Mabel Lee
page: Illustration (TitlePage) [View Page Illustration (TitlePage) ]Ti e rna~n, Frucnes Chrst;io(Fjsia.r) B E L L EE. A NOVEL. BY THE AUTHOR OF "VALERIE AYLMER,"' "MORTON HOUSE," ETC. WIT!! ILLUSTRATIONS. NEW YORK: D.hAPPLETON AND COMPANY, 54.9 & 551 BROADWAY. 1872. M A @1 K.1 page: (Table of Contents) [View Page (Table of Contents) ] BETERED, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871., Dr D. APPLETON & COMPANY, In the Office of the Llbrarlsn of Congress, at Washington. i2~AQ I, I OOKTEI{TS. CUAP. 1.-MAKING UP HIS MIND, 11.-MABEL LEE.................. 111.-MABEL GIVES ADVICE,. IV.-AN UNEXPECTED MEETING, V.-HEBE IN A RIBBON-SHOP~ VI.-IN THE GARDEN~ ~. VIL-MR. AINSLIE'S EXPERIMENT, VIII.-TAKING COUNSEL, IX.-PLAIN SPEAKING, X.-FORESHADOWINGS, XI.-" IN A GONDOLA," NIL-ON THE WIN(~~ XIII.-MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM, XIV.-THE ROSE BY THE WATER'S EDGE, XV.-A FAIRY FLITTING, PAGE 5 11 14 19 23 29 24 41 48 54 61 66 I~3 82 CEAP. XVI.-OONFLICTING EVIDENCE~ XVIL-UNDER SUSPICION, xvm.-vox roi'ui,. . . XIX.-A FORGERY, XX.-~-A LOST TRINKET, XXI.-ALL AT SEAT XXII.-BROKEN DOWN, XXIII.-ON THE TRACKS XXIV.-TWO HEADS ABE BETTER THAN ONE . XXV.-THE DOUBLE SEAL 01? BLOOD, XXVI.-THE WAGES OP SINS XXVIL-THE EVIL THAT MEN DO LIVES AFTER THEM~ . 8? 1 XXVIII.-INTO THE SUNLIGHT, . . 1~8 PAGE 90 9? 103 108 114 J.1~ 122 12? 182 185 144 152 page: 0[View Page 0] MABEL LEE. CHAPTER I. MAKING UP 1115 MIND. Thnnn had been a shower in the earlier part of the day, but the April afternoon was very fair and peaceful, full of the fragrance of opening blossoms, the rustle of half-grown leaves, the glitter of rain-drops, the glimmer of capricious sunlight, the twitter of full- throated birds, the tender beauty, and the whole indescribable charm of the spring- time, when a sturdy horseman rode up to the door ~f Seyton House, and calling to one of two negro boys, who were makingg a great deal of play and very little work for themselves on its broad, green lawn, asked * where their master was. "You'll find him in the liberty, Mr. Blake," answered the nearest one, touch- ing his hat, with that subtle mixture of re- spect and familiarity only possible to the ser- vant of the ancient re'gimc.~ "He looked out of the window a little while back, and axed if you hadn't come y~t. Hold Brown Jerry? Yes, sir. Mus' I take him to the stable'?" "No," said Mr. Blake, dismounting as he spoke. '~ No-I sha'n't be long, Walk him till l~e cools oft; and then fasten him here. What are you doing, or pretending to do?" "Rolling the lawn, sir. Mr. Farris se1~ us at it." "Mr. Farris might better have stayed to see it done~ then. You may tejI him so, when he~ comes. In the library, did you say?" Although ho ~is~ke.d the q~uesi4on, he 4id not wait for an ai~swer, but strQde away at~ once, skirting tJ~e lofty frpnt~p~~'tie&, the jutting bay-windows, and the niaujy angles in which Seyton, Hojise abounded, until lie turned suddenly upon a hroad terrace set out with vases and balustrade in the Italian style, and commanding, a~striki~gly magi~fi- cent view-a. view so~ magufficent, ix~d~ed, and so important in the story which is to come, that it merits afew wo~ls of careful description andoareful attention. First, however, i1~ may be well tp state that Seyton House was o~e of those solid and somewhat stately r9lics of colonial times which are yet tQ be foun~l, at $i4er- vals throughout Yi~rginia. ani the Carolinas, and that it h~d been b~iilt by ~ of the many Cavalier aslventurer~, pf. good, blood but scanty fortuile, who tbrQnged t}ie~hores of America during the reign pflizabeth and her Stuart 5uccessQr8-~--one ~whpu~ atm- gent cirouins~auops, cl4efiy, of ~ pecuniary nature, foi'cqd froni th~ g~y,~h4de~ Q~J4te~ hall; whoa after cruising. with. thej~ld, buo- caneers of the Caribkea~ ~a, and doi~gj~t- tie with the warlikp flidians Qf ~ El Dorado, at last chanced upon l~i~Vmjn.e, of virgin gold to~seek wh~ch he l~ed ~etfqrth on hi~ lifa of adventure. Years jxa4 been~ spent in the search; however, end, when ftr- tune at last came, youth and ,t~he capacity of enjoyment were alike goi~e fron~ him. The king he had served was~ an ~xil~, ,tbe boon compaiAons, ~f ibis eld revels ~w~re scattere4 tu~d gone; the women, l~e hed loved were 4Qad, or-worse yet I-old; and page: 6-7[View Page 6-7] 6 MABEL LEE. MAKING UP HIS MIND. 7 ugly; so, sadly enough, he resigned him- self to the trite fact that change and time stand still for no man, and prepared to en- joy his wealth where he had found it. He settled, therefore, in the colonies, drank King James's health to the end of his life, and died at last, leaving behind him two more than ordinarily enduring monuments of his existence. One was this stately house which bore his name; the other, a charge upon his descendants never to part with, or suffer this inheritance to be alienated from them, but, in case the entail expired, to re- new it immediately. Under English law the fulfilment of this requirement had been very easy, but, when the government changed~ hands, it became more difficult; yet, even then, family pride found such good means to compass its end, that for more than ahundredyears the Seytonpropertyhad remained intact, chiefly through a peculiar family custom, which in time became a fam- ily obligation. This custom made it bind- ing on every third possessor of the house to ~renew the entail (which, according to American law, could not be extended be- yond one generation), securing the noble old mansion and the broad lands for which the Seytons could still show King James's grant to one direct heir, and thus preserving them from the indignity of division and spoha- tion. This was the Seyton tradition, and, up to the time of which we write, no Sey- ton had ever betrayed the trust given to him, or taken advantage of that power which rested with every third one-the power of ceasing to renew the entail. Thanks to this wise policy, there was no such place, far and wide, as the Seyton place;' no such stately old house, full of the savor of well-preserved antiquity; no such grand old trees as those that girdled it; no sui~h treasures of pictures, plate, and furni- ture, as those with which it was filled; no such fertile fields and royal woods as those that stretched around it, far as the eye could reach, and no such view as that which could be gained by standing on its southern ter- race. For the dead and gone Cavalier who first selected this site for his future home, must have owned sonfething of an artist's eye, and an artist's love of the beautiful. At least he had placed his new eyry on the most commanding height of all the undulat- ing country, crowning a lofty hill, like some l5lhineland castle, while at its feet rolled the most beautiful of all our beautiful southern streams-that lovely Ayre, which, sweep- ing down through all the rich lowlands and fertile plains, never loses the crystal pu- rity of its mountain birthright, until it is whelmed in the vast Atlantic. Standing on the terrace of Seyton house, it would be hard to say how many miles lay spread out like a panorama before the gaz- er's eye-miles of green slope and flashing water, of graceful hills and cultivated val- leys, of waving woods and distant moun- tains, of oil things fair and dainty; and beau- tiful it seemed, as the April sunlight rested on them, bringing out the delicate emerald of early spring, the clouds of tinted blossom, the flickering vicissitudes of light and shad- ow, and the crystal depths of the river that lay under the tender sky, as blue and peace- ful as an Italian lake. The broad lawn, the shrubberies and gardens of the house, stretched away on the other side, and made the approach very beautiful; but here the ground shelved down abruptly in almost precipitous descent to the river-side. There was a narrow foot-path which wound down the face of the bluff; but only those who were at once very sure-footed and very sure- headed did well to try it; while, leaning over the balustrade, it was possible to drop a stone directly down, a distance of eighty feet, into the limpid waters below. A short distance up the stream lay a small island, which looked fair enough and picturesque enough to have been the haunt of fairies and elves unnumbered-an island half a mile in length, by a much narrower width, and a perfect wilderness of trees and flowers; a place which was garlanded from end to end by jasmine and honeysuckle, and was a very popular resort for picnic-parties, Who often came in force from a pretty town that not very far off nestled against the river, and bore its name. Tow, when Mr. Blake came out on the terrace, he paused ent, and looked round him. N~ot t the ospect--for he' was familiar eno eh ~~ith th -but at the house, whose long French windows ~th only modern improvement about it) opened on this side to the ground. The bright af. ternoon was all around and about, dazzling him with its glory, however, and it was not until a voice, musical enough for a woman's, said, "Here I am, Blake," that he recog- nized the near neighborhood of his employ- er, Mr. Seyton. Even then he did not see him, but, shading his eyes with his hands, looked eagerly toward the house, in search of the familiar face that should have accom- panied those familiar tones. For they had lived together forty years, these two, in a companionship as intimate as their different positions would allow. It was a long time, and yet, to one of them at least, it seemed only yesterday when he had been a poor Irish boy, fresh from an immigrant-ship, without a shadow of character or recom- mendation, whom Mr. Seyton had taken in- to his employ out of the simple charity of his charitable heart. It had been a mere impulse of kindness with him, touched as he was by the boy's haggard face and straightforward story, but perhaps the prov- erb concerning those who entertain angels unawares was never better i1justr~ted.- Certainly the fine gentleman who stopped his horse, and listened to the ragged lad who rose up from a wayside stone to speak to him, did little, it would seem, which any * Christian might not have done, yet our good deeds come back to us sometimes with.the royal usury of heaven, and out of all the days of his life this 'day was the one which Gervase Seyton had most cause to bless, now that time had rolled on and made them both old men. He had been at that time loaded to the very earth with hereditary debts and liabilities - debts and liabilities which he saw no means of meeting, without being the first of his race to break in upon the domain set aside for entail-and it was this poor boy whQ seemed specially sent to clear off the incubus, without suffering a single rood of the old land to pass from the old name. I~obody had ever called Mr. Blake an over- seer, since the early days when he had been promoted to a position, for which there is no eract American term, but which in Eng- land would have been at once steward and confidential agent; and for nearly half a cen- tury the entire management of the Seyton estate had rested in his hands. The busi- ness talent he possessed was so great that he might have made a dozen fortunes for himself while he had been Working in the Seyton interest, and making the Seyton property thrice as valuable as it ever was before; but there was something almost pathetic in his dogged devotion to the per- son and interests of the man who had stood. between himself and starvation; the man' who seemed to the rest of the world only a graceful, fine gentleman, somewhat givento the weaknesses of dilettante and valetudi- nan, but whose bpst points and highest vir- tues were perhaps known only to God and this one honest heart. "Here I am, Blake," said that musical voice again, and this time with a decided petulance. "What a time you have been, to be sure!" "I couldn't help it, Mr Seyton," an- swered the other, as he came toward the' window from which the sound proceeded ; "I rode over to see Mr. Gross about the bottom-land he has been trespassing upon; so I didn't get your message till about half an hour ago.~~ "Did you come over at once, then?" "Yes, sir, I did, without losing a mm-- ute." "That is to say, without your dinner.' Just like you, Blake. I don't think I ever knew any man before so careless of his di- gestion. Go, and make Mrs. I~esbitt give you something to eat." "Thank you, sir," said Blake, with a smile, "but I had rather not. It upsets me~ to eat out of my regular times, and I either take my dinner at twelve, by the stroke of, the clock, or not at all. I would not know what to make of myself if I went to dining at this time of day." "It is not late excepting by a barbarian standard of time," said Mr. Sexton. "You had' better take something." "If it's all the same to you, sir, I'd rather not." "It's not all the same to me, in the least -but I don't suppose you care about that, as long as you have your own obstinate page: 8-9[View Page 8-9] S MABEL LEE. MAKING UP HIS MIND. wny. I give you up, Blake-I give you up! and you had better take a seat." Mr. Blake was accustomed to being given up by his employer, so he submitted ve~ry; quietly, and took the indicated seat. Than he fanned himself slowly with his broad straw hat, and waited for Mr. Seyton to speak. The room which he had thus uncere- moniously entered was very luxuriously furnished, but somewhat sombre in effect, owing to the book-lined walls and dark oak- en panels; a room abounding in depths of shadow, which even the bright April sun- shine could not disperse, and from out whose mellow twilight white statues and husts gleamed with an almost spectral ef- fect; a room that was moderate in size and ~er3r -perfeet in appointment; wher~ Mr. ~eyfonspunt the major part of his life, and i4iioh therefore reflected, as in a mirror, much of his character and habits-plainly thu room of a scholar more elegant than profound, but of one Who also possessed a keen appreciation and love of art, which was rafs indeed in his day and generation-and a room that made a very effective back- ground. for the two men sitting by the open window. They were curious contrasts, thete two meli! -~-cui~ious examples of the power of that bidden force which we call sometimes aympiithy and sometimes attraction, and whioh, overleaping all barriers of diverse oa~te'and diverse nature, had brought them together out of the world - equal in one sense, at least-as friends. Tha one so bhiff and hearty, so tall and strongly built, with health and resolution, a~nI iiit~llect of a certain sort, too, in every line ~f the honest bronzed face, and every glance of the clear blue eyes !-a man whom t~e:verie~t' skeptic in human goodness and human honor might have trusted blindfold; yeta Maii of Whom knaves and swindlers woul&ha.ve steered Qlear by instinct; a man who could sooner have translated Chaldaic th~nooncealed a feeling, or practiced a sub- terfuge, and who, it was easy to see, pos- sb~s~4 to the full t'he courage and devotion tg~d faithfulness tha.t have made his race * famous; a man so full of vitality, that his mere presence made ordinary men ashamed of their dyspeptic stomachs and failing legs; whose hands were hardened by the toil of half' a century, but whose port was as up- right, whose stroke was as vigorous, and whose seat in the saddle Was as sure, as ever at twenty-five. The other, so slenderand pale and grace- ful, so evidently the finest of fine gentlemen, as he leaned back in the depths of his pur- ple-velvet chair, and looked at the sturdy yeoman, who sat before him. All his life long, people had called Mr. Seyton an ex- ceedingly handsome man, yet his lX3atures were almost too delicate for masculine beau- ty, and his figure was slight even to fragil- ity, while the fret outstretched before him, seemed tiny enough to have worn Cinderel- la's slipper, and the fair, blue-veined hands that rested on his knees looked as if noth- ing, save lace ruffles, should have fallen over them. Of its own type, however, his style was very perfect, for he was one of the men -and they are rare enough-upon whom the seal of refinement is so plainly set that iio outward circumstances can affect om~ out- ward disguises conceal it. If Mr. Seyton had been dressed in homespun, and placed in a garret, he would have looked, if any thing, more strikingly patrician than here under the shadow of his own roof-tree. Just at present he wore a loose morning- coat of black velvet, and the soft rich fabric suited him as nothing else could possibly have done; suited his transparent complex- ion and high-bred face; suited the brown eyes that had once been reckoned very fas- cinating; suited the silken curls of golden- brown hair-the hair that never grows gray, unless from sorrow or terror-suited his whole appearance, which seemed. more that of some petit-maitre of the sixteenth century, than a commonplace man of the commonplace to-day. Finding at last that Mr. Sexton did not seem' disposed to break the silence, Mr. Blake took that office upon himself. "Since you have sent for me, sir, I sup- pose that you have made up your mind." It was hesitatingly said, and there was plainly anxiety of 'some unusual sort in the gaze directed so earnestly toward' Mr. Sey- ton-the gaze which Mr. Sexton did not meet.' On the contrary, he looked straight out of the window, with those dreamy brown eyes of his, as he answered, in the same low, musical tone: "Well-yes, Blake. I think I may safe- ly say that I have made up my mind." The other leaned eagerly forward. "Well, sir? "Well, Blake-" A moment's pause, then Mr. Seyton suddenly flashed his eyes full upon those of his companion, with two short Words, "Philip Conway!" After that, there was a profound still- ness. Mr. Sexton was the first to speak. After a while he leaned forward, and laid his soft, white hand on the two hard rough ones that were locked together over Blake's hat. "Old friend, ~ he said, '~vith the winning gentleness that all his life long had wiled so many hearts, "I knew it is hard on you, but try and forgive me. Try and understand me." "Sir," said Blake, hastily, "it isn't tlust -it isn't myself-it isn't any thing but__" There came a warmer pressure of the two hands that still obstinately held them- selves together. "iDo you think I don't know what it is?" he asked. "Do you think I don't know that you are considering me-the poor life that is not worth an hour's pur- chase, remember-and these broad acres that you have saved from the usurer's clutches and th~ auctioneer's hammer?" "I'm thinking of you-of nothing else," answered the other, brusquely. "As for the land, I saved it for you, and if-and if you were not here, it might go-anywh~re, to-morrow." "You saved it for me, yes," said Mr. Seyton, "but in doing that, you also saved it for the name. We must remember that, both of us; ana yet,' my poor Blake! it would hurt you to'see the fruits of your toil in spendthrift hands." "It would hurt me, sir, but not an hour longer than it would hurt you." "Well, it would not hurt me at all- after I Was once laid down to rest in the graveyard yonder-even if Philip Conway oomdd dissipate property which will bestrict~ ly entailed upon his heir." "Sir," said Mr. Blake, and hi~ voice rose into something of solemnity-" sir, [ have told you that I am not thinking of the prop. erty. I tell you so again. I will even swear it, if you like." "Then what are you thinking of?" "That I fear harm and evil from any one who bears the Conway name, or owns, a drop of the Conway blood." "Harm! Towbom?" "To you. To all who may now or here- after be brought into contact with the man you would make your heir." "But what reason have you for saying I this? Have you ever heard any thing against my nephew?" "Never, sir. But I know the blood." "So do I, for that matter, and distrust it as heartily as you can. But it is only fair to give the boy the benefit of a doul~t. He is half Seyton, you know."' "Sir," said Blake, whose earnestness seemed to deepen, "the water in this vase is very pure and good now, but if you pour even so much as one drop of poison in it--- would you like to drink it, then?" There is something very unansWerable in a sudden practical illustration, even if that illustration, as in the present instance, be not altogether a just one. Mr. Seyten was a good deal of a philosopher, and v~y fond of dealing in metaphor, but he fou#d himself looking at the vase which had *0 well served his companion, without an~ ~i- swer ready, either to silence or i~ebiiku. Whereupon, Mr, Blake seized his opportu- nity, and went on: "Sir," he said,"I know you too wolf to think I can offend you by speaking plainly. Of all the base and cruel men X ha#e aver known, the Philip' Conway, whom your sis- ter married, and who was killed La a duel for foul play at a gambling-hell, was' Limo most base and most cruel. Sir-Mr.' Beytou -you are fond of this 61d house of yours; 'are you willing to put it into the hands of that man's son?" "It' will be entailed." "What of that? Are any ofi~is bloOd likely to be more trustwoi'tliy?" page: 10-11[View Page 10-11] 10 MABEL LEE. MABEL LEE. 11 "You are the most thoroughly unreason- in favor of Philip Conway, without know- able fellow I ever knew," said Mr. Seyton, ing him-that I send for him, and give us somewhat indignantly. "1 must make my both an opportunity to know him?" will and renew the entail. You heard the Mr. Blake looked at his master a little doctor when he told me that this heart-dis- doggedly. "I'm opposed to any thing that ease may carry me off at any moment-and will bring Philip Conway under this roof," I must find an heir. Kow, the choice rests he said, slowly. between Philip Conway and-" "But why? What ~re you fearing for? "And your younger sister's son, Cyril My life ?-your life ?-or the plate-closet?" [larding. Why not take him I" "What Pm fearing for, I could not tell Mr. ~eyton shrugged his shoulders with you, sir, if I wanted to; but I wish I was as a gesturee half of petulance, half of disgust. sure of my eternal salvation as that Philip "You have your own prejudices, Blake; Conway will bring harm to this house, if he grant me a little grace with mine. I feel as ever lives to enter it." if I had taken an emetic whenever you men- Again the solemnity of his voice and tion that milksop." manner-his earnestness, his almost passion "I never heard any harm, sir, of him or -had their effect upon Mr. Sexton. He of his father." paused-and how different would have been "You never heard one of his father's one life, at least, if he had paused to some sermons, then. The hours of agony he used purpose! Ah! it boots little in the great to inflict upon me! And then he was such sum of human existence-such retrospection a confounded prig." -or we might often, perhaps always, trace "It does not follow that his son is, how- the winding of the thread of mortal agony ever." or mortal crime to some such moment as "Doesn't it? So, then, it's only poor this-soi~ne moment when the heart and the Philip Conway's gambling and bullying that hand were alike free to choose the good or are to be considered hereditary; not Tom the ill, and when the one was deliberately Harding's insufferable dulness~nd self-suffi- put aside and the other accepted. eie~ey," For the impression made by Blake's "Dulness and self-sufficiency are-" words was, after all, only momentary, and, "Cardinal virtues in your eyes just at when Mr. Seyton spoke again, it was rather present, no doubt," interrupted Mr. Sexton, coldly. impatiently. "But, for my part, I would "I must repeat that I think you are un- take the Conway vices in preference to the reasonable, Blake ; but I will concede even harding virtues any day." thus much more. I must send for Philip "Would you, sir?" Conway; bat I will also send for Cyril "Yes," returned Mr. Seyton, "I woi~ld. Harding, at the same time, so that I can l.a entirely a question of taste, you see." fairly and dispassionately judge, not which "If you put it on that ground, sir, I I like best, but which will make the best have nothing more to say; perhaps, indeed, master for this heritage that it has fallen I ought to beg pardon for having said so upon me to bequeath. Does that satisfy much." you?" The 8turdy figure rose to its feet itt those "If it must, it must, sir," said Blake, words, but, before it knew what was corn- with a deep sigh. "You are very good to big, felt itselfpushed back into the chair by give into me so far. I can't ask you to do Mr. Seyton's outstretched hand. any more, but-I can wish that Philip Con- he ~ there, Blake, and don't be foolish," way will break his neck before he ever said, half laughingly. "Pardon, indeed! crosses the threshold of Seytoii House." Who has a better right 'than you to speak "Blake, Blake, I'm ashanied of you!" of an heir for the land you have saved? "Indeed, then, sir, you needn't be, for Oo~ne, suppose I compromise with you? I'd never have said it, if there was even the Snppose-..aince you will not agre&to a will least hope of any thing so lucky happening. Oh, sir, there would be none of all this trou- ble if only-" "Well, dear old fellow, if only what? The honest Celtic eyes wandered round the stately room, and the broad, deserted terrace, where never a child's voice had echoed, or a child's foot danced in long years. Then he said, quickly: "If only your own son' was standing by you now, to take up the burden when you lay it down." Had the April sunshine suddenly grown dim, or were there quick, rushing tears in Mr. Seyton's soft brown eyes? Yet he only laid his hand gently on the broad shoulder beside him, and after a moment said, qui- etly: "Then wish that I had been more pa- tient, and another less fickle; wish that the grave could give back its dead, and that I might see again the face it has held for thirty years." The words had scarcely passed his lips when a flood of golden light poured sudden- ly across the room, the curtains of the win- dow were drawn back by a pair of hands that might have belonged to Titania, and the face of which he had spoken looked in upon him. -4-- CHAPTER II. MABEL LEE. A r~cn that was well worth the con- stancy of twice thirty years, so delicate, so beautiful, so almost spiritual was its loveli- ness. But not in the least a face that looked as if the grave had surrendered it. There were earth's own tints in the exqui- site wild-rose complexion, in the sunny hair, and the quivering, childlike lips there was even earth's own mischief gleaming in the deep, violet eyes. After one momentary start, Mr. Seyton held out his hand with a smile of welcome, than which no lover's was ever brighter or warmer. "Ab, Mab, my darling! what brings you on ~ like a ghbst or an elf?" "Like a fairy, if you please, godpapa," answered the sweetest and clearest of girl- ish voices. "Only fairies bestow such gifts as I have here for you-only you must guess what it is before I give it to you." ":Not strawberries, Mab, surely?" "Ah, you wicked old conjurer! You saw the basket." "On my honor, no. I only guessed that because I thought it impossible. Farris has none yet." "Show Mr. Farris this, then, with my compliments." And the next moment a slight, blue- robed figure had flitted past Mr. Blake, and deposited on Mr~ Seyton's knee an offering that the fairies themselves might not have~ have been ashamed to bring-a graceful lit- tle basket, lined with moss, and filled to the brim with luscious strawberries. "l~Tow, Mr. Blake, is it not 'pretty,?" cried the young lady, appealing to her only convenient witness; "is it not pretty, and ought not Mr. Farris to be ashamed of him- self? It will be two weeks yet, godpapa, before you taste a strawberry from your own vines." "And where, in the name of all tle fair- ies, did you find these, Mab?" "They were grown f~or the queen of the fairies' own table; but I lifted them, and here they are." "But do you, know the penalty, pretty one?" "Falling under her majesty's power? I believe I should like that. Think of a moonlight flitting with a prince in a green- and-gold hunting suit.-Mr. Blake, ~rould not that be better than being soberly' mar- ried by Father Lawrence 'to my cousin Fran- cis, or-or to some one else just as stupid? ',' "I don't know, Miss Mabel," said Mr. Blake, with his genial laugh. "Would the prince bring you back again? If not, I ~ for your cousin Francis, or~xne~ne else just as stupid."' ' "I will tell Cousin Francis that," said the girl, ~ayly; "but ,I shall wait for my prince, nevertheless.-Godpapa, I hops he will have eyed like your's and hair that curls as softly, and, above all, your brow. It is perfect." page: 12-13[View Page 12-13] 12 MABEL LEE. MABEL LEE. 13 "Is it, Mab?" "Quite." Aud in token of approbation she leaned over the back of his chair, and kissed it. They made a pretty picture, those two, as they were thus grouped together in the soft, mellow gloom, and, oddly enough, that little scene came back to Mr. Blake's mind, whenever he thought of the chain of events whi9ll dated a beginning on this afternoon. Long afterward-when the mere thought of it brought hot tears to his eyes-he remem- bered how lovely Mabel Lee had looked, as she bent over her godfather's chair that evening. One rounded arm, from which the loose sleeve had fallen back, was thrown into relief by the rich purple velvet against which she leaned, her light muslin dress enveloped her in a sort of cloud, her bright g~4den hair crowned her like a diadem of glory, band her eyes, that were deep and tine. ~iud tender as those of any virgin saint, resle&'fondly ~on the head she had all her life been taught to love and honor. It was Mabel lee's aunt-~-her father's only s~ister-7-w~o, having once been engaged to Mr. Sexton, had jilted him, nobody knew how, to marry another man, nobody knew why, and die ~ry speedily-some people saidef a broken heart; others, of neglect and il~ usage. However that was, she died, and the gossips had never again need to cc,~iple Gervase Seyton's name wjth that of any living woman. He had not diffused his a~ectiQDs yery widely before this; bnthe now. narrowed them down to the brother of his lost~ love, and, after a while, to the girl. 'o.hor~ hex name, and seemed to have inherited' the beauty which had made her faino~is-4he girl upon whose, entrance into life. there rested a dark cloud of terror and her, For, shortly before Makel's. birth, faVlx~r, acting against Mr., Sey~on's urgent adyice, invested largely in a speculat- r 'iirg~bubhle~f"soms~ friend, who promised to make not one, but a dozen fortunes for hi!n, at~d was, rewarded as dupes ef his class ge~ral1y are-.--that is, one~ fine day there ca~e~tJ~tejn~vitable crash; the scheme, proved a swin4k~ ~he friend a 'scoundrel, and Mr. Lee, overwhelmed by ruin, became insane. Nut being closely~watehed, he found a pistol, loaded it, locked himself up with it, and when his wife, who had been absent, re- turned, she found his brains spattering the walls of her chamber. This was the tragedy which ushered Mabel into the world; and it was Mr. Sey- ton who named her at the hurried baptism which took place just after her birth, while her mother lay raving of the awful horror so lately enacted. Nobody thought tho frail infant would live, but, nevertheless, she did-lived to grow into a child so exqui- sitely lovely that people held their breath when looking at her-into a maiden so peerlessly beautiful that high and low alike yielded her homage. There was no dis- senting voice about her beauty, as there is about the beauty of most women; and no- body was ever heard to hint that it could be improved. :Neither did it move anybody to envy, for in all the country-side there was no one so well loved as this girl, the pathos of whose mournful birth some people thought they saw reflected in her eyes- eyes which might be grave or gay, laughing or serene, but which, in any mood, never lost a ,certain deep shadow of sadness that rested in their depths-such a shadow as that which, according to the Old-World superstition, marks those specially set aside for misfortune, either in life or death. Said Mabel at last: "Godpapa, you are talking business with Mr. Blake, were you not? Don't let me interruj~ you. I will go out on the terrace, and you can tell me when you are finished." "We finished before you came in, lady- bird," answered her godfather, smiling.- "That is, unless this obstinate old fellow has something else to say.-Eh, Blake?~' "No, sir," answered, Mr. Blake, bringing his attention back to the subject under dis- cussion, and almost unconsciously heaving a deep sigh-" no, sir; if your mind's made up, that's enough. All I have to say now is, that I hope you may never live to regret it." "Anglicl-you hope I may live to re- gret it, and you may live to triumph over me?" Mr. Blake shook his head as ho rose, still holding his hat in one hand. "You know better than that, sir. I hope with all my heart I may be the falsest prophet that ever spoke; but I still think I will prove a true one. Remember that, sir; I still believe in my instinct." "Never a doubt of it," said Mr. Sexton, good-humoredly. "But I tell you what I mean to do, Blake. I know you have a great respect for Mabcl's judgment. I mean to consult her." "Do you, sir?" said Mr. Blake, with a comical glance at the childlike creature before him. "Do you? Then take my advice, and don't show Miss Mabel the like- ness you have of Mr. Philip Conway." "Why, Mr. Blake?" asked Miss Mabel, a little curiously. "Why, ma'am? Faith, and onlybecause you'd' never be a woman if you didn't like him the better for his handsome face." "Mr. Blake, you are a slanderer! I refer you to my cousin, Mr. Francis Nowdll, for a refutation of that." "Ay, ay," said Mr. Blake, with a some. what grim chuckle. "I know you don't fancy Mi'. Nowell overmuch; but I for one can't see his good looks, and I doubt if you'd see them either, by the side of this picture Mr. Seyton's got." "Godpapa, show it to me this instant." "No, no" said Mr. Seyton, laughing. "I must not bribe your judgment, or Blake would never believe in it. You shall see it after I have heard your opinion.-Blake, are you going?" "I must, sir. I have to see Martin yet this evening, and give him' directions about replanting the cotto~a to-morrow." "Pahaw 1 there's no' hurry about that. Stay and have a sociable smoke." Mr. Blake only, smiled. The Seyton estate would never have been what it was, if he had yielded to the temptations to idleness and pr~crastinatiou ever held out to him by this indolent master of his. "N'ot this evening, thank you, sir," he said. "But I will see you again to-morroW. -~-Miss Mabel, I hope you left your mother and Miss Constance well?" "'Quite well, thank you, Mr. Blake. You must call' and see mamma soon. She was saying, only the other day, that she would like to have your advice about-about the asparagus-beds, I think it was." "The asparagus-beds are more in Mr. Farris's line," said Mr. Blake, sxiilling; "lint I may be able to give her a hint or two, and I'll call to-morrow." Then, bidding them both good-evening he stepped through the window, and went back to the front of the house, where he mounted Brown Jerry, without a word to the servant holding him-an occurrence in itself remarkable-and was slowly riding away, when he heard his name eagerly called by Mabel Lees s voice. "Mr. Blake, Mr. Blake! one moment, if you please." He wheeled round at once, and she came lightly bounding over the lawn toward him, her pretty fringed scarf floating in the breeze, and in her hand the basket of stra~- berries she had brought to Mr. Seyton. "I am sorry to stop you for such a little thing," she said, as she reached his side, and paused, slightly out of breath. "I am afraid you will think me very foolish, but you did not taste my strawberries, and they're the very first of the season. You must take a few, if only to please me." He knew what she meant-that she had forgotten to offer them before, and feared he would think her too careless of' him, and too careful of her' rare fruit-so he made none of the demur in which a coarser' iift- ture might have indulged.' He stooped dewn, and took two or three fragrafit'elu~- ters out of the basket she held up to him. "This is more than enough, Mi~s'MabeI," he said, smiling into her soft, ea~'r!iest eyes. "I only care for them when they 6a~e of your growing, and great credit they do 'you, too. Thank y3u, very kindly. ~food-even- , ,, ing, ma am. "Good-evening,' Mr. l~lake," she ~gLid, and drew aside to let him pass. When he had ridden half-way dowit the lawn, he turned in his saddle tolook b~ek after hers The sun was jrist setting, and 14s last level rays gilded' the slender, girIl~h figure, as she walked slowly along the tEr- race, still swinging 'the little basket' iii her hand. "An angel, if ever there was one," he a 5 page: 14-15[View Page 14-15] 14 MABEL LEE. MABEL GIVES ADVICE. 15 muttered to himself. "God bless her! God bless her!" Are such benedictions ever unheard? But then-God's modes of blessing are not like ours. We would do well always to bear that in mind. CHAPTER III. MABEL GIVES ADVICE. "Now, godpapa," said Mabel, coming back to the window where Mr. Seyton still sat, "I will tell you what I want you to do." "You have only to speak and be obeyed, my violet-eyed darling." She knew that very well, but the knowl- edge that would have rendered many women exigent and unreasonable, only made her so exquisitely careful and moderate in all her requests, that Mr. Sexton was often very hard put to discover opportunities for the lavish indulgence he would have de- lighted to shower on her. She only smiled now, and lifted up her hand, with a pretty air of command. "Well, then, it is our sovereign will and pleasure that you order the boat to be made ready, and take me home by water. A row will do you good this lovely after- noon. You are not looking well, godpapa." "Am I not, sweetheart? We'll try your prescription, but not just now. You must spend the evening with me." Mabel shook her head. "I wish I could; but I promised mam- ma to be back in time for tea." "She Will not mind your staying.~~ "Perhaps not. But I promised." That logic was evidently unanswerable. $o, Mr. Seyton smiled, and gave up the point. "Ring the bell, then," he said, "and give your orders." The bell was rung, and the orders given, ~ in afew moments the boat was reported ready. "Take your master's cloak down," said Mabel.-.-" And now get that likeness, godpapa, that Mr. Blake spoke of. We must take it along," "What for, Mab?" "What for? Why, because you want to ask my advice, you know, and, after you have asked my advice, I want to see it." To hear and to obey were indeed synon- ymous things with Mr. Seyton where his goddaughter was concerned. He rose at once, and crossed the floor to a little Floren- tine cabinet, very quaint, very beautiful, and chief among his i.,irtuoso treasures. "I don't know what induced me to put the thing here," he said, when Mabel fol- lowed, and looked over his shoulder, "for I only keep valuables in this. But here it is." In an aromatic drawer of fragrant san- dal-wood, side by side with old coins, ,rare Italian cameos, half-effaced medals, and the countless other trifles, so priceless in the collector's eyes, so valueless in those of any one else, lay an oblong velvet case, which Mr. Sexton meditatively took up and looked at. "I wonder what induced me to put it here?" he repeated, as if the question puz- zled him. "I am sure I don't value Philip Conway's likeness in the least; and unless -yes, that must be it, Mabel." "What must be it, godpapa?" "It is so exquisitely painted," said Mr. Seyton, with a deprecating glance at. the velvet case. "It is so exquisitely painted! That must have been the cause. I have never before seen such softness and power of touch combined on ivory. I wish I knew the artist, Mab; he should paint your face, my darling." "Should he? Well, I'm glad you don't know him, then. Bnt, pray, don't stand there, talking about the picture in that way, godpapa, or my curiosity will mount so high that I ahall certainly look at it, and I d~$?~'t want to afford Mr. Blake that triumph." "I shall put that out of the question," said Mr. Sexton, and he dropped the case into one of his coat-pockets. "Now let us be off, if I have to take you home before tea." "But the cabinet! You are leaving it unlocked." Mr. Sexton turned back with a start, and closed, the inlaid doors upon his beloved treasures. "Do you believe in omens, ~Xab?" he asked, as he did so. "Well, yes," said Mabel, candidly. I think I do; although Father Lawrence says I must not." "If I did," said Mr. Seyton, slowly, as he fitted the sides into one another, "I should certainly think that Philip Conway was destined to be the master of Seyton House; for of one thing I am sure-" and he turned the key in its lock with a sharp snap "Cyril Harding's face would never have gained admission to my Florentine cabinet." "Who is Cyril Harding, gadpapa I" "I will tell you after a while, lady-bird. At present we must go down to the boat." They crossed the room together - a subtle likeness in their delicate, high-bred beauty making them almost look like father and daughter-and came out upon the ter- race. The sun had set, but the broken masses of 'gorgeously-tinted clouds, which he had left to mark "the bright track of his fiery were so faithfully reflected in the clear waters of the river, the air was so heavy with fragrance, and the tender purple mist of the spring-time hung so softly over the distant uplands, that his absence left noth- ing to be regretted. Yet Mabel looked around a little apprehensively, as they turned into the path which led across the lawn down to the water's edge. "Two miles," she said. "I am afraid, godpapa, you will be very late getting back." "And, please your majesty, suppose I don't mean to come back?" "You mean to spend the evening wit~i us? How delightful! What a charming game of piquet you and mamma can have!" "And how finely you can sing to us!" "I think it is so strange you like music when you are playing cards, "'she said, medi- tatively. "Now Cousin Francis always says it disturbs him." "Cousin Francis is-" "A lawyer. I don't think we need say any thing more, when we want to 'express stupidity on every subject not connected with that profound and soul - depressing science. Godpapa, I am so glad ~,ou are not a lawyer." "I am not sorry myself; Mab." "I suppose they are good. for some things," pursued Mabel, with a little peni- tent sigh; "but being agreeable is certainly not one of them. Godpapa, what is Mr. Philip Conway?" Mr. Sexton laughed slightly, and shrugged his shoulders in the graceful, indolent fashion he had learned in Paris years before. "That is more than I can tell you, bon- nibelle. But I rather fancy he belongs to the wide ranks of social condottieri." Bonnibelle looked a little puzzled; but before she could ask any questions, they came to the boat. It was a graceful and well - fashioned little craft, built according to Mr. Seyton's own directions, and easily propelled by one oar, although two rowers were now lying back in their seats, waiting their master's arrival. Stalwart young boatmen they were, whose smooth black skins contrasted effec- tively with their white trousers and striped' shirts, the "two best" of a twelve-oar boat, which was used on state occasions. "Where are the cushions, Austin?" asked the master, as he came forward. And both the boatmen sprang to their feet. "Are you sure the bottom is quite dry?" "Here's the cushions, sir," said Austin, bringing them from the bank; "and yes, sir, the bottom's as dry aW'6an be.-A little closer, Nate-All right now, Miss Mabel." Mabel stepped in, followed by her god- father, and the next moment they were gliding off with that quick, steady, easy movelnent which only first-class oarsmen can attain-the swift, sure stroke cleaving the water right and left, and leaving show- ers of rainbow-spray in their wake. "How delightful!" said Mabel, taking off her hat, and letting the fresh river-breeze toss her fair hair according to its own ca- price. "What a pleasure it is to be rowed by Austin and Nat! Godpapa, you ought really to present them both with a medal, in testimony of their skill." "You may, if you want to, Mab," said ~Ir. Sexton, with a smile. "I suspect they would value it more from you than from ru7e. -Wouldn't you, boys?" At which the boys touched their hatA, page: 16-17[View Page 16-17] 16 MA3EL LEE. MABEL GIVES ADVICE. 17 end an~w6red that "an'y thing from Miss Mabel was ~'always. acceptable." Then Mr. Seyton said the medals should be struck off with a water-nymph 'on one side, and a pair of oars crossed on the other. Whereupon Mabel laughed gayly, Austin and Nat seemed very much gratified, and the subject was changed. "Now," said Mr. Seyton, as they reached the~lower point of the island, and were glid- ing along past its beautifully-fringed shore, "now, Mabel, let me remind you that I mean' to ask your advice on a very impor- tant subject." "I'm all attention, godpapa." "Tie on your hat, then. You will take cold." Mabel knew there was no danger of that, but she tied it on nevertheless, and, after the' blue ribbons were made fast under her ohm, looked up with a smile that meant, "'Go ~n~" "'In one word, then," said Mr. Seyton, gravely, "I am going to make my will." Mabel started. There lar sQmething very suggestive in that one simple word, and all th~ blood which had been flushing her choekS rushed away at once to her heart. "Godpapa!" she said, with something like a' gasp. But he only smiled tenderly at her. "There is no cause to look so startled~ m~ bonny flower," he answered. "No man dies an hour sooner for making sti~aight his worldly affairss, and leaving his last com- muands in black and white. I should indeed have fulfilled this duty long ago, but for one thing. Can you guess what that has been?" She shook her head. "If I were a free man, Mabel-free, that is, tis other men arO, to leave my property to whom 'I choose, without' any' obligation of honor binding it and me- do you not know to whom that old house up yonder would go?" Again Mabel shook her head. It was evi- dent that she did not conceive his meaning. "Ab, my darling," said the fine gentle- ~a*i, with a rush of emotion in his VQice, "I would make you the richest 'heiress in all the country-side; I would dower you like a princess; I would set you up as mis- tress of all this fair, wide heritage-if only I dared! 0 Mabel! you can never know what a struggle it has been to me to take it away from my heart's delight-from the only thing on earth I love, and give it to stran- gers." Mabel's soft hand stole into his without a word, until she said, simply, "But, godpa- pa, I don't want it, and I am not a Seyton." "No," he said, with a deep sigh, "you are not a Seyton." Theu there was a pause of several min- utes, 'only broken by the splash of the water, the dip of the oars, and the low hum of in- sect-life from the island, whose drooping willows almost touched them as they passed. At last Mr. Seyton spoke again, quite abruptly: "It seems as if it would be easier to bear if I had only possessed no option in the mat- ter; if I had not belonged to the unlucky thirds in our order of succession-for you know the obligation of honor which is bind- ing upon us, do you not, Mahel?" "Yes," Mabel said, she knew it, ~as who, indeed, did not know that singular tradition and custom? "You know how the matter stands then. I have either to renew the entail, or to be the first of my name who has broken the trust of the dead. Another sort of dishonor I might have faced for you, Mabel, but not that. I could not resolve to meet the men; who went before me, with the brand of such a betrayal upon me! I could not even imagine that an inheritance so left would bring other than harm to you." She pressed closer to him, and laid her tinted cheek down on his shoulder. "Godpapa, I am sure of it." "Yes, so am I. And you will not re- member hereafter how much itwas in my power to have given you, and how little I did give? You will not think hardly of it, or doubt the love of the old n~an who would pour out his heart's bloed for you?" "Oh, hush! hush! You kill me when you talk so." And indeed a perfect April shower was raining from the violet eyes down upon the velvet morning-coat. "Then I will not say another word; but you must stop crying. You know we can none of us bear to see that. We feel as if we had not been half tender enough with our flower. Mabel, do you not know how you are paining me?" The tone was enough to dry Mabel's tears at once, but she twined her arms round him before she spoke again, and then it was only to say, in a half-choked voice: "Nothing more like that, godpapa- nothing more like that." "Not another word. Only a discussion of the claims of Philip Conway now. Shall I show you his likeness to cheer you into interest?" "I believe not. Mr. Blake would never trust my opinion then." "You know who he is?" "Your nephew, is he not? I have heard mamma speak of your sister who married a Captain Conway." "Yes, my nephew. This same sister's son. Poor Adela! She has had a hard life. I hope he makes amends for some of it." After a moment's silence, he contin- ued: "Now, Mabel, you must understand that Conway was not an honorable man; he was, in fact, an unprincipled adventurer, and that there is natural reason to fear that his son may be like him. Blake thinks there is every reason to fear it, and warns me solemnly that nothing but evil ever came of the Conway blood. Blake is aux- ions that, in entailing the Seyton estate, I should entail it, not upon Philip Conway and his heir, but upon Cyril Harding and his heir.~~ Mabel was becoming interested. She raised her head, and repeated the question she had asked once before: "Who is Cyril Harding?" "Cyril Harding," answered Mr. Seyton, concisely, "is the son of my younger sister, who married a clergyman of that name. I have told you that Philip Conway was an unprincipled adventurer; I must also add he was the most fascinating man of his day, and, in telling you that the reverend Mr. Harding was the embodiment of strict re- ligious principle, it is only fair to add that 2 he was likewise the embodiment of dulness and bigotry. Whether his son is like him or not, I cannot say; but the presumptive evidence that he may be so is at least as strong as in the case of Philip Conway. Now, the point at issue between Blake and. myself is simply this, which of these two shall I choose for an heir?" Mabel shrank slightly at the last word. She did not answer for a minute or two. When at last she did speak, it was quite slowly: "It scarcely seems to me, godpapa, as if mere presumptive evidence ought to weigh against anybody; or if it is just to judge the son b~ the father. If-if this were put aside, which of your nephews would you be inclined to choose?" "There is not a doubt on that subject," said Mr. Seyton, with a slight grimace. " Even as it is, Mab, my preference is all on, the Conway side. Adela has always been my favorite sister, and, despite his being such a scamp, I liked her husband heartily. Besides, she is the elder. As a matter of tastd-but then, you see, that is the rub! In a decision of this kind, I have no right to consult my individual taste. I have to. 'think of the generations to come, of the name, and of these "-he pointed to Austin and Nat-" in choosing my successor." "Yes," said Mabel, and her eyes ranged thoughtfully over the broad Seyton lands which lay on either side of them-"yes, I understand. But, then, godpapa, how can you possibly decide rightly without knowing any thing of either of them?" "That is the very difficulty I propose to obviate," said Mr. Seyton. "I promised poor, faithful Blake to send for both of them, and judge dispassionately between. them. But, after all, that is pretty ranoli. of an empty form, you know, Mab. They' will both be on their good behavior, and,. unless some accident reveals the different characters, I shall no~ be likely to gain much knowledge that can benefit me." Mabel shook her head very sagely. "I think most people show something,, at least, of their characters very soon, god- papa; and then I can't help wondering which one needs the inheritance most." page: 18-19[View Page 18-19] 18 MABEL LEE. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. 19 "There is no doubt of' that, either," Mr. Seyton answered. "The Hardings are very substantially well off while the Conways- ah, my poor Adela! That is another diffi- culty, Mab. If I clo send for her son, how on earth can I ever disappoint her-life has been such hard lines to her 1-by sending him away empty-handed I" Mabel looked up with all her heart in her eyes. Those few words-" life has been such hard lines to her "-told a very pitiful story that her fancy filled in at once. "Godpapa," she said, abruptly, "if I were you, I would not mind Mr. Blake. I would do what is right. I would make Mr. Conway the heir. Every thing you have men- tioned is for, instead of against, him, unless the character of his father. We know that many good men have had bad fathers, and- and if I were you, I would do what is right." "But his father's character is a great deal against him, Mab. The most fair- minded person in the world would, admit that. You don't know, you can't even im- agine, what a man he was. I tell you, if the son skoud be like him, it would be' my solemn duty to do a temporary evil, that la~ting good might come of it." "' Godpapa, L don't believe that good ever did come out of evil, or ever will." "In short, you. are transformed, after the manner of your sex, into a thorough-go- ing partisan." "'Yes," she said, nodding ga~yly~ "I am all for the Conway interest. You asked my advice, you know, so I have a 'right to give it, and it is this-take Philip Conway)' Ifr~ godfather. did not answer. He only smile& a. little, and then sat stroking her hair, ~vhile his eyes were absently fastened on the water. Indeed, he remained thus so long that Mabel at last grow impatient. "Am I 'discharged from the office of counsellor, godpapa?" she asked. He started~slightly, .nnd looked round. "Is it the likeness you want I" "Your intuition d~oes you credit, sir. It is the likeness." He took it'o~t, and handed it to her. She had not even instinct enough con- cerning the future 'to make her hesitate for one moment before opening it. Thanking him with a smile, she pressed the spring, and Philip Conway's face looked up at her. Mr. Blake had kept to the letter of the truth regarding it; for a face half so hand- some she had never seen before. It was very finely outlined, with a clear, dark com- plexion, and possessed more than one mark of the Seyton lineage, although the spirit nnd force which stamped it was something quite different from the fair, languid. Seyton type. Yet, even in this pictured semblance, it was easy to see that the chief attraction of the face did not rest either in grace of feature or harmony of coloring. The large, dark eyes were very perfect in size and color, but their fascination was quite apart from the one or the other, and might rather have been found in their wonderful power of expressing the two extremes of anger or tenderness. The gaze lingered on the well- cut month, less because no classic model was ever more faultless, than because there was something in the curve of the lips-de- fiantly compressed as they were-which proved how winning their senile could be when it came. The nose was straight-al- most severely regular; the eyebrows hori- zontal and slightly knit; while a crest of black curls gave finish to the forehead, that was else somewhat lacking in loftiness and amplitude. Altogether it was a singularly attractive face-a face without any tokens of degrading vice or sensual appetites, but ~a face on which indomitable pride and in- * domitable resolution were plainly stamped -the face of a man evidently accustomed to make his own will the arbiter of his own fate, and still more evidently accustomed to. ride rough-shod over any obstacles placed in his way. But Mabel saw little of this and heeded less. When at last she looked up from those magical eyes, there was something in the scene and the hour which she never for- got to her dying day. The broad river, the deep shadows, the gathering twilight over the distant hills, the last faint, broken cloud-reflections in the water, the fringed banks, and the swift cur- rent, hastening on-on-on-still on, bear- ing its freight of living water down to the vast depths of ocean, and also bearing- though she knew it not-all quiet and peace and happiness out of her life, never, fur many a long day, to revisit it again. -4-- CHAPTER IV. AN UNEXPECTED MEETiNG. "CAN you tell me, sir, which of these roads leads to Seyton House?" Mr. Blake wheeled Brown Jerry about like lightning, and faced the man who had asked this most unexpected question. A slender, elegant horseman, dressed in a dark-gray travelling-suit, riding a well- built 'chestnut, and bearing about him that nameless air of refinement and style which is only given by much association with the world-a man whose singularly handsome face was his least title to distinction; who might have been any age between twenty- one and thirty-five; who looked as much at ease there on the sultry cross-roads as if he had risen from a drawing-room sofa, and who smile a slight smile of amusement, as he repeated his inquiry, slightly altered: "Excuse me, but I have really forgotten some directibns that were given me this morning, and I would be glad to know by which of these roads I am most likely to reach Seyton House." Neither in question nor manner was there any thing save gentlemanly courtesy; and, considering this, there was some ground for his evident surprise at the grim stare which was, for the time, his only answer. Then Mr. Blake nerved himself, and jerked forth a reply: "Either road, sir, pill lead you to Sey- ton House. If you want the shortest, take the left; if you want the best, take the right." The stranger looked at both, smiled slightly again, and then turned his horse's head. "I have but one principle in all my jour- neys," he said, quietly-" the principle that i speed must always be subordinate to corn- 1 fort. Thanking you for your information, f sir, I take the right." d With an inward growl, Mr. Blake drew t aside to let him pass, scarcely deigning to return his salute, and then stood quite still looking after him. "Philip Conway's own face! Philip Conway's own figure! Philip Conway's own devilishly beguiling tongue," he mut- tered to himself. "God forgive me, but how I wouUl like to throttle him before he ever reaches Seyton House!" "A surly old boor," thought the stran- ger, who was riding away. ' "I wonder if he may be regarded as a specimen of the aboriginal inhabitants of this interesting [region? He seemed decidedly struck by my appearance-not favorably, however. I really cannot flatter myself that 'it was favorable. What the deuce could have been the matter? Have I lost my nose, or has any calamity befallen my hat?" He investigated his nose, and, finding it in its usual condition, removed his hat. He was still examining this with' quite a contemplative curiosity, wherf there came a clatter of horses' hoofs in the rear, and, be- fore he could turn in his saddle, Brown Jerry was reined up beside him. "Sir," said Mr. Blake, with a great gulp in his voice, "I beg your pardon for my inci- vility a moment ago. I ought to be 'glad tt do a service for any guest of Seyton House, and so, if you don't object, I'll see you on your road." "Object!" said the~ gentleman, with ~ smile. "Indeed, no. I have lost my road often enough to-day, to be glad of such an offer. But, unless your way lies in that di. rection-" "My way 'lies in any direction that'my ~luty does, Mr. Conway." The stranger turned round, and gave a iuick glance of astonishment.' "So you know me ?" he said. "Sorra a doubt of that "-.with a quiver )f ill-concealed bitterness in his voice- 'sorra a doubt of that, when I know your 'ather before you." Philip CQnway-for it was he-..-looked ~t the speaker for a moment in' silence. ~hen the mist' of'doubt cleared from his ace, a flash of recognition came into the Lark eyes, and, drawing off his glove, ho ex~ ended his hand. page: 20-21[View Page 20-21] AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. 21 20 MABEL LEE. "There is but one man to whom I can be speaking," he sa4d, "that is my mother's old friend, Patrick Blake." Such a recognition from any one else would not have failed to win the warm Irish heart thus addressed; but if Philip Conway had worn the forni and smiled the smile of the star of the morning, h~ could not have done more than momentarily dispel Mr. Blake's deeply-rooted distrust. That un- compromising person did not refuse the hand that was offered him-the hand that was delicate and well-shaped as Mr. Sey- ton's own, though supple with nervous ener- gy and muscular strength-but he dropped it almost immediately, before he enclosed his lip~ to answer, stiffly: "Yes, sir, I'm Patrick Blake; Miss Adela's old friend and servant, if Miss Adela is good enough to remember me. I hope yen left her well?" "Quite well," Mr. Conway answered; a little coldly, perhaps, for a duller man than himself might have felt the chill of the other's manner. "That is, she was well when I heard from her last; but I have not seen her for some time. She is abroad." "Abroad! Do you mean in the old country, em?" "Yes, in one of the old countries. She is in Paris, where we have both been living for several years." "And you left her there alone?" Mr. Conway laughed slightly. "My mother is quite capable of taking care of herself," he said. "Besides, I left her at her own request. My uncle sent for me, as I suppose you are aware. By-the-by, I hope he is well?" "Very well," answered Mr. Blake briefly. And then the conversation dropped They rode on in complete silence fo some time, until Mr. Conway spoke again rather weariedly: "This road has seemed to stretch on interminably all day. How far are we nou from Seyton House?" "Two good miles, sh~; hut you woub have cut off one, if you had taken the othe: road." The young man shrugged his shoulders It was a shrug more satiric and less indo- lent thanMr. Seyton's. "Better bear the ills we know, than fly to those we know not of.-Eh, Mazeppa? Cheer up, though, old fellow! We have nearly reached your quarters of rest and re- freshment." He patted the horse's satin neck with his hand, and then turned abrupt- ly to Mr. Blake. "I wonder if animals are half grateful enough for being spared all the trouble of talking and being talked to I" he said.~ "I don't know, I'm sure, sir," was the matter-of-fact answer; "but I sometimes think they do understand one another." "Yes, so do I, but ~wIpe we are mistaken. I hope sincerely, for Mazeppa's sake, that he will not be forced to exchange any greet- ings or answer any inquiries, before he be- takes himself to his fodder and dreams to- night." Mr. Blake gave Brown Jerry's bit a jerk, which threw his astonished head at least half a yard into the air. "If you are very tired, sir, I have no doubt Mr. Seyton will excuse you from any greetings or inquiries," he said, emphatically. The dark eyes looked at him with some- thing of a mocking gleam, and there was a slightly-mocking cadence in the tone, that answered pleasantly: "I would not do Mr. Seyton's courtesy so much injustice as to doubt it, but I do not know that I have made any plea of fa- tigue." Despite the cadence mentioned, the tone made Mr. Blake feel rather ashamed of himself, and his quickness to take offence. So he answered, apologetically: "I beg your pardon, then, sir; but I only took that for granted. Anybody would, I think, have done the same." ~ There you are mistaken, mom am~, said his companion, good-humoredly, but with the same mocking light in his eye that L to Mr. Blake recalled his father so forcibly. "A wise man never takes any thing for granted. When I spoke of Mazeppa just I now, I was not thinking of myself in the r least. I am too much of a traveller to feel worsted by thirty miles in the saddle2' "Thirty miles since daylight, sir?" "No-I am not a barbarian. Thirty miles since nine o'clock." Mr. Blake looked at the sun, it was at least two hours high, and then at Mazeppa's flanks. "In that case, sir, your horse is even a better traveller than yourself, for thirty miles over our roads are equivalent to sixty elsewhere." Mr. Conway smiled; "if Mazeppa had the power of speech we were speaking cf he would tell you that he feels equal to thirty miles farther to-night. And I tell you that his speed and endurance are not to be matched out of Arabia." "He is finely blooded, I perceive." "He is a cross of the best blood in Eng- land. Sired by the famous-. However, I spare you his pedigree, and an enumera- tion of the many cups his ancestors have won. You are probably not interested in the turf?" "Not in the least," replied Mr. Blake, dryly. Then there fell another pause. It was a lovely afternoon, even for May. The, for- ~sts were beautiful with magnolia, honey- suckle, and jasmine, that were scenting the air with their fragrance, and the bright- green foliage was in full luxuriance, but neither of the two men took any notice of these things. Mr. Blake was too well ac- customed to them, and Mr. Conway seemed as thoroughly indifferent as if he had been riding over the sterile sands of Sahara. So for a time there was a decided dearth of conversational topics. This time it was Mr. Blake who first broke the silence. "I suppose you have heard nothing of Mr. Cyril Harding on the road, sir?" he asked. "Mr. Seyton is expecting him every day." If he meant to convey a piece of infor- mation, he must have been disappointed, for Mr. Conway did not look in the least sur- prised. He had evidently heard that his cousin was expected at Seyton House, and quite as evidently treated the fact with an indifference profound as that with which he regarded the magnolias and honeysuckle. "I have heard nothing of him," he an- swered, carelessly; "but it is scarcely like- ly that I should have done so. There is a mail line running to Ayre, is there not? On what day does the coach come in?" "It is tn-weekly, and comes in on Tuea. days, Thursdays, and Saturdays.~~ "To-day is Thursday, is it not? There is every probability, then, that my uncle will be gratified by the arrival of Mr. Cyril Harding." Mr. Blake started slightly, and looked a ,little curiously at his companion. "You do know something of his move- ments, then?" "Not in the least," was the cool re- ply. "But I know something of him; and I am sure that he will not, of his own good will, allow me ~o precede him by even so much as an hour in my arrival at Seyton House." "As you were both coming to the same place, at the same time, and from the same direction, I wonder you did not come to- gether," said Mr. Blake, bluntly. Mr. Conway laughed-not a pleasant laugh-and shrugged his shoulders even more sarcastically than before. "My cousin Cyril has never forgotten one or two episodes of our boyhood," he replied. "Indeed, his memory is so good, and his opinion of my desperado proclivities so strong, that I doubt if he would bear me company on a lonely road, to be made mas- ter of Seyton house at the ~nd of it. Put- ting my society out of the question, how.~ ever, I think he would, under any circum- stances, prefer a seat in a coach to a seat in the saddle. It is at once more comfortable and more safe, for we can scarcely consider it discreditable to such an eminent Christian that he is not above the weakness of fear." Again the light, mocking tone jarred on Mr. Blake's ear, more than it is possible for words to express -jarred, in recalling~ a voice that had never owned aught save a gibe for any thing in heaven or on earth~ and for the first time in all his life he had laid lance in rest for the cause of fear. "He is a very foolish man, sir, who runs risks with his life for mere boasting and bravado. I am glad te hear that Mr. Hard- ing is wise enough to avoid this, and yet brave enough to face ridicule for con- science' sake." I page: 22-23[View Page 22-23] 22 MABEL LEE. FIEBE iN A RIBBON-SHOP. 23 Mr. Conway looked at him steadily, with a world of covert amusement in his dark eyes. "My good friend," he said, "will you be kind enough to explain what you mean by 'facing ridicule for conscience' sake?'" But there was no flinching in the man whom he regarded, the man who answered with a certain sturdy dignity of his own. "~ mean, sir, that his Christianity does him far more credit than your sneer at it does you." The honest fellow never got over a certain half liking for Philip Conway after that hour, after he saw how cordial a smile came over his face, and how cordial a tone into his voice, notwithstanding this rebuke. "I see," he said, "that my cousin Cyril has already gained a friend whom I envy him, but whose partisanship I scarcely think he deserves. You will have to judge of that, however. Only one thing allow me to say in self-defence, my sneer was not in- tended for Christianity proper-the Christi- anity which no. man honors more than I do -but for Harding Christianity. When you know my cousin, you will understand the distinction." Mr. Blake was on the point of under- standing it before that time, or at least of asking one or two questions relative to it, when a very unexpected interruption oc- curred. A sharp turn in the road brought them face to face with a horseman, who was an entire stranger to himself but who started visibly on seeing his companion, and at once rode forward, exclaiming eagerly: "Conway! Phil! My dear fellow, is it possible?" "What, Ainslie!" said the other, in a tone of overwhelming surprise. And the next moment they were shaking hands warmly. "I thought you were in Cairo, with the desert on one hand and the plague on the other," said one. "I thought. you were in Paris, enjoying Les Trois Fr~res, and the charms of baa- carat," said the other. Conway laughed gayly. "It is like a scene in a play, my dear fellow. We thought each other at the an- tipodes, and we suddenly encounter each other on a lonely road of the backwoods. Are you hound for Charleston?" "For nowhere else. Just as I was leav- ing for the East-leaving Marseilles, that is -a letter reached mc which left me no alternative but that of return. One of these troublesome people, who make it a principle to do every thing at the most inconvenient time imaginable, had suddenly died, and left me without any reliable business agent. It was come back, or be robbed to an unlimited extent. I. came back." "That's your sober English caution, Ainslie." "It's not your headlong Irish impatience, I .know. Come, turn back. with me.. Let us spend the night in Ayre, and go on to- gether to-morrow. I take it for granted you are drifting about as much at large as ever." "No, by Jove! I not only have a special object in view just now, but I'm nailed down to an appointment. You have heard me . speak of my uncle, Mr. Seyton; well, I must be at his house to-night." A glance of quick intelligence passed between them-a glance which Mr. Blake did not fail to note, and score down to Philip Conway's discredit; . and then Mr. Ainslie said: "Your uncle I Pray accept my con- gratulations. Then this gentleman is not-" and he turned to Mr. Blake. "He is my uncle's business agent," said Conway quickly, and somewhat warningly. "Mr. Blake, let me introduce my friend Mr. Ainslie." Mr. Blake touched his hat, not very graciously; and while Mr. Ainslie said a few commonplace words of greeting, he occupied himself in observing the personal appearance of this new candidate for favor or distrust. This was all that he saw: A figure strik- ingly like Philip Conway's both in build and carriage, save that what was graceful slender- ness in one, took the appearance of spareness in the other; and a sunburnt face that was only redeemedfrom positive ugliness byapair of singularly brilliant hazel eyes, with some- thing so exquisite and remarkable in them, that nobody could possibly have denied their beauty, and few people resisted their fascination. This one point was all the claim Mr. Ainslie could 'advance toward good looks; but a certain ease and grace of manner seconded it so well, that, even on first sight, he was an unusually attractive person-even on first sight people began to think him charming-and rarely changed their minds on closer acquaintance. For, just as there was something in Philip Con- way's dark, handsome face which inspired distrust, and made worldly-wise men and ~vomen look askance at him, so in this face, which barely escaped ugliness, there was something that caused the most worldly wise to give confidence and bestow trust almost involuntarily. Even Mr. Blake felt the subtle influence which so many had felt before him-even he, looking at this man, could not but believe in him, and even he began to think better of Philip Conway for possessing such a friend. This feeling rather increased than subsided with every succeeding minute, and when he heard Mr. Ainslie say that he might possibly spend some days in Ayre, as his horse needed recruiting, and his mind needed companionship, he was conscious of something which was, curiously enough, almost a sense of relief. "Then I will see you early in the morn- ing," Philip Con way said, and with this understanding they parted. Mr. Ainslie pro- ceeded forward to the town, and, as the two others rode along in the opposite direction, Mr. Conway told his companion something of the man frotn whom they had just parted. He was immensely wealthy, he said, the sole inheritor of two equally colossal, for- tunes, one of which had been left by his father, and the other by a maternal uncle; but, instead of making this wealth the key to social influence or political power, or philanthropy or pleasure, or any other of the common toys of men, he had done little more than spend his time in wild, fantastic wanderings, and in dabbling after the man- ner of a dilettante in art and science. "He has been farther into Africa than ever a white man penetrated before," said Mr. Conway, warming over the mention of his friend's achievements. "He has ex- plored, and made miraculous escapes in the interior of India; he has ridden on horse- back from the Bosporus to the Arctic Ocean; he' has ascended the Nile, and crossed the Libyan Desert; he has lived in the midst of the plague in Smyrna and Damascus; and he is as well known in the Arab tents as in the cafes of the Palais Royal; he has sounded more seas, and climbed more mountains, than any other man of his generation ; he is equally at home With the pearl-divers of Ceylon and the fishermen of the Hebrides; he has won an honorable name among men of letters~ and science; he is welcomed like a brother in the studios of Rome and Paris; and he has painted pictures that prove he might, if he chose, be among the first ~f liv- ing artists. In short, he has done every thing but__" "But what?" asked Mr. Blake, whose interest was on the increase. "But win social position in his native city." "What! that man not a gentleman?" "Yes, the best of gentlemen. But his father left some blot on the name-I don't know exactly what, for such matters seem to me of little importance-only it Was dark enough to close the doors of good society for- ever against his son. I don't think Ainslie minds it much; but, if he did, it would be all the same. lIe may climb the Himalayas, an4 penetrate the wilds .of Central Africa, but he can never hope to enter a Charleston drawing-room." Before Mr. Blake could reply, the sound of flowing water fell upon their ears, and in. another moment they were standing on the bank of the Ayre, with . the ferry-boat pulling rapidly toward them, and Seyton House showing clear and dark against the western sky. -4--- CHAPTER V. HE~3E IN A. RIBBON-SHOP. THERE has seldom been a more tired face, serene and sweet though it was, than that with which Constance Lee was walking page: 24-25[View Page 24-25] JIEBE IN A RIBIION-SHOP. * home out. the Monday after Mr. Conway's arrival at Seyton House. An exceedingly tired face-for the re- verses of the Lee family had made this girl a music-teacher, and she had been giving an unusual number of lessons that morning to unusually stupid pupils-and, judged by the rules of beauty, not a pretty face, yet a face that had its own charm, nevertheless-a f&~ce ~with clear, helpful intelligence in it, with woman's ordinary power of endurance, and more than woman's ordinary power of thought; with earnest, steadfast g~ay eyes, with an exquisite mouth, and with a very arch humor in it sometimes, though just now it looked so pale and patient-scarcely a face to admire; but scarcely, either, a faca to pity, for we rarely pity those who seem capable of bearing their own burden. Our compassion all goes to the weak shoul- ders that bend, and to the moaning lips so ever ready to complain; yet, perhaps, we might bestow it better if we waited for one of those soldiers of life who pass by with head erect and steady step, even, sometimes, with smiling lip, yet the cruel weight-if we dare call any thing of God's ordination cruel !-which is laid on then~ would thrice double that other, on which we gaze with swimming eyes. Ahi surely, if sometimes we entertain angels unawares, there are other times when we live face to face with heroes and know them not-heroes more brave than those that died at Marathon! more enduring than those who starved with- in~ the walls of Genoa !-for, as there are deaths deeper than the mere physical pang, so there are starvation worse than any of the body-heroes for whom earth has nev- er a song nor a wreath, who die soundless as they have lived, but whom it may be we shall find hereafter far above those whom life has covered with praise, and crowned with laurels. So, on this bright Monday morning, Con- stance Lee was walking along very quietly, the pretty village street all to herself, and her roll of music in her hand, looking rather absehtly before her, and wondering whether Nauoy had remembered to buy the barrel of flour which was needed, or whether she ought to go and see about it herself, when there came a quick tread along the side- walk behind her, a man's figure at her side, and a voice, rather harsh than otherwise, saying, abruptly: "How badly you look, Constance! What is the matter?" She started, and then turned, with a smile. "Nothing much, Francis, thank you. Some of the children were unusually troublesome this morning, that is all." "You are ~sure that is all? Nothing the matter at home?" "No, nothing whatever. I left mamma and Mabel both in high spirits. You know there is to be a dinner-party at Seyton House to-day, and they are enjoying it in anticipation." "Yes, I know. I have an invitation, and I was going to ask you about it. Who is to be there?" "Everybody, I believe," she answered, smiling. "Everybody, that is, whom Mr. Sexton considers de notre ekease. It is meant to introduce his nephew in due form to society, you know." Her companion nodded, and then com- pressed his lips in a way peculiar to him- self, as he walked along by her side; in a way, too, that made quite a young face seem quite an old one. It was a face too lined and sunken for symmetry at any time, but, taken thus, it was peculiarly far from hand- some. I~een and worn, almost haggard in- deed, from the plainly-marked effects of in- tellectual toil, it might yet have been refined by this very toil into a beauty which of themselves the rugged features lacked, if an habitually harsh and unpleasant expression had not marred the effect, and if the caustic mouth had. not more than counteracted the broad and somewhat benign brow. After seeing his face, you were not surprised at his voice; after hearing his voice, you were not surprised at his face. Seldom has Na- ture fitted two things into more exact ac- cordance-for, there was not a tone of melo- dy in the voice, and there was not an ele- ment of softness in the face. Taking both together, you felt that impressions graved on granite were less ineffaceable than this man's opinions and this man's resolves. "How are you all going out to Seytbn House?" he asked, suddenly. "I suppose the carriage will be sent for my aunt, but cannot I drive yourself or Mabel?" "Mr. Seyton promised to send the boat for us, and we are going by the river," Constance answered. "I think that wotild be pleasanter for you than driving ov'er these dusty roads. Come with us. li~o." "I should like it, but it depends upon who will come for you." She looked up a little surprised. "Who will come for us? Why, who should come besides the boatmen?" "Mr. Philip qonway, perhaps; consider- ing that he did nothing but stare at Mabel in church yesterday." "Mr. Philip Conway was not in church yesterday." "Mr. Cyril harding, then." "Nor he," said Constance, with a merry laugh. "He is said to be the strictest of Protestants, and would be horrified at the mere suspicion of attending mass." "And is the other one a Protestant too?" asked Mr. Nowdll, with something like an expression of relief. "No, I believe not. But he had a head- ache or something of the sort, Mr. Seyton said, and that kept him at home. The gen- tleman you saw was a friend of his, who is staying at the House, and with whom every- body-even Mr. Blake-is in love." "He is very ugly." "Ugly! how can you say so? I think he has a charming face, and the most beau- tiful eyes I ever saw." "He certainly gave everybody in your seat sufficient opportunity for observing them. Pray was Mabel as much impressed as yourself?" "Mabel is the only person who has taken an unaccountable dislike to him. She said so yesterday, and this morning she reported that she dreamed of snakes all night, and that the snakes, every one, bad his eyes." Mr. Newell laughed. "How fancy and imagination run away with her!" he said-but he did not say it half as sharply as usual. "Excitement; too," said Constance.