil be above your expectations." "I'm as stupid as a block; but I should like to know what all this is for?" relied Jade, for the first time manifesting curiosity. "There was an inexplicable mistake /about the body, as you know. That casket should h ive contained a young girl, whereas it con taimed the loathsome object you saw." "So you have already told me, monsieur; but I never asked what my fare was to be. Mayhlup she was a relation or a sweetheart of yours?" Scehwartz looked at him sharply. "No matter what she was! I wish to know what has become of her bod, and -you are to aid me; for which service I am to pay )you generously " Perhaps, your honor," suggested Jude, "the whole thing was a cheat, and the young woman didn't die at all." "A stupid thought," sai4 Raymond. "There was some hocus-pocus, I'll war- rant," added Jude, sturdily. "They was wicked-lookin' ones that I see, as I stood on the steps." "How many did you see?" asked Ray- mond, with interest. "Two -one a stern-faced, gloomy gentle- man, while the other was the same who or- dered me to go there. Both 'peared sur- prised because number one had stole a march on me. They doubted whether it was all right." X aJ..J2J 1. LrJCI WY XAlb. "The mystery increases!" muttered Ray. mond. "They's in a mighty hurrf to git her out- o' the house." "It was unnatural!" exclaimed Raymond. "I see him! I see him!" cried Schwartz, suddenly darting away, and running down a dark street with all his speed. Raymond fol. lowed him; and. by straining every muscle, got near enough to see that hle was pursuing a man in a blouse. Not doubting but it was the carrier he desired so much to find, he joined zealously in the race, plunging to the right and left, around angles and corners, through unlighted lanes and alleys, with a swiftness that was quite astonishing. Once or twice he was near enougli to the fugitive to hear him paint; but presently lost sight of him, and reluctantly abandoned the chase. Vexed and disappointed, he turned his face toward home. Arrived there, he had the good fortune to make his' way in without alarming the inmates of the house. It was nearly daylight. In the reception-room he found a wax taper, which he lighted, and stopped to rest a moment before aseending to his chlamber. As it happened, he took a seat'by an escritoire, a drawer of which was- open. A package of papers met his eyes, which he mechanically raised and looked at. A paper slipped. out The characters upon it were recently traced; it was the certificate of Catholina's- death, given by Dr. Paul Me- rigny! Raymond perused I he writing in! silent won- der; he held it in his hand; his-gaze was fastened upon it as if by a spell. I was some time before he could flily comprehend tho import of what was before him. \ The first fact that forced itself upon him was, that his cousin had been attended by Dr. Merigny, the mal he had so recently left-the brother of Mademoiselle Edna. The next was, ithat the time of the doctor's midnight call, which had been mysteriously protracted twenty-four hours, corresponded to what had been repre- sented as the closing period of Catholina's life. Here were two distinct circumstances, which were not without meaning. Again, the simple truth, that the deceased had been at- tended by Doctor Merigny, had been evaded or suppressed by his mother. He recalled her words: A We sent for our family plhysi- cian, but a stranger came." This was perplexing. What need of eva- sin? But grief had doubtless distracted Madame De Villanville. She could think only of her loss, the details of the catastro- ph,1' having slipped away in her heavv woe. What need of this eertifiaete? Why should any one doubt Catholina's-death, if affirmed by the inmates of the house! Something whispered to the consciousness of the young page: 42-43[View Page 42-43] tan "Catholina was an heiress. You wilt be very rich." He tlrust the paper into the drawer, as if its touch burned his fingers, Hie liked it not, nor could he tell why. Why should a soul, plunged in Borrow, think of such a formality? He was miserably nervous and uncomfortable. The first faint light of morning fell upon the floor. He extinguished the taper and went softly to bed. CHAPTER XIV. THE MAN IN THE WALL. It is time that we returned to the man in the wall. It will be remembered that before Jean Louis had finished his compulsory la- bor, this unfortunate victim of human malice began to rcover from the effects of some nar- cotic, which had in some manner been ad- ministered to render him oblivious and pas- sive while hle was being immured. H s emo- tions, as he slowly flowed back to conscious- ness, and saw the wall gradually growing be- ncath the hands of Jean Louis, were of a na- ture too terrible to be sketched by the pen. He did not, at first, feel the full force of the astounding truf h, but as lie grew more lucid, it struck him with a power lis nervous sys- tem was scarcely able to withstand. lIe, was inclined to doubt whether human cruelty could go so far. Ought he not rath- er to. suppose that he was the subject of a frIghtful hallucination? Were these real walls, this a chain of veritable iron upon his ankle, and that pale apparition at work with the mortar, indeed a man? Who of his ene- mies-couldl wish him such a fate? Clinl! clink! clink! ThIt was the sound of a trowel. He moved t his limbs, and hischain rattled in the staple. n That metallic sound did much to urge home 1 the awful conviction of his situation. Just then, something reached his ears that startled him still more; it was the voice of i De Villanville, stealing coldly, remorselessly v into his grave. Those tones, though they i nearly stunned him at first, cleared his per- r beptions and his memory in a moment. A t vail of hypocrisy was suddenly removed from a his eyes. ie grasped the motive-he knew S why he was to die, and how hopeless would t be an appeal to one who had deliberately de- l termined upon such an act. A hundred incidents, before unnoticed, were s recalled with lightning-like rapidity, all point- n ing with fatal accuracy toward the single con- 8 elusion. I He began to study the face of the brick- i layer; lie concentrated upon him all the g power of his will, worked up and rendered in- tense, as it was, by horror and indignation. s Hle caught Jean Louis' eyes -he held them M fast -if they quivered and fell, they came o r !t back again. H--e saw his hands tremble, and e knew that his4pndition appealed to his pity. , The chain of syapathy was established. Jean y Louis could not help seeing and compassion- f ating him. A fluctuating, sickly hope sprang v up in the man's breast. He thought of a test, yet feared to try it, lest utter despair I should be too much for him, and lhe became I too abject and contemptible in his terror in the eight of his assassins, whose measured steps he could hear falling echoless on the stone floor. He would make the sign of the mystic l brotherhood --the unignorable sign of dis, tress-the solemnly significant sign that nev- er failed within the charmed circle of the all- powerful and far-reaching fraternity. Per- haps that shaking hand, that so reluctantly spread the mortar, had been initiated into the sublime secrets that have pass(,d down through the generations since the days of Solomon, linking the dead and the living, the past and the future, in one unbroken chain of human fellowship. He wrenched his hands from his bonds, and raised them, bruised and bleed- ing; he signed the sign, and, withl thrilling emotions of joy, saw the trowel of the brick- layer make a mystic writing in the air. He tore the gag from his mouth; and death lost half its terrors inhthe knowledge that his fate was, and would be known. lHe now noted every motion of the bricklayer. He watched the descent of every trowelful. of mortar which he accidentally, apparently, let fall. While he was laying the last course, the man behind the wall had examined the lump of clay, and taken from it a stout pocket-knife. His eyes were ready to overflow witlh grati- tude; for this little instrument might prove an inestimable treasure-it might be like the teeth of the mouse that severed the meshes which held the lion. The light was being shut out, the wall rap. idly closing upon him. three bricks more would complete his tomb. Two-one, and while they were being placed, he eould not repress that shriek of despair which was des- tined to haunt forever the ears of Jean Louis and De Villanville. He heard the latter in- specting the wall, and striking upon it with the trowel; then retreating footsteps, and he was alone in his grave I Philip de Noyan-the entombed-had a stout heart. He resolved not to die without an effort for life. He had more than one strong motive for escape besides the natural love of existence. He desired to protect the innocent and defenseless, and bring unmiti- gated villainy to its just punishment. With the blade of the knife he pricked small holes through the yet soft mortar. He was sure he was successful, Iby the little jets of air that he could feel upon his hand. He page: 44-45[View Page 44-45] ncext attacked the fetter upon his ankle,lwhich resisted his endeavors till he was bathed in perspiration; for eight feet square is close ' quarters, and the lungs denmand much fuel. 1 -e sawed in twain the iron, and stood up un- shackld, ready to attack the wall. With the trusty knife in his grasp, and the tiny streams of air breathing upon his face, which he pressed to the cool bricks, he felt like a giant ! -uneonquerably strong to overcome the difficulties that stood between him and free- v dom. "Inhuman monster of cruelty!" he ex' claimed. "God has' not forgotten me; thle Land of Providence is here in the thick dark- leaSs." ,4 Like one inspired, he assaulted the stone ma- sonry opposite the new brick wall. He picked out the dry mortar with his knife, and, by one hour's toil, loosened a large stone, which he drew out with his half-flayed fingers. To re- move other stones was comparatively easy; and he heaped them in one corner of his sepulchre. He reached the softer earth, which he loosened with continual stabbing, dragging it away with his hands. Finally, be thrust his arm through into an open space, and, was nearly suffocted by a terrible odor that rushed upon him. He retreated, and in- haled new life from one of the little air-holes he had made. Fortified anew, he returne I to his laDbar, and discovered he had penetrated a drain in a place where the bricks and cement had fallen away. Listening an instant, he heard the roar of the Mississippi-a sound that was perfect melody to his sense-. The conclusion was obvious- the drain had its outlet in the river. De Noyan enlarged the opening, and soon stood in the drain, to his knees, ln the yield- ing filth. He had taken but a few steps be- fore he became aware that the conduit had other inhabitants. Scores of rats, disturbed by his presence, started into life-and activity As he advanced, the disturbance increased. At first, they fled; but now they turned, and leaped, hungry and venomous, upon his bowed shoulders, his head, his face, his arms. They crawled up his limbs, and attacked'him with the fury of pigmy imps. It was in vain that he shook them off-that he plucked them away with his hands, and dashed them down, or, transfixed them with his knife. Resistance ma le them more fierce, rwh ile the scent of blood, mocking their starva- tion, maddened them. De Noyan was overwhelmed with unspeak- able horror. He shrieked, hle shoutel, he fought, he pressed forward like a maniac, but l "iuld not eseape his thronging, fr Intic, agile enemies, whose teeth had pierced him in a 1 hundred places. He had Ceard of persons s being devoured alive by an at'my of famished c :. aX LA a a. aN J." A. W M * a i rats, and believed such would be his misera- ble fate. At one moment, his courage falter- r ed, and he was dispose/ to smother himself in the filth, to escape thevdevilish crew that assailed him; but at the next, with desperate resolution, groped on, crushing his spiteful adversaries against the low, Cylindrical walls, and beating them firom his face and neck with his smarting hands. He fell, arose, battled on. A feeble light cheered him. His senses reeled He felt a breath of fresh air, heard a rush of waters, and, with a scream of pain and madness, east himself head foremost into the Miississippi, which swept him away like a feather. CHAPTER XV. ' THE VAULTS. Raymond slept five hours. He joined the family below, refreshed in body, but uncom- fortable in mind. His mother remarked his haggard looks. "You must try and shake off this gloomi- nes, my son," said madame, tenderly. "You are certainly greatly changed since you visit. ed us before, You are growing too old and thoughtful." "We all change; none of us for the worse, I hope," he answered, with an effort at cheer- fwlness. "It is love, perhaps," added madame, play- fully. ' "I never but once thought I loved," re- plied Raymond, composedly. , "Who was the favored creature?" - "Catholina," returned her son, observing his mother without appearing to do so. He glanced, too, at his father, who was reading a paper. "Catholina!I exclaimed madame, quite as- tonished. The paper fell from De Villanville's hand. "I was not aware that you had seen her since she was a child," stammered madame. "; You know she received her education at a Northern school. I met her at Philadel- phia, little more than a year ago." The young man made this announcement with perfect calmness. Why did you conceal the fact from us?" asked madame, turning pale. "It was not ingenuous, mother; but we thought to surprise you, sometime, with the,' secret and the friendship that grew out of it. I exacted a promise from Catholina to that effect." "And her father?" Madame faltered in her speech, casting warning glances at her husband. He was with her. He was about leaving for the South. I was obliged to return tomy studies, but not till I had learned to love my cousin-the peerless, the faultless, the fair. I dlid not heam from Uncle Philip again till your letter informed ine of his decease. Mothler, I cannot,'make her seem dead!" aynmond's voice was now thick with emo- tion. Madame De Villanville sank into a chair, deprived of strength and volition. what she had heard, appeared to fall upon her with an- nihilating power. Monsieur groaned aloud. "Fatal secret!" murmured his nmother. "Think not of it," said Raymond, quickly, alarmed at the effect he had produced. "For- give my unfilial thoughtlessness. Tlhat which is past, is past forever, and cannot be re- called." ' "We had not thought of Caftholina in that connection," said De Villanville, with a slight frown. "We have different views for you, my son." "Give me some wine, Raymond," gasped madame. Raymond went to a sideboard, but there was no wine there. His father pointed to the bell. "No!" said the young map. "The serv- ants are tardy. I will run to the cellar my- self. I can put my hand on your choicest brands, I believe, in, the dark. I have for- go ten nothing about the house, above or be- lpw." "I'll-I'll go!" returned his father, aris- ing as if alarmed. * Raymond was already out of the room. "You used to be strong," said madame, with Blitterness, '"but now you are weak as a child." . "You do well to taunt me! It is the sound If that accursed trowel that has unnerved me. Yes, you say truly; I used to bo strong; I had nerves 'like iron rods, but t th clinking, and the ctlatt ering, and the scraping, have eat- en them away like rust." He took two rapid turns across the floor. "Poor boy! poor boy! We have struck at him unwittingly." "We might harve married them," said mad- ame, half-aiffirmatively, half-interrogatively. "Yes," said De Villanville, stopping, " but we can do better. He must have wealth ; our son Raymond must have wealth. He must be able to scatter gold with both hands to the gaping crowd. We have begun--we must pass on; there is now no such thing. as re- treat. He must marry the daughter of'Ro- sendale the banker, whose boards are count- less." "But the old objection remains; he is a Jew, Philip!" But a prince among his people. Our son : Raymond must see Francisca, the Jewess. She is said to be a marvel of beauty." , d Will not the difference of faith raise an i obstacle " it If there should chance to be love in tho case, no. Rosendale idolizes his daughter, and lie also idolizes gold. He knows that the alliance with my son would be a good one in a worldly point of view. We must arrange it, Leonora; we must arrange'it." "Still, I should like him better if he were not a Jew," mused madame. By this time De Yillanville had partially recovered his equanimity. The thought of bringing millionsinto the family, acted upon him wondrously. - "I shall forward your wishes," added his wife, presently. "It is, as you say, a great thing to have wealth to one's children. Rlich- es sometimes weigh heavily against rank. Besides, Rosendale is a prince among his peo- ple, and that is much. Philip, be of good cheer. Dispel the phantoms of your brain, and you shall find in me a faithful ally." * Leonora," answered De Villanville, sum- moning a measure of his wont d firmness, " it is a compact. But crime," he added, " is a fearful companion; it is ever flitting like a ghost at one's side. Ah! if I could but stop that clinking, and hammering, and craping 1" "Hush, Philip! Our son is returning." Raymond entered with a bottle of wine. The spiders had woven wels over it; it had the rare marks of age. He drew the cork and poured a'glass for madame. "Do not spill it," he said, pleasantly. "\They say it is a bad sign to spill wine." She took it with a smile, and was raising it to her lips, when Raymond remarked: "There is a frightful stenchIn the vaults; they need ventilation." The glass shook in madame's hand, and she spilled a few drops of the red fluid. "The draint the drain al" exclaimed De Villanville. "Before I went away to college, you were very particular, father, about the wine vaults." "They must be looked to," interposed his mother. "This epidemic has drawn your father's attention in other directions." Raymond turned another glass and offered it to monsieur, who at first hesitated, then ac. cepted it with too much haste. It, seemed to proceed," continued Rayp mond, " from a new portion of the wall." "From a new portion of the wall," repeat. ed De Villanville, drinking. "Some recent repairs, I suppose?" ' "Yes," responded monsieur," some recent repairs. The old wall was insufficient, and there was an offensive ooze from the dtrain." "Now I remember there was a niche there. I'll wager, my dear father, that you've been walling up some choice brands of wine, to be opened some years hence, on Some happy of memorable day." "You deceive yourself," returned De Vil. page: 46-47[View Page 46-47] lanville, with a sickly smile. ' I but guarded against the encroachments of the drain." "Leave it to me; I will have it torn down, and a competent bricklayer shall be employ- ed^," added Raymond. "A bricklayer 1" said monsieur, looking at madame, and laughing unnaturally. "Without ^doubtf' resumed Raymond. Nobody but a bricklayer can do the busi- ness. Bad airis the father of contagion. It is frightfully unsafe to- have such an enemy imprisoned beneath us. It is said there is a skeleton in every house, and ours is in the vaults." , . "True,.my son," answered his father, re- covering himself with wonderful self-control. "You talk like Hypocrates himself. Please fill my glass again, and another for yourself. What a flavor, to this vintage I I like to have it salute my nostrils before it reaches my lips. I will give orders to Pierre about the drain." "I love not the fellow! That face of his should belong to a rascal.: I have the gift of diseerning scoundrels, I believe," "A rare gift," said his father, with a sudden effusion of face. "It puts one on his guard," answered Ray- mond,-laughing. "Young men are apt to trust to their fancies. Pierre has been very faithful."' I pledge you my wioedAhtlt he is a vil- lain I1 "No matter if he is" interrupted madame. There are two who love you." "There might have been three!" said the i young man, gravely. Ve are insufferably dismal!" exclaimed 1 De Villanville. . At that moment the ce of Pierre Lereau appeared at the door. "'Pierre,"l added Mnsie ,1 ,"tell Joseph to a put the horses to the carriage. Raymond, , we will call on Rosendale, the banker. I wish y you to make his acquaintance." Madame regarded her husband with an t expression of gratitude and relief. He was like his former self, and she rejoiced. His morbid fancies were passjing away. * --" 1 CHAPTER XVI. -w OATHOLI9XA.-THE BIICKLAYER'8 SECRET. w Catholina soon sank into a sleep, which held her in its soft bondage till three o'clock in m the morning. When she awoke, Sutzanne was watching beside her. She was free from pain and her mind clear. She inquired for Doutor Ps Merigny. Suzat ne opened the door and in- be formed the doctor that his patient was awake He had just come in, and entered her room ri in considerable perturlbation. Catholina ob- served his dis0order--his flushed face, his hur- ried respiration. . .e led - "What has happened?" she asked, anxious. vn, "I have been out, and I have been pursued. Iy- Two persons gave me a frightful ruf; happi- ly I evaded them." p at di Yop, too, have enemies," said Catholina. "If one like youhas them, who may expect Ad. to escape?I How do you feel, mademoiselle?" ; A"I e cannot tell you. I am calm-I know It that I exist. It has been very terrible, mon- ny sieur! Sit by -me, and tell me all that has a happened since the moment I trusted in you, de and put the strange drug to my lips." She spoke with singular composure and e- sweetness. . 1. "I fear it will shock you." "e "Be not apprehensive. A danger past is f. not like a danger to come. Remember that e I survived the shock of that overwhelming announcement that I was dying by poison. What new sensation is left for me after that?" is Doctor Paul could not resist this appeal. 3f Seated by her bedside, with his eyes fixed steadfasty upon her/,he related all that had n happenedin any manner relating to her suP- posed decease and interment. She listen - with shuddering enrnestness. Every word was sensed, every detail weighed. r "Your life attempted!" she said.' "You were the victor. Heaven be praised! It was - intended thatyou should never r ach lhome. The lohg and circuitous ride, the needless windings and turnings, the imperativeness with which your services were do mmnded, all e show a settled purpose from the beginning." "True, mademoiselle. The more I reflect i upon the subject, the deeper are my convic- tions that I was to be sacrificed. it Was pre- t determined that I should not go back to Dauphine street. I am supposed to be dead and lost in the rushing waters of the great river. But I am here-iere to save and serve y ou- to identify my happ inessand my fortune with yours; that is, mademoiselle, if you yet trust in me." 1 It is too, great a sacrifice!" said Catholi- na, with a start and a blush. " Nay mademoiselle, it is not enough. They believe me dead, and to them and the world, I am, and will be, dead." "I will not permnit. it," answered Catholina, with a determined wave of her white hand "I osjure you by the life I have saved; mademoiselle!" "To what purpose?" Her heavenly eyes were fixed upon Doctor Paul. Her countenance was glorious in its beauty. You no longer believe in met" said Me- rigny, gently. "More than ever." "Then you will let me have my own way, mademoiselle P' "It does not become me to dictate to you. monsieur, but my gratitude impels-me to seek your good. My own feeble life you may dis- pose of as you will. It is yours; you have won it from the grave. If'you make me a servant in yourhlousehold, I will not murmur. But why should you die so young, and forego 'fam e" 2, I I'. ::-- - .-:, I' ' "To, cast a sacred shield -of protection around you, and subserve the wise designs of Providence in bringing guilt to its fitting re- ward," returned the doctor, with warmth. "Catholina, will you trust yourself with Doe- tor Paul yet once more?"H "If it will make you happier; not other- wise. I, too, am dead where I ought to be alive and loved. But you have been to me as Providence, and I dare not say this shall be and the other shall not. You would iso-' late yourself and me I Is it not so?" "It is, mademoiselle." Catholina blushed andS was silent. The lily whiteness of her cheeks soon came back. ' I have ceased to doubt,"-he said. "I thank you! Be assured I am doing you no favor. It is you who oblige me. I shall not leave the city. I have already selected a place for retirement, where we will bide our time and, unseen, see the drama go on. Cath. olieia, you tremble 1" . "Forgive me. I thought I had conquered. I But this is the last struggle; you sha1ll not i see me tremble again." . I "Noble Catholina! you are unselfish ; you I are brave. How admirably you bear your i misfortunes. How generous is your confl- x dence. I. hasten to relieve your timidity. - I I have a sister-aa incomparable creature, in whom you will find fitting companionship." n *,Do not think me so ungeenerous," said e Catholina ingenuously, giving Doctor Paul t her hand. "In future, do not consult me; tell me your wishes-that will be sufficient," a Doctor Paul was for a moment bewildered g by this graceful and beautiful girl. He was m a thousand times repaid for What he had done. t: One grateful glance-of those soft eyes, reward- V ed his efforts and his danger. He left her with c a flame in his heart that nothing but death 1 could extinguish. - ' O Before responding to the call of Catholina, h Merigny had sent Jean Louis to the Jew quar- n ter of the city to an old :clothes dealer, to pro- b cure a suitable disguise, believing himself no' B longer safe in the3 bricklayer's blouse. Jean S went rather reluctantly on this errand, for he b] regarded the pursuit of the doctor by two pi unknown persons in a different light from su the subject of the chase. He 'was ready to believe that Merigny had been mistaken for p another, ank 'se himself was that other. It sn is true that he had guarded the secret of the ti man in t wall faithfully; but the' active bl W 8 . N / V u' agents in that wicked transaction were proba- bk bly afraid to trust him longer, and had de- s. termined upon his destruction. e The 'meditations of the bricklayer, as he a left the 01d- Barrack behind, and threaded r. dirty and unfrequented streets, were [most o unpleasant. He, had never before, onl any occasion in his nocturnal walks, felt such a n burden of apprehension. Had it not been of for an earnest desire to serve his new firield e- Merigny, he would have turned back and re- i. traced his way with-hurried feet. - The deeper darkness that precedes the dawn hung over the city. The streets were - deserted. He heard no sounds save, now and e then, the distant rumbling of a cart; a sign e of life so dissonant that he had rather have I listened to the quickened throbs of his own heart. Was that a footstep? Was some person walking behhd him? His fears suggested , these queries every moment, but as often as he paused, he found that his imagination had deceived him. He reached a, corner where l two streets formed an acute angle and was in doubt which to-take. A person in doubt al. ways stops to decide. It would have been better for Jean Louis had he gone forward at a venture; for while he stood looking into the dark, narrow vortex of the streets, he felt himself struck in the side with a sharp instru- ment. The sudden -pain of the thrust made the bricklayer break away from the assassin before the blow could be repeated. Jean ran, and as he ran he drew a pistol from his pock- et, which, of late, he seldom ventured from home without. Hearing his unseen assailant at his heels, he partially turned, fired at haz. ard, and continued his flight. He heard neith- er cl-r nor fall, nor any pursuing footsteps af- ter that. It was not long before the bricklayer stood at his own door. He entered his cottage greatly agitated; his garments were smeared with blood. He threw the empty pistol on the floor, and sank Ipanting into a chair. With one wild look at her husband, Suzanne east herself into his arms. Mcrigny was just leaving Catholina's room, and was in the act of closing the door. Although hle was in the habit of seeing all sorts of casualties, he was much startled at the sudden entry of the bricklayer and tho agonized cries of his wife. He hastened to separate them, and found poor Suzanne more bestained and besmeared with blood than the wounded man himself. She presented a dismal spectacle when the doctor succeeded in disengaging her. "Come I come!" said Merigny. Com- pose yourself, Madame touis. Would you smother your husband? Is it not more ra- tional to examine his wound and stop the bleeding?" . page: 48-49[View Page 48-49] "It i, replied Suzanne, instantly struck with the common sense of the suggestion, and, with the sudden reaction to which wom- an is subject, immediately and efficiently assisted the doctor to remove Jean's coat and Waistcoat. The wound was found, - "What a frightful cut I exclaimed Su- zanne.. "Nonsense, little woman l" said Merigny. You wounded him .more dangerously with your eyes, years ago. You could make a more painful scratch with your bodkin." "Dear, good doctor 1!" eried Suzanne, em- bracing him in an'ecstasy of joy. - ; "You charming, affectionate little mon- stei I You have made me look like a butcher or an army surgeon. See what you have done 9?" Doctor Paul pointed smilingly at his gar- ments, which were spotted with crimson. "It will wash out," said Suzanne, who, sit- ting down, began to laugh and cry alternately. "Hysteria?" said the doctor. "Her injury is greater than yours, Jean Louis. Fortu- nately for you, the dagger of your enemy glanced along a rib. TRe cutting of a few inches of flesh is nothing,l and this blood amounts to no more than a copious blood- letting. You are more frightened than hurt." "I am glad of that," said Jean, thank- fully. "I was thinking of Suzanne. and the children." * How did this happen, my friend?" asked Merigny, anon. "I felt steel in my side; that is about all I can tell fou. I did not stop for a second blow." "You ran?" "I ran, and I fired. "You fired What "' "That pistol on the floor. - After that, I heard no more footsteps. I don't know whether I bit the villain or ot; I only know that I reached home.' "Can you account for this?" "I have a secret 1" answered the bricklayer, in a low voice. "And a heavy secret it has been," said Suzanne. "You have carried it about a year. - If you had only shared it with me,it rwoulddiave been less troublesome." Then to Doctor Paul; "He went away one -night, and came back terribly changed. He has not been himself since. It has preyed upon him like a disease. He starts in the night, um I mutters strangely about bricks and mor- tar." "Is it a secret of importance, my friend!" asked the doctor. "So important that my life depends on it!" Do you feel well assured that it involves your life?". I have always thought to. But I shall k tell it; I can keep it no longer. I have kep , it faithfully for more than twelve months, ai 'this thrust in the side is my reward. I kno where it came from--nothing will convinc me that it is not from them." "Who are 'them'?" queried Merigny. "That is the secret which I am going t tell you. Ah, doctor, you have stopped ti bleeding and I feel better. Suzanne, dear i shut the windows and bolt the door." I "Do you think he ought to tell, doctor, i it puts his life in danger?" asked Suzanne "It is something dreadful, I am sure I hope it was not murder, Jean?" "There Are some secrets better kept tha * told-;,..but I am of the opinion that this i not one of them. Jean, only, can judge o the: expediency of divulging it," was th thoughtful reply. "1Nothing can make me keep it an hom longer It Listn and you shall hear." The 'bricklayer began and told the thrilliq story of the man m the wall, in a voic scarcely above a whisper. He had two hal breathless auditors. Suzanne raised her hand, occasionally and let them fall listlessly, in attestation of her unspeakable horror. Mt, rigny, less demonstrative, sat in silence, hi face alone bearing witness to iismemotions. "And so you walled him up?" gaspd Suzanne. "Soul and body!"' responded the brig layer, solemnly. "You remember, doctor, my singular conduct, when I reached the man. sion from which we took her?"He pointed to the adjoining room. "I do, distinctly." "No wonder; for the spot brought bad recollections of my midnight work. Do you not also recollect my perturbation when the gentleman addressed us in the hall? I cams near dropping my end of our burden. Tha was one of the men in masks. I knew the voice. I built the wall in that house, in the vaults beneath." "This is indeed a marvelous development You and I, Jean Louis, have become strang- ly connected with a web of crime. Your life, my friend, is truly in danger. The as- sasin's dagger may be said to be ever at you breast. You must be wise, prudent, discreet, and subtle as the silent snake. One comrnmon fate menaces all beneath this roof. By act. ing advisedly and in cocpeert, we will turn aside steel anl bullet, and pull ruit and igno miny upon the house. of De Villanville, said Doctor Paul, arising, and speaking earnestly "Doctor Merigny, 'ou will save us! ' You will tell us what to do I By you we shall ba governed. What a relief to know that one so wise, knows about this shocking affair!" said Suzanne, " I There'll be no safety for me," asserted t the bricklayer, despondingly. 