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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 57785 ***
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+NEW YORK: ITS UPPER TEN AND LOWER MILLION.
+
+
+BY GEORGE LIPPARD.
+
+AUTHOR OF "ADONAI," "WASHINGTON AND HIS GENERALS," "THE QUAKER CITY,"
+"PAUL ARDENHEIM," "BLANCHE OF BRANDYWINE," "LEGENDS OF MEXICO," "THE
+NAZARENE," ETC. ETC. ETC.
+
+
+CINCINNATI: PUBLISHED BY E. MENDENHALL.
+
+NEW YORK: A. RANNEY.
+
+1854.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Author Portrait.]
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+ PRELIMINARY SKETCH
+
+ PROLOGUE
+
+
+ Part First.
+
+ "FRANK VAN HUYDEN." DEC. 23 1844.--EVENING.
+
+
+ CHAPTER I.    "DOES HE REMEMBER?"
+
+ CHAPTER II.   FRANK AND HER SINGULAR VISITOR.
+
+ CHAPTER III.  THE CHILDHOOD OF THE MIDNIGHT QUEEN.
+
+ CHAPTER IV.   MAIDENHOOD.
+
+ CHAPTER V.    ON THE ROCK.
+
+ CHAPTER VI.   AMONG THE PALISADES.
+
+ CHAPTER VII.  IN THE FOREST NOOK.
+
+ CHAPTER VIII. HOME, ADIEU!
+
+ CHAPTER IX.   ERNEST AND HIS SINGULAR ADVENTURES.
+
+ CHAPTER X.    THE PALACE-HOME.
+
+ CHAPTER XI.   "SHE'LL DO!"
+
+ CHAPTER XII.  A REVELATION.
+
+ CHAPTER XIII. MORPHINE.
+
+ CHAPTER XIV.  THE SALE IS COMPLETE.
+
+ CHAPTER XV.   "LOST--LOST, UTTERLY!"
+
+
+ Part Second.
+
+ FROM NIGHTFALL UNTIL MIDNIGHT. DEC. 23, 1844.
+
+
+ CHAPTER I.    BLOODHOUND AND THE UNKNOWN.
+
+ CHAPTER II.   THE CANAL STREET SHIRT STORE.
+
+ CHAPTER III.  "DO THEY ROAR?"
+
+ CHAPTER IV.   THE SEVEN VAULTS.
+
+ CHAPTER V.    THE LEGATE OF THE POPE.
+
+ CHAPTER VI.   "JOANNA!"
+
+ CHAPTER VII.  THE WHITE SLAVE AND HIS SISTER.
+
+ CHAPTER VIII. ELEANOR LYNN.
+
+ CHAPTER IX.   BERNARD LYNN.
+
+ CHAPTER X.    "YES! YOU WILL MEET HIM."
+
+ CHAPTER XI.   IN THE HOUSE OF THE MERCHANT PRINCE.
+
+ CHAPTER XII.  "SHOW ME THE WAY."
+
+ CHAPTER XIII. "THE REVEREND VOLUPTUARIES."
+
+ CHAPTER XIV.  "BELOW FIVE POINTS."
+
+
+ Part Third.
+
+ THROUGH THE SILENT CITY. DEC. 24, 1844.
+
+
+ CHAPTER I.    THE DEN OF MADAM RESIMER.
+
+ CHAPTER II.   "HERMAN, YOU WILL NOT DESERT ME?"
+
+ CHAPTER III.  HERMAN, ARTHUR, ALICE.
+
+ CHAPTER IV.   THE RED BOOK.
+
+ CHAPTER V.    "WHAT SHALL WE DO WITH HER?"
+
+ CHAPTER VI.   A BRIEF EPISODE.
+
+ CHAPTER VII.  THROUGH THE SILENT CITY.
+
+ CHAPTER VIII. IN TRINITY CHURCH.
+
+ CHAPTER IX.   THE END OF THE MARCH.
+
+
+
+ Part Fourth.
+
+ IN THE TEMPLE--FROM MIDNIGHT UNTIL DAWN. DEC. 24, 1844.
+
+
+ CHAPTER I.    THE CENTRAL CHAMBER.
+
+ CHAPTER II.   THE BLUE ROOM.
+
+ CHAPTER III.  THE GOLDEN ROOM.
+
+ CHAPTER IV.   THE BRIDAL CHAMBER.
+
+ CHAPTER V.    THE SCARLET CHAMBER.
+
+ CHAPTER VI.   BANK STOCK AT THE BAR.
+
+ CHAPTER VII.  "WHERE IS THE CHILD OF GULIAN VAN HUYDEN?"
+
+ CHAPTER VIII. BEVERLY AND JOANNA.
+
+ CHAPTER IX.   MARY BERMAN--CARL RAPHAEL.
+
+
+
+
+ Part Fifth.
+
+ THE DAWN, SUNRISE AND DAY. DEC. 24, 1844.
+
+
+ CHAPTER I.     "THE OTHER CHILD."
+
+ CHAPTER II.    RANDOLPH AND HIS BROTHER.
+
+ CHAPTER III.   THE HUSBAND AND THE PROFLIGATE.
+
+ CHAPTER IV.    ISRAEL AND HIS VICTIM.
+
+ CHAPTER V.     MARY, CARL, CORNELIUS.
+
+ CHAPTER VI.    A LOOK INTO THE RED BOOK.
+
+ CHAPTER VII.   MARION MERLIN.
+
+ CHAPTER VIII.  NIAGARA.
+
+ CHAPTER IX.    A SECOND MARRIAGE.
+
+ CHAPTER X.     A SECOND MURDER.
+
+ CHAPTER XI.    MARION AND HERMAN BARNHURST.
+
+ CHAPTER XII.   MARION AND FANNY.
+
+ CHAPTER XIII.  AN UNUTTERABLE CRIME.
+
+ CHAPTER XIV.   SUICIDE.
+
+ CHAPTER XV.    AFTER THE DEATH OF MARION.
+
+
+
+ Part Sixth.
+
+ DAY, SUNSET, NIGHT. DECEMBER 24, 1844.
+
+
+ CHAPTER I.    ARRAYED FOR THE BRIDAL.
+
+ CHAPTER II.   HERMAN AND GODIVA.
+
+ CHAPTER III.  THE DREAM ELIXIR.
+
+ CHAPTER IV.   THE BRIDAL OF JOANNA AND BEVERLY.
+
+ CHAPTER V.    AN EPISODE.
+
+
+
+ Part Seventh.
+
+ THE DAY OF TWENTY-ONE YEARS. DEC. 25, 1844.
+
+
+ CHAPTER I.    MARTIN FULMER APPEARS.
+
+ CHAPTER II.   "THE SEVEN" ARE SUMMONED.
+
+ CHAPTER III.  "SAY, BETWEEN US THREE!"
+
+ CHAPTER IV.   THE LEGATE OF HIS HOLINESS.
+
+ CHAPTER V.    THE SON, AT LAST!
+
+ CHAPTER VI.   A LONG ACCOUNT SETTLED.
+
+ CHAPTER VII.  THE BANQUET ROOM ONCE MORE.
+
+
+
+ Epilogue.     ON THE OCEAN--BY THE RIVER SHORE--IN THE VATICAN--ON
+               THE PRAIRIE.
+
+
+
+
+PRELIMINARY SKETCH.
+
+
+CHRISTMAS EVE, 1823, was a memorable night in the history of a certain
+wealthy family in New York. The night was dark and stormy, but the
+tempest which swept over the bay, and whitened the city's roofs with
+snow, was but a faint symbol of the tempest of human passion--jealousy,
+covetousness, despair--then at work, in the breasts of a group of
+individuals, connected with the old and distinguished family of VAN
+HUYDEN.
+
+On that night, GULIAN VAN HUYDEN, the representative of the family, and
+owner of its immense wealth--a young man in the prime of early manhood,
+who had been happily married a year before--gave a great banquet to his
+male friends, in his city mansion. By his side was seated his younger
+brother, CHARLES VAN HUYDEN, whom the will of their father had confined
+to a limited income, while GULIAN, as the elder son, had become the
+possessor of nearly all of the immense wealth of the family.
+
+The banquet was prolonged from about nine o'clock until near dawn,
+and during its progress, Gulian and his brother had been alternately
+absent, for the space of an hour, or a half hour at a time.
+
+The city mansion of Gulian, situated not far from Trinity Church, flung
+the blaze of its festival lights out upon the stormy night. That light
+was not sufficient to light up the details of two widely different
+edifices, which, located within a hundred yards of Gulian's mansion,
+had much to do with his fortunes, and the fortunes of his family.
+
+The nearest of these edifices, an antique, high-roofed house, which
+stood in a desolate garden, was (unknown to Gulian) the home of his
+brother, and of that brother's mistress--a woman whom Charles did not
+wish to marry, until by some chance or other, he became the possessor
+of the Van Huyden estate.
+
+The other edifice, a one-storied hovel, was the home of a mechanic and
+his young wife. His name was JOHN HOFFMAN, his trade that of a stone
+mason, and at the period of this narrative, he was miserably poor.
+
+Now, during the night of Christmas eve (and while the banquet was in
+progress in Gulian's city mansion), an unknown person, thickly cloaked,
+entered the hovel of the mechanic, bearing a new-born child in his
+arms. An interview followed between the unknown, John Hoffman, and his
+wife. The mechanic and his wife consented to adopt the child in place
+of one which they had recently lost. The stranger with the child,
+gave them a piece of parchment, which bore on one side, the initials,
+"G. G. V. H. C." and on the other the name of "DR. MARTIN FULMER," an
+eccentric physician, well known in New York. This parchment deposited
+in a letter addressed to Dr. Fulmer, and sent to the post office once a
+quarter, would be returned to the mechanic, accompanied by the sum of
+a hundred dollars. John was especially enjoined to keep this interview
+and its results a secret from the Doctor. Having deposited the child
+and parchment with the worthy couple, the stranger departed, and was
+never again seen by the mechanic or his wife.
+
+Within an hour of this singular interview the mistress of Charles Van
+Huyden, returned to her home (from which she had been absent for a
+brief period)--flakes of snow upon her dress and upon her disordered
+hair--and placed upon her bed, the burden which she carried, a new-born
+infant, enveloped in a shawl. As the fallen, but by no means altogether
+depraved woman, surveyed this infant, she also beheld her own child,
+sleeping in a cradle not far from the bed--a daughter some three months
+old, and named after its mother FRANK, that is, FRANCIS VAN HUYDEN.
+
+Christmas Eve passed away, and Christmas morning was near. Dr. Martin
+Fulmer was suddenly summoned to Gulian's mansion. And Gulian, fresh
+from the scenes of the banquet room, met the Doctor in an obscure
+garret of his mansion. He first bound the Doctor by an oath, to yield
+implicit obedience to all his wishes, an oath which appealed to all
+that was superstitious, as well as to all that was truly religious in
+the Doctor's nature, and then the interview followed, terrible and
+momentous in its details and its results. These results stretch over
+a period of twenty-one years--from December 25, 1823, to December 25,
+1844. This interview over, Gulian left the Doctor (who, stupefied and
+awe-stricken by the words which he had just heard, sank kneeling on
+the floor of the room in which the interview had taken place), and
+silently departed from his mansion. He bent his steps to the Battery.
+And then--young, handsome, the possessor of enormous wealth--he left
+this life with the same composure, that he had just departed from his
+mansion. In plain words, he plunged into the river, and met the death
+of the SUICIDE in its ice-burdened waves, while his brother Charles
+(whom we forgot to state, had accompanied him from the threshold of his
+home), stood affrighted and appalled on the shore.
+
+Meanwhile, Dr. Martin Fulmer (bound by his oath), descended from the
+garret into a bedchamber of the Van Huyden mansion. Upon the bed was
+stretched a beautiful but dying woman. It was Alice Van Huyden, the
+young wife of Gulian. All night long (while the banquet progressed
+in another apartment) she had wrestled in the agonies of maternity,
+unwatched and alone. She had given birth to a child, but when the Dr.
+stood by the bed, the child had been removed by unknown hands.
+
+Convinced of his wife's infidelity--believing that his own brother
+Charles was the author of his dishonor--Gulian had left his mansion,
+his wealth, life and all its hopes, to meet the death of the suicide in
+the waves of Manhattan Bay.