- "See! yonder, she is at~ the gate, waiting for me now." There she was, indeed; a violet-eyed, golden-haired vision, leaning over the low gate toward which they were advancing, and looking like a Hebe of the spring, with a wilderness of tender foliage ~and.tinted blossom on either side, and drooping ten- drils of t~ie honeysuckle, which was trained in an areli over the gate, falling all around her. She opened the gate for them, as they came near, and gave her hand and a smile to Mr. Newell, while she looked reproachfully at her sister. "0 Constance! what a time you have been, and mamma so impatient. I really thought I should have to send Nancy for you. What made you leave her cap all in pieces, and the ribbon-nobody knows where?" Constance looked dismayed-as well she might. "Mamma's cap! I forgot it completely. I had it done up, you know, and I was sure I put the trimming back on it. However, there is not much to do, only-" "Only what?" "I must first go down the street for some ribbon, the other is too soiled to be put back; and I remember now ~hat was why I waited." She turned from the gate, hut Mabel 4 summarily laid hold of her. "Go down street, indeed! You look very much like it. Can't I see in your poor, pale face how tired you are? Besides, mamma will take hysterics in another five minutes, if you don't go to her. Give me your hat. I will get the ribbon." "But, Mabel, you will tire yourself~ and you know the dinner-party-" "Yes, I know all about the dinner-par- ty; and I know, too, that you seem to think nobody has a right to be tired but yourself. Cousin Francis, is 'this a free and indepen- dent country, and am I a free and indepen- dent citizen of it? If so, I summon you, in the name of liberty, to remove that hat and give it to me." "Many things quite as high-banded have been done in the name of liberty," said ~fr. Nowell, as he lifted Constance's hat from I-i 24 MABEL LEE 25 K page: 26-27[View Page 26-27] 26 MABEL LEE. HEBE IN A RIBBON-SHOP. her brown braids, and laid it on Mabel's glit- tering locks. "You can quote Madame Ro- land, if you feel inclined, Constance." "She had better go and put mamma's cap together," said Mabel, while she tied the strings under her chin. "Dear, what makes you trim your hats with such an ugly color? I am sure I look like a fright in it, don't I, Cousin Francis?" "Suppose I say yes, Mabel?" "Suppose you know your duty better, sir? What are cousins for, if they don't flat- ter one and keep one in good-humor?" "I consider their duty in life to be just the reverse." "I know you do," she said, "and that is just the reason I don't like you-some- times. You lecture too much." "Do I?" "A great deal too much," she answered, with a pretty little toss of the head. "I lUre you infinitely better when you are agreeable, and, as you seem to be in a toler- able good-humor now, I will let you go down-street with m~.-Constance, what sort of ribbon do you want?" "Two yards of lavender lutestring, inch width, if you wilt go, Mabel. But I am really afraid the sun will give you a head- ache." "Cousin Francis will tell you that it is time I should get used to headaches. lie says I am spoiled to death, and that, if I had any strength of mind, I would unspoil myself. I mean, for once, to prove that I possess the necessary strength of mind." Constance saw that further remonstrance was useless. She said to Mr. Nowell, "Take care of her," and then she went into the house to find the cap, and pacify her mother. Meanwhile, Mabel set off down-street, wearing the most simple of morning-dresses, her curls all dishevelled, perfectly innocent of gloves, veil, or parasol, and altogether a figure which greatly horrified the two Miss- es Crane-shopping in green silks and black- lace shawls-when she met them on the main street. They both stared; for Ayre was very fashionable, and it was not con- sidered the style to appear on Main Street in any except "dress" costume. But Ma- bel smiled as brightly as if her offence had been one of the most venial nature, and then, with a pleasant good-morning, flitted past them into a lace-and-ribbon shop. The two ladies looked at each other. "Did you ever see the like of that?" said one. "She has been s& spoiled, I am hardly surprised," answered the other. "People really seem to think her something more than mortal, while, for my part-I like her very much, of course, but I can see that she believes she can do exactly what she pleases." "And Francis Kowell, too!" said the first, a little resentfully. "I wonder he would have come down-street with her, and she such a figure!" "Everybody knows that Francis Now- dl is in love," returned the other, with a shrug; "and a man in love has about as much sense as this parasol. 'The king can do no wrong' in his eyes, you may be sure, Lavinia." "Men are very great fools," said Miss Lavinia, in an aggrieved tone, for, as it chanced, nobody had ever been tempted to folly on her account. "But still, Francis Nowell-he might know that a girl like Mabel-a girl who has been so much flat- tered and spoiled-would never marry a man like him." "She might do worse. He is very tal- ented." "But he is poor," said Miss Lavinia, in much the same tone that she might have said, but he is a gamester, or a felon, or any thing else utterly disreputable. "He is poor; and you. may be sure her family will never let Mabel marry anybody but a rich man. Indeed, Mrs. Phifer was telling me yesterday-" "Hush!" said her sister, in a warning whisper. "There is Mrs. Phifer in that shop." "Well, what of that? She did not tell it to me as a secret. It was only that-but here she comes.-Dear Mrs. Phifer, how glad I am to see you!" Dear Mrs. Phifer was a stout, elderly lady in black, with a very imposing pres- ence, a Roman nose, and an air half magis- trial ~nd half clerical, which went far to prove that, although a "minister's wife," she was very unlike the meek creature who generally fills that position, but considered herself second in importance and influence .to nobody in the parish. She met the two green silk divinities in the middle of the pavement, just as she stepped out of a tai- lor's shop, where she had been to order a pair of pantaloons-not for herself but for her husband. "Mind, Mr. Pierce, a little longer, and not nearly so tight as the last pair," she was saying to the tailor, who had followed her to the door. "Now, don't forget which piece of cassimere I chose. The other is very inferior, and- Ab, my dears, I am very glad to see you. How well you are both looking!" Of course, they both returned the com- pliment, as they walked on together; and then Miss Lavinia went back to the subject which had been under discussion by her sis- ter and herself, a few minutes before. "We were just speaking of you, dear Mrs. Phifer," she said, "and I was just be- ginning to repeat to Ellen what you told me after church yesterday, about Mabel Lee and her godfather. Don't you remem- ber?" "Mabel Lee!" said Mrs. ~Phifer with rather a puzzled look; and then her face suddenly cleared. "Oh, yes, about her god- father's plan of marrying her to oneof his nephews, was it not? That is .the report, undoubtedly; but we can hardly trust mere gossip, you know." "Of course not," said Miss Lavinia, ~ho was the originator of half the gossip of Ayre. "But I thought you quoted some authority for it." "Did I?" said Mrs. Phifer, looking puz- zled again, for, in the multiplicity of subjects which engrossed her attention, she was apt to become somewhat oblivious of unimpor- tant matters. "Perhaps I did, my dear, but I don't remember who it could have been. I heard that Mr. Seyton had sent for his two nephews, in order to choose an heir, and that he wbuld choose whichever one agreed to marry Mabel. That was all. You saw one of them in church yesterday-the stranger who occupied a seat in the right- hand pew, next the chancel." "Yes, I saw him," said Miss Lavinia, in a tone which left no doubt of the fact. "How handsome he is!" "Very handsome, and a most excellent young Christian," said Mrs. ]?hifer. "He called on Mr. Phifer after the sermon, and I was never more edified than by his con- versation. He assured us that, instead of de- siring the inheritance of Seyton House, he very much hoped his uncle would not leave it to him. His cousin needs it much more, he said, and, for himself, he desires to enter the ministry. 'My Master's service,' he added, 'is honor enough for me."' The young ladies gave a low murmur of admiration. "Yes, my dears, yes. But then, you see, it is to be hoped that he will obtain it, for this young Conway is of most dreadful char- acter. Mr. Harding could scarcely sPeak ~f him without a shudder, and, although he said very little, it was evident what he thought. For myself, I confess that I ~hud- der "-she suited the action to the word- "to think of the Seyton property passing into such h~inds." "But it has not passed into them yet," said the elder Miss Crane, "and Mr. Seyton-" "Mr. Seyton has not ali idea beyond Mabel Lee," interrupted Miss La.vinia. "People always prophesied that, instead of renewing the entail, he would leave the property to her. I have no doubt he would have done so, but for this bright idea of marrying her to tile heir. What a nice race there will be between Mr. Conway and Mr. Harding!" Said Mrs. Phifer, stiffly: "I doubt if Mr. Harding will make any effort to secure the inheritance which ou~'At to be his by right." "Oh, dear! trust him for that! "said Miss Crane, in an incredulous tone. "No matter if he ia a C~iristian, Christians want money as much as anybody else. And then, Mrs. Phifer, we all know that Mabel is so pretty that everybody falls in love with her. Mi'. Harding may do that." Mrs. Phifer smiled loftily, but before she page: 28-29[View Page 28-29] 28 MABEL LEE. IN TIlE GARDEN. 2!) could reply, in terms of sufficient force, Miss Lavinia gave her arm a nipping pinch, and exclaimed, in an intense whisper: "There he is now!" "There is who?" asked her sister, eagerly, while Mrs. Phifer was too indig- nant with her arm to take interest in any other matter. "There ~oho is, Lavinia?" "The gentleman who was in church yes- terday. Don't you recognize his figure?" * They all turned and looked quickly. A gentleman was leisurely sauntering down the street in front of them, and-yes-they all recognized the graceful figure and fault- less coat which they had admired the day before. True, the coat had changed from black to fawn color, tufd there was an air about the figure of the je no dais qUOi in style and elegance, which had been totally lacking before; but they could, one and all, swear to it as the very same they had seen occupying the right-hand pew next the chancel-when lo! the stranger turned his head, so that they caught a glimpse of his profile, and they saw at once that they had made a xnistake. "It is not he, after all," said Miss La- vinia, a little cre8tfallen. "But, oh, is he not handsome?" "Goodness! who can he be?" exclaimed her sister. Whoever he was, he turned abruptly into the very shop where Mabel Lee was buying two yards of lavender ribbon. This business had proved to be one of considerable duration, for Mr. Nowell elected himself referee in the matter, and so unhesi- tatingly condemned all 'the delicate tints which were poured out on the counter, that Mabel found herself at last decidedly waver- ing in her own judgment. "What will you have?" she cried, ap- pealingly, after every shade ~f purple, lilac, and lavender, had been alternately shown and successively vetoed. "If none of these suit, what do you advise?" "Bring some gray and stone ~ said Mr. :N~owell to the clerk. "That is what I advise, Mabel," he said, when the desired articles made their appearance, "Either of these wrn suit my aunt. But she is much too old to wear these frippery things." * "Too old! Mammal I don't know what you mean, sir. I only wish ~,'ou were half as young as she is. She would leek dreadfully in those horrid things." "How often must I tell you, Mabel, that looks are of no importance?" "Then if looks are of no importance, what must one consult when one buys rib- bons?" Propriety," answered Mr. Newell, briefiy-.-" propriety which says, at present, this." And he held the stoniest of the grays toward her. But Mabel drew back almost petulantly. "Propriety may say so, if it chooses, and you besides, Cousin Francis; but, for all thatTam not going to shock mamma by taking such a thing home. Delicate colors are becoming to her. She is like me." "Like you, is she? Then I should not be surprised to go back and find her arrayed in any enormity-even a red gown." "Did you ever see me in a red gown?" "I certainly never saw you in any thing like the sedate and proper colors Constance wears." "No, I hope not, considering that I don't want to make a fright of myself. But come, I must choose mamma's ribbon. Which shall it be - this lilac, or this mauve?" "They are equally unfit for the pur- pose." "And .equally pretty. Tell me which is the most becoming; that will decide the matter. See, now." She held a knot of the ribbon to each side of her sunny hair, and looked up at him with a smile that might have melted a man of bronze. Francis Newell was not quite a man of bronze-let him do his ut- most to harden himself; and he looked at her silently, looked so earnestly, so almost passionately, that, after a moment, the lashes sunk over the sweet violet eyes, and a tinge of additional color stole into the lovely face. It was at this moment that the stranger's glance fell on her, and he entered the shop at once-entered it almost like one under a spell. Mabel was fronting the door.-she had turned round from the counter to her cousin -and so, had only to raise her eyes, when the light was darkened by the entrance of the new-corner, She did not raise-them; and all that Francis Newell saw was a sud- den, vivid blush, which spread like lightning over the fair skin, until it reached even the roots of the golden hair. He turned sharply, and saw, for the first time, a face which he was destined to see often, to hate bitterly, to suspect cruelly, to like never. It may be that he was a jealous lover, or it may be only that he was a keen lawyer; but his first, instantaneous impres- sion of that face was one of distrust-an impression which may have been instinct, or only prejudice, but which after-events seemed to justify, and which he never con- quered or forgot. So, after one haughty stare-a st~re that was returned with in- terest-he brought his attention back to Mabel, and said, coldly: "Buy either of the things, Mabel, or both, if you choose, and let us go. I am sure Constance must wonder at your long absence." "Yes," answered Mabel, absently.- "Two yards, if you please," she said to the clerk. And oh! how terribly conscious she was of her muslin dress, her falling hair, and her gloveless hands. "Two yards of which piece, ma'am?" "Either-yes, that will do." So two yards were measured and cut off from the brightest shade of purple among them all. At last, too, it was paid for, and the change made, a matter which Mr. New- ell thought would never be accomplished, and, when they were once fairly out of the shop, he could no longer restrain his vexa- tion. "You ought not to come out without a veil, Mabel. I have told you so often. Women are never secure from impertinent staring. I should have liked amazingly to knock that fellow down. I wonder who he is? That man who caine into the shop just now, and stared at you so, I mean." Mabel did not' answer for a moment. She was twisting the little parcel of ribbon nervously round her fingers; but, after a while, she looked up at her cousin. "It was Mr. Philip Conway," she said, quietly. "1 knew him at once." CHAPTER VT. iN THE GARDEN. Two gentlemen were loitering on the terrace of Seyton House - one of them smoking, and the other leaning idly ov~er the balustrade-when the boat containing the Lee party came in sight. "Throw away your cigar, Phil," said he of the balustrade, with a laugh. "Your gal- lantry will be pu~ to the touch in a moment -for yonder comes your Hebe of the rib- bon-shop." "Then I hope her Cerberus is not in at- tendance still,"~said Mr. Conway, carelessly. "However, we shall not be disturbed. Th~ landing is down yonder, and they cross the lawn to the front of the house. You have deucedly good eyes, Ainslie. How can you possibly tell who is in that craft, at titis dis- tance?" "It was not my eyes, but my ears, that were good in this Case," answered Mr. Ainslie. "I heard whom the boat was to b~ sent for, and therefore did not'fird it hard to conjecture who was ia it. Yonder4s a~ blue parasol. Do divinities use blue parasols, Phil?" "They only wear limp dresses, and ~ex~ extraordinary hats, as far as my knowledge extends," answered Mr. Conway. "But you ought to know. It is said you devoted .~ your attention to the question, in the most candid manner, yesterday." "Who says so?" "All Ayre, I believe. I heard several people mention the fact this morning, so I thought you must have done somo staring out of the ordinary way." Mr. Ainslie shru~ged his shoulders. "Staring, as it is vulgularly called, is a license permitted to an artist-and I am an artist, for the nonce. ]3y-the-hy, did you know your uncle has engaged me profee~ sionally?" "What do you mean?" page: 30-31[View Page 30-31] 30 MABEL LEE. iN THE GARDEN. 31 "Just what I say. He was so much de- lighted with that miniature I painted of you, and regretted so deeply to find that it was not the work of a professional artist, that I could n~t help offering my services. And what do yoQ suppose he wanted me to do?" "Faint his own likeness." "No; that of some one else." Mr. Conway turned round and looked at his companion with some appearance of in- t~rest-the first he had evinced. "Not the cub's, surely." "Hardly," said his friend, with a laugh. "No; the divinity herself. Don't you envy me?" "Impossible to say, until I know wheth- er or not she has any brains under those golden locks of hers." "Brains are a very secondary considera- tion, caro mio. A woman's face is all that is worth attention-for, after all, there is scarcely an appreciable difference between the most foolish and the most wise among them." "I know you think so," said Mr. Con- way, indifferently. "But there have been women ~f sense-even from our stand-point, Ralph." "May all good angels deliver me from theni, then!" cried the other, fervently. "From ugly women and clever women may I be ever alike preserved I-There, the boat has touched the landing, and who is that going down to uteet it?" "My uncle,' I think." "But there is some one with him." "The nub, of course. He follows him about like a spaniel." "And bores him to death." "Tant Na jour Zui." Meanwhile, the boating-party were busi- ly disembarking, and had almost accom- plished that matter before Mr. Sexton and his nephew reached them. First came Mrs. Lee, the mcst delicate and helpless of hu- man beings, with Constance's graceful feat- ures, and Constance's soft, brown hair, but with a complexion that looked as if all color had long since been washed out of it, and wistful, lackadaialcal eyes - a being evidently on the gui 'vise for accidents, and ready to scream at every unoffending grass- hopper or caterpillar, but looking veryre- fined and pretty in her pearl-colored silk and purple ribbons, nevertheless; a being who was, plainly in a continual state of in- jured feeling and nervous apprehension- but extremely ladylike, and rather attrac- tive, despite these foibles. Then came Constance, all in a floating cloud of light gray 1~ar~ge-at which Mr. Nowell had looked very approvingly when she made her appearance down-stairs as they were aboutto set out. He entertained a very great regard for her-in a utilitarian point of view-and nothing pleased him more than the quiet style of dress she 111- ways adopted. He was continually holding up to Mabel her perfection of character and costume; but he would quite as soon have thought of falling in love with his aunt as with either the one or the other of these perfection. Yet Constance was looking very pretty just then-although the pallor had not left her face, or the tired look faded out of her eyes-for her misty draperies became her wonderfully; and so did the soft white lace she wore at her neck, and the knot of bright-blue ribbon in her hair. Last prose Mabel-to find awaiting her Mr. Seyton's eager, outstretched hand, and Mr. Seyton's loving, admiring eyes. "My rose-bud has surpassed herself," he said, in his delight; and then he led her forward, with quite a little air of triumph.-" Cyril," he said, addressing a young man who was talking to Mrs. Lee, "let me present you to my goddaughter." The gentleman addressed turned quickly and bowed deeply; then, as he raised his face, he gave one long look at the exquisite apparition before him. "I almost thought you were about to introduce the queen of the fairies, sir," he said. And the compliment was neither so far- fetched nor so high-flown as might at first be imagined-for Titania's self never trod earth in lovelier guise than did Mabel Lee that day. Her dress was only white mus- lin, but of exquisitely fine fab~ie, and its making had been a labor of love .to Qo~- stance's nimble fingers. Mr. Nowell groaned vainly over the endless ruffles, the dainty flounces, and airy puffs; he lectured vainly over the broad rose-colored sash and rib bons; for neither groans nor lectures short ened Constance's labor, or curbed Mabel's delight, one whit. He alone had refused his tribute of admiration when she came down fully dressed that day-refused it, though even Father Lawrence, who chanced to step in at the moment, had declared that she might be painted for St. Agnes or St. Cecilia. "I am sure that neither St. Agnes nor St. Cecilia ever wore any thing of that foolish and improper description," said Mr. Nowell, severely-and now he had to stand by and hear this impertinent coxcomb make a still more odious comparison. "The queen of the fairies, indeed! They will spoil her beyond all hope of cure," he thought to himself, savagely, wishing the while in his heart of hearts that he could take her away from them all, and shut her up where never man's eyes save his own should fall upon her-nor a man's voice speak admiration. Perhaps in that case he might have seen no harm even in the white muslin flounces and rose-colored ribbons. As for Mr. Cyril Harding, he was walk- ing beside Mrs. Lee, and answering her well- bred commonplaces, but he did little else save stare at Mabel, all the way to the * house-Mabel, who was clinging to her god- father's arm, and talking to him gayly, quite oblivious of the admiring eyes bent upon her, except that they had struck her as very black and very disagreeable in expression when she first met them. Yet Mrs. Phifer and the Misses Crane had thought Mr. Harding an exceedingly handsome man-and so he was, barring the unmistakable stamp of the prig, and barring also a certain solemnity of aspect and stiff- ness of demeanor, which did not sit well on so young a man, and gave him rather the aspect of a saturnine divine-an aspect which (like many other things too tedious to mention) requires a cultivated evangeli- cal taste to appreciate it; and which Mabel, being neither cultivated nor evangelical, did not at all fancy. "He looks like a preacher," she wl)is- I pered to her godfather, 'with a little confi- dential pressure of the arm. "I don't like him ~in the least." *" I wonder if you will like the other any better, Mab?" "That remains to be seen," she an- swered. And the next moment they were under the shadow of the portico. Mrs. Nesbitt, the housekeeper, met theni in the hall with many courtesies, and at once led the ladies away to the chamber~ prepared for their reception. Mrs. Lee ~vas~ to do the honors of the house on this occa- sion-the first of the kind on many a long day--so her interest in all the details of arrangement was,,for the time, quite as live- ly as if she had been iwna ftde mistress of Seyton House. In this mood, Mrs. Nesbitt was only too ready to humor her-there being this thing, that thing, and the other thing, concerning all of which she had wished to ask Mrs. Lee's advice. Would it trouble Mrs. Lee too much just to step down to the dining-room and pantry?~ She could decide so much better about the p~r~~zes after she had seen them-not to speak of the disputed point between herself and the but- ler as to the serving of fruit on silver or glass. Mrs. Lee replied that it would not in the least trouble her too much; and, bare- ly allowing Constance to fasten her collar, she rustled away, with the voluble house- keeper in close attendance. So, left alone, the two sisters looked at each other and smiled. "Mamma will be happy for the next hour," said Constance. "Now, what shall we do?" "Go down to godpapa," suggested Mabel. "Well, no; because that means going down to the other gentlemen also; and we shall have quite enough of them at dinner. Let us go to the garden. I have not seen it this spring." "Have you not? Then you have nob seen any of Mr. Farris's new improvements. Yes, that is where we will go, Put on your hat." "I have it here. Shall we go down the back-stairs?" "Of 'course; if we were seen, we should be waylaid. Hush, now I" MABEL LEE. 20 page: 32-33[View Page 32-33] JMABEL LEE. They ran. lightly down the narrow stairs, past the pantry, where Mrs. Lee's voice was heard emphatic in command and advice, down a passage, out of a side door, and straight across a green slope of sunny sward, into the beautiful and far-famed gardens of Seyton House. They had never looked more beautiful, or better deserved their fame, than on this lovely May afternoon; and the sisters wan- dered up and down the long alleys, admired all the skilful gardener's new improvements, and discussed the rival merits of :Noisette and Bengal roses, quite oblivious of the fact that many carriages had already deposited their occupants at the door of the house. Mabel, in especial, seemed to have entirely forgotten time and circumstances; and was only intent upon a certain South American shrub that she wished to show Constance, but could not find. She Wandered off in search of it, leaving her sister quite alone. The latter sat down patiently to wait her return; but it was not long before she heard her name called, and saw two gentle- men advancing down the path toward her. One, she knew, was Mr. Ainslie-the other she could only conjecture to be Mr. Conway. They apologized for their appearance, ex- plaining that the company having all ar- rived, while her sister and herself were not to be found in the house, Mr. Seyton had grown uneasy, and Mrs. Lee nervous, and they themselves had been sent in quest of the truants. ~o; Miss Lee must not think it was a trouble-or that they did not very willingly ~undertake such a pleasant service. They were fortunate to find her so soon; and-if they might inquire-where was her sister? Constance gave all the information she possessed on that subject, and Mr. Conway at once volunteered to seek the missing de- moiselle. "I know the locality of the Brazilian plant very well," he said.-.~" Ralph, you had better take Miss Lee to the house. I will follow with Miss Mabel as soon as I find her." So saying, he lifted his hat, and strode away down the same path that Mabel had taken ten minutes before. Suddenly he paused, for there, in an open space, was the brilliant tropical shrub, cov- ered with gorgeous blossoms, and scenting the air with its rich fragrance, while close beside it, bending over the cup of a large bloom, was a slender, white-clad form, that might have been a sylph or a saint, in that beautiful bright framework of flowers. He stood for a moment of strange self-forgetful- ness, gazing with admiration at this lovely vision; and it was only her evident and in- creasing embarrassment which recalled his recollection. "Pardon me," he said, courteously, as he advanced and took off his hat; "I amsorry to intrude-sorry to disturb you-but I have been sent-'-" "For me?" said Mabel, with a start. "Qh, dear I am I so late as that?" "You are very late," replied Mr, Con- way, smiling at her consternation. "Mrs. Lee and my uncle are becoming anxious, and the latter did me the honor to send me to hasten your return." "I am very sorry to have given you so much trouble. I will go and find my sister, who is in the garden also." "Miss Lee has already returned to the house with Mr. Ainslie." "Indeed!" She started quickly forward, but her muslin flounces caught ~n the prickly shrub, which seemed loath to let her go, and in an- other moment there might have been a de- stniction of all Constance's work, if Mr. Con- way had not come to the rescue. He bent over her to loosen the filmy fabric; bent so close that lie marked every throb of the azure veins on the hand that strove to help and only hindered him; so close that something seemed to unnerve him completely,. and the strong, subtle per- fame of the shrub rushed over him with an almost overpowering effect. In all the after- years of his life, he could never endure that fragrance, or see without a shudder the gor- geous blossoms that held Mabel Lee's dress that day, as if they held her from the fate she went to meet. "That will do, thank you. I am entirely disengaged now. But I am afraid you bav~ torn your hands dreadfully," said the sweet, IN THE GARDEN. girlish voice over his head. "They are something of the same way," replied Mabel, bleeding I" glancing up into the dark, handsome face He looked at them absently. They were that looked down upon her. "You have bleeding, certainly, but not very much. heard my dear godfather talk of me in a Taking from his pocket a white handker- way to prepossess liking, and I-" chief; he carelessly pressed it upon the She stopped suddenly, somewhat em- scratches, from which a few crimson drops barrassed. She certainly had not heard her had issued, and, smiling at the wistful cx- dear godfather speak of kim~ in terms that pressing of her face, held them out for her could possibly prepossess liking. inspection. "And you?" said Mr. Conway, who "Ihope your dress has suffered no more knew perfectly well why. she hesitated-Z' serious injury,". he said. "Will . you go "you could scarcely have heard any one now?" speak well of me. Do you mean to say "Yes, certainly." that we are not to like each other?" She spoke hurriedly, and again started She had recovered something of self- forward, for the Ayre code of propriety was possession by this time, and looked up now, very strict, and-what would they think of smiling quite archly. her in the d.a'awing-room? "You are very kind. But suppose I What they would think did not matter say, Yes?" in the least to Mi'. Conway; so, taking un- "I would not arivise it; that is all." fair advantage of her evident preoccupation "Why not?" of mind, he chose the most circuitous route He gave his careless, graceful shrug. to the house, and then proceeded to open a "Only because I should construe it into conversation, a challenge, and, as I am a man who seldom "Do you know I think we are en rap- suffers execution to fall short of resolve, I port, Miss Lee?" he said, in his frank, easy should end by making you like me whether manner. "I fancy that there is what my you would or no." friend Ainslie, who dabbles in metaphys- "Indeed!" ics, calls a 'sympathetic intuition' between He had succeeded in piquing her slightly. us. I cannot imagine, otherwise, why I The cool little "Indeed" testified to~ that. should have known you at once when I saw But it was only very slightly; for, after a you in~ that shop this morning; nor why I moment, she looked up with a sly, flitting. now feel a positive assurance that I need blush. not present myself formally to you, by "I don't think you need feel yourself mentioning my name. challenged, Mr. Conway. I have every dis.. "I cannot tell why you should have position to like you, for I am sure my dear known me," answered Mabel, smiling, and godfather's nephew mast be worth liking." blushing a little; "but the reason why I "Suffer me to remind you that relation- knew you is very simple. I have seen your ship to your dear godfather is a di~tinetion likeness." which I possess in common with Mr. Cyril Mr. Conway gave one flashing glance Harding." at her, and then laughed. "Well, and what then? I should say "So there goes all my fine theory of the same thing to Mr. Harding." sympathetic intuition-the way that most "Then you are very unkind, and little such theories would go, if we only knew the 'ungrateful, too," said her companion, smil-.. truth, I suspect. I shall tell Ainslie about ing. "My liking is rot, based upon any this the next time he bores me with Kant such ordinary consideration. I have heard and Jean Paul. I wonder if you are going my uncle talk of you incessantly ever ainee to deal so summarily with another idea of my arrival, without having once entertained mine.-~n idea that we shall like each the most transient desire -to see you; and other?'~ when your face drew me into the ribbon- "I think I might account for that in shop this morning, I should have felt pro- - S page: 34-35[View Page 34-35] 34 MABEL LEE., MR. AINSLIE'S EXPERIMENT. 35 cisely the same degree of interest if it had I belonged to Miss Mabel Smith, instead of Miss Mabel Lee." What could Mabel say? It was impossi- 4 ble for her to tell him that her liking ante- dated even this; and that, from the first hour when she saw it on the river, his face had never ceased to haunt both her waking and sleeping dreams. Fortunately, they came in sight of the drawing-room windows, and she was spared reply; for who should appear at one of them but Miss Lavinia Crane, with the sombre outline of Mr. Hard- ing looming behind her-a sight which at once banished every thing from Mabel's mind, save the dreadful thought of Ayre propriety! "What will they think of me?" she said, this time aloud; "and how shall I ever again have courage to go in?" "There is no difficulty about that," answered her companion, encouragingly. "Take my ~advice, and laugh it off care- lessly.~ Suppose we storm one of the win- dows? It will be a more informal mode of entrance than by the door." Mabel would have agreed to any thing; so they struck across the lawn, Mr. Conway drew aside the heavy silken draperies, and the next moment they faced that most solemn and injured of all assemblages-a party of people waiting for dinner. -4-- CHAI'TER VII. Mfl. AINSLIE'S EXPERIMENT. As usual, the anticipation considerably transcended the reality. A storm of laugh- ter and jesting reproaches greeted the tru- ant and her captor . that was all. The an- nouncement of dinner soon banished tliem from the public mind, and there ensued the bustle of getting more than thirty people~ into orderly array-a bustle which Mabel and her cavalier watched very quietly from their window stand-point, until Mrs. Lee swept by oa the arm of a portly ex-gov- ernor. "I am. very sorry, Mr. Conway," she paused a moment to say, "but you wrn have It be take Mabel into dinner. Everybody else Irns been disposed of, and-" "Heaven be praised for it!" said Mr. Conway, devoutly, as the rest of the sen- tence was lost in her onward progress. "Do you mean to say now that there is no truth in metaphysics, or luck in garden rambles, Miss Lee?" "I don't know," answered Miss Lee, a little doubtfully. "Is bringing ~ip the rear of a dinner-party proof of either? I hope, by-the-by, you don't mind cold soup, Mr. Conway ?-" "I prefer it warm, undoubtedly." "Then we had better move forward, for, as it is, I fear we shall hardly obtain good seats." They moved forward accordingly, and, being the last couple to enter the dining- room, drifted into what seats they could; and found on one side of them an old lady who had come to enjoy her dinner simply for her dinner's sake, and, on the other, two agricultural worthies, whose conversational ideas seemed bounded by tobacco-lands and Devon cattle. Mr. Conway made a wry face over his soup, which was very well cooled indeed; but, for all that, he did not seem to take his position much to heart. On the contrary, he was evidently in that frame of mind common to us all, when, from our own high estate of good fortune, or happiness, or whatever else it may be, we look with a sublime sort of pity on the low estate Of others. Glancing down the long table, he saw his friend Ainslie devoting himself to the entertainment of one of the prettiest girls in the room, and forthwith, without any apparent reason, he told Mabel that he was very sorry for him. "Sorry!" repeated Mabel, opening her eyes. "Why should you be sorry for him? Because he has not cold soup, like you?" "No; because he has to entertain that young lady with pink roses in her auburn hair. I tried her awhile before dinner, and I found-but I beg pardon, she may be a friend of yours." "She is not exactly a friend of mine," said Mabel, "but I like her very much. She is very nice, I assure you. I "She may~ he very nice, but she is ti farthest in the world from being very inte testing. What is her name? " "Nina Eston." "Rather pretty. So is she, barring ti color of her hair." "I like red hair," said Mabel, decided; "I a~ree with the Spaniards in considering it a great beauty." "I like golden hair," returned Mr. Coi way, with a point-blank stare at her ow locks. "In my opinion, people should ne~ er have any other sort. Do you think Aim lie's hair pretty? It is red enough to sui you." "On the contrary, it is not half rei enough to suit me," said Mabel, looking a Ainslie. ",It has a red dash, certainly; bu I should call it chestnut." "Should you? It's not my idea at all But I will ask him about it. He is an ar tist, and will know." "An artist!" repeated Mabel, and sh~ looked at him again. Then suddenly, with- out any connection with what had gone be- fore, she asked, "Does he mean to stay long at Seyton?" "That depends entirely on whether Sey- ton proves agreeable to him or not," Con- way answered, carelessly. "His time is quite at his own disposal, and he will stay as long as he finds it pleasant. Certainly, also, he will not leave with my uncle's good-will, for, by some means or other, he has quite won his heart." "Everybody seems to like him." "Like is a faint word. I have never seen any thing equal his power of fascina- tion: He charms people almost without an effort, by a single glance, or a singlet word." "I suppose he charmed you in that way?" "No, truly," answered he, with a laugh. "I am a very cold-blooded person, and al- though I like Ainslie tolerably well-better, much, than I like most people-yet no one could possibly accuse me of being fascinated by him. There is very little in common be- tween us, yet we agree somehow." "You will not mind if I ask you a ques- tion about him, then?" bie "Not in the~least. I' am at your service r- to answer a hundred, if you will." She hesitated a moment, and then glanced up, speaking hastily. ic "Is he a man whom you would trust?" Mr. Conway looked astonished, as in- y~ deed he had sufficient reason for doing. g "Trust!" he repeated, as if uncertain whether he heard her aright. "Yes, I i- should think so, as far as one would feel in- n dined to trust any man of acknowledged integrity, whose honor has never suffered by a shade. It cannot be that y~u have .t ever heard any thing to the contrary?" "No, no, nothing whatever." I "Then I hope you do not ask such awk- t ward questions about all new acquaintances; t for there are not many people who can boast a record so 8~fl8 reprocho as Ainslie; and T, for one, could ill afford to be judged in that way.~~ "You! But I never thought-" "Of questioning my trustworthiness," * he said, with a somewhat bitter laugh. "I hope you will not, Miss Lee, for there are many besides your friend Mr. Blake who will be ready to assure you that no good fruit ever came of an evil tree." "I seldom take my opinions second hand," said Mabel, flushing; "and I should no more dream of condemning a man for hi~ ancestor's vices, than I should think it safe to trust him on the credit of their virtues." "You are very good to say so," answered he, gratefully. "There are so few people who sympathize with black sheep, that we appreciate such liberality of sentiment when we find it. Do you know, I don't think there would be half so many of us~ if we did not feel reckless from being placed ~o mercilessly 'under the ban?"' Before dinner was over, the suui went down, and, when they all returned to the drawing-room, they found its lamps lighted, and gleaming in every direction, though the windows were still open, and the spring dusk was dying away among the blossoms outside. The elder people, who had a whole- some fear of mists and the lik~, remained within, and settled themselves to whist and conversation; but the younger members of the company wandered out to the terrace, 9 page: 36-37[View Page 36-37] MABEL LEE. 38 MR. AINSLIE'S EXPERIMENT. 87 and made more than one passer-by on the river start at the echo of their clear, young voices and ringing laughter. Such sounds were not common about Seyton House; and the boatman or two who pulled lazily past, stared curiously at the windows that sent forth broad gleams of light, and the groups leaning over the terrace balustrade caught the verses of song floating out in the still air, and thought, no doubt, that the festive ap- pearance of the whole scene was very attrac- tive "It looks pleasant, does it not?" said Mabel, as she sat with Mr. Hai'ding, near one of the windows, and gazed out with eyes full of wistful longing. She was very young yet, ~ud found it as hard to remain quietly in the house and listen to solemn dissertations on "the sublime, the heroic, and Mr. Carlyle," while the purple twilight gathered, the mocking-birds sang, and the gay voices laughed outside, as if she had been seven instead of seventeen. "It looks pleasant, does it not? But I beg par- den. 'You were saying-" "Nothing of much importance," said Mr. Harding, who did netlike to be inter- rupted, and who, during the lasthalf hour, had arrived at the conclusion that it was a great pity that Mabel was so pretty, and a still greater pity that she was Mr. Seyton's goddaughter, since, but for those twp facts, tie would have taken himself and his con- versational powers where they would have been sure of favorable appreciation-" noth- ing o~ much importance. I was only quot- ing-but it does not matter. Will you go on the terrace, Miss Lee?" "No, thank you," said Miss Lee, hasti- ly; for, though the terrace m itself was very desirable, the terrace, with Mr. Harding for a companion, would be worse than thE drawing-room, inasmuch as there could b~ no hope of rescue there. "I am very com- fortable. Do you like music, Mr. Hardingi I see Nina Eston going to the piano, and w think that she sings yery finely. You msil have heard her. She is first soprano in__" She stopped short, and colored; where' upon Mr. Harding immediately inquire where it was that Miss Eston was first so prune. "In a place where you are not likely to have heard her," answered Mabel, laughing a little at her own stupidity. "In our choir, that is. Her 'Agnus Dci' last Sun- day was beautiful." At the mere sound of these words, Mr. Harding stiffened into reserve and silence. He could do a great deal, he could constrain himself a great deal, for the sake of the end he held in view; b*ut one thing he could not do, one point where he could not constrain himself, was when people spoke in his pres- ence of that Church which, in all sincerity, he believed to be the wife of the devil. Like Mause Headrigg, his convictions were too strong either for policy or courtesy, and it became a matter of simple necessity to speak his mind freely. "Xe, I never heard Miss Eston," he said. "I am sorry that I am not likely to do so when she sings an-an 'Agnus Dci,' or any thing of that sort. I hope I am not a bigot, Miss Lee, but I hold your churches to be the abodes of error, and I never enter them." "I do not think they could possibly harm you," said Mabel, simply. "But nothing is so useless as religious discussion. How animated they' are at the whist-table yonder! Are you fond of ~ "I never play it," answered the evan- gelical gentleman, in his most evangelical tone. "I disapprove of all games on prin- ciple. Backgammon, now, or draughts-" "Will he ask me to play either of then~?" thought poor Mabel,'In con~terna- tion; but just then the diversion for which she had been longing arrived. There was a movement upon her position. Mr. Ainslie came to the rescue, and, notwith- standing her unfavorable verdict at din- ncr, there was no doubt but that Mabel was heartily glad to see him-as, indeed, she would have been glad to see any one who relieved her of the irksome weight of Mr. Harding's attentions. Ainslie had a pack of cards in his hand, and, as he sat down, was shuffling them. "Don't think that 'I mean to ask you I to play any thing," said he, laughing at the - expression on Mabel's face, for it is not often that ~ay seventeen has zany liking for cards. "I am something of a conjurer, however, and I mean to tell your fortune. May I?," "Of course you may," answered she, smiling. "Isn't one always glad to have one's fortune told? The desire of my heart has always been to meet a gypsy. Are you a gypsy, Mr. Ainslie?" "For the present, I am any thing you choose,~' said Mr. Ainslie, gallantly. "'Being your slave, what should I do but tend Upon the hours and times of your desire?' "Don't think, however, that this is any commonplace or vulgar mode of telling for- tunes," he went on. "It is something quite unique, one of the most peculiar things I ever knew and" (cutting and shuffling dili- gently) "the accuracy of the result always surprises me as much as it surprises or could surprise any one else. It was taught me by an old Arab with whom I was on terms of great intimacy in Algiers.-Ilard- ing, my good fellow, will you give me that stand at your elbow? Thanks-much obliged.-Xow, Miss Lee, put your hand on these cards. Something of personal mag- netism i8 essential to the success of the ex- periment." "I really thought," said Mr. Harding, with a grim sneer, "that only charlatans walked nonsense of that kind." "Far be it from me to hint that you are mistaken," replied Mr. Ainslie. "We all have an element of charlatanry, more or less-..haven't we? My element is upper- most just now-that is all.-Miss Lee, your 1 whole hand, if you pleas~ Yes-that is it." 1 Miss Lee obediently placed her hand on some caltds which he laid before her. Tell-. ing the fortune, however, proved quite a I long and rather a complicated undertaking. An abstruse calculation of some sort was necessary, in which Mr. Ainslie made van- ~ ous mistakes, as amateur conjurers usually do, and was various times compelled to re- t trace his steps, and "go back to the begin- ning." After he had gone back to the be- s ginning quite often, Mr. Harding wearied ~ of the entertainment, and walked away. s Conway, who had been watching his oppor- tunity, then came forward. "Is Ralph showing you his Arabian mode of telling fortunes?" asked he. "It is surprising how often he hits the truth.- Ainslie, do you remember how incredulous Cunningham was when you told him he would be married within three months? Yet that fast Miss What.was-her-name had him in her toils before that time. When I reminded him of the cards, he only smiled a very ghastly smile. Poor fellow! He was a melancholy example of what cones of 'only spooning' with a clever woman!" "That affair of Rosset was still more surprising," said Ainslie, between the inter- vals of counting his cards. "Yes, that was astonishing," said Con- way.-" He was a young fellow in Paris, Miss Lee-as well and strong as I am now, when Ralph told his fortune for him. The cards announced his death within twenty- four hours. As you may imagine, he laughed at it, and did not let the dismal prophecy prevent his starting to Bordeaux the next morning. The first news we heard was, that there had been a railroad accident and Rosset was one of the killed." "But you don't mean that yoti think it was any thing more than a coincidence!" cried Mabel, somewhat aghast. "I am in- clined to be credulous of marvels, Mr. Con- way, but really this is beyond even my powers of belief." "I merely state the facts," answered Qonway. "Interpret them in any manner ~'ou please-Ralph, I am sure, will allow ~rou every latitude. You don't intend to ~clieve what he tells you about yourself~ ;hen?" "That depends upon whether or not it s pleasant. What is it, Mr. Ainslie? Sure- y you have arrived at some decision by this ime!" "'What is it, Ralph?" asked Conway, noticing that his friend had the cards spread ~ut before him, and was intently regarding heir 'combinations. Thus addressed, Mr. Ainslie started, and, omewbat hastily, shuffled the cards to- ~ether again. Then he looked up with a mile. "I can make nothing of it," he said. It is all utter nenser~se-suoh complete 87 page: 38-39[View Page 38-39] MABEL LEE. MR. AINSLIE'S EXPERIMENT. nonsense that I decline to risk my conjuring i'4utatien upon it. Miss Lee, I will show you some genuine juggler's links now." They were very wonderful tricks, in- deed, and, before long, the juggler had at- tracted round him the major part of Mr. Seyto~t's guests. Even the whist-players forsook their table to see the ace of hearts vanish up Mr. Ainslie's sleeve, and reappear nuder a vase at the farther side of the room. The whole company were so harmed that when he came to the end of his repertoire they gave him a unanimous and enthusias- tic encore. "Or, if you don't want to repeat those things," cried Miss Eston, "show us sOme- thing more remarkable. I know you can if ~o&~ill~ lie told me at dinner he could mesmerize' people," she added, turning to the ezpectant company. "I tell you what he shall do-he shall mesmerize me." There w~s a general laugh at this. "If he succeeds, he will be a wonderful person, Nina," said Mr. Seyton. "I can't fancy you a subject for magnetism-can you, Mr. Ah~slle?" "I urn only an amateur dabbler in the science," said Mr. Ainslie, with becoming modesty. "I doubt if I can succeed inmag- ifetizing anybody, but it will give me pleas- ure to try an' experiment with Miss Eston." The' experiment was tried accordingly, and, as a - matter of course, failed. The ~ould-be'subject laughed all the time, and, tufter~ many passes, and much intent gazing, Mr. Ainsile was compelled to declare that it waS impossible to produce any effect upon her. "Supposa you try Mabel?" said Miss Eston. "Somehow, I have an idea that you would succeed with her." "I doubt extremely if I would succeed with anybody," said Ainslie, shrugging his shoulders. "Still, if Miss Lee does not ob- ject-" But, as it chanced, Miss Lee did object. Th everybody's surprise, she shrank from the proposal with something almost like alarm. "I cannot think of such a thing, Mr. Ainslie," she said. "Indeed, I cannot." "There is really nothing to fear," said Mr. Ainslie, with a laugh. "I can make the passes-~-I learned that much from Graf- ner, you know, Conway-but I assure you I have no idea that I will be able to affect you." "Still I am so fanciful that I shrink from the idea, and I really cannot consent to-to try it." "Your temperament and organization give some hope of success," said Mr. Ainslie, meditatively. "You would not shrink from the influence if it were powerless to affect you. I should like to try the experiment, but, of course, if you object, I cannot press the point." "Thank you," said Mabel, looking re- lieved. "I am sorry to seem ungracious and unwilling to contribute my share to the public amusement," she added, after a mo- ment, "but if you only knew with what a nervous shrinking-almost a nervous terror -the mere idea fills me " "laugh at it," said Philip Conway, "and then there will be no fear of his succeed- ing. "That is what shc cannot do," said the other, in a tone of perceptible triumph. And indeed she could not. The myste- rious power already seemed to have influ- enced the highly-strung nervous tempera- ment on whose exquisite sensitiveness the amateur mesmerist reckoned not without reason. Seeing how pale she became, Ains- lie ceased to urge the experiment upon her; but others crowded around by this time, and beset her resolution with numberless entreaties. "Mabel, do!" "Mabel, pray do!" "Mabel, you surely have not the heart to disappoint us so." "Dear me) Mabel, how can you be such a coward?" '~ 0 Mabel, try to oblige us." Last came Mr. Seyton, saying: "My pet, you can gratify these foolish people." And thenConstance: "Darling, will you try to do it, or shall I send them all away?" In this strait, Mabel looked up at Philip Conway. If he had said, "Don't," she might have withstood them all~ But he. too, was curious to try the experiment; he. too, only thought her terror the fanciful child of ignorance; so he only asked: "Do you think your courage is equal to the venture now?" And, with a sigh, she answered "yes." The eager group drew near, forming s hollow square about them, while Ainslie fixed his eyes upon her with a concentrated expression, and, slowly and at intervals, made the passes. From the very first it was evident how rightly he had judged that she was entirely susceptible to the influ- ence; for, although there was a good deal of laughter and whispered comment going on, her attention never once wandered from his face; Jier gaze never once wavered from the deep, brilliant eyes that regarded her so steadfastly. After a while the pupils of her own eyes began to dilate perceptibly, and then a subtle difference of expression grad- ually came over the face-a difference that it was impossible for any one present to analyze-but that every one perceived. A sudden accession of interest came over them all, and then- "Mabel," cried an audacious voice in the rear, "how do you feel now?~~ Mr. Ainslie lifted his hand in quick re- monstrance, but it was too late. Without removing her eyes, Mabel answered, drop- ping her syllables slowly one by one, as if already she had spoken under the influence of another power than that of mere personal volition: "I feel strangely happy-strangely at rest. But I also feel powerless-bound fast -under a spell, as it were. A cold, waver- ing flame seems creeping over me. I feel it tingling like the charge of an electric bat- tery. But it does not shock, it does not burn, it only seems to pervade me with-" At that moment the brilliant, steady eyes seemed to fix themselves upon her with fresh power, and the words -were hushed on her lip. Still looking at him, she suddenly relapsed into silence, andthe strange, subtle expression-the change which no one could deflu~e-deepened and deepened upon h~r face, until it seemed to pervade and take entire possession of it. Then he bent down 9 gently, and breathed slightly on her fore- head, remaining in the attitude for a second, I perhaps. The least interested among the lookers on had not time to grow impatient, I however, before he stepped away, for all to see the result. She was leaning against the back of her chair, with the careless, un- conscious grace of profound slumber, while its deep crimson velvet threw into relief her tinted face, her golden ~curls, and airy mus~ lin dress. Yet not tli~ most ignorant per- son present could have supposed for a mo- ment that what they saw was slumber; for the eyes were open, though vacant, as if sleep-walking; the brow slightly contracted, but evidently not by pain, for the lips were faintly smiling, and the hands fell loosely, and relaxed on either side. There was a moment's profound hush- a moment in which awe rushedsuddenly over every heart that had been laughing and mocking five seconds before-and then Mr. Ainslie's voice broke on the stillness: "There, my friends, is an answer fo~ all who doubt the truth or power of mesmer- ism" Then broke forth a many-voiced ques- tion: "Is she mesmerized?" The answer was deep and almost sol- emn: "She is mesmerized." They gathered around close, and yet closer, touching her, speaking to her, lifting the passive hands, and proving, by every means in their power, how deep and perfect was the magnetic trance., Stir and move- ment there were none. Save for the regtu~ lar breathing and the relaxation of every muscle, it might have been death insteadof life on' which they gazed. To Mr. Ainslie himself, Mrs. Leo was the first one to utter a direct inquiry bearing upon the state. " Good heavens! how frightful it loQk5!" she cried, with a shudder. "Mr. Ainsile-.- of course I don't mean to doubt your word -but are you 8U70 there is no danger in it?" "Danger, my dear madam?" said Ains~ lie, with a smile. "What danger conid there be? If there. had been the least poe- * sibility of it, do you think I would have -/ A NABEL LEE. page: 40-41[View Page 40-41] 40 MABEL LEE. asked Miss Lee to submit to the experi- ment?'~ "But she looks so dreadfully. Make her do something, say something, to show that she is aliVe." "I am not at all sure that I can," said Ainslie, looking at Conway, who was lean- ing over the back of the chair, close to the place where Mabel's head rested. "I am entirely an amateur; and this result is al- most as unexpected to me as to any one else. However, I will try. What shall I ask her?" Conway, at whom he was looking, an- swered before Mrs. Lee could speak. "Ask her, my dear fellow, what was the fortune prophesied by the cards a little while ago." Ainslie changed color-all the curious lookers-on noticed that-and hesitated for a itioment. "You would only have my word for the accuracy of her reply," he said at last. "I -you better ask something which would be a more satisfactory proof, Phil." "I will take your word concerning the accuracy," said Conway in his easy way, which could yet be a very obstinate way, "and this proof will be quite satisfactory enough. Ask her, Ralph-I insist upon it." "But it is nonsense," persisted Ainslie. '~ The fortune was no fortune at all. I made a mistake in the calculation, and it came to nothing; I told you that! t' Yes, you told me that," said the other, dryly. "I am not a member of the honor- able corps of marines, however, and I knew better! Come, make haste-Miss Lee will wake up if you wait much longer." "Ask her, Mr. Ainslie!" criQd the vex populi. "You must ask her!" Mr. Ainslie shrugged his shoulders as he had shrugged them several times before, gave Conway a glance which did not savor overmuch of gratitude, and then turned to Mabel. When he asked the question, she answ4~red at once, but in a dreamy voice, aa of one who replied from some far-off region. "The combinations were peculiar," she said. "Three times the same result was oh- tamed. The prophecy was of impending trouble, and an early, tragical death." "Is that true?" said Conway, in a low~ tone to Ainslie. "It is quite true," answered the other. "I did not like to tell her the result after those stories you had been relating-but, queerly enough, she has hit upon iii." "Was she right? Is it true?" asked those around, eagerly. When they heard that it was true, something like an awe set- tled upon them. The superstition latent in human nature asserted itself immediately. The tone of the unconscious girl had been more even than her words. Jesting gave way to gravity, and the least impressionable could not resist a feeling that she had been reading her own doom in that strange, un- impassioned voice. Folly? Yes, folly, of course, and very dangerous folly, but yet folly to which we are all exceedingly prone. Then they had been wrought up by such gradual degrees that they were really not very much to blame. Some ladies grew pale, others shuddered, and. the general im- pression seemed to be that Mabel had bet- ter be roused. Mr. Seyton, however, inter- posed. "One moment," said he. "You are sure there is no suffering in the state?" "Perfectly sure, but, if you desire it, I can ask herself." He turned back again, and put the ques- tion. It was ans~vered at once in the nega~ tive. "I feel strangely happy; strangely at rest," Mabel reiterated. "There seems to be a sea of light and sweet odor around ~ne. It is only when you lay your hands on me, as you are doing now, that I feel the cold, wavering flame flickering up and~1own." "But the flame is not painful?" "No; only strange." "Do you object to remaining in the state a little longer?" -" No; not in the least." Mr. Ainslie looked round at his host. "Are you satisfied, sir?" he inquired. "Sufficiently satisfied to ask you to give us one more proof of magnetic influence, be- fore you rouse her," Mr. Seyton answered. "I have heard, or read, that a mesmerist5 by the mere exercise of his will, can sum- mon his subject to him from any distance. Show us that, and we will credit your phe- nomenon." "I will do it," said Ainslie. This time he did not qualify his words by adding, "I will try;" for it was evident that the realization of his own power was coming to him by degrees, and that he now felt little or nothing of the doubt and un- certainty he had experienced at first. "I will do it," he said; and his eyes brightened, and a fiu~h rose over his face at the proposal. "Come, then," said Mr. Seyton, "come everybody-we will go to the library and see if he can summon her." NobodAy spoke a dissenting word, for ex- citement and interest were now at their height. Only Constance declared her in- tention of remaining behind with her sister, and was accordingly left. The rest proceeded to the library, which was on the same floor, and made one of the suite of the drawing-room. Several apart- ments intervened, however, so that the test, if it succeeded at all, would be very com- plete. There was some confusion when they entered, for only a single shaded lamp burned on one of the tables, diffusing a sort of mellow moonlight which made the tran- sition from the brilliantly-lighted rooms through which they had passed, almost that of darkness: but, after a while, their eyes grew accustomed to the demi-obseure, and they found that they could see each other with perfect distinctness. They all grouped themselves about the room in various pc~si- tious; but, immediately beside the table, Ainslie took his stand4 "Be perfectly quiet now,'~ he said, ad- dressing the company in general. And then he raised his hand in the attitude of his first pass, and fixed his eyed intently on the closed door-fixed them so intently, so steadily, with such burning power, that Miss Nina Eston told Mr. Harding in a whis- per that she was sure he saw through it. Several minutes of profound silence fol- lowed, during which the mesmerist did iiot I move even as mt~ch as a muscle, and every I eye in the room ifras eagerly and anxiously TAKING COUNSEL. 4L turned toward the door. Would it prove a failure at last? Would she remain uninfin- ejiced? No. Hark! was it not a light step, a faint rustle, an advancing movement? Almost as they asked themselves the ques- tion, and doubted in their own minds whether their nerves were not sufficiently~ excited foi~ them to imagine any thing, the door suddenly opened wide, and there on the threshold, with. the same strange, sleep~ waking gaze, stood Mabel Lee! Everybody present looked at his or her neighbor, and then back again to the mes- merized girl, in speechless astonishment. Then, before the hush was broken by even one word, a slender figure passed Mabel, and touched Mr. Ainslie's arm. "I cannot bear it! It is too awful I" Constance said. "Wake her-wake her!" "We will take her back to the dining- room first," he answered, quietly. "Jt will be better to rouse her there." "I will take her back, if you please." "No you must stand away, Miss Lee, -she will follow no one but me." A few minutes later he was making the reverse passes, while Governor Eston looked on good-humoredly. "It is my turn next," lie said. "I am curious to know if you will get the better of me." But he was destined not to be gratified by this knowledge; for just then Mabel began to move in a natural manner. After a moment she sat upright, and looked round her with a wild, bewildered stare, which lasted until her glance fell on Ainslie. Then she gave one shuddering cry, and sank back fainting into Constance's arms. CHAPTER VIII. TAKING COUNSEL. MANY days elapsed after this before any ~ne saw Mabel's face beyond her chamber- loor. She was borne out of the room in an Lnsensible condition that night, and, a week Later, her mother and sister were still de~ ;ained with her at Seyton House. For, in ;ruth, she was ill, as people of exquisite or~ page: 42-43[View Page 42-43] 42 MA~W~ii ganizations alone can be -prostrated in mind and body, thoroughly unstrung and almost ehildish in the nervous terrors that beset her-terrors so fan6ful and so con- tinual, that only the utmost care was able to prevent their assuming the form of de- lirium. "It is nothing but that miserable foolery which is the ~ said the doctor, too angry to be very careful in the selection of terms. "I am not surprised at your moth- 6r, Miss Constance, but I am surprised at you. You ought to have known your sis- ter's temperament better than to have al- lowed such a thing. You certainly ought tQ be aware that you can't tamper with her as you can with other pe~le. Or, if you do, by George, madam, you'll simply end by putting tier in a lunatic asylum!" "But doctor, how could I think-" Constance began, only the doctor was al- ready gone, fretting and fuming as he went. Like all the rest of the Ayre people, he loved Mabel as his own child; and it enraged him to see how little her nearest friends un- derstood the care with which she should be treated. "They seem to forget all about her fa- ther," he said to his wife, when he was de- ~cribing her illness and its cause - "they seem to forget all about her father; and they seem to know nothing whatever about herself, or her peculiar organization. 11cr silly mother might be excused; but Miss Constance "-and that was the point to which he always came back. Poor Con- etance bad a good deal to bear during those days of ~Eabel's continued illness - the -doctor's censure, her mother's reproaches, Mr. -Seyton's nervous anxiety, Mr. Ainslie's self-blame, and, above all, her own doubts and fears. But then she was formed to bear all sorts of things, and it is to be hoped it did not go very hard with her, there- fore. At last, however, Mabel came forth to the outer world, herself once more, although it was a very pale and drooping self, with a strangely nervous manner, and a shade of terror in her eyes, the first time she was ~or~ed to meet Mr. Ainslie, and hear his earnest apologies and self-reproaches. i ij.ulIi. TAKING COUNSEL. "It was really nothing-only I was so very foolish," she said; and then she es- caped from him, as soon as she possibly could, being glad of an interruption even from Mr. Harding. Mr. Ainslie watched her as she moved away, with an expression of great chagrin on his face; and then he turned to Con- stance. They were all together, on the ter- race, and he had nothing to do but move toward the balustrade where she was lean- ing. "I am afraid your sister will never for- give me for that unhappy blunder of mine, he said, inca tone of deep self-vexation. "I wish-I wish I could do something to con- vince her how deeply I regret it." "Indeed you are mistaken," Coiistance said, earnestly. "Forgive you! she does not attach the least blame to you. How could she? Sh~ only blames herself; and if she rather avoids you-" "She does, undoubtedly." "It is only because you are associated with the recollection of her sufferings-not because there is any question of her forgiving you." "I shall never forgive myself;~~ be said, with evident sincerity-and then he added nothing more, but stood looking down into the clear water far below, and scarcely heeding, as it seemed, the light ripple of - talk and laughter around him. Mabel's re- appearance had made a great change in the atmosphere at Seyton House, and the spirits of its inmates. Mrs. Lee relapsed from a state of actively injured feeling, into one that was merely passive. Mr. Seyton was fairly radiant with pleasure, and the trio of gentlemen guests all betokened satisfaction -each in his own way. Mr. Harding showed bus, in solemn and verbose con- gratulations; Mr. Ainslie in freely-ex- pressed relief and self-reproach, and Mr. Conway in an intangible change of manner and appearance, which was easily to be ob- served, but hardly to be described. Nobody had taken much notice of him or his state of feeling, while Mabel was sick; but, if they had done so, they would have found that his concern was much more sincere and unaffected than could have been ex- I pected, from a man of his stamp, for a girl, of the sweet face leaning over the balus~ however pretty, whom he had l~nown only trade above him, and instead of skirting for the space of one evening. Whatever round to the regular landing-place, he were the reasons-and Philip Conway was sprang ushers just at the foot of the bluff; not a man much given to self-analysis-at any and commenced the ascent, with the quick, rate he had been, to say the least of it, very agil& ease of a trained climber. uncomfortable. He had smoked number- "Oh, how rash, how foolish!" cried less cigars, up and down the garden-paths Mabel, breathlessly. "Speak to him, Mr. where he had first spoken to her, and Harding, please. Tell him to go back! If whence he commanded a view of her win- lie makes only one- false step-" dow, with Constance's slender figure and "He is hardly likely to do that," aaid graceful profile passing and repassing be- Mr. Harding, who felt in truth profoundly fore it; and he cut Ainslie very short, in- indifferent as to whether he did or not. deed, when the latter suggested that the "As I was about to remark, the deep mesmerism experiment was perhaps most of blue of the sky relieves so admirably those all his (Conway's) fault, since Mabel had gorgeous~~~ left the final decision to him. "Ah! "cried Mabel, with a little scream, could I tell that you were going as a large stone fell with a loud splash into to treat her in that way?" lie demanded, the water below. sharply. " I was a fool to trust you, per- "My dear, how you jar one's nerves!" baps; but you certainly assured me Aliat said her mother, petulantly. the confounded thing could do no harm." "What is the matter, petite?" asked "Harm!" said Ainslie, who was astride Mr. Sexton, quickly. of his hobby immediately. "Harm, my Petite was spared reply, for at the mo- dear fellow? It would be the greatest ment Philip Conway gained the top of the benefaction of the age. It will supersede terrace, lightly vaulted over the balustrade, the old system of philosophy and science, and stood flushed, smiling, and handsome, by a newer, broader, grander-" by her side. "Humbug!" concluded the other, turn- "How could you do it?" she cried, ig- ing on his heel. "If you want to hear my noting all other greetings, though she had opinion, it is simply this: d-n it!" not seen him before since the evening of the At the present time, Mr. Conway did unfortunate experiment. "You might have not form one of the terrace group-having broken your neck-~and all for nothing! - gone down to Ayre on some business or How could you do it?" some pleasure of his own, which he did not "How could I help doing it, rather.- trouble himself to explain-but it chanced when I caught a glimpse of your face?" he that just as Mabel was moving away from answered, lightly. "There was no fear of Mr. Ainslie, with the saturnine Harding, a my neck-I have climbed too often for-that light boat shot into sight, and paused just -but, if there had been, I think I should below them, at the foot of the bluff. have done the same, to tell you five minutes "I cannot conceive that the sunset ef- sooner how glad I am to see you again." - fects of Italy are more beautiful than those "I am glad to be seen once more," Ma~ which adorn our horizons," Mr. Harding bel replied; and the warm blood which was was saying, in his pompous style. "The dying her cheeks made her look so much masses -of crimson clouds yonder are so ad- like her usual self, that Mr. Conway began mirably relieved by " - to consider that the most of his discomfort -" There is- Mr. Conway," said Mabel, on her account had been suffered without breaking in quite abruptly. "Surely lie cause. will not think of- coming up the face of the "Are you?" he said. "Then I wonder bluff. It is said to be quite dangerous, t~nd you kept yourself hidden sb long. It would -~-.ah! but he is!" - be impossible to tell what we have all en~ * He was indeed; for he had caught sight dured in the way of self-reproach; and, for page: 44-45[View Page 44-45] MABEL LEE. my part, I shall never know a quiet con- science again until you assure me of your forgiveness for my share in that wretched "I have nothing to forgive," Mabel answered, very much as she answered Mr. Ainslie; but ah! in such a different tone. "I was foolish, that was all. It is I who ought to beg everybody's pardon, for the trouble and commotion I caused." "Everybody's pardon is freely granted, with everybody's heart," he said, gayly. "But ought you to be out here without any wrapping?" "Oh, I think so. The evening is so beau- tiful." "Is it not? As I came down the river I thought I had never seen any thing more perfect than the whole effect of time and scene. Will you let me row you a little way? I am sure you would enjoy it." "I am sure of it, too. But mamma would never consent." "Why not? There's nothing the matter with the evening, I'm sure. It is as charm- ing as the first of June ought to be; and-I am determined you shall go.-Harding, my dear fellow, if you will bring Miss Lee a scarf from the house, we may allow you to accompany us." Mr. Harding was so entirely taken by surprise, that for the moment he had no excuse ready, so he walked away, in search of the desired scarf, while Mabel looked ye- ~roachfully at her companion. "You have given Mr. Harding that trouble for nothing," she said. "ThKey will never let me go." "Indeed I am not sure of that," an- swered he. "I am just going to try my power of persuasion on Mrs. Lee." "It is scarcely worth while; for Con- stance will make her say no." "Perhaps it is to Miss Lee, then, to whom I should appeal?" Mabel shook her head with a laugh. "That would be quite useless. Con- stance is not to be moved-even by your persuasions. "If you say that, I shall certainly try it." "Are you in earnest I" "Yes, for I am sure you will fail.'~ "That savors of a challenge," he said. And he forthwith took himself over to Con- stance. He returned shortly, however, look- ing decidedly crestfallen. "Miss Lee is adamant," he said~ "Tam sorry, for we would enjoy it very much; and there is really not the least danger of your taking cold. However, let us go and look at the Brazilian plant. There is no doubt of your being allowed to do that, I suppose I" "No," replied Mabel, with a little laugh; and they strolled away in the direction of the gardens. They had scarcely disappeared, when Mr. Harding returned, laden with a large shawl which he had taken, in despair, from one of the hall-tables; and which would quite have sufficed to smother Mabel. "What! have they gone?" he cried, looking round him as he came out, and missed two faces from the circle. "Conway and Miss Lee have gone, if that is what you mean," said Mr. Ainslie, carelessly. "What are you going to do with that shawl?" "They sent for it-Miss Lee sent for it, 'that is. Where is she? In the boat i" "In the boat! No, of course not. She has gone to the garden." "To the garden! But she said she was going on the river." * Mr. Ainslie laughed. They were a little apart from th~ others, so he could say pretty much what he pleased without fear of being overheard. "My dear fellow," he said, "a man of your age is not surely just beginning to learn that to say one thing and mean another, is quite second nature with women. If Miss Lee said that she was going on the river, no doubt she meant that she was going in the garden." "Hurnph 1" (with something of a growl~, "I suppose Conway persuaded her." "No doubt Conway did." "Confound him!" said Mr. Harding, in a~very far from evangelical tone; and then he walked away~ Now, before proceeding further, it may 44 44 MABEL LEE. TAKING COUNS~L. 45 be as well to state that Mr. Harding ha heard from his Phifer and Crane friend the rumor which gave Mr. Seyton credi for intending to find an heir for his estat and a husband for his goddaughter at th same time and in the same person, and tha he believed it. Indeed, to him, as to th Ayre world, nothing seemed more likely Everybody knew how richly the master ol Sexton House would endow Mabel Lee, ii family honor did not stand in the way And what, therefore, could be more prob able than that he desired to give her th heritage in the only practicable manner, hI making her the wife of one of his nephews In reality, such an idea had never once en tered Mr. Seyton's head. But the world it which h~ lived gave him credit for it, and, what was more to the purpose, Cyril Hard. ing did so likewise. Having once iuiide up his mind that this was his uncle's intention, he was not long in also making up his mind to strain every nerve to win Mabel's favor; since Mabel's favor was an essential condi- tion of heirship. Of course it is unnecessary to say that all of Mr. Harding's grandilo- quent professions of desiring his cousin's success, had been but lip-deep; and that in reality he would scarcely have hesitated 'at any means short of actual dishonesty, to ob- tain the rich heritage which he had so long been taught to expect. From his earliest infancy, two things had been sedulously in- stilled into his mind: one was dislike and distrust of his cousin, Philip Conway; the other, a longing to be master of Seyton House. "My brother is a very eccentric man in some respects," his mother would loftily say, "but he is not lacking either in sense or principle, and he will never hesitate between a high-minded Christian gentleman, and a card-playing adventurer, like my sister Adela's unfortunate son." in this view of the case, the high-minded Christian gentleman entirely coinAded; and although he was a good enough sort of man in his way, and after the fashion of his narrow- minded class, yet the desire for this inherit- ance had so taken possession of him, that Philip Conway, adventurer though he was, might, in comparison, have been esteemed almost disinterested. No doubt the latter d was sufficiently a man of the world, and had s suffered keenly enough the most real forms .t of pecuniary difficulty and destitution, to e appreciate fully all the advantage~ that o would result from the possession of what t seemed his natural heritage, but his was o not a mercenary nature, and mercenary cal- culationa were simply impossible to him. Money was an excellent thing in his opin- ion, and well worth having,, for all the pleasure and freedom it would bring; but - money, for mere money's sake-the gay, reckless philosophy of the man knew liter- ally nothing of such a thing. "My poor boy," his mother would sometimes say, when creditors were particularly unpleasant, or something else had gone wrong, "per- haps some day all this will end-perhaps somo day you will be master of Seyton House." "I would not advise you to count on It, * madre mia," the young soldier of fortune would reply. "My uncle will hardly ever trust his rich acres to my hands. And in- deed I do not think I should know n~yself if I were metamorphosed into any thing half so staid and respectable as the master of Sexton House." He began to think, however, that ho might know himself, and feel his circum- stances to be very pleasant, as he walked by Mabel Lee's side, down the broad garden-al- leys, with luxuriant shrubs, and trim-clipped hedges on either side, with the bright June sunshine slanting over the flower-beds, and making the river a stream of molten gold, with the stately old house behind him, and the broad fields of the Seyton heritage stretching away far as the eye could reach. Yes, it was a happy, peaceful spot of earth, and for once the charm of pastoral beauty and content entered even into his restless, wayward heart. For a while he forgot the reckless adventure, the hard play and fast habits that had made his life, and thought to himself that the man whom Mabel Lee should love, and whom Mr. Sexton should make his heir, need ask no better fate. Cyril Harding was thinking the same thing, about the same time; but it was in a differ- ent way, and with the two conditions re~ versed. 45 page: 46-47[View Page 46-47] TAKING COUNSEL. 