4 I recall those terrible words that have haunted me so long: ',Wlerever you may go, the assassin'v dagger will find you:; Think of that 1" "Courage, courage, my friend!" returned Merigny. "We are strong in the right. Be- sides, if we say the word,the sword of justice falls like lightning!" CHAPTER XVII. BRANCISCA, THE JEWESS.-PRECAUTION. The young man accompanied his father, earing little whithler he went. The house of the banker was outwartly unpretentious, but within he found unmistakable signs of wealth and elegance. Roseuidale was a respectable- looking man, somewhat past the middle age of life. He, received De Villanville and his son with marked. courtesy and ease. He was manifestly in tielhabit of meeting men of rank and condition. While he conversed with De Villanville, he mentally sutmmed up Raymond, and arrived, no doubt,- at a product satisfac- tory to himself. Presently he tinkled a lit- tle silver bell. As if i!jesponSe to the soft tintinabulun, another party appeared, who had more interest for the eyes of Raymond than the gray-lhaired banker. It was a young lady, who swept slowly, almost noiselessly Into the room. My daughter Francisca," said the Jew. "My son Raymond," said De Villanville. The young man had already arisen. The eyes of the youthful pair met. Dazzled by her loveliness, Raymond bowed profoundly, while the Jewess gracefully bent her majestic figure. There ,is a charm about beauty- that always brings back'the wandering gaze, and gives a sil nt pleasure to the- beholder. Franeisca, the Jewess, reminded Raytimond of Catholina and Mademoiselle Merigny; but hers was a darke r and more imperious beau- ty. Her eyes were like black diamonds, matched only in lue by. the lashes, brows, and flowing hair. The white teeth, the lips like ripe strawherries, were wonderfully perfect while the softly-tinted cheeks and delicate oval contour of the face, was equally admir- able. The neck and shoulders, with their graceful lines, vied with the lily in exquisite- ness of shade. And the same was true of the arms and lhands, wlhich flashed with precious stones. Her attir was rich, and hihly becoming to lh-r peculir st le. - Raymond did not particularize her toilet; he only linew that i' gave him pleasure as a whole; that its flowing drapery added per- fectness to the delightfultpicture. Raymond was not without enthusiasm, and i Francisca, despite his recent agitation and sorrow, made his. heart glow and beat faster. If he could fault her in any particular, she was too stately in her manners, making one / feel lilke an inferior in her presence, and this, ' too, without any attempt at hauteur. De Villanville and Rosendale withdrew to a remote corner of the room, and kept. up a low ,and animated conversation. Raymond did his best to entertain the fair Jewess. To ' his surprise, he found her as accomplished as lovely. She spoke several languages fluent- ly. . Raymond left the Banker's, dazzled and bU. wildered, but without that charm that Made moiselle Merigny had cast over him. His fa- ther was in better Spirits, and talked moro hleerfully on their return. He felt assured that every heart must succumb to the witch- ery of Francisa. . He went directly to mad- ame, and told her his impressions, represent- ing her as a marvel of perfection, and entire ly irresistable. ' . '"Our son Raymond will be very rich. Leonora?" - "Yes, Philip." "But sometimes he is frightful. Do you remember how he talked of the stench in the vaults, and of the drain? An evil spirip seems to possess the boy, at times. A skels. ton in the cellar, indeed l!" "Cease to think of it. The conversation came up by the merest chance and in the most natural manner.- My word for it, he'H forget the drain before to-morrow. I 8xpect- ed every .moment that you would cry out and betray your weakness; but the apparent dan- ger brought back your courage. Another wall must be built."' "I'll have no more walls 1" cried De Vil. lanville. "The trowels, the clinking and hlammering, would kill me! Ah, hero is Pierre. Pierre, what is the matter with tho cellar?"' "Nothing, monsieur, except the leaking of a drain, whilch can be easily stopped. It ha heen 'so a long time-ever since-in- 1fet-. ever since-" . "You need not name the time!" interpos. ed De Villanville, hastily. "Why is your arm in a sling, Pierre?" - ' Pierre glanced at madame, and answered: "I got s little scratch, last night." "You are lying!" said De Villanville, sharply. "Come; I mistrust what you have been doing." ' "I feared to trust our secret any longer in such keeping. If he should be seized with tho fever, he would send for a magistrate and confess all." : "It is true, Philip," affirmedI madame. 4 I know it is," said De Villanville, reflect- ively. 4 But I wns willing to spar'e the poor man. So you tried the dagger?" Pierre made an affirmative gesture. "And succeeded?" -queriedf madrl , breathlessly. page: 50-51[View Page 50-51] "dAnd failed. I struck; he did not fall; he ran; I pursued; be turned and shot me in the arm. . * The failure is more to be regretted than the attempt," ,said De Villanville, coldly. is You should'havedealt a sure blow." :"You should have seen the dagger! I buried it in his side. He cannot live; no one could live with such a'wound," replied Pierre, confidently. ",He must have fallen dead be- fore reaching home. You are thnking of 'a eQnfession ;, but believe me, monsieur, he never will tell .what, he knows. Before this, the seal of eternal silence is on his lips. Sleep soundly, to-night, for the secret of the midnight masonry is known only to us three." "It is known to one too many 1" thopught De Villanville; but he did not say it. Iteras a singular coincidence that the same idea was in the mind ofinmadame. There bLhould not be an extensive copartnership in crime. Se- crets keep' better in a family than out of' it, especially if the family be limited to. two. sI 'hope this affair may turn out as you may," said De Villanville, in a more friendly tone. "I own that the bricklayer has troubled me. Pierre, you have been Faithful, and you shall hlave your reward." There was no weakness or hesitation in monsieur's expression theft. Tlhe matter of Pierre's reward was %raadv settled. The man felt a chill upon ihim as he went out, and the chill lasted himithe remainder of the day. Perhaps,it came of his wound; posei- blyhe caught it from the eyes of madame. The latter and monsieur were silent as long as they could hear the footsteps :of Pierre. "'What were you thinking of, Philip?" He gave her a look that shbe comprehend- ed-a look that was both gloomy and fierce. L, I. leave long known it," she replied, an- 'weringh;'s thought. ' Madame read him well. The fixed con- traction of his brow, the firmness of his lips, and a slight change of color, told h r what was passing in his mind. "He must follow the others,' said De Vil- lanville ., "We are too much in his power, Philip," answired madame, softly. "He holds us as in an iron yoke. With what perfect impuni- ty he can control us, ay, menace and insult m, if he will." It'is one of the penalties of-of---copart- rership." , - The, concluding word did not seem to fit the sense of the sentence; it was like putting -a new piece of cloth upon an old garment. There was anotlher word in the mind of De Villanville, but hle instinctively rejected it. ' Copartnership should nevter extend be- ,yond lhusband and wife. What they cannot accomplish should remain undone. You and ! 1, Philip, are sufficient for everything. ' I ob- jected to Pierre in the beginning. .We own nothing ; Pierre owns all. We shall leae nothing to Raymond; everything is in the lhinds of Pierre. If he cries 'Give, givel' like thie horse-leech, we must give. You are not the master of this house, Philip; Piere is master." "Your words are lerribly true, -Leonora!" cried De Villanville, with a more sinister ex- pression. ," Your words are daggers; you pierce me to the heart! What we have done has been for Raymond. Shall he be robbed of the fruits of our efforts? Never!" De Villanville's eyes flamed with anger. "You are -liko yourself," she said, well pleased to sec him take, the matter so earn- estly. "But let us waste neither time, words, nor breath[' Both had lowered their voices, and mad- ame's senses of hearing and seeing were acutely on the alert. "Decide upon the method," shec added. "Not without thouuhlt. It must be quiek, at least, for his suspicions must not be aroused. Pierre must not talk on his death- bed." ' No more!" said madame, warningly. "I hear his steps iln the hall; hoe is coming, and hurriedly, too." Monsieur smoothed his face, and looked up inquiringly, as Pierre approached. -They observed that hle was somewhat'disturbed. "What has happened?" asked madame, with the utmost composure. "Nothing of consequence-that is, nothing that does not happen almost every day. The body of a man, evidently murdersd, was taken from the river to-day. It was found across a hawser, against which the current had swept it." "It was the body of-" Do Villanvillo chedked himself Madame said: "Be careful, Philip!" . It was not the one you are thinking of," continued Pierre; " it was the other." "The other?" repeated his auditors. - "Yes, it was Carl. There was a deep wound in his breast." I "Another failure!" rmutter'd De Villan; ville. "It would seem, Pierre, that your plans are but awkwardly crried out. This is an important development. Its conse- quences cannot be easily estimated." "There aro various ways of accounting for this," resumed Pierro. "Carl may lhave fin- ished his w'ork in the manner intend, d, and afterward the gol! may hlave tempted the eyes of a drunken comrale. Or, both he and the other tmay have perished in the struggle. The d!ctorwasan nctive man, you know; ho mav have had strength, after receiving a mop tal wound, to wrest,away the dagger and deal that ugly thrust. How easy for them to roll from the Levee together." "Your theories are plausible, but do not entirely relieve my mind," De Villanville re- plied, after weighing Pierre's suggestions a moment. "When we take into consideration that the right one' lihas disappeared, and cannot be found, or heard of, my view-of the case be- comes not only reasonable but probable, and I might say, well-nigh certain. I accept one of the two suppositions," replied Pierre, scru- tinizing closely the countenance oil his supe- r or. / ' I wish I could believe it without doubt, for uncertainty in a case like this is misera- rably annoyin,. This affair must be looked into. We must set a watch on' Merigny's house. No onemust go in or come outwith- out beiii observed." "Thie same idea has occurred to me; not that I have very' serious fears," answered Pierre, evidently not satisfied with his the- ories; " but, as a matter of precaution against possible contingencies... ITh go and attend to it at once." "Do so,. good Pierre. . But, look you, em- ploy no agents. With us three"-he nodded his head slightly toward madame-" all is safe. We have tried, and we trust each other. Is it not so, my friend?" It was not usual for the proud De Villan- ville to call Pierre his friend. He was not only surprised, but secretly startled. He sin- gularly thlought ot the serpent sliming the bird he was about to swallow. "It is true, monsieur," he replied. "It is not pradent to share our knowledge with another: we are enouigh. As you say, we can trast each other." There was a pause, in which tliree pairs of eyes were busy, without seeming to be so. ' "When you want money," pursued De Vil- lanville, anon, "you have only to draw on me. You will find me no nigga-d. I never forget th ,se who serve me. With you I can afford to be generous. You shall 'spend money like a g ntleman." "M)isieur is very good," returned Pierre, bowing withI humility. "With your permis- sion, I will go and attend to the matter on D uphine street." , And ma!Fe inquiries, too. Learn, if you can, whether any other body has been taken from the river. Question the neighbors liv- ing in the immediate vicinity of the doctor's office. -Return as soon as you can, for I con- fess I am disturbed by distrust and suspense." Promising to be diligent and faithlful, Pierre Lereau hastened to fulfill his new com- mission. , * , * g- CHAPTER XVH. "GONE OUT." While De Villanville was discussing thiese matters with Pierre, Raymond was on the way to Dauphine street. Reaching the doctoros office, he observed, placed beneath Merigny's name in a window, the following words,/'writ. ten very legibly on a slip of paper: '" bone out. Will be in soon." He had not, on his previous visitS, noticed this announcement; but supposed that it must have been there. He rang; a strange face, appeared at the' door-a woman, with a most uncommunicative air. Hle inquired for Merigny. "Gone out," she said, listlessly. Where has he gone?" The woman shook her head dubiously. "When will he return?" The impassive porteress stared him in the face as if she could not comprehend his mean- ing. Raymond began to lose patience. "Inform Mademoiselle Merigny that I would see her," he said. "She has gone, too." "Gone! Where?" The woman's head moved slowly from side to side, as before. There was a painfully dull and inapprehensive expression upon her coun- tenan'e. When will mademoiselle come back?" "She won't come back." , The words breathed from her lips as if an automaton spoke. "-Idiot!" exclaimed Raymond, no longer - able to govern his impatience. "Can you not comprehend? Have you quite lost your wits? Tell me at once where mademoiselle may be found?" "People that go away can'tte found," she answered, with solemnity. ." You can't find her; nobody tan find her. Don't ask ques- tions. You are mad. young man. Terror of the plague has driven away your senses. Hark I hear the carts ;* how, they rattle aad jolt along, rumbling over the stonries " "Stand aside, poor maniac!" said Ray- mond, gently pushing her from the door andA entering the hall. "You needn't look for her here. Go nnd search for her in the black burial swamp, back of the city. I tell you she has gone out, and will not return. She has gone after her brother." Raymond turned from her with secret awe, and glanced in the office. He even went and tinkled the little bell, on the doctor's table. Neither footstep nor voice answered. - "Mademoiselle! mademoiselle!" he called "Mademoiselle!" cried tihe woman at the top of her voice. "Mademoiselle! That's loud enough, isn't it? But you see she don't colis." page: 52-53[View Page 52-53] She laughed and looked curiously at Ray- mond. "Is she dead?" he 'emended, seized with a sudden apprehension. "Gon* gone! Gone after her brother. You'atfdhrnbd can't find her; nood an fid her." Raymond pointed to the card in the win. dow. . "Yes, gone out!" she muttered, nodding her head continuously. "Will be in soon. ka, ha-!. Ha, ha!" ' She laughed wildly. "Will be in soon," she repeated. "It isn't all that go out that come in soon. Hark! hear tie trundling and the rumbling, and the ereakid and the rattling of the carrier's carts. Raymond was now in the deepest perplex- ity. The woman was evidently mad. It was apparent that he could gain from her no relia- ble intelligence. Why was she there? Had she lost her lenses within the last few hours by Opme terrible shock?' Where wasEdna? He would have given handfuls of' gold for an an- swer to this question. He hastened to the room where he hal, seen her the previous night. To the eye it remained the same; but ehe was wanting to give it life. He could scarcely believe that she would not appear. The woman followed-him. "How long have youi been here?" he asked. Slie held up both herhands. "Count allthe fingers, then multiply t]iem together, then add a century. A century! Ah, that will be too much! Take off nix months or a year, or even forty years; I don't mind. I count my life by the fevers that hlave come and gone. I have cooked many meals in this house. But where are tihe mnouths that are to eat them now? If you have taken them away, bring them back. You look distressed. Pe'haps youl have carth ed somebody to the swamp. What do you care? You are young, and will soon forget it. Ai my pretty young gentleman! You are looking for Edna. 'She was a true Me-, rigny. Do you know that she was not com- "on flesh, but an angel? Too" dainty, sir, She was, for human love. Go tway, monieur; you are too mortal," "In the name of' od, goqd woman, 9ollect your senses!" efitreate,1 aymond; treibting from head to foot. "Pity my uncertainty. bav that she is living, and remov9this hor- rile oppression from my chest."' 'A very slight change pasted over the wom- an's visage. She sat 4pwn as' if from 'weak- ness, and eontemplated Raymnopd with curios- #y and surprise. Therie was more intelli-.: pnee in her gaze than 'sihe had previously' manifested. , , Whlo are you?" she demanded, abruptly. "My name is Raymond." "How dare you?" "How dare I what?" "What presumption! Did I not tell you that she was not common flesh and blood?" She spoke hurriedly, sternly, and with something of,scorn.' The young man's faal grew red and hot. "So your secret is out! But don't put your thoughts up there. That name is too high for you. , Go, and neyver come again, She has but one love, and, that is Doctor Paul." The young man was astounded.' Ho, slow., ly retreated from the maniac ; and, by some singular magnetism, seated himself where Mademoiselle Ednahad satsome hours before. "Ha s it, then gone so, far '" she added. "Have you yielded so quickly and entirely? Is your life so bound up in it? Poor fool I Would you pluck an angel as you would tear an apple from a tree?" She made a contemptuous gesture. Dis- dain and anger darted from her eyes. "Is mademaoiselle so cheap," she went on, "that you come to ask for her as you would for a servant? That you wander about this house as if it had never been sanctified by her presence?" She stopped, and breathed like ope who had been ru'nning. Raymond was more and more confounded. He glanced within, and perceived that he had indeed gone far. His rapidly-throbbing heart, his quivering nerves, his fying pulses, told him that e loved Edna. His pain at her dis. appearance confirmed the silent and emphati affirmation. "Will you tell ,me that she lives?" he ask- ed, humbly, almost abjectly. "Yes, she lives; how could she die? Do you think the plague has power over such? Would God permit the, perfection of the world to be destroyed --to consume with the hot breath of pestilence? But she is dead to ," '"o mahtter who, alh be dead to, if she be but yet ajive. I thank you for u ao much that is intelligible." "*You will never geo her again. Don't haunt this house; dont o.oze day after day to worry me with usiless inquiries. I havy to'ld you all I stall ever tqll you about her!" "This is srprising '!" mutered theyoung man. ,Speak to ;me of Merigny't" Loolq t t O e caTl4 lV t that tell you? Can't yiu read, y'oing gentleman? ' " ' ow out. . 'SillcOeirso,' jn Il'aE What will the yellow mo nster sVy to that? What can make Dotor Pau, break his word? He willf not lie, though the plOg-ne, should meet him face to face. Let the carts rumble, and turnm. ble, and trundle, and rattle over the stones ') he won't mind them a straw. There! that is all. When you want to knowanything, just read thie card. You'll always find it just there in the window, where he left it.." The woman's excitement had gradually subsided, but she did not fluctuateo back to her dull, apathetic starting-point. There was still animation in her eyes and countenance. Raymond slowly passed into the hall, and thence into tlihe street, wishing, the while, to ask more concerning Edna, but convinced of the utter hopelessness of obtaining further informabion. The thought that of all ma1 women, she was the strangest, was' in his mind. , Hoewalked mechanically up the street, crossed it, and returned on the opposite side. He stopped, looked vaguely at the doctors card, and pondered upon what he had heard. The whole Merigny household' had nowhe- come a mystery. The doctor's unaccounta- ble absence. his secret return in disguise, and the solemn vow of silence that he himself' had made, were' fresh in memory. Where had he gone? What did this legend on the window mean? He wished to see him. He was anxious to question him in regard to 'Catholina. Th ore were many things that he desired to ask. From these reflections he returned, with unerring certainty, to Mademoiselle Edna. In her disappearance, lie felt that he had sus- tained a 0loss. He began to realize his feel- ings respecting that young woman. Did he love licer? 'Ho shrank' from the question; for, to admit to the affirmative seemed like a wrong to Catholina. CHAPTER XIX. O0RMS OPPOSITE. WiLiie Raymond was thus mentally em- ployed, lie saw Pierre coming up the street on the other side,' and not wishing to be seen by hiln, and curious to know the motive of his vis;t to that quarter, retreated into an al- ley just behind him. He was considerably surprised to see the man pause at the doctor's door ard ring. The same woman who had so worried Raymond answered the bell. : The younr man shrank close to the wall, and wathed the parties. Ho tried to hear' what was said, but could not. The conversation was short, and evidently decisive, on the part of the woman, who presently shut the door in his face, without ceremony. Pierre remained discomfited a -moment on the steps; then crossed theo street, stopping every instant to look 'back at the writing in -the window. Raymond heard him repeat the words as he reached the sidewalk, a ittle. above- his hid- 'ing place, -It appeared to him that they were not spoken in a natural tone of voice. He wondered what interest the man could feel in Doctor Merigny. "Gone out!" muttered Pierre. "Yes; I trust he has gone out-never, never to come back! Ah! if he could have looked into th* future when he went out!" Raymond's ears were open. Pierre'ssolus thrilled him strangely. Another link in the chain of evidence was, without ,eff6rt, so far as he was concerned, being thrust into his hand. That there had been crime; or at- tempted crime, or both, lie felt assured ;, a consciousness of it was momentarily growing upon him, and urgently appealing to him. "Will be in soon!" added Pierre. "Why don't they pull down that lying paper Why do they prolong the falsehood? Ah i what is this? 'Rooms to let.' Just the thing!" Raymond immediately heard the clattering of an old-fashioned knocker, then the open- ing and shutting of a door, then, after a fittle delay, the shuffling sound of feet ascending st-irs. Raymond remained in the alley till' Pierre came out of the house and went away. He did not venture from the alley till he was out of Dauphine street, then emerging, took a survey of the premises. The announce- ment, "Rooms to let," was pasted to the door of the house exactly opposite Doctor Merigny's. The young man seized the knocker, and bat a clamorous tattoo on the metallic plate. A middle-aged female opened the door. "The paper on your door has induced me to trouble you," he said. "Have you front rooms?" "I had, a few minutes ago,.but have but one now," she answered. ' "You let it to the person who just went away, probably?"' "Yes; and'he didn't dispute about terms, whilch isn't common. Come this way, sir, and I'll show you a room fit for a prince. It isn't everybody can get such accommoda- tions, and they ought to be thankful that can.'* The woman wiped her face with her apron, and seemed deeply impressed'with the clos- ing part of her remark. She conducted him up-stairs. "So he engaged a room?" said Raymond&j "Ay; and paid for it in advance. That's the way to do business. Send me such cus- tomers, say I. I am a poor widow. mion- sieur, depending on what I get for a living." ' Is the gentleman going to stop here hiim- self?" asked Raymond, scarcely conscious that she had been' speaking. "Yes, 'tis for his own self; and here or not here, he will pay the same. He's one of the rich folks, I expect, and the rich folks will have their own way." She pushed open a door. "This is the room, monsieur. Isn't it a beauty for this city, where all the houses are built so low that you can scarcely, stand page: 54-55[View Page 54-55] up in the chambers?. Here you can move round without bumping your head against the ceiling. And it is so cheap I! so cheap, monsieur I Look at that bed, will you? One could sleep on it with a burning fever, it is so soft and clean.' And the chairs! There's not one of 'et'that'll let you down when you trust your weight on it." "Is there another entrance?" "There Ai a back door, monsieur; but gen- tlemen 'generally don't like to come in at the baok door.'? ' I will take this room, and will come in at the back door." 