+
+And Dr. Martin Fulmer, but a few hours ago a poor man, now found
+himself, as he stood by the bed of the dying wife, the _sole trustee_
+of the Van Huyden Estate.
+
+His trust was to continue for twenty-one years. In case of his death,
+he had power to appoint a successor. And at the end of twenty-one
+years, on the 25th of December, 1844, the estate (swelled by the
+accumulations of twenty-one years), was, by the will of Gulian Van
+Huyden, to be disposed of in this wise:
+
+I. In case a son of Gulian should appear on that day (December 25th,
+1844), the estate should descend absolutely to him. Or,
+
+II. In case on the day named, it should be proven to the satisfaction
+of the Trustee, that such a son had been in existence, but had met his
+death in a truly just cause, then the estate was to be disposed of,
+according to the directions embodied in a sealed codicil (which was not
+to be opened until December 25, 1844). But in case such a son did not
+appear, and in case his death in a truly just cause was not proven on
+the appointed day, then,
+
+III. The estate was to be divided among the heirs of _seven_ persons,
+descendants of the first of the Van Huydens, who landed on Manhattan
+Island, in the year 1623. These seven persons, widely distributed
+over the United States, were (by the directions of the Testator) to
+be furnished with a copy of the will. And among these seven or their
+heirs--that is, those of the number who appeared before Martin Fulmer,
+at the appointed place on the appointed day--the estate would be
+divided.
+
+Such in brief, were the essential features of the will.
+
+A few days after December 25, 1823, Charles Van Huyden, having in his
+possession $200,000 (given to him by Dr. Martin Fulmer, in accordance
+with the wishes of Gulian) left New York for Paris, taking with him
+his mistress (now his wife), their child "Francis" or "Frank," and the
+strange child which the woman had brought to her home, on Christmas
+Eve, 1823. Whether this "strange" child, or the child left with the
+poor mechanic, was the offspring of Gulian Van Huyden, will be seen
+from the narrative which follows this imperfect sketch.
+
+Twenty-one years pass away; it lacks but a day or two of December
+25th, 1844. Who are the seven heirs? Does a son of Gulian live? What
+has become of Charles Van Huyden; of Hoffman the mechanic, and of the
+child left in the care of the mechanic? What has become of Charles Van
+Huyden's wife and child?
+
+On a night in December 1844--say the 23d of the month--we shall find in
+New York, the following persons, connected with the fortunes of the Van
+Huyden family:
+
+The "SEVEN" or their heirs.
+
+I. GABRIEL GODLIKE, a statesman, who with an intellect rivaling some of
+the greatest names in our history, such as Clay, Calhoun or Webster, is
+destitute of the patriotism and virtues of these great men.
+
+II. HERMAN BARNHURST, a clergyman, who has lured from Philadelphia to
+New York, the only daughter of a merchant of the former city. This
+clergyman and his victim, are pursued by the Third of the Seven.
+
+III. ARTHUR DERMOYNE, a mechanic.
+
+IV. ISRAEL YORKE, a Banker.
+
+V. HARRY ROYALTON, OF HILL ROYAL, S. C. His claim to an undivided
+seventh of the Estate, will be contested by his half brother and
+sister, RANDOLPH and ESTHER, who although white, are alleged to have
+African blood in their veins.
+
+VI. BEVERLY BARRON, a "man of the world."
+
+VII. EVELYN SOMERS, a New York "Merchant Prince."
+
+2d. We shall find in New York, at the period before named, CHARLES
+VAN HUYDEN, transformed into COL. TARLETON, and endeavoring to remove
+from his hands the blood of a man whom he has slain in a duel. His
+daughter "FRANK" grown to womanhood, and brought into contact with
+"NAMELESS," who left in infancy at the hovel of John Hoffman, has after
+a childhood of terrible hardships--a young manhood darkened by madness
+and crime--suddenly appeared in New York, in company with a discharged
+convict. This convict is none other than John Hoffman the mechanic. And
+gliding through the narrative, and among its various actors, we shall
+find MARTIN FULMER, or his successor.
+
+With this preliminary sketch--necessarily brief and imperfect, for
+it covers a period of twenty-one years--the following narrative is
+submitted to the reader. Yet first, let us for a moment glance at the
+"VAN HUYDEN ESTATE." This estate in 1823, was estimated at two millions
+of dollars. What is it in 1844?
+
+The history of two millions of dollars in twenty-one years! Two
+millions left to go by itself, and ripen year after year, into new
+power, until at last the original sum is completely forgotten in the
+vast accumulation of capital. In the Old World twenty-one years glide
+by, and everything is the same. At the end of twenty-one years, two
+millions would still be two millions. Twenty-one years in the New World
+is as much as two centuries to the Old. The vast expanse of land;
+the constant influx of population; the space for growth afforded by
+institutions as different from those of Europe (that is from those
+of the past), as day from night--all contribute to this result. From
+1823 to 1844, the New World, hardened by a childhood of battle and
+martyrdom, sprang into strong manhood. Behold the philosophy of modern
+wealth, manifested in the growth of the Van Huyden Estate. Without
+working itself it bids others to work. Left to the age, to the growth
+of the people, the increase of commerce and labor, it swells into a
+wealth that puts the Arabian Nights to shame. In 1823 it comprises
+certain pieces of land in the heart of New York, and in the open
+country beyond New York. In 1844 the city land has repeated its value
+by a hundred; the country lots have become the abiding place of the
+Merchant Princes of New York. Cents in 1823, become dollars in 1844.
+This by the progress of the age, by the labor of the millions, and
+without one effort on the part of the lands or their owner. In 1823
+there is a country seat and farm on the North River; in 1844 the
+farm has become the seat of factories, mills, the dwelling place of
+five thousand tenants, whose labor has swelled the original value of
+$150,000 into ten millions of dollars. In 1823, five thousand acres,
+scattered over the wild west, are vaguely valued at $5000--in 1844
+these acres, located in various parts of the west, are the sites of
+towns, villages, mines, teeming with a dense population, and worth
+thirty millions of dollars. In 1823 a tract of barren land among the
+mountains of Pennsylvania, is bought for one thousand dollars; in 1844
+this tract, the location of mines of iron and coal, is worth TWENTY
+MILLIONS.
+
+Thus in twenty-one years, by _holding on to its own_, the Van Huyden
+Estate has swelled from TWO MILLIONS to ONE HUNDRED MILLIONS OF
+DOLLARS. The age moves on; it remains in its original proprietorship,
+swelled by the labor of millions, who derive but a penny where they
+bestow upon the estate a dollar. It works not; mankind works for
+it. Has this wealth no duties to mankind? Is there not something
+horrible in the thought of an entire generation, for mere subsistence,
+spending their lives, in order to make this man, this estate, or this
+corporation, the possessor of incredible wealth?
+
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE
+
+
+The lamp has gone out in the old familiar room! It used to shine, late
+at night upon the books, upon the pictures on the wall, and upon my
+face as I sat writing there! Oftentimes it shone upon another face
+which looked over my shoulder, and cheered me in my labor. But now
+the lamp has gone out--and forever. The face which looked upon me is
+gone; the coffin lid shut down upon it one Summer day! The room is
+dark forever. And the next room, where she used to sleep with her
+children--it is dark and still! The house is desolate! There are
+no voices to break its stillness! Her voice, and the voices of our
+children, are silent forever on this lower earth. My heart goes back
+to that house and to its rooms, and to the voices that once sounded
+there, and the faces which once made it glad, and with more than the
+bitterness of Death I confess, _that Time can never return_. Nevermore,
+nevermore, nevermore! Wealth may come; change of scene may deaden
+sorrow; wrestling with the world, may divert the soul from perpetual
+brooding, but the Truth is still the Truth, _that Time can never
+return_. And this is the end of all, after a life spent in perpetual
+battle--after toiling day and night for long years--after looking to
+the Future, hoping, struggling, suffering--to find at last, even before
+thirty years are mine, that the lamp has gone out, and forever! That
+those for whom I toiled and suffered--whose well-being was the impulse
+and the ultimate of all my exertions--are no longer with me, but gone
+to return never--nevermore. Upon this earth the lamp that lit my way
+through life, has indeed gone out, and forever. But is it not lighted
+now by a higher hand than mortal, and is it not shining now in a better
+world than this?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Once more I resume my pen. Since this work was commenced, Death has
+been busy with my home--death hath indeed laid my home desolate. It
+is a selfish thing to write for money, it is a base and a mean thing
+to write for fame, but it is a good and a holy thing to write for the
+approval of those whom we most intensely love. Deprived of this spring
+of action, it is hard, very hard to take up the pen once more. Write,
+write! but the face that once looked over your shoulder, and cheered
+you in your task, shall look over it no more. Write, write! and turn
+your gaze to every point of the horizon of life--not one face of home
+meets your eye.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Take up the pen once more. Banish the fast gathering memories--choke
+them down. Forget the ACTUAL of your own life, in the ideal to
+which the pen gives utterance. Brave old pen! Always trusted, never
+faithless! True through long years of toil, be true and steadfast now;
+when the face that once watched your progress is sleeping in graveyard
+dust. And when you write down a noble thought, or give utterance to
+a holy truth, may be, that face will smile upon your progress, even
+through the darkened glass which separates the present from the Better
+World.
+
+
+
+
+PART FIRST.
+
+"FRANK VAN HUYDEN."
+
+DEC. 23, 1844.--EVENING.
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+"DOES HE REMEMBER?"
+
+
+"Does he remember?" was the exclamation of Frank, as concealing
+the history of the Life of NAMELESS within her bosom, a singular
+expression flashed over her beautiful face. "Does he remember?" was her
+thought--"Is he conscious of the words which have fallen from his lips?
+Does he pass from this singular state of trance, only to forget the
+real history of his life?"
+
+The agitation which had convulsed the face of Nameless, at the moment
+when he emerged from the clairvoyant state (if thus we may designate
+it) soon passed away. His face became calm and almost radiant in its
+every line. His eyes, no longer glassy, shone with clear and healthy
+light; a slight flush animated his hitherto sallow cheeks; in a word,
+his countenance, in a moment, underwent a wonderful change.
+
+Frank uttered an exclamation of surprise.
+
+"Ah! I begin to live!" said Nameless, passing his hand over his
+forehead--"Yes, yes," he uttered, with a sigh of mingled sorrow and
+delight, "I have risen from the grave. For two years the victim of a
+living death, I now begin to live. The cloud is gone; I see, I see the
+light!"
+
+He rose and confronted Frank.
+
+"There was another child--yes, my mother gave birth to two children,
+one of whom your father stole on the night of its birth and reared as
+his own. His purpose you may guess. But what has become of that child?
+It disappeared, I know, at the time when your father arrived from
+Paris--_disappeared_, ha, ha, Frank! Did it not _disappear_ to rise
+into light again, on the 25th of December, 1844, as the _only child_
+of GULIAN VAN HUYDEN? Your father is a bold gamester; he plays with a
+fearless hand!"
+
+He paced the room, while Frank, listening intently to his words,
+watched with dumb wonder the delight which gave a new life to his
+countenance.
+
+"And Cornelius Berman, Frank--" he turned abruptly.
+
+"Died last year."
+
+His countenance fell.
+
+"And Mary--"
+
+"Followed her father to the grave."
+
+He fell back upon the sofa like a wounded man. It was some moments
+before he recovered the appearance of calmness.
+
+"How knew you this?"
+
+"A year ago, an artist reduced to poverty, through the agency of Israel
+Yorke, came to my home to paint my portrait. It was Cornelius Berman.
+Yorke had employed Buggles as his agent in the affair of the transfer
+of the property of Cornelius; Buggles the agent was dead indeed, but
+Yorke appeared upon the scene, as the principal, and sold Cornelius
+out of house and home. The papers which you took from the dead body
+of Buggles were only copies; the originals were in the possession of
+Israel Yorke."
+
+Nameless hid his face in his hands. He did not speak again until many
+minutes had elapsed.
+
+"And you thought that Cornelius had put Buggles to death?"
+
+"I gathered it from a rumor which has crept through New York for the
+last two years. The haggard face and wandering eye of the dying artist,
+who painted my picture, confirmed this impression."
+
+"And Cornelius came to this house?"'