40 MAflEL LEE. Meanwhile, Mr. Ainslie was devoting himself to the amusement of Mr. Seyton and his two lady guests, and bringing those fascixjating qualities, for which everybody gave him credit, into such conspicuous re- lief; that even Constance was thoroughly charmed. Perhaps he knew this a's well as she did, for when the 'two elders began to complain of the ~'iver-mist1 and adjourned into the drawing-room, where Mr. Harding Was 'already sulking by himself; he asked her' to remain on the terrace awhile. '~ I will not detain you long," he said, as she assented, "though I really think they are mistaken about the mist.' Perhaps you may find it chilly, though. Shall I get you a shawl?" "Thank you, no. I do not think it at all chilly, but very delightful." "Yes, very delightful," he said, a little absently. Then, after a moment, he went on quite abruptly: "Miss Lee, I am about to ask and be guided by your advice, in a diffi- culty which is troubling m~; and, lest you should think that such a declaration sounds rather presumptuous, I shall begin by say- ing that it concerns your sister-partly, at least." "I am all attention," Constance an- swered, smiling slightly, for she could not imagine what this opening prefaced. "Any thing that concerns my sister interests me, of course. And even if not-well, I hardly think I should consider you presumptuous." "I am afraid you will consider me fool- ish, then," he said, "for in truth my diffi- oulty in' of my own making~.~.-an4 by no means great. Briefly, then, you may have heard that Mr. Sexton is anxious for me to paint a likeness of his goddaughter, and that Iconsented, or rather proposed to do so.', Yes, Constance said; she had heard it. "Well," Mi'. Ainslie went on, "the diffi- culty is simply this: will not the fulfilment of that promise cost your sister a great deal of annoyance? I am afraid she cannot cease to connect me with that unfortunate experiment, and the suffering it caused, so I scarcely feel as if I should be acting well- as if; indeed, I should have any right-to force myself upon her in the connection which this would necessitate. Yet I am very anxious to gratify :Nfr. Seyton, and to return in some sort his kindness. So it is simplycome to this: I cannot decide myself; and I am constrained to ask you to do so. You know your sister, and you know whether her prejudice is invincible, so you can best say whether or not I shall resign the attempt, or persevere." He paused, evidently waiting for her to speak; but Constance scarcely knew how to do so. She appreciated his difficulty, and felt sorry for him; but she could not say that she thought Mabel's prejudice likely to be overcome, or that the portrait-painting would not be a great trial to her. But there was Mr. Seyton to be considered, as well as Mr. Ainslie himself; in short, she felt what she had often felt before in more important matters, that the web of life has a great many threads, and that some of them are exceedingly difficult to manage. "Indeed, I am doubtful what I ought to say," she answered at length. "I might as well be frank with you, and acknowledge that you are not mistaken in thinking that * Mabel still associates you with the experi- ment which had such an unfortunate effect on her. But, further than that, I do not know. Whether or not this association will continue, I cannot say. But I am almost sure it will yield in time, and-and-" "You would counsel me to try?" "Yes; I would counsel you to try. *She is so gentle that she does not know what resentment is; and the vague terror which is connected with you now cannot surely last. At least this is my opinion, and it would be a great pity to disappoint Mr. Seyton." "Yes, it would be a great pity," he said, musingly. And then he was quite silent, and stood looking across the river toward the distant blue hills, the outlines of which melted into the soft summer gloaming. Constance watched him, scarcely under- standing the half-wistful expressing of his face; but thoroughly vexed with Mabel for the unreasonable prejudice ~nd caprice which had placed him in such a position. "Mr. Ainslie," she said at last, with a sudden impulse, "I really think you mag- nify the extent of Mabel's feeling-I at almost sure of it. I have never spoken t her on the subject, but I will do so, and-' "iNo," he interrupted quickly, "pra; don't attempt that. I would not like fo Miss Lee to put any compulsion on herself as far as I am concerned, and I believe tha is the only effect produced by remonstranc4 in such a case." "I have no intention of remonstrating,' Constance answered. "I only mean to asl Mabel which is right, you or I. If I an right, your difficulty is at an end, for sh will be very willing to gratify her godfather~ by sitting to you." "I hope so, for Mr. Seyton's sake," he said. And there the matter ended-at least between these two. But Constance called Mabel to account that night, and after infi- nite difficulty extorted a promise that she would submit to the ordeal. "But you have very little idea of how I dread it, or how I shrink from that man," Mabel said. "I'll do it, darling, if you say I must; but I scarcely think I can do it cor- dially." "Then you had better not do it at all," Constance answered, more shortly than she often spoke to Mabel. "If you behave un- graciously about it, you will only make the matter one of prolonged discomfort to Mi'. Ainslie; and he feels badly enough about your dislike and avoidance now. Mabel, it is not like you to act so unkindly and so un- reasonably." "Unkindly! unreasonably!" repeated Mabel, who was sitting ~Ialf undressed on the side of the bed, with her bright golden hair all about her like a cloud. "I-I never thought that any one could consider-in- deed, dear, I never thought at alL I have no dislike to Mr. Ainslie-when I am away from him. I feel toward him just as I might toward any other indifferent stranger. l~ut when I see him, and hear him talk, a repugnance comes over me which I could not control if my life depended upon it." "A repugnance of what sort?" can I tell? It is a 'desire to rush away from him at any cost, which makes me think that there must be more fear than a simple dislike in it. The very glance of his 0 eye seems to have an influence over me, like -like that night. Constance-" "Well, dear?" said Constance, who be- r gan to feel a little uneasy, as she saw how the pupils of Mabel's eyes dilated. t "He could do what he pleased with ~ me," said Mabel, in a half whisper. "That is what frightens me so. Constance, when- ever I am in his presence, I feel it coming over me-that awful powerlessness, which -"-but I cannot talk of it. Darling, I think I should go crazy, I really do, if I were much with him. Don't ask me to sit to him. I could not." Constance made no reply fur a moment. She was leaning against the toilet-table, looking at her sister very grhvely, and in truth much undecided about her next words. Francis I~Towell often warned Constance that Mabel was too much humored in the nervous fancies to which she was prone, and th&t a sterner course of treatment would be better for her health of mind. Big, on the other hand, the doctor's caution came back to her recollection, together ~v'ith a vague, shadowy fear that had always lain at her own heart-the fear of her father's fate. Judgment, however, inclined very much to Mr. ~1"Towell's theory, and when at last she spoke, it was with somewhat severe empha- sis. "Mabel, this is childish folly. I beghi to believe that Francis is right. You yield to fancies of this kind, until you grow mor- bid. If you once made a resolute effort to overcome them, you could do ik" "You think I could ever learn to toler- ate Mr. Ainslie?" "I am sure of it. Indeed, why not? He is a frank, pleasant gentleman, who is deeply wounded by your resentment; for, remember, it looks like resentment. Once more, I must say that it is not like you to act so." "Well, then, I will try and not act so any longer," said Mabel, with a ~i~ful light in her eyes, which her sister reuii~embered long afterward. "Dear, you must ~forgive my fancies. Perhaps Franci? is right in be- lieving thatI might conquer them by reso- lution. r will make a strong effort against page: 48-49[View Page 48-49] PLAIN SPEAKINO~ them to-morrow, for I will tell Mr. Ainslie that I will sit to him." CHAPTER IX. PLAIN SPEAKING. "I WILL certainly tell him to-morrow," had been Mabel's last words when she bade her sister good-night; and so it was her first waking sensation on that morrow, was one of the heavy weights with which we are all familiar when some disagreeable duty is to be performed. She opened her eyes with a start, as the first golden sunbeams slanted, through a half-closed blind, upon her face; and with the start came the recol- lection of this intangible something which was disagreeable. The next moment she knew what it was; she remembered that she~ had promised to tell Mr. Ainslie that she would sit to him, and dismay followed close uwn remembrance. "How can I ever do it?" she asked herself; and then she thought, "at all events, I must do it." Yes, she must do it. There was no question of that, but the certainty was enough to drive all further thought of, sleep from her. So she rose at once, and made her toilet. Then she threw open one of the windows and leaned out, drinking in the fresh beauty of the sparkling June morning, until a faint perfume of cigar-smoke, floating up from the terrace below, proved that some other member of the household had matutinal hab- its besides herself. She leaned over a little farther, and ascertained that this early riser was no other than the person of whom her thoughts were just then fall-Mr. Ainslie. Faithful to her instinct of dislike, she drew back. as soon as she recognized him. But th9n an impulse came suddenly upon her. Why not prove her new resolution, and the new strength of mind which she meant to practise, by going down to him, and getting oyer with the explanation at once? Poor Mabel! It was quite easy to ask the ques- tion, but very hard to answer it. She stood with her hands locked, pale, trembling, and altogether such a pitiful sight that, if Con- stance could only have seen her, she would never have urged, or even permitted, a sac- rifice at such a cost. There was some pow- er of self-discipline in the girlish nature, however, for, after a time, she took up her hat and resolutely tied it on, left the room, and, as if afraid her determination would fail, ran hastily down-stairs, and out of the house. Whatever were the subjects of Mr. Ains- lie's morning meditations, he certainly was as much astonished as a man could possibly be when in turning at the end of the ter- race, where he was pacing to and fro, he saw Mabel advancing toward him. He stopped for a moment in sheer surprise, then he took his cigar from his lips, lifted his hat, and came forward. "So the morning has tempted you out, also, Miss Lee," he said. "Is it not charm- ing.?" "Very charming," Mabel answered; and the feeling of repugnance rushed over her so strongly that she could scarcely refrain from instantaneous retreat. "But it was not the morning that brought me out," she went on, quickly. "I-I wanted to speak to you." "To me!" he repeated, and he could not help looking .a little surprised. "I am sure I need not say that I am very much honored and entirely at your service." "You are very kind," she said, and then she walked on, until she reached the balus- trade. There she stopped and turned, with a leok of resolution on her face which might have amused him at another time. "Mr. Ainslie," she said, simply, and yet with a great deal of dignity, "I think it is best to be frank about almost every thing. This is my excuse for speaking directly to yourself on a subject which you have never mentioned to me. My godfather told me, some time ago, that you had kindly offered to paint my likeness for him, and my sister told me last night that you hesitated to ask my permission to fulfil this promise, forfear of annoying me. Therefore I have come this morning to say that I appreciate your consideration in the matter very highly, but that I am quite willing to gratify my dear godfather, by sitting to you.'? The sweet, clear, girlish tones spoke every word distinctly, and then paused, or at least tolerate me, if you 'would only more as if she had said her say, and was try." over with it, than as if waiting 'for a reply. "I-I have tried," said Mabel, and she A reply came, however, quietly enough. looked like a penitent child in her distress "You are right, Miss Lee; frankness is and confusion. "I-indeed I wo4I will- always best; and I appreciate your candor ingly like you-if I could. But-" as it deserves. I am glad you have given "Well, but what?" me this reassurance, for I have hesitated "I cannot." greatly about fulfilling my promise to Mr. Mr. Ainslie smiled slightly. Seyton. Perhaps, indeed, you may be sur- "You say you have tried," he said; praised to hear that I hesitate yet." "but I really do not think you have-in She glanced up. the right way, that is. Now, shall I tell "Yes, I am surprised to hear it. Un- you my theory on the subject?" less you begin to think that you pledged "Ye-s," she answered, a little hesitat- your good-nature too far." ingly. "So far from that," he answered, " I "It is simply this: that you have asso- was never more anxious to fulfil a promise. cited me with that cursed-I beg your But I still think that I may be the means of pardon-that wretched mesmerism. N~ow, inflicting a very disagreeable annoyance if you will only forget it-if you would only upon you. Can you set my mind at rest, disconnect me from it-"' byhonestly affirming that such would not "But I cannot!" she repeated; and he be the case?" saw her shiver from head to foot, in the He looked steadfastly at her as he asked warm June sunshine. the question, and Mabel felt herself color "Pardon me," he said; "there is no such deeply, almost painfully, under his gaze. thing as 'cannot,' and I heartily wish there 5he had never felt the folly and unreason- was no such word. If you would only try abieness of her dislike more strongly than -if you would only let me try.-.-" at the present moment; but neither had He broke off abruptly and paused a mo- she ever felt the dislike itself more sensibly. m~lut before he resumed: How, theh, could she set his mind at rest, "Miss Lee, I am sure you think ins v'ery in the way he desired? Her silence and persistent, and perhaps I am harming' my embarrassment told Ainslie that it was im- cause, instead of helping it. But I have possible. He smiled slightly-a little sadly, one more proposal to make. You were as it seemed-when ho spoke again, kind enough to offer me permission to paint "I see you cannot do so. Well, pray do your likeness; and yet you are truthful not let the fact distress you. We can none enough to tell me that this compliance is of us control our affections and antipathies, painful to you. Now, if the matter only you know; the world might be a much bet- concerned myself, I should be a brute.to iw~ tcr world if we could. Tell me this, and I cept your sacrifice of inclination but will stop worrying you. Do you think concerns your godfather, and my word 'to there is any hope of my being able to over- him is pledged, I am ~onstrained to coin- come your prejudice?" promise as best I can. I will, therefore, Mabel looked at him steadfastly. take you at your word so far. I will. ask "I fear not," she said, gravely, you to give a week's course of sittings, and "But why not?" persisted he.; and he see if the ordeal proves as terrible as you tossed his cigar over the balustrade into the fancy it would be. At the end of that tbyi. river below, as he came nearer to her. you can decide whether or not they shall be "You must pardon my obstinacy, but I am continued. Does this suit you?" not accustomed to being disliked, and the "Yes," she answered, ashamed and pro- novelty is not to 'my taste. Indeed, I am a yoked that she could not speak more cam. good sort of fellow enough; quite harm- didly, and yefwhollyunable to do so. less, too, and I am sure you might like, it will suit very well, and-Mr. Ainslie__" 4 K48 MABEL LEE. I page: 50-51[View Page 50-51] 5r11' TIEE 50 JILADXdA "Well?" he said, smiling as she stopped, and seemed struggling with herself for a minute. He was an artist' by nature, and he was sure he had never seen any thing more lovely than she looked at that mo- ment-her lids downcast, her lips quiver-' ing, and the delicate color of her cheeks flushing more deeply every instant. "If I could only paint her so!" he thought to himself, and, as he thought it, she looked up at him with her frank, sweet eyes. "'I only want to~ say that I am very grateful for your kindness and courtesy," she murmured, hastily. "I know how dif- ferently some people would act, and-and I am deeply obliged to you. It makes me very much ashamed of myself at my want of reason; but I will try to struggle against the prejudice, the folly of which' I see so clearly. If I do not finally succeed in lik- ing you, it certainly will not be your fault, nor,' I hope, mine either." A sudden impulse, more of self-reproach than of any thing' else, made her hold out her hand as she concluded, and he bent down and touched his lips to it. Fortu- nately, he did not see the quick shudder that ran over her frame, or the look' on hex face as he did so, as he said, earnestly: "Not mine, at least." 'At breakfast every one was. rather si. lent,~for it was a settled thing that the Leer were to return home that morning, and Mr Seyion was very low-spirited, over the fact Of his own good-will he would have kepi them altogether, and thought it quite a hari case. that such a proceeding was not prac ticable. It did not satisfy" this unreason able ~man that his pretty Mabel was re moved from him only two short miles, an that he saw her every day; he wanted he' with him all the time-in his house, at hi aide, and, as her motherand sister were he' necessary appendages, he wanted them alse Indeed,' to secure Mabel, he would gladl~ have taken in, a regiment of mothers am sisters,' and ,tho~xght that life could offe him no higher privilege and greater pleas ure than to do so. 'Fate had not, howevw granted him this privilege, and pleasure, s he looked grave and dissatisfied, as he ss at'the foot of his pleasant breakfast-tabh while Mrs. Lee, who presided opposite, re- flected this discontent to the full. If Mr. Seyton wished her to remain permanently in his house, that desire was as nothing to her own regret that it was impossible for her to do so. It was the sort of position to which she was properly born, she thought; for Mrs. Lee had always been one of the people who fancy themselves entitled by right di- vine to the good gifts of Fortune, and i~esent, as an injury of the deepest dye, any adver- sity or misfortune. She had been well born and well reared, and possessed a not uncom- mon love of luxury, which made the stately appointments of the House very pleasant to her. She liked the grand rooms and lofty corridors, the silver plate and dainty china, the retinue of servants, to whom she needed only to say, "Do this," and it was done. Constance always said that it spoiled her mother to go to the House, and that she al- ways required several weeks to recover the effect of a prolonged visit. On the present occasion, Constance was in deep disgrace, for it was she and her tiresome pupils who were the cause of their leaving, when it * would have been so easy to spend a week or two longer on account of Mabel's health. "What would be the good, mamma?" Constance said, when this fact was quer- * ulously brought forward. "We have to go sooner or later, and why not now, as well as a week hence? For my part, I like a * disagreeable thing over." I "No doubt it is very easy to talk that I way," Mrs. Lee petulantly rejoined; "but - I don't see that there is any thing disagree- - able to you. Of course I have to suffer. - I always do-and Mabel, somewhat. -As I for you, however, I have no doubt you will r be delighted to get back to that horrid Ayre, 5 and your horrid teaching." r "It is better to be at work, if work is to be done," Constance replied, and that, was Y all that she said, for long experience had i taught her the utter fruitlessness of attempt- r ing to argue with her mother. She persist- ed in saying she must go, however, and, as ', her going meant going for all of them, Mrs. o Lee sat up at the breakfast-table that morn- Lt ing, and ate her muffins, like a martyr tied ~, to the stake. "I suffer, of course; but that . PLAIN SP~lAKING. 5i is what I always do," was written on her "I have not the least objection," said face. And, whenever she addressed Con- Mr. Seyton, "if Queen Mab has none." stance, it was in the tone of one who mag- Queen Mab blushed and smiled-a blush nanimously overlooks, but cannot quite for- and smile which indicated any thing but get, a deep grievance, objection. Meanwhile, Mr. Ainslie had somewhat "I am fond of boating myself, and still smoothed away the cloud from Mr. Seyton's more fond of Miss Lee's society," broke in brow, by telling him that Mabel had con- Mr. Harding, abruptly, to every one's sur- sented to sit for her portrait, and that he prise. "Now, it does not seem to me that would be ready to begin it whenever she my cousin Philip has a patent monopoly for felt sufficiently recovered to undergo the fa- either; therefore, if you please, sir, I shall tigue. "Since you gave a preference to oil- claim a right to take the boat for her, some- painting over miniature," he added, "it times, at least." will be necessary for me to fit up a studio "A right!" returned his cousin, before here, and in that ease Miss Lee will need to Mr~ Seyton could speak. "My dear fellow come to me, instead of my going to her." there is no such thing as a right in a matter "Yes," said Mr. Seyton; "of course it like this. Where a lady's favor is in ques- will be n~cessary.-Mab, my darling, do tion, a man has only one possible right- your hear that? When can you give Mr. that of offering service." Ainslie his first sitting?" "Well," said Mr. Harding, a little sharp- "To - morrow, godpapa, if mamma ly, "I offer mine, then-we have both of- agrees," answered Mabel, looking at her fered ours, in fact-and Miss Lee may choose mother. between them." "To-morrow will suit me as well as any "Miss Lee nee~l 'not, of necessity, do any other. day," said Mrs. Lee, in a tone which thing of the kind," said Mr. Conway, coolly. befitted her martyr rSle. "I spoke first. If there is any right in the "To-morrow, then, is settled," said Mr. matter, it is mine." Seyton, who was beaming with pleasure.. "Tut, tnt! " said Mr. Sexton, while Mr. "I shall have one of the rooms opening on A~nslie gave a slightly-amused laugh. the terrace fitted for a studio; and I sup- "There is, as ~rou said a moment ago, no pose you scarcely have an easel with you, right in question, save Mabel's right of Mr. Ainslie ~" choice. We won't force that on' her, how- "I regret to say not," Mr. Ainslie an- ever, for she might end by choosing neither swered. of you. So I will decide the matter by giv- "Ab, well, no matter. I have an excel- ing you leave to take the boat for her on lent carpenter who will make you one in no alternate days." time. Then how about canvas and paints?" "I must say-" Mr. Conway began, but "I obtained a supply of those in Ayre his uncle cut him short. the other day." "We won't say any more about it, Phil. "Ayre is improving. I did not know The matter is settled.-And now, Oscar, go that its tradespeople dealt in such Commod- and tell them to man the twelve-oar boat." ities.-Mab, I hope you will not disappoint This was the signal for separation, for us to-morrow. I shall send the boat after the tying on of. hats and veils, and finally you at ten o'clock." of departure, all four gentlemen accompany- "Very well, sir," said Mabel, who did ing the ladies to Ayre. It was quite early, not look enchanted at the prospect, but and by no means very warm, yet the shade drank her coffee in sober silence. of the, drooping trees was very pleasant, as- "I hope I may be allowed to take the they shot along past the ishind which Con- boat, if' you have no objection, sir?" said way told Maliel' always reminded him of the Conway. "I volunteer my services, for' isle that Hinda praised so eloquently to her~ boating duty, as long as the painting con-'. lover. He was sitting by her now, and, as tixiuss." they skirted the banks,'he said suddenly: page: 52-53[View Page 52-53] 62~ ' ZWJJAJJJ "What a charming fits 4iamp~tro could be given here 1" "Picnics here are very common,", said Mabel. - "I have been to them often.-Do you remember the last one, Constance?" "I remember you were sick after it, from th~ combined effect of thin shoes and damp ground, if that is what you mean." "I don't mean that. But you know we all agreed that dancing on the ground was vet~y disagreeable, aad in wishing that god- papa w6uld build a ballroom for us." "I never heard of it," said Mr. Seyton. "If you wished it, Mab, why did you not telluse so? But as for the good people of Ayre - well, they may build their own ballroom, I think." "ft was more they than I who wished it, godpapa," Mabel said, with a laugh; "though it would be pleasant, undoubtedly; for, although 'dancing on the greensward is ~'ery poetical in ideal, it is very tiresome in reality." ~' Suppose I give your promised inidaum- nier.night's ball there?" said Mr. Sexton, half jestingly. "It would be delightful!" she cried; while Philip Conway repeated curiously: "Midsummer-night's ball. What do you taean?" "I meaa Mabel's fits-day," Mr. Sexton answered, with a glance that effectually stopped i~urther inquiry. "Midsummer-day l~ hett'east, and so we always celebrate it witt du6 honor.-I promised you a ball this year, did I not, Mab?" "Pndoubtedly you did," said Mabel, promptly; "and I shall see that the prom- ise i~ fulfilled. Now, an island-ball would ho rapturous." '-Re ltwghed, and yet, despite thee laugh, his f4ce grew grave, for this midsummer.day fete had? it~ own significance. Nobody had? eve1~ uotieed or celebrated Mabel's birthday 4the.dtm~rWhich, besides being her birthday, .w~th~ annivereary of her father's death; and~thIs~~e5sit3t seemed so sad to Mr. Sey- tea, thiit,~ihei~ she was quite a little child, he inau~tirai±ed the custom of observing this othet~ da~ with till the cei~enioisie~ that usu- ally attend ~%rhat poets are fond of terming "the natal day." Presents were offered, MAWI. good wishes made, holiday festivities insti" buted, and such a gala air given the occa- sion, that, as time went on, Mabel positively began to count the years of her age fiom this date. She scarcely ever remembered that it was not in truth her birthday, and nobody cared to remind her of the fact. So, now that her eighteenth year was draw- ing to its close, she seemed as much as ever oblivious of it, and as much as ever deter- mined that her fits should make up her birthday shortcomings. "An island-ball would be rapturous, would it?" said Mr. Seyton. "But how could I build you a ballroom in such a short time?" "Oh! there is plenty of time, godpape, I am sure; and af4ts over there would be something quite unique-something differ- ent from a commonplace ~ball up at the House." "Something very uncomfortable, I am afraid," said Mr. Seyton. "Why so?" asked Conway. "It would be very easy to construct a pavilion for dancing, and then, with the undergrowth cleared away, and the trees hung with lamps, not to speak of a few arches and lire- works, a scenic effect might be obtained which would be very good.-Eh, Ralph?" "Very," said Mr. Ainslie. "I can fancy the lights gleaming over the water and the boats darting to and fro. It is a clever idea, Phil." "But a troublesome one," said Mr. Sey- ton. And with that the matter might have ended, if he had not looked up at the mo- ment and seen the expression on Mabel's face. It was only the youthful, wistful long- ing for a new pleasure; but it touched the h~iart that had never yet denied her any eu~ joyment which wealth or love could com- mand.. "Look here, my fine fellow," said he, turning to Conway, with a smile, "this is, indeed, a very clever idea of' yours. But are you willing to take the trouble of car- rying it 'out? Will you attend to the ar- 'rangertxents,~without bothering me about it, and furnish Blake with necessary plans and directions?" Philip Conway looked at Mabel, and he too, read aright the longing in her eyes. lie, too, felt that any exertion to gratify that longing would be well made. "Yes," he said, "I will undertake it with pleasure." "Then~" said Mr. Seyton, "I give you ~xsrte lilanche for its fulfilment, with only this understanding, that I am not to be troubled. Give Blake your orders, and lie will carry them out-that is, if Mabel is in earnest in preferring thathor ball should be here." "Indeed I am in earnest 1" cried Mabel, breathlessly. "It will be charming-it will be delightful. 0 godp~pa, how can I thank you enough?" "Thank Phil, not me," said Mr. Seyton, with a smile; and, before they finished dis- cussing and talking it over, the boat swung round at the foot of Mrs. Lee's garden, where there was a landing-place, and a flight of steps which led down to the Wa- I ter's edge. On these steps, at the present moment, Mr. Nowell was standing, ready to receive his aunt and cousins, but wifh an expres- sion the reverse of sunshine, when he saw t who was handing Mabel from the boat. It a did not mollify him in the l6ast that Mr. Sey- ton and his guests made their adieux after the fairer portion of the cargo was fairly o disembarked, and, promising to see them C soon again, pursued their way to the town, tI Miss Lee's residence being in the suburb nearest the House. "Francis, you arc not looking ~ is Constance said, after the first greetings were si 'over; "and you don't seem glad to see us, fa either. What is the matter?" "Nothing," answered Mr. Newell, a b little shortly. "And I suspect lam as glad gi to see you, Constance, as you are glad to get at back again. Mabel, in particular, looks overjoyed." te Mabel was standing at the head of the steps, swinging her parasol in-her hand, and wi gazing after the vanishing boat, as her cons- ta~ in spoke.. She heard him, however, end turned round with a smile. sh "Do I look overjoyed?" she asked. it. "Well, I'm uet exactly that; but I am very ho well pleased, Francis, I assure you. How wa p it A ly'? TPPPAI STna CP!Aunr w a -nor LEFo L ~ 58 pretty every thing is! and, though it has only been little more than a week since we went away, what a time it seems!" "A very charming tim~, iw doubt," said Mr. Newell, regarding her severely. "I thought time seemed short when it was charming," she returned~ "Come, I will not be scolded as soon as I return.. You may be sure of one~ thing, sir-~-nobody ever was cross at Seyton House; and, if you don't want to make me wish myself back there, you had better smooth your face. "I am not an airy gallant, like Mr. Phil- ip Conway, Mabel." "Mr. Philip Conway is not an airy gal- lant, as far as I am aware," Mabel retorted. "He's a very pleasant gentleman; - and if you will behave yourself; and look moder- ately interested, I will tell you what he is going to do for me." "Going to do for you I Pray u~hat right bas he to do any thing for you?" "He has the right of being 4~ery agree- ~ble and obliging," said Mabel, 'a little in~ lignantly. "He is going to build a pavil- on on the island for myfite; and we are o have arches, and fireworks, and dancing, nd a full band of music, and-every thing hat is delightful. Just think of it!" "Yes," said Mr. Newell, who did think fit, to his infinite disgust. "But is Mr. Jonway already master of Seyton House, ~at he can play the prince in this style 1" "No; of course not. It is godpapa who [yes me thef~te, but Mr. Conway has prom- ed to attend to it, and he has such exqui- te taste, that it is sure to be fit for the fries." "Such exquisite taste, has he I Any.. )dy has exquisite taste who undertakes to ~atify y~ur whims, I believe. Bnt if my nit allows this nonsense " "Mamma's delighted with the idea," in- rrupted:Mabel. "Then I hope she will also be delighted ith the colds and sore throats it will en- II." "You may be sure of one thing," cried e, "we;w~l n~t force anybody to come to You may stay iu Ayre, and read yo~ rrid law-books that very, night, if yoj~ ~iit to." page: 54-55[View Page 54-55] 54 ~1ABEL LEE. FORESHADOWI GB. 55 "The permission is scarcely necessary, Mabel." "NoU8 ~er~ono," she said, nodding her head, and then she went away to the house, vanishing 'down the long green walk that led direct from the river-side to the back piazza,~while Mr. Nowell turned to his cous- in, who had stood by in amused silence. "She is worse spoiled than 'ever, Con- stance," he said, as if the spoiling was all Constance's fault. "I am sure I don't see~ where it is to end." "It would end easily enough if you were kind instead of severe," Constance said. "Your constant censure does harm instead of good, Francis." "I know that nothing but indulgence does good in your eyes," he returned, as they walked 'on toward the house. Constance's few words had their weight, however, for he exerted himself to be more agreeable after he caine in, and did not even say any thing unpleasant when he heard of the portrait-painting, which was in itself a remarkable fact. CHAPTER X. F 0 ii E 5 H A D 0 w I N~G 5. "WzLL, Blake," said Mr. Sexton, "you have not told me yet what your decision is in the case of Conway 'V8. Harding," Two or three weeks had elapsed when the master of Seyton House addressed this half-imghing question to his faithful friend and steward. They were alone in the li- brary, and had been deep in business foi sonie time, until Mr. Seyton pushed aside impatiently the balance-sheet for which hE entertained such a disgust, and changed thE subject in this way. He looked at BlakE with a great deal of amusement in his eyes~ and scarcely understood the half-perplex& regard which Blake returned. "I take it you mean your nephews sir?" the latter said, after a pause. "~L'o be sure, I mean my nephews,~~ re plied Mr. Sexton, good-humoredly. "Wh( else. should I mean? Come, don't be stu pid-or obstinate, either! Confess yow prejudices and mistakes, and own up, like a good fellow, that you would rather burn the old house down, than see Cyril Harding master of it." "I'm no special friend of Mr. Harding's, sir," Blake answered; "but I could stand seeing him master as well as I could stand seeing anybody after you are gone. If it was Mr. Conway, now, you may be sure I'd rather put a torch to the old timbers." "So you are as obstinately set against him as ever "If you choose to put it in that wag, sir, yes-I'm as obstinately set against him as ever." "You used to be a reasonable man, Blake; if you are a reasonable man yet, you must have some ground for such a prejudice. What is it?" An awkward question that, for which Mr. Blake did not seem to possess any reply. He twisted a pen to and fro in his strong, brown fingers for some time, before he replied. Then it was quite abruptly: "I don't know that I could make you understand, sir, so perhaps we had better not talk of it. I gave my advice once, and you didn't take it; that's all. I have got no right to give it over again." "Not when I ask you?" "I'To, sir; not even when you ask me, if it will do no good." "That's as much as saying you have no reason to advance in support of it, then; for you know, if you 7&ad a reason, it would do good. If I have been deaf to you hereto- * fore, it was only because you had nothing * but prejudice to urge. Bring any thing else, and see if I do not pay attention to it." "I have nothing to bring, sir," said Blake, very doggedly-" nothing, that is, which you don't know yourself. You know what the captain was, and how the captain ended; and you might know, too, that the son is following exactly in the father's steps. So, if you choose to set aside these things, I have nothing else to bring." "Stop a moment," said Mr. Sexton. "Tell me what you mean by 'following ex- actly in the father's steps?"' "What should I mean, sir, only that just what the captain was when he cnme here first, Mr. Philip is now. The captain could talk of nothing but horses and races and billiards, and neither can Mr. Philip; the captain knew every jockey and gambler in the country, and so does Mr. Philip; the captain had never any thing but a sneer for any good man or any decent woman, and neither has Mr. Philip; the captain carried off a sweet lady, to her own misery and ruin, and so is Mr. Philip about to do." "What do you mean?" demanded Mr. Seyton, sharply, on whom this climax came like a thunder-clap. Mr. Blake looked at him in surprise. "Surely you know what I mean, sir; although, perhaps, it was not my place to mention it," he said. "Do you mean any thing about my god- daughter ?~" "I mean only this, sir: that day after day I meet Miss Mabel and Mr. Conway walking, or riding, or boating together, and I have begun to think that the county must be right when it says that your heir will also be her husband." "Does the county say that?" "It has said it a long while, sir." "But it' is not true. You know it is not true." "Ho~v can I know it, sir? Miss Mabel is an angel of beauty and goodness-but she's a woman, after all. And as to what Mr. Philip Conway is, you're only to re- member what the capital was when he car- ried off Miss Adela." "But it is impossible! "cried Mr. Seyton, who had grown very pale within the last few minutes-" it's impossible, I tell you. Mabel would not dream of such a thing- and her mother-her sister-pshaw! It is absurd." "Humph!" said Mr. Blake, dryly. "Do young ladies usually ask the permission of their mothers and sisters, before they fall in love? I beg your pardon, sir, if I am speaking too freely, but it seems to me you might have expected this." "Expected it!" repeated Mr. Seyton, with something of a gasp, and then he got up and walked disturbedly to and fro. "You are wrong, Blake; you're totally wrong," he said at last. "I am sure of * that. But, if you should be right, how shall I ever forgive myself?" It was on the end of Blake's tongue to say, "I warned you, sir,", but he forbore. If what he feared was true, Mr. Sexton's self-reproaches would need no point from him. If not-but, alas! how little could either of them discern that darker future which was to come, and which would make even this fear seem in the retrospect a blessed hope! "I believe we have finished with this business to-day," said Mr. Sexton, coming abruptly to the table, and putting the ac- counts away. "If you will ride over to- morrow, I will try and look at the rest.- By-the-way, how does the pavilion come on?" "Tolerably only, sir. Mr. Conway gives so many orders, and is so contradictory about them," "Well, well, it will all come right, I dare say," interrupted Mr. Seyton, absently. ~"You must excuse me if I leave you now." "Yes, sir, certainly. Indeed, I'm just going. "Good-morning, then." "Good-morning, sir." They shook hands, and Mr. Seyton left the room by one door, while Mr. Blake went out of another, which opened on a side piazza. The bright, warm noonday was somewhat dazzling after the subdued gloom of the library, and he pulled his hat soi~w over his brow that, as he went down the steps, he did not see Cyril Harding, who was ascending them, until they came face to face. Now, notwithstanding~the warmth with which Mr. Blake espoused this gentleman's cause, in his inmost heart he entertained no sort of fancy for him. It was a matter of choosing between two evils with him, and as Cyril Harding was, in his eyes, an in- finitely less evil than Philip Conway, he did battle manfully in his service. But, for all that, his regard for him was, scarcely more cordial than that of Mi~. Seyton. So he greeted him rather stiffly, and was by no means pleased that Mr. Harding chose to turn and 'accompany him to the front of the house,' where his horse was waiting. page: 56-57[View Page 56-57] 56 MABEL LEE. FORESHADOWING. "How does the pavilion come on, Mr. t3lake ~" inquired this gentleman, repeating Mr. Sexton's question in a patronizing tone, which made Mr. Blake feel very savage in his inmost heart. "The 21st is very near at hand. I suppose you will surely com- plete it goon?" "I suppose so too, sir," said Mr. Blake, "if Mr.Conway will know his own mind. It is very hard on the workmen, this hav- ing to tear down and put up continually, and Mr. Conway changes his plans every day or tivo." "The last thing I heard of was the diffi- culty about Tonic columns," said Mr. Hard- ing. "What is he after now?" "The Lord only knows. Some hea- thenish roof or other, that nobody ever saw the like of~ as far as I know. I went there yesterday, and the carpenters were all at a stand-still over it, while Mr. Conway wa~s not to be found high or low." "That's no uncommon thing," said Mr. Harding, with a grim sort of smile. "Mr. Conway rarely ~8 to be found, excepting when Miss Lee is at the House. I hope my uncle is pleased at the prospect of the alli- ance pending in that direction, Mr.. Blake?" "I am sure I cannot say, sir," replied Mr. Blake, who had no idea of being sub- jected to a pumping-process for Mr. Hard- ing's benefit. "I scarcely feel able to congratulate Miss Lee on her prospects of happiness," pursued the latter, who was evidently smarting from some fancied injury or re- pulse. "My cousin Philip's character is notorious; and, if my uncle is not aware of it, I think-I really think-that it is the duty of some friend to enlighten him." "I wonder that you do not take that duty upon yourself," said Mr. Blake, who every moment liked Mr. Harding less. "There are motives of delicacy," said Mr. Harding, solemnly. "Otherwise-but I am sure you understand. It is impossible for me to do it-quite impossible. Now, yota, Blake-" "Excuse me, sir," interrupted Mr. Blake, shortly-" I ~havo no talent for tale~bear~ ing, even when I am able to vouch for the tales myself. Mr. Conway's habits do not concern me ;-nor, perhaps, Mr. Sexton, either. "Why?" asked Mr.. Harding, eagerly. "You think my uncle not likely to-to-. make him his heir?" "As for that, I am unable to hazard an opinion," answered the other, stiffly; "but I only know this, sir, Mr. Sexton is able to look after his own interests, and, if he can- not find an heir to suit him, he will, like as not, cut the matter short by leaving the property to Mien Mahel Lee. Good morn- lug, sir. "But, good Heavens! The entail! He dare not-" began the astonished Harding. But Mr. Blake was gone. He had mounted Brown Jerry as he uttered the last words, and he was now riding away at a sharp trot. "A precious pair," he mut- tered between his teeth, for he was in more of a fume than he would have liked to ac- knowledge - "a precious pair to choose between! No wonder the master can't make up his mind, when he has to take, a chanting prig like this, or a gambling adven- turer like the other. I'm glad I gave him that last shot. He'll not forget it soon, and, if it does nothing else, it'll make him uncomfortable." Meanwhile, Mr. Scyton had gone to the room which was fitted up as a studio for Ainslie. It was a very pleasant apartment connecting with the drawing-room suite, and opening, like the library, on the ter- race; but lacking sufficient light to make it a good painting-room. The artist had obvi- ated this as well as he could, by placing his easel in the broadest glow of an uncurtained window; but, even with this arrangement, he found that he could do no work after mid-day. The light changed then in the most exasperating manner; so, necessarily, all of Mabel's sittings were in the morning. It was morning now, and she was on duty, draped about with a blue scarf of son~e light material, while her mother sat cro~ cheating in one of the open windows, and Conway amused himself by playing critic- in.'chief. Ha was standing behind his frisnd, and sn animated discussion had for some time been goingon between them. "I maintain that the spirit of the thing is all wrono"' Conway was saying. "Y( may talk about exactness of feature ai clearness of tint as much as you pleas Ralph; but expression is, after all, tI main point, and there you have failed e tirely. You may not believe it, for you a wonderfully set up in your own opinion, bi it is a fact, nevertheless." "I don't know that I am set up in m own opinion," said Ainslie, painting awa very coolly, "but you are not infallible I'hil, in art, any more than in any thin else. I don't agree with you; I think I hay caught Miss Lee's expression perfectly." "What! that woe-begone face and mar tyr-like nose? It might serve as a concept tion. of Iphigenia, but for her-my dear fel low, you must be blind. Now, if I had beci in your place, I should have painted her ac cording to one's idea of Titania- 'With childhood's starry graces lingering yet, r the rosy orient of young womanhood."' "I paint her as she seems to me," an swerved the other, retreating a step or twc back from his canvas. "If ever I san Miss Lee's face in my life, I see it there,' he went on; "and as for the expression- you don't know what you are talking about, Phil. That expression is, above all others, the one which is most natural to her face." "I know better," returned the other, ob- stinately. "I have eyes, and they are as good eyes as yours, though I can't put down their expression in red and white.-Will you come and see which of us is right, Miss Ma- bel?" But Miss Mabel only smiled and shook her bead. "I should not know," she said. "No- body can judge of her own likeness-and, besides, I should get out of position." "Mrs. Lee, will you come?" asked the injured artist, turning to his only other witness, for Mr. Seyton had not yet ap- peared. "Will you come and say who is right?" Mrs. Lee came, rather reluctantly, for she knew as much of art as if she had been reared amollg the Xaffre; and looked at the. picture from a safe distance, with head a little on one side. )u "It is like Mabel," she said, "wender- id fully like her. I don't see how yomt ever e, managed it so well, Mr. Ainslie. The 'hair me is hers exactly, and the color in her cheeks a- is as like as life. Then the eyes-" .e "My dear madam, how about the cx.. it pressing?" interrupted Ainslie. "Do you think it is too pensive, too sad?" y "It is very sad," said Mrs. Lee, doubt- y fully. "But I have often seen Mabel look ~, just that way, especially when she was g asleep." e "And it is said that the face always as- sumes the natural expression in sleep," said Ainslie, looking triumphantly at Conway'. -"I hope you are satisfied now, Phil." - "Not at all," returned the other. i "Here's my uncle; we'll refer the matter - to him. You are just in time, sir, to decide an important.jjuestion between Ainslie and myself-no less a questioum than whether Miss Mabel is to appear on hi~ canvas as a type of all the despairing maidens who ever - looked unutterable woe since the beginning of the world, or whether she is to be her own bright self. For my part," continued he, with emphasis, "I hate woc-begone faces, and I don't 'know any class of people bhave less sympathy with than the class of Mariannas in their moated granges." "I am perfectly willing that you should judge between us," said the artist, address- ing his host; and he moved aside, to surren- der the best stand-point. Mr. Seyton uttered an exclamation whezi he came in front of the painting; and then stood still for some minutes, regarding it silently. It was a singularly beautiful con- ception, and, apart from all question of like.. ness, one whIch proved the artistic power and artistic culture of the hand that had produced it. Yet it was very simple. Only a half-length, and painted without back- ground or accessories, or any of the ordi- nary surroundings of a portrait. Instead of these, the canvas was covered with fleecy white clouds, out of which Mabel'sface shone like a star-her blue mantle thrown lightly over her head inahood-like fashion, f*tstened at the throat by a single golden clasp, and falling all around her, so that the waving outlines of the figure could only be dinal.y page: 58-59[View Page 58-59] 58 MABEL LEE-. perceived beneath its folds. The effect was exquisite. The golden hair, half waved, half curled round the broad, white, child- like brow, and then was plainly put back behind the ears, while the eyes, "like wood- land violets newly wet," looked forth with that sweet sad regard which all her life long had distinguished them. Instead of this ex- pression being confined to the eyes, the ar- tist had caused it to pervade the whole face, until every feature was tinged with the same subtle melancholy; and even her lips~ in place of wearing their accustomed smile, were closed with a grave pathos, and the hands lightly clasped together over the breast increased the resemblance, which al- most any one would have remarked at first sight, to the Madonnas of the Italian school -to the sweet divine grace of the star- crowned Queen~of Heaven, as it shines upon us from the canvas of those great masters wh~ were of purer faith, as well as of greater genius, than any who have trod in the footsteps which they made immortal. It was Mabel Lee, but Mabel Lee ethereal- ized into a beauty deeper than the mere beauty of flesh and blood; it was Mabel Lee shining out of her clouds and her azure drapery like a vision of some tender virgin saint, as we picture it to ourselves, some loving, pitiful heart, that is smitten by the sin and suffering of earth, and whose sadness is for the fettered lives and sordid spirits of others, rather than for the self that has learned a~l wisdom, all science, all knowl- edge, human and divine, in two words- "Surau)n corda." * Whether Mr. Seyton saw all of this or not, nobody could tell; but he was silent a long time. Then he spoke without looking round. "It is exquisite, Mr. Ainslie, far more beautiful even than I had expected. Did 3rou ask me for my opinion? I have noth- ing to offer but admiration." "I asked for your opinion, sir," said Conway. "I begged to know if you do not agree with me that, however beautiful it may be, it is a false conception of Miss Mabel's face." * "It looks like a saint or a Madonna," said Mr. Seyton, smiling; "but I cannot find fault with that, Phil. I:hava s~e'i t~l~at expression on Mabel's face very~ oftan, I saw it this morning in church." * "And I saw it the first time I ever ~w her," said Ainslie. "I have painted ac~ cording to my light. If it don't suW you, Phil, you will have to paint 4ne for your7 self." "I should paint a woman and not a saint, then," returned Conway, impatiently. *" There may be too much of a good thing, Ralph. Miss Mabel* has quite as many angelic attributes at present as she has any need of." "I work according to my inspiration," repeated Ainslie. Whereuponhe went back to his canvas, and began touching, with light, sweeping strokes, the folds of the blue~ mantle. He painted steadily for some time; and they were all quite silent-Mr. Seyton's ad- vent, and the cloud he unconsciously brought along with him, having put an end to the pleasant flow of talk and laughter which had been going on previously to his en- trance. For perhaps it was Philip Con- way's invariable presence in the studio, per- haps it was the fact that Mr. Ainslie decid- edly improved on acquaintance, or perhaps it was only the pleasant occupation of knowing that her features were coming out one by one under the artist's brush, but Mabel had become quite reconciled to the sittings; and, although the portrait had al- ready been in progress some time, and was yet far from completion, she had never been heard to express impatience or wonder concerning the delay. "I think Ralph dallies over it, because he means to go as soon as it is finished," Philip Conway once exclaimed. And yet the explanation was scarcely necessary, for nobody concerned (excepting Mr. Nowell, and he could hardly be said to be con- cerned) found fault with this procrastina- tion-Mr. Sexton least of all. He cordially liked his guest, was glad of any excuse to detain him, and would have submitted uncomplainingly to almost any privation which brought Mabel to the house every day. Mr. Ainslie had painted for about half FORESHA tw1i~utyaud, tired of the dulness which had settled eyer~them, Philip Conway had saun- tered a~ay, when the former suddenly glanw4~ ropnaN and saw that Mabel was 1~okiii~ tired. at~on~t let me detain you any longer, Miss Lee," he said, kindly. "I shall not need you again to-day; and, although your patience is perfect, I should not like to tax i1~ too far." "You never do, Mr. Ainslie," answered Mabel, rising. "It i~ my fault, not yours, that I have grown n little weary to-day. Mamma, I am ready." "But you will wait for luncheon," said Mr. Seyton, throwing aside the paper he had taken up. "1N9,"jsaid Mrs. Lee, a little plaintively. "I am sorry I cannot. Did you say you were ready, Mabel? We must go, Mr. Sey- ton, for the Boyds are to dine with me to- day; and, although I don't consider them company, still-" "Still we must go," said Mabel, decid~ edly. And she put on her hat. "I think I shall accompany you home," said Mr. Seyton, rising as he spoke. "These young men have had quite a monopoly of your society lately; and everybody knows that turn about is only fair play.-Toll Phil so, if he comes, Mr. Ainslie," he added, nod- ding carelessly to that gentleman. "There is really no necessity, Mr. Sey- ton," began Mrs. Lee; but Mr. Seyton in- terrupted her in his courtly way. "You won't deny me the pleasure, I am sure, my dear madam.-Mab, you can dis- pense with a young gallant for once, can you not? Besides, I want to stop at the island and see for myself how the prepara- tions come on. Are you ready?" With a briglit smile Mabel assented, and her godfather was more than pleased to see that there was not even a shade of disap- pointment on her face. "It was all an idea t of Blake's," he thought. And the relief con- t sequent upon feeling this was so great that he attended the two ladies down to the boat t in even more than his usual spirits. The reverse was strikingly the case with a Philip Conway, however, when he entered o the studio half an hour later, and found no- 'tJ DOWINGS. 59 *body but Ainslie, who was still hard at work. "Where are they all? Where's ~fiss Lee?" he asked, quickly. "Surely they have not gone home without me?" "That is exactly what they have done," said his friend, coolly. "You ought to have stayed, mon ami, if you wanted to look after your interests." "But how was I to fancy they would treat me this way? And you-you might have let me know, Ralph." "There was nothing to let you know," the other answered, with a shrug. "V~tre onclo interfered, and carried them off, much against the fair Mabel's wishes, I imagine. He bade me tell you that turn about is fair play, if that is any consolation to you." "My uncle," repeated Philip Conway. "The deuce! What does that mean, I wonder? Do you know I fancied that he looked rather-rather queer, when he came in a while ago?" "He looked rather out of sorts; but what of that?" "Only that he may have been hearing some pleasant story or other about my many virtues and good deeds; and that, per cbnsequence, he thinks it a measure of pre- caution to guard his pet lamb from such a wolf." "A guilty conscience-you know the rest," said Mr. Ainslie, giving a dash of paint on Mabel's golden locks. "Don't bo ~bsurd, Phil. Who would ho have heard my thing from?" "My precious cousin for one." "BahI he would not dare to speak, for ~iis own sake." "That obstinate old Blake for another." "And how would he know any, thing?" "He is keen enough, and prejudiced ~nough, to ferret out every ugly story that ~ver was afloat against me, and how many here are, and have beep, I don't need to ell you." "hTo," said Ainslie, dryly. "But I can ell yon that you make a great mistake in thinking your uncle would listen to any gos.- ip of the sort. He is a gentleman of the ld school, and so thoroughly imbued with he nobleBse-oklif/e theory that to do~'auy page: 60-61[View Page 60-61] 60 IIABEL L1~E. "IN A QONDOLA." thing underhand would be an impossibility to him. Besides, are you so much set upon this inheritance that you should fly off at a tangent because he' happens to look a little grave? That's rather a change from your old philosophy." "Yes~"said Conway, absently. He threw himself back in the chair where Mabel had been sitting, and there was silence in the room for several minutes, for Ain~lie painted steadily on and waited for the other to speak, which the other did not do for some time. ~" The devil's in it," he said at last, ab- ruptly. "You'd scarcely think it, Ralph, but the devil certainly must be in it. You are right about my old philosophy, and it was a very genuine philosophy too. I scarcely eared a cent about the Seyton in- heritance during~cll these years, or, indeed, when I came here. But now-I wonder if it c~u be that fellow, Harding, who has in- feeted. me with his own overwhelming de- sire, or if it is simply the wish to win the race against him?" Mr. Ainslie looked at him with a sort of dry, sarcastic smile. " So that's all you know about it?" he said. "My good fellow, the secret of the ~natter is neither the Harding rivalry nor your own uewly-cThveloped mercenary spirit; but simply and solely-this." He pointed his brush at Mabel Lee's face. "Perhaps you are right," answered the other, nowise discomposed or taken aback. "The master of Seyton House might afford to indulge himself in the luxury of a wife, pretty, charming, and penniless. But, for a poor devil like me, it would be unqualified madness, you know." "So: you are conducting your love-affair bn the prospects of heirship?" "I'm not conducting a love-affair at all; I'm not such a fooL You might as well talk to ~'& starving man of eating turtle and drinking tokay. I am simply living in the hour." "It is tobe hQped that Miss Lee is doing th~ same."' At these words a dark cloud came over Ctrnway's face. "That's the misgiving I have myself," he said. "Sometimes-just now, ~for in- stance-I feel as if I were acting like a scoundrel. But what can I do? If I go away, I leave this d-d fellow, Harding, in possession of the field, and so throw aw~iy my only chance of fortune; while, as long as I stay-" The pretty fooling is bound to go on, said his friend philosophically. "Yes, I see that. But look here, Phil, does it never strike you that perhaps your best chance of the fortune would be to secure the fair Ma- bel at once? Her godfather could hardly steel his heart against the future husband; or (if you are bent on a bold coup) the pres- ent husband of his pet." "I said a moment ago that I felt like a scoundrel," answered Conway, shortly- "but I have no mind to be one, Ralph. Now, I should call that scoundrelism of the deepest dye. I don't pretend to indifference on the sul~ject of the heirship; I do want it; and I don't pretend to love Mabel Lee like a paladin, or like any thing else hut an ordinary man; hut I love her well enough not to use her as a stepping-stone to fortune." "Ab, I see; you've turned Quixote by way of variety." "Devil a bit of it, as you know perfectly well. But a. man is not necessarily a scoun- drel because he is an adventurer. I leave the first to my distinguished cousin." "What do you mean?" "Nothing, except that I doubt if he would consider means very much where Seyton House was at stake." "You had better look out, then." "I had better not pay him any such compliment. Let him do his best, or-his worst. If there is any thing that I can resent openly, you may he sure that I will do so; but if not-you would scarcely advise me to play the spy." "The matter stands thus, then," said Mr. Ainslie, throwing a cloth over his easel, preparatory to leaving it,, and dropping the subject of Mr. Harding very abruptly, "If you are lucky enough to be chosen hy your uncle as his heir, you wifl offer yourself to Miss Lee; if not-" "I shall go back to the old life, iirnl leave her to my cousin Cyril," answered the other, rising. "'To him that hath shal he given,' you know. It is not often quote a text; but constant Harding associa tion must tell, I suppose. Come away now and let us row over to the island. The~ send me word the very deuce is to pay ove there." CUAPT1~R XI. ~~LK A GONDOLA.~7 'Thu very deuce may have been to pay at the ishind; but at least the question of payment did not trouble Mr. Conway long. That very afternoon his skit? swung round to its moo$ng at the foot of Mrs. Lee's gar. den; and, five minutes later, he stood at the door of a pretty rose and clematis arbor, within which a small table and some chairs were placed, and where Constance and Mabel generally sat after the mid-day heat abated. They were sitting there now, and both of them looked up with a smile of welcome as he made his appearance, for it had come to pass; without any one exactly knowing how, that he filled quite an intimate posi- tion in the Lee household. Why, it would be hard to say, excepting that he, and the like of him, generally obtain more than their due portion of woman's favor and sym- pathy, for both of which some plainer and more honest fellow goes begging. It will be remembered, however, that Mabel had been his advocate before she ever saw him, and inthis she did little more than echo the family opinion, for Mrs. Lee had once been intimate with Mrs. Conway, when that lady was Miss Seyton, and she did not forget this any more than she forgot the charming manners and distinguished appearance of that unfortunate gentleman whom Mr. Blake styled "the captain," and never mentioned without a grim sort of disap- proval. Like many of her sex, Mrs. Lee was decidedly liberal to the failings of other women's husbands, and could not conceive that the trifling matter of being a spend- thrift and adventurer, and next thing to ii swindirr, could possibly overbalance the handsomest face and most perfect manner I ~l she had ever seen~ so her tone concerning I Captain Conway was invariably one of miii- gled pity-as for a hero unjustly maligned -and exalted admiration. "The most fas- cinating person in the world," she. would say. "0 my dears, if you had only seen him! It is true, you see Mr. Conway; but I assure you he is only a faint reflection of his father. Very charming, I grant you, and'~very much of an improvement on the young men of the day. But not to be com~ pared, oh, not at all to be compared to the captain." "I hope he is an improvement - on the captain, as well as on the young men of the day, in some respects," Constance would answer, gravely, at which Mrs. Lee always gave a little cry of expostulation. "For shame, my dear! You have been hearing some of these horrid stories about him. I assure you, and I know all about it~ that there was not a word. of truth in them4 No one could have known Captain Conwt~y, and believed them, Constance." "Yes, mamma," Constance would answer absent~ ly; for she was wondering the while if her own partiality for Philip the Second rested as entirely on the foundation of his mere personal fascinations, as did that of her riiother foi' Philip the First. "I hope I like him for himself-I hope I am no~ mistaken in liking him; I really believe he, has good qualities, under all his recklessness and care- lessness," she thought earnestly, more ear- nestly than she would have liked to ac- knowledge. as she saw Mabel's eloquent ey~es and flushing cheeks; for Mabel rarely spoke in these discussions, save by her eyes and cheeks; yet nobody ever seemed to doubt that she too was a firm Conway par- tisan. "Ladies fair," said the much-canvassed gentleman, as he paused before them, framed in the door of the arbor, and looking like a young cavalier, with the flickering sunlight falling in patches on his black curls and graceful' figure-" who is ready. for a row? My boat is on the shore, and the river is smooth as glass. Miss Lee, I am sure Misi Mabel will come; can I not 'for once' tempt you also?" Constance looked up from her~sewi~g.~-. she was always busy-with a smile. page: 62-63[View Page 62-63] MABEL LEE. "IN A GONDOLA." "You are very kind, Mr. Conway, but I am afraid my answer must be the invariable no. I would like to go very much, but-" "But what? " askcd Mabel, as she paused. "Really, dear, I see no earthly reason why you should not go this evening. That work can very well wait, and there are no cakes to make for tea, nor any thing else, that I know of." "Pray, Miss Lee, think again," said Conway; and it was the highest possible* compliment to Constance's sweetness and charms, that he was perfectly sincere in the request. "I want to take you both over to the island, and ask your advice about the pavilion, which threatens to prove a failure. I am afraid my first essay as an architect is by no means a success. Ainslie laughs at it, and says nothing fit to be seen will ever come of it; but I think he may be mistaken, and I want your advice." "You want us to agree with you, that is," said Constance, smiling again. "Well, I will come, if you think me worth waiting for a little while. I must see Nancy first." "We think you worth waiting for any time at all," he answered, as he moved aside to let her pass. "I Won't be long," she said, as she van- ished from sight; but, if she had only known it, there was no question of the length or shortness of time with the two she had left behind her. Hours were scarcely counted in the garden of Eden; and once, at least, in life, we all of us wander in that blessed place. Yet to the profane ears of outsiders their conversation might have seemed very commonplace, after all, being only this: "I see you have been reading," said Conway, advancing into the arbor, and tak- ing Constance's vacant chair. "What is it? Ah, my Browning, is it not?" "Yes," answered Mabel, with a blush and & smile, that always went together when she spoke to him. "It is your Brown- ing, though I can scarcely say that I have been reading it. The fact is, Mr. Conway, I-I'm afraid I'm very stupid; but I don'1 understand it." "You are not necessarily stupid on thai account, I assure you," said Conway, with laugh. "A great many wise people fail ts comprehend Mr. Browning. He is a new* poet, with a new style, which I confess I do not like, though Ainslie raves over it. Some of the beauties don't lie too deep for com- prehension, though, and it was these I rec- ommended to you." ~tYes, I know, and I have enjoyed them very much. You see it is the Dramatic Lyrics I have here. I tried 'Sordello' this morning, but-" "But you came to grief shortly? No wonder. I pity you sincerely if you even tried it. I wish you could hear Ainslie read some of these," he added, as he took up the volume. "His elocution is perfect; and I cannot imagine a more difficult test than this wonderfully involuted metre. You would scarcely believe it, perhaps, but he absolutely brings out the sense sometimes." "Does he? Then I should like to hear him. But you, Mr. Conway-I am sure you also read well." "Why do you suppose so?" She gave a little laugh. "I can scarcely tell, excepting that your voice is very musical. Let me hear whether I am right or wrong. Read something." "Read what?" "Whatever the page is open on." He smiled. "To hear is to obey," he said. And then he began those quick, ringing verses: ~ You know we French stormed Ratisbon; A mile or two away, On a little mound Napoleon Stood on our storming day." He read well, certainly; with very per- fect taste and just emphasis; but Mabel be- gan to feel a little disappointed, and fancy she had, after all, mistaken the capability of expression in the voice, the depths of passion and energy which she had expected to find there, when he came to the last verse: "The chief's eye flashed; hut presently Softened ltseg as sheathes A film the mother.eagle's eye When her bruised eaglet breathes. 'You're wounded I' 'Nay,' his sol4ler's pride, Touched to the quick, he saki: 'in killed, sire!' And his chief bealde, Smiling the boy fell dead~' Then, with a sharp thrill that went through and through her, and with the hot tears which rushed to her eyes, she felt that she had n~t~ been wrong; for never was the spirit of a poet better caught or better rendered than Philip Conway had caught and rendered this. The emperor's tone of warm yet careless sympathy, and the proud, calm answer of the boy, who a moment before had spoken with such gay daring, the boy at whom "You look twice ere you saw his breast Was all but shot in two." But, by this time, and before she could express approbation in words, Constance, who had concluded her interview with Nan- cy, came back to them. "If we are going to the island, we had better start," she said. "It is quite late." They s~t out at once. It did not take them long to reach their destination, for Conway used the oars as well as a profes- sional boatman, and pulled against the cur- rent with such hearty good-will, that his keel soon grated on the island sand. A ne- gro who was standing by made fast the boat to a small upright stake, and then Con.- way sprang out. "I suppose the men are at work yet," he said to the idler. "Are you not one of them? What are you about here?" "No, sir, I'm not one of them," an- swered the boy, a little sullenly. "I waits on Mr. Blake, sir, and I rowed him over." "What! is Mr. Blake here?" "Yes, sir. You'll lind him where the work's going on." ''I haven't the least desire to find him,~~ muttered Conway between his teeth, as he turned to assist the two ladies ashore. "You see we've been clearing already," he said, while they walked up a gentle as- cent toward the pavilion. "These arcades will be very beautiful, I think, when they are well lighted up." "They are very beautiful now," said Constance, glancing down the paths which opened among the undergrowth to the right and left. "What exquisite views !-Look, Mabel, at that one." "Ah, how pretty!" said Mabel; and she stood still to admire the vista that opened before her-a vista lined with green, ~ and giving a panoramic view of the blue water, the wooded shore, and the distant hills. "But come this way," said her escort. "Now, here-I mean this to be the scenic effect, .par excellence, of the evening. Im- agine that unsightly mass of lumber yonder transformed into a pavilion all ablaze with light; imagine every tree bordering this avenue hung with lamps-archways span- ning it at intervals; then tell me what you think of it." "I think it will be like fairy-land!" cried Mabel, clasping her hands; for he had drawn her into a long, straight avenue, which led directly from end to end of the island, and in the middle of which the un- sightly mass of lumber, that was to be trans- formed into a pavilion, stood. At least he assured her that it stood there, and that the effect would be the sante if it were ap- proached on either side. But, from their stand-point, she could scarcely believe it did not end the vista. "It would be like fairy-land," she repeated. "And, 0 Mr. Conway, how could you slander your pa- vilion so? I think it is beautiful.-Don't you, Constance?" "I think it looks very pretty from here," said Constance; "but a mud-cabin would do that, I expect. Mr. Conway, are *e not to see it any nearer?" "Undoubtedly," said Mr. Conway, with a laugh. "You are to examine it as closely, and give youropinion of it as frankly, as you please.-This way, Miss Mabel. Take care -those trilling fellows have left a great deal of brushwood lying about. You had better take my arm." Mabel took the arm-she would have been apt to take a scorpion if he had offered it to her-and before long they made their appearance on the open space around the pavilion, where the usual carpentering pounds of sawing, planing, and hammering, tvere going on, and where Mr. Blake stood, in the midst of the d~ri8, looking very lrim. He touched his hat when he saw the adies; but even Mabel's bright smile could iot tempt him to relax his face. Indeed, he lid not look at her at all, but directed his attention straight to Philip Conway. MABEL LEE. page: 64-65[View Page 64-65] "IN A GONDOLA." "I hear you've been giving fresh orders, sir," he said, "and I find the men consider- ably bothered about them. It would save trouble and time, sir, if you would speak to me in the first place, for 1 might be able to tell' you beforehand what can be done and what cannot." "I only gave some directions about al- tering the roof, Mr. Blake," answered Con- way, carelessly. "I considered the men quite capable of doing that; and really, par- don me, I did not know that you were in- terested in the matter." "I'ni hot interested any further than my business 'and my duty to Mr. Seyton require me to be, sir," returned Mr. Blake, with in- creased stiffness of voice and manner. "1 overlook the matter at his request, sir; and, if I didn't do it,' I don't think you or anybody else~would dance here on Miss Mabel's.tiite." "I know it has given you a deuced deal of trouble, and I am very sorry for it," said the' other, apologetically. - "But, really, if the men will be stupid, and make mis- takes~-" "The men don't make mistakes, sir. Begging your pardon, it's you who change your mind so fast that you can't remember what it was last time." "Well, if I will be stupid and make mis- takes, then, they have to be rectified, you know. Now, that roof-" "Is a disgrace to a Christian building. I grant you that, sir, with all myheart." "I am afraid it would disgrace a heathen one much more deeply. But at all events, it must' come oft'." "It can't come off, sir; that is, if you want the thing done by the 21st." "Can't-the mischief!" said Conway, beginning' to lose patience, and glad that Mabel and Constance had moved away to observe the building from another point of view. "There's no such word as "can't,'' my good friend. 'It must be done." " That's all very fine, sir; but, when peo- pIe 'say ~ tutist' in that sort of style, they ought t&be able provide ways and means. Now, I think it would puzzle' you to do ei- ther." "4n the devil's name, where is the diffi- culty? 'What are the men after now?" "Hard at work with 'the weather-board- ing and flooring, sir. Besides, there's the piazzas to be finished, and every one of the posts'to be put in." "Oblige me by calling them columns, Mr. Blake. But you don't mean to tell me that it is going to take the men until the 21st to (10 nothing but this?" Mr. Blake looked at him fixedly. "If there's as many obstacles thrown in their way as have been, sir, I shall only be sur- prised if they get through in that time," lie answered. "Confound them, and the pavilion too, then!" said Mr. Conway, and he took him- self oft' in a very bad humor. He found plenty of sympathy ready for him, however, and plenty of indignation, too. "It is shameful of Mr. Blake," said Mabel. "I never thought he would he so mean-and about my ball, too." "That is certainly an added enormity," said Constance, with a laugh.-" Mr. Con- way, I am very sorry for you. The pavilion would be so pretty, if only the faults of the roof could be rectified." "It would be so easy, too," said the ag- grieved gentleman. "I assure you I never meant it to slope in that outrageous fashion, and, instead of being pretty, it will be ridic- ulous, if it 1e not altered. Positively, it would not take these fellows three days to do it, nud yet that obstinate old-" Constance held up a warning hand. "Hush I You must not call Mr. Blake any thing uncomplimentary. He means well, I am sure; he always does. Shall I go and try my powers of persuasion with him? Perhaps I might bring him to terms." "I should be inestimably obliged if you can. But I have not much hope." "Neither have I,', said Constance. But, nevertheless, she went toward the place where Mr. Blake still stood, with determina- tion in every line of his face. What she said nobody heard, but she came back after a time with a very radiant smile. "What will you give me for good news?" she cried, as Conway rose to iiieet her. "I don't positively say that I have any, mind you; but what will' you give me iflhave?" 05 "Any thing at my ~ answered ly; "and, please your majesty, you shall he. "We have been sitting here condoling certainly hold your court under a decent with each' other on the prospects of the roof on midsummer night. Miss Lee, let me paVilion, in the most lugubrious fashion im- assist you into the boat. Is it toward home aginable, and I assure you that, if you bring we are to go?" goods news, you may name your own re- "Home, undoubtedly," said Constance. ward, besides meriting our most sincere and "Where else should it be?" lasting gratitude." "I thought Seyton House might tempt "Tell us, Constance; what is it?" asked you." Mabel, full of concern and anxiety. "Please She shook her head. don't keep us waiting." "No; take us home. Mamma isanxjous "Well, then, Mr. Blake has finally con- now, I expect. I did not tell her we were scented to the proposed alteration of the going on the river." roof on condition that it is the last." "Mamma will know very well where we "I knew it could be done," said Con- are," said Mabel, coolly. "Put the oar way, coolly. "I don't feel very grateful, down, Mr. Conway, and let us float back either, for such an ungracious favor. But with the current." you, Miss 'Lee, I can hardly say how mach Mr. Conway was always ready to obey I am obliged to you." any suggestion of hers, especially when, as "Show it, then, by going and thanking in the present case, it prolonged a very Mr. Blake, with some cordiality," she said. pleasant time; so he quietly took his drip- "He assured me that it will take very hard ping oar out of the water, and laid it in the. work to get it finished;~ and pray describe bottom of the boat. Then he sat himself the alteration to him exactly as you wish it down somewhat at the feet of the two sis- done. You owe him that for 'all his ters, and they were all quite silent for a trouble." ' time. "No doubt you are right," he said; "you always are, for that matter." Then he went to Mr. Blake, who received his acknowledgments civilly enough. The two sisters, meanwhile, strolled away tow- ard the boat, and there sat down to wait until he came. It was a beautiful spot, for the verdure of the island rose like a green wall behind them; the water rippled softly past at their feet, the fair prospect of the shore, with its wooded slopes' and green meadow-land lay before them, while Seyton House rose to the left among its terraces and gardens, with the blazing Western sky behind it, and one faint silver star gleaming just above the roof. "The sun has been down some tin~ie," said Constance, after a while. "I wish Mr. Conway would come. We are two good miles from home." "The June twilight is quite long," said Mabel, "and-but here he is, now." She turned as she spoke, and there he was, im~deed, breaking With' quick steps' througit the brushwood to their side. "The matter is all settled," he said, gay- 5 The hour was certainly an exquisite one, and the charm of it entered deeply into the hearts of two 'of them at least. It wassuch an evening as only June ever gives us-so gold- en and serene in its royal wealth of beauty. The western sky still burned with the glow which in this month never quite fades from it all the night long. A crescent moon was shining where the crimson and golden tints melted into the misty sapphire of the upper skies, and more than one star had by this time come forth into sight. The river looked deep and dark along the shadowed banks, but where they gilded the surface still glittered with sunset reflections, even though all distant objects were now draped in the soft summer gloaming. "Mr. Conway," said Mabel, at last, "this is the time, of all others, for music or poe- try. We have not got the first, but we ca~ have the last. Repeat something to us- something appropriate-and let Constance judge of your elocution." He looked up at her with a quick light in his eyes. Her allusion to Constance had passed unheard. All his good resolutions k MAREL LEE. page: 66-67[View Page 66-67] MABEL LEE'. ON THE~ WING-. suddenly became as nothing. They two were alone in the world at that moment, a~ii1 would hav~ been all the same if a hun- dred people, instead of one, had been pres- ent. "Listen, then," he said, and he began that mqst beautiful of ~tll Browning's minor poems-the matchless "In a Gondola." Neither of the sisters had ever heard it be- fore, as few of us ever chance to hear any thing-heard it interpreted with all t'~ 'as- sion and tenderness that can fill a h. ian heart, for he rendered it with all the expres- sion that told one at least of them how en- tirely the spirit of the poem had entered into the man, and the man into the poem, until they two seemed but one-until it was not the ill-fated Venetian lover, but Philip Conway's self, who spoke, in the flow of perfect verse, his love and hope. They sat silently listening, while the dusk deepened round them, while the boat swept steadily on with the broad, majestic current, and, after a time, the lights of Ayre gleamed into sight, like distant stars, just as the end came, and Conway's voice, vibrating with marvellous tenderness and triumphant scorn, with proud daring and prouder resignation, spoke the closing words: "'It was ordaIned to be so, Sweet-sod best Comes now, beneath thine eyes, and on thy breast. Still kiss ~neR Care not fo~ the cowards (lare Only to put aside thy beauteous hair ~tybloodw1llhurtI TheThreeldonotscorn To death, because they never lived: but I Have lived Indeed, Qnd so-O~et one more klsa)-.