'You have not asked the terms, mon- sieur.' "I care nothing for the terms! Hold your hand." She quietly held out her palm, and the young man laid some gold pieces upon it. Her face beamed with pleasure. , "Monsieur must be very rich," she observ- ed. "There are a few additional words to our bargain: You are always to admit me by the back entrance, and never let me be seen by the person who has hired the adjoining apart- ment." "Yes. You doubtless have reasons for what you do, and I shall be pleased to oblige "At the threshold you will always tell me if your other lodger is here." "' I will do so. Hbre is tho key. What name, monsieur?" "Baville. We understand each other,'do we not?". "We do, Mopsieur Baville. You are a real gentleman, and I like to have real gentlemen in my house. Come and go when you will; you will not be questioned. I know my busi- nbss, monsieur. Perhaps you would like to be alone, to look out into the street, and make yourself at home?" ,' Exactly," answered Raymond, very ab- sently. The woman vanished, and the young man, sitting down by a window, gaze d over across the way a long time. He went home, disturbed with new fears. Doubt hung over him like a black cloud. painful' misgivings haunted him. "Raymond," said his mother, "I have been up to your chamber. I noticed that the clothes you wore yesterday were soiled with clay. Absolutely,.my son, one would think you had been grave-digging." , "And not be guilty of a great mistake, eith- er," he answered, instantly resolving what to do. "You speak in riddles," replied madame, uneasily.... "Sit down. mothers, let me tell you what I have done. I found the carrier who' had buried Catholina." I "You are going to be horrible!" exclaimed madame. \ "He conducted me to the spot where he said he had laid her." Madame held' up her hands obtestingly. i"There was a fearful concert of spades out there, mother. Lanterns danced about like fire-flies. The hoarse voices of tihe diggers arose in irreverent song, or vulgar jest and careless laughter. But I stood by the re- puted grave of Qatholina. I told the carrier to dig." . "Dreadful!" said Madame Dc Villanville, shivering. "The man scraped awny the eartlh-some six or eight inches thrown lightly upon a black box. The spade soon gave a hollow sound on the lid." "Frightful boy! You have gone mad!" Madame snatched her vinaigrette from the table, and was much agitated. . "I leapede into the shallow pit," resumed Raymond, steady to his purpose," and wrench- ed off a portion of the lid witl a pick. Moth-' er, what do you think I Faw?" "Unhappy boy I How you shock me I! Push away your chair-don't come nearer!" "What' do you think I saw?" repeated her son. "Catholina," answered madvame, in a hoarse whisper. "No ; it was not Catholina; it was a beard- ed face, black with the plague-spot." "Shocking I shocking I How could you? How-dare you? Then you came home, reek- ing with contagion and death!" She trembled with disgust and terror. "Mother! did you not hear me say that it was not Catholina?" Raymond spoke sternlyg and looked firmly at his mother. "It was but a blunder of the stupid, dread- ful carrier. For your sake I am glad that there was a mistake." "He protests that there was no mistake; thblhe buried the box which lie took from the carrier who first came to the house, and marked the mound with a wooden cross. We found the cross and the mound, but not her I sought." '"So, my son, you discovered that two earls came for our poor child? I suppose it was a natural consequence of hurried orders; for Pierre was much confused that night. He ran about like one distracted. The circum- stance that troubled you so much is easily explained. The last carrier took the wrong box from the wrong cart, so that Catholina lies buried no one knows where." "It was, to say the least," returned Ray- mond, pacing the floor, absorbed in thought, ",a very singular occurrence. It is our duty to sift the matter to the bottom, and find out where her remains were deposited. She must rest in no unnoted grave. White marble mon- uments must mark the sacred spot. Flowers must grow there, and prayers be said for the repose of her soul" ' "True, true! ' gasped Madame De Villan- ville, alarmed she knew not why. "My son, you frighten me! With what fierce resolu- tion you pursue a purpose! Who but a ma- niac would prowl among graves at night? I believe you are becoming a vampyre. You fill me with horror!" I "I am sorry," pursued Raymond, that I cannot find Doctoi Merigny. I wish to draw from him the particulars of Catholina's death." His mother blushed. "He attended her, did he not?" "He was sent for," she stammered, a hot flush suffusing her forehead, " but-" "I saw the certificate," interposedl Ray- mond, abruptly and coldly. "Ah, I remember! -He arrived a few mo- ments before she breathed her last, but I did not see him. I was in my room, nearly be- side myself with grief." "But what need of that certificate?" "A mere legal form, Raymond." * It has to me a cold and worldly look. How could one think of propertf at such a moment? Ishould have thought of her, only,' though she had left the world to be inherited by me." "The noble generosity of youth," observed his mother, sentimentally. "Mother, I trust everything is right;- that we shall stand innocent of evil thoughts be- fore God." "* I hope so!" murmured madame, shiver- ing with secret apprehension, and scarcely able to meet the penetrating glances of her son. To her he seemed, for the time being, like the chosen instrument of Heaven's justice. His every word was like an arrow planted in her breast. She knew that suspicion, though no larger at first than a grain of mustard,. would soon grow into an overshadowing tree, inthe branches of which the accusing birds of truth would alight. Here was an enemy in her own household, upon whom she had not reek- oned in her catalogue of contingencies. He for whom she had committed crime, was about to rise up as a witness against her. "It is very unaccountable about Poctor Merigny," Raymond went on. "His mysteri-' ous disappearance dates from the time of his visit to this house." "I was not aware of that. I wonder that lall the doctors are not swept away. I have heard of' their falling down and dying in the street; they are so exposed, and take it in such a virulent form." Here was another disagreeable theme, "Did lie walk or ride home?" She felt her son's eyes upon her, and kept her own cast down. "I don't know; you must ask Pierre. I think, however, that he walked; for I now recollect seeing both Pierre and Joseph busy about the house immediately after Catholina expired." "Who went for the dead-cart?" asked Ray- mond, pointedly. "Pierre, but not immediately. There! a truce to this dismail subject. And do not come very near me for the next twelve hours, my son, for I am really afraid of you. I did not imagine that you were such a terribly resolute creature. You have shocked me, Raymond. I am not made of iron. It was the act of a madman. Your nerves must be 'in a frightful flutter. You had better go to your chamber and have a physician." "There, is no need, dear m ther. The ex. citement is past. I have give ou pain; but I could not help it. I was inwardly constrain- ed to make this confession, and say what I have said. 'I hall not- be quite cheerful till I ha e cleared up the mystery and doubt that hang over Catholina." With these words mother and son separat- ed, to the relief of both. CHAPTER XX. THE MAD MAN. The fever made such ravages in the city, that the De Villanvilles concluded to go into the country for a few weeks. Raymond heard the proposition with pleasure, and set out at' once. Monsieur and madame were to follow in a few days. Instead of the country, Ray- mond retired to Dauphine street, and quietly took possession of Ithe apartments he had secured, where he watched faithfully Doctor Merigny's house, and the incomings and outgoings of Pierre. In Madame LeclerO, the widow who kept the establishment, ho had a trusty ally. All was silent over the way. The card re- mained in the window. Those who came for the doctor, rang till they were weary, and went away in anger or surprise: There was no sign of life within. Pierre Lereau duly installed himself in the adjoining room. The young man could hear him moving about hour after hour. To add to his security, Raymond wore a yellow wig and red whiskers, and dressed himself in the clothes of a sailor. He lumbered 'his room with marine shells, miniature ships, spears, and bows, and war-clubs from the Indian islands, together with various uncouth and unnamable tihings. Madame De Villanville would not have recognized her son, had sh'* by accident found him in his new quarters. page: 56-57 (Illustration) [View Page 56-57 (Illustration) ] The day after his removal to Madame Leclcrc's, that worthy person had another application in the line of her business. Ray- mond, whose door was open, saw her conduct two men up the stairs, and show themnirear room oppositiis. One was about ithirtyr five years of age, rathertall, with the unmis- takable prestige of a mariner. His face was weather-beatehn and brown, but good-natured in eipression. His eyes were quick, sharp, with an evident twinkle of humor in them. The other was "older, shorter in stature, with neglected hai' and beard, wild and wan- dering eyes. and' squallid cheeks. His gar- ments were worn to a thread, and, his entire person showed a want of tidiness and care. his individual took it upon himelf to bar- gain 'with the widow Leclerc. He entered the room with considerable dignity, but pres- ently began a,close inspection of every cor- ner, and athe little closet behind the door. In doing this. his, face expressed both cunning -and timidity. Finally, approaching Madaiie Leclere cautiously, and placing his open hand partially over his mouth, as if to cut: off what he was, roing to say from other erms, he eaid, in a startling whisper,: "Rats, madaime? Any rats?" Madame Leelere prudeitly retreated a step, asking: . "What do you nay, sir P" "Rats, rats, rats 1 Aniy tats?" The inquirer's pale facc war thrust for- ward, and he waited for the woman's ansWer with manifest impatience. ' "Not a rat," replied Madame Lcclero. "tiut I can get a few, if Monsieur wishes." "No rats! No rats 1" e*xclaimedthe ques-. tioner, turning to histaller companin. "Do ypu hear that GCapt in Triplett? There were rats aboard ship-armies of them, my friend I I could hear: their sharp teeth at work be- tween the timbers.: They. scampered up and down in the night, driving sleep from my heavy lids. There were a million rats down I in the run I The bilge-water smelled of rats." . , The mariner nodded his head good-natured- 4 ly. The speaker again addressed Leelerc. ' 3 4 Can you .speak with absolute' certainty, good woman? Have you ever taken up the 1 floor? Have you ever searched the inter- 1 stices between the walls with long needles?" "N-n--no t" faltered the woman, quite astonished, annl in defiance of the pantomime i of the mariner, who signaled her to say 1 "That is unfortunate!" "Ahem! Avast there! Let's throw the lead till we're out o' soundings. She means, t messmate, that she didn't do it with her own f And, hut had it done, which amounts to the r same thing." . ' . ' "Is that your meaning, woman?"' asked r the other, ^ith a frown. "Yes,' stammered the widow, this time t taking her cue from the mariner. r "That is as it should be. Is this house ot brick, or wood, or stone?" pursued he of the neglected beard, with an earnestness which attested- how much he was interested in the I question, "Wood, every inch on't," replied the man who had been addressed as Captain Triplett. "That's plain as a ship's foremast." "Certainly; all wood," asserted the widow," feebly. "That is right! I hate brick walls and stone masonry. I take the room;, but you must never talk of bricks in my presence." "I don't know, monsieur, but this room is partly engaged," replied Madame Leclere, by -no means certain whether it were advisable to take such an eccentric lodger. "I own a great deal of property, madame, and your terms are to me matters of the ut- most indifference. I own all the houses on the opposite side of the street. Indeed, it would be hard to find a house that I haven't a claimx on. I have a desk full of mortgages, ma'am, but unfortunately,the desk has been stolen. I haye lost millions by dishonest pdople; My memory hass failed very much, too. I have forgotten the name of the street where I lived, and in fact my own. Triplett, my friend, what is my name?" "Commodore," said Triplet. "Thank you, captairi." Then to the wid- ow: "The captain remembers everything. lie' has 'the most extraordinary memory in the world. You will please arrange all mon. ey matters with him. I never attend to pe- cuniary arrongemehts myself." The widow's eyes were now dilated with wonder. "You' can retire a moment with the cap tain, and adjust the paltry details," 'dded Commodore, with a majestic wave of the hand. 'Madame Leclercwas obviously very glad of this permission, and with becoming apol- ogies, led the mariner into Raymohd' apart- ment. "Lost his bearin's," said the sea-faringman, touching his forehead. "His senses are all taken aback by the winds of adversity. He's on. his beam-ends, ma'am, and can't right himself. But he's perfectly harmless in the main; though, as a general thing, he mus'n't be crossed. He's been terribly-wronged, Com- modore has, by somebody; and if 'he ever gets his reason, there'll be an overhauling of the log, and a day' o' teekonin'; He's a' gen- tleman born, you see, and there's heaps o' knowledge in his head, when you happen to run afoul on't. I fished him out o' the Mis- sissippi one night, as I was droppin' down page: 58-59[View Page 58-59] oward the Balise, and took him a v'y'ge to I sea. He was a sight to see, ma'am, when I fust grappled him. He was bruised and wounded from stem to starn, and there wasn't a capful of wind in his lungs. I've tried to bring him about, but he won't answer the helm, so I thought it best to bouse him up to an anchorage in port till his upper *orks can be put in sailin' order. You needn't be afeard, for he's gentle as a lamb; though there's a few things which you musn't mention. He has his excited spells, at which times it would be well for yc to keep away; for be might -rake ye fore and aft with a broadside that might cut up your runnin' riggin' consider'ble. I shall be with him a good deal myself, ma'am; and. I'll warrant that everything'll go to your mind. He's had several gleams of sense lately, and I think he'll come out some day of a sudden. Then it 'll be worth something to know who has wronged, and rohbed, and murdered him. As for me, I shall stick to lIim like a barnacle to a ship's bottom; nnd if lie don't eventu- ally drop anchor in thS harbor of reason. it won't be any fault o' mine." / "* What do you think of him, sir?" asked Madame Leclerc, appealing to Raymond. "I confess that I sympathize with his un- fortunate condition," the young man answer- ed, who had listened with the greatest inter- st to the conversation. The pale face and mQlancholy voice of the demented mnn seemed not wholly strange to sight and hearing. His consciousness gave back, an echo, but he could not trace it to its starting-point. "* Here's a taSte o' salt-water. How fare ye, comrade?" Captain Triplett stretched out a great hand, which Raymond shook heartily. There was something in the man that pleased him. "You've run into a snug harbor, mess- mate, and I hope you'll have a good time on't till you're ready for sea again. I'm glad you have a fellow-feeling -for Commodore. He's been wrecked, as 'twere, and I've towed him into port without any expectation of sarvice. I never pass a strange craft in distress.", "A good principle. This man, you say, you took from the river. Could he give no account of himself?"Raymond asked. "He'd entirely lost his rebk'nin'. Mentally, he'was out o' soundin's, and hasn't touched bottom but once or twice since." "How long since you fell in with him?" "A little better nor a year aso, 'cordin' to the log. He raved dreadfully, talkin' of rats, and walls, and drains, which nobody could make head nor tail on." "Walls, and drains, and rats," repeated Raymond. "That is singular." "Ay, but it has a meanin' to it. The frag- ments of memory which a msdman keeps ii. his mind are the same to the doctor as i light-house to the navigator. Now somethin! will eventually grow out of his mutteringt about briok walls, and drains, and rats. Rea son,-by-and-by, will rise on him like the sut on a dark sea, and then we shall know al about what lie has suffered; for you may de pend on't, he's been unfairly dealt with." "No doubt-no doubt," replied the young man, looking curiously at the object of thei conversation. Then to the widow: "Madame Leclere, I think you may rely on what this man says." *"If monsieur is of that opinion, he can have the room." "You're a right tidy little craft, and I thank you kindly on behalf of Commodore. May you have prosperous ,brcezes to waft you to the port of lhnppiness I That's the worst wish of Jolliver Triplett, who has sailed the salt sea for twenty year, and never found him- self any poorer for helpin' a fellow-bein' in distress." "Is not Commodore an odd name?"Ray- mond inquired. "I give it to him myself. You see It's the name of the ship I sail in. He'd forgot what he used to be called, so I named him arter my craft." At that moment the madman motione'dto Triplett in the most mysterious manner, his countenance being exceedingly. grave and troubled. Triplett, cheerfully answering the signal, Commodore cautiously led him to a corner, and whispered a few words in his ear. The captain shook his. head, and said, " no," soothingly. "He wishes to know," added Triplett, re- turning to Raymond, and Madame Leclerc, "' if there is a drain below. You must posi- tively assure him that there is not, if he ever questions you in. regard to it. That is the only way to manage him." "I will humor him," said Madame Leclere. So the matter was quickly settled, and Cap- tain Triplett and Monsieur - Commodore were duly installed in the lodging-house on Dau- phinlo street, while Raymond De Villanvillo was furnished with a newsand singular train of thought, which might lead he knew not where. But there were shapes and frag- ments in his brata that began to unite and form a remarkable chain of circumstances and strange coincidences, the import of which le could not yet comprehend. CHAPTER XXI. EDNA AND CATHOLINA. "Alas," sighed Suzanne, " we shall nevei know safety and peace again.! I shall dream nightly of daggers and assassination. No wonder that poor Jean could not sleep in his page: 60-61[View Page 60-61] bed. It is a fearful thing to be obliged to steal about the streets like a felon when oule has committed no crime, nor to be able ,o hold his head among honest people." There was a light step at the door and a timid knocking. "'She has come!" exclaimed AMerigny. springing to the door. In a. moment' he was embraeing' his sister. "I knew you would come, Idid not doubt your faithfulness," he added. "Yes, I have come, Doctor Piul," she an- swered. "You know you have but to speak to commarnnd my services." , She olanced about the room, as if in search of some one. "She is there" said Merigny, pointing to the apartment that contained his treasure. You shall see her soon. But first say some- thing td these worch v people, who have also snuffered from' the evil d&eds of the De Villan- villes. This is Jean Louis, the bricklayer, and this Suzanne, his wife. Jean can tell you the strangest story. The assassin's dagger is poised over his head. Ha cannot go out or comns in in security. See, he is wounded. His life has just beoen assailed. Di not be alarmed ; he is not dangerously injured. Tho3e stains come from a mere flesh wound." Elaa .fllied, and spoke some friendly words to Sazinne anrd the bricklayer. "Ah, Paul," she 'whispered, presently, to her brother, "I treible! I fear to see this pretty, helpless creature of yours. I doubt whether I am good enough to be what you wish to her." You are good enou-h to be 'a saint," he replied, kissing lher hand. "Jealousy is sometimes cruel." "Only with the cruel. Have you adjusted everything at the-house for a long absence?" According to your wishes and instruc- tions, Mrs. Kirkland was, with some argu- ment and entreaty, induced to aid and abet in your singular purpose. Sheknows her part, and will enact it well. The card that you used to leave, sometimes, when you went out, I placed in the window. ' Gone out. Will be in soon.' It will be like an accusing ghlost to the guilty. What will they think, seeing it there day after day? Then there will be the fear of a failure on their minds, to give those simple words double significance." "You are an invaluable ally. Will you see her now?" "I will see her. But, Paul, I warn you that I shall hate her 'y "You cannot ' said Paul, gently. Opening a door, he led Edna to the bed where Catholina was reclining. She was'white as a lily. The faint rays of morning stealing through the shutters, glowed like dim, elec- tric fires over her face, giving it a soft, dreamy brightness. An exquisite hand and arm lay lighltly upon' the pillow. The transparent, half closed lids, with their long lashes, lifted as they advanced, and tie starry eyes looked up. She glanced from Merigny to his sister. A scarcely'perceptible wave o0 color mount-. ed to her cheeks. Mademoiselle Merigny did not speak, but contemplated the picture before her with in- tense curiosity, mingled with wonder, while Catholina seemed almost equally affected by the beauty of Edna. "Mademoiselle Catholina, this is my'sister. You cannot tell what pleasure it gives me to bring her to you. I am sure that your souls will unite in friendship." - - Edna took Catholina's hand, and shivered while sihe held it in hers. The young girl's loveliness terrified her. She was assured that any one might love such a being. While she sympathized with Catholina's sufferings, a painful feeling of jealousy igitated her. Sho said to herself: "I shall have to abdicate. Here is the real queen of my brother's heart." Doctor Paul was watching her. She met' his searching eyes. Her expression told him, as plainly as possible: "I have lost. you, Doctor Patul! This piece of wax-work has done me an injury." "Mademoiselle," said Edna, "my brother has informed me what has happened. It is all very dreadful, and you must not think of it. He has a plan-Doctor Paul lhas-and he thinks I am strong enough to he'Ip him. I don't know whether I can; I shall try." I "Mademoiselle, she can do, anything she tries. She is the best girl in the world!" "1She is very good!" murmured Catholina, faintly. Then to Edna: "Mademoiselle Me- rigny, I owe your brother a great debt of gratitude." "Any one would have done what he did. Do not lay too much stress upon his faithful- ness," returned Edna. OCatholina shook her head, and looked in credulous. There was more argument in that motion than Edna cared to contend with. "I shall leave you together," said Merigny, "while I make arrangements for our burial from human sight and observation There is a building, not a stone's throw from the Old Barrack, which I believe will answer our purpose. It will not be tedious to'be shutup there a few weeks or months, I am sure." Edna glanced at Catholina and smiled. "Jean Louis and his wifewill be our house keepers. Suzanne will be very useful. She can go and come in disguise, and provision our castle. And, for that matter, we will all have disguises," added the doctor, smiling. "Romance!" said Edna. "None for you, for I ihall keep you a closo prisoner. I had intended that Jean Louis should'attenditho' tis ; but, since he is wound- ed, I must go myself." ' Stay, Doctor Paul!" said Edna, authori- tatively. It is far more prudent for you to remain within doors. Suzanne and I can do all that is to be done, with less risk and bet- ter speed." "What, engage a house?" "A dozen, if necessary." "And make it ready to receive us?" "Certainly, Doctor Paul. The vicinity of the 01 1 Barrack will be watched to-day, I should suppose, on 'account bf Jean Louis. The person who gave him that wound will wish t, know its effects." "You are right," answered Merigny. "I trust everytiing to you. "It will, on reflec. tion, be the safest, for Jean and I to remain within doors to-day. To-night we will flit, like full-fledged birds, from the nest." An hour later, Edna and Suzanne left the cottage on their voluntary errand. On the following day, the little dwelling of the brick. layer w is found closed, and a piece of crape tied to the door-knob. Tie neighbors, in passing, shook their heads. nothing doubting but that the pestilence had visited Jean Loun Meantime, the removal had pafely taken i place. The night, having been dark, favor- ed them. The house selected f6r their se- clusion proved in every respect a Ivantage- ous. To be sure, it-was a dismal fabric, and had long been tenantless on that account. There were dwellings near it, but the locali- ty, at tnat time, was not considered desirable. The roar looked toward the Old Barrack, and the bricklayer's cottage could be seen from the upper windows. . . Catholina submitted to the wishes of Doc- tor M.,rigny with charming grace and docili- ty. Her health was hourly improviig, and she did her best'to appear cheerful and con- tent.' It was noticeable, however, that Made- moiselle Edna grew silent and melancholy, and was often found with a thoughtful face and abstracted air. Suzanne proved invaluable, and, among other things, procured various disguises, to be used in case they should be required, or as the desires or necessities of the. parties might prompt. CHAPTER XXII.' A. STREET ADVENTURE. On the evening of the second day of his vigil, Raymond's attention wa3 attracted by the appearance of a youth, who stopped at Merigny's door, and having first pulled the bell-knob gently, rapped with a light walking- stick which he carried. The fact that he both rang and knocked, was noticed by Raymond, who, tiring of his log watch, was ready to seize upon mere straws of hope to keep up his resolution. While he was mentally ask- ing what would be the result of this double demand, the door was opened, and the youth admitted. "Ah l"' said Raymond, here is one at last, who can gain entrance without question 1" With increasing interest, he waited for the lad to come out; but hle seemed in no haste to reappear. While thus employed, he heard his fellow-watcher, Pierre, descend to the street. He would scarcely have noticed this circumstance, had not Pierre stepped softly, like one desirous of concealing his movements. Half an hour afterward, the object of Ray- mond's curiosity was let out by a woman- the same he lad seen. Without delaying a moment, the lad moved away, but had pro- ceeded but-a short distance when Raymond saw Pierre stealing after him. To go down and follow Pierre was a thought no sooner. con, eeived than adopted. It was not so dark but objects could be seen with tolerable distinet- ness, and the young man kept the parties in view with little effort. It 'soon become evi- dent that the youth was conscious of being closely observed by Pierre; ho walked faster, and turned into another street. Raymond was near enough to the pursuer to note that he was greatly interested in the chase, and that momentarily his heat and hiurry increas- ed. His eagerness was such, that lie did not look back to see if he were himself 61oserved. The possibility of such a thing did not occur to Pierre, who rapidly gained on the lad be- fore the latter appeared conscious of the factt. When assured that the distance was lessening Ietween them, the youth began to run, and manifest 'alarm. Pierre was soon upon the flying boy, and laid a by no means gentle hand on his shoulder. "Why do you run, folish boy?" he asked, holding him without difficulty. ' Of what have you been guilty that vour conscience so accuses you? Have you perpetrated some crime, that you cannot walk the street with- out terror? You must go before the authori- ties, unless you at once explain the meaning of this strange conduct." It is doubtful what Pierre Lereau would havedone next, or wihat his purpose was; for, at this juncture, Raymond hurried forward, and knocked him down. Ho struck hard, and the fellow lay, quite bewildered, in the street. The -youth was singularly pale, trembled, and breathed fast. "Restrain your fears, my boy," said Ray- , mond, encouragingly. "He has not the now- er to harm you." He pointed at the prostrate form of Pierre, The youth looked up-Raymond looked down. The former saw a red-haired sailor; the lat- page: 62-63[View Page 62-63] ter, the fair face of Edna Merigny. However much he was surprised at this recognition, he prudently endeavored to restrain his feelings. "4 The knave was intoxicated, probably, and intended to amuse himself with your fears. Come, let us walk on,' and get out of this street," he said, sympathizing with the em- barrassment and distress of mademoiselle, and anxious to give her a sense of safety as soon as possible. Edna dared not trust her voice to reply, yet felt the necessity of saying something. Raymond had already taken her by the arm, and she was walking beside him, thankful for the aid, yet mortified to think she needed it. The young man was both amazed and re- joiced; amazed at finding her in such a garb ---rejoiced that he had been so fortunate. He scarcely knew what to do. If at one moment he was tempted to inform her that she was known, at the next, a more sagacious policy prevailed. , Would she remember his voice? Did his disguise perfectly protect him? These questions lie asked more than once. She was confused and weak, but had yet given no sign that she recognized him. She muttered some half-audible words, then, af- fecting to laugh at what had happened, made a brave attempt to speak and act like a boy of fourteen or fifteen; and succeeded, too, beyond Raymond's expectations. "Which way were you cruising, my lad?" Inquired R-tymond, somewhat nautically "Nowhere in particular," answered the seeming boy, promptly. "Just where I was going; so I don't mind if I take a small craft like you in tow," added Raymond, speaking as nautically as possible. "Thank you for an honest mariner; but I shall take the next street that leads toward the Old Barrack, which I know will be very much out of your way." "';Not a bit of it!l I'd as lieves go on that- tack as any other; so I'll jest keep along- side." This friendly offer w is not veryjoyfullyre- ceived by the fictitious lad. It will be per- ceived that Raymond was resolved to find, Mademoiselle Merigny's place of retirement. The mystery connected with her brother, also urged on his curiosity. His fair companion was now le-s anxious to hasten, and was evidently taxing her ihgenuity for a plausible pretext to part company with. the sailor. "Do yon know the petson who followed you?" continued RIaymond, partly for the pur- pose of keeping up the conversation, and part- ly from a desire to fathom Pierre's purpose. "I do' not, although it seems to me that I have heard his voice before." * "When, and under-what circumstances?" It watat Doctor Merigny's. A man came for the doctor. I was in the hall, and heard f him make inquiries. I am not positive; I only say there is a similarity of voice." Mademoiselle was quite firm, but blushed a little as she told this story, which she had somewhat distorted; for she referred to the night when De Villanville had sent for her brother, whose protracted absence followed that circumstance. "Possibly you put asmetrick upon him?" remarked Raymond, carelessly. "No I!" answered Edna, sLarply, with a scornful toss of the head. "I am not that kind of boy ,!" The young man could not repress a smile. He knew well why her white brow crimsoned. "I was looking for a motive, ny lad. I didn't mean to accuse you." ' "You are a strange sailorl" "And you a strange boy!" "What do you mean to say?" asked Edna, startled. "' I mean to say nothing." "You have discovered something," said Edna, looking at him. "Yes; how could I help it?" "Am I, then, so awkward?" exclaimed Ed- na, petulantly. "No, mademoiselle, you are not awkward. But who ever saw such a face beneath a boy's cap, or such hands on a boy's wrists? Made- moirelle, I do not flatter." ' "I am grateful for your efficient aid. Here we must part. Keep my secret." "Your secret is safe. 