+
+"No; to another house, where I had been placed by my father. He
+procured a person to represent a southern gentleman, and personate
+my father. That is, I was represented as the only child of a rich
+southerner; and in that capacity my picture was painted, and--and--I
+afterward visited the home of the artist, in a miserable garret, and
+saw his daughter, who assisted her father, by the humblest kind of
+work. She was a seamstress--she worked for 'sixteen cents per day.'"
+
+"And she is dead," said Nameless, in a low voice.
+
+"I lost sight of Mary and her father about a year ago, and have since
+received intelligence of their death."
+
+"How did you receive this intelligence?"
+
+"It was in all the papers. Beverly Barron wrote quite a touching poem
+upon the Death of the Artist and his Daughter. Beverly, you are aware,
+was eloquent upon such occasions: the death of a friend was always a
+godsend to him."
+
+Nameless did not reply, but seemed for a moment to surrender himself to
+the influence of unalloyed despair.
+
+"Look you, Frank," he said, after a long pause, "I have seventy-one
+thousand dollars--"
+
+"Seventy-one thousand dollars!" she ejaculated.
+
+"Yes, and it is 'FRANK AND NAMELESS AND NINETY-ONE AGAINST THE WORLD.'
+To-morrow is the 24th of December; the day after will be THE DAY. We
+must lay our plans; we must track Martin Fulmer to his haunt; we must
+foil your father, and, in a word, show the world that its cunning can
+be baffled and its crime brought to justice, by the combination of
+three persons--a Fallen Woman, a Convict and a Murderer! O, does it
+not make your heart bound to think of the good work we can do with
+seventy-one thousand dollars!"
+
+She gave him her hand, quietly, but her dark eye answered the
+excitement which flashed from every line of his countenance.
+
+"And will it not be a glorious thing for us, if we can wash away our
+crimes--yes, Frank, our crimes--and show the world what virtue lurks in
+the breast of the abandoned and the lost?"
+
+"Then I can atone for the crime of which I am guilty--for I am guilty
+of being the child of a man who sold me into shame--you are guilty of
+having stained your hands in the blood of a wretch who cursed the very
+air which he breathed--and Ninety-One, is guilty, yes guilty of having
+once been in--_my father's way_. These are terrible crimes, Gulian--"
+
+"Call me not by that name until the 25th of December," exclaimed
+Nameless.
+
+At this moment, Frank turned aside and from the drawer of a cabinet,
+drew forth a long and slender vial, which she held before the eyes of
+Nameless.
+
+"And if we fail, this will give us peace. It is a quiet messenger,
+Gulian. Within twelve hours after the contents of this vial have passed
+the lips, the body will sink into a peaceful sleep, without one sign or
+token to tell the tale of suicide. Yes, Gulian, if we fail, this vial,
+which I procured with difficulty, and which I have treasured for years,
+will enable us to fall asleep in each other's arms, and--forever!"
+
+"Suicide!" echoed Nameless, gazing now upon the vial, then upon her
+countenance, imbued with a look of somber enthusiasm--"You have thought
+of that?"
+
+"O had this vial been mine, in the hour when, pure and hopeful, I was
+sold into the arms of shame, do you think that for an instant I would
+have hesitated between the death that lays you quietly asleep in the
+coffin, and that death which leaves the body living, while it cankers
+and kills the soul?"
+
+Nameless took the vial from her hand and regarded it long and ardently.
+O what words can picture the strange look, which then came over his
+face! He uttered a deep sigh and placed the vial in her hands again.
+She silently placed it in the drawer of the cabinet.
+
+As she again confronted him, their eyes met,--they understood each
+other.
+
+"Frank," said Nameless in a measured tone--"Who owns this house? What
+is its true character?"
+
+Seating herself beside him on the sofa she replied:
+
+"As to the _owner_ of this house, you may be sure that he is a
+man of property and moral worth, a church-member and a respectable
+citizen. But do not imagine for a moment that this is a common haunt
+of infamy--no, my friend, no! None but the most select, the most
+aristocratic, ever cross the threshold of this place. Remain until
+twelve o'clock to-night and you will behold some of the guests who
+honor my house with their presence."
+
+There was a mocking look upon her face as she gave utterance to these
+words. She beat the carpet with her slipper and grasped the cross which
+rested on her bosom with a nervous and impatient clutch.
+
+"At twelve to-night!" echoed Nameless, and looked into her face. "I
+will remain;" and once more his whole being was enveloped in the
+magnetic influence which flowed from the eyes of the lost woman.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+FRANK AND HER SINGULAR VISITOR.
+
+
+It will soon fall to our task to depict certain scenes, which took
+place in the Empire City on the 23d of December, between nightfall
+and midnight. The greater portion of these scenes will find their
+legitimate development in "THE TEMPLE," from midnight until morning;
+while others will lift the "Golden Shroud" and uncover to our gaze
+threads and arteries of that great social heart of New York, which
+throbs with every pang of unutterable misery, or dilates and burns with
+every pulse of voluptuous luxury.
+
+Ere we commence our task, let us look in upon a scene which took place
+in the house of Frank, about nightfall and (of course) before Nameless
+had sought refuge in her room.
+
+Frank was sitting alone, in a quiet room near a desk upon which pen and
+ink and papers were spread. It was the room devoted to the management
+of her household affairs. She sat in an arm-chair, with her feet on a
+stool and her back to the window, while she lifted the golden cross
+and regarded it with an absent gaze. The white curtains of the windows
+were turned to crimson by the reflection of the setting sun, and the
+warm glow shining through the intervals of her black hair, which fell
+loosely on her shoulders, rested warmly upon her cheek. Her whole
+attitude was that of revery or dreamy thought.
+
+While thus occupied, a male servant, dressed in rich livery, entered,
+and addressed his mistress in these words:
+
+"Madam, _he_ wishes to see you."
+
+"He! Whom do you mean?" said Frank, raising her eyes but without
+changing her position.
+
+"That queer stranger, who never gives his name,--who has been here so
+often within the last three weeks,--I mean the one who wears the blue
+cloak with ever-so-many capes."
+
+Frank started up in her chair.
+
+"Show him in," she said,--"Yet stay a moment, Walker. Are all the
+arrangements made for to-night?"
+
+"Everything has been done, precisely as Madam ordered it to be done,"
+said the servant obsequiously.
+
+He then retired and presently the visitor entered. The room is wrapped
+in twilight and we cannot trace the details of his appearance clearly,
+for he seats himself in the shadow, opposite Frank. We can discern,
+however, that his tall form, bent with age, is clad in a blue cloak
+with numerous capes, and he wears a black fur hat with ample brim. He
+takes his seat quietly, and rests his hand upon the head of his cane.
+
+Not a word was spoken for several minutes. Each seemed to be waiting
+for the other to commence the conversation. Frank at last broke the
+embarrassing stillness.
+
+"Soh! you are here again."
+
+"Yes, madam," replied the stranger in a harsh but not unmusical voice,
+"according to appointment."
+
+"It is now three weeks since we first met," said Frank. "You purchased
+this house of the person from whom I leased it, some three weeks ago.
+But I have a lease upon it which has yet one year to run. You desire, I
+believe, to purchase my lease, and enter at once upon possession? Well,
+sir, I am resolved not to sell."
+
+Without directly replying to her question, the man in the cloak with
+many capes replied--
+
+"We did not meet three weeks ago for the first time," he said. "Our
+first meeting was long before that period."
+
+"What mean you?" said Frank raising her eyes and endeavoring, although
+vainly, to pierce the gloom which enshrouded the stranger. "O, it is
+getting dark. I will ring for lights."
+
+"Before you ring for lights, a word,--" the stranger's voice sank but
+Frank heard every word,--"we met for the first time at a _funeral_--"
+
+"At a funeral!"
+
+"At a funeral; and after the funeral I had _the body_ taken up
+privately and ordered a _post mortem_ examination to be made. Upon that
+body, madam,--" he paused.
+
+"Well, sir?" Frank's voice was tremulous.
+
+"Upon that body I discovered traces of a fatal although subtle poison."
+
+Again he paused. Frank made no reply. Even in the dim light it might
+be seen that her head sank slowly on her breast. Did the words of the
+stranger produce a strong impression? We cannot see her face, for the
+room is vailed in twilight.
+
+"This darkness grows embarrassing," he said, "will you ring for lights?"
+
+She replied with a monosyllable, uttered in a faint voice,--"No!" she
+said, then a dead stillness once more ensued, which continued until the
+stranger again spoke.
+
+"In regard to the lease, madam. Do you agree to sell, and upon the
+terms which I proposed when I was here last?"
+
+Again Frank replied with a monosyllable. "Yes!" she faintly said.
+
+"And the other proposition: to-night you hold some sort of festival
+in this place. I desire to know the names of all your guests; to
+introduce such guests as I choose within these walls; to have, for
+one night only, a certain control over the internal economy of this
+place. In case you consent to this proposition, I will pay you for the
+lease double the amount which I have already offered, and promise, on
+my honor, to do nothing within these walls to-night, which can in the
+slightest degree harm or compromise you."
+
+He stated his proposition slowly and deliberately. Frank took full time
+to ponder upon every word. Simple as the proposition looked, well she
+knew, that it might embrace results of the most important nature.
+
+"Must I consent?" she said, and her voice faltered. "It is hard--"
+
+"'Must' is no word in the case, madam," answered that stern even voice.
+"Use your own will and pleasure."
+
+"But the request is so strange," said Frank, "and suppose I grant it?
+Who can tell the consequences?"
+
+"It is singular," said the stranger as though thinking aloud, "to
+what an extent the art of poisoning was carried in the middle ages!
+The art has long been lost,--people poison each other bunglingly
+now-a-days,--although it is said, that the secret of a certain poison,
+which puts its victims quietly to sleep, leaving not the slighted
+tell-tale trace or mark, has survived even to the present day."
+
+Certainly the stranger had a most remarkable manner of thinking aloud.
+
+Frank spoke in a voice scarcely audible: "I consent to your
+proposition."
+
+She rose, and although it was rapidly getting quite dark, she unlocked
+a secret drawer of her desk, and drew from thence two packages.
+
+"This way, sir," she spoke in a low voice, and the stranger rose and
+approached her. "Here you will find the names of all my guests, and
+especially of those who will come here to-night. You will find such
+other information as may be useful to you and aid your purposes." She
+placed the package in his hand. "I will place Walker and the other
+servants under your command." She paused, and resumed after an instant,
+in a firmer voice: "If I have yielded to your request, it has not been
+altogether from fear,--"
+
+"Fear! Who spoke of fear?"
+
+"Don't mock me. I have yielded from fear, but not altogether from fear.
+I have nursed a hope that you can aid me to quit this thrice accursed
+life which I now lead. For though your polite manner only thinly vails
+insinuations the most deadly, yet I believe you have a heart. I feel
+that when you know all of my past life, _all_, you will think, I do not
+say better of me, but differently, from what you do now. Here, take
+this package,--it contains my history written by my own hand, and only
+intended to be read after my death--but you may read it now or at your
+leisure."
+
+The man in the cloak took the package; his voice trembled when he
+spoke--
+
+"Girl, you shall not regret this confidence. I will aid you to quit
+this accursed life."
+
+"Leave me for a few moments. I wish to sit alone and think for a little
+while. After that we will arrange matters in regard to the festival
+to-night."
+
+The stranger in the cloak left the room, bearing with him the two
+packages, one of which embraced the mysteries of the house of Frank,
+and the other contained the story of her life.
+
+And in the darkness, Frank walked up and down the room, pressing one
+clenched hand against her heaving bosom, and the other against her
+burning brow.
+
+Soon afterward, Frank and the stranger in the old-fashioned cloak, were
+closeted for half an hour in earnest conversation.
+
+We will not record the details of the conversation, but its results
+will perchance be seen in the future pages of our history.
+
+Here, at this point of our story, let us break the seals of the
+_second_ package which Frank gave to the stranger, and linger for a
+little while upon the pages of her history, written by her own hand. A
+strange history in every line! It is called The History of THE MIDNIGHT
+QUEEN!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE CHILDHOOD OF THE MIDNIGHT QUEEN.