-can diel'" After his voice sank on the last cadence, there was profound stillness. They could not see each other's face, and nobody spoke until he guided the boat ashore and touched land at the foot of Mrs. Lee's garden. CHAPTER XII. ox THE WI5~G. ~o the days went by, lengthening into weeks, until the 21st of June was near at hand. The pavilion had been finished in good time, and the preparations for the ball were inaugurated in due state; but all of a sudden Conway seemed to lose both spirit and interest in the matter. lie still worked as zealously as ever, superintended the decoration of the island, helped Mabel to fill out her list of invitations? and made himself useful and obliging in a good many different ways. But the animation, the personal zest, as it were, seemed to have deserted him; and one day he electrified the two Lee sisters by saying that he thought it doubtful whether he could re- main for the ball, or whether midsummer night would not find him distant by many miles from Seyton and Ayre. The conster- nation which ensued was very gret~t, and they asked at once why he had arrived at such a resolution. He was reticent, and by no means satisfactory for some time; but at last he said frankly that he saw no good in staying any longer. "You see," he went on, looking not at Mabel, but at Constance, "there are several reasons why I think I ought to go. For one thing, my mother is quite alone in Paris; and for another-well, for another, I think the limit of any reasonable visit has by this time expired." "But Mr. Sexton," cried Constance, eagerly. "Has he said nothing? Will he allow you to go without-without declaring his intentions concerning you?" The young man threw back his head a little haughtily, in a way peculiar to him. Somehow~ of late, any mention of the heir- ~ship had seemed to annoy him. "My uncle only invited me to pay him a visit," he said, with a very unusual amount of dignity. "Of course we both knew what that meant; but he has never directly al- luded to the question of inheritance, and I don't think he ever will. I don't think, either, that I have the shadow of a chance. Of course, there will be no certainty-can be no certainty-for some time; but I fancy Cyril has won the race by several lengths." "I think you are mistaken," Constance began, but he interrupted her quickly. "I have the best possible reason for be- ing sure that I am not mistaken; and, after all, it may be best so. Cyril will enjoy the life amastngly, while I should probably never do more than barely endure it, 'Better fifty years of Europe, Than a cycle of Cathay.' For Cathay read Seyton. 1 am philosophy cal at least.-Am I not, Miss Mabel?" Mabel looked up at this appeal, but was with very troubled eyes, and a mont] slightly quivering, despite the faint emil she forced. "I wish you were less philosophical,' she said. "I wish very much you wouli remain at Cathay, at least until after tht ball. It will not seem like the ball if yo~ go away." "You will have Mr. Harding in mj place." "Do you think Mr. Harding can fill you: place?" "Why, not?" asked lie, a little bitterly. "The heir of Seyton House is the heir of Seyton House, you know, whatever his other name may be." "Don't mind him, Mabel, he is becom- ing cynical by way of variety," Constance laughed. But Mabel did mind him. She gave one glance of reproach, then turned without a word and left the room. Stricken by remorse, Conway followed to make his peace, and in ratification there- of was forced to promise that he would certainly defer his departure until after the ball; but oven Mabel saw that his intention was firm to go then, and that persuasion would have been useless, if she had had a mind to try it. "We will leave together,'~he said to Ainslie that same day. "I will go with you down to Charleston, and, taking passage thence t6 New York, I can time my move- ments exactly, so as to leave in the Arago, which sails for Havre on the 10th." "You are determined to go, then?" Ainslie asked, looking at him with some sur- prise. "If I were you, Phil, I would think twice about it. Remember you are leaving the field entirely in the hands of your rival." "What difference does that'make?" re- turned the other, shortly. "My uncle is not such a weak fool as to be influenced by the nearest person about him. He has seen enough of both of us to make up his mind in the matter; and staying here will neither. help nor hinder his resolution. l3dsides, it 07 is an undignified position, and one 1 don't fancy." They w6re smoking together on the ter- race, watching the sun go down over the t distant mountains, and Ainslie blew a per- ~ feet cloud before he spoke again; then he a knocked the ashes from his cigar, and said, significantly: ' "How about Miss Lee?" Simple as the question was, it brought a 3 cloud over Conway's face such as had dark- ened it once before at sound of the same name. "Xothing about her," he answered, even more shortly than a moment back. "Come, come, Phil, don't take that tone to me," said the other, good-humoredly. "What is the good of being churlish over the loss of your pretty plaything? Haven't you made up your mind yet that 'lightly won and lightly lost' is to be your motto, now as ever?" "I have made up my mind that I wish Seyton and all its belongings were in the depths of the Ayre," answered Conway, with an unmistakable emphasis of sincerity. "I wonder why I was such a fool as to come here? I might have known that harm of dome sort would be the upshot. I never was fortunate in my life. But you know this would be suicidal, Ralph." "This - what?" asked the other, still smiling. "I never expected to see you take any thing so au tragique. What is the matter? A pleasant flirtation, a good-by, a heartache or two on each side, perhaps, and then-forgetfulness. Is that a matter to be regretted?" "Not fl'Qm your stand-point, perhaps," returned Conway, a little ungratefully. "I see as plainly as you do how it must end," he went on, tossing his cigar far out into the river; "but the consolation of that end- ing is what I don't see, just at present. However, I don't mean to put a climax on my folly, if that is any palliation of the folly already achieved. In my present position, eawr profession, eon. fortune, sane expecta- tions, 8am3 every thing, bl~V debt and trouble,. I could not think of Venus herself, unless she brought a handsome dot with her. So I have made up my mind to~go." I page: 68-69[View Page 68-69] MAREL LEE. "Perhaps it is best," said his friend, amusingly. "If your chances here are good, absence won't hurt them; and for the rest -eke sard SEZTtI, you know." So itwassettled, and that night Conway announced his intended departure to his tin- cle. N1r. Sexton received the news very quietly, and made little or no demur, being, indeed, exceedingly glad of the intelligence. Of late he had been growing more and more uneasy concerning Mabel's evident predilection for his black sheep of a neph- ew; and had wavered' toward the Harding side more on that account than on an~ other whatever. He felt sure that, if the pecuni- ary obstacle were removed, the course of true love would be very apt to run smooth toa matrimonial conclusion, let friends and 'common-sense say what they chose. And, dearly as he loved Mabel, he would almost rather have seen her In her coffin than seen her Philip Conway's wife. Blake himself h4dciiO deeper distrust of the Conway blood, no, mere profound horror of the Conway na- ture,, than had Mr. Sexton, when the mat- ter was brought home to him. It was won- derful how he veered round to the Harding interest during these days of anxiety, and how secure he felt in the pragmatic stupid- ity and, formal piety of the man for whom he had hitherto entertained such a disgust. :N'ow all that was changed; and for some time the heirship of Seyton House hung on rnorp of a thread than it had ever done be- fore, or was ever destined to do again. But he kept his own counsel, and, save by shrewd surmises, nobody knew this, though' everybody saw plainly enough his deep and manifest anxiety about Mabel. It was the perception of this anxiety, and of his uncle's growing coolness toward him, that deter- mined, Conway on departure. "I was a fool to com~i," he thought, again and: again. "I might have known that, there was no such thing as luck for me. Y~, if he'had only known' it, be was ~erving his, interests better, by going than if he had, r nai~ied until doomsday-for, by tAils, ~iean~he g~ve~Ir. Sexton the only clew out qf his difficulty, the only means of corn- pron~i~ing3wilIi two ~onfiicting desires. lie wanted to make Conway his heir, ,and he also wanted to put him forever out of Ma- bel's path of life. He had not seen any pos- sibility of reconciling these two things, un- til the young man himself came forward with the mode. "I am going back to Europe," he said; and eagerly, almost joyfully, Mr. Seyton bade him go. He was young, he could af- ford to wait, thought the elder man; he could afford to remain in ignorance of the good fortune awaiting him-it would be all the more pleasant when it came, and, mean- while, Mabel would marry somebody else, and' be safely out of the way of danger. "It will be all right when he comes back," thought this simple-hearted gentle- man, as he stood that night by his chamber- window, and looked out to a spot where, beyond the luxuriant bloom of the garden, white shafts and garlanded crosses gleamed in the silver moonlight. It was the burial ground of the family-the ground where every Seyton had been laid, since the first of the name was played to rest under the soil of the New World; and it spoke well for this man's brave, steadfast faith, and quiet, stainless life, that the thought that he would be sleeping there when the time of * which he spoke came round, cost him not a sigh. On the contrary, he smiled, and say- ing, "It will be all right then," turned away full of content. On the 20th, while everybody else was full of the approaching f.~te, Ainslie shut himself up in his studio, and gave the fin- ishing touches to the portrait, which for some time had been needing only these fin- ishing touches to complete it. Then, on the morning of midsummer-day, he took Mr. Sexton in and showed it to him. If it had been beautiful, before in its crude, half-fin- ished state, it was something much more than beautiful now. It was a picture such as we seldom see from the hand of an unin- spired artist, from one who has none of the grand impulses of faith, or the tender graces of devotion stirring in his heart, but who works out his conception merely accoMing to the earth, ~arthy. Th~re was about it an exquisite spirituality, and, an almost di- vine loveliness, which could only be likened to "the lamp 'of ~aphtha in the alabaster ON THE WING. vase, glowing with fragrant odors, but shin- said Ainslie. "Seyton would not weary nie ing only through the purest vessels." The if I remained a dozen years; but I received execution was perfect-so perfect that the a letter from Charleston, some days ago, eye, taking in only result, hardly noted the which I ought to have answered hi person, finish of detail which gave the result. If a and at once. I could not prevail upon my- fault was perceptible, it lay in the two cvi- self to leave before the ball, however, so re- dent signs of long and patient labor, and the mnained in defiance of business. But I must "bits" here and there, showing that they go to-morrow, or next day at farthest." had been toiled over stroke upon stroke, "Well," said Mr. Seyton, with a sigh, until the artist himself was satisfied. The "if you must, you must. But the precept, fleecy clouds seemed melting into the deep which bids one speed the parting guest, has sapphire sky, which was rather to be felt always been the hardest of all to me, espe- than seem behind them; and the folds of the emily if that guest was a friend as valued blue drapery floated out, half filled with air, and intimate as you must allow me to eon- more like The drapery in that exquisite sider yourself." "Terza di I'Totte" of Raphael, than any "I hope I am sufficiently grateful for the thing else. :No one who has ever seen that compliment, my dear sir." picture wjll forget the buoyancy of the fig- "You will go?" ure, or the matchless grace with which the "I regret to say that I have no option folds of the mantle envelop it, as it floats but to do so." in mid air; and, almost unconsciously, Ains- "I shall miss you sadly-you and Philip lie had embodied much of the same spirit, both," said Mr. Seyton, but he was too well save that here there was more repose. The bred to press the matter further, and he clasped hands, the head slightly bent, the consoled himself for his coming desolation whole pose of the picture, was full of quiet by calling in two or three of the servants, and sadness, and, now that it was finished, and having the picture hung in the library, the indescribable pathos which pervaded it just opposite his favorite seat. There was was even more perceptible than before. considerable difficulty about the light and Despite this, however, Mr. Seyton seemed the position, and all that sort of thing; but fully satisfied, and was eager in admiration at last it was adjusted to his satisfaction, and praise. and he sat down opposite the mute shadow "It is exquisite! " he said. "Simply as of his darling. "It looks like the other Ma- a picture, it would be an invaluable posses- bel, as I saw her last," he said to himself; siotm, Mr. Ainslie; but, as a likeness of Miv and after that he stayed there quiet and un- bel, it is worth more than its weight in dia- moving for several hours. monds to me! The only trouble now is, that Meanwhile, there was great and unusual I cannot possibly thank you enough for it." commotion among nil the young people of "You have thanked me too much al- Ayre. They were not young people who ready, my dear sir," said Ainslie. "I am were at all seasoned to dissipation- a only very happy if my dabbling in colors has few picnics, and a quiet dance or two, corn- enabled me to require in some sort your uprising, as a general thing, their social ex- kindness. Once more you must let me excitement the year round. So the prospect thank you for it, and repeat hoW pleasant of a real and undoubted ball, on quite a my visit has been, for I regret to say that it grand and rather a novel scale, had,' elated draws to a close." them in high degree. It made no difference "You are really going, then? In that whatever that the weather was scorching, case I am half sorry the portrait is finished, and that old people, and people who, not But what is your haute? I have often being de'n~otre clause, had not been invited, heard you say your time is your own, and, declared that dancing would prove simply if you persist in leaving, I shall think that unendurable, for they found their forebod- Soyton has begun to weary you." ings laughed to scorn. It would have taken "You could not do me greater injustice," a more than African degree of heat to damp page: 70-71[View Page 70-71] MABEL LEE.' , ON THE WING. the spirit of Terpsichore which was ever bubbling up in the breasts of these gay, fresh country maidens, who bad not yet learned to despise every thing save the Ger- man, and vote even that only tolerable with an entertaining partner. "A partner!" cried Miss Nina Eston, when a languid, city-spoiled young lady suggested this new view of things. "I like a good partner, of course; but, my dear child, I would dance with a stick, to be dancing." And this was not only the theory, but also the practice, of all the demoiselles of Ayre. So, as "sticks" tibounded there, as well as elsewhere, wall-flowers were conse- quently next thing to unknown. This line of liberal sentiment gave animation and zest to the small assemblies with which Ayre occasionally amused itself, and made them su~ch pleasant scenes that the veriest bigot who ever declaimed against "the sin of shuffling the feet" might have been con- ~erted, if he had watched for one half-hour those bright faces and graceful forms, as they moved through the quadrilics, or tried a quiet polka or two. ]3ut, as it chanced, such bigots were rare in Ayre; and even the two Misses Phifer, who represented as much of the element as was afloat, had pledged the attendance of their Roman noses at Mr. Seyton's fe4te. Great were the preparations of this day, therefore, and poor Constance (who was a very popular referee in matters of costume) really thought that it would never come to an end, and night fairly close over them. it closed at last, and the important busi- ness of dressing began. It was a business which cleared Mrs. Lee's house very speedily of all eave its regular occupants, and left bnly a permanent thunder-cloud in the per- son of Mr. Kowell. He was what Mabel called "boiling with ill-humor," on account of the ball, and had utterly refused to go to it. But still he haunted the house all day, and made himself particularly disagreeable. After tea, Mabel went up-stairs to array her- self; but, before doingso, gave him his orders. "You are not to leave until I come down and show myself to you," she said; and, chafed and vexed though he was, he could not find it in his heart to disobey. Poor fellow I he was not the kind of man whose love-troubles meet with much sympathy from the outside world-rarely even with much encouragement from their object-yet they were none the less sipcere for that. They made him moody and bitter, they en- raged him against himself and his own folly, they even rendered him harsh and disagree- able to the woman he would have died to serve; but they were, perhaps, the most real thing about a nature which was intense in its reality. Once for all, it may be as well to say here that Francis Nowell loved Mabel Lee as it is the fortune of few women on this earth of ours to be loved; and that he could not remember a single day, since her childhood, when he had not loved her in this absorbing fashion. She embodied every thing that was tender and soft in his nature and conception, for, beyond that, he was a man whose sentiments toward the world were, at best, those of simple indiffer- ence. Mother or sisters he had none. Con- stance he liked, in a certain cold way of his own; and for his aunt he entertained a pro- found contempt. But Mabel had twined herself into the inmost recess of his heart, and remained there, without change or shadow of turning, to his dying day. Left alone now, he walked restlessly about the little sitting-room, where tokeimuf her met his eye on every side, and tokens, too, of this new life which was estranging her from him. There lay some fragments of her dress-the dress over which Constance had toiled so lovingly and patiently: there a rib- bon that ~had dropped from her hair; there the gloves she had trimmed with lace, and forgotten to take up-stairs; and there, close beside them, for she had read it in the inter~ vals of sewing, a volume of Browning, open on the last page of "In a Gondola." He did not know, of course, the association connected with this; but still he eyed it disapprovingly, and, after glancing at the closing verses, had just laid it down with a muttered "Stuff!" when there came a rus- tle of drapery, and a light footstep on the stairs. The next moment she flashed in upon him through the open door. And how beautiful she was! Long years afterward, in the sternness and gray ness of his age, his heart warmed into hf whenever he recalled her as she stood be fore him that night in the full flush of ho youth and beauty. She was dressed b white gauze, of the most airy and web-lik texture, embroidered with a silver oak-leaf and-acorn device, the full, sweeping skir falling in a train behind, but short enough in front to uncover the dainty, slippere feet. Her rich golden hair was arrange in loose curls that hung quite to her waisi behind, while a chaplet of pearls, whici had been Mr. Seyton's gift that day, bound them back from the brow in front, but they fell over the bare shoulders and arms like rippling masses of sunlight; and the effect was so dazzling, that she seemed to briug a glory into the room with her. 'No detail of the costume was careless or lacking; and, as she stood looking at her cousin, full of laughing pride and conscious loveliness, he could scarcely, for once, forbear the utter- ance of his admiration. He did forbear, though it was hard for him to do so. He swallowed down the words of praise that rose to his lips, and spoke after a while in quite his usual fashion:. "I suppose you think you are looking very charming, Mabel? I wonder if you will turn anybody else's head to-night half as much as your own is turned?" "So you~don't think Jam looking charm- ing?" "I think I have seen you look quite as well often before; and, indeed, to my mind, a great deal better." "In a calico, or something of that sort, perhaps?" '11 even with Francis. So she only looked up 'e at him with a smile-that came back to him afterward, many a time, and pierced more sharply than a sword-stroke-saying: a "I see you mean to put me out of lin- S mor; but that is even beyond your power to-night. I would not quarrel with the t most provoking person in the world-which you are not, yet a while. I came down to I be admired; and, if you will not admire me, I I suppose I ~nust be resigned. But I have a favor to ask of you. Please think better of your resolution, and come to my ball." She spoke very pleadingly; but the mere mention of the ball was as wormwood to him, and he answered, sharply enough: "I never think better of my resolutions, Mabel. It is impossible. I shall be very busy to-night, and, besides, I should not be likely to contribute to your enjoyment." "That depends entirely upon yourself. You could contribute to it very much, if you would." "Pretty speeches are not necessary be- tween us, Mabel." "I am not making pretty speeches," she said, a little indignantly. "What is the matter with you to-night? 7ou are even itmoi~e dis-cross than usual." "Then I would be even less likely to prove a welcome addition to your ball com- pany." "I only wish I could persuade you to come in character, as Diogenes, or Timon of Athens. Everybody would be sure to say, 'How appropriate! '" "That would be very kind of everybody; but I shall not afford thorn the gratifica- tion." "Yes; in a calico, or something of that "You positively will not come?" sort, if it was neatly made, and modestly "I have already answered that question, put on." Mabel." Mabel flushed suddenly. It was right "Well," said Mabel, who felt herself hard to meet such a reception, and be strangely rebuffed, "as you please, of course. greeted by such censure, when she had come But I am sure I would do as much to give down full of her happiness. and pleasure; you pleasure. If it were your flte, now- and, for one instant, a sharp retort-if any but, then, there's no good in talking. You retort of hers could possibly have been say you will not come?" sharp.~-rose to her lips. But the gentleness She looked at him as she uttered the last of her nature prevailed now, as ever. She words, and nobody, save himself; knew how thought better of it before it was spoken; nearly he had yielded. She seemed so end, besides, she was too happy to be cross pained, and was so lovely, that his heart I page: 72-73[View Page 72-73] /2 MABEL LEE. suddenly smote him. It was, as she said, her flte, and, when every one else was at her feet, he alone thwarted and vexed her. In another moment he might have agreed to go, had not a sudden interruption come- steps were heard advancing along the gar- den-patl~, voices and laughter sounded quite near. Mabel flushed up with warm delight, and ~Towell drew back into his shell, cold and hard as ever, when the glass door 'lead- iftg into the garden opened, and a brilliant gro~1p entered. It was Mr. Sexton and his three guests, in full, evening costume, and they made a very imposing appearance, even though the dress suited Mr. Harding about as well as it would havesuited an un- d~rtalcer. He looked singularly out of plaoe, and singularly out of humor, too, so that his face was a very good foil to the brightziess of the three other faces, as they came in together. Perhaps, if the truth had been known, their r~ioods were not much more tuned to enjoyment than his; but they were all three, in their different ways, men of the wbrld, and had at command the lip-deep siiiiles that Society (which cares not a jot whether the' heart be gay or breaking) de- mands from all her votaries. Mr. Harding had infinitely less of the conventional power of self-control about' him; and then his grievance was the most real of all. The latter should be taken into consideration; for, let people talk as they will of sentimen- tal grievances being as bad or worse than real ones, they have, at least, the merit of being more easily concealed and put aside. A man may smile when the woman he loves has just told him that he is nothing to her -indeed, it sometimes affords him a great deal of gloomy satisfaction to do so-but he must possess rare facial muscles if he can smile when bankruptcy is hanging over his head, or when Poverty grins at him from an empty larder. Mr. Harding's trouble was not quite so real as this, but still it was not a light one; for on that day he had heard, from his un- cle's own lips, that all his hopes of the Sey- ton inheritance were at an end. "I tell you this, because I think it is right you should know it," Mr. Sexton had said, after his resolution was declared as kindly and gently as possible. "It would be wrong to let you cherish expectation which my death would only disappoint. I have not told Philip yet, and do not intend to tell him. But ~ou are different. I felt it a duty to let you know. When I die, you will find that 1 have remembered you in the little which is mine to give; but Philip is the natural heir. Adela is older than your mother, and it seems his right." "I only hope you may never regret it, sir," was all that Mr. Harding replied, for he had, some dignity in his own fashion; but it would be hard to say how bitterly re- sentful he felt at heart. This bitterness and resentment were still very evident in his face and manner- for brooding over his wrongs had only strengthened his conviction of them-and made his presence any thing but one of sun- shine when he entered Mrs. Lee's sitting- room, and saw the young queen of the even- ing, in her white gauze dress and shim- mering pearls. It is not too much to say that he fairly hated her, as she stood before him all flushed and radiant, looking more like a shining ~eri, than the sad Madonna Ainslie had painted. In his heart, he firm- ly believed that she was the cause of his uncle's decision in favor of. Conway. He thought, as a more keen-sighted person might have been pardoned for thinking, that it was simply on account of the ten- di-esse existing between those two, that Mr. Sexton had bestowed the inheritance (as Ayre had said, from the first, he meant to bestow it) on the choice of his goddaugh- ter. "He has played his cards better than I have," thought Mr. Harding, bitterly, as he watched the light on Mabel's face, while she stood talking to his cousin, a little apart from the rest~-for Mrs. Lee and Constance had appeared by this time-and felt all the humiliation as well as the sting of defeat. "He has played his cards better then I have, for it is very plain that all my utinle's talk about the eldest. and the right, and the natural heir, means simply tlii L It is all because of her baby face 'and baby liking that he is chosen. He saw it from thefirat, 4 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. and now-it is enough to make a man curse them both!" To this mildly Christian soliloquy, Mr. CHAPTER XIII. Nowell's face was an admirable accompa- niment, and their moods appeared so much MID5UMMER-NIGIIT 5 DREAM. like two instruments "sweetly played in THREE or four hours later, the bail was tune," that it almost seemed as if they in full progress, and the island gleamed might have found comfort in mutual corn- from end to end with lamps of many colors, panionship~ Instead of that, they scarcely shining out everywhere among the deep foli- noticed each other, but stood separately age, and making an effect which is so bean- aloof and from their different positions re- tiful that, common as it is, we never weary guarded the interchange of compliments and of it. The reflections of the illuminations greetings going on, very much as Diogenes were thrown far out on the river, and the may have regarded all the glittering bravery skiffs that were constantly darting to and and royal pomp of Alexander, when he cast fro threw up showers of water that glittered his kingly shadow down upon the cynic's tub. like gold and diamonds. The banks were It was growing late, however, as the quite fringed with these boats, and crowds hands of t~e clock over the mantel testified; of servants loitered about admiring the fairy- and Mr. ~eyton declared at last that they like scene, and enjoying the gala-air of the must start. occasion as much as, or perhaps a little more "It would be bad if our guests began to than, their betters. From the Potomac to arrive, and there was no one to receive the Rio Grande there was no picture in them," he said. So then a universal shawl- those days without these ebony accessories; ing took place, and they all set forth. Ma- and a ball would scarcely have seemed a bel was the last to leave the room; and, as ball if the eager black faces had not peered she was going out on Philip Conway's arm, in at windows and doors, full of admiration she turned back a moment and held out her and delight. Sometimes this admiration hand to Mr. Nowell. and delight shamed the apathy of those who "Good-night, Francis," she said, softly, were more directly engaged in the festivi- for, although it -was his own fault, she felt ties; but it was not so on this occasion, for sorry that he had no part in their pleasure, there never was a greater success in a social but was left behind in. this way; "I wish way than Mabel's midsummer-night's ball. you would think better of it. Won't you Out of the many invitations issued, there come-even now " had hardly been one "regret" returned; "Impossible,"~ he answered, coldly. "I and numbers of people were there, who had have told you before that I am busy. Good- driven from the other end of the county, a night. I hope you will enjoy, yourself." distance of some twenty or thirty miles, to "I would enjoy myself more if you were participate in the sight-seeing. with us," she said, gazing at him wistfully. Up and down the alleys and arcade; But, seeing how hard and immovable he that had cost Philip Conway so much tron- looked, she uttered another soft good-night, ble, wandered the brightly-dressed groups, and went away. and there was not a ~nook on the island. He watched the last gleam of her dress that had not echoed their gay voices and down the garden-path to where the boat lay; merry laughter. and then he turned moodily from the house. :N~ecessarily Mirth erected his chief throne His heart was heavy enough as he went in the pavilion, but the crowd 'was very down the street toward his dreary office, excessive there, and, by way of relief, the but it would have been heavier still if he cool woodland paths were very pleasant~ could have even faintly imagined how and So, also, was the circular piazza, from which where he wae next to see that face, whose an excellent view could be obtained of the eyes had just looked at him so wistfully and interior, with its brilliant and shifting vainly, throng. Almost any ballroom is a pretty page: 74-75[View Page 74-75] 44 MABEL LEE. MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. sight; for the massing of the figures, the constant picturesque combinations which they form, the unconscious harmony with the rise and swell of music, that tones down almost any movements to grace, the brightly- lit faces, the "dancers dancing in tune," and th9 cadenced rhythm of "flute, violin, and bassoon," all conspire to make up the delight of the eye in no ordinary degree. But this ballroom seemed, to its partial lookers-on, welluigh the~ prettiest they had ever seen. Through the length and breadth of the State, Ayre was renowned for its' pretty women, and never had they better sustained their reputation than on this night. Look- ing through one of the broad windows on the dancing-room, it was a perfect "rose- bud garden of girls" which charmed the glance, as they circled in and out of the time-honored and time-worn quadrille fig- ures, 'or threw themselves body and soul ' into the old-fashioned waltz, than which nothing more graceful, nothing more de- lightful, has ever been, or ever will be, invented. The girl of the period had not yet arrived, bringing along with her the dance of the period; and, when the baud struck up one of the sweet old Strauss waltzes, eyes brightened and lips smiled as gayly as they brighten and smile now over the last galop from "La Grande Duchesse," or "La Belle H6l~ne." "Don't let me keep you, Frank," said Constance, turning to a young man who stood with her near one of the windows, where they could feel the cool night air, and enjoy the animated scene at the same time. "I know you 'want to be dancing. Fray go." The person thus addressed-a young col- legian, who quite unconsciously kept time to the music with his foot, and whose hand- some face, "beneath its garniture of curly gold," proved his near relationship to the see- end best beauty in the rooms i. e.7 Miss Nina Eston, of musical fame-looked round with a smile. "I'll go, certainly, Miss Constance," he answered, "if you will go too, but not otherwise. Shall we take a turn? It looks pleasant, I am sure." "It looks extremely pleasant," Con- stance replied; "and that is why I bid you go and find a partner. I believe .1 don't care to take a turn-waltzing is much too warm work for to-night. But I see that you can hardly keep still, so take yourself off at once." "And leave you alone?" asked he, plainly anxious to obey, and yet fearful of transgressing 168 l~iCfl8&8flCe8 too far, in so doing. "What does it matter about leaving me alone?" said she, laughing. "But here is Mr. Seyton, so now you need not hesitate~ Do go. I want to see what new steps you have learned at the university." "We don't learn steps at the univer- sity," said he, shrugging his shoulders. "And, besides-I don't see any available partner." "Yonder is Maggie Bradford." "I don't care to ask Miss Maggie." "Why not? She is a very good waltz- er:" "Yes," answered he, a little hesitating- ly; and then after a moment his grievance came out. "I was engaged to her for the last waltz, and she snubbed me in the cool- est possible, to give it to that-" he paused, glanced at Mr. Seyton, and concluded his sentence in a manner plainly different from what he had intended-" that Mr. Conway." Constance laughed. "Well, yonder is Mabel," she said. "Go and make her snub Mr. Conway for your benefit. That will be only fair, I am sure." "It would be only fair, hut how am Ito do it?" '~ As if you need to ask me! Claim the right of friendship, of course; and be as plaintive as possible. Tell her you have not danced with her to-night, and that you must have one waltz at least for auld ac- sake. AAIA, also, that you may be in Asia, Africa, or Oceanica, on her next f4te-day, and I hardly think she will refuse you." The young man laughed, and went off right willingly. Constance and Mr. Seyton watched him as he crossed the room, dex~ 't~rously avoiding collision with several waltzing couples, and gained an alcove where Mabel stood surrounded by several gentlemen, of whom Conway was one. As Eston drew near, she laid her hand on the arm of the latter, and was on the point of turning away, but the young collegian stopped her, and an animated discussion ensued. "I have no idea that Frank will suc- ceed," said Mr. Seyton, regarding the scene with very manifest anxiety; but Constance smiled, and answered that she thought he would. The result proved her opinion right. After a moment they saw Conway fall back with only tolerable grace, and the next instant Mabel's white dress floated by them, and ~'rank Eston nodded triumphant- ly over his shoulder, as he bore his prize round and round in that swift, delicious whirl which sets the blood dancing and the whole frame tingling like nothing else in the world. Undoubtedly, there were many fair wom- en present that night-women with all the beauty of face and form and all the name- less fascination of voice and manner which have made their land famous-but fairest far among them all was the young belle of the' evening. It seemed as if an accession of loveliness had come to Mabel like an in- spiration that night, and astonished even the people who had known and admired her all her life. It was not the mere ad- vantage of costume, or the beauty, but it was something deeper, richer, rarer than any of these, which shed over her a glory next to divine. The girl was dead, the woman had waked to life, and the change startled even her own sister. "She looks as if she were enchanted," Constance had said, almost unconsciously, yet in her unconsciousness she struck home to the truth. Enchanted That was the solution. That was the key to all this new afiluenee of beauty, this dazzling transfl~ura- tion of the familiar face till it seemed unfa- miliar. The dewy lustre of the eyes, the smile that rested like sunshine on the sweet rose lips, the whole expression was changed and 'glorified into something that the fair, serene features had never known before- something, too, that had a certain pathos of its own, and touched into sadness more than one among those who were old enough to have seen many such bright dawns darken be- fore noonday into clouds and tempest. Ma- bel herself was conscious that it was an un- natural excitement which filledher veins like a subtle elixir, but she yielded willingly to the spell, and shut her eyes to every thing save the passing hour. "I mean to think of nothing but to- night," she said t~"herself and for once this resolution-a resolution very hard to carry out-was faithfully fulfilled. She thought of nothing hut the night-not of the morrow with its farewell, and still less of the long, blank morrows that were to come after- and, thus feeling, possessed once at least that hoard of fairy gold which is far more bright and far more ~r~cious than all the currency of earth. Ah I who has not been thrilled by its magical glitter, its wonderful promise of happiness and beauty; and who also has not waked to find it moss and leaves? Now, it happened that when Mabel had yielded to young Eston's auld acquaintance plea, she had done so rather reluctantly, saying, "If you insist, Frank, I suppose 'I must give you one turn, but~ the waltz is Mr. Conway's, and he has a right to the rest-that isif he chooses to wait for it." She looked at Conway interrogatively, as she spoke, and he fell back, as before mentioned, with only tolerable grace. "Let it be only one turn, then," he an- swered, "and of course you know there is no question of my choosing to wait. You will find me here." "A~& revoir, then,1' she said. The next moment she vanished from his side, and he only caught a glimpse of her bent head over Frank Eaton's' shoulder, as they joined the waltzers. lIe did not tronible himself to find a seat, or seek a companion, but re- mained where she had left him, leaning against the side of an open window in the careless, languid fashion that had been a revelation to the country-bred youths .of Ayre. Glancing out on one sideV he Saw the cool, dark arcades stretching away in long vistas, broken here and there by gleam? page: 76-77[View Page 76-77] 116 MABEL LEE. MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. ing lanips.; glancing in on the other, he watched' the gay. crowd shifting its many colors like ~ kaleidoscope, and, if Tennyson had given his "Maud" to the critics sev- eral y~ars before its actual appearance, he might have solaced himself by quoting the sweetest love-song of our day, and mur- mured, as 'he saw Mabel first nearing him in the dance: "Come forth, little head, sunning over with curls, Tothe flowers, and be their sun; In gloss of satin1 and glimmer of pearls, Queen lily, ~nd rose, In one." As it was, however, he only thought the same thing, in much less poetical form. "It is confoundedly warm in here," he said to himself, "and these people bore one to death. Instead of the waltz, I shall take her out into the grounds, and I only hope lie broke off abruptly, for she had reached him, and, as he stepped forward to claim her, whirled past again more rapidly than before. He could not see that she did so with little' or no volition of her own; that Frank Eston had borne her on quite against her' intention or desire, saying, "We are just in the spirit of it, and this has been only a taste. One more turn, Miss Ma- bel; ". nor did he catch the half-appealing, half..apologetio glance that she sent back to him, for at that moment Fate cast a sud- den and most unexpected treasure upon his hands in the substantial shape of Miss Nina Eaton. It chanced that this young lady was one of the best, if not the very best, among the fair waltzers of Ayre, and, to use her own form of asseveration, was "perfectly de- voted" to that Terpaichorean exercise; but it also chanced that 'she was unfortunately addicted to a trick of losing her head, on all waltzing occasions, and, unless she had a partner who was capable of regulating her course, w'as very apt to increase her pace iui~iiI she came to grief in consequence of colliding with some unwary couple, or over-' Vw~ning some innocent bystander. On this oceftalon, sh~ had been dancing with a young college friend of her brother's, a thin,' pale y4rnth who knew the least in the world about waltzing, who took wild, uncertain steps in every direction, and had not the strength of a feather with which to oppose his partner's momentum when she took him by the shoulder and carried him along, help- less and terrified, at a whirlwind rate of progress. The lookers-on laughed, for they saw that a catastrophe was inevitable, and more than one of them said, "Poor fellow! he'll know what's what, if he once feels the full weight of Nina's hundred and fifty pounds." That he did not feel it, was cer- tainly not the result of his own skill or Nina's caution, or their common good for- tune; but was simply owing to the fact that Conway had stepped forward to meet Ma.. bel, and had been left in the lurch in the ig- nominious manner above recorded. For, just as Frank Eston whirled her past him, the unfortunate collegian was precipitated, without any agency of his own, full against Mr. Harding, who, with Miss Lavinia Crane on his arm, had been rash enough to at- tempt the passage of the room. Both gentle- men reeled, lost their balance, and came down together, with a thundering crash which was heard above the pealing of the band, and turned every eye at once upon them. Miss Crane had save~1 herself by dropping her escort's arm and retreating with a slight scream, when she saw what was coming; but Miss Eaton would infal- libly have gone down in the common disas- ter, if Conway had not been at hand, and caught her just in time. lie drew her back, and then lent his aid to the two unfortu- nates, who, instead of compassionating each other, were mutually an~ry and indignant. Mr. Harding was very red, the collegian was very purple, and they both began talking in an excited tone as soon as they gained their feet. Finding that no bones were broken, Conway left them to settle the mat- ter as best they could, and went hack to the real culprit, who stood aloQf laughing as only a pretty hoyden of eighteen can laugh. "Did you ever see any thing more ab- surd?" she cried, as he came toward her. "Of all people in the room, for that ~olemn Mr., Harding to have been knocked over; and then if you could have met thWk in poor Bartlett's eyes when he went ~ foremost against him! I am very sormy,~ course, for it was all my fault; but I never saw any thing more ridiculous. And what a tremendous thump they made! I fully expected the floor to give way. It certain- ly would have done so, if you had not caught me, Mr. Conway. I am extremely obliged to you, for I am sure that poor boy would have been crushed to death between Mr. Harding and myself; and then Ayre would never have got done laughing at me." "Never got done laughing at you for crushing Mr. Bartlett to death? That would be rather a funereal subject for mer- riment, it seems to me. But I hope you are not hurt. It was rather close work." "I hope my dress is not hurt," said she, examining ljhe fleecy clouds of tarletan that enveloped her. "That would be a matter of some importance. Look, please, Mr. Con- way, and see if there are any rents. I am almost sure I heard it tear." Conway looked critically all over the skirt, and comforted her by the assurance that no rents were visible, which she de- clared to be quite providential, since the unhappy Mr. Bartlett had floundered about like a fish on land, or a cat in water, and might have done any amount of mischief. ~ I consider it really next thing to a miracle," said she, putting up some locks of ruddy hair that were straying about unbid- den, for, though it was quite early in the evening, her violent exercise had made her look dishevelled before the ordinary time for that appearance. "If you could only imagine all the thinks he did with his feet! Frankly, I don't believe he ever tried to waltz before in his life. ' Is he coming this way again? Oh, for mercy's sake, Mr. Con- way, rescue me. Throw me out of the win- dow, if there is no other mode of escape." "I will do better than that," said Con- way. "Are you too tired for another round?" "Oh, dear no-not too tired for a dozen more rounds with a partner who knows his business." "En auantV' said he, gayly; and, when poor Mr. Bartlett eame up to make his' weak-voiced apologies for having been knocked. ever, he -saw his plirtuer floating round the room in the best of spirits and best of looks, on Philip Conway's arm. Mabel saw it too, and felt more grieved than indignant threat. "He might have waited for me," she thought; but she also thought it natural enough that he had not done so; and instead of being cross to Frank Eaton, according to the general impulse of feminine nature in such cases, she waltzed with~ him for some time, then pleaded fa- tigue, and sat down, looking, indeed; de- cidedly pale and tired. "I don't think I shall dance the next set," she said to Constance; but she glanced down on her tablets the next moment, and shook her head. "I see that I must," she added. "It is Mr. Ainslie's set, and I can- not refuse him, for he was so good about giving up to somebody else before this even- ing. If it were anybody else, now-" But, when Mr. Ainslie came up, he saw at once how weary she looked, and very summarily put all question of the set aside. "You have had more than~enough already of the heat and crowd ,"he said. "Ithink some fresh air would doyou more good than any thing else. Have you admired any of: Conway's scenic effects yet? Let me take you out and show them to you." "Take her, by all means," said Con- stance; and, although Mabel was rather reluctant to go, she made no demur, but submitted to be led away at once. About half an hour after this, Conway came up to Miss Lee in a very ill-humor in- deed. "What has become of Nliss Mabel.?" de- manded he, in much the aggrieved tone of one who has been defrauded of some right- ful and undoubted piece of property. "She threw me overboard in the coolest way im- aginable some time ago; and now I cannQt find her anywhere. What has she done with herself?" "She went out with Mr. Ainslie," said Constance, answering over the heads of two or three intermediate people; for she chanced to be surrounded at the momeilt, being, in her own way, quite popular, espe- cially with men who, were old enough 'to Like to talk sense even in a ballroom, and bhose who were young enough to be in bash- page: 78-79[View Page 78-79] 1ABEL LEE. '18 ful awe of the gayer belles of the evening. "You will finder iu the grounds, Mr, Con- way; I cannot tell you any thing more than that.'' "I met her down by the ~iver, a quarter of an hour ago," vo~unteeredii youthful rep- resentative of the jeunease dor~o. "I'll go and lool~ for her, if you say so, Mr. Con- way." "You are very good," said Mr. Cosiway, "but I believe I prefer to go myself. I dis- trust people when they are too obliging, and I am afraid you have some interested motive at the bottom. Experience of the world is apt to make one cautious; and after the manner in which I was treated a little while ago-" "Conway, get a partner, and be our vis.d-vis," said a gentleman, hurrying past, with a dark-eyed girl on his arm, who looked back and cried, "0 Mr. Conway, please do." "Conway, have you seen Miss Lavinia's fan anywhere?" said Mr. Harding, coming up with the look and manner of a detective officer. "She has lost it, and somebody said you had it." "How should I have it?" asked Conway, pettishly. "Don't keep me, my dear fellow -I am just now on my way to fulfil an en- gagemnent, and I can't possibly stx~p." "But hold, on; that's it in your j'ocket there," cried Harding, seizing him. "I see the tassel." "Nonsense I you don't." "But I tell you I do." "Where?" "There." He pointed as he spoke, and Conway, looking impatiently down, saw the tassel of a lady's fan hanging from the breast-pocket of his coat. He jerked it out with a laugh, and held it toward the other. ~'There, take it!" he said. "I don't know how Miss Lavinia's fan came to be in my pocket. She must have dropped it in her consternation at your accident, and I must have picked it up under the impression that it was Miss Eston's. If there are any mere articles of her property missing, don't come to me for them, I beg." He hurried away1 and Harding retraced his steps toward the owner of the recovered property, congratulating himself as he went that the fan had beei~ recovered with so lit- tie trouble. Naturally, therefore, it was quite a damper when the lady shook her head at first sight of the silk and ivory toy. "It is not mine," she said. "Mine was painted with Chinese figures, and had mara- bout feathers. Who did you take it from, I Mr. Harding?" "From my cousin." "Then I suppose it is Nina Eston's. Yon- der she is, just across the room. Suppose you go and return it to her?" "After a while," answered Mr. Harding; for another waltz had just been struck up, and he had no mind for another collision. "You had better go at once," said his companion, warningly. "If she sees it in your hand, she will come for it; and there is really no telling what sh~ might do in that case. She would think nothing of mak- ing you waltz with her, whether you would or no." "I am not afraid of that," said Mr. Hard- ing; but he evidently thought it might be wiser to beard the lioness, instead of wait- ing for the lioness to beard him. So he cau- tiously made his way across the rooni, to where Nina stood, surrounded by a staff of admirers. She received him with a courtesy that somewhat set at rest his fears of a vio- lent assault; but she denied in tote the own- ersliip of the fan. "It is not mine," she said. "I think it Is Mabel's. Who did you say you got it from, Mr. Harding?" "From Conway." " Then of course it is Mabel's," said she, with a laugh. "I wonder you could imagine any thing else. We all know-Is this your set, Mr. Royston? I am at your service.-' was going to say, Mr. Harding, that we all know-Dear me, Frank, take your foot off my dress 1" "We all know that Conway is not likely to have any one else's fan," said Mr. Hard- ing, concluding the sentence for her, in his solemn way. Then he went ~back to Miss Crane, and told her that for the present he would retain the property. "When Miss Lee comes in, I will return it" he said; ." and, if she does not oosu~ in B MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. '79 soon, I may go and look for her. But I don't been away at college a long time, and he only think I am called upon to trouble myself returned yesterday, and he just asked for about the matter just now." one turn, and you said you would wait." Conway, meanwhile, having left the "And did I not wait I-and did I not get ballroom in search of Mabel, was fortunate well rewarded for my waiting?" enough to come face to face with her, not "You got Nina," said she, archly. "No ten steps from the door. She was walking doubt you considered that as being well re- slowly, leaning on Ainslie's arm, and listen- warded." ing rather than talking; but she perceived "I don't want to be uncivil with regard her quondam partner at once, and uttered a to Miss Eston," returned Conway, coolly, slight exclamation. He smiled, and, stepping "but I was much nearer considering it as forward, drew her unoccupied hand under being well bored. You cannot make any his arm, while he addressed himself not to excuse; you need not try. I was shame- her, but to Ainslie. fully treated, and I have fairly earned the "I have just come out to look for you, right to name my own indemnification." Ralph," he said; "and I am lucky to find "Name it, then," said she, with a laugh. you so soon. Mrs. Lee is anxious to see you, When he was awa5r from her, she could re- and begged~ me to send you to her immedi- member that it was indeed his "last. night;" ately. You'd better go at once-I will take but, when they were together, she could charge of Miss Mabel." only realize the present, and almost uncon- "Mrs. Lee!" repeated Ainslie, in a tone sciously put from her the dark shade of corn- of surprise. "You must be mistaken-it ing sorrow. "Name it, then." can't be mc she wants." "Leave your partners to take care of "It is you, and no one else. She is in themselves for the next half-hour, and come haste, too-so take yourself off." with me to the river-side. I know a charm- "Oh, I understand," said Ainslic, signili- ing nook, which not more than two or three canty. "Perhaps, however, Miss Mabel people have invaded to-night. You will be will not trouble you to take charge of her. quiet there, and let your adores look for She, too, may like to go to Mrs. Lee." you in vain.". -"If Miss Mabel is wise, she will stay She hesitated~ a moment. Inclination where she is," answered the other, decided- said "go;" prudence said "stay." But, ly. "The atmosphere is at fever heat in the when inclination and prudence~ war to- pavilion just now." gather in the breast of eighteen, with sum- "I believe I will remain a little, longer," mer stars shining down, and summer fra- said Mabel, looking apologetically at Ainslie. grace wooing forward, it is not difficult to It is certainly much pleasanter out imagine how the strife will end. What dif- here," he said, in answer to the look, "and ference did it make about tomorrow? To- there is no better policy than that of gather- night was all that was worth considering. ing roses while you may. It is not often one To-night, with its roses o~' life and bye, its has such good opportunity for doing so." wonderful chances of happiness. To-night, He bowed, drew back, and. entered the with its opportunities that would never pavilion, while her new-found escort led come. again-for who in such case needs to Mabel away in the opposite direction. be told that "eternity itself cannot restore "I cannotimagine any thing more shame- the loss struck from the minute?" So she ful than the manner in which you treated hesitated only a moment, and then looked me," he at once began. "I wonder if re- up quickly. morse on that score is the cause of your look- "You are very moderate," she said. ing so pale? To thinl~ that you should have "Show me your nook, by all means," given my waltz to anybody else-on this my It proved to be a lovely spot just by the last night!" river1 where waterlilies fringed the bank, "But yoi!i heard how it was," Mabel said, and cushions of moss spread over the roots with a faint attempt at excuse. "Frank has of a large live-oak, whose giant trirnk shut page: 80-81[View Page 80-81] 80 JJL~~UA~L in one side, while a thicket of luxuriant ~in- dergrowth rose behind. A spot which was as quiet and peaceful as~ there had been no revelry within ear-shot where the odorous midsummer night and the soft rush of the river had all the solitude to themselves, and filled it with a monotone of inexpressible sweetness. Conway arranged a seat for Mabel, and made her lean against the tree, while he himself sat down partly at her side, and partly at her feet. Then there was silence for several moments-silence which Mabel was the first to break. "Mr. Ainslie tells me that you have agreed to defer your departure," she said. "That is good. news for all your friends in Ayre." "Did he?" said Conway, with a start; and, if the darkness had not been all around them, she might haveseen that he frowned ~ suddenly. "I wonder he told you; for it is only deferred twenty-four hours. 'We agreed that it would be next thing to bar- barous to start, unless on a matter of life and deaTh, the day after such dissipation as this. So we have put off our move until Friday; but we go then, without fail." "You are determined?" "Yes, I am determined. As I told you before, there is no good in staying any lon- ger." After this,. there was silence again. It was not ~&Iabel's place to combat this reso- lutioxi,'and she h~d not the faintest idea of attempting to do ~o. If she had known that omie ~~ord of hers would influence him to change~his mind, she would hardly have ut- tered that word. It was not in her to do it. Some women, without overstepping the boundary of womanly reserve, can stoop far enough to make their hearts intelligible to hesitating lovers; but this woman was not of that stamp. To a frank question she would have rendered a frank answer; but she could sooner have built a city than tak- en one s~tep toward encouraging that ques- tion. A woman whom there would have been no difficulty in wooing, for she was almost grand in the simplicity of her hones- ty and truth, but a woman whom ne man need hope to gain by half-expressed passion, or tacit avowal. She was perfectly silent, therefore, and it was Conway who spoke next: "Yes, I am determined; there's nothing gained by keeping a sword hanging over one's head, you know. Even if it is to go to one's heart, it might as well go soon as later. Don't you think I am right? Look at the matter from my point of view, and tell me-don't you think I am right?" She could not see his face, for the light was dim, and he did not turn it toward her; but his tone was full of suppressed passion, as they went out in the darkness; and she had to steady her own voice for several min- utes before she could answer as quietly as she wished. "How should I know, Mr. Conway? How should I be able to judge?" "I think you know," he replied, "and I am sure there is no one better able to judge. You cannot tell how hard I have tried to do. right," he went on quickly. "It is not inclination that I consult in going away. With all my talk of Cathay, and the like, Seyton has been so pleasant to me, that I would willingly turn Arcadian for the rest of my life. But 'he needs must whom the devil drives7' and what devil is there like poverty? Sometimes I think I would sell myself as bondsman for my whole *ex- istence to buy one day-one hour-of free- dom now. Sometimes I think-" He broke off abruptly-just in time. Al- ready he had'said more than he meant to say; already he had told her every thing in voice and manner~, if not in words; but there was still time to pause. There was still time to curb himself before ho was committed Vast recall, and he stopped short, resolved to do so. "I am afool," he said, "and more than a fool, to talk to you like this. I have no right to rebel-life is no harder lines to me than to many another poor wretch who is warned away from Paradise by a flaming sword; but it seems hard to leave, certain that in all human probability we shall never meet again." "Why not? You wrn come back to Ayre some day." "l~ro," said he, moodily. "No; Isbal~ never come back to Ayre~ My cousin Oyril MIDSUMMER-NIGIIT'S DREAM. 81 will scarcely be likely to invite me; and you-you will soon forget me." ~CYou know better than that!" "How should I know better than that? It is the nature of people to forget those who play no active part in their lives. Tow, I go out of your life to-~norrow, and I shall never enter it again. Years hence, when ~ou are the beautiful Mrs. Somebody, the leader of county fashion, you will re- member me as a poor soldier of fortune who once had the honor of contributing to your amusement." "Ahi" It was a low, faint cry which he wrung from her, and which came to him full of pained reproach, striking with a sudden re- morse a sudden sense of his own impru- dence. The lamp-light did not pierce where they were sitting, but his eyes had by this time grown accustomed to the clear star- light of the June night; and, turning tow- ard her, he saw that she was quivering from head to foot, and only controlled her emo- tion by the strongest possible effort. That sight broka down the last barrier of pru- dence and resolution. They had been grow- ing weaker and weaker, the temptation stronger and stronger for some time, and now they were swept utterly away by the tide of feeling that rushed over him. After all, what were these scruples and hesita- tions but the voice of the world, and what had the world to do with them that night? Better one hour of freedom than a lifetime of bondage-better one long, deep draught of the sweet elixir of love, than to go down to tl~e grave with the cry of the starved heart still unsatisfied. Come what might, he could not leave her thus-he must speak now. If it was only to say farewell, they must say it with heart bared to heart. So he made a sudden movement, and possessed himself of her hands, grasping them tightly, holding them firmly. "Forgive me," he said hurriedly; "for- give me if I have pained you. I did not mean it. I don't think you wrn forget me. I only wish to God that you could! " She looked up at him, with breath half hushed on her lips. "Why do you wish that?" she asked. 6 "Don't-don't say any thing more if it is wrong. I will go back now." She made a movement to rise; but he held her, so that it was an impossibility, and spoke-this time without a shade of hesitation. "Why do I wish it? Only because it is selfish and cruel to tell you that I love~ you, to strive, or even to wish to link your life with mine to cloud your bright future with my dark one-and to bind you, by even so much as a memory, to one little worthy, of you. Others can bring something besides themselves; but what have I to offer? A tarnished name, a bankrupt fortune, a-O Mabel, why did I not fight the fight to the end, and go away without having been mad enough to say all this!" of ~ was a strange form for a declaration love; but the earnestness, the sincerity, the passion of his words, thrilled through and through the girl who listened-showing her all at once how dear she was to him, and how he had hesitated for her sake rather than for his own. With this reali- zation, came the consciousness - scarcely understood before-of what he was to her, and the impulse to show him how little she regarded the worldly question that weighed so heavily with him. So, she looked up after a moment, and spoke simply but steadily~ "If it is of me. you are thinking, don't regret what you have said. If love is worth any thing at all, it is certainly worth more than all these things of which you speak. You know best whether or not you must go; whether or not we must part to-mor- row; but I know best this-that it is better to part knowing that we love each other, better to have the open right to think of each other, and, it may be, to wait for each other, than to have left that love unspoken perhaps forever. Even if we have to give each other up, I think we can better do it face to face with the knowledge of our own' hearts, than secretly and by stealth. As for these worldly drawbacks, they seem so little to me that I can scarcely realize how you count them so mu~h4 But you may. be right. I cannot tell~ that; 12 can only te~l that, come what may in the future, we will t i 221. T 213 page: 82-83[View Page 82-83] 0 be richer to the end of our lives for this hour.'7 The sweet, clear voice ceased, but the spirit of her words had gone home to her listener's heart more powerfully than if she had spoken with all the eloquence of all the schools, No man knew better than he the manner in which worldly wisdom would re- fute such philosophy no one had ever mocked more openly or more persistently at such sentiments; but, just then, he could sooner have refuted-sooner have mocked an angel from heaven. The knowledge came to him-as it comes to all sooner or later-that there are diviner things on this earth of ours than the bodies we inhabit, and the needs that go with them; that there are powers neither tangible nor material which no man can safely disregard; and that who so constructs a philosophy ignor- ingthese powers, or professing to curb them by the strong hand of force, must pay the penalty of rashness and folly. To the very core of his heart he felli her last words, "Come what'~nay in the future, we will be richer to the end of our lives for this hour" -and he bent down and laid his lips on the hands he still held. "You are right-I am wrong," he said. "Yes; we will be richer always for this hour, and we will not speak of parting. You are mine now, and I shall not sur- render you at any earthly bidding." * Half an hour later Nina Eston was leav- iug the pavilion with Ainslie, when they came upon Mr. Harding just entering it. He looked so singularly pale and disturbed, that both of them paused involuntarily. "Why, Harding! What is the matter?" Ainslie asked. "Have you seen a ghost, Mr. Harding I" the young lady cried. Harding shook his head, and gave a sort of forced smile, as he strove to pass on, but his lips quivered in the effort, and so did his voice when he answered: "Nothing is the matter with me, and I- Ihave not seen any ghost. Can you tell me where Miss Lee is, Ainslie-Miss Constance, I mean? I have her sister's fan in my pos- session, and I want to give it to her." "Why don't you return it to Miss Mabel?" "I have been looking for her, and-and I cannot find her." "Yonder is Miss Constance, then; but I should not think the possession of a fan would cause you so much uneasiness." "It seems to cause him more than un- easiness," said Miss Eston, as they walked on, while Mr. Harding pursued his way to Constance. "He appears to be seriously troubled, and looks for all the world as if he had seen a ghost." --4-- CHAPTER XIV. THE DOSE DY THE WATEE'S EDGE. DAYLIGHT was beginning to break in the east, when Mr. Sexton's boat unloaded a party of very pensive and yawning passen- gers at the foot of Mrs. Lee's garden. The ball was over, midsummer night was past, and the pale faces and crushed dresses looked very little in keeping with the fresh summer morning, whose purple dawn and early birds had shamed their late revelry. Mrs. Lee looked ennu~i~e and pettish, Con- stance seemed. fairly worn out, and Nina Eston, who had been left by her own party, and accepted Mr. Sexton's invitation to re- turn with him, was wearied and dishevelled to the last degree. She had not opened her lips (excepting to yawn), from the island to Ayre; but she landed with alacrity when their destination was once reached, and, having made her acknowledgments to Mr. Seyton, took her brother's arm to go home. "We must make haste, Frank," she said, as they went up the garden-path, and into the back piazza together. "It is growing light very fast, and I am such an object that I would not like to be seen even by a pig. Oh, dear!" (with a tremendous yawn), "I wonder when I ever will get sleep enough again?-Mabel, you surely are not talking about going anywhere to-morrow-- to-day, I mean?" She stopped as she spoke, and looked with a sort of sleepy curiosity at Mabel, who was standing on the piaEza-step~ with Conway, and who answered with a smile: "1 am only talking of going on tb~ river late this evening, Nina. We will surely have had sleep enough by that time, won't we?" "I don't know whether you will, but I am sure I shall not.-Mr. Conway, you ought to be ashamed to make such a proposal! She should not go." "Not at six o'clock this evening, Miss Eston?" "Indeed, no; uor at six to-morrow evening, either. Besides, I thought you were going away?" "I thought so myself, but I am really afraid I shall not be able to tear myself from Ayre.-Don't forget,~~ he went on, turning to Mabel, "that you need not feel bound to go if you are tired." t~TIierp is no fear of my being tired," Mabel answered; while Nina shrugged her shoulders, and went on into the house. "I will be ready for you. And, Philip-" "Mic& cc&ra?" "Shall I tell Constance and. mamma now, or shall I wait for you to do so?" Conway hesitated; then answered, on the spur of the moment: "Wait-a little while, at least. I owe it to my uncle to speak to him at once; and then we will see about the rest. That is-- but you had better do as you think best. If the opportunity offers, tell them, and-" "Conway, we are waiting for you," came Ainslie's voice from the boat. "I must go," said he, reluctantly. "I will see you this afternoon. Good-by." "Good-by," she echoed, drawing her hand gently from the lingering clasp of his. Then she watched him down the garden- path, until ho vanished from sight; and, af- ter he' was finally gone, turned, and entered the house. She found that Nina and Frank had tak- en' their departure, while Mrs. Lee had F thrown herself into a chair, and declared that she was too tired to go up-stairs. "I knew I should be fatigued to death," she said; "but then nobody minds me-no- body ever did, for that matter. I only hope I shall not have one of my nervous attacks t to pay for it." ' "I hope not, I am sure," said Constance, I, very sincerely. "But, if you are so tired, ~ 88 mamma, you. ought to go to bed. Shall I help you up-stairs?" "No," answered Mrs. Lee, snappishly. "I can drag myself up-stairs by myself. You need not trouble yourself~ Constance. It makes no matter about what I endure. I must only beg that you will not talk any in your room to-night, or I shall not sleep a wink." "Certainly we shall not, mamma, if you desire not. Indeed, we should hardly have been likely to talk any way. Mabel must go to sleep, and I am very tired." "I am often kept awake by your talk- ing," said Mrs. Lee, fretfully. "I have meant to speak about it several times; but, then, I bear a great deal, sooner than com- plain. Nobody could ever say of me that I complain, without great provocation. I as- sure you of that, Constance." "Yes, mamma." "And I beg, therefore, that there may not be even so much as one word spoken to- night. Talking is not necessary to undress- ing; and, before you go to bed, I wish you would bring me a glass of warm sangaree. It may make me sleep." "Will not cold do, mamma? None of the servants are awake, and there is no fire. I don't see how I could get any warm water." "It is always the way whenever Iwant any thing," said Mrs. Lee, injuredly. "Heaven knows it is seldom enough I make any demands on other. people's time or patience; and yet this is always theway. If I were like some people, and gave a great feal of trouble, I might be attended to; but, as it is, you need not trouble yourself about bhe sangaree. I can go to bed; yes, and stay awake, too, without it." "If cold will do, mamma-" "Cold will noC do. I abominate cold ;angaree. Give me a candle, unless I am to ~o to bed in the dark, and let me try to get little rest, at least." Constance brought the candle very quietly , an& lighted her up-stairs with it. rhen she came down again to find the ma- erials for the cold sangaree, which, after lie was in her' chamber, Mrs. Lee* gracious. y agreed to take, and bade Mabel go to bed withoutt waiting for her. MABEL LEE. THE ROSfl BY THE. WATER'S EDGE. page: 84[View Page 84] 84 MABEL LEE. "I will come as soon as I can, dear1" she said; "but go to bed yourself; and be sure you go to sleep." "I will try," said Mabel. Then she kissed her, and went up-stairs. It took Constance some time to find a initmeg for her sangaree, and when at last she had administered it, and entered her own room, she found that Mabel's trying bad resulted better than she herself had ex- pected; for she was fast asleep, lying back on the pillows, in the attitude of a tired child, and breathing with the gentle regu- larity of profound sleep. "I am so glad!" thought tha patient, tired~ ~elder sister; and she extinguished the -eandle at once, and knelt down to say her prayers in the early, purple dawn. The purple dawn had changed to broad, bright afternoon, however, when Mabel at last awoke with a start. She looked about her, somewhat bewildered for a moment, ~woudering what she was doing in bed at that hour of the day, and why the house wa~ sd quiet. But the next instant, recol- lection flashed over her-the ball, her bright gala-dress, her gay reign of enjoyment and triumph, the lights, the music, the dancing, all caineback at once; and with them another yet brighter and sweeter memory-a mem- ory which caused the warm blood to rush over eirery portion of the fair skin which was visible; and, although she was all alone in the room, made her bend her~face down, and cover it with herhands, while a tide of golden hair fell heavily all about her. It was trpe, then~-~-he had spoken! He had told her thathe loved her, he had asked her to sharehis fortune for good or. for ill, to the end of their lives; he had made her under- stand how fair and sweet and lovely every thing.that she did or said was in his eyes. And she-~--ah, she clasped her hands and wondered if he even half guessed how in- finitely dear he was to her, this stranger, ttds knight-errant, this fairy prince who had eiitered her life like a dream, and made it oneklOng story ofomanoe. Itwas no wonder that she lingered long over her, toilet~ he had said that he was &~ihhig thiit afternoon, and she must dress for him. What a labor of love that dress- lag was; and 'when at last she came down, and opened the sitting-room door, how fair and sweet she looked to Constance's loving eyes, arrayed in a white muslin that had just come pure and spotless from under Nancy's smoothing-iron, and with a cluster of blush-roses in her breast! "Come in, dear, but don't make a noise,~~ said Constance, in a low voice. "Mamma waked with a nervous headache~ so she is still in bed, and we must be very careful. How pretty you look; and not at all as if you had danced all night." "That is because I have slept all day," said Mabel, with a smile. "When did you get up, Constance? And why did you let me be so lazy?" "I got up long ago," answered Con- stance, as she rang a bell near her hand; "and as for your being lazy, I was only too glad to see you sleeping.-Bring in Mabel's dinner, Nancy," she added, as. a black face, surmounted by a red-and-yellow turban, ap- peared at the door. "Dinner!" repeated Mabel, in dismay, "Is it so late. Did you finish dinner while I was in bed?" "It is nearly five o'clock," said Con- stance. "I finished my dinner some time ago, and-but there is mamma a bell." ~. A tinkle was heard in the upper regions, whereupon down went her work, and away she went, to answer a demand for the bot- tle of cologne, or something equally impor- taut. Mabel wandered to the garden-door, and stood looking out at the river, that gleamed by under the sweeping willows-that river that would bring her lover to her after a while-when Nancy came in with a tyay, bearing a cup of coffee, a broiled chicken, two or three of the light rolls on W~iich Nancy prided herself; and a feathery ome- let. "It's a deal morS like a breakfast than a dinner, heney," she said, as she set it down, "but Miss Constance would have it so; and vegetables don't keep warm good, no how, so there was a nice corn-pudding and potatoes for dinner, not to spbak of the peas and the sparrowgra$5...~~~ "This is all I care for, I~tancy," said Ma- f I I C Li KABEL LEE. 4. page: Illustration-85[View Page Illustration-85] "'Good-day, Francis. Don't make a noise, please. Mamma is very ~ p. 85. THE ROSE BY TUE WATER'S EDGE. bel, turning round; and, indeed, it proved to be much' more than she eared for. It must be a singular sort of person who has any appetite the day after dancing all night; and, although Mabel drank her coffee, and was very glad of it, the rest of the dinner did not receive similar appreciation. She trifled over the chicken and rolls, but her absolute consumption came to so little, that she was forced t~ call in the friendly and willing assistance of a large cat, who was washing her paws in the depths of Con- stance's work-basket. With this aid, the dinner had been partially, at least, dis- patched, when Constance herself came back. Now was Mabel's time to tell her sister all the last night's history; hut, as she looked up, meaning to do so, she was startled l~y the pallid aspect of the face at which she gazed, and she forgot her own story in sudden anxiety. "What is the matter, dear?" she asked. "I never saw you look worse. Is it only because of the ball? Dissipation does not seem to agree with you." "It is only because lam a little tired, and my head aches," Constance answered. "Nothing much is the matter. Don't trouble about me." " Nobody ever does trouble about you,~~ said Mabel, a little indignantly; "and that is the reason why you fag yourself to death. My darling, you are the best one of us, and you bear all the burden. It seems so hard." "No; not hard at all," said Constance; but, nevertheless, she laid her head down right wearily on the soft shoulder 'that was near, as Mabel came aiA put her arms about her. Nobody knew how much of the pain and the weariness thoseclinging arms took away, nor how doubly hard a burden Con- stance would willingly have borne for this reward. The ~wo sisters were still standing to- gether, wl~ien there came another sharp tin- kle, and Mabel said, with a half-impatient sigh: "Mamma's bell again. 