'But let us not sepa- rate here. Allow me, for my reward, to at- tend you to your residence. ]It is quite dark, and you may again need my arm." "There are reasons why it must not be." "I care not for reasons!" answered Ray- mond, carried away by the impetuosity of his feelings. "I never betrayed one of your sex, and I never will. Can I not see alid be silent?" "There has been more than one discovery this night. Monsieur Raymond, I know you 1" "Mademoiselle Merigny, I hope I lave not offended. I trusted that this disguise would answer its purpose; but since it lhas not, per- laps it is for the best. I will own that I have been anxious, very anxious to see you." "You have watched the house!" exclaim- ed Edna. There was reproof in her tones. "And if I have, it was for no evil purpose," returned Raymond, respectfully. "There are certain questions that I wish to propose to your brother. If the thought of behold- ing yom, also influenced my \actions, I trust my temerity will be pardoned." Edna glanced at him haughtily. "Singular events and coincidences have given me an interest in Doctor Merigny. I shall not be content. till I have seen and con. versed with him. You can assure him, how- ever, that I shall respect my oath'; and what- ever occurs, he may count on my silence. As i for yourself, mademoiselle,'I will not say how 4 much you remind me of one who was'. too good for the earth." "He removed his cap and the red hair that disfigured his head and face. -The gentle moonlight illuminated his handsome features. Edna was about to give an ungracious answer, but the sight of hipnoble countenance and subdued expressiomloftened her purpose. "This is not a becoming garb for- me, Monsieur Raymond, neither is the time suit- able for the discussion of serious matters." "At least, extend to min the hope that I may again see you. Your presence itself, is a solace for sorrow. You will not deny me this consolation?" "Leave me, Monsieur Raymond. Trust all to chance. Be assured that everything will happen that is destined to happen. I have Doctor Paul; he satisfies my heart. I have no room for another friendship." She paused, and wondered what made her heart beat faster. "Speak on, mademoiselle. My boldness merits rebuke." "Nay, I will not rebuke you. Remain where you are till I have turned yonder cor- ner." "Not yet!-not yet!" remonstrated Ray- mond. ." I cannot part with you so soon. Forgive the importunity of a stranger. Some- thing impels me to ask why you have fled from home?-why you have bidden yourself from the world?" "I do all this for Doctor Paul. It was his wish that I should share his living burial. I could dbny him nothing. But every day he is-dividing his love';. it is flowing in a silent, yet deep stream upon another. He is no less kind, no less thoughtful; but I know that his soul is Theresa's." Mademoiselle Merigny appeared to forget that she had an auditor; but recollecting herself, was vexed at the freedom of her ex- pressions. "Theresa?" repeated Raymond. "Who is she?" "You ask too much, returned Edna. "I cannot betray the secrets of Paul. "I can tell you that she is fair; that her beauty out- shines the morning star; that she is a lily among women, white, pure, entrancing." "Mademoiselle," answered the young man, with a, subdued humility that disarmed the pride of Edna," I know of but one such as you describe. I dare not name her, and will not." "Do not!" responded Edna, quietly, again deigning to look at'the pale, melancholy face of Raymond. "I know where presumption should stop." "You mean me no ill," said mademoiselle, in a more kindly tone," and it were ungra- ci6us in me to be offended. I could more justly be vexed with myself for being found in this unbefitting garb, an4dfor lingering so long in the street to converse with one com- paratively unknown to me. But I cannot forget that I owe you much consideration for your kind efforts in behalf of Paul, when Ih was so strangely absent." This was spoken with peculiar grace and sweetness. "Mademoiselle, you are too good. Youu words have brought us again to your brother. I know that his life was attempted, and that he is supposed to be dead. My solemn prom- ise I have kept, and will; yet, for various important reasons, I desire to know what place he last visited before that assault, and if he has any names in his possession that will lead, directly or indirectly, to the dis- covery of the guilty parties. I canpot ex- press the interest I feel in this matter " "What Doctor Paul did not inform you, you need not expect to hear from me. I would gladly impart what you ask, i4 grati- tude to your friendship; but I dare not whis- per, even in the seclusion of my own roonm, that startling mystery. I have been true to Paul, thus far, but Heaven only knows how long I may be patient with him. He mutters in his sleep of carriers and bricklayers." "Carriers and bricklayers!" cried Ray- mond, involuntarily. "You, too, are getting nervous, monsieur." "I beg of you to proceed. What did he say of carriers and bricklayers?" ' I am terrified at my indiscretion I 1 shall soon prove unworthy to be trusted with anything of importance. Monsieur Raymond, stand where you are, and do not move till I have disappeared around yonder corner. My commands shall keep you in abeyance no longer than that. I expect that my wishes will be respected." She turned from him and hurried away. He would have attempted to shake her reso- lution, but she gave liim no opportunity for farther appeals. He felt that it would be dishonorable to follow till she had reached the designated point; so he strained his eyes' after her graceful figure till she flitted around the corner. There was a momentary debate in his mind whether he was then at liberty to pursue 'her; but it was of short duration, and was decided in the affirmative. 'CHAPTER XXIlI. "STENERS HEAR NO GOOD OF THEMSELVrES Raymond ran to the corner and along the street in which Edna had disappeared. He could not see her, but knew she could not page: 64-65 (Illustration) [View Page 64-65 (Illustration) ] have gone far during the time that had elaps- ed. Seeing a lane at his right, he inferred she must have taken that direction"; BO he went that way, and by his nimbleness atoned for his temporary hesitation. Arriving, at where the lane-terminated in a street,. he heard a door open, and looking diagonally across the way, caught a glimpse of some one enter- ing a house; but the action was so quick, the, time occupied by it so brief, that the vanish- ing figure left no defined impression on his' mind. It might have been Mademoiselle Merigny or the most dissimilar person in the world; but the mere fact of seeing some one enter at that particular, crisis, and with evi- dent haste, inspired him. with the hope that he had really. made, a 'disovery. He soon stood opposite the dwelling, which was large, for the period, gloomy in appear- anie, and unquestionably quite isolated. Raymond surveyed it philosophically. Of all the houses in that vicinity, without doubt, he reasoned, that was best adapted for the doctor's purpose, It was old, and, somewhat gone to decay; it was dismal and undesirable as a home-the very reasons why the 4octor would choose it as a place of temporary ob- livion. Like Merigny, it will be seen, that Ra mvnd was logical., - He watched, thinking he might see a glim-. mer of, light; but saw not so much as the evanescent flash of a fire-fly, from the dim windows. Some wooden stcps lId to the doo'r; these he questioned. Thpre had been a recent fall of rain, and the streets were still wet in spots. By a close inspection of the steps,. Ilhe found on one of them .the imprint of- a foot, bsmll and feminine; it was traced, in water, and faded while lie looked at it. There was nothing to hinder him from walking quite around the house, and he did so. He had' some expeetation of seeing the friendly gleam of a taper; whch would inform him which room was occupied by Mademoiselle Merigny, if-she it was who had entered. He was again disappointed. He looked at the windows a -long time, pacing slowly to and fro. -It had been growing darker; a circum- staice w*hich he-had not noticed. Presently, large drops of rain fell on his face. The en- trance to the rear of the building was through a low porch, the door of which stood ajar. As tho rain was every moiment farlling faster, he 'did not hesitate, to avail .himseif of this shelter. He went in, and heard the waters pattering metrily over hip head. The young man had been there but a little while, when. he remarked some thread-like rays of light creeping' into the 'darkness of the porch. A closer examination 'showed that it came from :beneath - door, and through a crack in one of the, lower panels. - To the lattr, Raymond applied hi' eyes,. The r)om into which he looked was obviously used for domestic purposes; inthe middle of it, how- ever, sat Doctor Merigny, in a pensive atti* tude,. while. the smallest possible taper was burning faintly on a brick hearth, where it had undoubtedly been placed to keep it from being seen from without. -While our hero was contemplating this pie- ture, Edna herself appeared in the dim back- ground. She no longer wore the garments of a lad,' but a becoming wrqiper.' Raymond's' first emoteons were those of pleasure, but when he reflected upon his situation, it was essentially depreciated by shame; for it was new to him to take tho character of an eavesdropper and a spy upon the actions of others. He dared not move, lest an inaavertent step should alarm those with- in; so he remained where he was, trembling for fear' his very respiration should betray him. How beautiful was Edna! She was a dream of liceaven- An incomparable, angelic crea- ture. Her presence chained him to the spot It was not' till she began to speak that he again realized the embarrassment of his po- sition. He ought not to listen; he should stop his ears and shut his eyes. He had not the power' to do either; or, if he had the power, he 'had not" the courage. The idea of movement implied that of discovery; which,to a man so much in love as Raymond, was not to be thought of, under circumstances so well calculated to lessen her esteem, for him. '"Well, my sister!"' said Merigny, starting from his reverie.' "I have 'returned," said Edna, "but not without adventure." "Were you,-did' any one dare?"Doctor Paul half arose from hisochair. "Yes; some one dared to follow me." "Who was he? -Where may I find him? The ihnolent shall account for this!"The doctor left his seat like one who was immedi- ately'going Out. "' But lie'receiveda great blow," added Ed- na, ",and was prostrated to thp earth." "That is something, but not enough. WhaS 'happy fellow came to your aid?" "A red-alired sailor." "A' red-haired sailor!" repeated Doctor Paul, laiughiing. "That blunts the edge of the .romance. He should have been a fine- looking gallant." "-I wil change him if you wish, Paul. What will, you have, him?".said Edna, play. fully. "A stray young prince or a bankrupt lord." "You 'shall have neither. What say yon to Monsieur Raymond?" It may be Heliieved that Raymond was now all attention. His heart beat so hard that he page: 66-67[View Page 66-67] feared its blows might be heard by made- moiselle. \ "Monsieur Raymond!" said the doctor. "How could a red-haired sailor be that young gentlemen?" *Let him take off his red hair and whisk- ers," answered the young lady, with compo- sure.. "Most singular! IYou surprise me much. This young man seems determined to be con- nected with our affairs. Do you know that his face reminds me of some one? He looks like the De Villanvilles." "He is to be trusted, I think," returned Edna. -Raymond thanked her in his heart for those friendly words. "I have his solemn pledge-: I feel safe so far as he is concerned. But I hate a Do Vil- lanville" 1 Raymond heard this with secret terror. He was glad that he had. not revealed to Made- moiselle Merigny his family name. "It is a name with terrible associations," said the latter," but a fancied resemblance cannot affect Monsieur Raymond." "Certainly not. The innocent should never suffer for the guilty. By the way, this De Villanville has a son at a Northern college, whom I have heard spoken of as a young man of high and chivalrous character. May I never meet him!" "For his sake, Paul, ought you not to pause, and let justice sleep?" Raymond's faculties reeled with amazement. What words were those just dropped from those fait lips? Why should "justice slum- ber?" Justice and crime were associated to- gether. Where had been the crime? Ray- mond's consciousness shrank from answering the question. The broken fragments of Inys. tery that he had collected, from time to time, took more significant forms and made him tremble.- Crime in connection witl -the De Villanvilles! What was it? How came Doc- tor Merieny within the circle of the evil deed? He f it his hopes dropping away one by one. The charm that Edna had east upon his life must be broken: 'tI have had moments of relenting," replied Doctor Paul, "but when I think of the re- morseless cruelty of that man, I dare not avert the vengeance of violated law. Think of the bricklayeir's story." ' "I had rather not, Paul. I should hear the sound of a trowel to-night in my dreams. -I prefer to think of my hero. He has a noble countenance; Doctor Paul." "Be careful, Edna, be careful!" cried the doctor; "I see what will happen. You are a going to love him." "I am glad you have told me; I did not a know it. I am sure you will love him as well t - as I 'do Theresa. His manly beauty is equal to her girlish charms." Edna quietly seated herself opposite Paul; and watehed the changes of his countenance. Raymond thought she spoke of him with too much calmness to give much encouragement to his hopes. "He who robs me of your affections, is my enemy," said Merigny, gravely. "No one shall step between us." "There is one between us, now; your doll, brother Paul." "Her lovelinesi should disarm your jeal- ousy," returned the doctor, seriously. "How can you look at her and entertain such feel. ings?" "She is a lily .among women. But I warn- ed you! Take care ot her, Paul, for I will not be answerable for her safety much longer." She spoke like one too much in earnest.. "You cannot mean this, Edna? An angel could not make me believe that you would harm her. But this romantic young man, who goes about in disguise to watch you; Is another affair. Give him-the slightest encouragement, 'and I swear to iou, I'll call him out!" A heavy frown gathered upon the brow of Doctor Paul. "He has not asked for encouragement; that is, not directly." Edna looked down at the little taper on the hearth, and wondered if there was a little flame in her bosom flickering and fluctuating like that. . - "But he will!" interposed her brother, quickly. "He cannot help it, unless he be a stupid blockhead. You, told him, probably, where to find you.. It's a miracle if you did not let him follow you) home. Possibly he is lurking around the house. If I hear a noise in the night, I shall fire." "It's a bad night to be lurking, Paul; the rain is falling in torrents. Be content with Theresa, and don't shoot my lovers." Raymond's face wat wet with perspiration, but the descending drops did not cool the burning sensation in his cheeks. What strange matters. he had heard discussed, and how little right he had to hear I "Let there be an arnistice till morning," nnswered Doctor Paul\ presently. "Banish the image of this manJ dear. Love me, and that will be enough fyou. Good-night." "Bahish the image of this girl. Love me; that will 'be enough for you. Good-night, Doctor Paul." Merigny was leaving the room, when Edna added: "Stop a moment. Is this door bolted?" She. advanced to the door; and, to Raymond's consternation, lifted the latch and held it ajar an instant.- A current of-air rushing through the aperture, fortunately extinguished the page: 68-69[View Page 68-69] taper. She hastily shut the door and bolted it. Raymond heard them groping their way to their respective apartments; and, rising from. his cramped position, rushed away in the darkness. CHAPTER XXIV.. Too MANY. The c riositv of Pierre was excited by see- ing a youth so readily gain access where oth- ers had failed; and it was this that ind/eed him to follow when he reappeared. The fact that the seeming boy quickened his pace as he approached, but inflamed his desire to overtake him. When he had accomplished this, the terror and trepidation of Edna quick- ly betrayed!er sex. Knowing that Doltor Merignly had a sister, Pierre at once conclud- ed that it was her hie had thus surprised. .For the purpose of increasing her fears, and mak- ing her more submissive to the inquisitionhe ' intended to subject her, he made use of the language quoted in a previous chapter. The idea of being taken before a magistrate in those unbecoming. habiliments. he believed to be sufficiently revolting to humble her pride, and compel her to answer faithfully such ques- tions as he might propose.. Butthe blow that felled him, frustrated his design in a most vex atious and humiliating manriner. When he arose, with a confused and aching head, his anger was thoroughly aroused. -With all sorts of maledictions and objurgations, he renewed ,the pursuit. The masquerading mademoiselle and her hero not being visible on the street that had been. the scene of his discomfiture, he turned into the first he came to; and, after runn ing a few rods, had the indescribable sat,- isfaction to discover them. It was not likely tht a man of Pierre's character would fail to improve such an opportunity; nor did he. He was soon near enough t, see that he owed his downfall to a sailor-providing the garb were indicative of his calling. When Raymond and MNldemoiselle Merigny finally paused before separating, Pierre took a mental inventory of the former's externals, from .his tarpaulin to his pumps, and was con- fident he should know his man wherever he maight encounter him. Pierre was not'near enough to hear their conversation, but was of the opinion that the sailor was love-making, and pronounced him au audacious scamp. Whllen Raymond had remained standing the prescribed time, and followed Edna, Pierre was no less on the alert to follow him. He *saw him approah and examine the dismal house,and adroitly keeping himself sufficient. ly in the background to avoid being seen, saw or guessed at hllis after-movemits, and did nob leave the spot till Raymond rushed away in the darkness, full of distracting thoughts. Pierre, not having entered thelporch, heard nothing of ,that interview between Doctor Paul and his sister, which bad so wrought upon the imagination of the young mnan, but had stood in the drenching rain, wet to the skin, but kept warm by his resentment. It was now difficult to trace the winding course of the young man, who hurried on, seemingly without any destination in view. P. ierre finally lost track of him, in spite of his cunning, and proceeded toward his lodging in a feverish and dissatisfied state of mind. He had' a vague and, to him, novel presenti. ment, that danger was gathering about him. So much did this Work upon him, that he de- termined to play the last cards in his hand. "It is time," muttered he, " to steal the golden egg and be gone, I will rob the silly bird, and away. I remember madame's eyes; I cannot forget the chill that made me slahiver all day. I lhave been such an excellent finan- cier, that it will take me but a few days to gather together everything in an available form, then we will- see if ' my son Raymondi will be rich!' He who plays with Pierre Le- reau must play fair, for he keeps a pack in his sleeve. De Villanville was too kind. A few mornings since, he said: ' My friend.' When a proud De Villanville. calls me his ' friend,'! know it is time to b looking out for myself. Let me see; the nimber of con- fidants and accomplices are supposedto be pruned down to thr e-monsieur, madame, and'myself. They wanted the doctor out o, the way, because there were foo many ; they secretly desired the same fate for Jean Louis, the bricklayer, because there were too many; they are planning the same compliment for me, because there are too many. There will always be too many until monsieur and mad- ame alone hold these dark secrets in their possession. What if I should say ' there are too many,' and begin with madame? How would that work? - After madame, monsieur ; then there would not be ' too many.' Hold! there is Raymand:; but he knows nothing of all this. Yet there is the property, which lihe would be embarrassed without. He is very sharp, and seems to be to the whole family what a ferret is to rats. In fact, the young man appears determined to run into the holes wthere the family secrets are.- He frightens them both. Let toe amend the suppositions programme: t'irst, madame; second, mon- sieur; third, Raymond. Thatleaves me, the dupe, the tool, the hireling-the villain to let to the first proud, avaricious,^wicked aristo- crat that wants lhim. They think of me in that way. Yes, I am looked upon as a yield- ing fool, who, for a little money flung to me as one scatters grain to birds, is willing to commit crime for the sake of making a spend- thrift of their son. What matters to me whether the young buzzard goes from his nest ,tleaged or unfledged? Am I not a man, too? Have'I not claims on the world? Will it not be as pleasant for me to spend a fortune as for another? Of all the shallow fools, he is the most shallow who engages another to en- rich him by complicit in crime,; .for the ac- cqmplice from that moment becomes more than an equal partner, and holds the knife to his employer's throat." ' The further Pierre pursued this theme, the more intense became his indignation, His thoughts grew darker than the gloom of the cloudy heavens over his head. It was in this mood that he came upon Jude Schwartz, who was sitting upon a curibstone, his back against a lamp-post. and his eyes closed in a Bound sleep. His cart was close at hand. His h6rse, detached from the shafts, was fastened to one of the wheels, eating provender from a box designed for a more grave use. . Pierre sto pped and looked at Schwartz. "I don't know," he muttered, ",but here's another too many!" His eyes-rested on a bottle lying beside the carrier, and the sight of it seemed highly 'suggestive. Pierre took up the bottle, re- moved a cork, and applied the nozzle to his nose. It contained just what he supposed- spirit. I "It's a beast." added Pierre, glancing at Jude with loathing, " thatisn't wanted. Why should such a heartless monster exist? It is times he were trundled away in his own cart. The disgusting knave riots in death; let him have enough of it. Let him, go to the black mud of the swamp!" Some kind of a liquid trickled through Pierre's fingers into the bottle; the anet did not consume much time, for the bottle was back again where he found it, within the brief measure of a few seconds. " "Tiere!" added Pierre. "May you find somebody to do for you, Jude Schwartz, what you have done for so many; that's the worst wish I wish you, you unclean spirit!" Pierre Lereau passed on; and to cool the fire that burned within him, and to satisfy a natural curiosity, directed his way to the 4ld Barrack. His hasty, unequal strides soon overcame the distance. He stood where he had bee. more than a year ago, on an errand of no common import. There was Jean Lou- is' cottage; but Jean was not sitting at the door, as on' that occasion. Tie windows were dark, and there was a piece of black crape tiel to the door-knob. Pierre passed around the dwelling, listening at every corner and window for some sign of life-the respiration of a sleeper, the unconscious moan, the un- witting change frem side t, side; but none of these things were heard. There was the peculiar air of a desolate and vacan t house. Assured on this point, Pierre tried the door: it wais lockled. After knocking loud enough to awaken the Seven Sleepers, he put his shoulder against it, and burst it open. Producing materials from his pocket, he struck a light. The first thing he saw was a spot of blood, on the floor. Although he hailed this memento as an evidene of a fatal wound, it inspired him with secret dread. As he held up the roll of lighted paper, which enabled him to make his observations, he asked himself if it were not possible that he should see the ghost of Jean Louis starting out of the background, prointing with an aj- cusing finger to the stab that let out his life t He slowly opened the door to the room which Catholina had occupied. There was a medicinal smell there, which recalled to Pierre the mysterious sickness at De Villanville's. While he stared into the bare apartment and at the silent walls, his paper torch burned down to his fingers and went out. Afraid ot the darkness, he ran from the cottage, and closed the door with a trembling. hand. He did not remain long at the Old Barrack, bt hurittried away, with a mystic awe upon him. CHAPTER XXV. A -PRIEST OR A DOCTOR. Pierre intended to go to his new lodginge, but nothing is more mutable than the human mind, and so he changed his purpose, and turned his face toward De Villanville's. Am- rived there, he found Joseph, the coachman, in great distress. This useful person was taken ill while returning from a nocturnal walk, and was at that time rolling about oB some straw in the stables, in a grievous state of bodily disquietude. PJerre, in answer to his friendly inquiries, extorted at first but groans andy lamentations; and not being cel-' ebrated for patience, soon exhausted the little he had. and informed Joseph that if he per- sisted in tumbling about in such a clownish fashion, he should leave him to -take care of himself. This- brought the man to reason, and he began to use his tongue in a more co- herent manner. ' You had better go for a priest," he said. "A doctor would be more to the purpose," answered Pierre. "It's too late for a doctor, except a doctor for the soul!" groaned Joseph. "Don't be a fool! Tell me what you've, been doing, and where you've been. . smell' Spirit, Joseph, and, in my opinion, you'r drunk.', "I've done nothing, except taking a little turn about the city. It being so dull and lone- some here-everybody having gone but mon- sieur and madame-I couldn't content myself at home. A body must have exercise, Pierre. After I had walked about an hour or two, to -ee if anybody was left that I knew, I started page: 70-71[View Page 70-71] hack again, but hadn't gone far when I grew sick and was seized with a dreadful pain in imy stomach. It's the plague, Pierre, and there's no help for itl" - -4 Stop, Joseph! Not so fast! Did you cat anything during your scroll?" "* Not a mouthful!" gasped the coachlman. "Did you drink anything?" "Yes; I found an old pequaintane, and I took a friendly drink with him from his bottle. Ah I Pierre, if there was nothing more the matter with me than that, I should be a happy man 1" "Oh I you drank with an old acquaint- anee!" exclaimed the other, witlh new inter- est. "His name is Schwartz. He used to be a coachman, like myself; but now hle drives a dead-cart, and has a canvas bag full of mon- ey. Oh! oh I there is fire inside me'! Wa- ter-water!" "So you fraternized with that low wretch, and tippled fromn his detestable bottle!" said Pierre, shrugging his shoulders. "I should'nt wonder if he carries the pestilence in that same bottle. You should have kept the width of a street between yourself and Jude Schwartz. 'Those filthy carriers reek with disease."- "Don't stand talking, but run for a priest. There are things on my mind that worry me." "What things?" asked Pierre, quickly. "My confession is for a priest, not for you. Besides, I have my doubts. I know nothing with absolute certainty, hut, in my opinion, there has been wrong doings. I can't die easy till I have lightened my conscience. I have kept dark when I ought to have spoken, and given up my place. You know very well, Pierre, that I have loved money too well, and so have you.?' 'Joseph partially lifted himself from the straw, and, wiping the icy drops from his brow, stared wildly at Pierre, by the light of the dim stable-lantern hanging by a hook above him. "Hush I These are the ravines of pain and delirum. Quiet yourself. We'll have a doctor, and cure you in no time." "My master and mistress are not what they used to be," resumed the coachman, still writhing and moaning. They have changed greatly since De Noyan disappeared. . Went away strangely, did their ,relative. Who knows where he went? There was something said about fever; but the fever don't burn up the body, does it? If one dies of fever, there6s sometliing left to biurys isn't there?" Pierri Lereau shrank from Joseph's glassy stare. - "De Noyan," he answered, uneasily, died rom home I believe. e, doubtlss. shared the fate of the unknown dead. Who, think you, would open the trenches to find his body?" - "That won't do-that won't do!" cried Joseph, in a manner that startled Pierre. "You know more than that. There was mys- tery-a great deal of mystery at that time. De Villanville has been troublhd, nhd-he always will be. Then there was the young woman, his daughter. She died by inches a long time, and finally died with the fever. Now, wasn't it strange that both should die of fever, with a year between their deaths? They hurried her into the ground. I tell you, I must have a priest!" "I'll confess yon," answered Pierre, who was becoming terribiv nervous, "You? Ha, ha You, indeed! The devil will drink holy water when you turn confessor. As H said, I know nothing for cer- tainty; but I have not been hoodwinked; I could sec a little. I could:lee the shadow ox a hidden hand, and the half-faded lines ox writing on the wall. Sometimes I was nfraid. Wailing and strange noises floated out to the stables, I sometimes fancied, froni the vaults, when the nights were very dark. But these were dreams .