+
+
+My childhood's home! O, is there in all the world a phrase so sweet as
+this, "My childhood's home!" Others may look back to childhood, and
+be stung by bitter memories, but my childhood was the heaven of my
+life. As from the hopeless present, I gaze back upon it, I seem like a
+traveler, half way up the Alps, surrounded by snow and clouds and mist,
+and looking back upon the happy valley, which, dotted with homes and
+rich in vines and flowers, smiles in the sunshine far below.
+
+My childhood's home was very beautiful. It was a two-story cottage,
+situated upon an eminence, its white front and rustic porch, half
+hidden by the horse-chesnut trees, which in the early summer had snowy
+blossoms among their deep green leaves. Behind the cottage arose a
+broad and swelling hill, which, fringed with gardens at its base, and
+crowned on its summit by a few grand old trees standing alone against
+the sky, was in summer-time clad along its entire extent with a garment
+of golden wheat. Beneath the cottage flowed the Neprehaun, a gentle
+rivulet, which wound among abrupt hills,--every hill rich in foliage
+and dotted with homes--until it lost itself in the waves of the Hudson.
+Yes, the Hudson was there, grand and beautiful and visible always from
+the cottage porch; the Palisades rising from its opposite shore into
+heaven, and the broad bay of Tapaan Zee glistening in sunlight to the
+north.
+
+O, that scene is before me now--the cottage with its white front, half
+hidden by broad green leaves intermingled with white blossoms,--the
+hill, which rose behind it, golden with wheat,--the Neprehaun below,
+winding among the hills, now in sunshine, now in shadow,--the Hudson,
+with its vast bay and the somber wall which rose into the sky from its
+western shore,--it is before me now, with the spring blossoms, the
+voices, the sky, the very air of my childhood's days.
+
+In this home I found myself at the age of thirteen. I was the pupil
+and the charge of the occupant of the cottage, a retired clergyman,
+the Rev. Thomas Walworth, who having grown gray in the active service
+of his Master, had come there to pass his last days in the enjoyment
+of competence and peace. Even now, as on the day when I left him
+forever, I can see his tall form, bent with age and clad in black, his
+mild, pale face, with hair as white as snow,--I can hear that voice,
+whose very music was made up of the goodness of a heart at peace with
+God and man. When I was thirteen, myself, the good clergyman, and an
+aged woman--the housekeeper--were the only occupants of the cottage.
+His only son was away at college. And when I was thirteen, my mother,
+who had placed me in the care of the clergyman years before, came
+to see me. I shall never forget that visit. I was sitting on the
+cottage porch--it was a June day--the air was rich with fragrance
+and blossoms--my book was on my knee--when I heard her step in the
+garden-walk. She was tall and very beautiful, and richly clad in
+black, and her dark attire shone with diamonds. Very beautiful, I
+say, although there were threads of silver in her brown hair, and an
+incessant contraction of her dark brows, which gave a look of anxiety
+or pain to her face.
+
+As she came up the garden-walk, pushing aside her vail of dark lace, I
+knew her, although I had not seen her for three years. Her presence was
+strange to me, yet still my heart bounded as I saw her come.
+
+"Well, Frank," she said, as though it was but yesterday since I had
+seen her, "I have come to see you,"--she kissed me warmly on the lips
+and cheeks.--"Your father is dead, my child."
+
+A tear stood in her dark eye, a slight tremor moved her lip--that was
+all. My father dead! I can scarcely describe the emotions which these
+words caused. I had not seen my father for years. There was still a
+memory of his face present with me, coupled with an indistinct memory
+of my early childhood, passed in a city of a foreign land, and a dim
+vision of a voyage upon the ocean. And at my mother's words there came
+up the laughing face and sunny hair of my brother Gulian, who had
+suddenly disappeared about the time my parents returned from Paris,
+and just before I had been placed in the charge of the good clergyman.
+These mingling memories arose at my mother's words, and although the
+good clergyman stood more to me in the relation of a father than my own
+father, still I wept bitterly as I heard the words, "Your father is
+dead, my child."
+
+My mother, who seemed to me like one of those grand, rich ladies of
+whom I had read in story-books, seated herself beside me on the cottage
+porch.
+
+"You are getting quite beautiful, Frank," she said, and lifted my
+sun-bonnet and put her hand through the curls of my hair, which was
+black as jet. "You will be a woman soon." She kissed me, and then
+as she turned away, I heard her mutter these words which struck me
+painfully although then I could not understand them: "A woman! with
+your mother's beauty for your dowry and your mother's fate for your
+future!"
+
+The slight wrinkle between her brows grew deeper as she said these
+words.
+
+"You will be a woman, and must have an education suitable to the
+station you will occupy," continued my mother, drawing me quietly to
+her, and surveying me earnestly. "Now what do _they_ teach you here?"
+
+She laughed as I gravely related the part which good old Alice--the
+housekeeper--took in my education. Old Alice taught me all the details
+of housekeeping; to sow, to knit, the fabrication of good pies, good
+butter, and good bread; the mystery of the preparation of various
+kinds of preserves; in fact, all the details of housekeeping as she
+understood it. And the good old dame, with her high cap, clear, bright
+little eyes, sharp nose, and white apron strung with a bundle of keys,
+always concluded her lesson with a mysterious intimation that, saving
+the good Mr. Walworth only, all the men in the world were monsters,
+more dangerous than the bears which ate up the bad children who mocked
+at Elijah.
+
+Laughing heartily as she heard me gravely enter into all these details,
+which I concluded with, "You see, mother, I'm quite a housekeeper
+already!" she continued:
+
+"And what does _he_ teach you, my dear?"
+
+The laughter which animated her face, was succeeded by a look of vague
+curiosity as I began my answer. But as I went on, her face became sad
+and there were tears in her eyes.
+
+My father (as I had learned to call the good clergyman) taught me to
+read, to write, and to cipher. He gradually disclosed to me (more by
+his conversation than through the medium of books) the history of
+past ages, the wonders of the heavens above me, the properties of the
+plants and flowers that grew in my path. And oftentimes by the bright
+wood-fire in winter, or upon the porch under the boughs, in the rich
+twilight of the summer scenery--while the stars twinkled through the
+leaves, or the Hudson glistened in the light of the rising moon--he
+had talked to me of GOD. Of his love for all of us, his providence
+watching the sparrow's fall, his mercy reaching forth its almighty
+arms to the lowest of earth's stricken children. Of the other world,
+which stretches beyond the shores of the present, not dim and
+cloud-shadowed, but rich in the sunlight of eternal love, and living
+with the realities of a state of being in which there shall be no more
+sickness nor pain, and tears shall be wiped from every eye, and all
+things be made new.
+
+Of the holy mother watching over her holy child, while the stars shone
+in upon his humble bed in the manger,--of that child, in early boyhood,
+sitting in the temple confounding grave men, learned in the logic of
+the world, by the simple intuitions of a heart felled with the presence
+of God,--of the way of life led by that mother's child, when thirty
+years had set the seal of the divine manhood on his brow. How after the
+day's hard travel, he stopped to rest at the cottage home of Martha
+and Mary,--how he took up little children and blessed them,--how the
+blind began to see, the deaf to hear, the dead to live, at sound of
+his voice,--how on the calm of evening, in a modest room, he took his
+last supper with the Twelve, John resting on his bosom, Judas scowling
+in the background,--how, amid the olives of Gethsemane, at dead of
+night, while his disciples slept, he went through the unutterable
+agony alone until an angel's hand wiped the sweat of blood from his
+brow,--how he died upon the felon's tree, the heavens black above him,
+the earth beneath him dark with the vast multitude,--and how, on the
+clear Sabbath morn he rose again, and called the faithful woman, who
+had followed him to the sepulcher, by the name which his mother bore,
+spoken in the old familiar tone--"Mary!" How he walked the earth in
+bodily form eighteen hundred years ago, shedding the presence of God
+around him, and even now he walked it still in spiritual body, shedding
+still upon sin-stricken and sorrowing hearts the presence and the
+love of God the Father. Lessons such as these, the good clergyman, my
+father (as I called him) taught me, instructing me always to do good
+and lead a life free from sin, not from fear of damnation or hell, but
+because goodness is _growth_, a _good life_ is _happiness_. A flower
+shut out from the light is _damned_: it cannot _grow_. An _evil life_
+here or hereafter is in itself _damnation_; for it is _want of growth_,
+paralysis or decay of all the nobler faculties.
+
+As in my own way, and with such words as I could command, I recounted
+the manner in which the good clergyman educated me, my mother's face
+grew sad and tearful. She did not speak for some minutes; her gaze was
+downcast, and through her long dark eyelashes the tears began to steal.
+
+"A dream," she muttered, "only a dream! Did he know mankind and
+know but a portion of their unfathomable baseness, he would see the
+impossibility of making them better, would feel the necessity of an
+actual hell, black as the darkest that a poet ever fancied."
+
+As she was thus occupied in her own thoughts, a step--a well-known
+step--resounded on the garden-walk, and the good clergyman advanced
+from the wicket-gate to the porch. Even now I see that pale face, with
+the white hair and large clear eyes!
+
+He advanced and took my mother cordially by the hand, and was much
+affected when he heard of my father's death. My mother thanked him
+warmly for the care which he had taken of her child.
+
+"This child will be a woman soon, and she must be prepared to enter
+upon life with all the accomplishments suitable to the position which
+she will occupy," continued my mother; "I wish her to remain with you
+until she is ready to enter the great world. But she must have proper
+instruction in music and dancing. She must not be altogether a wild
+country girl, when she goes into society. But, however, my dear Mr.
+Walworth, we will talk of this alone."
+
+Young as I was I could perceive that there was a mystery about my
+mother, her previous life, or present position, which the good
+clergyman did not feel himself called upon to penetrate.
+
+She took his arm and led him into the cottage, and they conversed for a
+long time alone, while I remained upon the porch, buried in a sort of
+dreamy revery, and watching the white clouds as they sailed along the
+summer sky.
+
+"I shall be absent two years," I heard my mother's voice, as leaning on
+the good clergyman's arm she again came forth upon the porch; "see that
+when I return, in place of this pretty child you will present to me a
+beautiful and accomplished lady."
+
+She took me in her arms and kissed me, while Mr. Walworth exclaimed:
+
+"Indeed, my dear madam, I can never allow myself to think of Frances'
+leaving this home while I am living. She has been with me so long--is
+so dear to me--that the very thought of parting with her, is like
+tearing my heart-strings!"
+
+He spoke with undisguised emotion; my mother took him warmly by the
+hand, and again thanked him for the care and love which he had lavished
+on her child.
+
+At length she said "Farewell!" and I watched her as she went down the
+garden-walk to the wicket gate, and then across the road, until she
+entered a by-path which wound among the hills of the Neprehaun into the
+valley below. She was lost to my sight in the shadows of the foliage.
+She emerged to view again far down the valley, and I saw her enter her
+grand carriage, and saw her kerchief waving from the carriage window,
+as it rolled away.
+
+I watched, O! how earnestly I watched, until the carriage rose to
+sight on the summit of a distant hill, beyond the spire of the village
+church. Then, as it disappeared and bore my mother from my sight, I sat
+down and wept bitterly.
+
+Would I had never seen her face again!
+
+A year passed away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+MAIDENHOOD.
+
+
+It was June again. One summer evening I took the path which led from
+the garden to the summit of the hill which rose behind the cottage.
+As I pursued my way upward the sun was setting, and at every step I
+obtained a broader glimpse of the river, the dark Palisades, and the
+bay white with sails. When I reached the summit, the sun was on the
+verge of the horizon, and the sky in the west all purple and gold.
+Seating myself on the huge rock, which rose on the summit, surrounded
+by a circle of grand old trees, I surrendered myself to the quiet
+and serenity of the evening hour. The view was altogether beautiful.
+Beneath me sloped the broad hills, clad in wheat which already was
+changing from emerald to gold. Farther down, my cottage home half
+hidden among trees. Then beneath the cottage, the homes of the village
+dotting the hills, among which wound the Neprehaun. The broad river
+and the wide bay heaving gently in the fading light, and the dark
+Palisades rising blackly against the gold and purple sky. A lovelier
+view cannot be imagined. And the air was full of summer--scented with
+breath of vines and blossoms and new-mown hay. As I surrendered myself
+to thoughts which arose unbidden, the first star came tremulously into
+view, and the twilight began to deepen into night. I was thinking of my
+life--of the past--of the future. A strange vision of the great world,
+struggled into dim shape before the eye of my mind.