'Let me go this time, and do you stay here and take a cup of coffee." "No, no," said Constance. "You know inamma~does not like any one but me in her room, when she has these attacks. And, as for the coffee-I bad some at dinner. Let me go, dear." "If you will," said Mabel; but she kissed her before doing so. "You dear, dear sis- ter," she said. If I were ever so miserable in any other way, Constance, I don't think I should be utterly forlorn while .1 had you." "And you are the very sunlight of my life," said the other, passionately; and then she laughed a little. "We are growing quite sentimental; and I, at least, ought to be too old for that. Come, let me go. There is the bell again' Mabel let her go, but she took tip h& hat, and the volume of Browning, at the same moment. "If I am to be left alone," she said, "I am going into the garden. Will you come after mamma is done with you I" "I am afraid I cannot. She may want me again at any moment. Don't let' me keep you in, though. Only please don't go on the river to-day. I am a little uneasy about you. You are not used to such fa- tigue as that of last night." "But it agrees with me excellently. lElowever, I won't go on the river, if you say not. I can't stay here, though, and. face Nancy when she sees that onielet. Tell. mamma I am so sorry about her head- ache, and-" Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle! "Go, go," said Mabel, laughingly, as she pushed her sister toward the door. "Main- ma must be dreadfully impatient, or she would not ring in that way. Give her my love, and ccme to the garden, if you can." She waved her hand gayl~, and flitted out of the open door. The last thing Con- stance saw, as she herself left the room, was a flutter of the white dress among the green shrubs outside. An hour or two later Mr. Nowell came in, and found Constance sitting alone in her usual seat, busily engaged.in her usual work. She looked up as be entered, and gave him the same caution she had given Mabel. "Good-day, Francis. Don't make a noise, please. Mamma is very unwell." "Just as I expected," said Mr. Nowell, page: 86-87[View Page 86-87] with a little air of triumph. "I said from the first this would be the result of your island folly. And Mabel -is she sick, too?" "The farthest in the world from it," answered his cousin, smiling. "I never saw her look more blooming than she does to-day. And I really don't think the island folly, as you call it, had any thing to do with mamma's indispositions. It is just one of her usual headaches." "'It may boone of her usual headaches; but, no doubt, the exposure of last night gave it to her. I am glad to hear that M:a~- bel is well, for I was afraid- Whore is she? In bed yet?" "No. She came down an hour ago, and went into the garden. You will find her in the arbor, probably." "Won't you come with me?" "I believe not. I must be within hear- ing of mamma's bell." He went away without further apology, for he stood very little on ceremony in his aunt's house, and he was more anxious to see Mabel, and make some amends for his ungracious refusal of the night before, than he cared to acknowledge even to him- self. The remembrance of his hardness had tormented him unspeakably, and he went to seek her in a strangely softened mood-a mood which melted even his rugged face into something like gentleness. Constancel's swift needle had not trav- elled over more than one short seam, before he returned, looking vexed and disappointed. "You sent me on a bootless errand," he said. "She is not there." "Not there!" repeated Constance, won- deringly. "She must be there, for she is not in the house, and I am sure she has not gone out. You did not look well, Fran- cis.', "I went to the arbor first, and then walked round the garden," he answered. "If you don't call that looking well-But she is not there. l~erhaps she is up-stairs?" "No. I was in her room ten minnte0 ago. I assure you she went into the garden, and if she is not there she must have gone on the river. Yet that cannot be, for I asked hernot to do so." "I doubt if your asking would avail much, if Mr. Conway brought his boat and persuaded her." "Yes, it would. Mabel never broke a promise in her life; and she promised me not to go on the river this afternoon." "Promised?" "Yes; promised." "Humph I" said Mr. Nowell, dryly. "Come, and let us see." "As you please," she answered; "but I know I am right." She put aside her work, and went down the garden-path to the arbor. Mabel had been there, evidently, for a chair was drawn before the table, where the volume of Browning lay open, with. her handkerchief and one of the blush-roses marking the page. "She is near by somewhere," said Con- stance; "in the orchard, perhaps' And she sent her voice through the calm summer afternoon, with the clearness of a bell, call- ing again and again her sister's name, but no answer was returned. "Now come down to the steps," said Nowell, who had stood by silent. "Per- haps we may find some trace of her there, despite your incredulity." Constance shook her head; but shewent along with him, and they soon reached the landing-place, which was as silent and de- serted as the arbor. "Yousee," she said, triumphantly. A' Yes, I see," answered her cousin, quiet- ly, and he pointed to a mark on the wet sand, which had evidently been lately made by the prow of a boat." "You forget," said Constance, "the boat this morning. "That was never made by a twelve-oar boat," he replied, sharply. "It is the mark of a skiff; and, instead of being made this morning, it has been done within the last hour." "I scarcely think so." "Perhaps this will convince you, then," and, suddenly stooping down, he took up something which lay just at the foot of the steps, by the water's edge. Turning to Con- stauce, he placed it in her hand. It was one of the blush-roses. I 80 'MABEL LEE. A FAIRY FLITTING. 87 ing her until dark, and, when I found she did not come, it seemed scarcely worth while to CHAPTEI~ XV. send old Uncle Jack two miles to find out A FAIRY FLITTING. that she had stopped at Seyton House." "But why have you not sent this morn- "IT is very inconsiderate of Mabel to go ing?" off and stay in this manner. It shows very "Only because I mean to go myself. If little regard for my sufferings, and still less you want nothing just now, I will start at for my wishes. She knows that I quite dis- once." approve of her going to Seyton House with- "And Mabel may be coming along the out a chaperone, now that there are so river while you are on the road." many gentlemen there. I really think, Con- "Well, what shall I do, then? Oh, stance, that you might have interfered to here is Francis! I will send him. He prevent her doing so." won't mind taking a little trouble-will It was Mrs. Lee who spoke thus, in the you, Francis?" most fretful tone imaginiible, as she and "Will I what?" asked Mr. Nowell, en- Constance were taking breakfast at quite a tearing at the moment.-" Good-morning, late hour, on the second day after the ball, aunt. I am glad to see you down-stairs~ She had ~omewhat recovered from her ncr- Will I what, Constance?" vous headache, but had been fortunate "Will you set mamma's mind at rest by enough to find it replaced by an important going after Mabel?" grievance, in the shape of Mabel's non-ap- "What! Has not Mabel come home appearance since the evening before. She had yet?" been talking in a steady, querulous stream "No. She must have spent the night for some time. Now she stopped, and at Seyton House. I was going for her my- looked at her daughter, as if demanding an self; but mamma suggests I may miss her. answer. Now, if you will take a boat, and go-" "Indeed, mamma, I could not help it," "Of course I will," said Mr. Newell, Constance replied. "1 was occupied with quickly. "Why did you not let me know you, and Mabel went without telling me sooner? I would have gone last night, if 1 that she was going. had been aware that she did not return "But it is very strange. Don't you home. Did nobody see her leave?" think it is very strange that she has not re- "Nobody at all. But Nancy says she turned?" heard the arrival and departure of a boat, "I think it is a little strange," said Con- and a man's voice talking with Mabel; so stance; "but then Mabel must have had it must have been Mr. Conway, and she some good reason, we may be sure. No must have gone to Seyton House." doubt Mr. Conway came for her in the boat, "Yes," said Mr. Nowell. "But you and they went farther than they intended, ought to have let me know, nevertheless. and she wa~ obliged to stop at Seyton I will go at once." House. I am glad she had prudence enough He was turning to leave the room, when not to come home after dark. Constance suddenly gave an exclamation of "But she might have come home be- pleasure and relief. fore," said her mother, reasonably enough "Yonder is Mr. Conway now," she said. in substance, though far from reasonably in "Of course Mabel is with him. No-she tone. "And how do you know that she is not." is at Seyton House?" "Then he has come to let us know about "There is nowhere else for her to be." her," said Mrs. Lee. "You might have sent to inquire, at all And, as she spoke, Philip Conway crossed events, and spared me this anxiety, which the piazza, and stood in the open ddor. will end by bringing back my headache." "Good-morning, Mrs. Lee-Miss Con- "I would have sent, but I kept expect- stance," said he, advancing into the room, page: 88-89[View Page 88-89] 88 MABEL LEE. A FAIRY FLITTING. 89 and glancing quickly around, as he did so. "Mr. Nowehl, good-morning. I am glad to see, ladies, that you have not suffered from our dissipation. Miss Mabel is not indis- posed, I hope?" He was astonished at the singular effect which this simple question produced. There was an instant's silence, while cold upon the heart of each of his three hearers flashed the conviction that Mabel's absence, which had seemed to them a moment ago only "a little strange," was, in truth, unaccountable. They gazed at Conway without speaking; Mrs. Lee in bewildered surprise, Newell with stern scrutiny, and Constance with a startled and doubting look, that was quite inexplicable to him.. But she was the first to recover self-possession, and the very hor- ror of the undefined dread which had mo- mentarily seized her made her throw it off with incredulity. She forced a laugh, as she exclaimed, in a tone which, notwithstanding its cheerful- ness, was not quite steady: "I was just going to ask you about Ma- bel, Mr. Conway. Why did she not come with you? Mamma has been a little un- easy about her." It was Conway's turn to be stricken dumb with amaze and apprehension. "I do not understand," he said at last. "I have not seen Miss Mabel. Is she not at home?" "Did you not come for her yesterday afternoon? Is she not at Seyton House?" asked Constance, eagerly. "Certainly not. I have not seen her since yesterday morning!" Again there was a moment of blank si- lence, while glances of deepening astonish- ment and dismay were exchanged, and again Constance was the first to speak. By an ef- fort, she spoke with composure. "No wonder you are astonished, Mr. Conway. I suppose we are looking and act- ing very strangely. But we cannot help feeling a little uneasy about Mabel, now that we hear she is not at Seyton House. Are you sure she is not there?" she cried, suddenly. "Perhaps she told you jestingly to say she was not. But no; that is not 1lke-~." "What do you mean?" demanded Con- way, in great agitation. "Mabel left home yesterday afternoon, and has not yet returned. We thought, of course, that she had gone with you on the river, and stopped at Seyton House. She must have gonewith somebody else. Per- haps the Estons or Bradfords called at the landing, and persuaded her to go with them. Yes, she must have gone with them. It is very foolish of us to be alarmed in this way. -Francis, go and bring her home. It is foolish t~ be uneasy, but-" Mrs. Lee, who had sat as if paralyzed during the preceding minutes, recovered the power of speech, as she saw Nowell silently hurry out of the room to do Constance's bidding. "Oh, she is drowned I I am sure she is drowned!" she cried, in a shrill, excited tone. "You said you found that rose by the river. She is drowned. Oh, my poor child is drowned!" "What is that about the river?" de- manded Conway, growing very pale. "For God's sake, tell me!" Constance explained in a few words, while, unnoticed by either of her compan- ions, Mrs. Lee went off into something very nearly approaching to violent hysterics. "I see no reasonable cause for alarm," Conway said, in a tone which reassured Constance, although she observed how pale he had become. "No doubt she went on the. river with some of her friends, and, be- ing late, spent the night with them. She may cotue in any moment. Meanwhile, I will look for her. Tell me wI~tere to go." Constance ran over half~4ozen places quickly, to not one of whkt~ at another time, would she have considered it probable that Mabel had gone, and, almost before she finished, Conway disappeared. Then she called Nancy, and sent her in another direc- tion, while she herself ran down to the land- ing in the vague hope of seeing Mabel com- ing home. The deep, clear water made her shudder: and there was nothing to be seen, so she hastened back again into the house, and found her mother just issuing from the front door bonnetless and distracted. "I must go and look for my child," she cried, vehemently, as Constance, catchin~ her arm, tried to draw her back. "Let m go-I must look for her. 0 Mabel, Ma bel, where are you? Mabel, don't you hea: me? Mabel-" "Mammahush!" said Constance, am she drew her into the sitting-room by maiz force, for her voice had risen at the jas words into a scream, which rang shrilly uj and down the quiet village street. "Main ma, for Heaven's sake, don't! We are ~er~ foolish, I dare say. Mabel must be some where. She will be here presently-she h sure to come. Francis and Mr. Conway ar both looking fo# her, and-O Father Law- rence-" She broke off thus, as a shadow dark- ened the door, and a tall, spare man, in thc garb of a Catholic priest, caine hurriedly in- to the room. "My child," he said, "I met your cousin on the street a moment ago, and the news he told me has brought me at once-" "He has not found her then, father?" "No; but he was hurrying on to the Bradt'ords, hoping she might be there. My dear child, I trust you are not seriously alarmed, for it seems tome that the cause for fear is very slight." "But it is so unlike Mabel, father." "We cannot say that. No exigency of the sort has ever occurred before-that is all. We cannot judge; but I see your mother is quite overcome." "Speak to her, father. See if you can reassure her." The good priest-for no one could look in his face an~ meet his sweet, calm glance, without feelld~oure that he was good- drew near, an4 bent over Mrs. Lee, who lay on the sofa. "My child," he said, "my poor child, look up. You are very prema- ture in this excess of grief. God is very good to ~us, and never tries us beyond our strength. I think Mabel will return. I hope she will soon be in your arms. But, meanwhile, try to make an act of resigna- tion, and leave her to Him; try to remem- ber__" The cliok of the front gate at that mo- ment made Constance spring to her feet. The next instant she had left the room and met Nowell in the hail. His face told at a once that his search had been fruitless. "Well?" she gasped. r "I can hear nothing of her," ho an- swered; "and I have been to every prob- I able house in town. Call Nancy at once, i and let me hear her story of the boat she heard." "Nancy is not here now; I sent her out - also. I would have gone myself, but main- ma-ah, there she is now!" There was another click of the gate as she spoke, and Nancy came up the walk shaking her head dismally after the manner of her kind. "No news, ~ "Nobody has seed or heard a thing of her, ma'ain. A great many of the gentle- * men said they was coming to help look for her, ma'am-but Mr. Nowell, he told 'em * not-and the sweet child may be dead and drownded-" "Hold your tongue! "said Nowell, short~ ly. "Yes, I told them not to come. Ma- bel is certainly not lost in that way. Now tell me quickly and distinctly what you know about a boat coming yesterday.after- noon." "I knows no moi-e 'an I does know,~~ said Nancy, sullenly. She could not bear Newell, and, even when her heart was wrung with grief, the dislike came over her at his peremptory tone. "I heard a boat -that was all." "But what did you see?" "I never seed nothing." "What did you hear, then? Be quick about it!" "Tell every thing, Nancy, for Heaven's sake!" said Constance. So adjured, Nancy told all, which was briefly this: She had been ironing in the kitchen, the afternoon before, and, ds her table was just placed under an open window, she had heard the arrival of a boat at the landing-place. A little while after she wa~ crossing the yard to hang out some clothes, and then she caught the sound of voices in the arbor, one of which was Mabel's, and the other that of a man. Here Newell in- terrupted her. Did she recognize the man's voice? No; she did not recognize it at aU. page: 90-91[View Page 90-91] 90 MABEL LEE. CONFLICTING EVIDENCE. 91 It was not like anybody's voice she knew; but then she didn't pretend to know many folks. Was it like Mr. Conway's? Nancy could not say, knowing nothing about Mr. Conway's voice. Well, what kind of talk- ing did it seem to be? Very well pleased, as far as she could judge. She heard them both laugh several times; and, the window being open, she heard Miss Mabel's voice when they were going down to the boat. Did she hear what they said? No, not a word, only a murmur of laughing and talk- ing, and after a while the rattle of a chain, as the boat was unfastened, and the -sound of oars in the water-that was all. Noth- ingelse? Nothing else at all. "You may go, then," said Mr. Nowell; and, after she was gone, tossing her head in high offence, he looked steadily and silently at Constance. "What is it, Francis?" she asked. "For Heaven's sake, speak! Any thing is better than this." "Do you want to hear my opinion, Con- stance?" "Yes, yes-you know I do." "It is that the viper you have been nursing among you all has stung you at last. The man you have trusted has betrayed you, as I told you, from the first, it was in him to betray." "Do you mean Mr. Conway?" "Who else should I mean? Who else would Mabel accompany in the way you have heard described?" "But, my God !-what do you suspect him of? "How can I tell? I am not a villain, and I cannot read a villain's heart. He may have carried her off to marry her, and es- tablish a claim on Mr. Seyton-or he may have murdered her to put her out of his way." "Hush, hush!" cried Constance, ex- tending her hand with a gesture of horror. "0 Francis, that you can be so cruelly un- just! You saw him when he heard the news;~ you saw his astonishment, his agita- tion-he could not have simulated it." "I believe that he could simulate any thing. I believe that he has carried off Mabel, and, by the God above us, if I find even so much as a shadow of proof against him-" "Rush!" cried Constance again, and there was a tone of almost solemn command in her voice. "This is no time for such threats. Who cares for proof against him? Find her for me, Francis-" and the voice changed to a wail of agony-" you do not mean that any serious harm has befallen her?" He took her by the shoulders and put her out of his path without a word. Then, as he was going, he turned and looked back at her. "You pray to God," he said. "I go to find her." -4--- CHAPTER XVI. CONFLICTING EvIDENCE. TWENTY-FOUR hours later, it was a very weary and worn-out group of men who as- sembled in Mr. Seyton's library, where Mr. Seyton himself sat, pale and haggard, with the wan, stricken aspect of an old man, under the sudden grief that had fallen upon him. After twenty-four hours of constant search, not a trace of Mabel Lee had been discovered; and the searchers now as- sembled after their fruitless exertions to consult concerning what steps were to be taken next. Besides Mr. Seyton, Philip Conway was the only sitting figure; but he, who until now had not taken a moment's rest since he first heard the news of Mabel's disappear- ance, was so utterly exhausted- that he had flung himself half unconsciously into a chair as soon as he entered the apartment, and sat in an attitude of profound dejection-his head drooped, his eyes fixed on the floor, and apparently heedless of all around. Near him stood Ainslie, slowly drawing off a pair of riding-gloves, and listening the while at- tentively to Mr. Blake, who was briefly de- tailing the failure of his efforts, though he had spent the day and the night in the sad- dle-a fact which was at once very evident, for his boots were splashed with mud, his clothes covered with dust, and his usually ruddy and genial face, hollow and overcast. :Next to him Francis Nowell stood, leaning on the back of a tall chair, in the seat of which he had thrown his hat-a riding- whip still in his hand, and his eyes fastened steadily and ominously on the unheeding Conway. He, too, showed unmistakable traces of the wear and tear of physical fa- tigue and mental suffering; and even his friends might scarcely have recognized in his haggard face and sunken eyes the man they were accustomed to see. The only one of the group whose appearance had not al- tered in the least, but who seemed quite his usual self, with a shade, perhaps, of ad- ditional solemnity, was Mr. harding, whose head and shoulders loomed up behind Mr. Seyton's chair. He had made some pre- tence of joining in the search the day be- fore; but had returned to the house in the evening, and spent the night quietly in bed. "There is no trace or clew whatever, sir," said Blake, "excepting the confused story of a boat, which Mrs. Lee's cook tells. Miss Constance thinks that her. sister must have fallen into the river; and the Ayre people are dragging the stream. But, for my part-" "It is sheer folly!" broke in Nowell, sternly. "They must be made to think that Mabel could fall into the river. Let them drag it if they choose; but it is not there-it is not in the river-that she must be sought." "The matter is so unaccountably ulyste- rious," said Ainslie, "that it is almost im- possible to decide on our next course of ac- tion. If we had only the faintest clew to guide us-but I am afraid the cook's story does not furnish one." "That remains to be seen," said Nowell, speaking in the same repressed voice as before, and coming forward to the table round which they were all grouped. "The cook's story proves this much," he went on, emphatically, "that some boat did arrive on that afternoon, and that Mabel accom- panied some person or persons on the river. What we liave to do is to find that boat, and that person or those persons.~~ "Well?" said Mr. Seyton, in the tone of " go ~ "1 will begin, sir, by asking you to ac- count for your own boat, which is the one most likely to have been used, and by requesting these gentlemen "-he looked round the table at Mr. Seyton's three guests -"to be kind enough to tell us how they were engaged on that afternoon." "Upon my-word, Mr. Nowell," said Mr. Harding, flushing up suddenly, "do you mean to insult us, sir?" "Hush, Harding!" said Mr. Ainslie, quickly. "This question is a mere form.-I quite agree with you, Mr. Nowell," he went on, turning to the young lawyer who stood before him. "Of course it is best to do so. Shall we begin with the boat, or with our- selves?" "The boat is not here, and you are," answered :Nowell, briefly. "We will waste no time, if you please, but begin with your- selves.-Mr. Seyton, will you conduct the examination?" Mr. Seyton started, for he had sunk into abstraction, and looked up, as if sur- prised. "Certainly," he said. "But it seems scarcely worth while-Philip is the only one who would have been likely to go for her, and Philip spent the afternoon with me." - "Begging your pardon, sir," said Mr. Blake, abruptly. "You forget that I called to see you, and that you lost sight of Mr. Conway for some time, while we sat on the piazza." "But he was in this room. I left him here when I went out, and found him when I returned." "Can you vouch for his presence during that interval, sir?" "Blake !-What do you mean?" "I mean, sir," said Blake, with a cer- tain dignity in his tone and manner, "that this is no time for mincing matters, and that Mr. Nowell and I are both of one mind- there's been black work here of some sort or other, and if Mr. Conway does not wish to be suspected, he had better lift up his head and clear himself at once." The honest, indignant voice rang through the room fearlessly, and Conway lifted his head quickly enough. At first his face mdi- page: 92-93[View Page 92-93] MABEL LEE. CONFLICTING EVIDENCE. eated only profQund. astonishment, but as he met the looks of dark suspicion with which Blake and :l{owell were regarding him, he rose and stood confronting them-amaze- ment, incredulity, indignation, rage, and scorn, chasing each other in quick succes- sion over his countenance. He seemed for a moment incapable of speech, but con- tinued to gaze at the two men with eyes literally blazing with passion, while the large veins rose and stood out like cords upon his clear, dark forehead. Shocked by the accusation just made, Mr. Seyton was about to interfere, but be- fore he had time to speak, Conway recov- ered self-possession and anticipated him. Unconsciously, perhaps, he drew himself up, and threw back his head, while the glance which was fixed on Blake's eyes grew colder but more menacing. His whole airy and his voice, when he spoke, were' different from his usual manner. Haughty and grave, he looked as he felt-the gentle. man addressing his inferior. "Did I hear you mention my name a moment ago, in a most extraordinary way?" he said, in a tone so quiet that every one present felt the slight but sensi- ble thrill with which we listen to that low moaning of the wind which always pre- cedes the burst of a tempest's fury. Mr. Harding turned a little pale, and shrank in- stinctively behind his uncle's chair. But Blake did not flinch. "Yes, Mr. Conway," he was commen- cing, when Mr. Seyton stopped him. '~ Not a word more, Blake!" he ex- claimed, the first real anger he had ever felt toward his faithful friend flashing in his eyes. "t~ou insult me, not less than my nephew, by the infamous accusation which you dare to suggest.-My dear boy," he continued, rapidly, looking up at Conway, "forgive him, for the sake of the motive which prompts his zeal." Before either Blake or Conway could reply, Noweil laid his hand on the table, and addressed Mr. Seyton. - "Sir," he said, in a grave and measured tone, "I respect your feelings; I am sorry to shock them-by what I am about to say. But I must be heard: My cousin, whose nearest relative and natural protector I am, has suddenly and mysteriously disappeared from her home. I believe, and so does Mr. Blake, that she was either forcibly abducted or treacherously wiled away by this man he pointed sternly to Conway. "It is right that you should hear a detail of the circum- stances upon which this belief is based, and that he should have the opportunity of prov- ing our suspicions to be unfounded before I formally make\ the charge against him at a legal tribunal. The following are the facts which I have gathered, and upon which my accusation rests: First-Mabel has, for more than a month past, been in the habit of going on the river almost every afternoon with this man; on no single occasion has she gone with any one else. Secondly- Frank Eston and his sister heard her make an engagement to go boating with him on the afternoon in question, as they parted at daylight, when returning from the ball. Frank and Miss Eston will both testify to this on oath. Thirdly-Mrs. Lee's servant heard a boat come to the landing at the very time named when the engagement was made; heard a man's voice laughing and tallying with Mabel in the arbor; heard this voice and Mabel's own, talking as they went down the garden-walk to the river; and heard the clink of the chain when the boat was unfastened. Shortly afterward, I my- self, together with her sister, saw the mark of the boat on the sand at the landing, and just beside this mark I found a flower which Constance recognized as one of a cluster worn by Mabel that afternoon. An- other one of the same flowers was lying in an open book which she had been reading in the arbor. Lastly-By Mr. Blake's tes- tiinony and your own admission, you lost sight of Mr. Conway during a considerable part of the afternoon-fully two hours and a half, Blake thinks-during which time he could easily have taken the boat from her mooring at the foot of the blufl' gone to Mrs. Lee~s landing, and persuaded my cous- in to fulfil the engagement she had made, returning in time to be in the library when you re~ntered it. What were the motives influencing him, and how he has disposed of Mabel, I pretend not even to conjecture. Here are facts, and I ask what Mr. Conway has to say regarding them?" "That your suspicion is not so inexcus- able as I thought before hearing the circum- stantial evidence in support of it, and eon- sequently I will endeavor to satisfy you, Mr. Nowell, that in this case, as in many others, circumstantial evidence is mislead- in&' answered Mr. Conway, in his usual frank inauner. He had listened to Nowell, *as had Mr. Seyton, with a surprise which soon transcended every other emotion, ac- knowledging mentally that the young law- yer was not merely excusable but perfectly justified in entertaining a suspicion which wore such a plausible appearance. As he thought thus, his brow relaxed from the heavy frwn that contracted it, the expres- sion of his face grew clear and open, and he continued in his natural tone of voice: "Your information concerning the en- gagement made by Miss Mabel Lee to go boating with me is perfectly correct. I mentioned this engagement that morning at breakfast, as you, sir, may remember?" He turned to Mr. Seyton. "Certainly!" answered the latter. "My uncle," proceeded Conway, "ob- jected to my taking Miss Mabel out that day, saying that, after the fatigue of the night before, she ought to rest. He even desired that I would not call upon her. He was going to send Anderson to Ayre in the afternoon, he said, and would tell him to stop at Mrs. Lee's and inquire how the la- dies were. And he added that, if I was concerned at breaking my engagement, An- derson could take my apologies to Miss Ma- bel." Again lie turned to Mr. Seyton, who said, mournfully: "Yes, I remember. Would to God I had let you go!" And Conway knew, from the tone as well as the words, that there did not exist in his uncle's mind a shade of distrust toward him. As I was leaving the breakfast-room," he went on, "I met Anderson, and request- ed him to come to me for a note which I wished to send to Ayre, when hewent there in the afternoon, and accordingly he' came to me in the library at the time that my uncle was occupied with Mr. Blake.-You, Mr. Nowell, have adduced the statement of Mrs. Lee's servant, that she heard a boat at the landing in her mistress's garden, a man's voice, and the departure of Miss Mabel. I will prove to you on equally reliable testi- mony, that of my uncle's valet, that I was in this room a very short time before my uncle returned to it from the piazza, and that he, Anderson, saw Miss Mabel Lee af- ter he had discharged the errand that took him to Ayre-having called at Mrs. Lee's, he assured me, just before he left town to return home-at least an hour after he left me here in the library.-With your permis- sion, sir, I will ring for Anderson." Mr. Seyton nodded his head, Conway rang, and Anderson, whose business it was to answer the library-bell, soon made his appearance, and approached the group sur- rounding his master, with a very solemfi and rather startled expression of counte- nance. "Anderson," said Conway, quietly-for he wished to put the man at hisease-" An- derson, do you remember what time it was when you saw Miss Mabel Lee, on Thursday afternoon?" "Yes, sir," was the prompt reply. "I called at Mrs. Lee's the last thing before I left town, and it was just six o'clock. I heard the town clock striking while I was waiting in the garden for Miss Mabel to an~ swer your note." "You are sure it was six o'clock?" said his master. "I'm sure of it, sir. I counted every strike of the clock, for Mr. Jones wasn't at home when I went to his office, and-" "Never mind about Jones. Might you not have been mistaken in counting the clock?" "No, sir; I know I wasn't mistaken. I noticed particular about the time, because, if you recollect, sir, you told me to hurry and get back, if I could, before Mr. Blake left, so that he could hear what Mr. Jones said. I started fromhere just a little before five. When I come for Mass Phil's note I looked at the clock there, and it wanted ten minuteS to five; and I know I thought I could ride fast, and git back by six, but I MABEL LEE. page: 94-95[View Page 94-95] 94 MABEL LEE. CONFLICTING EVIDENCE. 95 had to run about so before I could find Mr. Jones that it was six when I got to Mrs. Lee's." "And you ~ Mr. Seyton's voice failed. He could not pronounce the name of his lost darling. He cleared his throat, and said, "Whom did you see first at Mrs. Lee's?" "I saw Miss Constance first, sir. She was coming down-stairs, as I went up the front walk. She come to the front door to meet me, and after I had asked how they all was, I handed her the note for Miss Ma- bel. She took it, and then she give it back to me, and told me to go on through the house into the garden and that I would find Miss Mabel in the arbor. I went and found her there, and give her the note, and, after she read it, she star ted to go in the house to answer it. I told her I was in a great hurry, and asked her not to be long, if she pleased, and she laughed and said, 'Well, if you're in such a hurry, Anderson, I'll just tear a leaf out of this book and write with a pencil; but you must be sure and tell your Mass Phil that it's not my fault I send him such a note.' So she tore out a leaf and wrote on it, and told me to be sure and not lose it, and not to let anybody but Mass Phil see it. And then I hurried home." "And you counted the clock striking six while you were in the garden?" "Yes, sir. While Miss Mabel was writ- ing the note." "You rode to Ayre?" asked Newell. "Yes, sir. I went a-horseback!~~ "There is one place on the road where there is a very good view of the river, just this side of town, you know. Did you no- tice the river-if there were any boats on it?" "No, sir. I didn't notice the river go- ing or coming. I was in a hurry both times, and was looking straight before me all the time." * "That will do," saidhis master, and An- derson retired. * As soon as the door closed on his exit, Mr. Sexton raised himself in his chair with a look of mere energy than he had yet ex- hibited. "I hope, Mr. Newell and Mr. Blake," he said, in a tone of cold displeas- ure, "that you are now satisfied. Ander- son's word would not be received in a court of justice, it is true, but if your acumen does not go so far as to suspect my nephew or myself of suborning his evidence, perhaps you may give it the same credit which you accord to that of Mrs. Lee's cook, who is also ineligible in law as a witness; and if, further, you do not suspect me of collusion with my nephew in the commission of the crime of which you have accused him, you may possibly accept my testimony as cor- roborating what Anderson says relative to time. It happened that, as I am not fond of business, and Blake was talking of busi- ness all the while he was with me, I looked at my watch repeatedly. I had it in my hand when Anderson came to me for the message he was to take to Ayre. It was, then fifteen minutes before five o'clock. My watch and that timepiece "-he pointed to the clock over the mantel-" generally run very well together. Saying that I de- tained Anderson five minutes giving him my directions, and I think that was about the length of time thus occupied, he. would have entered the room precisely at ten min- utes to five, as he said. And half an hour afterward, by my watch, Blake took leave, and I came in from the piazza. That is to say, at twenty minutes after five I found my nephew where I had left him an hour and three-quarters before, for Blake is mis- taken in his estimate of the time spent in the piazza; I looked at my watch when I left the room and when I returned. There was an interval of one hour and three-quar- ters only. And from twenty minutes after five o'clockuntil bedtime, Philip was not out of my presence. If you do not reject An- derson's testimony, and will bear in mind that he saw my goddaughter at six o'clock, you must acknowledge, Mr. Nowell, that it proves an alibi." Nowell and Blake exchanged glances. Neither of them entertained a shade of doubt as to the truth of Anderson's state- merit. An alibi was proven-Mat they could not dispute. It was clear that Con- way had not been himself the active agent in Mabel's'abduotion or elopement; but not the less wOre they confident of' his guilt. His astonishment when the charge was made, and the candor with which he after- ward admitted that circumstances afforded some ground for suspicion, they considered only a part of the plot-a specimen, perhaps, of his powers of dissimulation. After a momentary pause, Nowell spoke, in a tone as cold as Mr. Seyton's own. We accept Andersen's testimony, sir. It proves an alibi, undoubtedly," h6 said. "If you do not object, I will, as a matter of form "-he laid a slightly ironical empha- sis on the last words-" ask a few questions of yourself and these other gentlemen before we go to examine the boat. Mr. Conway, it seems, spent the afternoon and evening with yourself. Were Mr. Ainslie and Mr. Harding also with you?" "Mr. Ainslie was on the terrace all the afternoon, I understand. Cyril was riding and came in about dark, or a little after. We all spent the evening together." "You were on the terrace all the after- noon, Mr. Ainslie I" "I was, though I don't know that I can produce~ any witnesses to the fact," Ainslie answered, quietly. "The terrace commands a view of the river for some distance up and down. You would have noticed any boats passing, I suppose?" "I think so. I cannot say with cer- tainty that none passed, for I was reading, and, being thus occupied, they might have escaped observation. But I think that any movement on the river would have attract- ed my attention." "I hope Mr. Harding will not consider himself insulted, if I ask him where he spent the afternoon." "I spent it riding," said Mr. Harding. "Riding? That is rather indefinite. Riding where?" "Really, Mr. Nowell, I am not accus- tomed-" "Tell him and be done with it, Cyril," interrupted his uncle, sharply. "But it is impossible for me to tell him!" cried Mr. Harding, indignantly. "I hardly know myself. I felt badly, and I thought a ride might help me, so I had a horse saddled and set out. I went some considerable dis- tance, and was late getting back-that is all." "But you surely know the direction you took?" "I took the high-road leading to Ayre, but after a while I struck into the woods, skirted some fields, rode along the river bank, and came back by a large mill I hope that is sufficiently explicit!" "Bat did you meet no one?" "I met a good many people, but 1 knew~ none of them. Good Heavens! Mr. Newell, surely I am the last person in the world you would connect with such a matter as this! What possible concern could I have with Miss Lee? And as for her going on the river with me, I'd hardly have been likely to ask her, after the manner in which she treated my last invitation." "I do not suspect you in the least, Mr. Harding, but you ought to clear yourself from even a shadow of doubt." "What doubt can there be? Everybody knows that for weeks past I have scarcely seen Miss Lee. It seems to me that my cousin Philip is the only one likely to know any thing of her movements, considering, at least, that I overheard a declaration of love which he made to her the night of the ball." Mr. Sexton started' and looked up at Conway inquiringly. "It is true," his nephew responded to that look, "though I did not expect that you would hear in this way, or that my worthy cousin had been playing the eaves- 'dropper." His eyes, full of eloquent scorn, glanced from the face of Mr. Seyton to the smooth visage at his shoulder, and then back again. "For a month past," he con- tinued, meeting his uncle's gaze steadily, "I have been aware that you saw and dis- countenanced my admiration for your god- dai~ghter. I knew, or thought I knew, that it would be useless to attempt to obtain your approval of my suit; and I felt that you might, not unreasonably, condemn my con- duct if I persisted in prosecuting it, with tl~e full knowledge that her family and you your- self would never consent to her marrying me. I determined to leave Seyton House, to re~ page: 96-97[View Page 96-97] TENDER SUSrICION. 97 96 MABEL LEE. tuin to Europe; and I should have left more than a week ago, had not Mabel, one day when I mentioned my intention to her sister and herself, asked, as a personal favor, that I would remain until after the ball. Very reluctantly I consented to delay my de- parture, resolving to guard every word and look in r~y association with her. I would willingly have abjured her society altogether, but it was impossible to do this without exciting her own wonder and the remark of others. Therefore, I could only avoid it partially. But I adhered strictly to my resolution, until the night of the ball. On that evening I met her in the belief that I saw her for the last time, for I designed leaving the next day, and meant to take no formal farewell of her," he paused a moment, and his hitherto pale cheek flushed crimson. "The excitement of the .hour "-he went on hurriedly-"the thought of the approach- ing separation-overcame my self-control. I was wrong - that I acknowledge, sir. But; before you condemn me utterly, re- member what the temptation was, and how long I had resisted it." 'Mr. Sexton had listened with evident emotion while his nephew spoke. To his ear, at least, the recital, both in manner and matter, had in it the ring of truth. And, "thought, quick-winged as lightning," filled in the bare outline sketched by Con- way of the 'struggle maintained with a temptation the strength of which he, of all men, could best understand. . The memory of his own love for one who was the pro- totype ~f Mabel, came so vividly upon him, that he was obliged to steady hi~ voice for a moment before answering. "Yes, you were wrong," he said, gently; "and a man who himself has never strug~ gled with and been conquered by passion might condemn you. I am not that man~ I forgive you freely." H~ extended his hand, and pressed warm ly the one which so eagerly grasped his own Conway was deeply affected by his uncle'~ generous trust and sympathy, and his voic faltered a little as he continued: "I ought to have told you at once ol this, and so I intended. But one triflin~ circumstance after another prevented m~ speaking to you in private, until just before Mr. Blake caine in. At the moment that ho entered the library I was about to tell you." "I recollect," said Mr. Sexton, "your asking if I would give you my attention, as you bad something to say to me, and I re- member being struck by your manner. This, then, was the communication you were about to make?" "It was. I-" He stopped. The color, which had a moment before rushed to his face, as quick- ly disappeared. A sudden faint sickness came over him, objects grew dim before his sight, and he hastily sat down. lie had not tasted food for twenty-four hours, but it was not physical exhaustion which thus af- fected him. The soft summer air, entering the room through the windows, bore with it a sound that caused all of the group of men, even the solemnly phlegmatic Mr. Harding, to shudder involuntarily. Mr. Seyton bent his head forward, and covered his eyes with one hand, while the haggard face of Nowell became, if possible, more rigid and colorless than before. Dulled by distance, but yet perfectly distinct, and bit- terly significant to the ear, came the report of a heavy volley of musketry. At the earliest dawn, crowds of the town and coun- try people of Ayre and its vicinity, had gathered along the bank of the river, drag- ging it all the way from Mrs. Lee's landing to the island-a distance of more than a mile-but to no purpose. Something over thirty-six hours having elapsed since the time at which it was supposed that Mabel might have been drowned, they were now firing into the stream, to the end that the vibration of the water, following the concus- sion so produced, might cause the body to rise to the surface. As Ayre did not pos- sess even a single field-piece, volleys of musketry were substituted for the boom of cannon, but these volleys were so heavy that, the day being unusually still, they were distinctly audible at Seyton House. Nowell was the first to recover himself, and there was a tone less of harshness in his voice as he said, "We will go and examine ; the boat!" lie did not believe that Mabel ~ was drowned-indeed, he scoffed at the idea; I and would not have hesitated a moment to stake his own life on the opposite opin- ion; he was mentally anathematizing the people who were, he considered, "ma fools of themselves," by prosecuting their search for her body, as he led the way to where the boat was made fast-but yet that sullen boom, boom, now recurring at short intervals, realized to him with fresh inten- sity the terrible fact that .31a&el 'was miesin~, and seemed to his heart, though not to his mind, like volleys over her grave. CHAPTER XVII. U2~DER 5U5PICIO~. THEY fSund the boat moored at the foot of the bluff', where the servants who were called up said it had been ever since the ball, and that after that night it had not, to their knowledge, been used until Mr. Con- way went to Ayre on the morning of the second day. "You see as how we was all monstrous tired, sir," said Austin, "and pretty nearly everybody got enough of rowin' the night be- fore. I'd take my Bible oath on it that none. of the white folks touched her, sir; and I'm still more s4rtain that none of the black ones did." "You are perfectly sure of this?" "As sure as if it was the last word I ever spoke, sir." "I hope you are satisfied, Nowell," said Mr. Seyton, wearily. "No, sir! I shall never be satisfied un- til I have laid open the whole devilish plot," Nowell answered.-" Mr. Ainslie, the boat might have been entered here, and, by keep- ing close along the bank under the willows, h&ve effectually eluded your observation from the terrace." "Perhaps so," said Ainslie, "for I con- fess I paid very little attention to the river, or to any thing else, for that matter, on the afternoon in question." "Come, Blake," said Nowell, abruptly, "we are wasting time. We will take the boat and go at once to Ayre " lie ceased speaking, and stood still in the "I act of stepping into the boat, for at this mo- ment a breathless servant came running up. "Please, sir, there's some gentlemen to see you," he panted, addressing his master; "and they say as how they've. got some pa'tic'Iar news for you." News! What a sharp pang-half of hope, half of fear-went through the hearts of three at least of the group of men! They looked at each other for one instant, saw the same thought flash into the eyes of each, and turned swiftly and silently toward the housed The three others followed; the three whose thoughts were known only to themselves and to God-and it chanced that Mr. Harding walked alone, while Ainslie and Conway brought up the rear together. "Phil," said the former, after a mo- meat's silence, "I detest half-confidences. You never told me about any declaration; on the contrary, you expressly said that you had no intention of making one." "No, Idid not tell you," Conway an- swered, "principally because I saw the folly of it so plainly that I did not care to hear an echo of my own thoughts from you. Be- sides, I had not time. It was all so unex- pected. I committed myself before I knew what I was about, the other night, andthen -but what is the good of talking of it? I never knew how dear she was to me until now-now, when I cannot tell whether she is dead or alive, but when I would give up every hope of fortune, and live to the end of my existence a slave and a drudge, only to see her beside me again!" Ainslie looked at him intently-looked at him, as it seemed, a little curiously. "I think you mean it-for the time," be said, after a moment. "I mean it for any time, and all time," answered the other. "And I only wish I might be taken at my word. You should never hear me complain if I had to hew wood or draw water for my daily food. And yet these miserable fools really suspect me of having made away with her." "I wonder what they suppose your ~b- ject to have been?" "The devil only knows! I suppose, ikE the first ~plaee, they pitched upon me as a subject of suspicion, because of their great Ii page: 98-99[View Page 98-99] 98 MABE: good-will toward me. Though," he added, with gloomy indifference, "that lawyer made out a pretty strong case against me, if I had not been able to prove an alibi. I don't blame him for suspecting me under such circumstances, but I do think he is a fool not to be convinced of his mistake, af- ter all that he has heard." "He is blinded by jealousy. There is some excuse for him in that fact. Now, Phil, don't let his example infect you. Don't lose your head and your temper, as you came very near doing a while ago. Keep cool, whatever they say. Their accu- sations can do you no harm in the end; and ~Towell, as Miss Lee's cousin, has a claim on your forbearance. As to that fellow Blake, not being a gentleman, he is beneath your resentment." "Yes," said Conway, listlessly. "Ah I" he cried, the moment after, with an energy and passion so new to him that his friend was quite startled-" ah! I am not think- ing of their preposterous accusation, but of Iter / Ralph, tell me what you think?" he went on in a tone of great agitation. "You do not believe it possible, do you, that she could have been-could have fallen into the river? ". Ainslie hesitated. "It is hard to say," he replied at last, "but I-am inclined to think so." "I do not, I cannot believe it," said Conway, passionately. "I go with Nowell that far. I think that she has been ab- ducted!" and he glanced with a dark frown at Harding, who was just disappearing through the library-door, a little in advance of them. Ainslie shook his head. "He may be knave enough, but I doubt if he has nerve enough, for such a business." "We shall see I I am determined to find her, and I think Nowell is not less so. Between us, we shall succeed, sooner or later." Ainslie had no time to reply, for at that moment they entered the library, where quite a number of gentlemen 'were assem- bled. Governor Eston was speaking. "The man to whom I allude," he said, "an entirely honest and respectable man, L. LEE. named Jacob Stone, declares, and is willing to. testify on oath, that, as he was coming home in his boat shortly before sunset, on Thursday afternoon, he passed a skiff con- taining Mabel Lee and a man whose face he did not see, but whose figure reminded him very much of-" He paused suddenly on perceiving Con- way in the open door before him; and, as he paused, the latter stepped forward. "Finish your sentence, sir, I beg," he said. "Of whom did the figure remind him?" The governor bowed with very stately but rather stiff courtesy. "I regret to say," he answered, "that it was of yourself, Mr. Conway." "And he is willing to testify that, on oath?" "No; he expressly says that he is cer- tain only of Mabel's identity. He did not catch even a glimpse of the face of her com- panion, but he took it for granted that it was yourself. And he remarked, what has often struck others, that a great similarity exists in the figures of you three gentle- men." "And is he certain that it was one of them?" asked Mr. Kowell. The governor hesitated before replying, but after a while he spoke slowly: ~ he said. "He is absolutely cer- tain that it was one of them." "In what direction was the boat going? Where did he pass them?" asked Mr. Sey- ton? "It seems to me that is of far more importance that any thing else." "They were coming in this direction, and he passed them a short distance below Morford's Landing. It is very terrible and very strange, Mr. Seyton-we scarcely know what to think. Ayre is more excited than I ever remember it to have been; and the whole town is busily engaged in drag- ging the river. But this information entire- ly sets at rest the question of her having been drowned." "It sets at rest the question of acciden- tal drowning," said one of the othergentle- men, "but, if she was murdered, her body would most probably have been thrown into the river." I UNDER SUSPICION. 99 A K "Pray, my good sir, spare us," said' the governor quickly, for he saw how whit~ and shuddering Mr. Sexton looked, as he sat down in his chair. "1 hope all may yet be well, but-Mr. Nowell, are you leaving?" "Yes," said Nowell, as he took up his hat, and turned toward the door. "I am going to Morford's Landing.-Good-morn- big, Mr. Sexton. I will see you soon again. -Good-morning, gentlemen." "Mr. Ainslie," said Mr. Blake, "are you coming with me ?-or is it you, Mr. Hard- ing?" "Does not Mr. Conway take any part in the search?" asked the governor, signifi- cantly, as his glance turned on Conway, who stood apart from the rest. "He was in the saddle all night," began Ainslie; but, before he could say more, Con- way advanced into the centre of the room, until he stood beside Mr. Sexton's chair. Then, facing the entire grdup, he spoke for himself: "I understand the suspicion with which ~ou all regard me," he said, "and the man- ner in which you have juaged and con- demned me while in profound ignorance of any thing save the fact that Miss Lee has disappeared. Why this is so, only your- selves can tell. Mr. Nowell had indeed strung together a somewhat plausible-look- ing array of 'suspicious circumstances,' but I proved to him, in a manner to satisfy any reasonable mind, that I was here in this very room during the whole of the after- noon upon which Miss Lee disappeared. Moreover, I can prove, by my cousin, Mr. Harding, who has already done me the fa- vor to testify to the fact "-he could not quite repress an intonation of sarcasm in his voice-" that I proposed to and was ac- cepted by Miss Mabel Lee on the night of the ball. How any sane man could suspect me of abducting or murdering the woman who was my affianced wife, it passes my powers of imagination to conceive. That-" "Excuse me," interrupted Mr. Harding, at this point, to the surprise of Conway himself, and that of his whole audience.-.-. 'excuse me, Philip, if I correct what is no doubt an inadvertent mistake on your part, but which I feel it right to rectify. I did not testify to the fact of your having proposed to and been accepted by Miss Mabel Lee, but only to your having made a declaration of love to her. It was by the merest chance that I overheard this declaration, and I hur- ried away without waiting to hear her re- ply. 1 was looking for her to return her fan, which had come into my possession by accident, but when I heard your-that is, the subject of your-conversation, I did not wish to intrude my presence upon you, and so I retired at once." "Ah, I comprehend I" said Conway, scornfully. "You mean to insinuate that, though I offered myself, I was not ac- cepted?" "No," answered Mr. Harding, hastily, growing very red, and speaking with some indignation-" no; I mean to insinuate no such thing! I only corrected the mistake and made the explanation, because you spoke as if-as if you thought my hearing the conversation between Miss Lee and yourself was intentional." Conway did not reply to this speech, but, taking out a russian-leather pocket-book, he extracted thence a small folded paper, and addressed Mr. Seyton. "Hero is the note which Anderson brought to me on Thursday afternoon. Will you read it, sir, and satisfy whomsoever it may concern, whether Miss Lee was engaged to me ~r not?~~ Mr. Seyton took the note, but, before he' had time to read it, he was interrupted by the entrance of Anderson, who, hastily ap.. preaching him, said: "Mr. Martin's out here, sir, and wants to see you. I told him you was busy and couldn't be disturbed, but he says he's got something to tell you, and, if you can't see him, will Mr. Blake come there directly?" "Bring him in at once," said Mr. Soy- ton, with mingled eagerness and apprehen- sion. And he laid the 'paperwhicl.i Conway had given him on the table at his side. Anderson returned to the open door, and ushered in the overseer, who was wait-. big just outside, it appeared. A rough but good-natured looking man, with honest face and open manner, he ~took off his hat as he advanced into the apartment, nodded short- page: 100-101[View Page 100-101] UNDER SUSPiCiON. ~iOO MABEL LEE. ly to the company- in general,' and more re- spectfully to Mr. Sexton. and Mr. Blake, his eyes resting on the former for an instant with an 'expression of compassionate wonder at his altered appearance, and then, turning to Blake: "You know the flat-boat that was lost the night of the ball, Mr. Blake?" Blake nodded. ~"Wall, it's found; and this here was found in it~-.stuck fast to the bottom, in some wet mud." He extended, not to Blake, but to Mr. Sexton, what the latter took to be a piece of wet 'clay-soiled black lace, crushed to- gether into an unsightly lump, until he had it in his hand, when he saw that it was a~ half-length glove of the kind then univer- sally worn in summer by ladies. Gazing at it with n shudder, unable and unwilling to identify it as Mabel's, he turned to Conway, and said in a low tone, "Look at it, and see if you think it is hers." Conway shuddered, too, as he received it from his' uncle's outstretched hand. He exanilnud it closely,, but, so far as the glove itself was concerned, there was nothing by which he could identify it. Mabel wore such gloves,. he knew, but so did every lady of 14s acquaintance. Mechanically, he en- deav'ored to straighten it out, the better to ji~dge of its size and shape, and while doing so he found that it enclosed some foreign substance, to which it was pasted firmly by the half-dry mud. Crumbling this mud off, he ,started at the sight of a note-his own note, ~s he divined by instinct at the very first glimpse. He extricated it with some difficulty from the 'inside of the glove, opened it, gave one look at the blurred but perfectly' legible writing, and placed it in his uncle's hand. "The glove' is hers," he said~ ,"Se'e 1 - That is my note, written to her on Thursday." He pointed to the date, whieh~ Mr. Sexton read, and then spoke eagerly to the overseer. "Wheir and where was the boat found?" he exclaimed. '~ Why, you see, sir, the boat was mission' a Thursday zil4rnin', the day after the ball, and as she's a right new boat that Mr. Blake had had built after a notion of'his own, and so light that two hands can manage her easy, though she's big, why,, he didn't like the loss of her; and he spoke pretty sharp when I reported it to him, and said it was keerlessness on my part not to cv looked after things, better, for that no doubt the hands had got out of her in a hurry, and mebbe not fastened her at all, or "But where was she found?" inter- rupted Mr. Seyton, who, having listened very impatiently so far to this irrelevant tirade, could contain himself no longer. From the force of habit, he looked up at Blake, as much as to say, "Make him come to the point!" To which adjuration Blake replied by a slight negative motion of the head, signifying, "Let him tell his story his own way, or he'll never get to the end of it." And the man, unconscious of this by- play, replied: "I'll come to that presently, sir. Well, Mr. Blake he thought she hadn't bin fast- ened proper. He said all the niggers was on their heads last night, and that I must a bin on mine too, not to a noticed what they was about, and that he'd no doubt they'd just flung the chain round the stake, with- out pretending' to fasten it into the staple. I didn't think so, because Old Ike and Big Jim was the boat-hands, and there ain't two better or more dependable boys on the whole plantation, and they said they hitched her up just as usual. Well, when I cheered yesterday morning' that Miss Mabel was mission , I couldn't help thinking' that mebbe her bein' gone, and the boat's bein' gone, had something' to do with one another; and I sent Old Ike and Big Jim down the river in a canoe yesterday evening' late, to Mr. Dawson's plantation, to make inquiries whether anybody there had seed or cheered of, the boat's gem' by there. The boys hadn't got half-way to Mr. Daweon's be- fore they met Andy Campbell on his raft, comm' up for a load of timber, and he had the fiat towen on behind him, and said he had picked her up away 'down the river, and kno-wed her, and was bringin' her home as he passed gem' up the river. Well, it was after dark when Old Ike and Big Jim got back, and I wasn't at home, and didn't git 'home this. morning' till after breakfast, I for I was scourin' the country all night with a party of hands, looking' for some trace of Miss Mabel. When I did git home, I foimd the boys waiting' for mc; and when I cheered their story I was a most of Mr. Blake's way of thinking , that the flat had got loose and floated off down the stream; but I thought I'd go and take a look at her, and you see I found that in her "-he pointed to the glov~ -" and, what's more, there's bin people and horses, too, in her sence we used her our- selves, Wednesday night, because it was very dry weather then, and the boat was as clean as she could be, and there was nothing' to dirty her. And now she's full of mud, and there's the plain tracks of wheels and horses' feet-yes, and men's feet, too! And it's my opinion," he concluded, gravely, "that ~iss Mabel was carried off down the river in that boat." Most of the gentlemen shook their heads at this idea, and Governor Eston explained to the man that it was impossible, because of 'the story of Jacob Stone, who was posi- tive that he had seen Mabel in a skiff, adding, "You know he is not the sort of man to tell a cock-and-bull story, or to be mistaken in what he so positively says. For my part, I am just as firmly convinced that she was in the skiff, as if I had seen her myself." "I don't dispute it," returned Martin. "Stone's not the man to tell a lie, one way or another, I know. All I say is, she might a bin in the skiff when he saw her, and she might a bin in the flat afterward. And I'd like to know, governor, how you'd account for her glove bein' in the flat, if she hadn't bin in it herself?" "That I can't account for," said the governor. "That is strange, certainly.-You are sure it is her glove, Seyton?" For answer, Mr. Sexton held out to his inspection the back of the note upon which the address, "Miss MABEL Lnz, "Ayre," was legible at a glance. "And Mr. Conway recognizes this as a note written by himself?" asked the ~gov- ernor, in a very non-committal tone. Mr. Sexton turned the other side, and folding it back, so that the signature and date were exposed, he again held it out for the inspection of all who were inclined to examIne it. Then he put it on the table beside, the one already there, rose, from his seat, placed his hand on Conway's shoul- der, and, so standing, addressed the com- pany. "Before we proceed further with the subject of the boat, I must ask you, gentle- men, to give me your attention while I per- form an act of justice and of' duty-that of denouncing, as not only preposterous, but as infamous-infamous in the highest degree- the suspicion whieh Mr. ~Towe]l and Mr. Blake have thought fit to express, and, I believe, to disseminate, concerning my nephew 1-a suspicion that he was the ab- ductor of my goddaughter! As some cir- cumstances mentioned by Nowell are calcu- lated, upon a superficial view, to misle~4 opinion, I will, with your permission, go over the explanation and the proofs which I gave to Mr. Nowell, just before your ar- rival, as to the fact of my nephews presence in this house during the whole of Thursd~y afternoon and evening." He recapitulated the explanation to which he alluded-.-his own veto of the engagement made by Con- way and Mabel to go boating; Anderson's account of the delivery of Conway's note and Mabel's answer; his own and the ser- vant's perfect recollection of the time at which the different events of the afternoo~i transpired. "H&re are the two notes in question," he continued. "I do not know whether Anderson can recognize this, in its present condition "-he put his finger down upon the discolored and rumpled one-" but the other' he cannot mistake, as it is not written on ordinary note-paper, but on the fly-leaf torn from a book.-Ring the bell, if you please, Cyril." Mr. Harding obeyed. "Anderson," said his .master, when the man came in, "I want you to repeat to these gentlemen what you were telling us a while ago about your errand to Ayre, on Thursday afternoon. I think you said you heard the town-clock strike six while you were at Mrs. Lee's "Yes, sir ;." and he proceeded to give page: 102-103[View Page 102-103] a substantial repetition of what he had said before. "Look at these notes," said Mr. Seyton. "Are they the ones you carried that day?" "That is Miss Mabel's, sir," replied Anderson, without hesitation~ "The other looks like Mass Phil's, only it's so dirty. Will you let me see it a minute, sir, and I can tell you? If it's the one I cared that day, it's got some blood on one corner. As I was riding along, trimming a switch, I cut my finger, and it bled a good deal, off and on, all the evening, and some of the blood got on both of the notes." Mr. Sexton had given him the note, and he was fumbling with it as he spoke, and he now pointed to a dull-red stain on the cor- ner, that might have passed for a streak of clay a little darker than that which stained the whole paper, but which, o'n close scru- tiny, was obviously blood. "Here is the mark, you see, sir. It's Mass Phil's note." "Very well. That is all I want," said Mi'. Seyton. "I have nothing more to say," he re- s~mmed, when the servant had left the room. "Any reasonable man must 'admit that I am right in characterizing the suspicion which has been suggested as at onceppo.storona and i,~famous. If there are men so blinded by jealousy, or besotted in prejudice "-he looked significantly toward Blake-" as to entertain the insane idea that my nephew was in any wise connected with the dis- appearance of his affianced wife-such these documents (he pointed to the notes) prove my goddaughter to have been-why, I trust that both he and myself can support the knowledge of their ill opinion without con- cern, regarding it with the contempt which alone it deserves. "Now," he proceeded, sitting down, and speaking in a different tone, "how about this boat? I confess that the more I think of it, the more do I incline to Martin's opinion." He looked around. An animated discussion followed. Every- body was ready to admit that the presence of Mabel's glove in the boat seemed strong evidence of her having been in it herself. "But not by any means conclusivee proof of the fact," said Mr. Bradford. "The glove may have been put there purposely, to mis- lead inquiry, by directing it in a wrong chan- nel. One thing, however, is certain~ The disappearance of the boat was a preliminary to the abduction of Miss Lee, but whether used for the purpose and abandoned when no longer needed, in the expectation that the current would carry it out of reach of discovery; or whether it was intentionally left where it would be found, with her glove in it as a decoy for suspicion, seems to me a matter of doubt, It will be only prudent to make every effort to discover traces, and obtain information all along the river, from here down to the spot where the boat was found, but, at the same time, we must not relax in pursuing the search in all ether directions as vigorously as possible." "It seems to me," said another one of the gentlemen, "that it will be the easiest thing in the world to find out all about the boat. She must have been seen by some- body on her way down the river. For fifty miles down from here, there is not a stretch of three miles not overlooked by some plan- tation or residence. It is impossible that a boat of that size, or indeed any size, whether occupied or empty, should have escaped notice the whole way." "That's if she went down in the day- time," said Martin, with stubborn convic- tion of the corectuess of his own surmise; "but my notion is that she went down in the night." "You mean that you think Miss Lee was carried down the river in this boat at night?" asked Governor Eston. "That's what I think, gov~nor.~~ "But Miss Lee did not disappear until Thursday afternoon, late, while the boat was missing on Thursday morning?" "Yes, sir." "Then, what do you suppose became of the boat all day Thursday? She must have been on the river somewhere, and not very far off either, if she were to be used as you think that night. Now, if she had been on. the river, she would certainly have been seen, and we should have heard of it before this time?" "She bought a bin run up into some creek that day. There's plenty of 'em, you 102 MABEL LEE. know, on both sides o' the river. There~s Caney Creek right below here, where she could a laid all day without any diffikilty. It twists about so, that there's no a hundred yards ahead any place on it-and it's so swampy along the banks that nobody ever goes a nigh it. She could a bin hid there handy enough, and come out after it was dark, and come up the river mebbe, to meee the skiff that Stone saw." This suggestion seemed so reasonable, that a majority of the company at once adopted the overseer's opinion, and were eager to set out on this new track of dis- covery. Some ~verc still doubtful, and in- slated on prose~~ting the search in other directions. A more organized plan than that which had been pursued up to this time wa's adopted, the gentlemen present being formed into different parties, a speci- fied locality allotted to each, and, agreeing upon Seyton House as the point of rendez- vous to which all intelligence was to be brought as speedily as possible, they sepa- rated. CHAPTER XVIII. vox POPtILI. Arrun this, the days went by slowly and heavily, each one deepening the gloom and the mystery which hung over the fate of the missing girl: By degrees the activity of the search was discontinued, for no further trace was discovered, and a sort of hopeless apathy began to settle over the searchers. It was not from weariness or loss of interest, but simply because they had been met by blank failure in every direction, and because discouragement follows failure, as inevita- bly and as naturally as night follows day. They would have made any effort, they would have hesitated at no sacrifice, to re- cover her, but when all efforts and all sacri- fices proved utterly vain, when the fourth week of her absence had gone over, and they had not made the least advance toward discovery, It was only natural that the peo- ple at large-the people that were not bound to her by any ties of kindred or peculiar affection-should have lost heart, and begun to think those right who had, from the first, asserted a steady belief of her death. It was true that the question of accidental drowning had been entirely set at rest, and that no one in his senses could have doubted the testimony of Jacob Stone, or the evidence of the glove which had been found in the fiat-boat; but there remained the terrible surmise of violent death, and the morbid mind of the populace ever ready to receive, and, if necessary, to invent horror for itself- caught at the surmise with avidity. The intelligent portion of the community clung to a belief in her ab- duction, and could not see that the evidence tended in any other direction, but tife mass drew back from the search in sullen despair, and, looking at each other, said, "She has beea murdered!" It is almost unnecessary to say that her own family and friends opposed this belief with steady incredulity; clung, as people in their positions will cling, to the vaguest shadows of life, and shut their ears abso- lutely to the tragic solution of the mystery. Among them Nowell stood chief-a very bulwark of strength on which to lean~ But for his indomitable belief that Mabel was living, and his indomitable resolution to find her, every one else might have resigned himself through sheer despair, to a con- viction of her death. As it was, his pro- found skepticism and stern determination- a determination that never faltered for an instant - affected them as any strongly- rooted opinion must always affect the minds of others. They could not doubt, they could not sink down in absolute hopeless- ness, while he held his steady way, without a shadow of change or turning. "I will find her!" he had said on the first day of her disappearance, and he said it now' with a resolution, if any thing, deeper than before, when days had lengthened into weeks, and no gleam of success had cheered him. It was not singular that this belief infected every one around him, that it preserved Mr. Sexton from absolute despair, that it kept even Mrs. Lee up to some faint point of hope, and that it influenced Constance until she thought with his thoughts and accepted I%~ MAEL EE.vox PoPULI. 103 page: 104-105[View Page 104-105] 104 MABEl all his conclusions, save only the one eon- elusion that led him to a conviction of Con- way's guilt. On that point she remained flrmand in all Ayre her hand was the only onO ~utheld to the young man against whom there rose a deep and ever-growing murmur of recreation. For it was only natural that Ayre sh~uId adopt Nowell's opinion on the subject, and, looking about for an object of suspicion, should select the man whom Ma- bel's nearest connection was well known to have accused of a share at least in her dis- appearance. perhaps, if he had borne any other name, they might have qualified their judgment a little; might have given him at least the benefit of a doubt; but a Con- way-I ills patronymic in itself con- demned him past hope. Yet it would be hard to say how little this opinion or this indignation mattei:ed to the object of it-how little he regarded or even heard the ominous murmur of wrath- ful feeling daily growing stronger and deeper around him. He was still at Seyton House-waiting, hoping, looking for some clew, but, up to this time, waiting, hoping, looking, vainly. The other two gentlemen were gone. Mr. Harding took his depart- uro as soon as- he decently could, for lAs uncle's resolution in favor of Conway had )~Ot been rescinded~ as he had perhaps ex- pected, and, divested of any mercenary in- terest, Seyton House had become but a dull abode. He left with what show of dignity he could muster, and not long after Ainslie was reluctantly compelled to follow his ex- ample, having remained as long, or perhaps a little longer, than his convenience war- ranted. He had proved indefatigable in the search; but at last, like most of the rest, he seemed to lose heart. "My deaf~ boy, be sure and summon me, if there is any emergency in which I can be of ser- vice," he said, when he was taking leave; but Conway saw that he thought such an emergency little likely to arise. So he, too, left the saddened house behind him, and, after the manner of human nature, set his 4ee toward brighter scenes. Thus left alone-face to face with his position and its strasige responsibilities-Conway had little beside his own stout heart on which to lean. SLEE, His uncle was broken down in mind as well as body, and unable to afford him any as- sistance, save the material one of placing unlimited means at his command; and, be- sides Constance, there was not a single face which did not meet him with cold distrust or dark suspicion. The sins of the fathers are visited upon the children, by men as well as by God, and in nothing is this great law more conspicuously shown forth than in the matter of name and reputation. Who has not felt that the best earthly heritage which a man can leave his children, is the heritage of a good name ?-and who, also, has not felt (God help them, if it was in their own person!) that the most bitter and most clinging of all shame is that which comes by inheritance? It was this les- son which Mabel's outraged townspeople taught Conway now. "Do men gather grapes of thorns or figs of thistles?" the religious-minded among them were ready to quote on all occasions; while every discred- itable story which had ever been told of the father was revived, exaggerated, and used against the son. As a general thing, there is a sort of rough justice in this mode of treatment-it is well that men should be made to feel that the consequences of wrong- doing end not with themselves, that the few should suffer for the benefit of the many- but there was no justice at all in the form of it thus displayed; and so Conway bitter- ly felt. Feeling this, he bore himself tow-, ar.d his aggressors with a proud contempt, which they were quick enough to resent, quick enough to take hold of as fuel for the already rising flame-and so it was that all of a sudden he found his personal safety threatened. "I must warn that fellow," said Gov- ernor Eston one day, as he stood on a street- corner with several friends, and saw Con- way ride past. "Tbe people are at fever- heat, and he will be mobbed, if he keeps on coming here in this style." "Why need you interfere?" asked one of the others., "It is his own lookout, I am sure-the people express their sentiments plainly enough-and, for my part, I would not give him a warning to save him from the devil himself!" U I -VOX POPUJLL "Law and orddr are to be considered," said the governor, who had been a governor, and therefore thought much of these things. "You don't suppose I am thinking of him- confound him! I confess, I should dislike any thing of the sort, on Mr. Sexton's no- count, though. He is pitiably broken down, and he clings to this fellow yet, you know." "So I suppose; but can you conceive how it is? Mr. Seyton used to be a man of some sense." "I don't pretend to account for the blindness of partiality," said the governor, shrugging his shoulders. And then he went off to warn Conway that for the present he would do well to avoid the vicinity of Ayre. He had not gone very far before he en- countered his son, who was leisurely stroll- ing alon~ in an opposite direction. "Have you met Conway anywhere, Frank?" the governor asked. "I saw him pass a moment ago, and I want to speak to him." "I saw him pass, too," said young Estoh, carelessly, "but I took the best possible care not to look at him, since I had no de- sire to speak to him. There were three or four boys hooting after him; perhaps if you would ask some of them, they could tell you lils whereabouts." "What boys?" asked his father, frown- ing slightly. "Indeed, that is more than I can tell you-some nondescript ragamuffins or other. But it is a pity somebody does not warn him-Conway I mean-that Ayre is not the safest place in the world for him just now. They talk very suspiciously up-street." "Who talks?" "Almost everybody among the idlers, and working-men, and people of that ilk. Jim Barker was haranguing a small crowd at the street-corner a while ago." "I'll answer for him," said the gov- ernor, more assured than ever that it was high time to wara off the reckless young stranger who rode thus boldly into the lion's mouth. "I rather like his pluck," thought this brave, genial gentleman, who, in truth, liked pluck wherever or in whomsoever he might discover it; "but it won't do. There's no question of that-it won't do. He'll 105 * certainly find himself in the river some day; and then poor. Sexton -Halloa! what's that?" He had cause enough to know, having, spent thirty years in political life, and being therefore well acquainted with that peculiar sound, half hiss, ha If groan, by which an American mob expresses disapproval, and which now suddenly saluted his ears. He quickened his steps, and, turning a corner of a street, came full in view of a sight he had half expected. It chanced that some little time before Conway had alighted in front of a drug- store, and entered to make some small pur- chases. lie did not stay very long, but the fact of his presence sufficed to gather quite a knot of boys on the pavement opposite, who amused themselves by interchanging comments and remarks in loud tones with the loungers on the other side of the streeL "I say, Tom," shouted one o.f the bat- talion, to an ally in the door, "you better let Mr. Grinders know who's in his store. lie might like to put Miss Ellen under lock and key. She'll be apt to turn up missing if he don't." "P'raps he had better look out him. sell', too," suggested another. LL ~Long as his hand's in now, the gentleman, mebbe, won't stop with women." "No doubt he's a-buyin' pisen," said a third. "If anybody's took awful with sudden fits to-night, we'll know what give it to 'em," cried a fourth. "Mebbe he means to finish off the fam- ily-tell him to be sure and not forget Mr. Newell while he's about it, Tom," said num- her one again. "Let's give him a salute when he comes out," cried another. "There~ he is now! Steady, boys. Hiss-s!" A perfect roar of groans, hisses, and cries ensued; but Conway paid no more attention to it than if it had borne no sound to his ears. He did not even glance toward the small indignant; but quietly unfastened his horse's bridle from the post over which it was thrown, and mounted. It was just as he did so, just as he settled himself in the saddle, that a heavy missile of some deserip- page: 106-107[View Page 106-107] 106 MABEL LEE. 'Vox rOruLI. 