-nothing but dreams. Then there was the doctor, who hasn't been seen since that night the coach broke down. Cursed be gold, Pierre! It makes one's conscience deaf, and dumb, and blind. Alas, this pain! Pierre, are you going for the priest? Do you want me to die dark and unconfessed? Don't you see' how I suffer?" "You'll be better, by-and-by!" sneered Pierre, whose evil disposition was now com- pletely aroused. . He no longer wanted a doctor for Joseph. He considered it the luckiest thing in the world that he had been the first to find him. He reflected upon the possible consequences if the coachman had unburdened his suspicions to one less'-inter- ested. Chance seemed to play into his hand, and he exulted in it. "You shall have a doctor and a priest, good Joseph. You shall have that ugly stuff off your stomach antl off your mind. Long before morning you will find relief. These foul fancies will fly, Joseph. But if you should be so unfortunate -as to slip through our fingers, Joseph, Jude Schwartz shall bte spoken to. - What is left of you shall visit the mud beds of the swamp. I will fol- low you niyself, with black gloves." Thle wick in the lantern gleamed down on the ghastly face of Joseph, who lifted himsell spasmodically, till Pierre thought he would actually get upon his feet. "Are you mocking me, Pierre? Have my vagaries frightened you 9 You won't be so cruet as to forsake me? No one can be so,cruel as to leave a dying man, I must f have ne ast consolations of religion. Go, man, go-if you hope for salvation " Joseph's voice was shrill with pain and dread. "I'm' going, Joseph-going I The haste that I shall make will surprise you. I should feel miserable it you should chance to die with anything on your mind." Pierre's voice was cold, cunning, and re- morseless; but the torture of Joseph, togeth- er with his anxiety for his immortal part, prevented him from noticing Pierre's man- ner. "Take the fleetest horse in the stables," he said, "and ride as if a soul depended on your speed." "Never mind the horse, my friend," re- plied Pierre. o There feet of mine are very reliable. You shall soon hear them flying up the street. Ha, ha, Joseph!" Did Pierre laugh? Joseph thought he did. Laughter was horrible at such a time! Whether Pierre laughed or not, he closed the ponderous stable-doors, and locked them. The coachman heard the grating clash of the bolt as it went home, and wondered why his fellow-servant took that extraordinary pre- caution. He -fell back upon his straw, Very weak. For a few moments, his consciousness wats vague; but when his fluctuating facul- ties revived, the racking pain had subsided. His mind grew clear. He remembered what he had said to Pierre, and recalled, too, with fidelity, the deportment of the latter, with the peculiar emphasis o0 his concluding re- joinders. A ray of light streamed in upon his flickering life. He put a hundred cir- cumstances together in an instant. The truth that Pierre would not return-that he hadloacked him there to die alone, was as clear to his apprehension as if that individ- ual had told him so without ambiguity. The conviction, at first, was overpowering; for he realized his inability to escape.- There were windows, it is true, but he had not strength to reach. them. Terror soon gave : place to another emotion-indignation ;. and this feeling grew upon him so rapidly, that it soon affected every part of him, attaining the vehemence of rage, which acts upon the hu- man constitution like a powerful tonic. "He has shut me up," muttered Joseph, ' to die - hour absolution. But I will live! I'll disappoint the cold-blooded knave I I said things in my pain that frightened him. Pain knows no prudence; the fear of death disarms caution. Oh, if I could live!" Joseph dragged himself to the tank where water was kept for the horses, and drank greedily. The draught extinguished the fire within him.' A wonderful quietude soothed f his frame; but one strong feeling remained -resentment against Pierre. He lay stretch, 1 ' ^ I ed beside the tank a brief time, not - knowing whether this relief portended life or death. Presently he arose, fell, arose again, and by grasping objects within reach, steadied him- sell He dragged a small ladder to a window, with infinite toil. He consuded much time in plaeing it upright,.and more in mounting it. Every sound made him faney that Pierre was coming back, to find him alive instead of dead, as he hoped to see him. He was per- suaded that violence would rob him of what life remained. If the horses moved their iron feet; if they pushed their provender about in their cribs; if the wind shook the doors, Joseph could only thinlk of Pierre. He reached a window, he poised himself in it, he drew up the ladder, and lowered it upon the outside, then descending with fee- ble strength, drew it down and pushed it in- to the river. - CHAPTER XXVI. PIERRE LEREAU HAS A PURPOSE. Pierre Lereau reached Dauphine street, quite satisfied with the concluding part of his night's adventures. Joseph had been used as an instrument on various occasions, and Pierre had been disposed to consider him an accommodating dupe, with an easy con- science, which, like a weather-vane, would turn to any quarter at the first breath of gain. ie had, at times, suspected him of A knowing too much; but the coachman's care- less manner and persistent silence had dis- armed his suspicions. It was all right now, however. Joseph had taken his last drink, and was suffering the pains of dissolution. In the morning he would be found, cold and stiff, on the straw. Such were his reflections as he cast himself upon his bed. Then came remembrances of the sailor and Mademoiselle Merigny. Ho resolved to explore and learn the mystery of that gloomy house, whither, he believed, he had traced the latter. He would know what it contained, and whom. ; The next day he affected a stealthy en- trance into a vacant tenement, opposite the dwelling about which he was so much exer- cised. He watched until sunset, and saw nothing to reward his vigil. The shutters remained closed, and the street-door was not once opened. If any one went out during the time of his surveillance, they must have left by a rear door, and flitted away toward the .Old Barrack, to avoid ob- servation. Though disappointed, Pierre was not dis- couraged. He decided upon a bolder, more decisive expedient. Waiting till night was far advanced, he procured a ladder, which he carried a long distanee on his shoulder through unfrequented streets and lanea, till page: 72-73 (Illustration) [View Page 72-73 (Illustration) ] he reiahed the theatre o' operation's. AfterI some mental debate respeeting hvailability, he finidally placed thfie ladder to a- back win- dow. He mobinted slowly, 'and not without anx- iety.: -He was ,a4are thbat 'he was incur- rg n trin g no risk. Should he be discoVer- ed, any otive but the 'right orie would be attributed to him;,'but after proceeding so far, he itnt6nded to Oeethe 'adenture conclud- ed. t Reaching the window-sill, he listened be- fore trusting his heid above it; hearing no- thing, 'he took qorage., With I a chisel he pried up the window, and raised it to the de-: sired height. Tho'shutters were still closed, but were readily pushed open. After re- maining 'quiet a few moments, -to see if his movements had excited any disturbance, he stepped from the ladder into the house, and found himself in complete darkness. Silence still prevailing,' he drew a dalrk-tantern from his pocket, and, unmasking it, turned its bright focus carefully without the room; it was vacant of human life, 'and everything else, save dust, cobwebs, and a few crippled arti- dles of antique furniture. ., Pierre opened thie first do6r lhe eate to, anid entered an upper hall or corridor. Thus far, he had'seen nothing, to indicate that the plade hiad inmates ; buitnow, closing his Ian- tern, and looking along the space before him,'he saw a ray of light streaming. frifi fa door 'slighitly ajar. ' To this srri of liiuman pt6es6nie he cautiously 'iftahced. Ite now made a discovery tfiat satisfied -ome of his doubts. He saew Matidemboiselle 'e'rigny en deshabille, sitting at a table, reading by the light of a wax candle, Pierre iw's fa;ori-d with 'a good view of her face aind'person. He had seen her 'caisually before, but not in :a a/aniner to imnpress, hi witlh her' beauty; now It burst upon hi'm like i 'soft and glori- OUB suhist. Villairi'as'e- was,lie couid not eo'timplate the pleasing pictiioe without emotiop. He was unwilling 'to turn from a' viiion so attractive, and sto,6 there some miiutes, held by the enchantment of Edna. Haid jie seen 'those eves, her white slihoulders would have crimsoned,'aid her cheeks flush- ed with maiden fear. - With a bitter' regret for the unatainable; Pierre resumed his explorations, which had thus far been satisfactory. Wo light stramed: beneath the next dbor, which hi but a ffw, ipaees fromi the other, and which he felt 'a strong desire to open. It was nof' looked; it yielded gradually to his manipulations He listooed, and hedrthng nothiing to' excite' dlstrust, opened his lantern. There were Various objects in the room, but he saw but, one, aad his eyes' rested on that With?/ in-; -.. idulity 'ah. terror tuat Itffie de'cription. I His limbs Shook beneath him, his eyes dilated, and his respiration was for an inst'int suspend- ed. The spectadle that so wrougliht upon Pierre was Catholina, calmly sleeping the sleep of innocence and beauty. Tranquillity and peace were nmirrored on her reposing features. Her breathing was so soft, ,tlat she scarcely seemed to live. To Pierre, the snowy white- n'es of her face looked like death-but death exalted aindglorified. Pierre was idisposed to consider this not a reality, but a supernatural eXhibition to reliuke him for his sins. He re- treated, shuddering: but not till he had shut his eyes, and leaned a little while against the wall, could he summon surlcient strength to fly from the house. He glided, tremling, from the corridor, -with clhilled blood and awed spirit. It was wonderful that lie lhad pres- ence of mind enough to escape from the house without creating a general alarm; but the ever-present instinct of cunning did not entirely desert him. He groped from the- window and down the ladder in some, man- ner, he could not tell exactly what; but as soonas'h e reached the ground, he ran away as fast a's- he could. Exercise and the cool air sooin began to restore him.'so lie stopped to think. lHe recollected that he had left the ladder against the house, and the window open; aind retraced his steps to repair the oveirsight.- If! he had consulted -his inclina- tions, he would n6t hadve gone back; for he believed it possible that he might again seo that tinearthly'spectacle. By the time lib reached the house, a .fe qualifying doubts had gained access to his miand and; a wholesome doubt is -the begin- ning of truil, Resollitely shutting his eyes, he mounfited the lacdder, closed the shutterv ;and th6 window, miade a precipitate des,Ilt, and-felt;tliathe htad acted discreetly. Car. rying the ladder toward the neighlor'hood iof the Old Barra'ck, lhe, hid it behind a fei;ee. 'and started for Dauphine street, his nervoue system greatly disturbed. Arrived there, and safely shut in, with his Iamp lighted, the doubt which has been men- tioned began to assume the dimensions of plausibility. The dead, he reasoned, seldom revisit the earthD. Ghosts are usually consid- ered things of the imagination. -He-Pierre -had never seen a ghost. Disembodied creatures must be very rare. They were uni- vershly scoffed at, while secretly held in ter- ror, by mankind. He considered the manner of C(Atholina's death. 'Her'sudden seizure by fever, and her decease wiithin the -space of a few hours, were matters ' ow mentally dissected by lha thoughtful Pierre. - Then there was. the cir- cumstance of the'two carriers, which had ever: ben 'satisfactorily accounted for. Was it' nt mo-ei prbbable, he asked himself, that page: 74-75[View Page 74-75] Catholina had escaped through the agen- cy of Doctor Merigny, than that she had come back, a " dim-sheeted ghost," to haunt him? These cogitations, while they calmed hi-s superstitious fears, excited others of a more worldly character. If Merigny had baffled the assassin, and Still lived, he plain- ly perceived that there would be a grand de- nouement at no very distant period. Pierre drank copious draughlts of brandy, and set forth for his master's chateau, with a fixed purpose in his mind. CHAPTER XXVII. RAYMOND BECOMES DECISIVE. The day spent by Pierre Lereau in watch- ing the old mansion near the Barracks, was passed by Raymond De Villanville mostly in his room, in serious meditation. By ten o'clock the following morning, he had decid- ed upon a somewhat bold step. Hle went di- rectly to the place where he had last seen Mademoiselle Merigny, and standing before the identical door which had opened to re- ceive her on that eventful night, he knocked determinedly, nnd waited for a response. No one came, and hle renewed the knoeking, re- s&l1ed not to suspend his efforts till he had obtained the usual answer to such demands. After a long delay, a woman came; it was Suzanne, though quite unknown to Raymond. "*You have been making a great noise," she said. "Go away at once, and do not dis- turb us more. We are very quiet people, and have no visitors." ,' I beg your pardon. Inform Mademoi- selle Merigny that one Monsieur Raymond wishes to see her." i Monsieur Raymond must be misinformed. I keep no mademoiselles." Suzanne was about to close- the door, but the young man prevented her: "It will not do, madame. I know that she is here, and I wl not go, till I hate seen her. Forgive my rudeness, but I will not allow this door to be shut. I will stand on this thresh- old till you have delivered my message to the lady." "I will cry for help," threatened Suzanne, "' and my husband will come with a pistol. I never saw such presumption!" "It is not your husband tha I want, mad- ame. I have told you my wishes. Will you compel me to go in and seek her myself?" Raymond pushed open the door, and step- ped across the threshold. Poor Suzanne was bewildered and terrified by this bold behavior. "I shall have to scream!" she said, warn- ingly I "I know there'll be bloodshed. My husband is dreadful savage." At that moment Mademoiselle Merigny her- self appeared. There was a slight flush of resentmentupon her face; she looked haugh- tily at Raymond, who did not flinch, but bowed gravely. "Mademoiselle," he said, * my presumption justly provokes your anger; buit I deemed it ne cessary to see you. I entreat you to favor me with a few moments' conversation." Edna motioned to Suzanne to shut the door, then pointed Raymond to a room at his right. She did not speak; her silence was an eloquent reproof. Her white finger next in- dicated a seat. "Mademoiselle, I dare not sit while your face is clouded with displeasure. I am aware that you desire to live here undisturbed; I know there is a great mysterysover you. . The singular pledge which I gave your brother was, of itself, sufficient to excite suspicion. Mademoiselle Merigny, I have had no peace since I first saw you. Your image has gone with me everywhere. I have been haunted- haunted by you! It was impossible to exist longer without speaking to you. , I resolved That I would not love you longer in secret, but that you should know of the flame your loveliness and amiability has kindled." "And so, monsieur, you take our house by 'storm, to tall; of love!" Edna bit her lip, and her voice was less indignant than Raymond expected it to be. "Is it, then, a crime to love so much as to overleap the conventional barriers of society? Would you have a tame, weak lover? Is iot the genuineness of love to be tested by its daring?" "You bring me, monsieur, what I have not asked for," returned Edna, coldly, quietly seating herself. "I know it!" exclaimed the young man. "I was sure it would be so, but 1 felt that I had no right to love you without telling you of 't. My love might prove a curse to you; ay, it might be like the bite of a serpent." Raymond spoke witlh all the impetuosity of youth and earnestness. Words flowed from his tongue like water;. his eyes glowed with excitement, while his features worked with emotion. "I have Doctor Paul," said Edna, uneasily. "That. is selfish folly!" exclaimed Ray- mond. "He is your Brother. There is a love passing the love of brother--that leaves natural ties infinitely in the distance -that beggars consanguinity-that flies higher than heaven-that overtops all other human sen. timents. It is this passion that transforms me; that fills me with pleasure and with pain; that gives joy and sorrow, hope and despair, ecstasy and agony, while the last is greatest. But you behold my tortures with calmAess, my madness with serenity. Ah, mademoiselle,! thought you had soft pity; that your eyes -would melt withl compassion! page: 76-77[View Page 76-77] The impetuosity of my wooing has confound- ed you."' "Monsieur-monsieur, you do me injustice. I am not the heartless creature you imagine. I do not look, with indifference upon your madness; but, believe me, time will cure it. I have heard that these violent paroxysms do not long endure. Go, good Raymond, go!" Edna was now herself agitated. The com- motion in Raymond's blood had communi- cated to her. "You wound while you attempt Ito heal. You are deceived; my paseion is as lasting as life; it will die only when the vital spark goes out." "Enough!" said Edna, sighing uncon- sciously. "d I have lheard that this tale has been told ever since Adam.- Why should I credit what has been repeated so many times, with so much falsehood? But do you know, monsieur, that you have done wrong in com- ing here? Ought you'not to lhave respected my wishes? Have we not weighty reasons for this retirement, think you?" "What we love we pursue; it is my ex- cuse; Nature furnished it, and I'll seek no other." "Scarcely Nature,' answered Edna; for Nature-is unobtrusive. Yet, Monsieur Ray- mond, I am too much disposed, considering your past liindness, .and making allowances for your condition of mind, to forgive your terrible boldness." How can I thank you for those words?" cried Raymond, joyfully. "Your condescen- sion and goodness fill me with gratitude. How beautiful is woman wlhen she forgives! -how ,ingclic when she is gracious 1 But I have more to tell you; I have deceived you." "So'soon. monsieur?" said Edna, smiling. "4 Y(e; you do not know who I am. I have kept from you a part of my name." ' It is not name, it is character that one should wish to know," replied Edna, evident- ly interested. "True-true! And mine, I trust, made- moiselle, is above reproach. My name is De Villamville." Raymond pronounced this name with a trepidation that was manifest. He wondered what the effect would be upon Mademoiselle Merigny. He remembered tihat conversation, and those mysterious allusions to his family. Edna's face flushed in an instant. The an- nouncement obviously surprised her. There was something akin to consternation in her expressi n. "De Villanville!" she repeated. "It does not please you?' said Raymond, in a melancholy Voice. "t I confess thiat I was not quite prepared- I mean, monsieur, that the name--ertainly, I have no right to be pleased or otherwise," stammered Edna. 6 Perhaps, mademoiselle, the name of De Villanville may bIe unpleasantly fissociated? We sometimes confound a name with adisa- greeable reminiscence. But I am taxing too severely your patience. I must see your brother. There are important reasons why I make this request. He attended one in her last illness who was dear to me. I1wish to question him about that death-scene. Who, save yourself, so beautiful as Catholina V" "A sister, perhaps," faltered Edna. "My cousin," responded Raymond, Sadly. "When last we met, -she was the pearl of girlish beauty. Alas, what is; she now!" "Monsieur De Villanville," returned Edna, in tremulous tones," I sympathize with your grief. Do not insist upon seeing Doctor Paul to-day. Go in peace, and I will refleet on your request, and inform you whether it is best. If yon entertain those. sentiments, for me which you profess to, defer a little to my judgment, and go hence at once." ",But-where, mademoiselle, and when, shall' I again see you?" t "At the house on Dauphine street," an- swered Edna, hurriedly," to-night, an, hour after dark. That should content you, mon- sieur. It is much-it istoo much." "I perceive, mademoiselle,that my name is n6t propitious; ncvertheless, I thank you for your condescension. I leave you, more charmed and enchanted than when I came, although a pensive, foreboding, pain mingles with my hope. You bid me wait, and after so much goodness, I 'cannot but obey. I would that the remaining hours of day were annihilated, and it were already night. Adieu, mademoiselle!" Edna opened the door, and let him out in a singular flutter of haste, then hurried to her chamber, -unnerved and trembling. , CHAPTER XXYIII. ?IERRE ARRANGES MATTERS. By the time Pjierre Ler:au reached the chateau, he was prepared to meet monsieur and madame, whenever the course of events might throw him in their way. He quietly gained access to the house, and silently busied himself until morning. He ransacked various desks, 'chests, drawers, placing sealed packages in a smnall trunk, or concealing them about his person. A massive iron coffer was finally unlocked, ,and a casket of. diamonds, some rouleaux of gold, together with bank- notes to a large amount, were also transferred to the trunk. All this was done deliberate- ly, and with a scrupulous regard to method. Having, packed his little repository very neat- ly, helocked it with an odd looking key, which he put into his pocket. This trunk he carried to his sleeping-room, and deposited in a closet at t',e head of his blied. Having done this, he pushed the bed against the closet-door, and laid his scheming head upon the pillow, to sleep or wateh till moruing. He might have drowsed, but his frequent starts and moans proved that, he did not sleep soundly. He had an interview with De Villanville and madame at an early hour. We have waited your coming anxiously," said monsieur, "and have deferred going to the country on account of your absence. What discoveries have you made? Is all as it shouild be, friend Pierre?" "Monsieur, all is right. You have nothing to fear. Merigny will never come back. You can eo into the country'with mind at rest. I have watched that house night and day. Besides, another body has been found several miles below. It was cast upon the shore, dark and swollen. Monsieur, I could have given information, but I did not; I kept my secret." "You feel positively certain?" queried De illa'nville, with earnestness. "There cannot be a doubt. You can join your son in the country, with no distracting fears to follow you." "You relieve me of a weight of apprehen- sion. Pierre, you have been very devoted, and you shall not be forgotten. Madame "- hle turned to his wife.-" is it not singular that Raymond has not written? We should have heard from him daily." "Monsieur must remember that hunting and fishing have irresistible attractions for a young gentleman like Raymond," interpos- ed Pierre. "Very true," said madame. "The poor boy has been so much confined at college, that he will feel disposed to make the most of this freedom from restraint. Philip, we will go to-morrow. Pierre is so faithful, we may trust everything to him. If we should lose Pierre, we should never find another to fill his place." Madame De Villanville glanced kindly at her invaluable servant, who gratefully bowed his acknowledgment of her goodness. i tPierre," responded De Villanville, " is part and'parcel of ourselves and fortune." Pierre modestly averted his eyes, and re- marked: "There has been black crape tied to the bricklayer's door for some days. The cot- tage is deserted. The plague followed up the first misfortune. I saw the tracks of a "rrier's cart, and it was not the first time it had been there. Ah, monsieur, how fortune favors us! There will beno witnesses to rise up against us." De Villanville and his lady glanced at each other. "Good, faithful Pierre!" exclaimed the lat- ter. A How you relieve us!" "By the way, where is Joseph?" asked Pierre. "He disappeared mysteriously. I can give no account of him," answered De Vil- lanville. ' "He was a drinking fellow, and I shouldn't wonder if we should find him dead in the sta- bles," added Pierre. "I have had the stables searched. Jo. seph, I think, has run away," replied mon- sieur. "That is very curious," continued Pierre, considerably disconcerted at this announce- 'ment. "I'll warrant, however, the thriftless fellow will turn up somewhere when least cx- pected. Shall I have your trunks packed for the country? I know you are impatient to see your son. He is a noble young gen. tleman, and Raymond," he added, rubbing his hands with apparent satisfaction, " wlg one day be very rich!" { "So he will!" said De Villanville, his countenance lighting up with a pleasant thought. "And I know of another p rson," he' continued, significantly, " who will not did poor. One Pierre Lereau will also be rich, as the world goes." ".How indulgent are monsieur and mad- ame! It is easy to serve such a master and mistress. I must procure another coachman I will straight to the stables and see if the horses are properly groomed. Thly must look sleek when you drive into the country to see Raymond." "Pierre,"' said madame, insinuatingly," we have a little surprise on foot for your bene- fit; but we reserve the right to keep our se- cret." "You are too generous," stammered Pierre. "Every day you bind me" to you by some new obligation." "Go away, good Pierre," eaid his mistressB, playfully. "Let the horses be carefully at- tended to. To-morrow, they cannot take us too rapidly toward Raymond." "I will put the life into them, I'll war- rant," answered Pierre, and withdrew, with another chill upon him. "Damn their condescension!" he minutter- ed, as he entered the stables with the osten- sible purpose of looking after the horses, but really to inquire of the groom concerning Joseph. . But that individual could give him no in- formation on the subject, having been ab- sent at the time of the coachman's mTysteri- 9us illness. ' \ page: 78-79[View Page 78-79] CHAPTER XXIX. BROTTHER AND 8XSTEZR. Mademoiselle Merigny reached her cham- ber, after her unexpected interview with Ray- mond, in a state of mind to her entirely new. Her strength, her composure, vanished the moment she was alone. There was an un- wonted commotion within lher. She made the discovery that she was interested in the impetuous young gentleman who had just left her Love, like a serpent, had been creeping itsidiously into her breast. She did not know of his. presence till sha felt his sting. In her pride, she would have'torn it away and trod- den it beneath her foot. She tried to believe that no wound was there, but the smart ad- monished her of its presence. She bowed her beautiful head in vexation and shame. There was a picture before her eyes-Doctor Paul and Raymond, standing side by side. How could this bel Was she not content with Doctor Paul? Edna sighed, and hot tears coursed over her cheeks. With- in, there was the revelation of a new life. How it startled her! How it sent the blood thrilling to her clheeks and neck! How her firmness struggled with her weakness I How her pride battled with the new guest I "E dna l" It was her brother wno spoke. She sprang to her feet, confused and annoyed. "Doctor Paul, I wish you would knock when you visit me. This is quite rude, I'am sure." The doetor stood mute before her, looking her over with singular sternness. His expres- sion alarmed her. "You needn't terrify me, Doctor Paul I My nerves are not strong this morning. This business of yours has worn upon me. I don't like to be stared at, brother." "Ah, Edna I how deceitful is woman's heart!'" said the doctor. "Yesterday I hought myself secure in your affections; 'that I should always wear /you near my heart, an unsullied jewel. But you are no diamond; you are nothing but paste." What do you mean, Doctor Paul?" She looked consciously down. "I mean that you are no longer a mirror of truth. Some one has breathed upon and tarnished you. You no longer reflect the im- age of Doctor Paul." 4"Brother what folly is this-?" Yes," muttered Merig y, 1* he has enter- ed the citadel; he is intrenched there,.and all the brothers in the world can't drive him ottl And a De Villanville at that l" What do you say, Paul?" faltered Edna, blushing crimson, her heart beating with se- cret dread. "He has been here. I was forced to be a listener; I heard all that passed between you. I was not to blame that the door stood ajar. I would have gone out, but I could not pass you without being seen. Nay, do not look at me in that way! I protest that I could not help it." Neither could I help his coming. Doctor Paul, you are becoming a cruel tyrant. What is this man to me that you should so frown upon and rebuke me?" Edna sank into a Bhair, and hid her faco from her brother. "4 If he were not a De Villanville, it would not be so bad," resumed the doctor, pacing the room, much agitated. "But the son ot an assassin! The heir of infamy! It is too much." "Doctor Paul, you will kill me! You forget Catholina-the niece of an assassin, the heir- ess of infamy I Is there a world of difference between the son and niece?" Doctor Paul stopped walking; Edna's re- tort seemed to affect him like a bath of ico- water. " Sister, how venomous you are! I really should be afraid ,f you, if you had a bodkin. I know you would stab me, Edlna!" ' Brother, you draw nice distinctions. Is not your lily of girls a De Villanville?" "Not so much as lie. The De Villanville blood is mixed with a pure stream from the father's side. Then you have only to look at lher, to see how glorious she is." "Glorious I Did you ever hear me say that any one was glorious? Tlint is a strong word. You have fallen into the pit where you are always ready to look for me. I see that you will never be happy without this pretty child. I suppose I must give you up; so go and take her. But, pray, Doctor Paul, don't rave any more about a young gentleman, who never made love to me but twice in his life." "Hear the little ingrate!" cried Paul. "Twice in hialife! Isn't that enough? How dare he-without saying a word to me? And why did you presume to hear him?" "Have you a mortgage on my heart, broth- er Paul? I mustn't breathe. I suppose, with- out the consent of a wicked brother. How many times have you made love to Catholi na?" "Not once, I protest " "Just once, Doctor Paul; and that once is all the time-with your eyes, you traitor- with your eyes! I Haven't I seen your every look? Ah I if you would onlylook at me so! But you don't-you won't! You come to me with looks that would kill a tiger." "4 You are a delightful oreturo! But this De Villanville is another affair." x "No one but you has said that he is any- thing to me. Tillis is a story that yon have composed yourself. You are a brilliant fel- low, brother!"