+
+"A year more, and I will enter the great world!" I ejaculated. A hand
+was laid lightly on my shoulder. I started to my feet with a shriek.
+
+"What, Frank, don't you know me?" said a half laughing voice, and I
+beheld beside me a youth of some nineteen or twenty years, whose face,
+shaded by dark hair, was touched by the last flush of the declining
+day. It was Ernest, the only son of the good clergyman. I had not seen
+him for three years. In that time, he had grown from boyhood into young
+manhood. He sat beside me on the rock, and we talked together as freely
+as when we were but little children. Ernest was full of life and hope;
+his voice grew deep, his dark eyes large and lustrous, as he spoke of
+the prospects of his future.
+
+"In one year, Frank, I will graduate and then,--then,--the great world
+lies before me!" His gaze was turned dreamily to the west, and his fine
+features drawn in distinct profile against the evening sky.
+
+"And what part, Ernest, will you play in the great world?"
+
+"Father wishes me to enter into the ministry, but,--" and he uttered
+a joyous, confident laugh,--"whatever part I play, I know that I will
+win!"
+
+He uttered these words in the tone of youth and hope, that has never
+been darkened by a shadow, and then turning to me,--
+
+"And you, Frank, what part will you play in the great world?" he said.
+
+"I know not. My career is in the hands of my only parent, who will
+come next year to take me hence. My childhood has been wrapped in
+mystery; and my future, O, who can foretell the future?"
+
+He gazed at me, for the first time, with an earnest and searching gaze.
+His eyes, large and gray, and capable of the most varied expression,
+became absent and dreamy.
+
+"You are very beautiful!" he said, as though thinking aloud,--"O, very
+beautiful! You will marry rich,--yes,--wealth and position will be
+yours at once."
+
+And as the moon, rising over the brow of the hill, poured her light
+upon his thoughtful face, he took my hand and said:
+
+"Frank, why is it that certain natures live only in the future or
+the past--never in the present? Look at ourselves, for instance.
+Yonder among the trees, bathed in the light of the rising moon, lies
+the cottage home in which we have passed the happiest, holiest hours
+of life. Of that home we are not thinking now--we are only looking
+forward to the future--and yet the time will come, when immersed in the
+conflict of the world, we will look back to that home, with the same
+yearning that one, stretched upon the couch of hopeless disease, looks
+forward to his grave!"
+
+His voice was low and solemn--I never forgot his words. We sat for
+many minutes in silence. At length without a word, he took my hand,
+and we went down the hill together, by the light of the rising moon.
+We climbed the stile, passed under the garden boughs, and entered the
+cottage, and found the good old man seated in his library among his
+books. He raised his eyes as we came in, hand joined in hand, and a
+look of undisguised pleasure stole over his face.
+
+"See here, father," said Ernest laughingly, "when I went to college, I
+left my little sister in your care. I now return, and discover that my
+little sister has disappeared, and left in her place this wild girl,
+whom I found wandering to-night among the hills. Don't you think there
+is something like a witch in her eyes?"
+
+The old man smiled and laid his hand on my dark hair.
+
+"Would to heaven!" he said, "that she might never leave this quiet
+home." And the prayer came from his heart.
+
+Ernest remained with us until fall. Those were happy days. We read,
+we talked, we walked, we lived with each other. More like sister and
+sister than brother and sister, we wandered arm-in-arm to the brow of
+the hill as the rich summer evening came on,--or crossed the river in
+early morning, and climbed the winding road that led to the brow of
+the Palisades,--or sat, at night, under the trees by the river's bank,
+watching the stars as they looked down into the calm water. Sometimes
+at night, we sat in the library, and I read while the old man's hand
+rested gently on my head and Ernest sat by my side. And often upon the
+porch, as the summer night wore on, Ernest and myself sang together
+some old familiar hymn, while "Father" listened in quiet delight. Thus
+three months passed away, and Ernest left for college.
+
+"Next year, Frank, I graduate," he cried, his thoughtful face flushed
+with hope, and his gray eyes full of joyous light--"and then for the
+battle with the world!"
+
+He left, and the cottage seemed blank and desolate. The good clergyman
+felt his absence most keenly.
+
+"Well, well," he would mutter, "a year is soon round and then Ernest
+will be with us again!"
+
+As for myself, I tried my books, my harp, took long walks alone, busied
+myself in household cares, but I could not reconcile myself to the
+absence of Ernest.
+
+Winter came, and one night a letter arrived from Ernest to his
+father, and in that letter one for--Frank! How eagerly I took it from
+"father's" hand and hurried to my room,--that room which I remember yet
+so vividly, with its window opening on the garden, and the picture of
+the Virgin Mary on the snow-white wall. Unmindful of the cold, I sat
+down alone and perused the letter, O, how eagerly! It was a letter from
+a brother to a sister, and yet beneath the calm current of a brother's
+love, there flowed a deeper and a warmer love. How joyously he spoke of
+his future, and how strangely he seemed to mingle my name with every
+image of that future! I read his letter over and over, and slept with
+it upon my bosom; and I dreamed, O! such air-castle dreams, in which
+a whole lifetime seemed to pass away, while Ernest and Frank, always
+young, always happy, went wandering, hand-in-hand, under skies without
+a cloud. But I awoke in fright and terror. It seemed to me that a cold
+hand--like the hand of a corpse--was laid upon my bosom, and somehow
+I thought that my mother was dead and that it was her hand. I started
+up in fright and tears, and lay shuddering until the rising sun shone
+gayly through the frosted window-pane.
+
+Another year had nearly passed away.
+
+It was June again, and it was toward evening that I stood upon the
+cottage porch watching--not the cloudless sky and glorious river bathed
+in the setting sun--but watching earnestly for the sound of a footstep.
+Ernest was expected home. He had graduated with all the honors--he
+was coming home! How I watched and waited for that welcome step! At
+last the wicket-gate was opened, and Ernest's step resounded on the
+garden-walk. Concealing myself among the vines which covered one of
+the pillars of the porch, I watched him as he approached, determining
+to burst upon him in a glad surprise as soon as he reached the steps.
+His head was downcast, he walked with slow and thoughtful steps; his
+long black hair fell wild and tangled on his shoulders. The joyous
+hue of youth on his cheek had been replaced by the pallor of long and
+painful thought. The hopeful boy of the last year had been changed into
+the moody and ambitious man! As he came on, although my heart swelled
+to bursting at sight of him, I felt awed and troubled, and forgot my
+original intention of bursting upon him in a merry surprise. He reached
+the porch--he ascended the step--and I glided silently from behind the
+pillar and confronted him. O, how his face lighted up as he saw me! His
+eyes, no longer glassy and abstracted, were radiant with a delight too
+deep for words!
+
+"Frank!" he said, and silently pressed my hand.
+
+"Ernest," was all I could reply, and we stood in silence--both
+trembling, agitated--and gazing into each other's eyes.
+
+The good Clergyman was happy that evening, as he sat at the supper
+table, with Frank on one hand and Ernest on the other. And old Alice
+peering at us through her spectacles could not help remarking, "Well,
+well, only yesterday children, and now such a handsome _couple_!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+ON THE ROCK.
+
+
+After supper, Ernest and I went to the rock on the summit of the hill,
+where we had met the year before. The scene was the same,--the river,
+the bay, the dark Palisades, and the vast sky illumined by the rising
+moon,--but somehow we seemed changed. We sat apart from each other on
+the rock, and sat for a long time in silence. Ernest, with downcast
+eyes, picked in an absent way at some flowers which grew in the
+crevices of the rock. And I,--well I believe I tied the strings of my
+sun-bonnet into all sorts of knots. I felt half disposed to laugh and
+half disposed to cry.
+
+At last I broke the silence:--
+
+"You have fulfilled your words, Ernest," I said, "You have graduated
+with all the honors--as last year you said you would,--and now a bright
+career stretches before you. You will go forth into the great world,
+you will battle, you will win!"
+
+"Frank," said he, stretching forth his hand,--"Do you see yonder river
+as it flows broad and rapid, in the light of the rising moon? You speak
+of a bright career before me--now I almost wish that I was quietly
+asleep beneath those waves."
+
+The sadness of his tone and look went to my heart.
+
+"You surprise me, Frank. Now,"--and I attempted a laugh--"You have not
+fallen in love, since last year, have you?"
+
+He looked up and surveyed me from head to foot. I was dressed in
+white--my hair fell in loose curls to my shoulders. In a year I had
+passed from the girl into the woman. I was taller, my form more roundly
+developed. And as he gazed upon me, I was conscious that he was
+remarking the change which had taken place in my appearance, and that
+his look was one of ardent admiration.
+
+"Do _you_ think that I have fallen in love _since_ last year?" he said
+slowly and with a meaning look.
+
+I turned away from his gaze, and exclaimed--
+
+"But you are moody, Ernest. Last year you were so hopeful--now so
+melancholy. You _can_, you will succeed in life."
+
+"That I can meet with what the world calls success, I do not doubt,"
+he replied: "There is the career of the popular preacher, armed with a
+white handkerchief and a velvet Gospel,--of the lawyer, growing rich
+with the rent paid to him by crime, and devoting all the powers of his
+immortal soul to prove that black is white and white is black--of the
+merchant, who sees only these words painted upon the face of God's
+universe, 'Buy cheap and sell dear,'--careers such as these, Frank,
+are before me, and I am free to choose, and doubt not but that I could
+succeed in any of them. But to achieve such success I would not spend,
+I do not say the labor of years--No,--I would not spend the thought of
+a single hour."
+
+"But the life of a good Minister of the Gospel, Ernest, living in some
+quiet country town, dividing his time between his parishioners and his
+books, and dwelling in a home like the cottage yonder--what say you to
+such a life, Ernest?"
+
+He raised his eyes, and again surveyed me earnestly--"Ambitious as I
+am, I would sacrifice every thought of ambition for a life such as you
+picture--but upon one condition,"--he paused--
+
+"And that condition?" I said in a low voice.
+
+"Ask your own heart," was his reply, uttered in a tremulous voice.
+
+I felt my bosom heave,--was agitated, trembling I knew not why,--but I
+made no answer.
+
+There was a long and painful pause.
+
+"The night is getting chill," I said at length, for want of something
+better to say: "Father is waiting for us. Let us go home."
+
+I led the way down the path, and he followed moodily, without a word.
+As he helped me over the stile I saw that his face was pale, his lips
+tightly compressed. And when we came into the presence of his Father,
+he replied to the old man's kind questions, in a vacant and abstracted
+manner. I bade him "good night!" at last; he answered me, but added in
+a lower tone, inaudible to the old man, "Young and rich and beautiful,
+you are beyond the reach of--a _country clergyman_."
+
+The next morning while we were at breakfast, a letter came. It was from
+my mother. To-morrow she would come and take me from the cottage!
+
+The letter dropped from the old man's hand, and Ernest rising abruptly
+from the table, rushed from the room.
+
+And I was to leave the home of my happiest hours, and go forth into the
+great world! The thought fell like a thunderbolt upon every heart in
+the cottage.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+AMONG THE PALISADES.
+
+
+After an hour Ernest met me on the porch; he was very pale.
+
+"Frank," said he, kindly, "To-morrow you will leave us forever. Would
+you not like to see once more the place yonder,"--he pointed across
+the river to the Palisades--"where we spent so many happy hours last
+summer?"
+
+He spoke of that dear nook, high up among the rocks, encircled by
+trees, and canopied by vines, where, we had indeed spent many a happy
+hour.