1o~, tion whirled past, and, narrowly missing his head, grazed his shoulder. And it was at this instant-as he wheeled about with a riding-whip uplifted in his hand-that Gov- ernor Eston caine round the corner. The matter looked serious enough, for several men who had been standing by with their hands in their pockets, not exactly participating, 'but only encouraging, the boys, now came to the fore with angry countenances. "None o' that here," said one of them, a tall, burly giant. "You had better put that whip down, and take yourself off, if you know what's good for you. We'll have no murderers threatening our children. Take yourself ofl and be d-d to you, before we pitch you into the river." "Try it," said Conway, curtly. "You insolent scoundrel, stand out of the way immediately, or I'll break this whip over your head!" "At him, Jim! Give it to him!" cried one or two voices in the rear. "D-n him, let him come off 'en his horse," said Jim, "then I'll show him. It's only a coward what threatens a man on foot when he's on horseback. Yea, it's only a coward." He had scarcely spoken the last word, when the loaded whip-handle descended on his head with a force that sent him to the ground like a felled ox. Then, inamoment, all was tumult and violence. Men who had been watching the scene from a distance, rushed eagerly forward; those near by dashed at Conway fiercely, and for several minutes his safety was more than question- able. The mad mob spirit had needed only a spark to set it in ablaze, and, as Governor Eston hurried forward, the scene was one of the wildest confusion and uproar. Curses were freely hurled back and forth~ to- g~ther with such pleasant cries as "Take him off!" "Pull him down!" "Knock the horse in the head!" while'all that was to be seen was a surging mass of men and boys, the rearing, plunging horse in the middle, Conway firm as an equestrian statue on its back, and the whip still clinched in his hand. "Whoever touches me gets this!" he said, raising it as he spoke. "Come on, if you dare! If you are cowards enough to attack an unarmed man-come on!" "Not half such cowards as you," cried another one of those voices in the rear. "We never carried off a woman or drowned her either." "Come out, where I can see you, and repeat that!" said Conway, with his eyes gleaming like coals of fire. But the unknown worthy had no mind for this. Indeed, although at least fifty men had assembled by this time, they were all for the moment held at bay by the rearing horse, the uplifted whip, and the defiance and courage which the man's whole attitude breathed. If there had been one sign of falter, or token of fear in face or figure, his fate might have been sealed then and there, for the hot Southern blood is not much given to reasoning, or to counting conse- quences on occasions of this kind; and it had been at fever-heat for many days. But, as it was, they followed the notable example of the Tuscan chivalry in the ballad- "And those behind cried 'Forward!' And those before cried Back!"' So they were still swaying to and fro, in confused irresolution, when Governor Es- ton saw his opportunity and took it. "What is the meaning of all this I" he cried, and his voice-a voice accustomed to rise above the roar of popular assemblages -rang clearly over the heads of the aston- ished crowd. "Is it Ayre men who are insulting an unarmed stranger, in such a manner as this? Shame to you all! Double shame to whoever began the row! Stand back, and let me pass. I am an Ayre man, and I must apologize for the conduct of my townsmen." "He's a murderer, gov~nor~you know he's a murderer!" cried several, though the majority were silent, and, as there was little or no unanimity of purpose, began to fall back. "How do you dare to sa.y that?" cried the governor, angrily. "You have no right to judge any man till the law decides his guilt-and the law no more decides Mr. Conway's guilt than it does mine. Stand back, I say, and go home." I ~'He's knocked all the sense out of Jim not to the point. I was about to say, Mr. Barker, any way," cried one spirit, too Conway, that if you consult your safety, fierce to give up, though the tide had evi- you will, for the present, avoid Ayre. The dently turned. "We can't stand by and see state of popular indignation is so great-" our townsfolk treated like dogs." "Avoid Ayre!" said Conway, with a "Let them behave like men, then," re- dark-red flush overspreading his face. "Do torted the governor. "Jim Barker de- you take me for a coward as well as a vil- served what he got. And as for knocking lain, sir? I am obliged to you for your ad- the senses out of him, Mr. Conway would vice-I have certainly seen of what your have needed to put some in before he could townspeople are capable-but, for all that, I have done that." have nointention of following it. The only The ~qu4voque was -greeted with a shout thing they force upon me is the one thing of of laughter; and it was all that was needed hereafter carrying arms. And you may give to disperse the crowd. They fell back at warning, if you choose, that the first man once, deserting the cause of Jim Barker with who attempts to lay hands on me seals his shameful promptitude; and not even ani- own death-warrant." mated to vengeance when they saw him led "Prudence is better than bravado, Mr. away by two sympathizing friends, who Conway." were accustomed to perform the same good "And self-respect, in some cases, better offices after all convivial occasions in which than either. I shall come to Ayre exactly he chanced to participate. as I have done before-and I should do the Conway returned his acknowledgments same if I knew that to-day's scene would be somewhat coldly and stiffly for the timely repeated to-morrow. And now, let me say interference that had spared him the neces- one thing more. I am aware how the peo- sity of breaking half a dozen heads instead plc have obtained the suspicion which they of one. attach to me. I know that many gentlemen, "You owe me no thanks, Mr. Conway," of whom Governor Eston is said to be one, said the governor, a little stiffly in his turn, freely express a belief in my guilt. There- "I hope I am always to be found on the fore I have no disposition to blame the ig- side of law and order; and I would do much norant fools who merely follow the example more than this to spare my old friend Mr. of their betters; and I am still more unable Seyton any pain or annoyance. I hope you to thank you, sir, for my personal~ safety, are not hurt? I thought I saw a brickbat when you have inflicted such an injury on as I turned the street." my character as the one involved in this "Very probably you did," answered matter. I hope to be able to repay the oh- Conway, coolly. "I don't remember-Ah, ligation under which you have just placed yes. I feel it in my shoulder here. The me, but at present I have the honor ~o wish rascals have nearly disabled my bridle-arm, you good-morning." I wish I had a chance at one or two more of He raised his hat ceremoniously, and, be- them." fore the astonished governor could reply, "You had better be glad you got off as had ridden away, leaving him quite alone in well as you did," said the governor, whose the middle of the street. distrust began to return as soon as the chiv- "Well, well!" thought that gentleman, alric impulse was past. "You made a nar- as he slowly walked back to the pavement, row escape as it was. These people are "this is thanks, upon my word, for saving no triflers in affairs of the kind, and I his neck; he is as hot and hasty as gun- saw them do as quick a piece of lynching powder; but what the deuce is the reason once-" that I can't help liking him?" " I thought you were always to be found on the 'side of law and order, sir." "Yes, to be sure. But in this case, the fellow richly deserved it. However, that is page: 108-109[View Page 108-109] 108 MABEL LEE. A FORGERY. 109 CHAPTER XIX. A FORGERY. AFTER his abrupt parting with Governor Eston, Conway rode on, more chafed and heated than he would have liked to ac- knowledge, and soon turned from Main Street, whel~e the late encounter had oc- curred, into the quieter portion of the town where Mrs. Lee lived. His way to her house led him past the Catholic church, and the priest's house, which adjoined it; but he did not turn his head, and so failed to see that Father Lawrence, followed by Nancy, was just issuing from the latter, as he went by at a sharp canter. "Is not that Mr. Conway?" asked the father, speaking over his shoulder to Nancy, as she tramped along behind. "Did Con- stance send for him 'also?" "Not as I knows of, sir," was the re- sponse. "Deed, I'm sure she didn't-for she sent Uncle Jack for Mass Francis, and me for you, and she didn't have nobody to send for Mr. Conway." "He is going to your house, though, I -think." "Yes, sir, I 'spect he is." "He will be just in time, then." "I wonder-" began the good priest, thoughtfully. But at that moment Conway chanced to look back, and, seeing those two together, turned and galloped hastily toward. them. He understood at once that Father Lawrence had been summoned by Con- stance or her mother, and i{ that summons foreboded news, whether good or ill, he wished to hear it at once. "Good-morning, father," he said, as he drew~ near, and reined up Mazeppa so suddenly as alin9st to throw him on his haunches. "Have they heard any thing new at Mrs. Lee's?" '~ Good-morning, Mr. Conway, answered the father,~a little more ceremoniously than he often spoke, for, kind and gentle as he was by nature, and little given to judging auy one, he could ziot but regard with some- thing of distrust this blacji sheep who had wandered into his fold,' and whom every one believed to be connected, either directly or indirectly, with the loss of its pet Iamb. "Yes; they have heard some news at Mrs. Lee's-not ill news, however," he added, quickly, as he saw how pale thG young man's face became. I' Good news, rather. Constance sends me word that she has just received a letter from Mabel." "A letter I-from Mabel!" It was all he could say, for his aston- ishment was so great that it quite over- whelmed him. He ~Iooked at Nancy, with a mute interrogation which Nancy answered in her own dry fashion. "Yes, sir; a letter from Miss Mabel. Miss Constance got it about half an hour ago, and she sent me right straight for Fa- ther Lawrence." "Why did she not send-why did she not let me know I" "There has not been time," said Father Lawrence. "Of course she would have sent and let Mr. Seyton and yourself know, if- But don't let me detain you, Mr. Conway. I see you are in haste to go on." Conway had not the least idea of allow- ing himself to be detained; but he mut- tered something like a hasty acknowledg- ment for this consideration, and, striking his spurs almost unconsciously into the aston- ished Mazeppa, galloped forward, and was out of sight in a moment. A few seconds later, he had dismounted at Mrs. Lee's gate, and was walking up the rose-bordered path that led to the front door. It stood 'open, as usual; but an inex- pressible air of silence and sadness brooded over the house. No voice sounded, no foot- step echoed, no pleasant carol of song, or 'ripple of laughter, came from the sitting- room, or floated down the stairs. All was rigid order and unbroken silence. He stood listening for a moment, but the house 'might have been deserted, for all sign of life it gave-and then knocked gently on one side of the open door. The next instant there was a rustle of garments, a light footstep, and Constance came down the staircase to meet him. She started when she saw who it was; but it was not a start of ill-plessd surprise. On the, contrary, she~ smiled as he had not seen her smile in weary weeks, and held out her hand. "You are just in time," she said. "I- but I see you have heard the news. Hush! -not a word! Mamma will overhear us if we talk here. Come in." He followed without a syllable, as she led the way into the sitting-room, the blinds of which were closed to exclude as much as possible of the sultry August air, and the cool, fragrant atmosphere of which might at another moment have brought to him a sense of positive rest and peace. But now he could think of nothing save the news he had heard and was yet to hear-the strange, incomprehensible news, as it seemed-and the moment they were within the room, he turned to her. "Tell' me," he said, hurriedly, "is it true? Have you-have you really heard from her?" "Yes, I have heard from her," she an- swered, in an almost solemn tone. "It is very strange, but it is true. She gives no explanation. She tells us nothing-but, 0 Mr. Conway, she is living! and that is all we need care to know." "All we need care to know!" he re- peated, passionately. "It is what I haye known all the time, and it is tlte thought above all others which sets me mad! It- hut this is folly. Let me see the letter." He spoke imperiously-spoke as one who deniands a right, rather than as one who requests a favor-but Constance made no demur. She drew the letter at once from her pocket and held it toward him. "It will hurt you," she said. "I give you warning of. that beforehand. Bat it is your right to see it, and I would not with- hold it if I could. Only, before you take it, thank God with me, once at least, that she is yet spared to us." But he did not say a word. He took the letter to one of the windows, dashed open the shutters, and read the few lines it contained. "My DARLING: Don't think hardly of me that I should have gone away~as I 4id, and caused you all the suffering and anxiety of the past three weeks. I could not help it-indeed Ii could not-and when you hear my story, you will forgive me, I am sure. I am happy-quite happy; and I beg you to believe so. Don't fret about me, and don't let mamma fret. Tell her to feel as if I had gone on a visit, and to believe-what I sol- emnly assure her-that I will return very soon. I hoped indeed to see you before this; but it is impossible just now. I only write to relieve your mind; to tell you that I am alive and well; that I have done noth- ing which need grieve you, and that I love you as dearly as ever. Kiss mamma for me, and my dear godfather. Tell them both that I am certainly coming back; and remember always that you have the whole heart of "MABEL." That was all. Not a word of explana- tion concerning her departure, her com- panion, or her intention; not the faintest clew of her whereabouts; not the slightest mention of the lover to whom she had gone away affianced. The letter which Constance greeted so gladly had only made the mys- tery deeper than ever; and only added ten- fold darker doubts and fears than those which had encompassed it before. And Constance, looking on, saw Con- way's face pale whiter and whiter, as he read the short page to the end; and when he finished, instead of turning round and speaking, his eye went back to the begin- ning, as if he could not believe that what he saw was indeed all. Then suddenly he turned and flung it on the table before her. "It is a lie!" he said. "My God, Miss Lee, do you thing I am mad, to credit -such a thing as this?" She looked at him with eyes full of piti- ful amaze, but before she could reply sLeps sounded in the hall, and Father Lawrence, accompanied by Nowell, entered the room. They had encountered ~ich other at the gate, and it was very evident that the latter as well as the former had already heard the news which was the cause of their abrupt summoi~s. 'He soaroely noticed Vonway at all, and gave his companion no time for greet- ings, but walked directly up to his cousin. "You sent for me, Constance-what is it?" $ page: 110-111[View Page 110-111] A FORGERY 111 110 M4.BEI~ LEE. He had advanced to the table near which she was standing, and, instead of replying, she pushed the letter across to him. He seized it at once, opened and read it just where he was. The three, looking on, saw the lines of his face deepen and harden with every moment-the rugged eyebrows draw nearer and nearer together, until they knit themselves into a dark frown, while the narrow lipa were compressed like iron. When he finished reading, he looked up, not at Constance, nor at Conway, but at Father Lawrence, and held the open sheet toward him. "I suppose you would like to see it," he said, in his cold, harsh voice. "Take it, by all means, and admire, if you can, such a notable device." "A notable device!" the other re- peated. "What do you mean?" "Read it, and answer that question for yourself." Father Lawrence received the letter, but, as he did so, his eyes wandered to Con- stance, and, seeing how pale and faint she was, he took a step forward, and before she knew what he was about, seated her in a deep chair that stood near. Then he laid his hand on her shoulder. "My poor child, keep still!" he said. It was all that he did say; but his sweet, solemn voice spoke as much to her heart as to her worn-out frame. Keep still! It is what faith says to us al- ways-what it tells the troubled, the weary, and the anxious, in all trials, however great or however small. Our puny efforts can avail literally nothing against the mighty barrier of circumstance which is the expo- nent of God's decree ;but there is Another, and a Stronger, who holds all things in His hand, to whom all things whatsoever are possible, end who susteins those who lay down all weapons of warfare at His feet. Keep still I Poo; aching, wretched human hearts,~ when shall we learn that in this is comprised the answer to all enigmas, the ending of all griefs, the cessation of all aux-- ieties? When shall we learn it? Ah, sure- ly, not while the agony of bereavement or of outrage is pressing upon us, while every heart-string is torn and bleeding, and every nerve is quivering with some bitter hope- lessness, or when the gray pall of some mighty desolation comes down and shuts out all glory, all beauty, all comfort, human or divine, in one great blackness! Yet, even then, it is taught us sometimes, through sheer exhaustion; and it was thus that Con- stance learned it now. She sank back, closed her eyes, and faintly moved her lips in prayer, while-with his hand still resting on her shoulder-Father Lawrence read the letter signed with Mabel's name. When he finished, he looked up at Now- dl, with astonishment and incredulity legi- ble on his face. "What is the meaning of it?" he asked. "It cannot be Mabel - our Mabel - who writes thus?" "Mabel!" repeated the other, scornfully. "Can you think such a thing? Is it possi- ble you do not see the object for which that precious effusion has been manufactured?" "I-how should I?" "How should you? Why, the plot is so shallow that a child might read it! So shallow, that the end aimed at-the end of calling off search and inquiry-was never further from being gained than at this mo- ment! So shallow, that the plotter, who- ever he may be, might have done better, if he had tried, I am sure!" His eyes turned darkly and sternly tow- ard Conway as he uttered the last words; but Conway paid no attention to the glance. On the contrary, he, too, looked directly at Father Lawrence, and addressed himself to him. "I agree with Mr. Nowell, sir," be said; "and you, I am sure, will agree with both of us. That letter is not-cannot be-.--gen- nine. The priest looked down at it and shook his head slowly, like one much troubled and perplexed. "I cannot believe that it is genuine," he said, "but yet it is Mabel's writing. We must all recognize that." "It is a forgery of her writing," said Nowell, curtly. Conway started and looked at him ea- gerly. "You think so?" he asked. "No," the other answered. ~' I know it." I "But you must have some reason-some proof for such a belief?" "I desire no better reason, no better proof, than its own internal evidence, Mr. Conway," said Nowell, coldly. "I do not despair of finding others, however.-Con- stance, will you get me some of Mabel's writing? Father Lawrence, if you have fin- ished with that thing, I will trouble you for it." Constance left the room, and Father Lawrence handed over "the thing" at once. When the former returned, she brought an open letter in her hand. "This was written last Christmas, when Mabel was spending a month at Colonel Mordaunt's," she said. "I have nothing later." "It Will do," said Nowell, and he car- ried the two letters to the window which Conway had thrown open, and laid them side by side before him-side by side, com- pared them patiently. They were very much alike, so much alike that it was not wonderful Constance, had been deceived, and that he himself had only been enlight- ened by what seemed a flash of inspiration. They were almost identical in general ap- pearance, but an eye less quick than his might have noticed that in detail they dif.h fered. Many little tricks of the pen were visible in the first, which the second totally lacked; and there was a formality, a regu- larity of aspect in the last, which the other did not exhibit. Beyond this, the difference was too subtle to be expressed - it was only to be felt. Most of us have seen forged handwriting in our time, and most of us, therefore, will have recognized what Now- dl recognized then-i. e., the undoubted fact that every thing on this strange earth of ours possesses a soul as well as a body, and that the soul of reality is invariably ab- sent in writing meant to simulate another hand than that of the person who guides the pen. It is like some poetry we have read- some statuary we have seen-some music we have heard-a body, which may per- haps be a very beautiful body, but is none the less a body without a soul. Newell had not the faintest leaning toward metaphysics, or any thing connected with it, so he did not put this thought into words-much less pause to follow it out in all its bearings. He simply accepted a fact as he found it; and the fact here stared him in the face, that the letter which purported to have been written by Mabel, bore upon it the stamp of unreality. Further than this he could not go, for, from the first word to the last, there was not a line or a dot which afforded him even the slightest clew. Meanwhile, Father Lawrence, turning to Constance, asked if she had told her mother any thing of this new turn of affairs. She shook her head. "No," she said. "I did not doubt the letter myself-I did not think for a moment of its being forged-but still I had a vague misgiving, and I felt that it was wisest not to tell her. It would have been such a cruel blow-nh! father, such a cruel blow to learn that it was false." "It was wisest to have left her in igno- rance," he answered, gently. And yet he felt that it was not on Mrs. Lee that the cruel blow had fallen-that hope had come for one moment, to be dashed by despair the next-and his heart ached for the piteous eyes uplifted to his face. He looked half appealingly at Conway, and Conway came forward and spoke. "Take comfort, Miss Lee," he said. "If your cousin is right-and I firmly believe that he is-in pronouncing that letter a for- gery, it goes to prove that out' search has in some way struck nearer the truth than we ourselves had dared to hope. If it is a forgery, it is meant, as he says, to call off inquiry; and therefore it proves conclusive- ly that inquiry has become dangerous." "It does even more," added Father. Law- rence. "It gives a clew that may prove a very valuable aid to search." Conway shook his head. "I am not sanguine of that," he said. "The man who could forge such a letter as this would consider well all possible chances of detection, and avoid them." "But have you examkied? Have you looked at the post-mark, for instance ~ "I have," said Constance, as Conway took up the envelope, which lay on the ta- ble. "It tells nothing." p page: 112 (Illustration) [View Page 112 (Illustration) ] 112.MABEL LEE. "No," said Conway, "for it i~ ~ at Edgerton; and Edgerton is a point where so many different points of travel converge, that ~ny one in passing might drop a letter, and safely defy detection. Besides, it is only sixty miles distant from here." "The seal, then?" "The seal is certainly Mabel's," said Constance. "it is a device of which she was very fond, and always wore on her chatelaine . It is hers-I am sure of that." Conway looked at the seal-he, too, rec- ognized the device-and, while he looked, Noweil came back to the table. "I never saw a better imitation of a handwriting," the latter said,* with obvious reference to the letter in his hand. "There is not a stroke to betray the forgery; and yet, on the fact that i~ is forged, I would be willing to stake my life.-Constance, if you take my advice, you will say nothing to my aunt about this." "I bad not thought of saying any thing, Francis." "And I will take the letter with me to my office. Perhaps, by dint of hard study, I may find some clew in it. Where is the envelope?" Conway handed it to him, and he took it with a cold bend of the head, by way of acknowledgment. Having refolded and replaced the letter, he put it in his pocket, and left the room after a general good-morn- ing. But lie had hardly vanished from sight, when his cousin started forward, and followed him to the front door. "Francis," she said, hastily, as he turned at the' sound of her step behind him, "I want to beg one favor-don't keep any thing from me. If-if you do find a clew, for Heaven's sake let me know of it. I can bear any thing better than a thought of se- crecy. Promise me this!" He looked at her intently before he re- plied; and even he was touched by her pleading eyes and quivering features, so that when he answered it was almost gently. "yes, I promise. But I have little or no hope of finding any thing. There! don't keep me. I must go." "One moment! Tell me what you think. Does this prove that-that she is alive?" "I have never doubted her being alive; and, if it proves any thing, it certainly goes to prove that," He hesitated a moment, then went on quickly: "Keep heart, Con- stance. Remember this-if she is on the earth, I will find her." She looked up at him gratefuhly-ah! so grateully-~nd still followed him with her eyes after he strode away. He was rough, and harsh, and bitter, but she wondered now it she had ever before been conscious of his inestimable value; ever before recog- nized the sterling gold that made the foun- dation of his character; ever before realized how entirely he was that best of all things on this earth of ours-a sure and steadfast help in time of need; a very tower of strength, on whom the weak and helpless could lean; and in whom they could put trust, sure that it would never be betrayed. When she went back into the sitting- room, she found that Father Lawrence had gone up to see Mrs. Lee, who, during all these weeks, had never left her chamber, andthat Conway was sitting in an attitude of profound despondency by the centre- table, his arms supported on it, and his head buried in his hands. He did not hear her step as she entered, and the sound of her voice at his side was the first thing that roused him, Then he looked up with ,a face that quite startled her by its pallor and haggardness. "Did you speak to me?" he said~ "I beg pardon, I did not hear you." "I only called your name," she an- swered. "I only wanted to say to you what Francis said to me a moment ago- Keep heart. 0 Mr. Conway, God 'is very good. He will never be cruel enough to take her from us forever' The cloud on his face did not lift, but rather darkened, and the pale lips com- pressed themselves like steel. When he re- plied, it was slowly and laboredly, ~s one who speaks under the pressure of some stern self-control. "You are a better Christian than I am, Miss Lee, if you can speak, or even think of God, in this matter. To me, He ii ~ ~ 1F~ P / "ConMay was sitting in an attitude of profound despondency by the centre-table, his aries supported on it, and his head buried in his hands." p. 112. 1t F I 112 page: -113[View Page -113] A FORGERY. 11 scorns quite apart from it. To me, there is only the remembrance of man and devil-~ and the bitterness, the misery, the agony, of feeling my own impotence to ferret~ them out." "In time. You may do so in time." "In time? But every hour is an eter- nity-and she has been gone six weeks! Do you remember that? Do you remember that she may be suffering-what may she not be suffering !-while I am here? She is somewhere - living or dead, she is some- where-and I am powerless to find her! You are a woman, Miss Lee; you cannot even imagine what this burning, baffled sense of impotence is! " "I think I can." "No; because you were not made to go forth and conquer Fate by the strong hand; you have not been trained to believe all things possible to the resolute. Two months ago, if this had been foretold to me-this, and my own inactivity - I should have laughed it to scorn. I should have said that Iwouldsearch the world over to finder; and yet, you see! She has been gone six weeks, and I-am here!" She could not say any thing to comfort him. She stood too sadly in need of com- fort herself to be able to speak words of hope and cheer. She could not again bid him "keep heart," for, alas! her own heart was failing, and her own courage sinking with every moment. She could only lay her thin white hand-a shadowy hand it had grown in these six weeks~down upon his, and re- peat once more, as if the words had been a talisman: "God is very good to us!" Then she added, softly, "His will be done." He looked up impatiently, almost fiercely -who shall say with what reply trembling on his lips ?-but the pale, worn face, the large, sad eyes, hushed and rebuked him. This woman had suffered more than he; this woman's desolation was deeper than his; but she could say that-.-she could feel that -while his heart was one seething caldron of bitterness against the Omnipotent, as well as against the perpetrators of the crime which had outraged him! He could not imitate her faith, though it seemed to him 8. at the moment almost sublime; for he had flung his human strength against the mighty strength of God's fiat, and had yet to learn that the end of this unequal conflict is only weariness and defeat. But he felt awed and silenced, as we have all felt in the presence of something which is as far above us as the everlasting heavens are above the earth. "I hope He will be good to you," he said. "I hope you may never feel one hun- dredth part of what I feel at this moment. If you ever should, then He can at least pity you. I think I had better go now. It is growing late, and I have yet to learn what the mail brought to Seyton House." "Do you think it is likely to have brought you a letter like-like that one?" "No, I don't think so. Either it is their policy to ignore me, or else the forger or forgers do not know of my existence. But I do expect, I have been expecting daily, news from one of my agents." "You have agents at work, then?" He laughed bitterly. "Do you think I have been idle all this time? I have my suspicions-I have had them from the first-but they were vague and needed proof. I could not prosecute the search for this proof myself, because to do so would have been to excite alarm, but I have put a safe detective on the track, and I wait-that is all." "And when-" She stopped short. Her quick ear caught the click of the front gate, and the sound of a man's tread on the gravel-walk that led to the house. She turned hastily, thinking that Newell might have ceme hack; but in- stead of Nowell it was Anderson who ap- peared. He walked into the hall, and then stood still, hesitating evidently whether to knock on one side of the open door, or to pass through to the kitchen. While he hesi- tated, Constance went forward, startling him very much by suddenly appearing, 1ik~, a white apparition, in the sitting-room door. "What is it, Anderson?" she asked. Anderson started, but touched his hat,. and answered promptly. " It's only M~s Phil I'm looking for, ma'am. Is he herq? ',~ "Yes, he is here., Have you any thing for him?" I 113 page: 114-115[View Page 114-115] MABEL LEE. A LOST TRiNKET. u~5 "Nothing but a message, m~~am.'~ ~ Come in, then-or, stay. I will send him to you. She vanished, and after a moment Con- way came out, pale and eager. He ex- changed only a few short sentences with the servant,~ and then went back to Constance. "My uncle has sent for me," he said. "Like a fool, I think it may mean some- thing, while it is probably nothing. If it should be any thing, of course you know you will heal~ immediately. Good-by." He shook hands, giving her no time for reply; and, standing at the window a min- ute later, she watched him gallop out of sight, down the green village street. CHAPTER XX. N 4 LOST TiiIxKnT. DiSMOuNTING at the door of Seyton House, Conway tossed his rein to a servant who came fovwttrd at the moment, walked haet~ly round, and entered the library by one of its windows. his As he expected, he found Mr. Sexton in usual place-the deep arm-chair that was wheeled just before Mabel's portrait. H~ had broken terribly in these six weeks, had grown wan and weak of aspect, falter- ing of speech, and altogether more like a quavering old man than like the elegant gentleman, whose courtly beauty and court- ly refinement had been a proverb all his life-but he looked up now with some ring of the old self, both in voice and manner. "I am glad to see you, Phil," he said. "You must forgive me for sending after you, ~nd startling you, no doubt; 'but these eame~ and I could not restrain my impa- tie~e to hear what was in them." ~ X~e pointed to the table, and Conway, ~d~rancIng, saw two letters lying there. The young man took them up eagerly. They were both directed to himself, by the same h~nd, aiidbothlxrethe same post-mark. He 4latieedatthern; and then looked up at his uncle. are from Atkins," he said, tear- hag one of them open as he spoke. "I won- der you did not see this, and read them, sir." "I did aee, or rather take for granted, that they were from him," Mr. Seyton an- swered. "But it did not occur to me to read what was not directed to me. Indeed, I don't think I should have done so if it had occurred to me. Make haste, Philip. Tell me what he says." "I can't tell yet," Conway replied, run- ning his eye hastily down the page before him. "I-but perhaps the shortest way will be to read it aloud." He read aloud, therefore-rapidly, but distinctly-.-the letter which follows: "-VILLE, VmGINIA, .Aug~et 7, 15-. "Sin: I reached this point a week ago, and I should have let you hear from me be- fore now, if there had been any thing to tell you. But there has not been. I have been looking about and feeling my ground, but I have not discovered any thing yet. According to your instructions, I send you an account of all I have found out up to this time, which, as you will see for yo1~rself, is very little. Mr. Harding came directly from Ayre to this place, making no stop- pages by the way. I was with him all the time, and can vouch for this. When I say that I was with him all the time, I mean that I was with him as much as possible without drawing his notice. You warned me to be particular about this, and I have been careful. I am sure that he has no idea that 1 am sent here to watch his movements. It was not until we reached Raleigh that he saw me, and then we fell into conve~s~tion, and I told him I was a commercial traveller in the hardware line. I did this because I knew it was not 1&i~ line, and he was not likely to find me opt. I have made ,a good many inquiries about him since I have been here, and I find him to be a man respected by everybody. Some people laugh at him, and say he is too religious and teo strict in his notions for a young man, but everybody is ready to take oath, if necessary, on his honesty. As far as I can see, he lea~~ as regular and open a life as any man ne~d t~. He is said to be studying for the ministry, and in cbnseqnence of this, as I suppose, lie spends mist of his time at home. But h walks every morning, and generally takes ride in the evening. He seems very fond 0: ladies' society, and attends regularly at al the Sunday-schools and Bible-classes of hi~ church. I ~iave met him only once or twic singe I arrived herefor I took pains not tC throw myself in his way, but then we had some religious talk. This is all that I hav to say. I hope you willanot be discouraged because it is so little. If you are right in your suspicions, there is no hurry, and ne cause to be downhearted. Mr. Harding is bound to betray himself sooner or later, and I never~yet found that you landed a fish any the sooner for pulling him in too short. It is a tough job, but I think after a while we may clear it up. "Your ob't servant, "Ron'r ATKINs." When he finished, Conway laid the letter down quite silently, and Mr. Seyton was the first to make any comment. "He speaks very cautiously, Philip. He does not seem to entertain any hope," he said, doubtfully-wearily almost., "He is a cautious fellow, sir," said Con- way, "and as for hope, he never deals with any thing less than absolute facts. We can depend on him for those-that is all that is necessary." "Ye-es." "And now we will see what he says in his other letter. Don't hope any thing, sir. "I'm not hoping." "Neither am I," said the young man; but, despite the assertion, he set his teeth, and his eye brightened as he tore open the second letter. When he unfolded it, there tumbled out on the table a small round something, which looked like a tiny wafer. "What is that?" asked Mr. Seyton, ea- gerly. "We'll see in a moment," Conway an- swered-and pushing it aside, so that it might not distract his attention, he dashed~ once into the letter; It was dated a day later thanthe other, though, from some ir- r~n1arity of the mails; they had both ar- jIved at the same time. "-vxu~ Vracn~t&, Augz~.t8, 18-. "Sin: I wrote to you yesterday, giving f an account of how matters have progressed 1 with me up to that time. Since I mailed my letter, something has occurred which may help to throw a little light on our way, and, according to your instructions, I at once forward you an account of it. Whenl* finished my letter yesterday, I took it to the post-office, and as I was stepping into the post-office, I met Mr. Harding coming out. We exchanged a good-day and a few words about the weather, and then he went on, and I walked in to mail my letter~ After handing it to the postmaster, I started out, when, just as I turned, I happened to eee something on the floor which looked like a piece of money, a~nd I stooped and picked it up. After I picked it up I saw that it was not a piece of money, but a seal set in gold. I was about to hand it to the postmaster and tell him to keep it~ till the owner called for it, when something about it put me in mind of one I had noticed on Mr. Harding's watch-chain when he stood talking to me a day or two before. I had noticed it be- cause it comes natural to me to notice little things, and because it looked like a lady's seal, and partly because it looked v~rypret- ty. I am quite sure that this was the same one, and I slipped it in my pocket, thinking I would have a look at it before returning it. On my way back to the hotel, I met ~ little negro coming along at a trot. I knew him in a minute, for I had taken pains to find out who the Harding servants were, and to establish a sort of nodding acquaint. ance with all of them. This little fellow was one who generally went on errands. I asked him if any thing was the matter at home, as lie seemed tobe inahu said nothing was the matter, only Is Masse Cyril had lost a seal, and thought~ ha:d lost it in the post-offie~j~iidiuid eent~ him to look for it, and he eiiil&1 by asking siieAf I had seen it. I did not want to tell a downright lie, so I answered that I had not looked for it, 'and the little scamp trot~ ted on. But I felt almost aS If I was steal ing the thing, thoughall I wanted was ~gedd look at it. I hul!ried back to my room, slid as soon as I got there Itbok it out and ez~ $ MABEL LEE. page: 116-117[View Page 116-117] 116 MABEL LEE' ammed it, and found it to be a white stone, with a device of a bird carrying a letter, and some words round it which I cannot make out. I send you a wax impression of it, and you will be able to tell better by that than by my description. It is a lady's seal-there is no doubt about that. But there was nothing suspicious about it that I could see, and Iliad just made, up my mind to g~ and returii it to Mr. Harding, when I happened to look at the inside, which had a gold plate over it, and there I saw two in- itials scratched with a pin, or some other sharp instrument, and making the letters ;NE. L. When I saw that, I gave up all thought of returning it until I heard from you. Of course, as far as I know, it may have come into his possession fairly. The young lady may have given it to him. But ~tiil, he being under suspicion, a~id this be- ing a puspicious sort of circumstance, I had no notion ofputting out of my hands what might be an important proof. So I locked it up in my trunk, and went out to finish m~ walk. The first person I paw when I got in the street was Mr. Harding. He said he was very glad to meet me, as I was the person who was in the post-office just after he left it, and he wanted to ask me if I had b4ppened to find a small seal which he thought he had dropped in there. I was obliged to tell him I had not seen it, and I asked him why he thought he had dropped it there, and remarked that he might have dropped it in the street. He said no, he did not think so, that he remembered touching it with his hand the minute before he went into the office, and that he could not recol- lect any thing about it afterward, and he, missed it just before he got home. He said he haLted to lose it, and:he looked quite con- fusedI thought, and turned i~ery red. And thenhe said the reason why he did not like to losp ~t was that jt was a present from a lady friend of his, We had got to the post-office by this time, and I walked along in with him, to hear if any thing, elpe would turn up about it. The postmaster did not know any thing t~bout it, of course, ,and Mr. Hard- ing described it to him very particularly, and made him band out the letter he had put in the office at the time that he lost th~ seal, to show him the impression of it. lie showed it tome too, and when I had looked at the seal and was returning the letter, I took the liberty of looking at the name on the back. It was Miss Livinia Crane, Ed- gerton. I have been careful to give you a full account of this, though it may seem a little thing. I shall keep the seal till I hear from you, which I hope will be soon. "YQur ob4t servant, "Ilon'T ATKINs." Conway put the letter down, and took the seal. Before doino. so he felt con- up fident that it would substantiate all he sus- pected from the first; and he was not even faintly surprised when he saw the same im- pression that he had seen scarcely an hour before on the back of Mabel's letter. He gave only one glance, and held it out for Mr. Seyton's inspection. "Look at it, sir," he said. "Do you recognize it?" Mr. Sexton looked, and a single glance was enough for him also. His eyes lingered only one instant on the device, and then raised themselves to the pale, set face of his nephew. "Yes," he answered. "It is Mabel's. She has worn it on her chatelaine for a year or more; and the "-his voice faltered slight- ly-" the last note I received from her was sealed with it. Still," he went ou quickly, "this is not absolute proof of any thing against Cyril. Remember, it may have come into his possession quite fairly, and-" "Stop one moment, sir," Conway inter- rupted. "Before you proceed any further, let me tell you that something later than the note of which you speak, later than any thing which Mabel wrote in her own home, has been sealed with that impression. The same mail which brought these, letters to me, brought to Miss Constance a letter pur- porting to come from her sister." "A letter I-purporting to come from* her sister!" Mr. Sexton's amazement was greater than that of any one else bad been, and hip ezoitement i~iuch more apparent. ]?reoo- eupied as Conway was, he could not help but being struck by the change that had I A LOST come over the face at which he gazed-the face that a moment before had been listless with the weary listlessness of hope deferred, but that now quivered and glowed with sudden emotion, whose eyes brightened, and into whose sunken cheeks there flamed a crimson color that made the young man regret having spoken with too much haste. "Yes, a letter," he said. "But don't hope any thing, sir. It was a forgery. Both Kowell and myself clearly recognized that." "A forgery!" "Yes, a forgery." "'And-and sealed with this seal ?" "Sealed with that seal." The color faded from Mr. Seyton's face, and the li~ht from his eyes-instead of that I, light there came into the latter a look of horror-stricken amaze. lie looked at his nephew for a minute before he spoke again, very slowly: "You are sure of this, Phili~~" "I am as sure as that I stand here, sir. Miss Lee identified the seal at once." "As-don't wonder if I am slow to com- prehend-as the same with this?" "As identically the same." My God I" He sank back in his chair, and covered his face with his hands. After that, there was silence in the room for several minutes. Conway did not share his uncle's.feelings in the least degree-l~e could hardly, indeed, realize the horror that came upon this gal- lant gentleman with the appalling thought that the traitor had been of his own house- hold and his own blood; but he recognized the existence of these feelings, and respected them sufficiently to keep silent. Taking up Atkins's letter, he occupied himself in read- ing it over-this time slowly and attentively ~~and, when he came to the end, Mr. Seyton looked up and spoke. "Tell me about it-every thing," lie said, hoarsely. "There is not much to tefl," Conway answered. But he went over the whole statement concisely, while his uncle listened without interruption, until he mentioned the post-mark of the letter. Then he point- ed to the missive, lying on the table. TRINKET. "Does not he speak of Edgerton?" he asked. Conway replied, by reading aloud that portion of Atkins's story which related to the better he had seen in the post-office. "Miss Lavinia Crane, Edgerton," he read; andthen looked up at his uncle. "It wilibe easy to substantiate this," he said, "by simply in- quiring whether or not Miss Crane was in Edgerton at the time." "But you surely don't-you surely can't -suspect her of complicity in such a mat- ter?" "Suspect her 1" said Conway, firing into the ~uddeu passionate energy which had broken out once before that day. "I would suspect my own brother-my own sister-if proof went against them, sir? In a matter of this kind, we cannot stop to consider probability, or to weigh the re- spectability of any one toward whom the evidence may point. We must follow out a clew exactly as it is given to us; and accept the conclusion presented, let it implicate whom it will. I should be a fool, if I allowed myself to be brought to a halt here, because Miss Crane becomes involved." "But it is simply impossible! What motive could she have?" "That is more than I can tell you- more, indeed, than I care to consider. She may have a motive of which we know nothing, or she may only be a blind instru- ment. In either case, our nest means of prosecuting the search is through her." "And what will you do?" "I cannot say, until I go to Ayre and see 1{owell." "See li~Towell! But he-" "Would quite as soon care to see the devil," answered the young man, bitterly; "but I cannot stop to consider his feelings. He has a right to be informed of this; arid, as a lawyer, lie will be able to judge what our next step ought to be, better than I can." "And he is safe," said Mr. Seyton, in ~ low voice. It was significant of the man's nature, that although he, too, was in a measure possessed by the reckless detective fever and passionate readiness to suspect anybody and everybody, which had taken absolute control of Conway, yet he still page: 118-119[View Page 118-119] MABEL LE~ ALL AT SEA. 119 clung tothat regard forfamily honor whiel all his lifetime had been dearer to hin then life itself. When lie ~,&nsented to th watch which Conway proposed establish irig oi'er Cyril Harding, he had only don so 'en condition of its profound secrecy A~id now-now, when he felt more swayed than ever before toward Conway's belief, lie had still a thought for the name which had never been tarnished, and over which there hung this black cloud of positive dis- grace. "He is safe," he said, alluding to I~Towell, and then he spoke warmly to his nePhew., "I~on't be rash or precipitate, Philip. Remember you may do incalculable harm if your suspicions are well founded, and you betray them too soon~7~ "Trust me for that, sir," Conway re- plied, as he folded Atkins's letter and placed it in his* pocket. "I will follow the trail like a~bloodhound; but you need not fear mygiving tongue, until I have proved every 'thing. I shall go.to Ayre now, and I can- not tell how long I may be detained there. Doi~'t wait dinner for me, if I am not back In time." He took his whip from the table where he had 'thrown it' on his entrance, and turned to leave the room. Mr. Seyton looked wistfully at the retreating figure, hut made ho effort to detain him; and, a moment af- terward, Mazeppa's hoofs were heard clat- tering' down the avenue, and dying away in 'the distance. CHAPTER XXI. ALL AT SEA. "Is your master in his office?" - Conway reined up at the sidewalk, and asked this question of a half-grown negro who was lounging at the doorstep of Now- ell'soffice, and who started and touched his hat as he replied: "My master? No, sir: he's just left "Left town!" This unexpected informa- tion took the interlocutor so completely by' surprise, that' he could only stare for a mo- ~ngnt. "Left town-~you must be mistaken." The boy~grinned a little, apparently at the idea of being mistaken. '%No, sir," he repeated. "He's left - town, and I'm to lock up the office and take the key to Mr.' Bradford; and if you're on business " "I'm not on business. When did he go?" "'Bout an hour ago, air.~~ * "Gone into the country, you mean-not * far, surely." "He didn't say where he was gem', sir; but I think he was goin' pretty fur. He made me pack his valise, and he said as how he specterd to ketch the stage at R ." "And did he leave no message for any- body?" "He lef' a note for Miss Constance Lee, sir, and I took it and give it to her as soon as he was gone. If you're on business, sir-" "I'm not on' business," repeated Con- way, this time quite sharply; and then he turned and rode away. It was like his luck, he thought, impatiently. And yet it was wonderful how soon he forgot the incon- venience and vexation to himself, in trying to conjecture where Kowell could have gone, and wha~ could possibly have taken him away from Ayre at such a time as this. He had left an hour ago, the boy said-and it had not been quite two hours since they parted in Mrs. Lee's house. Could the letter have furnished him with any information, any clew which had taken him away? But that was clearly impossible. 1~owell had none of his own newly-acquired light upon the letter; and he could not~ have discovered any thing for himself. It was impossible; and yet, it was very strange. The more he thought of it, the more strange it appeared, until at last he tried to shake off the grow- ing interest and curiosity which beset him. Might not some professional business have called the young lawyer away? But in a moment he saw how impossible that sup. position was. :Not to make his fortune a dozen times over would l~owell have left Ayre on professional business at such a ti~ne as this-a time when the cloud over his Qousin's fate had never seemed deeper or darker; and when something which might, perhaps, prove an important clew, had un- expectedly been placed in their hands. Con- way gave an impatient jerk at Mazeppa's rein, as he realized how wide of the mark his conjectures were; and then the thought that, after all, Constance might know every thing about the matter, seemed to quicken his pace so materially that in a few minutes lie had again dismounted at Mrs. Lee's gate. It was Nancy who answered his knock at the door; but he had not long to wait until Constance came down. She scarcely gave him time for any explanation before she spoke hurriedly. "I am very glad you have come. Per- haps you can tell me-or at least help me to comprehend- the meaning of this." She extended a folded paper as she spoke. Taking itl he opened it without a word. A few hasty lines in pencil were all it con- tamed: "DBAu CONsTANCE: I have found a clew which may, or may not, prove of value; but I start at once to follow it up. I tell you this, because you desired me not to keep you in ignorance of any thing which might occur, and not because I wish you to indulge %hopes that may not be realized. The clew is so slight that I entertain little or no expec- tation of success; but I shall try to trace it out. I do not tell you where I am going, for I hardly know myself. Besides, I do not wish your friend Mr. Conway enlight- ened on the subject; and. I know that, if I told you, you would tell him. If I make any discovery, you shall hear from me; but once more let me repeat-hope nothing. "Truly, etc., FRANciS NewELL." Conway read this brief and most unsat- isfactory document twice over, before he raised his eyes and met the eager, passion- ate gaze fixed on him-met it with a great deal of unconscious pity in 14s own. "I am sorry that I can tell you noth- ing," he said. "But this is as sudden, as incomprehensible, to m& as tc~ you. I heard only-a moroent ago that your cousinj~ad left town; and I came here.hopiug that you knew why he had done so." "I know nothing more than that," she answered, "and, ever since it ~came, I have been vainly trying to imagine what the clew ~to which he alludes can be. I believe I should not have showed it to you," she went on hastily, "but I forget every thing now except the one absorbing subject. Try to forgive him, Mr. Conway. He is very unjust, but he means well." "There is nothing to forgive," said Con- way, quietly. "Mr. Newell has been fo~h ish enough to let judgment wait upon prejudice; but if he held me twice as guilty as he does I could not feel any resentment against him. We are both working for the same end-that is a bond of good feeling, little as he thinks so. Now, let us consider this matter. What clew do you think he can possibly have found?" Constance shook her head with an air of very hopeless despondency. "I cannot even conjecture. It must be connected with the letter; and yet the let- ter seemed barren of clew." "Did he return it?" "Yes, it was enclosed with this. He might have told me, if only to prevent the perpetual torment which this effort to din- cover will prove," she went on; '~ but it is ~hike Francis-like him, as I have always known him-to act so. Mr. Conway, look at the matter-think of it. Surely you must be able to tell what it is!" She gazed at him, with a world oi~ en- treaty in her eyes, which he found it very hard to meet, very hard to answer with the hopeless negative which was all he had to give in reply. But the matter was even more mysterious to him 'than to her; and it was necessary to say as much. He' did say so, after a moment, and then he asked if it was not possible that Father Lawrence might be better informed. "No," she replied. "Father Lawrence was still here when Francis's note arrived, and his surprise was equal to "Thenote came immediately after 17 left, did it not?" "In about a quarter of an hour after- .ward." "I don't understand it," he niutteredto himself. Then, catching Constanee'.s auz- E&BEL LEE. page: 120-121[View Page 120-121] 120 MABEL LEE. ious glance, he added aloud: "The matter eeems strange enough to you, but it is ren- dered doubly strange to me, by a letter which I found awaiting me at Seyton, and which I brought at once to Ayre to show to your cousin. A. letter "-he paused a mo- ment -" a letter which certainly does afford a "Mr. Conway! It was a gasp which she gave-a gasp that, together with her increasing paleness, so much alarmed him that he moved has- tily toward her. But she recovered herself almost immediately, and, by the time he gained her side, looked up at him with a faint.smile. "Never mind about me. It was only the surprise. Tell me-what is the cl~w?" "You are sure you can stand any more?" lie asked? anxiously. "It seems to me that I have lost all sense, all judgment, or 1 would never have shocked you so." "You did not shock me; and the best thing you can do now is to tell me-tell me all about it." He perceived that himself; so, drawing Atkins's letter from his pocket, he opened it and showed her the seal. She recognized it at odc~, as she felt confident she would. "It is Mabel's,"she said. "It is identi- cal with the one on the envelope." "Will you get the envelope, and let us compare them?" "Yes, certainly." She started to leave the room; then, as If struck by a sudden thought1 turned back, "I quite forgot," she said, "Francis re- turned the letter, but not the envelope." '~ What I-he did not return the enve- lope?" "No, and the omission only occurred to me at this moment." "Then you may rest assured that the envelope has given him his clew," said Conway, eagerly. "But how could it be?" He looked at her, almost as passionately as she had looked at him not many minutes before-looked se if he would, by sheer force of will, master the secret which eluded him. But aftel' a moment another, aspect of the ~ffair occurred to him, and a dark, troubled cloud came into his eyes. "He has carried away' a most important proof," he said; "and he has literally tied my hands until it can be recovered." "How ?-what is it?" He answered her by handing her the detective's letter, and bidding her read it. She did so, eagerly; and, when she finished, looked at him with amazement and incre- dulity struggling together on her face. £~ ~ don't understand," she said. "What does it mean?" He explained to her in a few brief but forcible words his own view of what it meant; and, although she was quick enough to understand him, she was plainly not pre- pared to accept his conclusions. "I cannot believe it," she cried. "I cannot believe that Mr. Harding is impli- cated in such a terrible crime; and as for Lavinia Crane-goodHeavens! Mr. Conway, what motive could she have?" "What difference does it make about her motive, or want of motive?" inquired Conway, almost impatiently. "We mutt deal with facts, not with probabilities. For my part, I should walk on straight to my goal over a hundred Lavinia Cranes. You agree with me that this seal is an important link of proof?" "Yes; I see that clearly." "Then the next thing is to follow the track of inquiry which it opens. Can you tell me whether or not Miss Crane has been in Edgerton?" "She has been away from home-i chance to know that much. Mrs. Crane sends every day to inquire about mamma; and she sent this morning. The servant also brought a basket of fruit; so I had to see her, and return a message of acknowl- edgment. When I asked about the family, she said they were all well except Lavinia, who got home late last night, and was feel- ing badly from travelling," "Travelling from where?" "She did not say, and I did not inquire." "How can I find out? It is important that I should know." Constance thought a moment, and then said: "Perhaps Nancy can tell. Ser~axtts are such gossips, that shemay have hoa~L' "Will you call her and inquire ~" I ALL AT SEA. "Well, no," she said, after a second's consideration. "That might excite her sns- picions. I think I had better go and find out in an informal way whether she knows or not." "Go, by all means." She went, and returned in a few min- utes, with not a little suppressed excitement in her face. Before she spoke, Conway saw that the detective fever had begun to take possession of her also. "Nancy says that the servant told her that Lavinia had been to Edgerton," she said, "and also hinted that it was likely she would be married soon-to Mr. Harding. Stop! Don't think you have gained an im- portant step "-for Conway made an excla- mation-" I have just remembered some- thing whVch overthrows your whole ground- work of proof. Lavinia and Mabel had seals exactly alike." "You cannot be in earnest." "I am, though-entirely in earnest. I remember distinctly the day Mabel bought that seal, and, as it chanced, Lavinia came into the shop while she was doing so. There were only two of them, and she bought the other." "But is it likely that her seal would have Mabel's initials on it?" "..Ah, I had forgotten that! No, of course not." "And if she had really no share in the matter, her seal will be still in her own pos- 5~55j~fl*~~ "But how are we to find out whether ornotitis?" "Easily enough-by sending and asking to borrow it. You can do so on almost any pretext, or by means of the truth, if you prefer it. Write a note; tell her you have received a letter professing to come from Mabel, and wish to identify the seal. Un- der those circumstances, she cannot refuse to lend hers, if she has It." Constance was that rare pearl among her sex-a woman who never wasted words. There was a writing-desk on a side-table, and she went to it at once. In five minutes the ucla was written and dispatched, It wa~ helfan hour at least before an answer wairattw~ed. Then Nancy came in with a note which Constance opened hurriedly. Having done so, she found that this waswhat it had taken Miss Crane half an hour to say: "DEAR CONsTANcE: I regret very much that I have not the seal you wish to borrow. I gave it to a friend some weeks ago, but perhaps you are not aware that only a day or two before Mabel "-['disappeared' scratched out, and 'left home' substituted] -"I exchanged seals with her, she liking best the setting of mine, and I much prefer- ring the setting of hers. You may remem~. ber that there was a difference between them in this respect, and, by referring to the impression of which you speak, you can ea- sily tell whether it was made by my seal- that is, the one which is hers now-for the rim of it had sharp points, while hers was quite plain. I am very sorry to hear that the letter to which you allude is not genu- ine. It would be such a relief to Mrs. Lee and myself, and indeed to all of us, if we could only hear some reliable news of our dear Mabel. With kindest regards tp your mother, "I am sincerely, "LAvmIA CRANE. "P. S.-Perhaps, to avoid any misun- derstanding, I had better say that the friend to whom I gave the seal was Mr. Harding. He always admired the device very much, and desired to use it in sealing his letters to me. The last letter I had from him (re- ceived while 1 was in Edgerton) was sealed with it." Constance had read the note aloud; and now, laying it down, she looked at her com- panion. "Well," she said, "have we gained any thing?" "We have gained the knowledge that if Miss Crane is acting at all in the business, she is acting as a blind instrument) or else that she is playing a very deep game," he answered, dryly. "Why do you think so?" "I think so mainly because of this note, It is too candid, and goes to~ much into de- tail. Perhaps I am morbidly prone to sus- picion-I am perfectly aware that my mind page: 122-123[View Page 122-123] 122 )L&BEL LEE. BROKEN DOWN. 128 is' not in a condition to judge fairly just now-but it looks badly to me." "' But, if your -suspicions were well founded, would she have mentioned the let- ter she-received from Mr. Harding while she was in Edgerton?"' - "Not if she had been wise, undoubtedly. It isprebable, however, that 'she' may have suspected our knowledge of it, and wished by this means to threw us off the scent." "0 Mr.' Conway! "-Constance fairly shrank-" remember, before you say such things that she may be-that there is every reason to believe she is-as innocent as you or I." "If she is innocent, our suspicions will not harm her," said Conway, coolly. "If she is guilty, in any 'degree, let her look to it. As I told you before, we cannot stop to -weigh individual-trustworthiness in such a matter as this. Any detective will tell you that in these cases they generally find the criminal among those who are least sus- pected, who are most held above suspicion;" - "How horrible!" "Yes, horrible, but true. Now, do you see what our next step should be?" "An examination of the seal on the let- ter, of course." "Yes, an examination of the seal on the letter. Until that is done, we cannot move a step farther." "And that cannot be done until we hear from Francis." "No. So it is that, with the best pos- sible motives, Mr. Nowell has made himself a hindrance instead of a help to search. Sorely against my inclination, I will wait one week for that envelope. If, at the end of that time, he has not returned, and is not beard from, I shall start for Virginia." CHAPTER XXII. nuoxux nowir. Tn~ sun of a hot August day was fast sinking to its rest, when a very tired and dusty traveller entered a small Virginia village, and, instead of proceeding to the hotel which swung a conspicuous sigiQ~oss the principal street, stopped to ask a passer- by where he would find the residence of the Rev. :Nfr. Harding; and, after receiving the information, rode away in that direction. It proved to be a substantial house of red brick, situated in a grove of elms, in the suburbs of the town-with a clean gravel- walk leading up to the front doot, a bright brass plate and' knocker, and a general air of respectability and comfort. The traveller left his horse at the gate, went up the walk, knocked at the door, and found his knock almost immediately answered by a lady in *a black-silk dress and white-lace cap, who came rustling down the passage toward him -a lady whom he inlmediately identified as a certain sombre terror of his childhood. "Is Mr. Harding-Mr. Cyril Harding, I mean-at home, madam?" he asked, un- covering at her approach. A pair of stony eyes viewed him with evident suspicion and luAdng recognition- while a stony voice answered, coldly: "My son is not at home at present. He has gone out. But if you will leave your name, or call again in the course of an hour or two-" "Pardon me," interrupted the stranger quickly; "but if you will allow me, I should prefer to wait for him. Is he likely to be long in coming?" "I cannot say. Is your business with him important?" "Very important." * "In that case, I may be able to assist you. I am his mother, sir." "I am happy to make your acquaint- ance," said the gentleman, with a bow and a smile; "but my business is with your son alone." "He may not return for some time." "Still, if you will allow me, I will wait for him." Mrs. Harding drew back, slightly discom- fited. This impenetrable courtesy and steady determination were too much for her. She opened a door on one side. "You Oan wait here," she s~id icily-~- and closed it en him. Warm as the day was, and h~a~ he had been, he absolutely shivered in~l~~epld, vault-like atmosphere that rushed ever 14w, when he entered the room-a room, the blinds of which were all closed, the sashes down, the furniture mulled up in linen, and the general appearance one of cold, sepul- chral solemnity. He looked round him' silently, and had only noted this much when the door opened again, and the stony face looked in. "When my son comes, who shall I tell him is waiting?" Mrs. Harding asked, in the same forbidding voice, and with the same forbidding manner. "An old acquaintance, if you please," the other answered. "Nothing more?" "Nothing more." The door closed again-this time with a perceptible bang-and then an angry rustle of skirts *as heard retreating down the pas- sage. At least three-quarters of an hour elapsed before it opened again, and this time Cyril Harding himself stood on the threshold. He looked a little disturbed-for it is not, at any time, an encouraging thing to hear that a stranger, who declines to give his name, is waiting for one-but this slight uncer- tainty and trepidation changed to downright startled astonishment when he saw who that stranger was. "Good Heavens! " he said. "Conway! -Isityon?" ' - "Yes, it is I," answered the other. "You did not expect me, I dare say. Shut the deer and come in. I have something to say to you." - - "But what has brought-" "Shut the door, and you shall soon hear enough~ What I have to say is not to be said for the benefit of the house." The tone of command was not to be dis- obeyed, excepting by stronger nerves than those of Mr. Harding. He looked a little apprehensively over his shoulder-muttered a word or two, it seemed-and came in; closing the door behind him. His cousin met him in the middle of the floor, but, instead of touching the hand he extended, threw an open letter down on the centre- table which stood between them. - "Don't offer to shake hands with me," he said. "Read that." "What-what is it?" "Read it, and you wrn see." Apparently lost in surprise, Mr. Harding took it up, and Conway watched him nar- rowly as he read the forged letter. When he came to the last word, he folded the sheet, and laid it down again. The first shock was ever, and his usual formality of speech and bearing had returned to him. "I am very glad to hear this news. It is truly gratifying," he said. "I congratu- late my uncle, and the family of the young lady-I suppose I should also congratulate yourself.' But I am at a loss to know how the matter concerns me." "Perhaps you will know when I tell you that the day for this simulation is over," said Conway, sternly. "I don't impugn your wisdom in writing, or causing that let- ter to be written, Mr. Harding; but I do wonder that you did not take more pains to guard against detection than you have done." "I write 1-I cause to be written !-..-M~ Conway, you had better take care what ypu are saying." "Bali!" said Conway, with the sneer which Mr. Blake specially detested' and called "the captain's own"~-" bab I do' you think to intimidate me? You might know better by this time4 There is no gQod in losing temper, Mr. Harding. I- have come here for information: and I mean to have it-if I have to drag it out of your throat! If you were not the person directly con- cerned in the abduction of :Mabel Lee, you had a share in it; and I am here to give-you warning that it will be your best polloy- to acknowledge every thing at once. If she is still unharmed, and you can assist us to rescue her, I am empowered by my uncle to promise that there will be no legal prosecu- tion. But if you refuse__" "I will not hear another word!" 'cried Mr. Harding, losing all his formality in the excitement and passion of the moment. "I will not hear another word! How do you dare to come here to my own, home, and insult me in this manner? I have only one answer for you-leave the house!" "I will leave it when I have finished what I have to say~" ajiswered Conway. page: 124-125[View Page 124-125] 124 MABEL LEE. BROKEN DOWN. 125 "You had better hear me out, and count the consequences of refusal, before you do refuse. I caii assure you of one thing-it will go hard with you if I leave this house without that for which I came into it. Understand clearly, that I only apply to you, as a means of saving time. The clew is in my bands, and you know me well enough to be sure that I will follow it up like a blood-hound~ I will never weary- I will never give up, until I have found her. And when I do-mark my words, Cyril Hardiri~-when I do, you shall be called to a reckoning such as you never even dreamed of! Now do you comprehend the choice offered you ?-and will you tell me your de- cision?" "In all my life," said Mr. Harding, "I '-I never heard any thing to equal this! Do y6u know that such language is action- able, Mr. Conway? I can bear a great, deal -my Christian profession obliges me to bear a great deal-but to be deliberately accused of abducting a young lady for whom I have the highest esteem; and of forging letters -this is more than even Christianity de- mands that I should endure. Once more I must request you to leave the house." "You have decided, then?" said Con- way. "Stop !-I give you five minutes more. For your own sake, you had better think again." "I will not think a moment. Leave the house!" "You absolutely refuse to giv~ me any information about Mabel Lee?" "I hav~e no information to give-not a word. 'I knon~ nothing about her. I have no doubt the letter is genuine. I have no doubt but 'that she has eloped- Don't, Conway! Don't touch me, or I shall call assistance." He retreated backward, and his voice rose into a cry, at the last words, for, almost i.m'consciously, Conway' had made a step toward him,' with a flash of the eye that plainly meant mischief. In a moment-be- fore the latter could speak-the door was burst wide open; and Mrs. Harding rushed mW the room, and threw her arms about her sOn. "Leave the house this instant!" she cried, addressing Conway over her shoulder. "How dare you come here to threaten and attack my son? Is it not enough that you have injured him already by your scheming, and made my brother deprive him of his rightful inheritance, to give it to you-you, an adventurer, a swindler, a murderer, I dare say, if the truth were only known, you have made away with the girl yourself-that is the truth of the matter-and you have come here to charge my son, my honorable, high-minded son, with your own crime! Leave the house-or I shall call the servants toputyonout!" I "Call them, by all means, madam," said Conway. "They will be excellent witnesses of the charge I make against your honor- able, high-minded son. I did not know that he had stationed you at the key-hole, or I might have assured him sooner that I have not the least intention of personal violence. Since you have assisted at the entire interview, I suppose I need not give you any explanation of the business that has brought me here." "I know that if I had been in my son's place, I would have made you leave the house, before you had said five words." He bowed-smiling slightly. "Allow me to acknowledge your kind consideration. I will not intrude upon your hospitality any longer than to repeat the warning I have already given. My uncle, outraged as his feelings have been, is averse, for the sake of his family honor, to making a public scandal of the matter, by instituting legal proceedings against your son-if this course can be avoided. If you 'desire either his personal safety, or honorable reputation; you had better counsel him to regard-" He was interrupted here by his listener; who, forsaking her son for a moment, rushed to the door, and sent her voice echo- ing through the house. "Mr. Harding - Mr. Harding!" she 'cried; "come here this instant!" The' words were like a spell.. Before the instant had elapsed, 'a pair of slippers shuffled hastily down the passage, and an elderly edition o~ Cyril Harding, in dress- ing-gown and wl4te hair, stood in the door. Plainly, Mr. Harding, senior, had beentrained~ p 'I in a good school of prompt marital obe- dience. "You called me, my dear?" he said, peering through his spectacles at the group before him. "Certainly I called you," the lady an- swered, sharply. "If you had any ears, Mr. Harding, you would not have needed to be called! If you had any spirit, you would not have stayed in your study writing, while your son was being murdered, and your wife insulted!', "Murdered !-insulted! " said Mr. Hard- ing, gazing, in a state of bewilderment, from his son, who 'seemed in excellent pres- ervationto his wife, who was evidently in a towering passion. "My dear, what do you mean? I knew nothing-my study-door was closed-and, though I heard your voice, I thought you were only reproving one of the servants, as usual, and-" "And I might have been insulted or any thing else, for all you knew to the contrary! So long as you are left in peace, you care nothing- Do you know who that is? Just answer me-do you know who that is?" "No, my dear,." replied the reverend gentleman, hesitatingly, a~ he looked at Conway, toward whom his wife pointed. "The room is so dark that I cannot see dis- tinctly; but I do not think I am acquainted with the gentleman." "Let me tell you, then, that, while you were mooning over your sermon, your son might have been killed if I-I, a weak wom- an-had not come to his defence. Oh, you need not look at me in that way! It is true -as true as that this man standing here is Philip Conway." At the sound of that name, Mr. Harding recoiled, as if a loaded pistol had been pre- sented at his head. "God bless my soul!" he gasped. "Is this true?" He looked at Conway, and Conway bowed, as he had bowed before in acknowl- edgment of Mrs. Harding's 'desire to see him put out of the house. "That is my. name, sir," he said. "But there~is really no necessity for you to look so alarmed. I do not intend to blow up your house; and-although I regret the no- cessity of contradicting a lady-I have had no intention of murdering your son, or in- sulting your wife. I am"glad to give you this personal assurance, and I amalso glad to see you for another reason. No doubt you have heard of the abduction of Miss Lee, which took place during your son's visit at Seyton House. Are you aware that he rests under a grave suspicion of being implicated in it?" "Who? My son ?-Cyril? You must be mad, sir!" "My madness has excellent method in it then-as he will learn." But-good Heavens !-Oyril, you never mentioned this to me. Who suspects you of such a thing?" "You will have to ask Mr. Conway that," answered Cyril, with as much dig- nity as a man can be expected to possess who is penned in a corner, and mounted guard over, by a ponderous black silk; "I know nothing about it, excepting that he has come here in this unexpected manner, and insulted me by the most groundless charges, and outrageous threats." "Perhaps Mr. Conway will explain him- self?" said the father, turning rpund. "With pleasure, sir," answered Conway. " As a first step to doing so, will you oblige me by reading this?" He extended the forged letter as he spoke, and Mr. Harding was about to take it, when his wife interfered-shortly and sharply. "Are you going to listen to charges like this, Mr. Harding? Are you going to read a vile thing of that sort, with your inno- cent, slandered son standing by? Tear the letter up before his face, and turn him out of the house!" "But, my dear," expostula~ed the hus- band, "if I don't read the lette~', how am I to know what Cyril is accused of?" "What do you want to know for? Af- ter his uncle's mind has been p~$isoned against him, and he has been turned out of' his lawful rights, are you going to let th~ same viper poison your mind too?" "Sir," said the viper in question~ "I be- lieve I heard you mention your st~4y. If you will allow me. to' accompany you there, page: 126-127[View Page 126-127] 126 MABEL LETh ON THE TRACK. 127 I may succeed better in placing the matter before you." "Accompany him there !-~accompany him there indeed! ~ cried Mrs. Harding, *hose voice rose higher every moment. "What do you think Jiim, that he should' take you oft! in secret, to hear slanders against his son?" "What I think him, madam, is not of the least importance," Conway said. "But I perceive that I have little chance of being heard." Before Mrs. Harding could reply, her son gave his first and only indication of manly courage, by putting. her aside and stepping forward. "This matter concerns me," he said, with his usual pomposity, but also with a touch of dignity quite unusual. "I am per. feetly willing that Mr. Conway should lay it, in all its bearii~gs, before my father. It wrn be strange if he has found one proof against me half as strong as the many that were brought against him, before I left Sexton House.