- he" "It's of no use, Edna; you love him. I never saw you blush as you blushed this morning. A common brotherly blush don't reach to the shoulders." "For shame, Doctor Paul!" "Indeed, a brotherly blush is just no blush at all. In truth, there's no such thing. Your face is as white, and bright, and sweet as morning, when you kiss me; that is, it used to be; but now you have learned a new trade." "Fie!"Her cheeks were red at that mo- ment. "And then a nocturnal appointment I You, he pink and pattern of womanhood!-the perfection of maiaen modesty! I think the heavens will fall soon." "Pause there, Doctor Paul. What have you done? You have killed and buried your- self for Catholina. You have cast fame and name to the winds. For a pretty slip of De Villanville, you have ignored ambition, great- ness, and even the human race. You came to me with a pitiful story; and I, like a silly, loving sister, went weakly into your service. I did not ask if it would benefit me ; I only ask- ed: ' Will itmake Paul happier 9' Ialways was gout slave. I knew that you loved her then, but I was patient and endured it. How un- grateful are brothers 1" "But this appointment. It is positively disgraceful I I shall go there myself, and tell him that he shall see you no more." "What will you tell him about Catholina?" "Nothing, nothing!" "I shouldn't wonder, Paul, if Raymond loved his cousin." "She has never mentioned him." "A sure sign that she thinks of him. I foresee a rival in this Monsieur Raymond." "But Catholina is dead-to him, and to all but this household. I shall not divulge my precious secret. Edna, I entreat you to be eilent." "I have been too indulgent with you, Doe- tor Paul. I am now going to be severe. I shall walk in the hard, beaten path of duty. You will not move me as you were wont." "Sister Edna,'will you deny me this one favor? Keep that sweet mouth silent a little longer." - "' Ah! now it is a sweet mouth I How long since that came to pass. my poor suppliant We change places now and then, I thfnk. I hold you in my hand, Paul. If that cousin should bear her away, it would be infinitely worse than losing me. How do we stand now?" Doctor Paul sat down, quite tamed. "This is what it is to have a spoiled sis- ter," he murmured.-' You have struck a lower key, have you, sir? You were singing too high for your voice, Paul. If you wish to propitiate me, you musthumble yourself." i' * "This is quite complicated!" sighed the doctor. "Did you not extort a promise from this ' son of an assassin-this heir of infamy?'" added Edna, naively. Merigny answered in the affirmative. "Do you think he will keep faith?" "Without doubt." "Have you then so much' confidence in a De Villanville? ." "He is one of 'an order that cannot betray a brother." "You fraternize with him, it seems? Do you admit villains and assassins to your brotherhood?" "Edna, you are too searching I I thought that you were merciful and tender. I don't like girl-lawyers. Your pertinacity troubles me a great deal. You talk very much at ran- dom about Catholina and Raymond." "If you sue for peace, we will have an ar- mistice." "I would, were it not for that unmaidenly appointment, which humiliates me. If you were a common, feminipe creature, such a thing might answer-; but as it is, it is abso- lutely benieath you, iand not to be thoughteof." "If you were a common masculine creature, you might love this pretty doll, Catholina; but as it is, she is absolutely beneath yon, and not-to be thought of." Doctor Merigny stared hopelessly at Edna, and did not speak again for some minutes. "Let us compromise," said mademoiselle, at length. "Present your articles," said Paul, sub- missivel, kissing the pretty hand which she extended to him. "That is one of the articles," said Edna, "and the others shall be presented after we both have had time to reflect. This niece and this son of an assassin must be disposed of. I think, Doctor Paul, that we will throw them both overboard." "One of them, at least!" muttered Paul, walking thoughtfully from the chamber. "And that one will not be her!" sighed Edna. CHAPTER XXX. THE DOCTOR'S PATIENT. Doctor Merigny next visited his fair patient, outwardlv as calm as if nothing had happened to disturbl his equanimity. Her improvement had been rapid; illness no longer kept her in bed. She arose when her kind friend en- tered, and received him with a glad smile. Returning health gave additional beauty to her face and person. She was never more lovely than then. Her eyes beamed with soft and radiant light; her cheeks were tint, ed with the faintest earmine of the rose, while her expression was ineffably sweet. page: 80-81[View Page 80-81] "Mademoiselle Theresa, youn are gaining wonderfully," the -doctor observed. "Please call me C'atholina, when we are alone; the other makes me feel like a stran- gers" shq replied. "I eal you 'thus, to become familiar with the name, so that I may not make a slip when it is necessary to observe precaution," re- turned Merigny. "I shall be glad when caution becomes no longer needful. How strange and startling is ' my situation! Reflect, my dear doctor, on the change which has, taken place in my life." I am not unconscious of that. It is in- 4eed bewildqring to think of' Do not allow. yourself to dwell too much on thehorrors 'of that night. You have escaped- you are re- covering-you are safe." "; Safe? I wish I could feel so. Last night I dreatmed--you laugh at dreams, I suppose, doctor." a "Not your dreams, mademoiselle." " dreamed that some one robbed you of your secret. I thought some one appeared in my chamber, and knew me. 'I was terri-h fled, and awoke with a vague impressionjof a familiar face on my mind. I know it was but a vagary of night, yet it has troubled me.'" "Banish such feelings, mademoiselle. Dreams are but waves of latent thought tossed about by the echangeful,'undirected breezes of fancy. If I had dreams only to disturb me, I should$ be the happiest of men." "What should disturb you, my good friend,? Has your care of me ceased to' be a pleasure? If so, speak to me frankly. My happiness will ba in consulting your wishes- in duty and obedience to a generous ben,- factor." "It is the thought of losing this sweetre- pponsibility that ruffles my tranquillity. Ctould I always have the care of you, I should be content., He is my enemy who robs-me of' this privilege. You and Edna constitute my world. Bounded by you two, my 'desires are satisfied, I sould pass my life here without weariness. Should I lose you, Catholina, I should be miserable," "This poor. life, which you have rescued, Doctor Paul; belongs to you. The solemn 4ebt of gratitude can never be paid. You guided me faithfully through the valley of death; you lifted the black shadow, and I lived.' You followed me through darkness and pail.' :You s at beside me; you waved over me'those friendl arms, and'seared away the destroyihg arigl. I took your word to die .1 too it to liye. I knew if I struggled out of that' apathy and oblivion, I should see God or you. 'I avy youz-! Doetor Paul, I shall see you as long as it is your will. I shall go when you say, Departh;' I shall come when you say, ' Return.' I am not my own; I belong to God and you. All othera have cast me off. By and through you and Him,' I live." Catholina's voice was like the vibrations of a harp. Every word was gentleness,' every look sweetness, every ca4ence truth. Doctor Paul listened with ineffable joy. The. music and meaning of her speech swept, away doubt and distraction. Hie knew sha would be near him; that he should behold her from day to day; that her pensive eyes would still look thanks to him. Was it love? Perchance it would sometime grow to love. Such emotions might well ripeni to that tent der sentiment. So the dQctor rested in hope. "Catholina, how munificently you reward me! The wealth of your griatitude over- whelms me. I shall not ask too much of you; I shall be content with ministering to your happiness. Your love, Catholina, I dare not aspire to. Man is not worthy of it." "Stop, my friend!" interposed Catholinsa, with a deprecating gesture. "You exalt ma too much. You shock me! I am terrified by the towering height of your good opinion, Take 'me from this high pedestal, or I shall fall.' Doctor Paul, a fall would kill me! This glory that you see around me is but the re- flection of your own goodness. You see in me that which be longs to yourself only. I shudder at the height where you have placed me. Let me deseend to earth; let me walk beside you, a mere mortal." "Speak on! speak on!" exclaimed the doctor, in an ecstasy of delight. "I was never happy before." "Ah, my friend, I have said too much." "Do the stars: shine too much?" asked Merigny, with a Omile. "Is there too much music m inthe world? Do the roses bloom too often? Neither can you talk too much, may beloved. I drink from your lips as from a refreshing spring which slakes an eternal thirst.' You' say you will go when I say, ' Depart'; that you will return when I say, ' Come.' It shall be I who will do 'this. I is I who will be,. the vassal.' You shall say, ' Doctor Paul, do this, or ' Doctor Paul, do that,' and by this, d4ar little hand, I will obey.'- Merigny gaeefilly tookl Catholina's hand, and earried it to hip lips. He heard a sigh at the door. Bothlooked ' up, and beheld Edna, "Traitors I traitors!!' she exclaimed. "I have caught you, at lst. Come! what have you to 'say? How, wiJ, you justify this great wrong to me '- Catholina did not blush nor start; she gaz- ed tranquilly at Edna.' JIt was the dootor who looked like a criminal. "You don't answer," added Edna. "Guilt strikes you dumb. Ah, Catholina, you have stolen Doctor Paul! He is no longer mine; he has been swearing to follow you to the ends of the earth." "Edna, you will annihilate mademoiselle!" cried Merignv, despairingly. "I shall forgive Catholina, but not you. I shall prepare torments for you. Remem- ber the charges you brought against me this morning. You were cruel a- a tiger! 'You did not spare me when I was innocent." "Sister, I have addressed none but the most respectful language to mademoiselle. This has not b-en a love scene. I have nei- ther declared love, nor asked he(-rs. Made- moiselle is but a beautiful child. Look at her! Sea how serene and unruffled she is. Do you perceive any of the trepidations of love?"- Unfortunately for Merigny, Catholina be- gan at that instant to be 'confused; the lily hue of her cheek chlanged to the prettiest pink. "She is the pink of girls!" said Edna, laughing.. "You have lost your lily, broth- er." "I protest against this!" remonstrated Paul., "Your rudeness will kill mademoi- selle. You are shocking-you arc irightful! If you do not stop, I shall speak of your in- discretions ; I shall betray that api ointment. Ah, si-ter, to think that I should have to blush for you!" "I can do my own, Doctor Paul.- I warn you there will be no more comnpromise. The treaty is broken forever. I have Heard you, sir! I stood here. trembling with indigna- tion. 'Is there too much music in the world?'" she added, mocking him. "' Can the stars shine too much? Do the roses I loom too often?' All this is very fine!, Catholina, I wonder you liave patience with him." "It is you who try my patience," replied Catholina. "When you slander him, you sin against me. Has lie not held over ime the power of life and d:ath? Shall I forget my death and resurrection? I am his and yours." ' "We shall see-we; shall see!" said Edna, more seriously. "Mademoiselle Merigny, I was speaking of friendship. You will not mortify mae by-af- fecting misapprehension." "She was ' speaking of friendship,' Paul, do you hear. I hope you are satisfied. You shall not come here again to annoy mnademoi- selle. It is as much as I can do, who am your sister, to tolerate you. Brother, you may be dismissed a little while." Madermoisels Merigny took a book from the table, pointed authoritatively tO the door, then seated herself beside Caltholina. CHAPTER XXXI. CARRIER NUMBER ONE. Joseph, the coachman, having escaped from the stables, hurried as fast as he could to the place where he had left Jude Schwartz. he was weak, and his limbs trembled beneath him'; but exercise warming his blood, gave him new strength, and lie felt quite restared by the time he reached the carrier's corner. He found him crouched under his favorite laimp-post, in great bodily distress, groaning and moaning most lugubriously. "Ah, Joseph," he cried, seeing the coach- man approaching, "I shall jolt no more of 'em to the swamp! The poor things'll have to -get there the best way they can. To save expense, the whole population lhad better go out themselves, and wait their turn; and Yellow Jack wont keep 'cm waitin' long, I warrant. So more dollars for me, Joseph! I sha'n't hear 'em rattle any more in the bag. It's got hold of me, at last, and is twistin' away in my stomach like a hundred cork- screw'." "Arouse y6urself, Schwartz, and don't give way to it '!" said Joseph. "Don't give way to it! The saints give me patience. If I had a stone, Joseph, I'd throw it at ye. Ho0w can one help dyin' when his time comes? And as for the pain, I fancy you wouldn't bear it any better tilan I," in- terposed Schwartz, very ill-naturedly. "It isn't the fever at all," said llis friend, "but poison. I was seized in the same man- ner after drinking from your bottle. Come! you must get upon your feet, and exercise. If you lay here, you'll die." '.Not the fever at nall!" cried Schwartz, eagerly. "Then I am the luckis at fellow alive; for I swear to you, Joseph, I'll never die of anything but the fever! That I cor- sider the proper way for me to go out of the world. Yes, that's the way I'll go, and be trotted out to the trenches in a jolly way, with neatness and dispatch. But are you sure, Joseph? Don't deceive a poor lad, who don't want to leave his horse and cart, and his canvas bag. If you had a canvas bag, and a horse and cart. Joseph, you wouldn't want to give 'cm up, to lay down like a worm in the mud." "If you lay down in the mud this time, it's your own fault., Get up, Jude! You don't try to help yourself. If you'll exert yourself, I'll raise you to your feet in a minute. There'll be a crowd round us soon. There are two coming this way, now," a"My legs are cramped, Joseplh. Rub 'em, and get'up the circulation in 'cm., This is a. dreadful way to be in! (What.: if somebody' should want me? I shouldn't be able to ac-. pommodate a dead person, if he's ever ao. anxious to be tucked up in his last bed." page: 82-83[View Page 82-83] The two persons alluded to by Joseph now I stopped on the walk, and looked at Schwartz, Presently, several others joined them, and be- gan to make comments, in regard to the na- ture of the carrier's malady. ", Spasms!" said one. i"Cramps!" suggested another. 4Convulsions!" said a third, h* Rats-rats!" exclaimed a fourth. Every one looked at the last speaker with curiosity, who happened to be none other than Monsieur Commodore, Captain Trip- lett's friend. "Who ever heard of rats in a person's stomach!" said the man who had suggested spasms; whereupon a laugh immediately followed at Commodore's expense. A tall man had approached, and taken a position directly under the street-lamp, where he had silently listened to the remarks of those about him. He also turned his e yes to- ward the man who had assigned so remark- able a cause for Jude's sufferings. 'Some- thing in his countenance immediately fixed his attention. The pallid, care-worn face had a' singular counterpart somewhere in his re- membrance. "Rats-rats-rats!" repeated Commodore, impressively. "That would be three rats, at least!" retorted he who had spoken before. ," Did you never read of Mary Magdalene, that she had seven devils withn her?" re- turned-Commodore, sharply. "Isn't a devil bigger than a rat?" "The gentleman argues like a lawyer." "Rats!" said Commodore, emphatically. At that instant the eyes of the latter rested on the face of the tall man nearest the street- lamp, when his features exhibited a remark- able change. Wonder, fear, curiosity, and surprise, mingled with a vague gleam of sense -and recognition, were each mirrored upon (his pale visage. He took a step toward Jean Louis-it was the honest bricklayer who stood underthe lamp-though somewhat disguised; th.:n stopping, made strange gestures in the air with his hands. "Jean Louii grew white with fear. It ap- peared to him that the ghost of the man in the wall had come to haunt him. An un- speakable dread fell upon him. While these two persons were stariug at each other, Jude Schwartz arose upon his elbow, and forgetful of his pain, stared at Jean Louis. The latter suddenly turned and fled, Commodore darting after him. "'Tis he-'tis he I 'Tis the rogue of a car- tier number one!" cried Schwartz; and re- gardless -if the numbness of his limbs, and the tortures he had been suffering, leaped to his feet, and followed, shouting: "Stop him-stop himJ" "He's mad!'4 said Joseph, and pursued his friend. Captain Triplett, seeing his companion and dependant starting in this unaccountable manner after a stranger, believed that his madness had assumed a malignant form, and ran as fast as he could to overtake him, and prevent mischief. The others, impelled by a natural curiosity to know the result of such eccentric conduct, set off in similar haste, but were very soon left behind; so that those reallyinterested had the race all to themselves. The bricklayer was never before so thor. ouglly dismayed. If he had had time to rea- son and collect his thoughts, he would prob- ably have acted differently ; but his utter un. preparedness for shuch a startling develop- ment, completely upset his equilibrium. His mind being considerably disordered by the strain to which it had been so long subject, an event of this kind was more likely to affect him than at any previous period of his life. To his confused imagination, the inhabitants of the lower world were indiscriminately let loose, and were after him in full cry, an infer- nal, ghastly pack. Taking whatever streets were most convenient, he ran with surprising speed. The object of his. terror kept near him some time, but finally foll exhausted, and was picked up by. Captain Triplett, who was glad to abandon the chase. The trial of speed now lay between the bricklayer, the carrier, and the coachman- the latter, however, being far in the rear.' Jean Louis did not ask whose steps were echo-- ing behind him; he thought only of that hag- gard face, and those mystic writings in the air. He panted like a weary dog. "That fatal wall! that fatal wall!" he mut- tered. "I am a miserable murderer. I should have said: ' Kill me, if "oun will, and build your own wall."' 4 Stop, you thief! stop, you number one! I see you-I know you!" shouted Schwartz, taxing every muscle of his body. Poor Louis did not sense a word of this, but ran till the hand of the carrier at length caught him by the skirts of his coat and held him. The bricklayer fell to the ground, com- pletely exhausted. Schwartz twisted his fin- gers into his neck-tie, and- kept him on his back till Joseph came up. "What are you doing?" cried the latter. "Has the devil entered into you as lie dide into the swine? Why are you strangling- this poor man?" The coachman clasped his hands around the carrier's throat to choke him off, if vio- lence should be necessary to prevent him from committing murder., "tun for the cart, Joseph! Yon know where it stands. I have jot number one, ae sure as death!" replied Jude, much excited. V I am mad, or everybody else is," said Jo- seph, dubiously. "What do you want of the cart? Are you going to bury as well as kill him?" "I'm goin' to do neither, stupid! I'm go- in' to keep him for monsieur. Monsieur will give money for him-money to chink in my canvas bag." ' Jude took another turn in the bricklayer's neckeloth. "Give money for him!" repeated the coachman. "The poison has struck to his head. I shall have to choke him." Joseph gave the carrier's windpipe a squeeze. "You don'% understand me, Joseph," gasp- ed Jude. "This fellow is a carrier ;- he stole a body. and monsieur wants the body." "Oh, lie stole a body " said Joseph, re- laxing his hold. ",'Yes; your young master wants him, Jo- seph; and it is for him that I have had this race. Monsieur will know where the young girl-is buried." "Catholina!" said Joseph, in a low voice. "I ,know there was a mystery about it. I was in the stables when the cart came for her, at night. Presently, another came, also. I never could comprehend it." "Well, then, run for the cart." "I'll go," said Joseph. , "How is your stomach?" I "I don't know that I have a stomachl. I'm thinkin' of the money in thie canvas bag." "I told you exercise would save you, Jude. If there is anything left in your bottle, it must be carriel to a chemist." X "The cart, Joseph-the cart!". "With all my heart," responded the coach- man, and scampered away with alacrity. Jean Louis (who, tiring' of confinement, had ventured abroad for that exercise which. a life of labor had rendered indispensable) was quite confounded by the events of the last few moments. That pale face and neg- lected beard still haunted him. As he lay almost breathless on the ground, he looked wildly from side to side, expecting to see a phantom shape. As he recovered his senses, he became conscious of a hand at his neck- cloth, which was hlolding him with a tenacious grasp. He heard voices talking alout mon- sieur and the cart, and believing that he had fallen into the hands of De Villanville's agents, gave himself up for lost. He had es- caped the dagger once, but it was not his destiny to escape it again. -Mentally, he bade adieu to Suzanne and his children. He felt that remonstrances would be useless, but there was no need that lie should suffer be- for! the time, sp he said, faintly Good fellow, do not choke me! I am too weak to run away " "I'll only hold you tight enough to keep you for monsieur. What a great villain you are, to be sure I!" "Where is IT!" asked the bricklayer. "Where is what?" "T!" replied Jean. "Nobody knows where it is. I thought I knew, but I didn't. It was carted about so much that it got terribly mixed up at last. But you'll have to tell, Monsieur Carrier, all that you know. If you are obstinate, tor- ture will make you speak. You'll be thrust down among the vaults, my thievin' fellow, where nothing but brick walls will 'hear your shrieks." "Accursed be brick walls!" cried Jean Louis. "You may well say so, when you stand within 'em, and your voice drops down dea4 upon the masonry." "The murderer! I, too, shall be walled up! But I was too faithful to him. I kept his horrible secret till my'life had been at- tempted. Good fellow, I have a wife and children." - ' "Then, for the sake of your wife and chil- dren, tell the truth when you are questioned, You must explain what became of it." "You know as well as I. You saw it fol- low me; it kept close to my heels. I ex. pected to see it when I opened my eyes. I dare not look far into the darkness, for fear that it will rise up, with its hollow cheeks and white lipis." - * "Mdnsieur Carrier, don't try your wit on me; save it until you are confronted by monsieur." - "My name is not Carrier, but Jean Louis." "More wit," said Schwartz. A "By trade I am a bricklayer, and a luck. less trade it has proved," muttered Jean. "Puttin"'em into the ground is bricklay. in', isn't it? That's a new view of the busi- ness. Go on, you jolly number one!" "I never was so terrified,"- resumed Jean, "although I protest that I have not willing- ly injured any one. Did you notice how fast it ran?" "The body? Yes; I think it ran as fast as any corpse I ever saw," said Jude, ironicalry, supposing that the bricklayer was playing upon his credulity. "A body it could not have been, for bodies cannot pass through brick walls. It was the ghost of the man in the wall. I remember his countenance a8 though it were but yester.' day. Did you see him mLike those strange motions in the air? Did you olserve the horrible quiver of his uplifted arms, as they fell slowly to his side? But lie has lno right to reproach me. I did my best. I would have saved him, but:tlat was impossible." "Don't play the fool!" retorted Schwartz page: 84-85[View Page 84-85] "You sent me wrong once, but you can't eain. Here comes Joseph with the cart. You are not the kind of freight it has been wed to carry, but I can break over rules for the sake of accommodating monsieur." "Who are you?" asked the bricklayer, his mind becoming clearer. "I'm one that earns his money in a honest way. This is my turn-out"-Jude pointed to his horse and cart-." and a very prompt and convenient concern it is. Get up,'number One, and have abeat." Jean Louis arose with a vague sense of re c- egnition. The face of Schwartz, too, grew familiar as the bricklayer's confused faculties nrturned. ' "Tumble in!" said Schwartz. "A dead-cart 1" muttered Jean Louis, in-' voluntarily shrinking from the vehicle. "A live-cart, too," said Jude, pushing him toward the conveyance. By this time, the bricklayer's mind had nearly regained its wonted force. He began to feel the humiliation of such treatment, and the cowardice of submitting, without as- sorting his rights to freedom, in the most de- cided manner. "Take your hand from my shoulder!" said Louis, warningly. In answer to this rensonable request, he re- ceived a provoking shake from the nervous arm of the carrier. Instantly the bricklayer let fly his fist, and struck his persecutor be- tween the eyes such a blow that he fell upon his back. He would now have made good his escape, had not Joseph dropped the reins and caught him, by the collar. A struggle now ensued, during which Louis used his clenched hand like a gavel, hammering fiercely at the feace of the coachman, who defended himself stoutly till tchwartz came to his aid, when the bIricklayer was finally overpowered, bound hand and foot, laid into the cart among pades, picks, ropes, and various other arti- cles incidental to the carrier's business, and trundled away at a most uncomfortable speed. CHAPTER XXXII. PIERRE LEREAU'S RECORD. Pierre felt uncomfortable about the dap- peartance of Joseph. In his own mind the coachman had been dead a day, and he had -expected to hear of his having been found stiff. on t he straw. That was the most nervous day that h.