+
+I made no reply, but put on my sun-bonnet and took his arm, and in a
+little while we were crossing the river, he rowing, while I sat in the
+stern. It was a beautiful day. We arrived at the opposite shore, at
+a point where the perpendicular wall of the Palisades, is for a mile
+or more, broken by a huge and sloping hill, covered with giant forest
+trees. Together we took the serpentine path, which, winding toward all
+points of the compass, led to the top of the Palisades. The birds were
+singing, the broad forest leaves and hanging vines quivered in the sun,
+the air was balmy, and the day the very embodiment of the freshness
+and fragrance of June. As we wound up the road (whose brown graveled
+surface contrasted with the foliage), we saw the sunlight streaming
+in upon the deep shadows of the wood, and heard from afar the lulling
+music of a waterfall. Departing from the beaten road, we wandered among
+the forest trees, and talked together as gladly and as familiarly as
+in other days. There we wandered for hours, now in sunlight, now in
+shadow, now resting upon the brow of some moss-covered rock, and now
+stopping beside a spring of clear cold water, half hidden by thick
+green leaves. As noon drew near, we ascended to the top of the forest
+hill, and passing through a wilderness of tangled vines, came suddenly
+upon a rude farmhouse, one story high, built of logs, whose dark
+surface contrasted with the verdure of the garden and the foliage of
+the overshadowing tree. It was the same as in the year before. There
+was the well-pole rising above its roof and the well-bucket moist with
+clear cold water, and in the doorway stood the farmer's dame, who had
+often welcomed us to her quiet home.
+
+"Bless me! how handsome my children have grown!" she cried, "and how's
+the good Domine? Come in, come in; the folks are all away in the
+fields; come in and rest you, and have some pie and milk, and"--she
+paused for breath--"and some dinner."
+
+The good dame would take no denial, and we sat down to dinner with
+her--I can see the scene before me now--the carefully sanded floor, the
+old clock in the corner, the cupboard glistering with the burnished
+pewter, the neatly spread table, the broad hearth, covered with green
+boughs, and the open windows, with the sunbeams playing through the
+encircling vines. And then the good dame with her high cap, round,
+good-humored face, and spectacles resting on the bridge of her hooked
+nose. As we broke the home-made bread with her, we were as gay as larks.
+
+"Well, I do like to see young folks enjoy themselves," said the
+dame.--"You don't know how often I've thought of you since you were
+here last summer. I have said, and I will say it, that a handsomer
+brother and sister I never yet did see."
+
+"But you mistake," said Ernest, "We're not brother and sister."
+
+"Only cousins," responded the dame, surveying us attentively, "Well,
+I'm glad of it, for there's no law ag'in cousins marryin', and you'd
+make such a handsome couple." And she laughed until her sides shook.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+IN THE FOREST NOOK.
+
+
+Leaving the farmhouse, we bent our way to the Palisades again. We
+had been gay and happy all the morning, now we became thoughtful. We
+entered a narrow path, and presently came upon the dear nook where we
+had spent so many happy hours. It was a quiet space of green-sward
+and velvet moss, encircled on all sides, save one, by the trunks of
+giant forest trees--the oak, the tulip poplar and the sycamore--which
+arose like rugged columns, their branches forming a roof far overhead.
+Half-way between the sward and the branches, hung a drapery of vines,
+swinging in the sunlight, and showering blossoms and fragrance on the
+summer air. Light shrubbery grew between the massive trunks of the
+trees, and in one part of the glade a huge rock arose, its summit
+projecting over the sward, and forming a sort of canopy or shelter for
+a rustic seat fashioned of oaken boughs. Looking upward through the
+drapery of vines and the roof of boughs, only one glimpse of blue sky
+was visible. Toward the east the glade was open, and over the tops of
+the forest trees (which rose from the glen beneath), you saw the river,
+the distant village and my cottage home shining in the sun. At the
+foot of the oak which formed one of the portals of the glade, was a
+clear cold spring, resting in a basin of rock, and framed in leaves and
+flowers. Altogether the dear nook of the forest was worthy of June.
+
+For a moment we surveyed this quiet scene--thought of the many happy
+hours we had spent there in the previous summer--and then turning our
+faces to the east, we stood, hand link'd in hand, gazing over forest
+trees and river upon our far-off cottage home.
+
+"Does it not look beautiful, as it shines there in the sun?"--I said.
+
+Ernest at first did not reply, but turned his gaze full upon me. His
+face was flushed and there was a strange fire in his eyes.
+
+"To-morrow you leave that home forever," he exclaimed, and I trembled,
+I knew not why at the sound of his voice--"I will never see you
+again--I--" he dropped my hand and turned his face away. I saw his
+head fall on his breast, and saw that breast heave with agitation;
+urged by an impulse I could not control, I glided to his side, put my
+hand upon his arm, and looked up into his face.
+
+"Ernest," I whispered.
+
+He turned to me, for a moment regarded me with a look of intense
+passion and then caught me to his heart. His arms were around me, my
+bosom heaved against his breast, his kiss was on my lips--the first
+kiss since childhood, and O, how different from the kiss which a
+brother presses on a sister's lips!
+
+"Frank I love you! Many beautiful women have I seen, but there is that
+in your gaze, your voice, your very presence, which is Heaven itself
+to me. I cannot live without you! and cannot, cannot think of losing
+you without madness. Frank, be mine, be my wife! Be mine, and the home
+which shines yonder in the sunlight shall be ours! Frank, for God's
+sake say you love me!"
+
+He sank at my feet and clasped my knees with his trembling hands. O the
+joy, the rapture of that moment! As I saw his face upraised to mine,
+I felt that I loved him with all my soul, that I could die for him.
+Reaching forth my hands I drew him gently to his feet, and fell upon
+his breast and called him, "Husband!" Would I had died there, on his
+bosom, even as his lips met mine, and the words "my wife!" trembled on
+my ear! Would I had at that moment fallen dead upon his breast!
+
+Even as he gathered me to his bosom the air all at once grew dark;
+looking overhead, we saw a vast cloud rolling up the heavens, dark
+as midnight, yet fringed with sunlight. On and on it rolled, the air
+grew darker, darker, an ominous thunder-peal broke over our heads,
+and rolled away among the gorges of the hills. Then the clouds grew
+dark as night. We could not see each other's faces. For a moment our
+distant home shone in sunlight, and then the eastern sky was wrapt
+in clouds, the river hidden by driving rain. Trembling with fright I
+clung to Ernest's neck--he bore me to the beech in the shadow of the
+rock--another thunder peal and a flash of lightning that blinded me. I
+buried my face in his bosom, to hide my eyes from that awful glare. The
+tempest which had arisen so suddenly--even as we exchanged our first
+vows--was now upon us and in power. The trees rocked to the blast. The
+distant river was now dark and now one mass of sheeted flame. Peal on
+peal the thunder burst over our heads, and as one peal died away in
+distant echoes, another more awful seemed hurled upon us, from the very
+zenith. And amid the darkness and glare of that awful storm, I clung to
+Ernest's neck, my bosom beating against his heart, and we repeated our
+vows, and talked of our marriage, and laid plans for our future.
+
+"Frank, my heart is filled with an awful foreboding," he said, and his
+voice was so changed and husky, that I raised my head from his bosom,
+and even in the darkness sought to gaze upon his face. A lightning
+flash came and was gone, but by that momentary glare, I saw his
+countenance agitated in every lineament.
+
+"What mean you Ernest?"
+
+"You will leave our home to-morrow and never return, never! The
+sunshine which was upon us, as we exchanged our vows, was in a moment
+succeeded by the blackness of the awful tempest. A bad omen, Frank, a
+dark prophecy of our future. There is only one way to turn the omen of
+evil, into a prophecy of good."
+
+He drew me close in his arms, and bent his lips to my ear--"Be mine,
+and now! be mine! Let the thunder-peal be our marriage music, this
+forest glade our marriage couch!"
+
+I was faint, trembling, but I sprang from his arms, and stood erect in
+the center of the glade. My dark hair fell to my shoulders; a flash of
+lightning lit up my form, clad in snow-white. As wildly, as completely
+as I loved him, I felt my eyes flash with indignation.
+
+"Words like these to a girl who has been reared under your father's
+roof!"
+
+He fell at my feet, besought my forgiveness in frantic tones, and
+bathed my hands with his tears.
+
+I fainted in his arms.
+
+When I unclosed my eyes again, I found myself pure and virgin in the
+arms of my plighted husband. The clouds were parting, the tempest was
+over, and the sun shone out once more. Every leaf glittered with
+diamond drops. The last blast of the storm was passing over the distant
+river, and through the driving clouds, I saw the sunlight shining once
+more upon our cottage home.
+
+"Forgive me, Frank, forgive me," he cried, bending passionately
+over me. "See! Your bad omen has been turned into good!" I cried
+joyfully--"First the sunshine, then the storm, but now the sun shines
+clear again;" and I pointed to the diamond drops glittering in the sun.
+
+"And you will be true to me, Frank?"
+
+"Before heaven I promise it, in life, in death, forever!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+HOME, ADIEU!
+
+
+It was toward the close of the afternoon that we took our way from the
+glade through the forest to the river shore. We crossed the river, and
+passed through the village. Together we ascended the road that led
+to our home, and at the wicket-gate, found a splendid carriage with
+liveried servants.
+
+The good clergyman stood at the gate, his bared forehead and white
+hairs bathed in the sunshine; beside him, darkly dressed, diamonds upon
+her rich attire, my mother. Old Alice stood weeping in the background.
+
+"Come, Frank, your things are packed and we must be away," she said,
+abruptly, as though we had seen each other only the day before; "I wish
+to reach our home in New York, before night. Go in the house dear," she
+kissed me, "and get your bonnet and shawl. Quick my love!"
+
+Not daring to trust myself to speak--for my heart was full to
+bursting--I hurried through the gate, and along the garden walk.
+
+"How beautiful she has grown!" I heard my mother exclaim. One look into
+the old familiar library room, one moment in prayer by the bed, in
+which I had slept since childhood!
+
+Placing the bonnet on my curls, and dropping my shawl around me, I
+hurried from my cottage home. There were a few moments of agony, of
+blessings, of partings and tears. Old Alice pressed me in her arms, and
+bid me good-by. The good old clergyman laid his hands upon my head, and
+lifting his beaming eyes to heaven, invoked the blessing of God upon my
+head.
+
+"I give your child to you again!" he said, placing me in my mother's
+arms--"May she be a blessing to you, as for years past she has been the
+blessing and peace of my home!"
+
+I looked around for Ernest; he had disappeared.
+
+I entered the carriage, and sank sobbing on the seat.
+
+"But I am not taking the dear child away from you forever," said my
+mother, bending from the carriage window. "She will come and see you
+often, my dear Mr. Walworth, and you will come and see her. You have
+the number of our town residence on that card. And bring your son, and
+good Alice with you, and,----"
+
+The carriage rolled away.
+
+So strange and unexpected had been the circumstances of this departure
+from my home, that I could scarce believe myself awake.
+
+I did not raise my head, until we had descended the hill, passed the
+village and gained a mile or more on our way.
+
+We were ascending a long slope, which led to the summit of a hill, from
+which, I knew, I might take a last view of my childhood's home.
+
+As we reached the summit of the hill, my mother was looking out of one
+window toward the river, and I looked out of the other, and saw, beyond
+the church spire and over the hills, the white walls of my home.
+
+"Frank!" whispered a low voice.
+
+Ernest was by the carriage. There was a look exchanged, a word, and he
+was gone. Gone into the trees by the? roadside.
+
+He left a flower in my hand. I placed it silently in my bosom.
+
+"Frank! How beautiful you have grown!" said my mother, turning from the
+window, and fixing upon me an ardent and admiring gaze. And the next
+moment she was wrapt in thought and the wrinkle grew deeper between her
+brows.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+ERNEST AND HIS SINGULAR ADVENTURE.
+
+
+Before I resume my own history, I must relate an instance in the
+life of Ernest, which had an important bearing on his fate. (This
+incident I derive from MSS. written by Ernest himself.) Soon after my
+departure from the cottage home, he came to New York with his father,
+and they directed their steps to my mother's residence; as indicated
+on the card which she had left with the clergyman; but to their great
+disappointment, they discovered that my mother and myself had just left
+town for Niagara Falls. Six months afterward, Ernest received a long
+letter from me, concluding with these words: "_To-morrow, myself and
+mother take passage for Europe, in the steamer. We will be absent for a
+year or more._"
+
+Determined to see me at all hazards, he hurried to town, but, too
+late! The steamer had sailed; her flag fluttered in the air, far down
+the bay, as standing on the battery, Ernest followed her course, with
+an almost maddened gaze. Sorrowfully he returned to the country and
+informed his father of my sudden departure for Europe.
+
+"Can she have forgotten us?" said the old man.
+
+"O, father, this letter," replied Ernest, showing the long letter which
+I had written, "this will show you that she has not forgotten us, but
+that her heart beats warmly as ever--that she is the same."