~-Hush, mother! let him speak." Turning to the father, Mr. Conway spoke accordingly. His language was forcible, and colored necessarily, though uliiconscious- ly, by his own convictions. He began with * Mr. Harding's own confession that he had overheard the declaration on the island, which (according to general belief) de- stroyed his hopes of the inheritance. This link in the chain of evidence seemed very slight, he said, but it weighed heavily when * taken in connection with after - events. Then came the history of 1~hose after- events: the mysterious disappearance of Mabel; the fact that Mr. Harding alone had been absent on that afternoon; the testi- mony of the man who affirmed that he had met one of the Seyton House trio of geDtle- men with Mabel on the river; and, lastly, the forged letter, and the seal which her sister at once identified as Mabel's1 and which a witness (he did notsay who) was prepared to prove had been in Mr. Harding's posses- sion at the verytime. the letter was written. It was, on the whole, a poor array of evidence-for of course the subtler part of it, the acts,. and words, and tones, that had weighed the most with Mr. Seyton, and even with Conway himself; could have no place in this cold re'sum6 of facts. Regarded from an entirely dispassionate point of view, the most unprejudiced parents alive migbt have been excused if they had listened as incredulously as Mr. and Mrs, Harding did. "Apparently your evidence can be summed up very briefly," said the former. "My son chanced to take a ride on the af- ternoon of the young lady's disappearance, and, on the strength of that accidental ab- sence, you identify him with an unknown man who was seen on the river. As for the letter, it appears that you charge him with forging that, merely because the im- pression on its seal bore some real or fan- cied resemblance to another seal whieh (as he has told you) was given him by another young lady. Really, Mr. Conway, if you have come two hundred miles to tell this story, I am only~ sorry that you should have taken so much trouble for nothing?' Conway took up the open letter, folded and returned it to his pocket, before he an- swered. Then he spoke very quietly: "The array of evidence looks very slight to you, sir, of course, and equally, of course, your feeling is all with your son. I have done my part, in placing the matter before you. Once more-" and he turned to his cousin, as he spoke-" do you refuse to make a compromise, while there is yet time? Remember that, after I have crossed this threshold, your opportunity is past. After to-day, I shall speak by the law, if the law will reach you. If not, by another and even surer means." He looked keenly into the face before him, but he read there not even so much as one token of yielding, It was very white, and the lips quivered a little, as if from physical fear; but that was all. Evidently, if this man were possessed of the secret, he felt so secure of the absence of any serious proof against him that it would be neces- sary to wring it from him by a sterner method than this had been. "You are resolved?" Conway asked, without removing his eyes, And the answer came, exactly likethose answers that had gone before. interview - broke forth in those words. "I DO not~tell you where I am going, for There was something fairly tragic in his I hardly know myself;" had been Nowell's tone, as he hurled the~ like a curse at the assurance to his cousin, in the brief note he assembled family; and~ then, turning round, left behind, when he took his sudden de- quitted the room without another word. parture from Ayre. Yet, despite this assur- ance, he never halted or tarried on his jour- Late that night, he entered his chamber ney until he found himself in the city of at the hotel, and, closing the door, sank Charleston. Arriving in the morning, he wearily into a chair. All the evening, he arranged his toilet, and dispatched his had been busily engaged in endeavoring to ~breakfast with a degree of uncivilized haste discover every thing possible about Cyril of which he had never before in his life Harding's daily life-his habits, his occupa- been guilty; and, sallying forth from his tions, even his most trivial customs-but it hotel, soon paused at the bourne which had had all proved vain and fruitless labor. He brought him so far-a small stationer's shop had failed to find one single circumstance at the upper, least fashionable part of Xing to help him in his search. From all that he Street. could learn, thelife of the man whom he sus- The buildings all around were wonder- pected seemed fair and open as the day-a fully dark and dingy Jew stores, principally page for all the world to read. Sonic people with pinchbeck jewelry in the windows, spoke laughingly of his austere piety and and signs promising cheap bargains on the formal manners, but even these appeared outside; but this little spot possessed a to respect, though they laughed; and no brightness and order of its own, that made one ventured to say that his character was it seem almost like an oasis in the desert. not above the faintest breath of reproach. It was exceedingly tiny, but a liberal use of At the very outset of his undertaking, Con- bright paint had so freshened up the inte- way seemed to have encountered an insu- nor, that it looked as inviting as the cav~ operable obstacle to further discovery. ernous entrances near by were the reverse; "I feared it would be so,~' he muttered while the window was arranged with a to himself; as he sat moodily staring at the taste and a skill which are often lacking in floor. "The clew is so slight, the evidence the largest aml most elegant of American so frail-'-.what else could I expect? I knew shops. It made a very effective display of that intimidation was almost the onlyhope; fancy stationery, and the many trifles sup- and it failed completely. I counted too posed to be connected therewith -trifles much on his cowardice, and too little on his such as papier-m~zch6 writing-desks, ink~ sagacity, it seems-~--yet who was to think stands of rare and curious device, ivory id'atii~possessed any of the last? The j paper-knives, crystal paper-weights, and all qu*tion ~iow is, What to do next? Truly the extensive paraphernalia of writing at I "There is nothing to resolve. I am ig- norant of every thing you wish to know. As for your accusations and threats, I leave them to fall back on your own head, when you learn their injustice." Conway smiled bitterly. "That is a degree of Christian charity worthy of so eminent a follower of the Pharisees. Hear my wish now: that when the bolt of discovery falls-as it will fall, sooner or later-it may blight every human soul connected with the perpetration of this dastardly outrage!" All the passion within him-the passion he had curbed so steadily throughout the I think it would puzzle the best detective in the Paris force. There is one thing, out of all the mist, which I see clearly-my own determination never to relinquish the pur- suit." It was undoubtedly his determination, but none the less he felt, to the very core of his heart, that the clew had suddenly and entirely broken down in 1)18 hands. -4-- CHAPTER XXIII. ON TIlE TRACK. page: 128-129[View Page 128-129] 12$ MABEL LEE. ease. A French name was lettered over the door and when :N~owell entered he saw that it was a French face whose bright brown eyes looked up at him from behind the counter. The face belonged to a short, stout figure, and would have been extreme- ly yo~mthful' in appearance if the white hair surrounding it had not imparted something of the aspect of age. The fresh, rosy com- plexion contrasted with this very well, how- ever, and a beanilug smile seconded the wdnderfully perfect courtesy of his nation, as the little man crossed his hands one over the other and bowed deeply. "Votre servant, sare," he said, in very broken English. "Vat may I haf ze honor to show you, sar?" Nowell glanced round him in some per- plexity-he had come so little prepared for his part, that he did not even possess a ready-made want~ "I would like to see some writing- paper," he said, after a pause, "and-and envelopes, if you please." "Papaire and envelopes," repeated the little man. "Oui, oui; I haf zem, sare, and of ze best. Will you haf zem to mach?" "To do what? " asked Nowell, in some surprise. "To mach-is not that what you would say? To be alike-to suit." "Oh, to match~ Yes--no-that is, I would prefer them like this." And he laid down on the counter the envelope in which the forged letter had been enclosed, but whichhe had not returned with that letter. The Frenchman bent his head to exam- ine it, an4 thea looked up again~ he said, "I haf plenty like dat, flat corned from my stock." "Yes, I know it did. I saw your mark on it. And have you more of the same sort?" "Plenty," repeated the little stationer~ with a sigh. "I haf no moock custom, sare. Zese peoples zey likes bigger shops zan mine; and yet, m'sieur, zey finds no such papaire elsewhere as what I keeps; for I brought it viz me from Paris." "You are lately from Paris, then?" asked Newell, who had his own reasons for desiring to make the small foreigner as communicative as possible. The bright brown eyes looked up at him, sadly enough in reply. "Oni, m'sianr, I an~ vaire lately from Paris. I vas in trouble dere, and one kind good countryman of yours, he lends me ze money for to come way, and I comes here where he lifs and can help me. Are nose no envelopes, sare?" "Yes, these are the ones," said Nowell, comparing the envelope in his hand with the contents of a box which the Frenchman placed before him. "These are the ones. You can put me up two packages. The box seems quite full; so I suppose you have not sold any of them before." "Vaire few, saire-vaire few. Zese peo- pbs zey know noting whatevare about good stationerie. Zey minds noting about how zey writes zero lettaire-nor what zey writes zem on. Va! So zey can be reads, nat is all zey cares. Now, zese are vairo fine envelopes, sare." "Yes," said Nowell. "I don't know much about such things, but I can see that they are fine." "Well, sare, you may not believe me, but I haf sold them to but one person before you comed-but one person, sare." "And who was that?" asked Newell, eagerly, for the next winding of the clew seemed almost within his grasp-far nearer than he had dared to hope it would be. "Zat person," said the little Frenchman, busily tying up the bundle of envelopes, as he spoke, "nat person, sare, was my goot front vat helped me here-my front vat help me yet all the time. Is nis all sure? You said papaire, did you not?" "Paper, yes," answered Nowell, has- tily~ "The finest you have. This will do." "No, Bare; zat will not do," said the stationer, removing from under his hand some paper that had been lying on the count- er. "You zay you want no finest I haf, Zat am not ne finest I haf, sare. I haf oder much finer, sure." So Newell stood by, possessed with the very spirit of impatience, while he opened and shut drawers innun~orable, sha14x~g. his head over each. "Non," he went on ~y- I I ON THE TRACK. 129 ing. "Zis not de finest," until at last ti scant patience of his customer gave way. "That will do," he said. "Any will d( I assure you. I am in haste. I really cci not wait-" "Ab, here it is!" exclaimed the othei who was not paying the least attention t him, but had suddenly jerked out a drawei and found what he wanted. "Here it ii sare!" he said, bringing forward som creamy-tinted paper, which bore the fines Paris niark, and looked as if it was mean for nothing but billet-dour purposes. Now oil had 'about as much use for it as he woul have had for the pen from a pigeon's wing and the violet-colored ink which shoul properly. have accompanied it. But h bought largely, nevertheless, and then feli at liberty to bring the conversation bacb to the question which was tormenting him. ~ "Your friend, who helped you to come over from Paris, must be a very kind per- son," he said. "Is he a Charlestonian?" "Oni, in'siour," said the little man, with a grateful moisture shimmering at once over his eyes. "He is a Sharlostonian. He lifs here, and ho is vairo goot-vaire, vaire goot, ni "Perhaps I know him. You would not mind telling me his name, would you?" "Non, m'siour. Vhy should I mind? Efory one mnst know him to be a goot man. Lo hon Dieu knows it, I am nure. He is not-" "But I thought you wor& going to tell me his name?" "Oni; and so 1 am. His name is Mon- sieur Ainslie." "1 knew it," said Nowoll, half aloud. And, strange to say, he felt that he had known it all along-known that the poor little foreigner's generous patron could only bethe man whom he had met as Mr. Sey- ton's guest, and Philip Conway's friefid. Yet, now that the confirmation of this knowledge placed the next winding of the clew in his hands, he saw, with bitter dis- appointment, how far he was from time end. Aizislie! He could not, by any stretch of. imagination, connect Mabel's disappearance with Aim: Ever since he entered the shop, .9 'e he had expected to hear of him; and yet, now that he had done so, he felt that it was )~ impossible to accept the conollialon pre- i~ rented. Despite his being Conway's friend, he had liked him cordially, and trustedhim ~, entirely; and he could not bring himself to o believe-what he would have suspected quickly enough of any other man-that he ,, had any share in the abduction. The en- e velope might have passed from his posses- t sion to that of his friend, in the most natu- t ral manner possible. And yet, perhaps, it - was his duty to follow out the clew as it I was presented to him; or, in other words, to track Ainslie down, as a means of un- I masking the friend for whom he might be acting. He hesitated only a moment over this doubt; then he turned round to the lit- tle shopkeeper with a good deal of the brusque sharpness that, young as ho was, made witnesses tremble before his cross- examinations. * "I know Mr. Ainslie well," he said "and I am anxious to see him. Can you give me his address?" "Oui, m'sieur, viz plasir. But, if you vish to see him vaire soon, ze club might be-" "I wish to see him privately. I don't care~ to go to the club. Where does he live?" "He lifs, m'sieur, at No. -, Rootledge Street. You will find him zere most times, vhen he is not at the club." Newell made his acknowledgments, and, pocketing his paper, left the shop. As lie walked slowly and meditatively down King Street, he resolved in his mind what his best course of action would be. He must see Ainslie-there wa~ no question as to that. One critical examination of the man's face would enable him, he doubted not, to judge whether he was guilty of the complicity in Conway's ~irime, which cir- cumstances seemed to indicate. Satisfied on this point, his way was clear beforeliho; but at present he fell; m6re hopelessly per- plexed than ever before, dark as the affair had been from the first. Yeshe must sec Ainshie-but how? Call on him?-..-and up. on wbatpretence ?L Seek aud question him with an abrupt directness that might so page: 130-131[View Page 130-131] 130 MABEL LEE. ON THE TRACK. 131 take him by surprise as to make his counte- nauc? betray him? Caution said no ; "the slightest manifestation of suspicion would be putting him on his guard. Call on him in 'n~i~e social way, as being accidentally in~to~ji upon business, and unable to deny hi~nself the pleasure of renewing so agreea- ble an acquaintance as that of Mr. Ainslie? He dismissed this thought at once, as un- worthy. No, social treason for him; he left that for Conway & Co., if Ainslie made one of such a. firm.. No, he thought, he must meet the man upon neutral ground; meet him apparently by accident; and meantime he would obtain all possible information concerning him; what was his character- what his manner of life. He had now been so absorbed in reverie as to pass, without notice, the street which he ought to have taken on his way back to the Charleston Hotel. 'Becoming suddenly awake to his surroundings, he perceived that he had reachedd the point at which King is inter- sected by Broad Street. He turned into the last named, and, not wishing again to lose his way and his time by forgetfulness, was careful to keep his thoughts about him, as he traversed the square between King and Meeting Streets, and turned up toward the hotel. His eyes being open accordingly, he had not taken three steps after turning the corner, ere his, attention was attracted by the figure of a gentleman who made one of a group standing on the pavement just in front of Hibernian Hall. When his eye first fell upon the man (whose back was that way), he absolutely started, thinking that rlAll~ Conway was before him; but a second glance showed him his mistake. The hair was brown,, instead of black, and the form, though of the same height and gex~eral appearance, lacked the grace and syminetryso remarkable in that of his hated rival. It was Ainslie h~e saw. His late ab- sence ~f mind, in bringing ~him several squares out of hi~ way, had given him the accidental meeting for which he was at that very moment wishing. Slackening his pace, he had ample time to regaixi the composure of countenance which the first sight of Ainslie had some- what disturbed; and was fully prepared for. the interview, not only with imperturbable self-possession on his own, part, but also t'y note carefully the effect which his unex- pected appearance would produce upon the other. When he was within a few yards of the group, it suddenly separated, t~iree of the four gentlemen of which it consisted passing down the street, and of course meeting him, while the fourth, Ainslie him- self; went on in the opposite direction. But he had scarcely parted from the others, be- fore he turned suddenly to speak to them again; and he started violently, as Nowell could not but remark, when he saw the young lawyer. That astute observer ac- knowledged to himself; however, that, if the start was caused by any thing save surprise, Mr. Ainslie was wonderfully quick in recov- ering himself. He advanced at once in the easiest, most graceful manner, expressing, in terms which, though cordial in the ex- treme, did not sound exaggerated, his pleas- ure at so unlooked-for a meeting. And all the while he spoke, while asking about Nowell himself; and then inquiring after his other friends and acquaintances in the up- country, there was in his air, his voice, his looks, a certain respectful sadness, which, much more eloquently than any words he could have uttered, expressed his recollec- tion of the last days he had spent in the up- country, and his sympathy with the grief of those days. Newell was particularly pleased by the tact with which he avoided the mention of Conway's name; and, thaw- ing a little from his ordinary fl~edness of manner, he with perfect sincerity assured Mr. Ainslie that he was very glad to see him. They had walked on together while ex- changing these first greetings; and now Ainslie said, with apologetic 'hesitation of manner: "I hope, Mr. Newell, you will not think I take too great a liberty in asking if you have made any discovery yet about Miss Lee's disappearance?" Newell shook his head. "None what- ever." After a rapid mental consideration as to the expediency of mentioning tha let- ter, he added: "My cousin was very nmeh excited a day or two before I left honte, by I receiving a letter which purported to I from her sister. I saw at once that it w~ a forgery, and so Constance perceived, soon as the fact was suggested to her." "A forgery? "A forgery without doubt." "That isatrange," said Ainslie, though: fully; "very strange I" "Not more so than all that preceded it, answered Newell, compelling himself by great effort to continue, or at least not t decline, discussing the subject - bitterly painful as the slightest allusion to it was t him. "And did the letter afford no clew b; which to detect the writer-the post-marl~ for instance I" "It would be a bungler, indeed, .wh4 would betray himself by voluntarily putting~ any thing which could afford a clew into on: hands. The post-mark-no. Like the let. ter itself; it was clearly intended to bliuc inquiry. It is that of Edgerton. Of course~ the letter was mailed there on purpose tc gi*~e~ a false clew, if we had been so simple m to fall into the trap." "And you have not even written te make inquiries of the postmaster? I can't but think-pardon me-that it might be well to do that." "I promised my cousin that I would sift the thing to the bottom, on my return home, if nothing had in the mean time been dis- covered. But no information can be gained, I am sure, through the medium of the post- office." He paused. "I am sorry I must say good-morning here, Mr. Ainslie. I am just returning to my room "-he motioned toward the Charleston Hotel, opposite to which they were standing-" t~ prepare a business paper, and am engaged for the Whole day; so that I shall notprobablyhave the pleasure of seeing. you again. But I am glad to have met you." "But you are not leaving town at once, I suppose? Can't you dine with me? I shall he delighted' to see you at my house, No. -RutledgeStreet, at any hour most con- venierit toyon, from three to eight o'clock, or Iater% if you prefer~" he added, laughingly. "Thank you.. I am sorry to say that it is impossible. I am extremely anxious to )e get back to Ayre; and, the moment that I ~s have concluded the business which brought m me here, I shall leava-to-morrow morning, or it may be to-night." Ainslie expressed his regret, seeming really, as he said, much disappointed at see- I- ing so little of Mr. Nowell. He even endeav- ored to alter the decision of that gentleman " with regard to declining his invitation to a dinner. But Newell was immovable. Re- o eating his assurance that he had an impor- y tant business paper to wri1~e, and several o engagements afterward that would occupy him all day, he shook hands, in very friendly y spirit, apparently, and, crossing the street, ., entered the hotel. Ainslie stood still, looking after him, ' until he vanished within the open portal, ~ then muttering, half alou~I, "I am sorry he t' would not dine with me," he sauntered on - up the street. I Newell went to his room, took out his writing-materials, and sat down to the table to go to work. But he seemed in no hurry to commence his task. Leaning his head on his hand, he went over in his mind every look and word of Ainslie-weighing each one / deliberately, and then regarding them col- lectively. "Did any thing in the face or manner look like guilt?" he asked himself. And he could remember hut one thing which had the faintest appearance of it-that first start upon seeing him. Yet, as he had thought at the time, that might have been caused by surprise only. But why, suggest- ed Suspicion, should the mere unexpected sight of a stranger have excited a degree of surprise amounting at the moment to posi- tive emotion? It was singular, assuredly, but not impossible, Reason answered. On the whole, the wished-for meeting had not done much to settle his opinion-had done nothing, in fact, for he was just as much in doubt now as, he had been before. With something like a groan he lifted his head, and suffered his hand to fall p~s- sively to the table. But he soon roused himself from this unaccustomed mood ~f dejectiou~ and began to write, gradually re- ,gaining, as he went on, his habitual energy and intentness of purpose. He was making out a concise statement of the circumstances page: 132-133[View Page 132-133] 132 MABEL LEE. of Mabel's disappearance, as explanatory of the suspicion which he now entertained of Ainsli~'s possible complicity in .herab- duction, which statement he purposed sub- mitting to the chief of police, in order to take counsel with that functionary as to the best means of proceeding in the, watch which he intended to keep upon Ainshie's movements. -4---. CHAPTER XXIV. Two H~AD5 A~E BETTER THAN oxz. Hu had finished a rough draft of his statement, and was reading it over, striking out a good many superfluous words, and al- tering or adding a few, 'when he was inter- rupted'by a knock at his door. "Come in," he said, in no very gracious tone; and lie muttered an exclamation of annoyance, w~ndering who his visitor could be as the door opened, and a servant ad- vanced with - a card.. He had plenty of ac- quaintdnces and 'friends in Charleston; but h~ supposed that most or all of them were out of town at this season, and, even if they were in town, how should "they know that he was there? . Surely it was net Ainslie. The man extended the card at the mo- ment. He took it, glanced at the aalue with a surprise obviously not pleasurablexand looked up. "An old gentlemafi?" he inquired. "Yes, sir an oldish-looking gentle- man." LI Show him up. "Yes, sir." -"Vexatious!" he exclaimed, as soon as the door closed on the man's exit. And then he colored slightly, as if ashamed of his petulance, and pushed his tapers to- gether, thrusting out of sight the sheet he had- been writing. While doing thi~, he suddenly thoughtt him that he ought to have gone down himself to meet his visitor, instead of sending the servant, and he hastened to repair his incivility by going at once. At .the head of the stairs he was met by an elderly gentleman, whose warm greeting made him yet more ashamed of the annoy- ance he felt at the idea of being inter- rupted. "My dear Mr. Lyndsay, I am heartily glad to see you!" he exclaimed, with gen- uine cordiality. "I did not know you were on this side of the Atlantic. You must have arrived very lately." "Yes; a week or ten days ago. I left my family in Virginia, at the White Sulphur Springs1 and came down for a day or two to take a look at the old town and attend to some business. You passed through the portico a moment ago, as I stood there, and, something in your appearance striking me as familiar, I inquired your name, looked in the register, and, finding you were from Ayre, took it for granted that you must be my old friend Hal's son-the little Francis who was in jackets the last time I saw him." "I remember it, and remember you perfectly. You have not changed percepti- bly. I need not ask how you are~ you are lookingso remarkably welL" "I am sorry I can't return the compli- ment," said Mr. Lyndsay, gravely. I~Towell smiled and then laughed at the frankly critical scrutiny with which ~he old gentleman's eye was travelling over his per- son from head to foot. "I don't resemble my father, I have been told," he remarked. "Not much," answered Mr. Lyndsay, sit- ting down and taking off his gloves, for they were by this time in Nowell's room. "When you smile, your face has the expression of his; 1~ut the features are different. And I'm sorry ~to see that you are overworking yourself, my young friend." He shook his head. "Bad policy, believe me. You look ten years old~r than you are. You clever. men generally want to go up-hill too fast. Now, take my advice, which would be your father's if he were living, and pull up for a while in the race you are running. You will reach the goal all the sooner, and not be out of breath when you get there." Nowell laughed again, bu1~ his old friend stopped short the disclaimer he was about to taske. "Oh, I know all that you would say," he went on, with a silencin~'rnotion I I I 'I TWO HEADS ARE. BETTER THAN ONE. of the hand; "but I am not speaking merel from the impression which your appearance gives me, though that would be enough. have heard of you frequently. Last year. met young Tom Rutledge in Paris, and 114 told me that you were one of the mos rising men in the State, both in your pro session and in politics; but that you wer~ working yourself to death." "Tom was mistaken. 1 have never hun myself working too hard. I'm not looking~ well just now-" "Well! You are looking about as badl3 as a man could. . Thin andhaggard-" He paused, struck, it seemed, by som sudden thought, and, drawing his chair closc to Nowell's, laid his hand on the youn~ man's arm, saying earnestly: "Boy, youi father was ~he dearest friend I ever had. We loved each other as brothers. If you are in any trouble, tell me what it is frankly. I may be able to help you out of it; at least I will try. Come, make a clean breast of it! What is the matter?" "My dear Mr. Lyndsay, I am in trouble, in very great trouble," said Nowell, whose eyes had grown strangely moist and bright while his father's friend spoke. "I will tell you what it is directly1 but first I want to ask a question or two.- Are you acquaint- ed with ~ young man - a native Charlesto- nian, I think-Ainshie by name?" "Ainshie?" repeated the other, with the puzzled look of one who is endeavoring to grasp a thought that is playing at hide-and- seek in his men~iory. "Ainslie! That name certainly-O-h!" and his chin elevat- ed itself several inches in the air, and came down a gain, in the emphasis of that ejacula- tion. "I recollect now! I have no person- al acquaintance with him, but I know who you mean. Hum-hum! "he said to himself, looking at Nowell with a very singular ex- pression on his face. "Go on. What of him?" "You don't know, then, any thing about his character ?-whether he is a man of Mr. Lyndsay smiled a very peculiar sn~ile. "I know, absolutely ~nothing about him or, his character, excepting that he is'- the son of the most unmitigated rascal I 13 y ever met with in the whole course of my e life." ".Ah! " "You were too young at the time of s your uncle Lee's death to have understood t much about it, but I suppose you have heard - all the circumstances since?" "Yes," answered Nowehl, a vague ap- prehension beginning to dawn upon him. "Well, Covington - the man who in- veigled Lee and a gooA many others into a bubble speculation which ruined them all- was the father of this Ainslie, as you call him. The thing was manifestly a swindle, for,. while his friends were broken all to pieces, it was universally believed that he himself made an immense fortune by the transaction. A very strong feeling was excited against him, particularly when Lee's death occurred * in the manner it did. He thought it pru- dent to decamp for a while until the storm of public indignation should blow over; and so he went to Europe, and stayed several years. On his return, he changed his name to Ains-. lie, asserting that he did so in consequence of having inherited a large property from a relative of that name in England,' who made it a condition of the inheritance that he should assume his (the legator's) patronymic. -Nobody gave the least credit to his story. He did not recover the social status which he had forfeited, and did not long enjoy his fraudulent gains, dying very shortly after his return." "And Ainslie is ~his son?" "Yes. Has he been playing the same game over again? and induced you to in- volve yourself in some pecuniary venture with him?" Nowell shook his head. "It is no money affair," he replied. "Whether he has any thingto do with it is the point on which I am in doubt, and which I am now trying to ascertain. But you shall hear all about it." He. recounted briefly, but clearly, the history of Mabel's mysterious disappearance, mentioning his own, suspicion of Conway- a suspicion entertained, he said, by the com- munity at. large-gave a detail of the unsuc- cessful search, of the receipt of the letter, of his conviction that it was a forgery; his discovery about the envelope, and finally of page: 134-135[View Page 134-135] the uncertainty he felt as to whether Ains- lie was or was not the agent of Philip Con- way in the abduction of his cousin. Mr. Lyndsay listened with the most ea- ger attention and interest, ~iot interrupting him by a word. When h~ finished speak- ing, the old gentleman was silent for a mo- ment, thinking deeply. Then he said: "Yen seem fully persuaded of Conway's guilt." "I am as firmly convinced of it as I am of my own existence." "Yet, you say, he was engaged to your 00U5in." "He says so. Well, yes-I concede that he was engaged to her." "Then what possible motive could have induced hhn to such a course as this?" "I can't tell, unless it was that he de- spaired~of obtaining his unole's consent to the affair, and wished to get Mabel into his powei', and so force his own terms. Seyton is her godfather, and regards her as his own child. Conway acknowledged that he was aware of his uncle's disapproval of his pre~ tensions." "But, if he has any sense, he could not expect to obtain Seyton's consent by the perpetration of such an outrage as this. Is he' a fool?" "No. He is not very brilliant intellect- ually, but he's not a fool." "And does Seyton suspect him?" Nowell smiled bitterly. "Seyton re- sents the mere suspicion 'of his guilt as an Insult to himself. He has even, on the strength of his partisanship, declared the scoundt~al his heir." "And the motl~er and sister of your cousin-which side do they take?" "My aunt is a weak woman, who has no settled opinion on the subject. She be- I * thieves every thing and nothing by turns. Constance, her daughter, is as much infatn- Med about Conway as his uncle is. But they two are' his only partisans in the whole country. 'Everybody else believes him to be guilty. lie was very nearly mobbed the day I loft ~Ayre, so intense is the indigna- tion that exists against him." "Set me down as a 'third partisan for him~ I can't believe that any man, oompos mentia, would 'have acted as you think he has. And now let me tell you what you must do, Francis. I think you said you told Ainslie that you might leave town this evening." "Yes," answered Nowell with a twinge of conscience, for he was not in the habit of deviating in the least degree from the strict spirit of truth. "Yes; I spoke on the im- pulse of the moment, to excuse myself from dining with him. In fact, I spoke sincerely; for, really, while I was talking to him, I could not believe him capable of such infa- mous treachery. If he is not an honest man, he is the most accomplished dissimu- lator that it has ever been my chance to stumble upon.~~ "Well, he may be honest. It would be hard to condemn a man as a scoundrel be- cause his father was one. But this very fair-seeming which you describe looks mon- strously suspicious to me; it is so much like his father. Of all plausible rogues that I ever saw, Covington was the most plausi- ble. However, we'll give him the benefit of a doubt, both ways. We won't condemn him without proof, and we'll take evety me~ins to obtain proof. And now, to return to the point. It is very well you did tell him you expected to leave, and you must keep your word-go off this evening. Stop -hear me out, before you begin to protest! You intended to apply to the police; well, give me the statement you have made out, and I wrn set them to work. Fortunately, Ikuow the chief very well, and I'll get him to detail me a man for this special service. I know the very man that will do; an hon- est, faithful fellow, and shrewd, too, for whom I once did a little kindness which he has never forgotten. I will obtain leave of absence for him, put him in plain clothes, and set him to watch Ainslie's movements; and I myself can easily find out all about his character and habits. You, meanwhile, will take the Augusta train this evening~ but, instead of going home, you will rui~ down to Savannah, and come over in the next boat. If Ainslie is in this business, either as principal or accomplice, he will of course be alarmed at seeing you here. Your having mentioned the letter to him,' and seemed unsuspicious, may throw him off his guard; bat it will be safest to take every precaution to do so. If you leave as you said, without having exhibited any signs of suspicion, or made any inquiries, he will naturally suppose that your business here was professional-and that you have re- turned home in haste to investigate the affair of the letter. He is sure to keep his eye on you, and will ascertain whether you leave or not; and it is very likely that he may be on the lookout for some days to saG whether you return. If so, he will expect you ~by train. Coming by the boat, you may' escape observation. I will get all the information I can by the time of your ar- rival. tet me see; the next boat-" "But," interposed Nowell, "you said you were hire for a day or two. I can- not think, my dear sir, of detaining you.-" "I came to stay a day or two, but that makes no difference. I will write to my wife not to expect me until she sees me, and I think that, with patience, we shall be able to discover whether this man has had any connection with the outrage." "But why should you take all this trouble and inconvenience, my dear Mr. Lyndsay, when I can-" "Pooh, pooh! I would take five times as much, with pleasure, for little Francis himself;" said Mr. Lyndsay, laughing," and ten times as mueb for his father's son. Come, we'll walk down to Staples's office, and you can stay there a while, then return to dinner, and be off on the Augusta train. Where is the paper?" Nowell drew it forth from where he had placed it, saying, "I must make a clean copy." "Yes," said Mr. Lyndsay, smiling, as he glanced at the illegible-looking page; "I think you had better do so. I will go at once and see the chief of police, and will then meet you at Staples's office. You know his law-office, I suppose?" "Oh, yes." "It is now just twelve o'clock "-he looked athis watch-." when you have fin- ished writing, come down, and, if I am not at the office, wait for me." CHAPTER XXV. THE DOUBLE SEAL O~ BLOOD. WITH a sensation of positive wonder at the strangeness of the position in which he had been placed by the events of the day,' Nowell found himself, late that afternoon, whirling away from Charleston as fast as steam could carry him. He had consented somewhat reluctantly to Mr. Lyndsay's scheme,'and now he began to doubt whether he had not committed a great blunder in consenting at all. Young as he was, he had been accustomed for years to judge exclu- sively for himself; and the habit had natu- rally produced a certain degree of seif-confi- deuce, as well as self-reliance. He was now acting under the direction of another- rather in opposition to, than in accordance with, his own judgment. That spirit of self- accusation, which is always strongest in con- scientious natures, began to exhibit syxnp- toms of becoming a very unpleasant travel- ling companion-suggesting various, reasons why he ought not to have yielded to per- suasion instead of conviction, and number- less objections to the plan which he was ~pursuing. 'But he was not a vain man; his mind was open to reason. So lie silenced the reproaching voice by addressing himself to a thoroughly impartial examination of the question, and it resulted in his entire approval of Mr. Lyndsay's views in the ma1~- ter, and perfect satisfaction with himself for having acceded to those views. Nor was he shaken in this opinion, when accident caused a considerable detention on his way -the train on which he traveled having been brought toa stand-still aboutfifty miles from Savannah, until the c~bri. of two trains-a freight and a gravel-.-~which had collided half an hour before, could be re- moved from the road. It was a work requiring severs1~. hours for its accomplishment, and theconsequenc~ was, that the train was that much behind time, and the boat was gone when they finally reached Savannah. It was an annoying ehancO, and~ N6Well chafed not a little athis aliforced ina6tivity'; 134 MABEL LEE. TlE DOUBLE SEAL OF BLOOD. 135 MABEL LEK page: 136-137[View Page 136-137] l~6 MABEL LEE. THE DOUBLE SEAL OF BLOOD. '37 but there was nothing for it but to wait fo the next boat. And this he did with whs patience he could command. Very glad he was when at last h stepped on board the Medora, and sti] more glad when he stepped upon the whar: at Charleston. Almost as he did so, hi arm was touched by a servant, who said in terrogatively, "Mr. Kowell?" Yes." "Carriage waiting for you, sir, to brin! you to Mr. Lyndsay's. Where shall I fim your luggage, sir?" Nowell pointed to a valise which one ol the boat-hands was bringing after him. Driving hastily through the city to om of the suburbs, the carriage stopped befor a stately old house in a fine shrubbery- garden. Nowell was met at the front doo: by his host, with outstretched hand and words of warmest Welcome. '~ Any news for me?" cried the young man, as they shook hands heartily. "Nothing definite, but something cu- rious at least, in Ainslie's habits. Are you ready for breakfast, or will y~ou go to your room first?" "Thank you, I breakfasted on the boat. I hope you have not waited for me." "Yes; but no matter. Come in and keep me company in a cup of coffee; at least, aad I will tell you all that I have dis- covered. It is not much-it may be noth- ing-but I think it is something. The first thing I did after parting from you," con- tinued Mr. Lyndsay, as they sat down to the breakfast-table, "was to find out what I could. about Ainslie. My inquiries, of course, were conducted cautiously, and all that I learned of his character and habits looked fair enough. lie has been here but a short time, and does not intend to remain much longer; is much engaged with his man of business, making arrangements for a long absence in Europe and the East; is convivial, but not dissipated; very popular among the men he associates with; of good ~ling at the club; very liberal in opin- ion,~ ~s ~the phrase goes; that is (as I have since ascertained), openly, even ostenta- tionsly, amnaterialist. On the whole, though the last item of information did not give me r much respect for his sense, there was noth- ~t ing that would warrant a suspicion of his honor as a man of the world. I was disap- e pointed, I confess, and came home feeling a LI little crestfallen: rather inclined to the be- r lief thatihad sent you~onafool's errand, s and was engaged in the same myself. I - found my policeman waiting for me, having been detailed for special service by his chief, who put him at my command. "'Well, Mike,' said I,' I've got ajob of I work in your line on hand; and I asked your chief to let me have your services, be- cause I know you'll take trouble and do it well for me.' 'That I will, yer honor, de- pind upon it,' said he, and he listened very attentively while I gave him an outline of - your story, and explained what it was that I wanted him to do. I thought it best to make this expoai for two reasons: In the first place, if a man is trustworthy, it is well to let him see that you place confidence in him-he will work with much more zeal * and good-will, and he can, of course, work * much more intelligently, if he knows wh~it he is about, than if led blindfold; and, secondly, a gentleman who interests him- self in another gentleman's private habits ought to have a very good reason to allege for that interest. Mike listened very atten- tively and without comment, until I men- tioned Ainslie's name, lie looked surprised at that. 'What! do you know any thing about him?' I inquired. 'I see him going to mass every morning , yer honor. Sure and he's not the blaggard yer honor suspects of this villany?' 'You must be mistaken, Mike,' said I. 'The man I'm talking of don't go to mass, I'm sure*' But, onques- tioning him, I found that he was right It seems that he is on his beat, which includes part of Broad Street, in the neighborhood of the cathedral, at the hour of early mass every morning; and he says that for the last fortnight he has seen this man go regu- larly to mass when the weather was good. He noticed him first as 'a stranger who had the purtiest big brown eyes he ever saw"' -howell's glance lightened suddenly here -" and so much was the honest fellow struck with those eyes, and the apparent devotion of their owner, that he took the :1 186 MABEL LEE. ' trouble to inquire one day. of an acquaint- ance, when Ainslie was passing him on the street, 'who that gentleman was.' 'A Mr. Ainslie who lives in Rutledge Street,' he was informed. Mike was evidently as- tonished when I told him to attend mass himself the next morning, watch Ainslie carefully, and discover what he was there for. 'Why, av course. yer honor, hers there for what everybody else goes for, to say his prayers.' 'No, he's one of the gentry that don't believe in saying prayers, Mike. You watch him well to-morrow morning, and you'll find he don't go there to say his pray- ers, and, as soon as he leaves the cathedral, come and report to me.~ "I waited, as you may suppose, very im- patiently for his appearance the next morn- ing. 'Yer, right,' were his first words; 'he don't go to mass to say his prayers.' As I had suspected, there was a lady in the case, but-don't fly off with the idea that this lady is your cousin, Francis!" he exclaimed, as Kowell started convulsive- ly, and changed color. "It may be-I hope it is Miss Lee-but there is no positive ground for the belief in the information ac- quired so far. Let me go on with my story, and keep quiet until you hear me out. Well, Mike went to mass the next morning -it was the day after you left, Saturday- and Ainslie duly made his appearance just before the second mass commenced. He placed himself in an obscure position that commanded a view of the door, and, a min- ute afterward, two ladies entered. Ainslie watched them as closely as Mike watched him, but did not approach them. When they left the cathedral, he did not follow them, but went at once to the Charleston Hotel, where he usually breakfasts and reads the papers, it appears-and Mike came to me. I asked if he had noticed the ladies. Of course he had. lie had seen all that was to be seen about them, which was not much, as both wore thick veils. But he was pret- ty sure that one was middle-aged, and the other young. I directed him to follow them the next morning and find out where they lived; and then dismissed hini in haste, so thaiPhe should not relax in his espionage upon Ainslie. He caught that personage with his eye, as he issued from the hotel, after breakfast, and dogged him successfully all day; saw him lounging in Russell's for some time; then he spent an hour or two in an artist's studio after which he took luncheon at an~eating-house, and went from there to the office of his man of business, where he stayed until he went to his club to dinner. After dinner he went~ to his own house, to dress for the evening, probably; and an hour or two before sunset he came out, and walked to a house in Legar~ Street. lie remained there only about half an hour, returning to Rutledge Street, where a horse was waiting for him. lie mounted, and rode off for a canter, apparently. Mike lost sight of him, of course; but learned that he rides every afternoon, lie returned at dusk, and entertained a party of gentlemen that evening. The next morning the weath- er was bad. There had been a rain during the night, and it was still cloudy and threat- ening. Either Ainslie nor the ladies ap- peared at early mass, but, as the day became clear immediately after breakfast, Mike hoped that they might attend high mass. He was disappointed in his expectation, however. Either they were not there, or he could not distinguish them in the crowd; and he failed to catch a glimpse of Ainslie during the whole of that day, though he pa- trolled Rutledge, Legar6, King, and Meet- ing Streets diligently. On Monday morn- ing he came to me jubilant, his game in view again-all three at the cathedral-he, had seen the younger lady's face as she crossed herself, and he had traced them out to the house in Legar~ Street. He described the lady's face as beautiful-" "Did ho mention the color of her eyes and hair?" demanded howell, eagerly. "She has blue eyes, he says. lie did not notice the color of her hair. I made him precede me to the street, and point out the house, which I know very wefl, as hav- ing been on lease for a good many years past. It belongs to a minor. I easily dis.- covered the name of the agent who has it in charge, and from him I learned that his ten- ant is, or calls himself, a Mr. Garland, who applied to him some time about the first of the month of June, to rent this house, say- page: 138-139[View Page 138-139] 138 MABEL LEE. ing that he was in very ill-bealth-he's a sickly-looking man, the agent says-and had teen. recommended by his physicians to try sea-air. lie came to Charleston because he would have the benefit of a mild climate and good medical attendance~ as well as sea- air; expected to spend the fall and winter here, if the climate agreed with him; but, as he was not sure that it would, he pre- ferred to take the house by the quarter-of- fered to pay the rent in advance, and did not stickle at the price. It was a straight- enough story, and, as the house had been unoccupied for some time, the agent caught at the id~a of what promised him a good tenant. As a matter of form, he inquired if Mr. Garland would give him a city refer- once, etc., and Mr. Garland immediately re- ferred him to Ainslie's man of business, who, in reply to the agent's inquiries, stated that he had been instructed by Mr. Ainslie to render any attention and service in his pow4.~r to Mr. Garland, a particular friend of his (Ainslie's), and that, if the agent de- sired it, he would stand Mr. Garland's se- curity for the payment of the rent. The agent was' satisfied, the bargain struck, and upholsterers were set to work at once to furnish a few rooms, Mr. Garland explaining that his family was small, consisting of him.. self, his wife, and an orphan niece. A couple of Irish servants were engaged- 1 cook and housemaid-and put in charge of the establishment; and Mr. Garland, who remained in town for several days to en- perintend these arrangements, then left to I bring down his wife and niece, he said. The serva~its were to have every thing in readiness for their arrival about the middle of June, and at the time appointed, some- where about the middle of June, the agent I did not remember the precise date, the fain- ~ ily made their appearance, and had proved t to be very quiet, respectable people. That I was all the information which he could af- f ford me. I asked him if the man was a gen- c tieman. He hemmed a little over the ques- c tion, and replied that really he couldn't say z as to that; he supposed Mr. Garland might e be considered a gentleman; he was, at all t events, a very gentlemanly man. t * "' My curiosity about his tenant evident- ly excited uneasiness in the agent's mind, which I dissipated by some excuse not worth repeating, obtaining from him a promise that he would not mention my having spok- en to him on the subject; and I think he will keep his promise. Mike has managed to gather up, from various sources, a few additional items of information as to the habits of the family, which are singular, un- questionably, Mr. Garland himself is a pro- fessed invalid, who never leaves the house, yet he has not called in medical attendance; the two ladies go out to church only, and generally to take a drive late in the after- noon; and do not see Ainslie when he calls at the house, he being the only visitor who does call, one of the servants told Mike, yet he haunts their movements at a distance. Decidedly suspicious all this looks, it seems to me. What do you think?" "That it looks sufficiently suspicious to justify me in taking out a search-warrant, and ascertaining by sight whether the young lady is not my cousin." He started up, as he spoke. "Stop, stop!" cried Mr. Lyndsay. "Sit down again, Francis, and listen to me. You must not be so precipitate. Before taking the extreme measure of bringing in the law, we must stand upon surer ground than we do at present. We must ascertain to a cer- tainty that it i8 your cousin; and then we 3an proceed with the search-warrant." "But, meanwhile, Ainslie may take the miarm, and spirit her away a second ~irne." "No danger of that. I have laid all the circumstances of the case before the chief of olice, and he has taken measures to pre- ,lude the possibility of any further difficulty. ?or two days past we have waited only for rour arrival, in order that you may identify he lady, If your cousin. In your name, I inve obtained the issue of warrants-one ~a' searching the house, if necessary, the dhers for the arrest of Ainslie and his ac- ompilces. The house is watched day and Light by a police force competent for any emergency, and, at the first sign of flight, he warrants will be served and all the par- les detained." Newell leaned across the table, and, tak- ing Mr. Lyndsay's hand, wrung it hard. "How can I thank you?" "That ceremony is not needed between friends," interrupted Mr. Lyndsay, smil- ing; "so we won't waste time at it. There is one other circumstance which I have not mentioned. On Tuesday morning I went myself to the cathedral, and saw the young lady; and either imagination is deluding me, or she bears a striking resemblance to your uncle Lee. I knew him very well; and, though it is now about twenty years since he died~ the one glimpse which I obtained of that young lady's countenance has recalled his face to me as vividly as if I had seen it only yesterday. Nor is it the face alone; there is something in the general appearance which looks to me unmistakable-a family resemblance~ in figure, air, and movement. Still," he said, quickly, as he saw the eager- ness of Nowell, "I may be mistaken. The likeness may be merely imaginary, or it may be accidental. Such strange coinci- dences frequently occur, that I am afraid to indulge the hope that this terrible mystery is about to~be solved. The whole tissue of circumstances looks to me, I must say, extremely suspicious. Yet it is possible, it is even probable, that they can be account- ed for simply and reasonably. The man Garland may really be what he represents himself and there may be some love-affair between Ainslie and the young lady, which causes this apparent mystery." "But how do you account for the en- velope?" said Newell. Mr. Lyndsay shook his head. "That is the strongest point against Ainslie; the only one which, to all appearance, might not he explained away. And we cannot tell, even that-" "No! "exclaimed Nowell, "that cannot be explained away. The other circum- stances, taken alone, would scarcely be worth a moment's consideration; but, re- garded in connection with this, they make a case which I should not be. afraid to take before any court that ever sat." "Well," said Mr. Lyndany, "contain your impatience for ten, or at most twen~ ty-f~iir hours longer, and the mystery is solved." And he went on to explain the THE DOUBLE ~EAI~ OF BLOOD. ~139 plan which had been decided upon by him- self and the police, for effecting this object. Nowell suggested a few alterations in the programme of proceedings, which were adopted, and then he was obliged to contain his impatience, as Mr. Lyndsay had advised, through hours that seemed.to him intermi- nable-the long, long hours of that long, long August day. The sun had set, and the short summer twilight was deepening ovei~ the earth, when a carriage stopped before a house in Legar6 Street, almost in front of which two gentle- men had met, seemingly by accident, a few minutes before, and now stood talking to- gether in a low tone. They moved~ a little aside, without suspending their conversation, and, as it chanced, placed themselves very near the curb-stone. The driver having de- scended and opened the carriage-door, ex- tended his arm for the occupants to alight, and then one of the gentlemen, whose face was turned that way, for the first time glanced up. He saw a lady of middle age descend, and, standing upon the curb-stone, turn anxiously and offer her hand to an- other lady who was following her. "Thank you, but I can do very well with John's arm," said a sweet, clear voice, the first tone of which made Newell's heart give a bound that almost suffocated him. Before she spoke, before she had half emerged from the carriage-doe; lie recog- nized her! And if a shadow of doubt had still existed in his mind as to her iden- tity, it would have vanished when, on reach- ing the pavement, she threw hack her veil, and, the door of the house having been opened that moment by a servant from within, a broad glare of light fell full upon the face of Mabel Lee! Newell's arm was held in a vice-like grasp by his companion, and he was walk- ing rapidly down the street, when the mo- mentary rush of almost overpowering emo- tion ebbed sufficiently for bim to be conscious of what he was doing. They were near the corner of a street, and at the corner a man in plain clothes stood, who, slightly touching his hat, said, in a quiet tone: "Ready, yer honor I" "Ready," responded Mr. Lyndsay. He page: 140-141[View Page 140-141] 140 MABEL LEE. THE DOUBLE SEAL OF BLOOD. 141 turned himself and Nowell, and they retraced at wore leisurely pace the two squares which they had just traversed so 'quickly. "You are confident of her 'identity ?" said Mr. Lyndsay, as they approached the house once more, speaking for the first time since they had seen Mabel's face. "Itwould not do to make a mistake, you know." "There can be no mistake," answered Nowell, with a composure which reassured Mr. Lyndsay as to his capacity of self-control in the coming interview. "It is my cousin? Mabel Lee." "Here we are. For God's sake, keep cool now, Francis, whatever occurs!" "Trust me, I will." They mounted the steps, and Nowell rang the bell. Some little time elapsed, and the sum- mons remained unheeded. Nowell rang again, this time with more energy than be- fore.. Still there was no indication of life within the house-no sign that any atten- tion would be accorded to their request for admittance. They heard the far-off tinkle of the bell, and knew that it must have been audible from cellar to attic of ~he house; but no other sound broke the stillness. Now- eli had extended his hand to ring for the third time, when the echo of rapid footsteps was heard descending the stairs, and coming toward the door. A bar was removed, and the door cautiously opened, rendering ap- parent the fact that there was no light in the hall; and a servant-girl demanded, in rath- er a scared tone of voice, what they want- ed. On hearing that they wished to see her master, she said he was sick-not well enough to receive any one; she knew he could not see them. "Tell him, my good girl, that two gen~ tlemen wish to see him on very important business-bu~iness which cannot be put off," said Mr. Lyndsay. The girl hesitated, and wanted to argue the point; but Mr. Lyndsay'~ "We must see him," finally silenced her. She shut and locked the door, and they heard her run stumblingly up-stairs. She soon returned with the message that her master was par- ticularly unwell that evening, and could not possibly be disturbed. She was about to shut the door after saying this; but a strong shoulder forced it wide open, and a strong hand caught her arm, detaining her from the precipitate flight which she would have made. "list! not a word, Mary," whispered a voice which seemed not strange to her. "We don't mane to hurt you, my girl; but no noise, if you plase, or I shall have to put me hand over yer mouth." The speaker suited the action to the word. The girl struggled violently, but ineffect- ually, and, while she struggled, the door was shut quietly, and the next moment a stream of light was thrown along the hall and stair- case from a bull's-eye lantern , and she saw a group of men, the number of whom her ter- rified vision magnified indefinitely, mount- ing the steps, some in plain clothes, but most of them wearing the police badge. They moved noiselessly up the stairs, guided by the narrow path of light which their leader flashed ahead of him, until they reached the floor to which they were ascending. There the man who went in front paused for an instant and shut his lantern, ere he had advanced to a line of light that gleamed just before them, under a closed door. Opening this door, he entered, followed by Mr. Lynd- say, Nowell, and several policemen. The apartment, thus unceremoniously in- vaded, contained but two occnpants.;-a ca~ daverous-looking man in dressing-gown and slippers, and the elder of the two ladies who had returned from driving a few mm- utes before., She was engaged in pouring out tea at a small table near which the man was sitting, or rather reclining, in an arm- chair. Both man and woman seemed star- tled, even terrified, at sight of the party be- fore them. The sallow face of the former became almost white, and his eyes had a glistening, staring look, very unpleasant to behold; while the latter dropped her hands to her lap, and sat, pale, trembling, and si- lent, with an expression of hopeless misery in her face. "Mr. Garland, I believe," said the officer of the party, advancing to the side of the man, who, at the sound of his name,'made a not altogether unsuccessful effort to recover himself, and replied, with an assumption of dignity: "That is my name. What is the mean- ing of this intrusion, may I ask?" "I have a search-warrant," answered the officer; "also a warrant for your arrest as an accomplice in the crime of abduction. This gentleman "-he pointed to Nowell- "has testified to his belief that the young lady who resides in this house, in character of your niece, is his cousin, Mabel Lee by name, who was forcibly abducted from her home on the afternoon of the 22d day of June last. You will produce the young lady at once, that his accusation may be either ~substantiated or dismissed." The man's face twitched and worked convulsively, as he listened to this speech; and he seemed absolutely incapable of reply. He opened and shut his mouth once or twice in the effoitt to articulate, but no sound is- sued from the quivering lips. The officer waited patiently until he saw that there was no probability otT obtaIning an answer from him; and then, turning to the woman, was about to address her, when his attention, and that of all present, was attracted to the door, which had been shut after the entrance of the party, but which was now opened by the young lady, the object of their search. As if responding to the demand made a mo- ment before for her appearance, she advanced into the room, apparently without at first perceiving the goodly company gathered there, for, when she had proceeded but a few steps within the threshold, she stopped sud- denly, and regarded the group of men with an astonished and frightened look~ As she paused, Mrs. Garland started up, and, hur- rying to her, said, in a soothing tone: "Don't be alarmed, my dear. These gentlemen will not hurt you. Come with me and sit down." The girl caught the hand held out to her, and the two '~vere moving toward a sofa that stood in n recess behind the tea- table, when Nowell, who had been gazing steadily at her whom he believed to be his cousin, waiting for the moment when she would Bee and recognize him, planted him- self before them, barring their way. " Mabel," he said, "Mabel Lee!" and he put his hand on her shoulder, looking in- teutly, almost sternly, in her face. With a slight cry of surprise and alarm, she shrink from his touch, as from that of a stranger, lifted her eyes to his for an in- stant without a sign of recognition, and ~then drew closer to her companion, on whom she turned a pitiably imploring glance, which seemed to ask what the meaning of all this was. Newell stood confounded. Mr. Lynd- say thought, "Humphl he has been mis- taken as to her identity. A fine business we~ve made of it! "-and the policemen were of the same opinion. The silence was broken by a sound something between a chuckle and a cough from the sick man who sat by the table. "I hope the gentleman is satisfied! " he cried, in a tone of undisguised triumph. "I hope he is satisfied! His cousin seems very glad to see him!" "Silence 1" exclaimed Nowell, turning with a look nuder which the man literally cowered. "Sir," he continued, addressing the officer, "there is some trickery here. This lady is my cousin, Mabel Lee__~' He stopped short-a quick shiver ran over his form-his face became perfectly colorless, and an expression of horror set- tled upon it. Sudden as a flash, while he Was speaking, and gazing at the averted face before him, the fearful truth burst on 'his apprehension. It~ was the face, the form, the personality of Mabel Lee which he looked upon; but the mind-it was not there! Nowell had entered this house prepared for any revelation 'which might await him; and, though he staggered for a moment 'un- der a blow so unexpected and so awful as the discovery of his cousin's 'condition was to him, he riillied' almost instantly. The 'very intensity of the shock dnlled sensibil- ity for the time. He moved a little, so as to stand full before tho woman to whom Mabel was clinging. "How lon~g has she been insane?" he asked, in the tone of an ordinary question. "From the very~first,'.' she answered, without any attempt' to maintain a further dissimulation. "You mean from the day of her ab- duction?" page: 142-143[View Page 142-143] 142 MABEL LEE. THE DOUBLII~ SEAL OF BLOOD. l4~ "Yes." "Let her sit down." The woman led Mabel to the sofa, an liowell, following, stood before her, an again tried to make her recognize him. "Mabel," he said, very gently, "do yo~ not know me ?...-.me, your cousin Francis I" She looked up at him with a painfa expression of bewilderment. "Will you not come with me to Con stance I" Something like a troubled ray of rec collection shone in her eye for an instant but faded then. She looked with the s~im~ imploring glance as before to Mrs. Garland who had sat down on the sofa beside her. liowell drew a deep breath that sounded almost like a hiss. "Mabel," he said, witi an heroic effort of selI~compulsion-~--" Mabel have you forgotten Philip Conway?" At .that name, sudden life and light flashed into the blankly-bewildered face. "Philip!" she cried, springing to her feet, and extending both hands toward howell-" my Philip!" and she flung her- / self into his arms with sobs of joy. "0 Phil- ip, have you come at last? 0 Philip, I never meant to leave you-did you think I meant to leave you ?-are you angry with me for going? I could not help it, Philip." Still clinging to ~his bosom, she lifted her face, all smiles and tears, to his; but, when she saw the countenance bending over her, she shrieked, tore herself from his encircling arms, and, hastily placing herself on the other side of Mrs. Garland, crouched against her, as if for protection. "It is~not Philip," she whispered, in an accent of heart-breajdng disappointment. "Philip! Philip! Oh, will ho neve~' come?" As. that cry of anguish pierced his ear, howell forgot his own anguish, and the bitter jealousy that was gnawing at his heart; he, cold man, usually so reticent of the least expression of commonest emotion, forgot the many and strangeyes that were regarding the scene with pitying interest; * and,. kneeling before the shrinking form of the sobbing girl, he gently laid his hajads on one of the arms which clasped those of Mrs. Garland. "Mabel," he said, in a tone sorrowful as her own had been, "Mabel, if you will come with me, I will take you to Philip Conway." The face which was pressed behind the shoulder of her protectress lifted itself eagerly, and she looked at him for a mo- ment. "Come with me, and I will take you to Philip Conway," he repeated. She shook her head. "He promised to take me to Philip," she said, with a shiver, "and he brought me here where Philip never comes." howell's quick eye caught sight of a lit- tle rosary and crucifix that hung from her girdle. He lifted it in his hand, and held it up to view, as he asked~ "He did not, promise on this, did he?" " lie,~~ she said. "See, then-" he lifted the beads, and, bending his head, touched his lips to the silvercrucifix-"see! Ipromiseyouonthis, that I will take you to Philip Conway." Her face grew radiant. "I will go with you!" she cried, joyfully; and, as howell rose to his feet, she, too, started up eagerly, and then suddenly turned to Mrs. Garland, ~who remained seated, saying, "You must come too "-repeating, as she looked again to howell, "she must come too. She is very kind to me," she added, with touching simplicity. Mrs. Garland burst into passionate weep- ing. "I have tried to be kind to her, God knows," she sobbed. Oh, sir," she went on, looking up at Nowell, with streaming eyes, "it was sorely against my will that I have had any thing to do with this wickedness. It was not my fault-and it was not so much my husband's as-" "Hush!" screamed her husband, in a tone of shrill rage and alarm. "Hush, you miserable fool! You have betrayed' your- self and me-take care that you don't go any farther. Don't answer a word-what- ever they ask you." "If it is Mr. Ainslie's safety you are thinking about," said the officer, with a sig- nificant smile, "your concern is unnecessary. We are perfectly aware that he was th~ principal in the business; it was by watch- lag his movements that the whereabouts of the young lady was discovered. He is in custody by this time, and I will trouble you to come with us now. Here is the warrant for your arrest." He unfolded a paper, in a business-like manner, and laid it on the table beside Mr. Garland, who, at the words "he is in custody by this time," had thrown himself against the back of his chair with a gesture of despair, and shut his eyes; not noticing the remainder of the sentence. The officer, after waiting a moment, touched his shoulder, and said again, "I must trouble you to come with me, sir. The miserable man opened his eyes, and rose from his seat without a word, sullen and defiant in manner, though he trembled from head to foot. His wife, who, at how- ell's request~, was just leading Mabel from a scene which seemed to trouble and be- wilder her, left her charge and started for- ward, as she heard the last words, and saw her husband stand up. "For the love of mercy-for the love of God, spare him, sir," she cried, seizing the officer's arm with both her hands. "He is very ill-not able to go out. Leave a po- liceman here to guard him, and let him stay." "I am sorry for your sake, madam, that I cannot comply with your request," he an- swered civilly; "but my duty is plain-" "But he is very ill-indeed, indeed, he is very ill!" pleaded she, in an agony of entreaty. "He will make no attempt to escape. Leave him here at least till to- morrow." "Hush!" said her husband, harshly.- "I suppose you do not object to my putting on my coat and boots I" ho said, looking at the officer with a sneer on his lip. "ho; put them on," was the reply. ~b Will you come up-stairs?" said Mrs. Garland, in a tearful voice, going to his side, and trying gently to make him sit down again, "or shall I bring them to you here?" Bring them here.~~ As she was leaving the room to do his bidding, she encountered howell in the passage just outside the door; and, suddenly remembering Mabel, looked inquiringly tow~ ard him. I .1 "The servant has taken her to her chamber," he said in reply to her look. "Oh, sir, speak for my husband! "~ she exclaimed, in broken accents. "If he is taken out and has to go through all this excitement, it will kill him. The doctors have always told him to avoid excitement- he is subject to hsemorrhages-..and " Her voice was choked in sobs. howell remembered Mabel's artless testimony to this woman's kindness; he thought that every thing about her betokened sincerity, and he believed that she had spoken the truth when she affirmed that she had not willingly been concerned in the abduction. So he answered that he would try and induce the officer to allow her husband to remain in his own house, under guard, for this night; and, while she went on up-stairs, he joined Mr. Lyndany and the officer, who were talking together, and preferred his re- quest-explaining his reasons for making it. The policeman was not very easily af- fected by the woes of criminals' wives. He was accustomed to tears and protestations of innocence from such "parties," as he called them; he rather wondered at how.. eli's credulity about the woman; and as to the man's ghastly looks, and reputed hannorrhages, he mentally pronounced that "all gammon." But, as Mr. Lyndsay sec- onded I'Towell's wishes, he condescended t~ concede the point that the man should not be removed that night. "I'll just wait till German comes, and leave him in charge," he said. "He ought to have been here before this. I told him to come and let me know, as soon as our other bird was caged. Ah! there he i~ now-" he looked toward the open door at which a policeman appeared, and beckoned with his hand. "Why, where's German?" he asked,, as the man approached and sa- luted. "I told him to come himself. You've secured the prisoner, I hope?" "He's safe~ answered the new.eomer~ grimly, "but not just in the way we ex~ pected. He resisted his arrest, drawled a pistol on German, and it went. oft' in the icuffie, and lodged a ball in his own lungs ~or his pains." "Killed him?" page: 144-145[View Page 144-145] 144 MABEL LEE. "No, he's alive-but-" "What is that y~u say?" demanded a voice so close at the man's elbow that the latter gave a violent start, as he turned to the speaker, who had approached unob- served by any of the group. "What is that you say?" repeated Mr. Garland-for it was he-" who are you talking ~ "About your friend Mr. Ainslie," re- plied the officer. "He was flourishing a pistol at my men who were sent to arrest him, and by its accidental discharge-you say, Davis-got shot himself?" "Yes, sir, that was the way of it. We found him at his own house, at dinner with a party of gentlemen; and he came out to us, and, when Gorman showed him the war- rant, he turned a little white, but took it cool, and asked all about it, and said with a sort of a laugh that he supposed he couldn't refuse sich a pressing' invitation, but he must go up-stairs and change his dress, and that when ho came down he would 'pologize to his friends for leavin' 'em to finish dinner without him. Gorman went up-stalrs with him, and stood at the door while he pre- tended to be dressing ; but instead of that he was loading' a pistol and preparing' to jump out of the winder and cut for it. Gorman thought his motions was a little suspicious, and, when he seed him put out the light that was in the room, Gorman he run in and grabbed the bird, jest as he was about to ~et himself down from the winder. He had a sheet tied to the iron hinge of the setter, ~nd there's no doubt he mout have got away, if Gorman hadn't a bin too quick for him. He fout desperately and gev Gorman sich a squeeze of the windpipe as almost knocked him up. But the pistol it we~off in the tussle, and me, heerin' the report, run up and found him layin' in a heap, bleeding' like a beef, and quite insensible; and Gorman almost as bad off as he was,' and not able to speak a word by' reason of havin' bin choked half to death. He *as a gamecock, he was, that Mr. Ainslie, and no mistake." "Gorman is not actually disabled, is he?" "Well, no, sir. He sent me on to say he'd be here, shortly. Here he is now, I ex- poet. I hear somebody comm' up-stairs." The next moment another policeman halted at the door; and then, at a signal ,from his superior, advanced. "Well, Gorman. You are not hurt, I hope?" "Not much, sir. But the job turned out different from what I could have wished, sir, and I did my duty faithfully; but Mr. Ainslie chose to make a~ fool of himself by resisting. He fought like a 'devil; and the end of it was that he's done for himself; as I suppose Davis told you." "Is he dead?" "Not yet. At least he was alive when I left; but the doctors think he won't live till morning.". Mr. Garland, who had stood with parted lips, and eyes distended by horror, turned as he heard the last words, as if with the intention of going back to his seat; but, before he had proceeded three steps, he stopped, reeled, and fell heavily to the fioor~ They raised him quickly, and, perceiving that blood was gushing from his mouth, laid him down on his back upon the carpet, while one of the policemen ran for salt to ,stop the hLemorrhage, and another for a phy- sician-those who remained busying them- selves opening his clothes, and rendering all the assistance they could. But the friendly aid, medical skill, the frantic grief of the poor wife, who came shrieking, and threw herself on the' floor beside the still form-all availed naught. The man was dead. -4--- CHAPTER XXVI. THE WAGES OF SEN. Binur time had elapsed between the mo- ment when Nowell and Mr. Lyndsay, ac- coinpanied by the police, had presented themselves so unexpectedly in the drawing- room of Mr. and Mrs. Garland, and tht~t in which 'they had recrossed the 'threshold, leaving for the moment, as again its only oc- cupants, the man and his wife-the dead man and his wildly-sorrowing wife. The presence of death claims, from all but the thoroughly imbruted nature, a certain trib- ute of respect; and the party descended the broad staircase to the now well-lighted hail, with steps as noiseless, if not as stealthy, as those with which they had passed, not more than half an hour before, to the interview that terminated so tragi- cally. The work of the police was over. The facts of Mabel's presence and identity had been established, and there was no danger of further conspiracy against her safety, the wretched accomplice of Ainslie being dead, and Ainslie himself reported dying. The functionaries of the law left the house, therefore, encountering at the dooi~ the per- sons who had been sent by the physician to render the necessary services to the dead, while Mr. Lyndsay and Nowell paused under the hall chandelier, to hold a consul- tation as to the best means of proceeding now, with regard to Mabel. So impatient was Nowell to remove her at once from this house, that the united influence of Mr. Lyndsay's arguments, and the assurances of the maid (who had been summoned to as- sist at the discussion), that he might "fright- en the young lady into spasms if he showed himself to her again that night, much less asked her to go away with him," scarcely availed to prevent his making the attempt to persuade her to accompany him thence. In addition to the repugnance which he natu- rally felt to her remaining a moment longer under that roof; he feared what the effect upon her would be, if she became aware of the death of her pseudo4incle; and he was apprehensive that it might not be possible to conceal the fact from her. The maid, who seemed to be an honest and intelligent girl, thought it would not be difficult to do s~o. The young lady was not in the habit of seeing Mr. Garland often, she said; sometimes he did not leave his chamber for days at a time; there was no danger of her finding it out herself; and, of course, nobody would tell her; no-~she was not likely to be disturbed by the moving about which was then going on up-stairs; she slept a good deal, and very soundly, and had re- tired to bed at her maid's recommendation, immediately on returning to her chamber when she left the drawing-room. see nothing for it but to let her remain here to-night," said Mr. Lyndsay. 10 THlE WAG ES OF SIN. 145 "As she has gone to bed, rousing her again is not to be thought of. We will stay our- selves, Francis.-I dare say, my girl, you can show us a room on this floor, where we can remain without disturbing the house- hold in any way?" The maid courtesied, and opened the door near by. "Here is the dining-room, sir. I'm sure Mrs. Garland, poor lady, would make you welcome to stay." She took a box of matches' from her pocket, went in, lighted the chandelier, and, pointing out two sofas to the gentlemen, who had followed her, offered to bring pillows and coverings if they would please to sleep there. But Nowell would not listen to Mr. Lyndsay's proposal of remain- ing. He would stay himself; he said-he had several letters to write, and he could occupy himself with them, and get them off his hands that night. Mr. Lyndsay, he insisted, must go home. "If you have letters to write, it may be as well for me to leave you," said that gentleman. "I will return early 'in the morning, and we can breakfast together.- By-the-way, Mike is here yet, is he not?" he asked of the maid, who still waited. "Yes, sir." "He had better stay, so that if you want any thing, Francis, he will be at hand." "I want something this moment," re-. plied :N~owell, "some writing-materials. It is a lucky chance that he happens to be here-I can send him out for them.