- had experienced. Monsieur and mad- ame had been too condescending; he was im- atient for them to go into the country to join Iajmond. His own particular line of conduct was marked out, and, as is apt to be the case when one has resolved upon something of im- portance, he was terribly afraid that some un- expected turn of affairs might thwart his pur- pose. He wandered *about restlessly. The sun trailed across the heavens with unwonted slowness. He affected to be busy about many trifles, and was more obliging than usual. He made frequent visits to the closet that con- tained the little trunk, trying the lock again and again, to be assured that there had been no mistake growing out of too much haste. On one of these pilgrimages to his chlamber, Pierre was dry. There was wine in the closet, but he feared to taste it. He stole down to the wine vaults. He had often been there, although his descents had been less frequent the last year, during whichtperiod he had en- tertained a secret awe of the vault. He knew where the oldest vintage was stored; he could lay his hand on a bottle in the dark, but the dark was frightful to Pierre, and he never ven- tured there without'a light. The vaults were damp. Pierre went d6wn and down. He stood on the earthen floor. The waxen candle he bore flickered this way and that, and the moist ooze under his feet chilled him. He hurried on. Supposing that this was his last visit to the wine-cellar of monsieur, Pierre unconsciously attached double importance to it, and superstitiously, and perhaps unknowingly, admitted within the mysterious chambers of his brain that if there was anything shut up there in the damp dark;pess that had vengeance to wreak on him, that opportunity, being final, would be seized upon and attended with extraordinary devel- opments. This inward distrust, this cowardly convie-- tion of something horrible impending, made him quicken his movements, and rendered him peculiarly sensitive to the slightest cir- cumstance of his surroundings. , A rank and festering odor urled into Pierre's nostrils; it did not gradually come upon him, but seemed to strike himt of a sud- den while passing a portion of brick wall that had the appearance of comparative newness. He hesitated, then darted forward, and clutch- ed'the first bottle he reached. He knew it had age, for he felt the woof of the spider on its tapering neck. He knew his weakness and realized his want of manly confidence. Know- ing what his nerves required, he did not delay for corkscrew or glass, but dashing the slim neck of the bottle against the rugged masonry, it was broken off short and sheer as if it had been cut with a diamond. There was a report like a pistol, and then the imprisoned spirits effervesced, and streamed down the smooth surface in foam and bubbles. A rich odor, half neutralizing the scent of the vaults, hailed his sense of smell, inviting him to be quick; so Ihe tipped the mutilated bottle to his lips, and it was half drained before he cast it from him. The draft was cool and refreshing, and he regretted the waste of that which trickled along the ground among the splintered frag- ments at his feet. Sparklin, old grape-juice has a bracing effect upon one's nerves, and Pierre experi- enced its potency. Taking another bottle from the shelf, he believed he should return withI much more firmness. He prudently re- solved not to-look at the wall across the niche. His imagination called back too vividly the incidents of that night, wihen. pacing to and fro in the background with De Villanville, he watchled thie labors of Jea n Louis. That hope- less cry that arose when the last brick was placed, had followed him ever since; and sometimes at midnight, echoing in the ears of his imiagination, aroused him from sleep. While he thought of these things, he fan- cie1 he heard a low murmur, like the melan- choly ripple of a moaning vice. Pierre stop- ped and threw around him hasty and inquisi- tive glances. The darkness mocked hls sight. The black sace swarmed with shadows. He peopled the vaults in a moment with airy shapes. There was a rust!e, a stir somewhere; lihe could not tell whether it was above or be- low, at the right or left, before or behind. The wine turned to water in his stomach; it lost its power to quicken his enni-tge and bolster up his heart. The appi, h'-v sions of a guilty conscience were stronger tian it. The new masinry stood out distinctly before him. - He imagined he heard the clink of a trowel, and saw. the haggard features of the man in the wall. Holding tightly his -bottle and the candle, and half closing his eyes, lie rushed through the passages till he gained the steps, pursued by imaginary feet that- fell upon the earth with a ghostly sound. lie did not feel safe until he had reached his room, and sat a few moments upon the side of his bed. When the perturbation of superstitious terror had subsided, and Pierre's pulses throbbed more healthily, he was conscious of a drowsiness stealing upon him, and lay back upon Ijis pillow. This sleepiness grew quite irresistible, and his eyelids quivered and dropped. A tran- quillity very unwonted soothed his recently- fluttering nerves. A taste remained in lis mouth unlike the lingering flavor of wine. It was not an hour in which he was in the habit of sleeping, and that circimstance oc- curred to him. The somniferous quietude became deeper, till a leaden weight rested on his limbs, and a dull pressure lent a stupor to his brain. Although thus physically and mentally beset, Pierre's habitual prulence was not overcome. He began to think that his sensations were unnatural. A single dis- trust was sufficient to arouse him. With an effort that one less resolute would have failed to exercise, he arose from the bed, and yawn- ing, stood on his feet. He took a step for. ward and perceived that the room appeared to revolve like a top. He grasped a chair to steady himself. "This is not drunkenness!" he muttered. "One bottle never affects limb or brain. I can drink two, and walk without swerving." ' He staggered to the table where he hadl placed the bottle just taken from the cellar. He examined the cork and the wire fastenings, and could not discover that it had been tam- pered with. But a rogue's suspicions are not easily satisfied; Pierre gave the bottle a see- end inspection, and was struck with the fact that the cork seemed new, and that the wire had not rusted into it in the ordinary manner of vintage long bottled. "The wretches! the wretches!" hissed Pierre. "They have no - gratitude. They would murder a faithful servant. The mon- sters have poisoned the wine. Ah, they hlave killed me! Monsieur and madame have been too good. He called me his ' friend,' and she * had a ' little surprise' for me. Mon Dieu.- This is the friendship-this is the surprise!" Pierre stood withl clenched hands, wander- ing eyes, and blanched cheeks. His gaze presently settled upon the closet-door; he thought of the trunk and its treasures. "If I die," he exclaimed, "my death shall rob them of the fruits of their crimes more effectually than if I live! 'But perhaps it is not too late. I may have an antidote for this nccurse-l narcotic, which has the taste and sensations of opium. I know something of poisons; I have studied them, and I always had a fear that they would wish to be rid of me at last. ' Secrets keep best in one's own family,' is their motto. Assassins! I was it for this f serv(d you?"' Pierre opened the closet, and unlocking- a drawer, took from it a small box full of vials, with little slips of paper attached to each. He ran them over rapidly, and select- ed one. "This must be what I want. I'll try it, st- all events; it can do no harm. Let me seel How much is a dose? No matter; I'll take enough." Putting the vial to his lips, he swallowed its contents, and replacing the box, evoked dire maledictions on the De Villanvilles. Motion find fear had partially interrupted the progress of the narcotic, but it soon ex- erted its power again. Pierre noted its effects upon his respiration, which was becoming thick and painful. He looked in a glass, and perceived that his eyes were dull and expres. sionless. "I'm afraid it is too late; but if it proves, I'll leave a record behind." There were writing materials on the table. He sat down, seized a pen, and wrote: page: 86-87[View Page 86-87] ," I die by poison, administered in wine by Mon- 'Bleur and Madame De Villanville. I denounce them them as the -murderers of Philip De Noyan, and also of Catholina. his daughter. The first was bricked up, alive, in a niche in the wine-vaults, where his body may te found, in proof of this,my dying decla- ration; the second, like myself, was deliberately made the victim of poison. Her remains were hurriedly conveyed away by night, and buried with the com- mon deal ; it being reported she had died of yellow fever. Conscious that I may have but a few moments to live. and desirous to relieve my conscience of its guilty secrets, I furthermore depose and say, that one Dr. Paul Merigny was decoyed to De Villanville's chateau, for the purpose of giving an outside, re- speetable plausibility to her decease, as well as to ob- ta{ from him a written certificate of her death,-and caused him to-be assassinated-on his way home. The name of the bricklayer-who was forced, on the peril of his life, to entomb the unfortunate Do Noyan-was Jean 'Louis, who formerly lived in a cottage, at a place called the Old Barracks bnt who recently disap- peared. The truth of these statements I solemnly vouch for. PIsaRB LuzEAU." Pierre had no sooner finished this than he was seized with violent pains; and fearing that his end was near, and not daring to leave the Writing on the table lest it should fall into the wrong hands, he hurriedly approached the bed, and thrust it between the mattresses. A horrible retching ensued, and Pierre verily thought his last hour had come; but after co- pious emesis, he felt a wonderful relief, and took courage. From the dread of death, he passed to the hope of life. Pierre glanced at the closet and rejoiced; there was a strong- possibility 'that he should yet survive the goodness of monsieur and madamnie. :' Ah! that ' little surprise'!" said Pierre, faintly. "Perhaps I shall surprise her who surprises." '1hen he felt very weak, and sank into a deep sleep, which had troubled visions of Vaults, and wine, and voices, and a man in the- wall. CHAPTER XXxI!t. THE FATAL PAPrB. "What has made the name of De Villan. ville so odious?" queried Raymond, after his interview with Edna. -"Rats I rats 1" said a voice. It was Monsieur Commodore who spoke. He stood looking into the young man's room, with a vacant expression. "What crime has been committed? What wrong has been done?" "In' the wall-in the wall!" muttered the Widman. '-My poor fellow, what do you mean?" " asked Raymond, touched with pity. Commodore looked earnestly at Raymond, then with his hands made mystfe pantomime, which was at once responded to by the young h man. The inadman's face lighted up with retifiantion. "So you see one of us " lie whispered. "Then lshall be saved. I shall observe your * movements; I shall watch the mortar as it falls. If there is anything in it, I shall know. How rapidly the wall goes up! Leave an air- hople, good lrieklayer - leave an air-hole I Just a little place that one can breathe through. Hear the, trowel! Clink, clink!" There was now a notable degree of wildness in the man's face.' He rembled, and was i manifestly suffering from intense terror. i "I would," said Raymond, thoughtfully, "that you could speak more to the purpose; that your mind would surrender this terrible secret that troubles you." "They are putting in the last brick! - They are shutting out the light I Now come dark- ness and suffocation. What is this? It is a lump of mortar. No ; it is a knife." He paused, and his mind, with the eccen- tricity of madness, seemed to pass to another subject. "Why do I listen?" mused Raymond. "These are but the ravings of a manac." "Rats? rats 1' hissed the madman, crouch. ing and shivering. There's something terrible about this man!" soliloquized Raym. nd, "I never hear his mutterings witlhout being shoked."' "Once in the drain," continued Commo- lore, " keep on, and fight your way through. Yau may N ell, and shriek, and howl, but you can't scare them away. Hurry-rush-dart, and plunge frantically beneath the waters. Teeth and claws will soon relax, as you drift strangling along. It will be pleasant drown. ing-vastly pleasant--and the roar and rant of the river will be music in your ears" " "There is a certain degree of coherency in these mutterings," said Raymond. 4 He tells the story of an incarceration -and an escape. He makes me shudder! I will listen no lon- ger. Adieu, monsieur. Business obliges me to leave you." "Rats " said Commpdore, gravely; and Raymond heard him repeating the word till he reached the streat. It was now about twelve o'clock ; there was half a day between him and his appointment with Mademoiselle Merigny, He would pass the intervening time as best he could. He had resumed his disguise, and felt that he could walk the streets with perfect immunity from discovery. He had not proceeded far when he was overtaken by Jude Schwartz, who was mount- ed on his cart, with Joseph-the coachman- beside him. "A jolly trade," said the carrier; "and the silver clinks every day in the canvas bag Ah, Joseph I! now is my harvest 1" , The harvest of death!" said Raymonad. Schwartz reined up his horse. "What are you saying, my sailor lad? Don't you like my calln'? Aren't I a bless* in' to community? Haven't I done my duty by thie tarpaulins and the short jackets? Ah, Jack! I know of many feet that never 'll mount tie riggin' again. Some of 'em didn't pay very well, either. Throw me a piece of silver, Jack, to make it even between us. You'll find 'em in the trenches, Jack, with hosts o' picters in indelible -ink of anchors, and women-folks, and whim-whams on their yellow bodies." "Come down from your cart, Schwartz. I want to speak to you," returned Raymond. "Hillo! what have we here? It isthe voice of monsieur himself." "Be silent!" "'Tis too late, Monsieur Raymond. I know you," said Joseph. "A lock of dark hair is visible beneath your yellow wig. I know the De Villanville nose, and mouth, and voice." "I have found carrier number one!" cried Schwartz. "The villain gave me a hot chase; but I took him. Look at this mask between my eyes, will you? It came of his fist, mon- sieur. The rascal took my measure on the ground. See how Josepli is battered, too But we overpowered the obstinate ,dog at last, tied him hand and foot, and gave him a ride on my cart that made him groan, I'll warrant you!" Raymond stood looking, all this time, at Joseph, querying what to do with him, "Why are you not at home, Joseph?" he ashed. ", Why do I find you mounted on a carrier's cart, at an hour when your services are usually required elsewhere?"' "I have left the service of your father, Monsieur Raymond. I never shall crack whip over horse of his 'again. We are done-De Villanville and I," said Joseph, respectfully. "So Monsieur Raymond is young De Vil- lanville!" exclaimed Schwartz. "' I knew there was some mystery." "Why have you left my father's service?" asked the young man. "I beg your pardon, monsieur; but things did not go to suit me. Neither did I like Pierre Lereau, who locked me in the stables to die, alone, of a strange malady. I wanted a priest and a doctor, and he would bring nei- ther. By the providence of God, I climbed out of the window, and the poison did not prove fatal." "Poison! Who poisoned you?" "I wish I could tell you. I drank with Schwartz from his bottle, and we both came near dying.. 'Some villain had put poison in his bottle while he slept."' "I think it was that same Pierre," said Jude; "and on account, too, of that -body which there has been so much trouble about. How much have I suffered b3s means of car- rier number one. But all this burial business we'll soon get at, for we've got the fellow safe and snug. You can go and question him as soon as you like. Joseph will take you to him. A trusty fellow is Joseph." "Where have you put him?"Raymond asked. "I hope -monsieur will forgive the liberty," answered Joseph; but considering the im- portance attached to his safe keeping by Jude, I locked him in one of the vaults under the chateau. I happened to have the key of the secret entrance, having lately been employed by monsieur to store some wine in the wine- cellar, and -also to scatter lime upon the floors, on account of the disagreeable odors that have crept in from a drain." "It was rather a summary proceeding, my good fellows, to incarcerate him in this man- ner. Nevertheless, I am glad you did not al- low him to escape. Your zeal shall be re- membered. Joseph, you shall take me to him immediately." "I will willingly serve Monsieur Raymond, but I must keep out of the way of Pierre. I am watching Pierre. Whoever finds him out, will discover a great villain." Raymond gave Schwartz some money, and he and-Joseph set off together. Approach- ing the chateau as quietly as possible, they gained the private entrance to the vaults with- out being observed. They had no sooner en- tered and advanced a f'ew paces, than they discovered Pierre making his way to that part of the wine-cellar from whence he had taken the two bottles. I "Come with me i" wispered Joseph; and stealing up the steps that Pierre had just de- scended, the moment his wax-candle had dis- appeared in the darkness, he conducted Ray- mond by private staircases to the room he' was wont to occupy in the left wing of the chateau. Having secured the door, Joseph drew Raymond's attention' to a small hole ' hadnmade in the wall. I made this, monsieur, for the purpose of watching Pierre, whose room is next to mine. He has been gone several days ; but you see he has come back, at last. I shall get track of him yet." "It is strange that you watch him, Joseph. This house and its inmates are not what they used to be." "Monsieur never said anything truer. H hope nothing will happen to make any of us miserable. But I am only a poor servant, and have no right to hear, or to see, or think aoy- thing." "For Heaven's sake, Joseph, be silent! I am nearly distracted. You need not wonder if I o mad." "i f you think so, smother the fatal curios- ity that urges you on. I have seen that you are troubled. If you would be happy, go page: 88-89 (Illustration) [View Page 88-89 (Illustration) ] abroad. Travel; divert yourself; but nerver, never come here!" Joseph luoked compassionately at Ray- mond. "I cannot comprehend you, Joseph," an- swered the latter, gnawing his lips. "Your insinuations are insulting to this house. The name of Do Vilianville is above reproach, not- withstanding the accursed chain of circum- stances that has gradually, and with singular pertinacitv, linked itself together in'my braii. These things that make me anxious are but trifling coiincidences, magnified and exagger- ated bya disturbed imanination. I have been a fool! I have been cruelly unjust to those to whom I owe the fir t and greatest duties. Joseph, I pardon your presumption." Joseph sighed, shook his head, looked at the floor, and returned no answer. Present- ly some one was heard ascending a staircase "It is Pierre," whispered Joseph. "I know his step." A moment after, -Pierre entered his room. Joseph looked through the aperture, and saw him sittingS aon the bed, much excited. He then placed a chair so that SRaymond could easily observe him, which he did with increas- ing curiosity. He could ear, too, very plain- ly; and when Pierre be gan to realize his sit- uation, and mutter, and threaten, the young man's interest became painfully intense, It was true some words escaped him, but enough reached his ears to terrify him. He readily understood that Pierre believed himselfpois- oned; that lie sought for an antidote in the little, box; that he meant to leave a record behind that should criminate his supposed as- sassins even after his death, should the anti- dote prove unavailing. He watched the prog- ress of the writing, and saw the paper hid- den between the mattresses. t Joseph stood behind him; and looking over his shoulder, also witnessed these events. I Neither whispered their thoughts, although a the coachman pitied Raymond's distress. As soon as Pierre Lereau had passed the ( painful ordeal that followed, and, weak and ex- hausted, had fallen asleep, Raymond, making a gesture to Joseph to- remain motionless, went sofily on tiptoe into the next room; and b thrusting his hand between the mattresses, secured thq fatal paper. He was outwardly it fine, but his face was quite ghastly in its pallor. Joseph, contrary to his wishes, had followed a him, and now caught him by the wrist, whis- pering: * 4For God's sake, don't read it, monsieur!" n Raymond pushed- the honest coachman aside, and hastily descended the stairs. Jo- seph followed him anxiously a sd sorrowfully to his own apartment, surprised at the calm- ness which he"exhibited. "My good young master," essayed Joseph r, 'for the last time, "burn that paper. YoU will be happier for it." "S- Sit down, good Joseph. Do not fear fov me. You shall see that I am a man." n- Raymond pressed his forehead a moment ir with his hand, then held the paper before his C swimming eyes. The writing was bold and t- distinct. The words seemed to rise up to i- meet him, as if in haste to impart their fear, ir ful secrets. He read it. twice, without an ex- i, clam ation or the perceptible quiver4of nus- It cle, then lie laid his head on a table and did '- not speak for a long time. n "My dear master," said the faithful Joseph, e "do not believe all that is on that paper. Pierre is a great rogue!" With a sickly smile, Raymond passed his it lumble friend the paper. He read it; ind - knowing so much, was sure of its truth. 'Ray mond considered him attentively, while ho r perused the tell-tale document. "Well, Joseph?" 'ie queried, hoarsely. "One should believe nothing without evi- r dence," faltered Joseph. "True, my friend; yet you believe it all." I "It is too monstrous to believe I! Drink - some wine, my master." Raymond made an impatient gesture; and seizing a goblet, drank a large quantity of water. "Joseph, is there any air in this room?" "Monsieuri I have- opened all the win- dows." "The air seems on fire I Have they gone, Joseph?" "they go to-morrow." Rymond swallowed more water. "Joseph?" "Yes, monsieur." "Get a crow and a hammer, and we'll visi the vaults." "O monsieur I! you are frighfully calm I Why don't you rave? Why don't you cry out, or weep like a woman?" Joseph, God may have some mercy on us I Get the implements and let Us go down." "Wait till to-morrow," suggested Joseph. "Why this haste?P" "I cannot bear suspense; proof itself is better than it." "Perhaps you are right. If resolved on it, I am ready." "Thank you, kind Joseph I Let us go,'4 answered Raymond, huskily. They descendedto the vaults-Joseph leav- ing him but a few moments to procure the necessary implements. CHAPTER XXXIV%. THE BRICKLAYER. "Monsieur?" "Joseph?" "This Jean Louis affirms that he ia a briok. page: 90-91[View Page 90-91] layer. Let him take down this wall. If that be his trade, he can make an opening more quickly and skillfully than I, without dis- turbing the inmates of the chateau. iHe can replace it again, if neces-ary." Raymond was looking hopelessly at the new masonry, wlich stood out palpably in the light of Joseph's lantern. But too rap- idly' he reealted the words of Merigny. --He knew why the latter lhad linked the name of De Villanville with crime. What infamy was in store for im and the guilty pair to whom he owed existence! Doctor Paul was alive ; There were drops of comfort ii that. "Whlat name did you pronounce, my friend?" "Jean Louis." "Is not that name on the paper?" "Heaven-is niysterious, but just, monsieur. My blood thrills in mny veins! This is the bricklayer who reared this wall. Yes; the name is Jean Louis." "Mon Diem! Is not the hand of Provi- dence manifest in this?9 Bring him forth, Jo- seph." "Shall I leave you in darkness?" "I fear not darkness: hasten." Joseph and the lantern disappeared. Ray- mond paced to and fro before the wall, half- stunned by the terrific disclosures that had destroyed every prospect in life. All those sudden perturbations of his father and moth- er were now understood. He apprehended why the diamond trowel had startled monsieur. The unwholesome ooze of the drain! he rec- ollected that, too, and the sensations it had produced. How firightfully complete was the whole chain of evidence I Alas! for the De Noyans!. Poor Catholina! "You will be ech, Raymond-very rich!" How shocking were these words I Here was the motive--the key to -unlock the wind- ing labyrinth of crime. . "All, God!" exclaimed Raymond, " why hast thou made me the instrument of this dis- covery? It was their love -of me-morbid and overgrown-that tempted them on to murder. Better had they loathed me!" He heard Joseph - coming, and turning slowly, belield Jean Louis, the bricklayer. His face was colorless, and fixed in its expres- sion as marble. With glassy eyes, he stared at the wall; it, had been built more than twelve months, but still looked strangely new, in contrast with the adjoining masonry. " Is your name Jean Louis?" asked Ray- mond. "It is," he answered, without loooking at the questioner. "Are you a bricklayer?" "I am," said Louis, in a sepulchral voice; "but I'll build no more walls f YOu/may kill me, but my band shall not touch the trowel. I ,lave committed one awful crime against humanity, and God has punished me. Ye as- sas8i1s and mnurderers! Jean Louis is not the weak coward that hhe was." The bricklayer manifestly xpceted death, and was resolved to meet it firmly. "t Take down a portion of that wall!" said Raymond, pointing to the implements Joseph had provided. Jean Louis gazed steadily before him. "It is not to build a wall, but to demolish one," said Joseph, shaking him by the shoul- der to bring him out of his stupor of dread. "I swear no one will harm you! This manis no criminal who commands your service." "I remember the two masks!" muttered the bricklayer. "Do not wall me up, I en- treat of you, but shoot me, or run me through the body! I know why the wall is to be opened. Alf! that is too horrible!" HHe shivered. "The two masks are not here," added Jo- seph. "This is young Monsieur Raymond De Villanville, and I am Joseph, the coach- man. We are not here to perpetrate crime, but to unvail it. You are as safe as if with your wife at home. Speak to him soothingly, my master. He is half dead with remorse and horror." "Curb your terror," said Raymond, kind- ly. "You are not the only one who suffers, Jean Louis. I am the son of him who caused this wall to be built. It is I who need pity, not you. Look A me, and see if there is crime in my face!?' Thle bricklayerofor the first time noticed Raymond; his thoughts began to descend from the dizzy height of fear, which they had gradually obtained through the pressure of circumstanees that had surrounded him for the last few hours. "s You only wish to look in.?" he said, in an altered tone. "s Here are implements," said Joseplh. "Will monsieur give me his land?" asked Jean Louis, vibrating between hope and fear. Raymond extended his hand, and the brick- layer grasped it. "Ah!" he exclaimed, *"I begin to believe you. Swear to me!" B By what shall I swear?" "By the East, the West, and the South." 'I swear!" "That I am safe?" "That you are safe." A Give me the tools; come nearer with the lantern." Louis spoke more calmly, although his hand shook as he inserted the point of the crow between the bricks, which gradually yielded to his efforts. One was removed, and then another and another, each successive one giving him less labor. The mortar rattled page: 92-93[View Page 92-93] upon the floor, while a sickening odor rolled out of the niche. Joseph turned away, nauseated. Raymond did not move, and the bricklayer kept steadi- ly at his work, expecting every moment to behold a shocking spectacle. A pile of bricks accumulitted on either hand of Jean. "Remove a few more at the bottom," said Rayluond, in a suppressed voice. The bricklayer obeyed. "That will do. Stand back. Give me the lantern, Joseph." The light had fallen feebly across the nar- row chasm and wall. The niche looked black and impenetrable to the eve. Louis had seen nothing, and had studiously avoided glancing into the space. He was glad to retreat. The stench was nearly overpowering. Rtymond advanced, and held the lantern within the niche. Joseph could not perceive th t lie shuddered, or manifested any irreso- lution; but he could but notice that his lips were white and his cheeks colorless. The foul gases extinguished the light in an instant, and Raymond stood quiet while Jo- seph relighted it. He waited, too, with the same impassiveness for the confined air to escape, then made a second attempt. Joseph anticiDated seeing his young master recoil, and fall down insensible; but no such thing happened. After standing a few seconds, Rarymond wedged his body through the chasm, and was within the niche. In his mind, there was a grim and mouldering skeleton; but in that narrow space there was none. There was a rusty chain on the floor. Where was the man in the wall? He, turned the lantern from side to side, till it rested upon a hole in the stone masoqry. What a herculean effort had been made for life! The shock of discovery had now come; he'should find the body burrowed in the earth, like a worm, where he had dragged it in the last wild efforts of his despair. An examina- tion revealed a drain beyond, with its slug- gish current of filth. Crawling forward thlrough the jagged passage, Raymond held t!e lantern into the pestilent stream. Imme- diately there was a hurried pattering of feet, and an innumerable army of rats went splash- ing along the drain. One, bolder than the rest, leaped upon Raymond, and was followed by another and another, till a stream of them poured over his person. With a single re- coil, he gained the niche, then sprang from it, shuddering at the contact of those damp, slimy feet. The rats swarmed after him, dis- persing in the extended vaults, leaving trails of filth as they went. "Rats I rats!" exclaimed Raymond, think- ing of Monsieur Commodore, the madman. "Joseph, where does this drain lead?" 4 To the Mississippi," said Joseph. I Raymond staggered, and leaned against an angle of tie wall. A new and well-nigh over- whelming conviction forced itself upon him. He was taint and weak. "Brick walls, and rats, and drains/" he muttered, He's going mad I' whispered Joseph. "The coincidence is extraordinary. It is -it must be so! Rats, drains, walls, a plunge into the river-it is De Noyan himself The incarceration and the vermin drove him mad. They attacked him in the drain. Nolwonder the shook overthrew his reason. Mon Dieu! there will be one murder the less. "This is too much for you, monsieur. I entreat of you to come away!" urged Joseph. "Let us hasten; it is very damp herel" said the bricklayer, trembling. "Lead on, Joseph. Outl business for the pre-ent is ended here. 'Jean Louis, follow us. t thank you for your services. We must talk together of another subject. I am your friend. See what a fiendish troop is pouring from the drain.! Hasten, Joseph!" - CHAPTER XXXV. THE CASE TRIED. "Edna?" '"Doctor Paul?" "Shall you keep that appointment?" "I shall. I cannot forfeit my word." "Very well, sister. I shall accompany you." "Thank you. You are very good, Doctor Paul. It would be quite embarrassing to go and return alone, although I'm sure nothing would happen. You can attend me to the door; then I'will go in and tell this young man he is a De Villanville, and I can see him no more." "But I must hear you tell him he is a DY Villanville. He is so handsome and insinuat- ing, that I dare not trust you with him. His sophistry would sweep you away in a mo- ment. What is woman's reason to man's art?" "You make me feel that every day, Doctor ,Paul." Brother and sister looked at each other af- fectionately. "Really," added the latter, "I was quite imprudent to listen to him. I feel vexed with myself. What can he wish to eay to me-? Pity my confusion, Paul." "You would have gone without those ,blushes, had I not chanced to overhearyou," retorted the other, gravelyz "i Put on your hat, mademoiselle, and let us go. The prom- ise is made, and must be kept. It is already dark." Mademoiselle Merigny could not conceal her embarrassment. She shrank from the eyes of her brother, and would gladly have recalled her engagement. She attired herself for the street with far less c6mposure than usual. "Spare me your reproaches, brother. I be- lieve it was compassion for the poor young man that made me humor his wishes. Think how terribly he is placed. Is lie not one to whom should be extended the helping hand of sym- pathy? His impetuosity, too, carried my assent by storm. I could not forget his kindness to you-I mean his kindness to me when your absence so alarmed me. It is but just that he should receive every courtesy from us. On his account, you ought to pause and forego your vengeance. Let God punish the guilty." "I may be'the humnble instrument He juses for the punishment of the guilty. Shall crime go unrebuked? Shall infamy wear a crown of glory? Edna, the De Villanvilles must fall!" They were now in- the streets. "Think well of this, Paul." "I have thought, and shall follow where duty leads, though the way be rough and thorny." "I will not argue, for argument ever made you more obstinate. But mercy seems more becoming to the human character than jus- tice; the first f qrgives, the second inflicts pain. Here we re at the door. I trembler Paul. Do not be too stern with Monsieur Raymond." "I shall consult my own honor and yours," answered the doctor, ringing the bell. While he was waiting to be admitted, he rend his placard in the window : "Gone out. Will be in soon." Vividly these simple words recalled to him the thrilling events of that exciting night when, he, first saw Catholina. The woman who had so perplexed Raymond opened the door, and greeted them in the most cordial manner. Her countenance had now meaning and vivacity. "In there!" she said, pointing. Edna and the doctor passed slowly into the apartment so familiar to them, and where the former had, on another occasion, received Raymond. 