+
+And he read the letter to the good old man, who frequently interrupted
+him, with "God bless her! God bless my child!"
+
+Soon afterward Ernest came to New York and entered his name in
+the office of an eminent lawyer. Determining to make the law his
+profession, he hoped to complete his studies before my return from
+Paris. He lived in New York, and began to move in the circles of its
+varied society. Among the acquaintances which he made were certain
+authors and artists who, once a month, in company with a few select
+friends, gave a social supper at a prominent hotel.
+
+At one of these suppers Ernest was a guest. The wine passed round, wit
+sparkled, and the enjoyment of the festival did not begin to flag even
+when midnight drew near.
+
+While one of the guests was singing, a portly gentleman (once well
+known as a man of fashion, the very Brummel of the sidewalk) began to
+converse with Ernest in a low voice.
+
+He described a lady--a young widow with a large fortune--who at that
+time occupied a large portion of the interest of certain circles in
+New York. She was exceedingly beautiful. She was witty, accomplished,
+eloquent. She rivaled in fascination Ninon and Aspasia. Nightly, to
+a select circle, she presided over festivals whose voluptuousness
+was masked in flowers. Her previous history was unknown, but she had
+suddenly entered the orbit of New York social life--of a peculiar kind
+of social life--as a star of the first magnitude. His blood heated by
+wine, his imagination warmed by the description of his fashionable
+friend, Ernest manifested great curiosity to behold this singular lady.
+
+"You shall see her to-night--at once," whispered the fashionable
+gentleman. "She gives a select party to-night. Let us glide off from
+the company unobserved."
+
+They passed from the company, took their hats and cloaks--it was a
+clear, cold winter night--and entered a carriage.
+
+"I will introduce you by the name of Johnson--Fred. Johnson, a rich
+southern planter," said the fashionable gentleman. "You need not call
+me by my real name. Call me Lawson."
+
+"But why this concealment?" asked Ernest, as the carriage rolled on.
+
+"O, well, never mind," added Lawson (as he desired to be called), and
+then continued: "We'll soon be near her mansion, or _palace_ is the
+more appropriate word. We will find some of the first gentlemen and
+finest ladies of New York under her roof. I tell you, she'll set you
+half wild, this 'Midnight Queen!'"
+
+"Midnight Queen!" echoed Ernest.
+
+"That's what we call her. A 'Midnight Queen' indeed, as mysterious and
+voluptuous as the midnight moon shining in an Italian sky."
+
+They arrived in front of a lofty mansion, situated in one of the most
+aristocratic parts of New York. Its exterior was dark and silent as the
+winter midnight itself.
+
+"A light hid under a bushel--outside dark enough, but inside bright as
+a new dollar," whispered Lawson, ascending the marble steps and ringing
+the bell.
+
+The door was opened for the space of six inches or more,--
+
+"Who's there?" said a voice from within.
+
+Lawson bent his face near to the aperture and whispered a few words
+inaudible to Ernest. The door was opened wide, and carefully closed and
+bolted behind them, as soon as they crossed the threshold. They stood
+in a vast hall lighted by a hanging lamp.
+
+"Leave hats and cloaks here--and come." Lawson took Ernest by the hand
+and pushed open a door.
+
+They entered a range of parlors, brilliantly lighted by two
+chandeliers, as brilliantly furnished with chairs and sofas and
+mirrors, and adorned with glowing pictures and statues of white marble.
+A piano stood in a recess, and in the last parlor of the three a
+supper-table was spread. These parlors were crowded by some thirty
+guests, men and women, some of whom, seated on chairs and sofas, were
+occupied in low whispered conversation, while others took wine at the
+supper-table, and others again were grouped round the piano, listening
+to the voice of an exceedingly beautiful woman.
+
+Ernest uttered an ejaculation. Never had he seen a spectacle like this,
+never seen before, grouped under one roof, so many beautiful women.
+Beautiful women, richly dressed, their arms and shoulders bare, or
+vailed only by mist-like lace, which gave new fascination to their
+charms. It did not by any means decrease the surprise of Ernest when
+he discovered that some of the ladies--those whose necks and shoulders
+glowed most white and beautiful in the light--wore masks.
+
+"What is this place?" he whispered to Lawson, as apparently unheeded by
+the guests, they passed through the parlors.
+
+"Hush! not so loud," whispered his companion. "Take a glass of wine, my
+boy, and your eyesight will be clearer. This place is a quiet little
+retreat in which certain gentlemen and ladies of New York, by no
+means lacking in wealth or position, endeavor to carry the Koran into
+practice, and create, even in our cold climate, a paradise worthy of
+Mahomet. In a word, it is the residence of a widowed lady, who, blest
+with fortune and all the good things which fortune brings, delights in
+surrounding herself with beautiful women and intellectual men. How do
+you like that wine? There are at least a hundred gentlemen in New York,
+who would give a cool five hundred to stand where you stand now, or
+even cross the threshold of this mansion. I'm an old stager, and have
+brought you here in order to enjoy the effect which a scene like this
+produces on one so inexperienced as you. But you must remember one law
+which governs this place and all who enter it--"
+
+"That condition?"
+
+"All that is said or done here remains a secret forever within the
+compass of these walls; and you must never recognize, in any other
+place, any person whom you have first encountered here. This is a
+matter of honor, Walworth."
+
+"And where is the 'Midnight Queen?'"
+
+"She is not with her guests, I see--but I will give you an answer in a
+moment," and Lawson left the room.
+
+Drinking glass after glass of champagne, Ernest stood by the
+supper-table, a silent spectator of that scene, whose voluptuous
+enchantment gradually inflamed his imagination and fired his blood.
+He seemed to have been suddenly transported from dull matter-of-fact,
+every-day life, to a scene in some far oriental city, in the days of
+Haroun Alraschid. And he surrendered himself to the enchantment of the
+place, like one for the first time enjoying the intoxication of opium.
+
+Lawson returned, and came quietly to his side--
+
+"Would you like to see the 'Midnight Queen,'--alone--in her parlor?" he
+whispered.
+
+"Of all things in the world. You have roused my curiosity. I am like a
+man in a delicious dream."
+
+"Understand me--she is chary of her smiles to an old stager like
+me--but I think, that there is something in you that will interest her.
+She awaits you in her apartments. You are a young English lord on your
+travels (better than a planter), Lord Stanley Fitz Herbert. With that
+black dress and somber face of yours you will take her wonderfully."
+
+"But can I indeed see her?"
+
+"Leave the room--ascend the stairs--at the head of the stairs a light
+shines from a door which is slightly open; take a bold heart and enter."
+
+Inflamed by curiosity, by the wine which he had drunk, and the scene
+around him, Ernest did not take time for a second thought, but left
+the room, ascended the stairs, and stood before the door from whose
+aperture a belt of light streamed out upon the dark passage. There,
+for a moment, he hesitated, but that was all. He opened the door and
+entered. He stood spell-bound by the scene. If the parlors below were
+magnificently furnished, this apartment was worthy of an empress. There
+were lofty walls hung with silk hangings and adorned with pictures; a
+couch with a silken canopy; mirrors that glittered gently in the rich
+voluptuous light; in a word, every detail of luxury and extravagance.
+
+In the center of all stood the "Midnight Queen"--in one hand she held
+an open letter. Her back was toward Ernest as he lingered near the
+threshold. Her neck and shoulders were bare, and he could remark at a
+glance their snowy whiteness and voluptuous outline, although her dark
+hair was gathered in glossy masses upon the shoulders, half hiding them
+from view. A dark dress, rich in its very simplicity, left her arms
+bare and did justice to the rounded proportions of her form.
+
+She turned and confronted Ernest, even as he, the blood bounding in his
+veins, advanced a single step.
+
+At once they spoke:
+
+"My Lord Stanley, I believe,--"
+
+"The 'Midnight Queen,'--"
+
+The words died on their lips. They stood as if suddenly frozen to the
+floor. The beautiful face of the "Midnight Queen" was pale as death,
+and as for Ernest, the glow of the wine had left his cheek--his face
+was livid and distorted.
+
+Moments passed and neither had power to speak.
+
+"O, my God, it is Frank!" the words at last burst from the lips of
+Ernest, and he fell like a dead man at her feet.
+
+Yes, the "Midnight Queen" was Frances Van Huyden, his betrothed
+wife--six months ago resting on his bosom and whispering "husband" in
+his ear,--and now--the wife of another? A widow? Or one utterly fallen
+from all virtue and all hope?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+THE PALACE-HOME.
+
+
+Having thus given the incident from the life of Ernest, as far as
+possible, in the very words of his MSS., let me continue my history
+from the hour when, in company with my mother, I left the cottage home
+of the good clergyman. After the incident just related, nothing in my
+life can appear strange.
+
+I was riding in the carriage with my mother toward New York.
+
+"You are, indeed, very beautiful, Frank," said she, once more regarding
+me attentively. "Your form is that of a mature woman, and your carriage
+(I remarked it as you passed up the garden-walk) excellent. But this
+country dress will not do. We will do better than all that when we get
+to town."
+
+It was night when the carriage left the avenue and rolled into
+Broadway. The noise, the glare, the people hurrying by, all frightened
+me. At the same time Broadway brought back a dim memory of my early
+childhood in Paris. Turning from Broadway, the carriage at length
+stopped before a lofty mansion, the windows of which were closed from
+the sidewalk to the roof.
+
+"This is your home," said my mother, as she led me from the carriage up
+the marble steps into the hall where, in the light of a globular lamp,
+a group of servants in livery awaited us.
+
+"Jenkins,"--my mother spoke to an elderly servant in dark livery turned
+up with red--"let dinner be served in half an hour." Then turning to
+another servant, not quite so old, but wearing the same livery, she
+said: "Jones, Miss Van Huyden wishes to take a look at her house before
+we go to dinner. Take the light and go before us."
+
+The servant, holding a wax candle placed in a huge silver candlestick,
+went before us and showed us the house from the first to the fourth
+floor. Never before had I beheld such magnificence even in my dreams.
+I could not restrain ejaculations of pleasure and surprise at every
+step,--my mother keenly regarding me, sometimes with a faint smile and
+sometimes with the wrinkle growing deeper between her brows. A range of
+parlors on the lower floor were furnished with everything that the most
+extravagant fancy could desire, or exhaustless wealth procure. Carpets
+that gave no echo to the step; sofas and chairs cushioned with velvet
+and (so it seemed to me) framed in gold; mirrors extending from the
+ceiling to the floor; pictures, statues, and tables with tops either
+of marble or ebony; the walls lofty, and the ceiling glowing with a
+painting which represented Aurora and the Hours winging their way
+through a summer sky.
+
+"Whose picture, mother?" I asked, pointing to a picture of a singularly
+handsome man, with dark hair and beard, and eyes remarkable at once for
+their brightness and expression.
+
+"Your father, dear," answered my mother, and again the mark between
+her brows became ominously perceptible. "There is your piano,
+Frank,--you'll find it something better than the one which you had at
+the good parson's."
+
+The servant led the way, up the wide stairway, thickly carpeted, to the
+upper rooms. Here the magnificence of the first floor was repeated on
+a grander, a more luxurious scale. We passed through room after room,
+my eyes dazzled by new signs of wealth and luxury at every step. At
+last we paused on the thick carpet of a spacious bed-chamber, whose
+appointments combined the richest elegance with the nicest taste.
+It was hung with curtains of light azure. An exquisite and touching
+picture of the Virgin Mary confronted the toilette table and mirror. A
+bed with coverlet white as snow, satin covered pillows and canopy of
+lace, stood in one corner; and wherever I turned there were signs of
+neatness, taste and elegance. I could not too much admire the apartment.
+
+"It is your bedroom, my dear," said my mother, silently enjoying my
+delight.
+
+"Why," said I laughingly,--"it is grand enough for a queen."
+
+"And are you not a queen," answered my mother, "and a very beautiful
+one." Turning to the servant, who stood staring at me with eyes big as
+saucers, she said--
+
+"Tell Mrs. Jenkins, the housekeeper, to come here:"--Jones left the
+chamber, and presently returned with Mrs. Jenkins, a portly lady, with
+a round, good-humored face.
+
+"Frank, this is _your_ housekeeper;"--Mrs. Jenkins simpered and
+courtsied, shaking at the same time the bundle of keys at her waist.