-Tell him to come to me, will you, my good girl?" The maid disappeared, and Mr. Lyndsay, again promising to return early the next day, shook hands and departed.' The night was not very far advanced when Nowell sat down to write. His first letter was to Constance, and it was brief; giving her no definite information-scarcely a definite hope of the success of his search. He wished to preare her somewhat fbrhear- ing of that which h'e Imew she, like himself, would regard as a worse calamity than death itself-Mabel's insanity. "Do not," he wrote, "be too sanguine of a happy re- sult to my search when I tell you that I have undoubtedly 'traced Mabel to this page: 146-147[View Page 146-147] 146 MABEL LEE. place; and do not be disappointed because I cannot now enter into particulars. Be satisfied for the present with knowing that I have made three certain discoveries,: First, that Mabel is here in Charleston; secondly, that she was forcibly abducted; thirdly, that I was mistaken in having suspected I'hilip Conway of being concerned, either directly or indirectly, in the nefarious busi- ness. Tell hir~z t4iis-and say that 1 am heartily sorry for having judged him so un- justly; and that I make the only reparation in my power, by asking him to join me here immediately. His presence wrn be of mate- rial assistance in the further prosecution of this affair; for I will not conceal from you, Constance, that there are still serious diffi- culties to be overcome. Accompany him yourself; but do not permit either my aunt or Mr. Seyton to come. Make what expla- nation and excuses you think best; but re- member, they must not come. And I en- treat that Mr. Conway and yourself will not be a moment in setting out. I will write by the next mail to Father Lawrence. "Your cousin, "FRANcIs NewELL." He did not wait until the next mail, but wrote at once to the priest, detailing at length what had occurred, as cautiously as possible, the deplorable truth, and above all, to expedite the departure for Charles- ton of his cousin and Conway. After sealing and addressing the letters, he went noiselessly to the head of the stair- case, as he had done many times before, since hin watch commenced, to hear if all / was quiet on the floor upon which Mabel's chamber was situated. As he paused, lis- * tending, the drawing-room door opened, and Mrs. Garland stood before him, and spoke * in a subdued but calm voice. "I was in her chamber a few minutes ago, and she is sleeping as quietly as an in- Eant. Will you come in here, sir. ~ I wish to speak to you. Or, no-I will go down to the dining-room, if you don't object." "Certainly not, madam," answered Newell, though he was not a little surprised. lIe descended the stairs, and she followed. Newell placed a chair for her near the 'table at which he had been writing, and sat down himself opposite. lie almost started when he looked at her face, now that the brilliant light of the chandelier shone full upon it, so worn and so ghastly did it ap- pear. l3ut she seemed perfectly composed in manner, and her eyes, though sunken and feverish-looking, were tearless. "You are surprised td see rae, sir," she * said, as soon as she had sunk wearily into the large chair that almost engulfedher thin figure. "You wonder that I can wish to talk to a stranger at such a time as this. I thought you would be anxious to hear all the particulars of-about your cousin; and -and-" Her lips quivered, and her face took an expression of such utter wretchedness, that Nowell withdrew his eyes from the sight with a sense of actual pain, wishing most devoutly that she had left him to his solita- ry watch, and adopted some other means of giving him the information which unques- tionably he was very anxious to obtain. Perhaps she divined this thought, for she controlled herself, and spoke in a firmer voice. "I have been trying for the last hour to write what I wished you to know; liut I could not write. Have a little patience with me. I will be as short as possible. It is because I must do what poor justice 1 can to my husband that I make this explanation, sir. Ho was not as guilty as he seemed. When that man-oh, may God's curse light upon him!' she exclaimedwith rightful vehemence. "May-" "Stop, madam! " cried Nowell, hastily, with something like a shudder. He had been cursing Ainslie in his own heart, and as bitterly; but such words sounded to him horrible on the lips of a woman. "You do not know that the man is dying, dead by this time, in all probability." She stared at him incredulously. "It is true," he said, and explained briefly the circumstances of the case. Mrs. Garland was silent for a monwut. She leaned back and closed her eyes, ~nd a world of bitter thought was reflected on her sorrow-sharpened face. When sh~ spoke again, it was more gently. THEW "You were shocked at hearing me cur this man, but ahi if you knew what can I have to hate him, you would not wond at it. He, and his father before him, we the curse and ruin of my husband's lii Covington (Ainslie's father) persuaded hi to risk all his fortune in some speculate that turned out a failure. We were well 0: before that-almost rich-but my husband lost every thing, and had to go to elerkir for a support. He did not like it, and tli life did not agree with his health. W moved away from Charleston, and he trie one thing after another, without succeeding at any thing; moving about from place t place, very poor, and constantly g~ttin deeper and deeper in debt. Our children died one after another, and we ourselves were often on the verge of starvation. Bu still my husband was an honest man, an we were not altogether unhappy. It wen very hard with nie to remember that all on trouble was caused by the dishonesty ol Covington; for, though my husband neve would hear of it, I always believed, lik everybody else, that his speculation was cheat, and he himself a villain. Last Apri we were in Richmond, Yirginia, in ver~ poor circumstances. My husband's health which had been bad for a long time, wa~ getting worse every day; he was very mud depressed in mind; was out of employment and had not much hope of getting any worl~ that he would be able to do. One day when he had been out hunting for a place, he came home looking in such high spirits that I was astonished. lie had his pocket-book in his hand, and he opened it and took out a paper which he held for me to look at. It was a check for five thousand dollars. When I asked him where in the world he got it, he told me that he had accidentally met young Covington-I mean Ainslie-on the street that morning, and, recognizing him, went up and spoke to him. Ainslie seemed very glad to see him, and invited him to dine with him at his hotel, and after dinner be questioned my husband, found out all his debts and ~diftlculties, and made him accept this cheek, which he said he considered 'a debt~.i~for that it was by his father's mis-~ fortune, as lie called it, that 'Mr. Garland AGES OF SIN. 14'I se had fallen into these difficulties. He came se several times to see my husband, and per. er shaded him to move to Charleston again- re gave him a letter of introduction to his law- :e. yer, told him to take a holiday and recruit m his health for a while, and that when he )n himself came to Charleston he would find if' some place or some business for him. We id came here and went into a boarding-house, ig and, my husband's mind being at rest for the ie first time in many years, I~is health improved e rapidly, until he was almost well. I think 4 it was some time in the latter part of May g that he received a letter from Ainslie, which ;o was the beginning of all this sin and misery. g The letter commenced by saying that my n husband could do him a very' great fav~r- a confer an obligation on him for which he t would be everlastingly grateful; that ho ci and a young lady in Ayre had fallen in love t with one another~ but that her family would' r not consent to the match because they wanted her to marry her cousin, which she r was not willing to do. As her family a seemed determined to force her to it, she ~ had agreed to elope with Mr. Ainslie; and 1 what he asked of my husband was that he and myself would go and meet the young lady, and bring her to Charleston, where the marriage could take place. He wanted to do every thing in the most proper. man- ner; and Ire would like for the yonn~ lady to have a chaperone until they eoribi~be married. My husband saw no, hgm in the proposal. He said that if the young lady's family wanted to force her to marry against her will, why, that they deserved for her to run away; that they were fools not to agree to her marrying Mr. Ainslie, who was very wealthy, and the cleverest fellow that ever breathed. He agreed at once to do all he could, and insisted on my consenting to my part-though I was op- posed to it from the first. I never believed in runaway matches, for I never knew one that did not turn out badly. Several letters were exchanged, and my husband, at Mr. Ainslie's request, took this house and fur- nished it at his expense-..and, at the time appointed, we went in a carriage to meet him and the young lady. They were to come down the river in a skiff; and, sure page: 148-149[View Page 148-149] 148 MABEL LEE.. THE. WAGES OF SIN. 149 enough, at a place called Morford's Landing, t think it was, we met them. The first I saw of thent, '~s I sat in the carriage on. the bank of the river, they were talking and laughing; and this did not give me a very high opinion of the young lady, for I thought that it must be a very frivolous girl who could be laughing in that way at such a timed While I was watching them, the skiff stopped at th~ landing, and then I no- ticed that the young lady looked surprised. We were not near enough to hear any of the cowitersation that followed, but I under- stood very well afterward what was the meaning of the strange motions she made. Once it looked as if she was trying to throw herself into the river. I began to be uneasy, and directed my husband's attention to the singular manner in which she was acting; but he only laughed, and said it was all af-~ fectation-that she was oniy shilly-shallying to tease Mr. Ainslie. While he had been speaking, I looked ~away from the skiff, and when I turned to it again, I saw Mr. Ains- lie step on shore with the young lady in his arms. lie brought her to the carriage, and then I 'perceived that she had fainted. I was dreadfully alarmed, but Mr. Ainslie made light of it. H~ gave me a smelling- bottle, and told the driver to bring some water from the river with which he bathed her face. 'It is nothing serious,' he~ said. 'She Isonly a little nervous. Her pulse is all right. Just get into the carriage, Gar- land, and drive off. I must hurry back, for I don't want to be missed.' All in a hurry, and, before I had time to think, we were "driving 6ff as fast as the horses could go. I was so much engaged in trying to recover the young lady, that I did not have my sen~ea fairly about me; But if I had them, lain afraid it would have done no good. I had no power to stop the carriage, or to do any tiling but reproach my husband." Her voice faltered here. "I am afraid I spoke very au~grily; but stillhe affected to think that there was nothing wrong. But, when the young lady continued insensible for morb titan a~ hour, he. grew very much alawxned~ too. He 'called to the driver to stop; 'but the driver did not hear,'or pre- tended that'h&did not. At last the poor girl moved, and drew a deep breath. I was rejoiced, and spoke to her, asking her how she was. But she did not answer. She lay in my arms and moaned; and once I heard her say 'Philip' in such & strange tone, that it made a cold chill run over me. I would have taken her back to her home; but my husband would not beau of this. Indeed, if he had been willing, we did not know what direction Ayre was. We must have driven ten miles when the carriage stopped again by the river, and we heard the sound of voices. One of them asked the driver if all was right, and he answered yes., 'Drive in, then,' said the first voice, and the next moment the carriage was driven into a fiat-boat, and we were going down the river. We had started from the place where the young lady was put into the carriage, just before dusk; and it was some hours into the night when we got on the boat. It was the most miserable night I had ever spent. I was sure that there had been some de- ception on the part of Mr. Ainslie; and I begged and implored n~y husband to sf~op the boat, and return to Ayre with the poor girl who lay moaning in my arms. He has since told me that he would have done this, if it had been possible-but that neither the driver nor the boatmen would have obeyed him, if he had ordered them to re- turn.. They had received their directions from Ainslie, and would not have listened to-" "One moment, madam, if you please," said Nowell. "Were the ioatmen white or blacid" "They were white men. The driver was black-one of Ainslie's own servants." "Thank you." "All night "-resumed Mra. Garland, who spoke as if she were very much ex- hausted-" we were going down. the river 'with the current. It was light enough for me to see thiS, though only the stars were out. At daylight, we left the boat, and drove to the house about a mile from the river, where breakfast was ready for us. When. we stopped, and poor Mabul was lifted out'of the carriage, she opened her eyes for the first time; and then. I s~lw that she was deranged. I nearly went deranged1 myself I was so terribly shocked. So was my husband; but he made up his mind, by this time, that the thing had gone too far for us to turn back. I reproached him al- most franti ~a1ly; and he at last lost his temper, and answered me very harshly." She burst into tears. "In all our troubles,,~ she continued, "we never had any serious disagreement. Kever-had he spoken to me as-as you heard him speak.to.night. But he seemed altogether changed, from that night. lie grew irritable and gloomy; al- ways ready to find fault with any thing I did. Sometimes he would be like himself for a little while; and he would then admit that he was as miserable as a man could be. lie suffered the most intense remorse. And yet, strange to say, he did not seem to feel any resentment, against Ainslie. I never could understand how it was that Ainslie acquired such an influence over him. It was not al- together gratitude for the assistance he had given-by which my husband was enabled to pay his debts, and feel, as he expressed it, a free man once more. lie seemed posi- tively to love this base, wicked creature. I believe the wretch himself was shocked when he came to Charleston, and found that his villanous plan of compelling Mabel to marry him could not be carried out.~ lie never saw her but once in this house- the day he came first. Though he was told that she was insane, he insisted on seeing her; and I brought her down~ She shrieked and fainted at sight ot~ him; and I declared then solemnly to himself and my husband, that, if he came into her presence again, I would make a public confession of the whole affair, whatever the consequence might be. He did not attempt totestmy resolution; he did not even seem to re- sent it; but I know, from variot~s things which my husband told me, that he in- dulged the hope Qf her ultimate recovery, and expected to make her his wife. Hue plan was, that we should remain. in Charles- ton until he finished his business arrange- me~it~, and then go to Europe with her, where hecould consult the best physicians." 4L1J~ any physician seen her P' I~Towell. ask6d. "~to. I am very anxious to call in physicians, 'but my husband was so afraid of risking a discovery, that he would not have one for himself-though he has needed one," she added, sorrowfully. "1 have told you all this, sir, in the hope that it will make you think more charitably of my poor husband. Excepting in. this one instance, he never in his whole life wronged man or woman. He was a good man and an honest man. until this wretch that you think I ought not to curse led him astray; and the remorse which he suffered has, I believe, been the cause of his death. Oh would think as well as you can. of him! "h'- she clasped her hands passionately-.--" if you could forgive him!" "I will try to do so," said Nowell, gravely, "for your sake, madam. I thank you for the kindness you have shown my unfortunate cousin. Had she been with one who dealt less gently with her, she would have suffered even more than she has. And now you will be adding to this kindness, if you tell me what her precise condition of mind is. I have written for her sister, and-and the 'Philip' for whom she mistook me; hut they cannot be here for several days-" "Pray let her remain. with me until her sister arrives!" Mrs. Garland exclaimed, earnestly. "She is very much attached to me, and very docile to all my wishes. I-" "But," said Nowell, "at such a time as this-" "My husband is dead," she replied, in a hopeless tone. "If I can do the least thing in. repairing the sin into whlch he wan led, oh, give me the consolation, of doing It!" "But may not the discovery of-of what has occurred-be injurious to h~r V" he asked, hesitatingly. "She shall not knowit. Mary, the niai& you saw, is a good, trustworthy girl. When 1 cannot be with her myself, Mary shall stay in her room." "Thank yQu~.~-.thank you heartily.-.-"' She did not wait for him torgnon with what he was abont to say, butt rose f~ebly, and, bowing her head, walked slowly from the room; and, though she bad stopped his speech prematurely, ho could no~ resolve to stay her departure. In the t.e~t w~ilch page: 150-151[View Page 150-151] 150 MABEL LEE. she bad furnished, he found ample matter for thought during the rest of the night. the Shortly after dawn, Mike appeared with information that "if his honor would stip up-stairs, he would find some water and towels that Mary had put for his hon- I or's use in the spare chamber, and cook was-" Nowell stopped him, when he had proceeded so far, and declined the hospi -1 table attentions proffered, with an excuse that he was going out at once. He gave Mr. Lyndsay, while he break- fasted, a summary of Mrs. Garland's story; and they were about to rise from the table, when a servant announced that a messen- ger wished to speak immediately with Mr. Newell. "Show him in," said Mr. Lyndsay, while Newell's heart gave one bound, and then stopped still-for he thought of Mabel. But before he had time to start from his seat, a' respectable-looking servant entered- a negro man-who, notwithstanding his well- bred efforts to speak with conventional composure, was evidently out of breath. "I bring a message from my master, Mr. Ainslie, to Mr. Nowell," he said, looking from one to the other of the gentlemen. "What, is that scoundrel not dead yet?" cried Nowell, with all his natural brusque- ness. "What can he want to say to me?" He regretted having spoken so, as he saw the man's eyes fill with tears that were dried the next instant by a flash of indig- nant anger~ Scoundrel, Ainslie undoubted- ly was-but certainly he had the faculty of strongly attaching to him the affection of those about him. Without noticing Nowell's remarks, the man 'continued, coldly: "My master told 1 me to say to Mr. Newell that he is dying, I and wishes very much to see Mr. Newell immediately." The two gentlemen exchanged glances. "Mr. Ainslie's carriage is at the door to t take Mr. Newell as quick as possible," said i the servant; and there was the very slight- ~ est intonation of entreaty in his voice. But 1 Newell's face had become hard and cold. t "He told 'me to be sure and bring lou, sir.' t He wants to see you very much," said the a man, addressing Nowell directly for the first, time, and openly brushing away the tears that again welled up into his eyes. The words were simple; but the tone. in which they were spoken made them persuasive. "I will go," said the young man-but very coldly. "What is the number of the home?" The carriage is waiting-" "I will walk." "No, no, * Francis!" interposed Mr. Lyndsay. "Take the carriage by all means; and go at once. He may have something &f importance to say to you. Don't lose time!" "At a gallop!" was the brief order given to the driver by the servant who had summoned Newell, as he sprang up behind the carriage. And his order was obeyed liberally. Very few minutes passed before the equipage dashed up to the door of Ainslie's house in Rutledge Street. The servant jerked open the door, tore down the steps, and rapidly preceded Newell into a large and lofty hall, up a broad stone stair- case, along a wide sky-lighted passage-way7 through an open door, into a handsome and airy apartment that had, at first glance, nothing of the appearance of a death-cham- ber. The windows were all wide open; even the cobweb lace curtains-their only drapery-were drawn entirely aside to let the fresh air of the morning enter freely; end the sunshine poured in golden streams upon the India matting that covered the floor. Near one side of the bed was placed s small table, covered with scattered writ- ing-materials and a lighted taper, and at it i dried-up looking man sat folding and seal- a thick paper which needed no great ~erspicacity to divine to be the dying man's ast will and testament. Two gentlemen, phy- ~icians evidently, stood at the window most distant from the bed, talking in low tones. Newell paused one moment upon the lireshold, and then, his step attuning itself voluntarily to the stillness around, he ad- ~anced to' the 'foot of the bed, and stood cooking down upon the man whose hand- he traitor-hand that had dealt him so bit- er a wrong !-he had grasped not a week go, in friendly greeting. There was nothing of the fearfulness of I U TIHE WAGES OF SIN. death in Ainslie's aspect; none of the pain- ful, often revolting ghastliness which dis- ease seldom fails to impress upon the poor clay of humanity. His face was very pale; and the brilliant eyes, that had made its soli- tary attraction, were closed; but the features were not sunken, and there was no disorder of garb, or disarrangement of the bed. He still wore the dress in which he sat down to dine the evening before, the removal of which had not been considered unavoidable, as the physicians had not believed it pos- sible that he could live an hour when they saw him first. And when he had tempora- rily recovered his sense, under the torture of being raised from the floor, while a band- age was passed around his waist, he had forbidden that his dress should be touched. They had l~id him on the bed, with a few folds of linen drapery thrown over the mid- dle part of his figure; and there he remained unmoving-sunk in a heavy stupor during the night, but rousing to full consciousness with the first rays of the morning sun. Very calmly he addressed himself to the task of setting his house in order. His law- yer was summoned, his will made, and then he expressed a wish to see Nowell. A strange wish Nowell thought it, as * he gazed at the impassive face for mm- utes before there was any change in it. But suddenly the eyes enclosed themselves -and his gaze was returned. And it was singular that the expression in the eyes of the two men, as their glances met, was iden- tical; bold, speculative, solemn, it spoke the thought which was in the mind of each- "Stricken by God!" Stricken by God. The bitter sense of wrong-the passionate desire for vengeance -which had been burning so fiercely in I'~owell's heart, ever since he had admitted the belief of Ainslie's guilt, seemed to shrivel and turn to ashes. He had thirsted for this man's blood: he had only refrained from spilling it, because he preferred the refinement of revenge which the disgrace of the legal penalty for his crime would in- flict upon Ainslie. And now!- It was in a tone more quiet than cold that he said, "You wished to see me?" "Yes; I wishedtoseeyou.~~ The voice did not seem changed-a lit- tle weak, perhaps-and there was a slight catching of the breath but its tones were natural. He turned his eyes from Newell's face, to the servant who was now standing close at the side of the bed opposite the table, and made a motion with his right hand, which was answered by the servant's bringing a goblet of ice-water from a mar- ble stand near by. Tenderly raising his master's head, the man held the water to his lips, and he drank. It refreshed him. His glance returned to Newell, and he spoke again. "Francis Newell, I sent for you to ask if you will grant a favor to a dying man V' "Say ~ "Garland was my blind agent at first -imposed upon by a deception on my part. After lie discovered the nature of the act in which he was participating, his weakness of character, and partly his attachment to me, bound him to my services But in will, he is innocent. 'What I ask of you is, that you will not prosecute him-or permit him to be prosecuted." Newell did not reply. He was gazing intently into the eyes that met his own' steadily-and marvelling at the incompre- hensible character of the man who could remorselessly lead another into crime, and yet, at the hour of his own extremity, was capable of the generous desire to save him. He could not understand so contradictory a nature. Ainslie misinterpreted his silence: "You~ will not promise?" he said. "You have put aside the natural im- pulse for vengeance so far as to come at my call, and to hold your hand from anticipat- ing death's stroke upon me-and yet-. But perhaps you came to gloat over the spectacle of my miserable end? "No-I did not come for that." "For what, then?" " Because you requested my pres- ence." "Francis Newell, you call yourself a Christian man!" "Yes." "I have never been a Christian. I page: 152-153[View Page 152-153] 152 MABEL LEE. THE EVIL THAT MEN DO LIVES AFTER THEM. 153 have acknowledged no God save my owi will But now, In this moment when I stand upon the thre~hoJd of eternity, I be lieve that there is a God..-the God whoix you profess to worship!" He was silent for a minute-the catching in his VOiCE having become more frequent and audible "Do not think I make this declaration te buy off from the devil. I am sufficient. iy acquainted with the teachings of your priests ~to know that hypocrisy is not con- trition. I speak sincerely: I believe that there is a God 1-and 1 adjure you, in the name, 9nd by the precepts of that God, for- give this man!" "Jie shall not be prosecuted." Almost involuntarily, Kowell spoke thus. The dying man's solemn appeal had affeot@d and softened him. He would not, he thought, add one more pang to the bit- terness of death; he would be mercifully silent respecting Garland. Ainslie did not speak in reply-but those marvelously beautiful eyes grew bright and soft with a gleam of gratitude and pleasure; and, then he closed them wearily, as if exhausted. But he said, fai~4ly: In a little time he opened his eyes again, and joked uneasily, to 8ee if L{owell was still there. Observing this, the servant brpu~ht a chair, and Nowell sat down. B~t r~rte~ passed in dead silence; and he was beginning to feel vague apprehensions about Mabel-doubts whether it was right for him to risk remaining any longer from her. lie looked at Ainslie's face. Per- haps he b&d again sunk into stupor. The breath, he perceived, was now very short. H~ had ql~nost decided that to wait longer wa~ sqperfluous-that he wonld at least c~psiilt tl~.a physicians, who were still ii the reom, whether it wa~ probable that ther* would be a further rallying of the obvi- ou~1y failing spark of life. As he thought ~hi~ there's was a slight quivering of the eyelids, and they liftedalowly, and the eyes p~ioe .ought his face. "There was more-that I wished to say -but---." Re paused, t~nd rested for a moment -his voice had become very weak and un. certain, When he resumed, he spoke slowly, and with long pauses. "I am not so remorseless a villain-as you perhaps think. Sinful my life has been -but never dishonorable, in a worldly sense -until this crime stained it-I loved her- and she was the first-who ever resisted my power-to attract. It was a gift with me-the power of fascinating whom I would -man or woman. Even yourself-while you hated Conway, you almost liked me. She alone defied me-~and I swore to con- quer her. But I failed-and, step by step- my passion led me on-until it finally cul- minated-in this outrage. Perhaps you would-not believe me-if I told you that the remorse-which I have suffered-in see- ing her as she is-" He closed his eyes. An expression of intolerable pain convulsed his face. "And Conway-if he had not said-that he could not ask her to be, his wife-I would not have wronged him so." Again the lids sank heavily; and thee. was a silence of some minutes. Then, with a last effort, he looked up. "Tell, Conway-I-am-sorry." The light went suddenly out of the brown eyes. The erring soul was gone. -4.---- CEAPTER XXVII. THE EVIL THAT MEN DO LiVES AFTEE THEM. Tnn sensation which Nowell's letter. caused ii~ Ayre, was something almost be- yond description, and quite beyond prece- dent. Never before had any thing occurred which so profou~d4y shocked and interested the whole eomm~nity-as, indeed, it might have shocked a much larger colninunity, seeh~g that the day of sensational horrors had not yet 4aw~ied upon that quiet region of country. Then, of all people, ~abel Lee was nearest the popular heart, and that she should have been singled out for such a fate seemed to Ayre aitnost too hard an4 ter~ rible for l~elief. Not that they knew ranch about her as yet. Mr. Seyton and Con- stance had left immediately on the recep- tion of Nowell's letter, and Mrs. Lee had followed as soon as she was able to travel; the immediate friends of the family were re- ticent, and the newspapers seemed to be muzzled. Altogether, Ayre was in a state of uncomfortably indefinite and seething cu- riosity, which did not improve or obtain much gratification as the days went by. A good many of these days had gone by, when, having taken dinner, Mr. Blake sat down on his piazza one afternoon to smoke a pipe of rather gloomy contemplation. His thoughts were, of course, full of the topic which filled all thoughts just then, when the whoops of two or three little negroes caused him to look up, and he saw a horse- man enterin~ the gate. Something in the figure, and something in the horse~, took him baek at once to the May afternoon when he first met Philip Conway at the cross-roads -then in another moment he saw that it was Conway himself. With something of a stdrt, he took the pipe from his mouth, and walked toward the steps. By the time he reached them, the other had cantered for- ward, and they met face to face. Their greet- ings were usually formal; but, for the first time, Blake held out his hand voluntarily. "How are you, Mr. Conway?" he said. "I'm glad to see you back-but, good Heav- ens, sir, how badly you look!" "Do I?" said Conway, shortly. "There's reason enough for it, since I have ridden al- most constantly-sparing neithermyself nor my horse-since I received my uncle's let- ter. Will you have him looked after, if you please? lam very sorry to have been forced totreat him so.~ Mr. Blake gave a low whistle as he looked at the horse, who 'stood by the steps, with his head down, his nostrils distended, his flanks still quivering from prolonged ex- ertion, and his whole air one of spent ex- haustion. "You must have ridden like the devil, sir," he said. "I felt like the devil," was the curt re- ply. "But I am sorry for Ma~eppa. Poor ~ollow, he did his best. Will you have him~ put up, and furnish me another mount?" "Another one? You surely are not thinking of going on this afternoon, sir?" "I an~going on in en hour, Send over to the House for Black Tom. He has a bet- ter bottom than any other horse on the plan- tation, I believe. In the mean time, I will be glad if you wrn give me something to eat." "Certainly, sir. But won't you have a drop or two of brandy first?" "I never travel without it, and I have a flask half full in my pocket now." "Takeaseat, then, sir, while Isee about the horse. You look dreadfully fagged!" lie pushed a chair forward as he speke, and, almost unconsciously, Conway sank in~ to it. After Mazeppa had been led away, and Mr. Blake himself was gone, he still sat~ quite motionless-the relaxation of intense fatigue in every limb, but something beyond fatigue, something which still had power to goad the sinking body into action, burn- ing in his eyes. Even during this brief rest, the desire to be moving toward his goal was apparent. Even while the body was sunk in this deep inertia, the will was urg- ing to action, and torturing with the thought of all that was yet to be done. More than once the slight, muscular hands clinched themselves as if they were already on a hu- man throat, and the black brows knitted into ominous frowns. Can you wonder? There are some wrongs that rend away, like flimsy veils, all the conventionalities with which it has pleased civilization to drape the life of man, leaving bare the naked human nature with all its savage instincts, which may be tolerably well repressed, but have never yet been uprooted. And it was a wrong of this sort that Conway was smart- ing under noW-a wrong that might have made the very meekest turn in deadly wrath; and a wrong that left n~ hope of redress, or thought of consolation, save only that bitter-sweet ~no of revenge. The rob- bery was deep enough, and black eRe~gb, in itself; but jime betrayal which ~ccorn.- panied it was, if anything, even worse: ~4 between the twe, his heart war a e.sId~~n 4 such fierce passion as it would fare ill with the most of us if we could even imagine. Fortunately, not many of us can-fortunate- page: 154[View Page 154] 154 MABEL LEE. ly, such provocation is not often-given, even on this wicked earth-but, if it were, we too might learn that sometimes, at least, the divine~pr~oept of forgiveness is spoken pnto deaf ears. After a while, Mr. Blake came back, and found his guest in precisely the same posi- tion in which he had left him. "I have sent -to the House for Black Tom, air," he said; "and he will be here shortly. I have been seeing them rub down the chestnut, and he seems a good deal bet- ter already. Dinner is ready: will you walk in?" During dinner, Conway made his first and only approach to the subject of which - - both their thoughts were full, by asking if any thing had been heard from ~Mr. Seyton. Blake shook !iis head. "Nothing whatever, sir. Mrs. Lee went * down - the other day; but I suppose you have heard that?" "No; how should I? I passed through Ayre, it is true; but I had no disposition to ask questions. Who went down with her?" " Father Lawrence, sir.~, And that was literally all that was said. After dinner Black Tom was brought out, declining the longer rest which his host urged, Conway took his departure. They had shaken hands, and he was in the saddle, when Blake stopped him and spoke ab- ruptly. " One moment, Mr. Conway. I must do one thing, sir, before we part-I must beg your pardon for all the suspicion I have felt against you. I never liked you from the start, sfr, and I was only too ready to believe any wrong of you. I see how mistaken I was. And I-I beg your pardon. It's all I can do." "It is more than enough," said Conway. "Pahaw, man !-do you think I minded your ~us~ieion ?-you spoke it out honestly, and I 1ieverre~eiited it' twen' f~r amo~nent. Indeed, I rather liked you the better for it, since it showed your love for her. If that i~all-youihave to say, don't keep me here to sayit now." "It isn't all," said Blake, catching at his bridle ~s he was turning away, I'm an old man, sir, and I've loved her longer than you have, so I have a right to say this: Take care what you do. Wrong was never yet mended by wrong, and-" "Let me go 1" said Conway, between his teeth. "Do you think I can wait here to be preached to on a subject like this? No, wrong was never yet mended, but it can be avenged-and that is what it shall be! Stand out of the way." Blake stood out of the way sorrowfully enough, and watched him ride out of sight. Then he drew his hand slowly across his eyes, and went back into the house, mutter- ing a verse that came to his memory with sudden force: "'Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord.'" When Conway reached Charleston, the first person whom he met was Mr. Sexton; Blake had given him the name of the hotel where the latter was to be found; and, going there, he was shown at once to his room. It was vacant, but he had not long to wait before its occupant came in. "Phil! my dear boy," he said, holding out his hand to the travel-stained figure who rose to meet him. "I did not expect you for some days yet. How quickly you have come!" "I have travelled almost without draw- ing rein," Conway answered, "and Iha~e not heard a word of news. Sir-how is she?" - - Mr. Seyton shook his head sadly. "There is no change, my boy-they give us no hope of any. She is perfectly mild and gentle, but absolutely insane. She asks for you constantly, and sometimes takes even me for you. Will you go to her now?" Pale as Conway had been before, he grew yet paler at that request, and raised his hand with a quick gesture of silence and refusal. "I could not bear it," he said, huskily. "I dare not-..-yet. If I saw her first, I should not be a man but a tiger, and I have something to do which must be done within conventional bounds, at least. Sir, don't speak to me of her, but tell me at once where lie "-~the dark brows met, and the dark eyes quivered and glowed-" is to be found!" 154 page: Illustration-155[View Page Illustration-155] ±flJE 1!iVI 11I TAT MELND Mr. Seyton started, and looked at him for a moment before he spoke. "Do you mean Ainslie?" he asked, at last. "Whom else should I mean?" answered the other, fiercely. "Tell me, sir-tell me at once. I am on fire till I have seen him, and taken revenge!" Mr. Seyton came a step nearer, and laid his hand down on the shoulder that shook with passion beneath his touch. "That has been moved out of your hands," he said, solemnly. "Ainslie is dead." "Come in," said Constance, gently, as Mr. Seyton paused at the door of her sitting- room, with Conway beside him. "She is sleeping now, but I will waken her. Come m. 'KNo-don't waken her," said Conway, coming forward; and then he suddenly stopped-for there, on a low couch beneath one of the windows, Mabel lay before him. She had apparently fallen asleep in the midst of some trifling employment, for one hand still held a piece of needle-work; but her attitude was that of profound repose, as well as perfect grace. H&r head was somewhat thrown back, and the light streamed down softly through the green blinds, over her upturned face-the face whose bloom was almost as bright as on the morning when he told her that she looked more like Aurora than Titania. Her fair arms and neck gleamed like marble through the thin muslin which covered them; and her rich golden curls lay in glittering pro- fusion over the dark sofa-cushions. Some- thing in the attitude and scene-different though both were-reminded Conway of the night when he had seen her thrown into mesmeric slumber; and he turned to Con- stance, who had risen and stood near him. "You are sure it is a natural sleep?" he said. "She looks almost as if she were mag- I netized." s "It is entirely natural," Constance an- swered. "Speak to her, if you wish to know-she wakes very easily." r lie approached the sofa and knelt down s by it. She looked so saint-like, in her v youth and beauty, that for a moment he .1 Jill Ii1VJ~ Ai~i'I~d6 T1ii~M. 155 held his breath before he spoke. Then he uttered only one word- "Mabel!" Instantly she opened her eyes. For a moment she looked at him, as if h~ilf uncer- tain who or what he was. Then the mist of doubt cleared away. A smile came to her lips-a sweet, bright smile-but no ex- clamation broke from them. She only held out her hand, and, as he clasped it in both his own, she said, quietly: "You have come ~at last! I knew you would-but, 0 Philip, what a long time it has been!" "Very long, my love, very long!" he murmured, brokenly. "But it shall never be again. I am with you now-now and forever." "Forever! "she repeated, with the same smile, but with a wandering in her eyes, that showed at once her malady. "Forever .-.ah, yes, I know. We said that long ago, down by the river, did we not? I have not forgotten my lesson, Philip. I have been waiting for you, to say it to you. The other Philip-there was another Philip, was there not?" she asked, with a troubled look com- ing over the brightness of her face. "lie has not been here in a long time, either. But 4here was another Philip, was there not? " "Yes, yes," he said, hastily-" there was another. But you were talking of me. What was it you want ~d to say to me ~" "My lesson," she repeated. "I have aever forgotten it-never~ The ether Phil- ip was very kind and good to me, but he sras not you; and I would not say it to him. said it to myself; though, all the time; and [know it now. Must I say it to you?" "Yes," he answered; "say it to me." She smiled and drew nearer to him. "Put your arms around me, then," she aid. "That is the way, you know. l~ow et me lay my head down-so. If I forget ome of it, yen will not mind?" "Na, no." "Listen, then." And with his arms ound her, and her head resting on his shoulder, she began in a soft, low voice the erses he had repeated long before, in that une twilight on the river: 0 Q C.4 C C C;. C V C page: 156-157[View Page 156-157] :/ ~ MABEl, Li~E~ 156 "'It was ordained to be so, Sweet..-snd best Comes now, beneath thine eyes, end on thy breast. Still kiss me I Care not for the cowardel Care Only to put aside thy beauteous hafr My blood will Jnu't$ The Three I do not scorn To death, because they never lived; but I, Have iWed Uid.ed, and so-(yet one more kiss)-.--can diet"' When she finiiAhed, she glanced up into his face, but he was speechless. The sweet- ness of the past, and the anguish of the present, were too much for him. He drew in his breath with a quick, gasping sound, but he uttered not a word; and, after a mo- ment, she spoke again. "Are you not going to praise me, Phil- ip?" she asked, half reproachfully. "I have said it-.-ah, so often 1-to myself! and I thought you would be sure to tell me you were glad. I hiive never said it to any one but you-never." lie looked up at Constance, who stood behind the sofa. "My God! How will I ever bear it?" he asked. "Bear it as I have done-for her sake," she answered, in her quiet voice. "See! she is pained that you do not answer. Speak to her." He bent his head down then, and spoke to her. What he said neither of the others heard, but it seemed to satisfy her entirely. She leaned back on her cushions with a smile, and scarcely heeded that he bent his face down in her loose masses of hair, while his whole frame shook with convulsive emo- * tion that seemed caused by the strong heaves of the heart throbbing so mightily in its love auddespair. Despite this, Mabel wan- * dared on with astreain of talk; and after a while be grew composed enQugh to answer her, and strive to discover how far her mind was sane, and how fa~ overthrown. But he made little progress. Questions that she could not answer troubled her; and he .wa~' forced at last to see for himself; whatothera had seen before him, that the very milduesa of the malady made it the more hopeless of cure~ Save in her recollection of one or two people, the past was all a blank to her; and he found that the endeavor to lead her mind baek to any portion of it was utterly fruitless. Plainly, indeed, the effort did more harm than good; and when he rose at last to go, it was with a .heart sorer by much than when he had entered. "Come again, Philip-come again, very soon. Don't stay away long," were Mabel's last words; and the pleading look which ac- companied them followed him all the way to his hotel. When he reached there, the first piece of information he received was that a gen- tleman had called, and was waiting for him. The gentleman himself coming forward, he was surprised to see an absolute stranger- a dapper little man, very carefully and pre- cisely dressed, who bowed in acknowledg- ment of his interrogative glance. "Mr. Conway, I presume?" he said. "Yes, Mr. Conway," Philip answered. "I have called on private business," said the other. "If you will show me to your own room, I will explain it." Conway felt too thoroughly indifferent to trouble himself with a single conjecture *about the nature of the business thus unex- pectedly announced, but led the way at once to hig room. After they entered, the stranger declined a chair, and, drawing some papers from his pocket, laid them on the table. "I had the honor to be the lawyer of the late Mr. Ainslie, sir," he said, "and his last instructions were deposited in my hands. Among others, was a letter for yourself; which I thought it beet to deliver ,in person." More was said, but Conway had a very faint idea at the time, and a still fainter re- membrance afterward, of what it was. When at last the man took a ceremonious depart- ure, h~ was glad to sit. dowi?, for he felt strangely confused and giddy. Events had succeeded each other so rapidly that the pewer of realizing them seemed to have passed from him. Even with the dead man's letter before him, he could not bring himself to a realization of all that had hap~ pened, It was a long time before be could fnrqe himself to take up the sheet of paper -business-looking paper, covered with a lawyer'a smooth handwriting.-..-and open it. When he did so, lie saw that It began~ very abruptly, thus: 4 *1 I THE EVIL THAT MEN K "CoNwAY: When this letter is placed in your hands, you can afford to read it, since I shall then be beyond the reach of your resentment or your forgiveness. The doctors tell me that I cannot live more than a few hours, and my own sensations assure me that I have not even that much of life to reckon confidently upon. Don't misunder- stand me. Don't think I write this t9 ask forgiveness, or to plead for any more kindly remembrance than you would have given if I had gone down to the grave with my lips closed. In your place, I should never par- don such an offence as the one you have suffered; and I know you well enough to ho sure that I will be as much the object of your execration at the rust moment of your life as I am now. Understanding this, you will believe that I write solely to make an explanation which you could never other- wise hear; and to speak the truth-not for my own sake, but for that of another-as a dying man may be supposed to speak it. It may' be unnecessary, as far as you are concerned, but, for the benefit of the evil- speaking world, I once for all solemnly af- firm that no one, save myself and my paid agents, was concerned in the abduction of Mabel Lee. She was utterly powerless and passive-as I will hereafter explain. Before doing so, however, I must go back briefly to my first meeting with her. You may re- member how much I was struck by her beauty; but of course you could not even have suspected that, from that hour, I deter- mined to win her; and, notwithstanding her instantaneous attraction toward yourself, I did not despair of doing ~o. Ugly as I am, I had tested my powers of fascination often enough to be sure that I might easily dis- tance you in a fair race. On my honor, I thought nothing besides this, until the mes- meric experiment. When I saw the aver- sion she seemed, in consequence of that, to conceive toward me, I could not but hesi- tate in my purpose. I hesitated especially about the portrait-painting, on which hinged all else-for, necessarily, if I had abandoned that, I should* have had no excuse for re- maining at Seyton House. Doubting. my own judgment very much, I consulted her sister. She encouraged me~ to hope that the DO LIVES AFTER THEM. dislike was only transient, and would pass away in time. So I remained-and you know the rest, almost as well asldo. You saw how her dislike faded away, and how day by day her manner to me grew more cordial. Of course, I was fully aware of her preoccupation with yourself; and I did not think for a moment that this change meant any faint weakening of love. But I did be- lieve, and I do still believe, thatifl could have removed her from your influence, I could soon have made her mine of her own free will and choice. Acting on this belief, I gradually conceived the idea of an abduc- tion. It was the only means of compassing the desired end in the desired manner; it was the only means of proving that I could make her far more in love with me, than she was in love with you then. Yet I pur~ posely sounded you beforehand, honestly meaning to relinquish the project if I found you deeply attached to her. And what.did I hear? Only the careless jargon of the day; the flippant talk of convenience and bon~lage; the mere bubble froth of a fancy, which the next new toy would replace. I could not harm you by depriving you of any thing which you treated so lightly, I thought; and, even for her own sake, 1 would do better to give her such love as mine-love that would have faced fire and sword for her-rather than a shallow fancy for her pretty face, like yours. After that, my last hesitation was at an end; and I laid my plans. The island ball gave me the op- portunity I desired, and I determined that, if possible, she should be carried off that night. It proved impossible; and was ne- cessarily postponed until the next day. You may remember how Fortune favored me then. Mr. Sexton kept you engaged, and Harding went off alone. I wasintheterrace, and it was easy to go down the face of the bluff-the boat was moored at the foot. I got in, kept along the shore, and, quite un- seen, reached Mrs. Lee's garden. There again Fortune favored me, for I found Mabel alone. After a good deal of persuasion, I induced her to take "a short row's with me. Once in the boat, I rowed rapidly down the stream, to a place where, accord- ing to my instructions, a carriage was to page: 158-159[View Page 158-159] 158 MAJ3EL LEE. 1l~fI!O THE SUNLIGHT. 159 meet me."-Here the same narrative whk Mrs. Garland had given to Nowell was sul stantially repeated. Then the writer spob of the shock which Mabel's insanity ha been to him. "I had heard of her father, he said, "and the result of the mesmeric e~ periment proved how highly strung was hc own nervous organization, but I never for moment dreaded, or in the least degre anticipated, such a conclusion to my schem as this. I did not appreciate, in even th least degree, what such a shock to such mind would inevitably cause. I intended t take her to Europe, and see what the phy sicians of France and Germany could do fo her; but business arrangements delayed m -and this is the end. Perhaps it is bette so; perhaps my dream was only a dream and no love or care could have won he: heart; but at least I would have striver very hard, and I think I should have sue needed. If she ever recovers, and you liv ~to marry her, remember this. Remember how long I would have toiled and suffered for one tithe of the love she gives to you- and let the remembrance teach you some- thing of her value. "Now I have finished. Now you know the whole story. Once more, as at the be. ginning, let me say that I do not mean to ask your forgiveness; and also that I never intended to injure you, as it seems I did. "RAna AINsLIE." That was all. The dead man's signature -written by his own hand-stood out clear and t~lack on the white paper, and, as Con- way gazed at it, something of the old friend- ship stirred suddenly at his heart. The thought that, with all its faults and all its virtues, this soul stood now before the bar of God, hushed on his lips any thing like those execrations of which the letter spoke. On the contrary, he laid his hand down up- on the open page, and bent his head over it reverently. "God forgive him!" he said, half aloud. "God forgive him-as I do!" td CHAPTER XXYIII. INTO THE SUNLIGHT. t I e ] :- "PHIL," said Mr. Seyton, as they walked r slowly along the street, a day or two after- a ward, "Phil, the doctors here give no hope e whatever of Mabel's recovery; but I have e determined not to rest satisfied with their e decision." a Conway started out of a fit of abstrac- o tion, and looked at his uncle. Hope had so entirely deserted him, that he could not r conceive how Mr. Seyton still ~lung to it; a but then it was not his part to echo the L' opinion of the doctors, so be only asked, with a sort of weary indifference- "What do you mean to do, sir?" "I have been thinking about it," said * Mr. Seyton. "I mean to take her where the best science of the world is to be found -in other words, to Paris." "You mean to take her there I" * "Yes. If her mother will consent-and * I don't think there is any doubt of that-I will take her as soon as possible." Conway shook his head. "I can't see the good of it," he said. "Believe me, sir, the doctors in Paris will tell you exactly what the doctors in Charles- ton have done." "Then I will go to Germany, or to Lon- don, or to anywhere else, where a medical faculty exists," said Mr. Seyton, firmly. "If all else fail, I shall even follow Dr. R-'s advice, and see if mesmerism, which crazed, cannot also, by judicious application, cure her. You may be sure of one thing, Phil-.- I shall never give up trying. It was you who said that, when she was lost, and I despaired of her return: now our positions are reversed. :Now, you despair, and I hope-I, by God's help, yet mean to accom- plish that for which I hope." "Even so, sir," said Conway. "I can- not think you will succeed, hut God's help be with yqu!" So it 1.iras settled. Mrs. Lee readily eon~ented to any thing which held out the faintest promise of ultimate cure; and it was decided that she should return to Ayre, with Kowell, while Mr. Seyton sailed for Europe with Constance and MabeL For a while, Conway made arrangements to ac- company them; but the only one of the doctors who gave any encouragement to the project negative that at once. "I have not much hope in the medical science on the other side of the water," he said; "but change of scene, and entire separation from all the associations connected with her malady, may perhaps right her mind in time. There is no telling; but, at least, if the experiment is made at all, it should be fairly tested. Now, you are one of these associations, Mr. Conway; and your pres- ence must necessarily recall a great deal she had better forget, since you are interwoven with all the events that have ended so dis- astrously. Therefore, once for all, you must not accompany her to Europe. You must stay in America, or go to Asia or Africa, if you desire, but you must not cross her path until she is entirely recov- ered-if indeed recovery is possible. Un- derstand that this is final." It was not so final but that Conway stoutly rebelled against it, though he was at last overruled. "No, you must stay,~~ said Mr. Seyton. "The doctor is right-I can fully appreciate that. If she recovers at all, it will be with those whom she has known all her life, and who are not prominently associated with these things of which the doctor speaks. Not another word, Phil !-you must stay." Conway looked at Constance; but he found no encouragement there. Her stead- fast gray eyes met his with the same re- solve in them. "You must stay," she said. "Think for a moment of the harm your presence might do, and then you will see the necessity as plainly as we. You must stay." "But I might go, and be within reach, ,seehg her." "Impossible. You would end by seeing her, and perhaps undoing any good that might have been done. No, the risk should not be run and the Atlantic had better be between you.~~ "It must be between them," said Mr. Seyton.-" Don't let me hear any more of this, Phil. Go down to Seyton House, and take care of things while I am absent. You owe me that, I think; and you ought to grow accustomed to your duties before they are thrown for good and for all on your shoulders. I have only one request to make -don't quarrel with Blake." "I think you may tr~ist me, sir. In my present mood, he might burn the house over my head, and I should not question the expediency of doing so." "You will get over that,~~ said Mr. Sey- ton; "especially if we tire able to send yen cheering news. I am glad Adela is in Paris. She will be able to assist us materially. When we return, I shall bring her back with me-for good." The young man's eyes suddenly softened and moistened in a peculiar way they had. "My poor mother!" he said. "She will be overjoyed to see you, sir; and pray tell her every thing. She has wonderful brains for a woman, and can help you, I am sure. As for me, if I must stay behind, like a use- less log, I must-that is all." After this, preparations were hurried forward, and in a few days the outward- bound trio were quite ready. It was only at the last moment that Mabel was told that she was going. She made no difficulty, as they had half feared she would; but only looked up at Conway with a smile. "Are you going, too?" she asked. "Not now," he answered, with a sharp pang; "but you will not be gone very long; and, when you come back, I shall be waiting for you. You must try and get well. The sooner you get well, the sooner we shall meet again. Remember that." "But am I not well, now? What is the matter with me?" "The carriage is ready," said Mr. Seyton, breaking in abruptly; and, without answer- ing her question, Conway led her down. An hour or two later, he stood on the dock watching the steamer that bore her, as it steamed out of the harbor. The last face he saw distinctly was hers-still turned toward him, and the land where he re- mained, as she was carried faster and faster away. When he turned round, he was surprised to see Nowell behind him. They had met page: 160-161[View Page 160-161] 160 MABEL LEE. INTO THE SUNLIGHT. 1@1 before, but not cordially; and there was ground for hisastonishment when the latter said, "I have put my aunt in the carriage, and sent her oIf Mr. Conway; if you have no objection, we will walk back together." "Certainlj," said Conway; and, with one last glance at the vanishing steamer, they turned away from the dock, and set their faces cityward. They walked on for some time in silence, and then Nowell spoke abruptly-spoke very~ much as Mr. Blake had spoken before him. "I atn not a man who knows very well how to do a graceful thing, Mr. Conway; but at least I hope I know how to do an honest one. Now, it has been on my mind for some time to retract a good many offen- sive things I said to you. Of course I dis- covered long since that my suspicions were entirely unfounded. Ton bore my charges more patiently than might have been ex~ pected; and I now apologize for them, fully and freely. If, after this, you wish to re- sent them, I am at your service. If not, we are never likely to be friends, but at least we need not be enemies." "I have not the least desire to resent them, I assure you," said Conway, smiling, for the fire-eating proclivities of the other rather amused him. "They were very nat- ural, I thi~k; only for once you let preju- dine weigh more than proof. In your place, I might have done the same; and, if you had charged me with the blackest crime in the decalogue, I am sure I could forgive it heartily, for I am not likely to forget that it ~was you, not I, who found her." * Nowell bent his head. "Yes, I found her," he said, and there was no little bitterness in th~ tone. "I found her-for you." "God only knows that," said the other; "for Tie only knows whether or not she will ever be herself again. We can only hope; and meanwhile-I am sorry to hear you say that we are never likely to be friends. Why not?" "For a good many reasons," answered Nowell, as coldly as ever. "We have noth- ing in common, for one. But, as I said be- fore, we need not be enemies and we can at least respect each other." "I am determined that we shall do more than that; I am determined that we shall also like each other." Nowell smiled faintly in his dry, cold way. "You will accomplish a prodigy then," he said. "It was a wise man who said first that nothing isimpossible, however; twenty years hence, we . may like each other. In the mean time, my duty is done, and I must leave you, for I have business here. Good- day." 'He stopped as he spoke, in front of a lawyer's office, and, be fore Cenway could do more than echo his salutation, vanished. "His duty done," repeated the latter, as he pursued his way. "I congratulate him on that, for mine is yet to come. I must write at once and make the amende 1ionora1~le to poor Cyril. I wonder if he will ever forgive me I-and yet the fault was not mine. How far astray we all went!" How far, indeed; and yet already the dawn of the brighter day appeared; already the clouds of suspicion fled back into the past -forsaking even that lonely grave where, under the bloom of the magnolias, Ainslie slept. Months ~rolled by, and still the Seyton party remained abroad, sending many bulle- tins home, yet speaking guardedly and cau- tiously of Mabel in all of them. The medi- cal men gave very little hope, they said, but still did not absolutely declare the malady incurable. They prescribed perfect rest, and entire absence from any associations recalling the past. But of the future they were absolutely reticent, and promised nothing. She might recover, or she might not; the case was a singular one, and there was little experience bearing upon it. In Mabel herself there was scarcely any change reported, even when six months had gone by. She was still as gentle and passive as ever, and still asked incessantly for "Philip "-that was, all. At the end of the year, Mr. Seyton left her and Constance in Paris with Mrs. Conway, and came over for Mrs. Lee. Then, once more, Conway pe- titioned eagerly to accompany them back; but his uncle would not listen to it. "We hope and trust she is somewhat better," he said. "She has ceased to mention, and ~eems to have forgotten you-which the doctors think a good sign. We must not tamper with her by any risk. Stay where you are." So once more the ehafing, impa- tient heart was left behind in its enfQrced quietude, while the others sailed away-far away, toward the distant city where Mabel sojourned. In the course of the next few months, the letters grew more encouraging in their tone. The doctors began to give more de- cided leave for hope. Mabel's mind seemed to be gradually clearing of its mist, and ac- quiring something of the vigor of health. She took interest in her old occupations, and entered into amusements and pleasures with some faint shade of appreciation. She began4d recall very distinctly the things and people of her past life-always ex- cepting the period which commenced with Conway's arrival at Seyton House, and ended with her own coming to Paris. When the second, summer of her absence came round, Mr. Seyton wrote that the doctors prescribed travel and change of scene; so the whole party were going to Switzerland, and thence to any place Mabel might desire. From Switzerland the news grew even more cheering. "These glorious mountain re- gions have seemed to do her more good than any thing else," 4Jor~tance wrote. "Her first reat intereet-by that, I mean interest which isnot inerelysimulatedtogive'us~Aeas- ure, butis born of her own sensationa-has beenshown here. Sheiseheerful always, and sometimes even gay; but occasionally that dark cloud of melancholy steals over her, and then I tremble. The danger is not past yet. But she can almost always be roused from her depression, which was not formerly the case; and she seems, at other times, to have recovered much of her old sunny disposition. Her physical. health is, thank God, entirely perfect." And so the summer passed, and, when the fall came, instead of turning their faces toward Paris again, they wenton into Italy, at Mabel's own request. The winter was spent in Rome, andy in the spring, they began for the first time to speak of return- 11 ing home. Mabel was quite her old self, the letters which announced this re~o1utio~ said; had entirely recovered, save in the single respect of totallyforgetting the period of time before meutioued. The efforts to lead her memory hack to. this h~d felled utterly. It was a perfect :blaulc-,-a space that seemed to have lapsed out of' her life. This weakness, the ph~rsieians said, would never be cured; but otherwise they pro- nounced her mind to be once more perfectly healthy and well-balanced. So at laet~ tw~ years and a half after she left Charleston, Mabel was coming back to her native place, and the people of Ayre rejoiced over the news as they might have rejoiced over the raising of one from the dead. The retu.rning party landed in May, and, strangely enough, it was on the same day of the month when Philip Conway had reached Seyton House three years before, that they entered Ayre. He who hadhorne this long separation so well, had been for- bidden to meet them, so he remained at the house, and was pacing the front portico with impatient steps, when a travelling-car- riage drove up. By the time he reached it, his uncle was handing out a lady,' and the next moment he was in h~s mother's arms. After the first greeting, his questions were all of Mabel. How had she borne it? How had she stood the test of return? "Admirably well," his mother ,said~ "She remembered every thing perfectly; and, seemed deeply affected by the joy which every pue testified at seeing her. Despite all prohibitions, there was a perfect ev&ti~a of welcome, an~l, in the midst of it, they scarcely noticed me, who have not been here for twenty years or more." "Ah, but you went away very differ- ently, Adela," said Mr Seyton, with a sigh. "Yes, she has stood it better even than we dared to hope, but the test will be when she meets you, Phil. I tremble for the result. I almost fear we have done wrong to try it." "No," said Conway. "You have done right. If her miifd is perfectly reeLor.~~ there will be no danger. If not, it is better to know it~ The question is, will she reeog- 101 page: 162-163 (Advertisement) [View Page 162-163 (Advertisement) ] ~I82 NADEL LEE. nize~ me, or shall I have to meet her as a stranger?" Both the others shook their heads. They could not tell that. Time would have to show; and meanwhile he must be patient a little longer. He could not see her that day; she had had excitement enough; ho must wait until the next. So the heart which had borne so much, bore also this last delay, which was perhaps the hardest of all. But the next morning early, a message was sent into the town to prepare Constance for his coming, and bid h~r arrange that he should meet. Mabel, ap- parently at least, alone. A little later he entered the boat, and rowed past the gar- dens where he had first met her, past the island where the midsummer-night pavilion yet stood, past the willow-edged banks by which they had fio~ted so often together, until he reached the well-known steps at the foot of Mrs. Lee's garden. Then, for the first time, his heart ~'ailed him. What if the experiment should, after all, i~esu1t disas- trously? What if the shock should bring back her insanity? He hesitated, faltered, almost turned back; might indeed have done so, if he had not heard a clear voice lilting a song he knew well-a song Mabel had often sung for him in the days that seemed so very far away. It was only a stanza that floated down ~to his ear, on the soft May air; but, when it ended, his irres- olution was gone.. He forgot the weary 1 years of absence, the long estrangement, the cruel cloud, that had been between them; he only thought of her as he first saw her, hi the spring-tide freshness of her beauty and grace. 'The next moment he sprang up the steps, and walked along the garden-path. He had not gone far, before he stepped ab- ruptly-she was there !~ Yes, she was there, sitting on a low seat beneath a rose-bush, as fair and fresh and lovely~ as his fancy had pictured her, five minutes before-sitting with the tender green of the foliage, and the tinted petals of the blossoms, all around her-a vision that might have stirred a heart of stone. He paused, but she had heard his step, and looked up. His heart seemed to make one bound, and then stand still, for on the next moment hinged every thing they hoped or feared. She gazed at him~for an instant, with half wonder, half-struggling recogni- tion in her eyes. And then she held out her hands with a cry. "Philip I" she said, and, when he sprang forward, she fell faint- ing into his arms. Instantly a group that had been am- bushed in the arbor-Constance, Mrs. Con- way, and Mr. Seyton-rushed forth, in wild alarm. But he beckoned them back,~ and bent over her, calling her name in every tender tone. The swoon was very slight, for, after a moment, she recovered sufficient- ly to open her eyes and look at him-won- deringly, it seemed. "My love, my love," he said, "do you not know me?" I promised to meet you, -and I am here-yours, youi~ only and forever!" Then a smile, bright as an angers, came over her face. "Philip!" she repeated; and that was all that she said, but it told every thing, and ended their fears forever. THE END. MORTON HOUSE, A NOVeL By the Author of' "VALERIE AYLMER," One volume, paper covers, with four Illustrations, price, $i.OO; cloth, $1.50. "'Morton House' proves to us that at last we have a writer who understands her public. The story is located in the South; yet there is not a word of glorification of lost institutions or lost causes. This species of rubbish is ~simply brushed aside, and we have society as it is-not a brawling debating club, but an assemblage of individuals concerned in the ordinary ways of life. The plot serves; is thoroughly sensational, and yet tolerably reasonable. The characterizations are good-the con- versation is excellent. Above all, the tone is healthy and unostentatiously American. For the sake of our literature, we trust that the author will not pause in her new career, which certainly opens with the bravest promise."~Henry Ward .L'eeclser'e (Wristian Union. "The plot is interesting, the characters good, the dialogue amusing, and the whole book well done."-N. Y~ .Albion. "One of the most brilliant writers whom the South has produced, * * * There is intense power in many of the scenes."-N. Y~ Eveniz~q Mail. "A very readable story. The interest is sustained from the flr~t suggestion of mystery to the final dinogment."-Bogo,~ Ckri.,tian .Iegieler. "There is so much freshness in the tone, so much nature in the personages, and so much interest in the story, that 'Mortox~ House,' so neatly printed and well illus- trated, is one of the most attractive of Appleton & Co.'s standard novels. It has the topping merit of being very readable."-Boson 7i~anscript. "The plot and characterization of this~ story are more than good. They are marked by great force and~originality. Few finer specimens of manhood have ever been conceived than the two suitors of the heroine. The author has shown an elevation of sentiment and good taste, combined with an reflective style."-.-.PMIa. delpkia Age. "A charming picture of life in the South."- Wilmington (N. 6'.) Star. "The author's style is flowing, easy, and vivid. Her delineations of character graphic and true to nature. There is a fascination in all she writes, that betokens an original genius."-.&deimore American. "The author of 'Morton House' has the genuine dramatic perceptions which are indispensable to whoever would depict human character; and she is possessed of a literary style which is rarely found except in conjunction with other and higher mental qualities. In natural, easy, and graceful dialogue, we do not know a single living writer who surpasses her. Her books are interesting from beginning to end, and there are few pages which the zuost inveterate novel.reader will feel disposed to skip."-The Eclectic Magazine for J~znuary, 18'12. D. APPLETON & CO., Publishers, 549. & 551 BnoAnwAy, NEW Yoax~ page: 164 (Advertisement) -165 (Advertisement) [View Page 164 (Advertisement) -165 (Advertisement) ] VALERIE AYLMER. A. 1~OVEL~ B~Y" CHRISTIAN REID. ivol., Ovo. Paper covers, $1. In cloth, $1.50. VALKRIn Amxzn Is the first work of a young Southern author of brilliant promise, the scenes ef whose story are mainly in Louisiana and Maryland, In theycars Immediately following the late civil war. The book has met with extraordinary fhvor from the press. The Montreal News Is republishing It in Its columns, and, by permission of the publishers, the L6uIsville Courier-Journal, the most widely-circulated of Southern journals, is also printing the novel In Its weekly issue. NOTIO~IS OF T~W NORTHERN PRESS. b&The author of 'ValerleAlymer' baa made a most decided hit1 and cannot IMI to be universally recog. udasogo o(the rtalpg 4114 Wlall#l$ghtp of American literature. '-.tbrtiand Argus. "It Is iikill to. c umaud ~usasl stteutlon or the story, the style, and the skilful delineatIon of char. acter."-Bwtoss £4surlsr. "Acle~ors~ory.".-~BostO~s Daily .iAeerUser. "'Vle~iaAylmer'is ~ nove b a new ~vrlter, evldentlya person of culture, travel, considerable experience, and a '~'ht 52luoiin 1~?'tO niake him inter I brli~'~ t of proj doe eat ng. It Is cast in thechlvalrlo mould, and deals with t, 1isteii~eAashing, Wantlfhl hgh-strung sort of society which never did exipt, leastof all In Loul. slana.t The story itas as much merit as the chivalric style of novel can have. In thia key it Is averyb~~t and Interesting story. The author Indulges now and then in a little petulance toward the North, but tbis will wear off In tlme."-HarVorsf £burant. "The book baa genuine merit. It Is written with both vigor andgrace the plot Is weli constructed, ~the actors are live persons, and talk like people or sense and culture, and C1'I are very graphic. '-.. the esc~.ptons "The scene Islald chiefly in New Orleans and Baltimore, and It is quietly assumed thatthe society of the South presents the nearest resemblance to Paradise that baa survived the fall. The women are parsons of loveliness and grace, enchantment breathes frotatheir features and the musicof heave~i lingers in thei~volce~ As models of masculine breeding, In whom alone are combined chivalrous valor and noble courtesy, the men stand out conspicuously fromthe canvas with every virtue that makes them the ornaments of their sex. The love of music aud*pa~tlug which pervades the work isexhibited In several passages or glowing description that shed a gorgeous light over the narrative. In these portions of the story the power ofthewilter appears to the greatest advnntage."-N. 7. Tribune. "The book forms avety, creditable addition to the stock of native fldUo~."-1Y'. 7. 2Vmes. "A thoiot~glrAhterlcan novel. The heroine Is lovely, accomplished, and brilliant. The chief merit of the tale llesInlts~4IaIoghe. Barely has th~converMtIon~l tone been so thoronghiypreaerved."-PMIa. I~wee. "It Is very cleverly written, the dialogue Is~rightly, and the chareeters well drawn. Certainly thIs boo) leone of the best and most readable novels or the season."-PMladeipMa .1-bet. "The obarsetersare boldly drawn and well defined. 'Valo~le' Is charmingly pronounced, and Is at e of the splrIted2~ovelli~esp tbat-hnq not been cauBelessly commendc4 south of the Ohio, Altogether, the story Is well susta~ued ~nd creditable., The author shows ins descriptive powers."-Pkilad#pA5a Gazette. "Its tone and ~ondecoy are nne~eeptIonabie. The scene beinglald in the Southern States Immediately after the war, creates soute difficulty in treating the story in a manner acceptable to one part of the eountt, and not offensive to the other. In this the author has been remarkably successful. While a Northern reader might not sympathize with the feelings of many of the characters, he cannot but admit that It Is very natural they should enteriaiu theni.'~-PMdaWpAia Aqc. "Thestyle of the woik Is asilmatedand strong, the characterewelidrawn, thedlalognelivelyand animated, and th ry daad~su5t4ne4~lhtsreat~-CM~age ,TounaaL " The volume ksbarpsprIg~tly, spirited, even vI~iorous. It Is better than the majority of novels."- Chicago Nsenlng lbet. NOTICES OF TH~ SOUTHERN PRESS. TMOne of thebest.nf modern American novels."-BultEmow Gazette. A6 lbs cnepwb bare before isa 8oi~thern novel, containing so many elements of good, and showing so powa41lrsiI~z~ssls ne~ferbesranceandmay bejudged squarely upon Its merits. 'Valerie Ajlmer' Is sihe author's retpsb but It i~ w4tten by one whope owers are $n the and in plan as flada qn1]~e1w~thdoeahoeor to our people, aJor which the Son&sni be proud.".-. "?The sto~Ia veryinteresting, and admirably written."-Charluton Courier. "ha a pIcture of Southern life and character, as developed since the war, It barn not been surpassed or .qqualleL'~Magvet (Ga.) Cbw*r. 'Valerie hylmer' stamps the young authoress as a woman of genlua."-Augueta Chronicle. ' The beauties of the book are manIfold. There are passages and chapters In 'Valerie Aylmer' which the 4rstAiR.rleanmlterswould ict blush to own. As a Southern novel Itis by far the best that has appeared dnethewar.t~-5ssmuah Newt. '~Few~ovels of the season have been so generally and so warmly pralssd."-NoWe iWisest. "AUhalla geaulne American story and a genuine American ptery-teliera story4elierto the manes born, ~storymuyofthe soil I Here is a novel of real life as current as a news~s~, and asabundantinlocal color, ~ commonplace; the best noveiofsoelety yet produced on this side ournaI~ D, APPLETON & 00.9 Pub~Ishors. 3 CuAs. DICKENS. Now Complete, In 18 vols. Paper (Jover8. Price, $5.00. LIST OF TILE ~VORKS: OLIVER TWIST,----------------------------172 AMERICAN NOTES, *. . 104 DOMBEY & SON, . . -856 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT, . 841 OUR' MUTUAL FRIEND, . . . . 840 CHRISTMAS STORIES,------------------------ma TALE OF TWO CITIES, . - - - - 144 HARD TIMES, and A1A~ITIONAL CHRISTMAS STORIES, 202 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY,.......................888 BLEAK HOUSE,-----------------------------352 LITTLE DORRIT,----------------------------348 PIORWICK PAPERS, - - 326 DAVID COPPERFIELD, - - - - 851 BARNABY RUDGE,..........................257 OLD OU.RIOSITY SHOP,. . . . 221 GREAT EXPECTATIONS, 188 SKETCHES, . -----------194 pages, 25 eent~ " 15 " " 85 ~ "85 " " 85 ~ " 25 " " 20 " " 251" 6( ~6 '4 '4 UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER, PICTURES OF 1TALY~ AND REPRINTED PIECES,------------------800 85 85 85 85 85 30 80 25 25 85 " Any person o~de~g~~the entire set, and remIttln~ ~, wfll receive a Portrait of Dickens suitable for framing. The entlrC set wilIbe sent by mallor express, at our option, postage or freight prepaid, to any part of the United States. Single copies of any of tise above sent to any address in tke United ,Stutes on tke receipt of tise price a~j&ved. LIBRARY EDITION OP CHARLES DICKENS'S WORKS,. Complete in Six Volumes, with 82 Illustrations. Price, $1.75 per Vol., ow $10.50 the Set; Half ealf~ $8.50 per VoL APPLETONS' (so-CALLED) PLU1~I-PUDDING EDITION 0? THu WORKS OF page: 166 (Advertisement) -167 (Advertisement) [View Page 166 (Advertisement) -167 (Advertisement) ] A.PPLETO~$' EDITION OP THE WAVERLEY NOVELS, Prom new Stereotype Plates, uniform with the New Edition of DICEENS, containing all the Notes of the Author, and printed from the latest edition of the Authorized Text. Complete in Twenty-Five Volumes. Price, 2~ Cents Each. Printed on fine white paper, clear type, and convenient ir~ size. Pronounced "A lifiracle of Cheapness." GEDEIf OF ISSUE: I. WAVERLEY. 14. FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 2. 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On receipt of Tea Dollars, a complete set of DIcKENs (In uniform style) 18 volumes, and WALvERLEY, 25 volumes, will be sent post.pald. The cheapest Ten Dollars' worth to be found in the whole range of Literature. Forty.three volumes for $10. LIBRARY EDITION 01" The Waverley Novels, Complete In Six Volumes. Uniform with the "Library Edition of Dickens." Each volume illustrated with Steel and Wood Engravings. Bound in morocco cloth, gilt side and back. Price9 in cloth, $1.'15; half calf, ~ per vox. CAPT. LUIRYAT'S POPIJIAR NOVELS, AT IPIFTY CENTS PER VOLUME. ~andsoinely printed, from large, clear type, on good paper, and of convenient size. l2mo. With an Illustrated Cover. PRICE, FIFTY CENTS. THE WHOLE CONSISTS OF I. II. III. IV. .v. VI. VII. VIII. IX. x. XI.. XII. MIDSHIPMAN EASY. PETER SIMPLE. JACOB FAITHFUL. NAVAL OFFICER. KING'S OWN. JAPHET IN SEARCH OF A FATHER NEWTON FORSTER. PACHA OF MANY TALES. THE POACHER. THE PHANTOM SHIP. SNARLEYOW. PERCIVAL KEENE. The entire Set soW be 8ent, poet-free, on receipt of *5.50. Ant, 'volume sent, poet-free, on receipt of the price. I). APPLETON & CO., Publishers. page: 168 (Advertisement) -169[View Page 168 (Advertisement) -169] IJ1LTi1NTAT APPLETONS' ~JVU1UNAL * FOR 197g. APPLETONS' JOU3NAL for l~72 will Continue to present a varied literature of a class that unites entertainment with permanent value, and to justify It. reputation ~s a Journal of .&rt. ITS LE4DI~G J!EILTURES W'ILL BE: AMERICAN LOCALiTIES AND SCENERY.-The series of Illustrated Papers depicting the Landscapes and Places In America, which have been so popular a feature of the JotnurAr. heretofore, will be continued. These Illustra. tions are the result of personal search for the picturesque on the part of the artists, or many months have tray- * eased different sectiolis of ljhe country, for the purpose of securing a series of fresh, vivid, graphic, and thoroughly truthful delineations of American localities. ilAunY ~ the most distinguished of our landacape-draughtamen, will give his time exclusively to this series. PORTRAiTS AND BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES.-Adlstlngulshingfeature of the JOUHNAL will he a continu- ation of the series of PortrMts of Celebrities in Literature, Science, and Art, whlvh have already been so popular. The Portraits are of unusual excellence in execution, and the Biographical Sketches that accompany them are from writers well informed as regards their topics. The author of "Morton House" and "Valerie Aylmer," the most successful of recent American novels, will con- tribute short stories end sketches frequently during the year. Jua~wr~ HAWTHORHE, son of the distinguished romancist, will continue to contribute poems and stories to the JOUExAL. This young writer exhibits, It is generally conceded, not a little of that peculiar and original genius which has made the name of Hawthorne so flimous in English literature. Colonel Jonx HAY, the brilliant author of "Little Breeches," "Jim Bludsoe," and "Castllian Days," will contribute occasIonally. R. H. STODDARD will furnish occasional biographies of the poets. "LADY SWEETAPPLE; on, THREE TO ONE," a brilliant novel, by the author of "Annals of an Eventful Life," will form the leading serial during the early pert of the year. "GOOD-BYE, SWEETHEART!" a novel of singular charm and freshness, from the brilliant and vivacious pen * of RHoDA Bnoueuroz~, author of" Red as a Rose Is She," etc., Is now publishing in Its pages. Professor SOHELE DE Vinin, of the University of Virginia, will continue his series of highly-entertaining papers on popular science. Euomu BENsON and Hiusur WARE will contribute papers descriptive of llfe, art, and places abroad. ALBERT WEBSTER, Jr., whose short stories have evinced so much power, will write exclusively for the pages of Ara'ran~oxs' JotrHEAz. GEORGE Iii. Towni~ will furnish biographical papers, and articles on topics of general interest.~ F. 0. C. DARLEY will give from his graphic pencil a series of "Pictures of Character" American and foreign. HENRY T. TUCEmIKAN, the distinguished essayist and critic, will continue to furnish articles on literature and biography. Jom~ Ewrin~ CooxE, ofYirginla, Paim H. Ha~ien, of Georgia, end F. R. Grnamm (author of"The Maroonera"), furnish sketehesof Southern life, character, and places. A series of good-natured satires, under the title of "The Habits of Cood Society," from the pencil of Mr. Thomas will supply an amusing feature. upon the various subjects that pertain to the Pursuits and Rcereatlons of the People, whether of Stories, Sketehes, and Poems, may be expectedfroni the leading periodical writers 1n~America; whatever is fresh, vivid, animated, or valuable, will be secured for Its pages, and no effort spared to render it the leading liters weekly form a notable feature In the JouaurAi. Price of ArrLxvoNs' JoUDNAL, 10 cents per number, or $4.00 per annum, in advance. Subscriptions received for twelve or six months. Any person procuring five yearly subscriptions, and remitting $20.00, will be entitled to a copy for one year gratis. Nw SuBsonsamss TO APPLEIONS' JOURNAL TOR 15T2 WILL RECEIVE THE NUMBERs TROll ]~)EUHEBER 2D, coN- TAINING 4MB BEGINNiNG OF TEE NuiV SERIAL STORY, "L~trr 8WEETAPI'LE.," GRATUrrOUsLY. AppWon.' Sbur.zal, ancZ eW~er W~eehj, R~zs~er'e Baacer, Magaeims, LippincoWs .Jfaga- ste, tAo Atksmtle .af~rnt~'ay, or tAo for otis iloar, On receipt of Appleton.' ~Tout'na1 and LiUeZZ'e JAting Age, ,p1~r $10.00. Appleto.s' Journat and Oliver C~ptio'a APPLETONS' JOURNAL is also put up In snonthly parts; suhsiription price, $~50 per-annum. Th~ postage within the United States, fur the JOURNAL, Is 20 cents a year, payable yearly, seml-yearlyo~ quarterly, In advance, at the office where received. SubscrIptIons from Canada must be accompanied wIth 20 cents additional, to prepay the U. S. postage. New-York Oltyand Brooklyn subscribers should remit 20 cents extrato prepay for postage and delivery of their numbers. 2). APPLETON & CO., Publishers, 549 & 551 BROAPWAY, NEW Yoiix.