'It ws dimly lighted with a single wax candle. JaymonI stood in the back- ground, and bowed slightly as they entered. His features were no longer pale, but flushed ;, while his eyes were preternaturally brilliant. "You will pardon me," he said, " if I have been too prompDt. I have not forgotten, sir" -to the doctor- " that this is your house. I was bold enough to ask the honor of seeing Mademoiselle Merigny for a few moments; but you afford me double pleasure by coming yourself." These words were uttered in a tone of voice -that left Merigny in doubt in regard to their meaning. "Monsieur Raymond is very obliging," he said, stiffly. "Both of us, I believe,' are in- debted to your kindness." "And you wish to pay the debt?" inter- posed Raymond. "Is it not so." The doctor was slightly embarrassed, while Edna secretly enjoyed his confusion. "I regret," resumed Raymond, "to hear you speak of trifles that are not worthy to be remembered. It is not needful to give importance to such matters; in order to rid yourself gracefully of an undesirable ac- quaintance. I am one easily shaken off. I seldom aspire to that which is unattainable, or humble myself for that which is selfishy withheld. That I have been charmed by Mademoiselle Merigny, I am free to confess. I kn,w of nothing dishonorable in admiring that which is worthy of admiration. In pre- suming to love your incomparable sist, r, I am sure I offvr no disrespect to you. Though she is dearer to me than life, she is not dearer than mv honor. Mademoiselle," he continu- ,d, turning respectfully to Edna, "I did not intend that you should hear so much from my lips, but it being true, you will perhaps pardon it for truth's sake." "What does this exordium portend?" ask- ed Merigny. "Much, very much!" exclaimed Raymond, in a voice that made Edna start. "Things will be said in this room, that I trust in God never will be repented out of it. Doctor Paul Merigny, what have you to urge against my name and fame?" "This is extraordinary language!" said the doctor. !"Nay, good doctor, do not evade me; come to the point. Is not my name known to you 9' "It is." "As a gentleman and a man, and as the brother of mademoiselle, what charges have you to bring against the name of De Villan- ville?" "The conjuration is strong," answered Me- rigny, uneasily, " but you will pardon me if I remain silent." "With what I know, and you know, that is impossible," responded Raymond, pacing hurriedly to and fro. "Doctor Paul," said Edna, in a low voice, "do you not perceive that something has happened? Mark the wildness of his man- n-r! His eyes burn like lamps!" '- I know not the extent of your knowl- edge," the doctor replied; " but if you have learned any secrets peculiarly mine, it was certainly without my aid and consent." ' If I ventured to aspire to the favor of Mademoiselle Merigny, should you not most strenuously oppose my wishes?" "I should!" "And yet you would give no reason?" page: 94-95[View Page 94-95] "None!" said the doctor. "Except that I am a De Villalnville," add- ed Raymond, in a melancholy voice. "Why should we prolong this interview? Do we not understand each other?" said Merigny. ' "We do not understand each other! I un- derstand you, but you do not me. I know what is in your heart." "God forbid l" cried Doctor Paul, quite startled. The moment has arrived when disguises and concealments must be stripped away. You would lay the accusation of murder against the house of' De Villanville. You would drag the guilty inexorably to the tri- bunal of justice! You, who have had so much mercy, and expect so much, would show none 1" Monsieur and Madame De Villanville are the greatest of criminals!" "Doctor Paul! Doctor Paul!" cried Edna. "Mademoiselle, let him .proceed. Doctor Merigny, name the first crime." "Unhappy young man! Why do you urge me to this? Whycould you notl hae spared yourself and me this painful denoue- ment? Do not force me to go on. From my soul, I pity you. But I see you are reso- lute. You have nerves of iron. Ask Jean Louis, the bricklayer, where the first great crime was committed.", "In the vault?" said Raymond. "Your uncle, Philip De Noyan, was brick- ed up, alive, in a niche. That was the first crime," "The man in the well was'the first crime. What was the second, Doctor Merigny?" The doctor recoiled before the young man's searching eyes. "The second," he faltered, conscious of his own duplicity, "was the poisoning of Mademoiselle Catholina, your fair cousin." a She died of poison, doctor?' Raymond looked at Merigny, earnestly. "Poison, administered at different times," asserted the latter. "Will you have the goodness to look at this paper?" It was the certificate of Catholina's death. The doctor glanced at it and changed color. "Yes," he said, "I wrote thatfrom motives of expediency." "Very well; now for crime the third?" "My own life was beset on my return honie. I slew the slayer, and barely escaped with life." "The fourth, if there be indeed another?" "The attempted assassination of Jean Louis. an honest bricklayer, who was torn fromi his family at midnight, and compelled to build the fatal wall that entombed poor De Noyan. It was ffor this act that his life was beset." - "You have indeed brought a fearful array: of crime against those whom nature and duty teach me to love. I marvel not that you would rescue Mademoiselle Edna from a De Villanville. Here are shame and infamy enough to prevent me ever holding up my head again among men. But though I can- not Exonerate, I may palliate these acts. First, let me assure you that I relinquish all thoughts of Mademoiselle Merigny; that I abandon happiness and every place that has known me; that I shall soon be dead to her, to you, and to all who have seen me or spoken my name." "Monsieur, monsieur," interposed Edna, "whyv should you bear the sins of others so heavily?" "Mademoiselle, I thank you for those wolrds. They assure me, at least, that your sym- pathies rise above the terrible circumstances that hem me in like a wall of fire. Now I will proceed to extenuate, as I may, the errors that have embittered my existence. Raymond paused, advanced to the door, and called: "Monsieur! Monsieur!" Immediately a step was heard in the doc- tor's office, and a man with haggard cheeks and neglected beard entered the room. Me- rigny and his sister started involuntarily to their feet. "Who is this?" demanded the doctor. "The man in the wall " answered Raymond, with empressement. "It is the unfortunate De Noyan." "Impossible! Young man, do not trust to artifice!" exclaimed Doctor Paul. "Question him," replied Raymond. "You have heard what -this young gentle- man has said?" queried the doctor, fixing his regards on the man called Commodore. Tlhe latter turned his eyes vaguely to the ceiling, and said: "Rats! rats I rats 1" "This is a maniac," said Merigny, with a reproving frown. "Stoop low! Stoop low!" added the mad. man. "Tear them from your face and throat, and dash them into the filth. Hurry-hurry -you will be overpowered! One brave dash and you will reach the river. Ha, eha! Rats! rats! I Accursed be drains, and brick walls, and riches, and brothers!" Doctor Paul glanced at his sister. "Paul! my mind intuitively seizes the tern- rible truth," she said, hurriedly. "De Noyan-Philip De Noyan?" said Ray- mond. ' T!e madman started as from a dream, star- ed wildly around him, then relapsed into un- meaning vacancy, ,' Catholina!" said Raymond, softly. "Ah, God!' cried the man, in a touching \ voice. "What. was that? Did I not hear a strain of music?" He looked at Edna. t, Was it you, fair one! Strike that note again t" Doctor Merigny was agitated. The name of Catholina had affected him. It was like a talisman, awakening at once his hopes and 'his fears. ; :"Catholina " repeated Raymona, still more gently. "Calholina!" reiterated the man with the haggard face. "There was once something good, and sweet, and beautiful, associated with that name. What was it, I wonder? Where am I? Good bricklayer, note this sign." Tenderness, wildness, and fear, each strug- gled for expression in his face. "Is this artifice?" asked Raymond, with a haughty glance at Merigny. "No, no I 'tis truth," answered the doctor, greatly wrought upon. ' "By the East, and by the West, and by the South!" muttered De Noyan, holding up his thin, white hands. "By the square, and the compass, by the mallet, and the chisel, by the three great lights of the immemorial brotherhood!" The transparent hands waved and flickered in the air like the fitful flames of an expir- ing candle. The doctor sank into a chair, quite over- come, while a pale gleam of hope and joy fluttered over the face of Edna. Raymond led De Noyan to a seat, saying: "Most injured of men! Heaven will yet pity you." "The vermin do-not trouble me so much," sighed the madman. *' I will remain here; it is best that I sliould not go awav." Edna was affected to tears, and even Me- rigny, the stout-hearted, found it convenient to cough, and avert his face. "Is it proved, or- is it not proved?" de. manded Raymond, who continued standing, and whose countenance was gradually becom- ing pale. "Proved!" responded Merigny, sincerely, then. added "Monsieur, I beg of you to be seated " "Not," said Raymond, eloquently, "till I have plead for those whose exceeding love for me has led them astray. Remember it, my judges! It was exceeding love- for me that made them criminals. Is not this an argument in itself? Is not this almost a com- pliment to humanity? Consider it, Doctor Paul Merigny; you, who love youfr sister! Look upon me-a son, pleading for those whose blood gave him being." "Cease! cease!" cried Doctor Paul. "Look! Edna weeps I. too, shall weep like a woman, if you continue." , ' Nay, good doctor, I cannot be silent" The person of Raymond grew taller. here was a mournful and irresistible majesty about him. He now- seemedathe accuser, and the doctor the criminal. "With the second part of this strange his- tory," the young man continued, "you are but too intimately acquainted. You acted at first, in harmony with the best dictates of humanity. Should I live to be as old as the world, I could not thank you enough! It only remains to me to ask you to restore to me my sweet cousin Catholina." Doctor Paul was now deadly pale. He arose, drew forth his handkerchief, wiped the trembling drops from his brow, and sat down again. - "4 I have but one nope," added Raymond, "and that is Catholina. Edna looked breathlessly at her brother. She wondered what he would do? She que- ried if his honor would remain unsullied and transcendant? "Is cannot be false," gasped Merigny, "though my happiness hung on a lie! I make no unmanly evasion; I deny nothing. But she is mine! I snatched her from death! I prevented a murder. Do not rob me of one who is so endeared to me. You do not know what I suffered. The horrors of suspense are terrible l" 6' I know all; I have the confession of Jean Louis, the bricklayer." a Then you have the truth." "Do you not see the moral? The crimes ,that you charged upon those not to be named by me, have not actiually and in verity, beIen committed. Doctor Merigny, give me Catho- lina and let us part." , The face of Paul Merigny was the pieure of dismay, He glanced hopelessly a t Elna, who said: . "This demand is but reasonable, l$rotier. He has but her left, the others are dead." "What can I do?" faltered the doctor. Shall I tell her to leave me? Must I say, I Catholina, choose between a De Villanville and a Merigny.' What right have you to de- mand this? Was it your skill that' detected her peril? Was it your invention that saved her from impending doom? Was it your heart that ached and agonized over her long and pulseless trance? Was it your facethat she saw when she came back out of death and darkness?" "Jean Louis has faithfully narrated the thrilling story. I know what you suffered in those long hours. Her beauty charmed you, while her danger inspired terrn or. Wlho could resist Catholina? She is whiter than the lily, sweeter than the rose. There is but one other on earth so beautiful. One might break his heart for her without shame." page: 96-97 (Illustration) [View Page 96-97 (Illustration) ] "Catholina! Catholina!" murmured De Noyan, with an effort at memory. "You will drive me mad!" gasped MerigAiy i ", Can you not endure misery as well as I? Have I not abandoned, as hopeless, a love!as, sacred as vours? You have Edna. Is she not a treasure? Are you not satisfied with each other? Then!,ity me, who have no one to speak to; who will gopforth, to-morrow, a miserable wanderer, Catholiita shall not for- get you; she shall write; you shall hear from her." The doctor turned once more to Edna; he noted her flushed cheeks and moistened eyes; her clenched hands and heaving bosom. He walked across the room before be ventured to trust his voice. He came back, and standing near Raymond, pointed to Edna, "Is she not as fair?" he. asked. "Cathiolina alone can compare with hler. I shall bear away with me an undying remem-r' brance of her surpassing loveliness!" said Raymond, fervently. ' Edna?" "Doctor Paul 7" "Save Catholina!" "I?" "You! Plead with this inexorable young man. He will grant to you what he will not to me." "Paul, you overestimate my power. Be- sides, he is a De Villanville. We cannot com- pound and compromise with a De Villan- ville!" Edna smiled faintly. "We can-we can! I yield I I will object to nothing, providing your happiness be se- cured. Monsieur Raymond, yon shall not leave us. If you visit other lands, it shall be with us. We will be a party of four. But you never shall take her from my sight. She is necessary to the sum of my happiness. Yes, thus it shall be! In some distaut coun- try, we will forget our sufferings." "Cease, I entreat! You will kill mademoi- selle with shame. Her cheeks glow with re- sentment!" cried Raymond, amazed beyond measure at this turn of affairs. "If I interpret rightly, it is not resent- ment," answered Merigny, gently. "Heartless brother!" murmured Edna. & Your trading propensity quite shocks me. I believe you have 'no sense Of delicacy. So you would bargain me away. Ah, what bold- ness! How can I sit and hear you? Women, Doctor Paul, are to be sought. Do not im- agine I have no modesty, because I have been such a donting and fond sister as to be blind to your faults. What must Monsieur Ray- mond think of me?" "He told you very plainly, sister, I thought, when I overheard him this morning," observ- ed Merigny. "O mademoiselle, your brother's audacity terrifies me! I feel that I merit your dis- pleasure," stammered Raymond. "He would sacrifice me to a De Villanville, but, as a woman, I must have my own way. I will but amuse Monsieur Raymond while he bears off the prize. I will promiseno more." "For your unmerited condescension," cried Raymond, dropping upon one knee, "'I hum- bly kiss your hand! While honor, d with your notice, I shall be as happy as my fallen pride will permit." "For Paul's sake," answered Edna, "and your misfortunes, I fear I shall be but too good-natured." "Catholina shall he kept ns Ia hostage"' said Merignv, whose face now was wonderfully cheerful. "Improve your time, Doctor Paul, while I keep this young man at bay. When I have lost you, I'll go into a convent. I was once your idol, but now you have no worship but for Catliolina. Monsieur Raymond, I warn you of Doctor Paul He has been false to me, and le may be to yvoi. He keeps no treaties, and is the cruelest, kindest, dearest, and most inconstant fellow in thie whole world!" said Edna, playfully. "These De Villanvilles are not so bad, after all!" quoth the doctor. "Edna, you might let Raymond press the tips of your fingers. Ah! let him come with us to see Catholina. You can take his arm, and he will, perhaps, soften your resentment as you walk. I will follow with De Noyan. He mnust see his daughter; possibly the sight of her may re- store his reason." "Nay, brother, you lost your reason by see- ing her." I "I shall find it again. And then you are so very reasonable, that the loss of mine can scarcely be felt in the family. There! pro. ceed. Raymond, be good enough to lend mademoiselle your arm." So the little party left the house with very different feelings from those that agitated them when they ente-red it. The doctor went away without -the desire of retribution, Raymond without despair, and Edna with the warm glow of a new sentiment in her heart. CHAPTER XXXVI. CONCLUSION. \ The meeting of Raymond and Catholina was deeply affecting. He received her with tearful thankfulness, as one given back from the dead. Of the causes that had led to her temporary oblivion, nothing was said by eith., or. Respect to his grief kept Catliolina silent on every topic calculated to give pain. Gradu- ally, he informed her of the unexpected res- toration of her father. He did not tell her page: 98-99[View Page 98-99] all the. circumstances connected with his sud den disappearance, but wisely left that task to Doctor Merigny, who could communicate the details at such times and in such manner as he deemed less likely to shock her. He gave her to understand that illness had dis- ordered his mind, and that it washoped by the doctor that an interview with her would be the means of his recovery. The sight of her might possibly touch a responsive chord of memory, and reason return in a moment. When Catholina had become sufficiently calm, the experiment was tried. De 1Sovan was led into the room where his daughter awaited him-the latter having been instruct- ed by the doctor. No one spoke. De Noy- an's eyes wandered about till they rested up- on Catholina, where they remained fixed. Various emotions were then apparent. "Father!" said Catholina. The sound struck home to his heart. "Father!" she repeated. De Noyan trembled and, breathed hard. "My father, do you not know your Catho- lina?" added the daughter, throwing heraarms around him. "Who speaks? Who is this? What dream comes to me?" Tears flowed from his eyes; they rolled down his cheeks. "You recognize your Catholina, do you not, father? Speak to me " Nature proved stronger than madness; it burst the chains of insanity, and the captive mind went free. " My daughter! my daughter!" he cried. Full recognition followed; and not one d who witnessed the scene will ever forget it. There were no dry eyes there and then. I Raymond had other and less pleasing mat- I ters to engross his attention and call him I away. The night was quite advanced when I the young man, with melancholy footsteps, r approached the paternal chateau, which nev- er looked so dismal as on this occasion. "Ah," he sighed, "what a change will be here I Had ever son such terrible duty toa perform? But can I make them more mis- y erable Alas, no Their cup '8 already full. It shall be mine not to reproach, but g to soothe and comfort. Who knows that, af- tJ ter this hour, we shall meet again? The sight of me will be painful and humiliating, h calling back but too vividly the rememiran e of their sins." Raymond was, about mounting the steps, when the door was softly opened and some a one glided out. It was Pierre Lereau, with a 1 little trunk in his hand, Raymond stepped c0 back iteo shadow, somewhat, and when Pierre m descended, aprang forward and caught him by the throat. The fellow struggled volenSt- d- ly to free himself, but Raymond's hand 3k clutched him firmly. \ te "Villain! robber! assassin! Did you er think to escape unknown and unpunished?" [e ", Ah, it is you, is it?" gasped Pierre. s- "What means this violence? Let me go, I e say! Fool! You'll be sorry if you don't." e "I'd sooner have compassion on a viper *r that had bitten me!" retorted the young man, 5f furious with rage. "If you are then so headstrong; fake that!" Pierre drew a pistol; then for a moment i the struggle became fiercer, and in the midst r of it, the weapon exploded. Pierre cried out and ceased to resist; he had received the con- tents of the pistol in his breast. - "Ah, God! I 'die!" he exclaimed. -"I have been the dupe of the De Villanvilles. I have been inveigled into crime, that you, Monsieur Raymond, might be rich; that you might scatter gold with both hands. Behold my reward! Look between-look between -the-the-mat-mattresses of my bed, and you'll find my last-last will and testament. It is all I can do for you 1" He had supported himself against the cha- teau,'but now fell upon the ground, the blood flowing profusely from his wound. "I die," he muttered, "the dupe of the De Villanvilles. This is the reward of serv- ice. Accursed be the wages of the wicked! Raymond- Raymond-you'll be--ha, ha!- you'll be infamous! What word shall I carry to-to De Noyan and-and Catholina?" Raymond saw his eyes shining like glass in the dark. "None, none i" said Raymond. " De Noy- an escaped-Catholina lives, -" Pierre's face paled over in death before thae wild stare, of wonder had faded away. His head ,dropped lifeless upon' the little trunk. Raymond left him there, and entered the mansion. He went straight to the drawing- room, where, he had seen a light from. the street. The family had not retired. " Here comes Raymond!" cried madame. I know hig step. Ah, my son, this is an agreeable surprise. We were going to join you to-morrow." Raymoid 'embraced her, then pushed her gently from him. He shuddered when he thought of the spirit that was within her. "Raymond, my boy," said his father," you have not been very dutiful. You should have, written." Tie voice of monsieur was mournful. "My son," exclaimned madame, " your eyes are s^trangely 'w4d! I hope, you hlave not been daykin'g. to excess. We huae ,had the carri4,aggutl order; we wed ng in the "Yes, you- wil fgo,' answered Raymond, 'but not in a carriage. The water will be S page: 100-101[View Page 100-101] the best for you. It is healthier, mother, the other side of the sea!" t Madame looked at her son wonderingly. ( "There is blood on your hand, Raymond!"I "Andi on yours, madame!" "He addresses me as ' mnadnme.' Is it not i strange, Philip?" Madame glanced uneasily at her hand. i It is playfulness," replied her husband. "Monsieur Do Villanville, it is not play- ] fulness"!" De Villanville's attention was no longer wandering, but fixed on his son. "What is that frightful stain, Raymond?" queried madame, with a slight tremor. "The blood of a villain, madame." "Alas have you committed murder?" "Pierre is dead. He lies at the door with a little trunk, containing, probably, the fruit of his villainies, beneath him." "Phili'! Phil ip!" exclaimed the lady, looking fearfully at her husband. "Do you hear, what he is saying?" d , "Perhaps my father expected his death, added Raymond, marvelously calm. "Expected his death! Does my son accuse me?" De Villanville'svoice was quick and startled. "' Sudden deaths occur at this time more than any other," said his wife. "This pesti- lence cuts people down in an hour. Ray- mond, you pierce me with your glances!" "Pierre Lereau," added Raymond, with em- pressement, " did not die of -poison; he died of a pistol-ball." "Of a pistol-ball!" repeated mndame, still looking to her husband fur support. "Yes; you need no longer fear him. His teousing voice will never be heard. The dead tell no tales. Mother, the play is over! Let the curtain fall. I will notrecriminate. Far be it from me to utter reproaches or heap contumely upon your heads. It is enough that you will never know peace more, unless God in his mercy compassionates you." Raymond spoke with stirring solemnity. His father and mother shrank from him im unspeakable dread. A nameless terror was at their hearts. "Philip," shrieked madame, "we are stricken 1" "Leonora," gasped her husband, " we are stiieken I It was reserved for our son Ray- mond to do this." "We have loved you," faltered madame, "as never parents loved son!" - "I know how you have loved me. Would to God you had hated me! That you has strangled me at birth I That you had buries me alive I That you had consumed my vitall with slow-poison t That yolu had hired a vil lain to assassinate me as I walked the street by nightt" 'F A shriek, such as was never before heard in the chateau De Villanville, echoed and re- echoed through its solitary rooms. It might have been heard down to the vaults. "Mother of God, Philip! The long agony is over at last!" She claspea her hands, the picture of un- fathomable grief and wordless dismay. "Leonora," panted De Villanville, "the heavens have fallen! We areecrushed. We shall die with the hatred of our son Ray- mond." "Never, never with my hatred!" groaned Raymond. "My love shall pursue you even to death. It shall grope after you down the dark portals. But your crimes appall me." "All this," moaned De Villanville, " have we merited. But one thing more remains, and that is death." Madame fell .upon her knees, and walking upon them, tried to embrace the knees of her son.. He evaded her. *' Nav, mother, I cannot permit it! To me you shall assume no humble attitude. To God, alone, shall you bend that fair person. Think you I forget that it was love of me that led you to crime? Love, overgrown and mor- bid, vet love still?" "Hark!" exclaimed De Villanville. "Was that a trowel I heard?" "Yes, down in the vaults, where they made the grave of De Noyan!" responded Raymond, hoarsely. I His father's bands fell weak and powerless at his side. Madame screamed and groveled at the feet of her son, accuser, and judge. "O Heaven!" she murmured. "How sweet , i would be death! 'My darling boy, I gave you life; in return for the gift, give me death. It t was {with pain, my son, that I brought you into the world; by those sorrows, my Ray- ) mond, I conjure you to dismiss me from it. i "Catholina' Catholina, thy sweet image is s before me!" murmured Raymond. "Cruel! cruel!" sobbed madame. "He cannot see how love can turn to crime." a The young man paused; his purpose for a s moment faltered. -He struck his foot thrice upon the floor, as if to summon ghosts from e the vaults below "De Villanville turned his back toward his e wife and son, and then followed a stunning re- r- port. He did not fall. Raymond rushed to him. He had attempted his life. His under e, jaw was shot off. He had placed the muzzle to his mouth, but through too much haste, Id had done the fearful work imperfectly. Tot,- tering, with a hollow groan, he sank to the floor. - There was a rustling of feet and an opening 1- of doors. Catholina and De Noyan, her fath- ts er, entered with slow and solemn tread. The spectacle that met their eyes made their faces look as white as those spectral beings that Raymond had seemed to evoke. Raymond saw only the mutilated form of his father, who raised himself feebly, and stared at De Noyani and Catholina. 'Madame looked up, shuddered, shrieked, and became unconscious. "Father, forgive me!" entreated Raymond, falling upon his knees. ." These are not shades of the departed, but realities. De Noyan escaped through the drain. Catholina was saved by Doctor Merigny. In very deed, you have not committed murder. De Noyan, speak I Catholina, speak!" "By the mercy of God and Jean Louis, I live," said De Noyan. "By the mercy of God and Doctor Merig- ny, I also live," said Catholina. The voices recalled madane from her swoon. Monsieur held up his hands; an expression ot01 gratitude and joy beamed from his eyes, which trembled a moment and then closed for ever. Their last look was upon Raymond. Madame De Villanville was conveyed from the room insensible. Months elapsed before she recovered her reason. Raymond watched over her, meantime, with the most devoted affection; and it was his love that finally wooed her back to conscious life. Her penitence was undoubted and deep, and without affected demonstration. Catholina saw her but a few times. The delicacy of Raymond prevented the silent reproach of her presence. Finally madame disappeared, and the world knew her no more; but it was reported that she had immured herself in a convent. This was pro. bably true, for Raymond was known to make frequent visits to a distant monastery. The next 'year, a party of five persons, at- tended by two servants, one of whom was the faithful Joseph, traveled through the most interesting countries of the Old World. These were Doctor Paul and Catholina, who found it impossible to live apart; Raymond and Mademoiselle Edna, who had compromised so thoroughly that the doetoreno longer feared a rival; and the fifth, D6o oyan, whose health and happiness seemed complete. fJean Louis, the bricklayer of the Old Bar- rack, and Suzanne, his wife, kept the old cha. teau during a protracted bridal tour; and neither were haunted by the sound of a trowel in the vaults below. [Tal ZNI(.] page: 102 (Advertisement) -103 (Advertisement) [View Page 102 (Advertisement) -103 (Advertisement) ] ,FREDERBIC A. BRADY'S PUBILICATIONS. ri Books in this Catalogue are the Best and Latest Publications by moist Popular and Celebrated Writers in the World. They are also the most Readable and Entertaining Books published. Suitable for Parlor, Library, Sitting Room, Railroad, Steamboat, or Cham- b-- er Reading' "ATEST BOOKS, NIW READY. 4 otes on Steam, the Steam Engine Pro. pelers, &co. By Chief Engineer King, . S, N. 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