+"Mrs. Jenkins, this is your young mistress, Miss Van Huyden. Give me
+the keys."
+
+She took the keys from the housekeeper, and placed them in my hands:
+
+"My dear, this house and all that it contains are yours, I surrender it
+to your charge."
+
+Scarcely knowing what to do with myself I took the keys--which were
+heavy enough--and handing them back to Mrs. Jenkins, "hoped that
+she would continue to superintend the affairs of my mansion, as
+heretofore." All of which pleased my mother and made her smile.
+
+"We will go to dinner without dressing," and my mother led the way down
+stairs to the dining-room. It was a large apartment, in the center
+of which stood a luxuriously furnished table, glittering with gold
+plate. Servants in livery stood like statues behind my chair and my
+mother's. How different from the plain fare and simple style of the
+good clergyman's home! Nay how widely contrasted with the rude dinner
+in a log cabin to which Ernest and myself sat down a few hours ago!
+
+In vain I tried to partake of the rich dishes set out before me; I
+was too much excited to eat. Dinner over, coffee was served, and the
+servants retired. Mother and I were left alone.
+
+"Frank, do you blame me," she said, looking at me carefully--"for
+having you reared so quietly, far away in the country, in order that
+at the proper age, strong in health and rich in accomplishments and
+beauty, you might be prepared to enter upon the enjoyments and duties
+suitable to your station?"
+
+How could I blame her?
+
+I spoke gratefully again and again of the wealth and comfort which
+surrounded me, and then forgetting it all--broke forth into
+impassioned praise of my cottage home, of the good clergyman, of old
+Alice and--Ernest.
+
+Something which came over my mother's face at the mention of Ernest's
+name, warned me that it was not yet time to speak of my engagement to
+him.
+
+That night I bathed my limbs in a perfumed bath, laid my head on a
+silken pillow, and slept beneath a canopy of lace, as soft and light
+and transparent as the summer mist through which you can see the blue
+sky and the distant mountain. And resting on the silken pillow I
+dreamed--not of the splendor with which I was surrounded, nor of the
+golden prospects of my future,--but, of my childhood's home, and the
+quiet scenes of other days. In my sleep my heart turned back to them.
+Once more I heard the voice of the good old man. I heard the shrill
+tones of Alice, as the sun shone on my frosted window-pane, on a clear,
+cold winter morn. Then the voice of Ernest, calling me "Wife!" and
+pressing me to his bosom in the forest nook. I awoke with his name on
+my lips, and,----
+
+My mother stood by the bedside gazing upon me attentively, a smile on
+her lips, but the wrinkle darkly defined between her brows. The sun
+shone brightly through the window curtains.
+
+"Get up my dear," she kissed me,--"You have a busy day before you."
+
+And it was a busy day! I was handed over to the milliners and
+dressmakers, and whirled in my carriage from one jeweler's shop
+to another. It was not until the third day that my dresses were
+completed--according to my mother's taste,--and not until the fourth,
+that the jewels which were to adorn my forehead, my neck, my arms and
+bosom, had been properly selected. Wardrobe and diamonds worthy of a
+queen--and was I happy? No! I began to grow homesick, for my dear quiet
+home, on the hill-side above the Neprehaun.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+"SHE'LL DO."
+
+
+It was on the fourth day, in the afternoon, that my mother desired
+my presence in the parlor, where she wished to present me to a much
+esteemed friend, Mr. Wareham--Mr. Wallace Wareham.
+
+"An excellent man," whispered my mother as we went down stairs
+together, "and immensely rich."
+
+I was richly dressed in black; my neck, my arms and shoulders bare. My
+dark hair, gathered plainly aside from my face, was adorned by a single
+snow-white flower. As I passed by the mirror in the parlor, I could
+not help feeling a throb of womanly pride, or--vanity; and my mother
+whispered, "Frank, you excel yourself to-day."
+
+Mr. Wareham sat on the sofa, in the front parlor, in the mild light
+of the curtained window. He was an elderly gentleman, somewhat bald,
+and slightly inclined to corpulence. He was sleekly clad in black, and
+there was a gold chain across his satin vest, and a brilliant diamond
+upon his ruffled bosom. He sat in an easy, composed attitude, resting
+both hands on his gold-headed cane. At first sight he impressed me, as
+an elderly gentleman, exceedingly _nice_ in his personal appearance;
+and that was all. But there was something peculiar and remarkable about
+his face and look, which did not appear at first sight.
+
+I was presented to him: he rose and bowed; and took me kindly by the
+hand.
+
+Then conversing in a calm, even tone, which soon set me at ease, he led
+me to talk of my childhood--of my home on the Neprehaun--of the life
+which I had passed with the good clergyman. I soon forgot myself in my
+subject, and grew impassioned, perchance eloquent. I felt my cheeks
+glow and my eyes sparkle. But all at once I was brought to a dead
+pause, by remarking the singular expression of Mr. Wareham's face.
+
+I stopped abruptly--blushed--and at a glance surveyed him closely.
+
+His forehead was high and bold, and encircled by slight curls of black
+hair, streaked with gray,--its expression eminently intellectual. But
+the lower part of his face was heavy, almost animal. There was a deep
+wrinkle on either side of his mouth, and as for the mouth itself, its
+upper lip was thin, almost imperceptible, while the lower one was
+large, projecting and of deep red, approaching purple, thus presenting
+a singular contrast to the corpse-like pallor of his cheeks. His eyes,
+half hidden under the bulging lids, when I began my description of my
+childhood's home, all at once expanded, and I saw their real expression
+and color. They were large, the eyeballs exceedingly white, and the
+pupils clear gray, and their expression reminded you of nothing that
+you had ever seen or heard of, but simply made you _afraid_. And as the
+eyes expanded, a slight smile would agitate his upper lip, while the
+lower one protruded, disclosing a set of artificial teeth, white as
+milk. It was the sudden expansion of the eyes, the smile on the upper
+lip and the protrusion of the lower one, that made up the peculiar
+expression of Mr. Wareham's face,--an expression which made you feel as
+though you had just awoke from a grotesque yet frightful dream.
+
+"Why do you pause, daughter?" said my mother, observing my confusion.
+
+"Proceed my child," said Mr. Wareham, devouring me from head to foot
+with his great eyes, at the same time rubbing his lower lip against the
+upper, as though he was tasting something good to eat. "I enjoy these
+delightful reminiscences of childhood. I dote on such things."
+
+But I could not proceed--I blushed again--and the tears came into my
+eyes.
+
+"You have been fatigued by the bustle of the last three days," said my
+mother kindly: "Mr. Wareham will excuse you," and she made me a sign to
+leave the room.
+
+Never was a sign more willingly obeyed. I hurried from the room, and as
+I closed the door, I heard Mr. Wareham say in a low voice--
+
+"She'll do. When will you tell her?"
+
+That night, as I sat on the edge of my bed, clad in my night-dress--my
+dark hair half gathered in a lace cap and half falling on my
+shoulders--my mother came suddenly into the room, and placing her
+candle on a table, took her seat by me on the bed. She was, as I have
+told you, an exceedingly beautiful woman, in spite of the threads of
+silver in her hair and the ominous wrinkle between her brows. But as
+she sat by me, and put her arm about my neck, toying with my hair, her
+look was infinitely affectionate.
+
+"And what do you think of Mr. Wareham, dear?" she asked me--and I felt
+that her gaze was fixed keenly on my face.
+
+I described my impressions frankly and with what language I could
+command, concluding with the words, "In short, I do not like him. He
+makes me feel afraid."
+
+"O, you'll soon get over that," answered my mother. "Now he takes a
+great interest in you. Let me tell you something about him. He is a
+foreign gentleman, immensely rich; worth hundreds of thousands, perhaps
+a million. He has estates in this country, in England and France. He
+has traveled over half the globe; on further acquaintance you will be
+charmed by his powers of observation, his fund of anecdote, his easy
+flow of conversational eloquence. And then he has a good heart, Frank!
+I could keep you up all night in repeating but a small portion of his
+innumerable acts of benevolence. I met him first in Paris, years ago,
+just after he had unhappily married. And since I first met him he has
+been my fast friend. He is a good, a noble man, Frank; you _will_, you
+_must_ like him."
+
+"But, then, his eyes, mother! and _that_ lip!" and I cast my eyes
+meekly to the floor.
+
+"Pshaw!" returned my mother, with a start, "don't allow yourself to
+make fun of a dear personal friend of mine." She kissed me on the
+forehead,--"you _will_ like him, dear," and bade me good-night.
+
+And on my silken pillow I slept and dreamed--of home,--of the good old
+man,--of Ernest and the forest nook,--but all my dreams were haunted by
+a vision of two great eyes and a huge red lip--everywhere, everywhere
+they haunted me, the lip now projecting over the clergyman's head and
+the eyes looking over Ernest's shoulder. I awoke with a start and a
+laugh.
+
+"You are in good spirits, my child," said my mother, who stood by the
+bed.
+
+"I had a frightful dream but it ended funnily. All night long I've seen
+nothing but Mr. Wareham's eyes and lip, but the last I saw of them they
+were flying like butterflies a few feet above ground, eyes first and
+lips next, and old Alice chasing them with her broom."
+
+"Never mind; you _will_ like him," rejoined my mother.
+
+I certainly had every chance to like him. For three days he was a
+constant visitor at our house. He accompanied mother and myself on a
+drive along Broadway and out on the avenue. I enjoyed the excitement
+of Broadway and the fresh air of the country, but--Mr. Wareham was
+by my side, talking pleasantly, even eloquently, and looking all the
+while as if he would like to eat me. We went to the opera, and for the
+first time, the fairy world of the stage was disclosed to me. I was
+enchanted,--the lights, the costumes, the music, the circle of youth
+and beauty, all wrapt me in a delicious dream, but--close by my side
+was Mr. Wareham, his eyes expanded and his lip protruding. I thought of
+the Arabian Nights and was reminded of a well-dressed Ghoul. I began
+to hate the man. On the fourth day he brought me a handsome bracelet,
+glittering with diamonds, which my mother bade me accept, and on the
+fifth day I hated him with all my soul. There was an influence about
+him which repelled me and made me afraid.
+
+It was the sixth night in my new home, and in my night-dress, I was
+seated on the edge of my bed, the candle near, and my mother by my
+side. She had entered the room with a serious and even troubled face.
+The wrinkle was marked deep between her brows. Fixing my lace cap on
+my head and smoothing my curls with a gentle pressure of her hand, she
+looked at me long and anxiously but in silence.
+
+"O, mother!" I said, "when will we visit 'father,'--and good old Alice,
+and--Ernest? I am so anxious to see my home again!"
+
+"You must forget that home," said my mother gravely. "You will shortly
+be surrounded by new ties and new duties. Nay, do not start and look at
+me with so much wonder. I see that I must be plain with you. Listen to
+me, Frank. Who owns this house?"
+
+"It is yours!"
+
+"The pictures, the gold plate, the furniture worthy of such a palace?"
+
+"Yours,--all yours, mother."
+
+"Who purchased the dresses and the diamonds which you wear,--dresses
+and diamonds worthy of a queen?"
+
+"You did, mother--of course," I hesitated.
+
+"Wrong, Frank, all wrong!" and her eyes shone vividly, and the mark
+between her brows grew blacker. "The house which shelters you, the
+furniture which meets your gaze, the dresses which clothe you, and the
+diamonds which adorn your person, are the property of--Mr. Wareham."
+
+It seemed to me as if the floor had opened at my feet.
+
+"O, mother! you are jesting," I faltered.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+A REVELATION.
+
+
+"I am a beggar, child, and you are a beggar's daughter. It is to Mr.
+Wareham that we are indebted for all that we enjoy. For years he has
+paid the expenses of your education; and now that you have grown
+to young womanhood he shelters you in a palace, surrounds you with
+splendor that a queen might envy, and not satisfied with this,--"
+
+She paused and fixed her eyes upon my face, I know that I was
+frightfully pale.
+
+"Offers you his hand in marriage."
+
+For a moment the light, the mirrors, the roof itself swam round me, and
+I sank half-fainting in my mother's arms.
+
+"O! this is but a jest, a cruel jest to frighten me. Say, mother, it is
+a jest!"
+
+"It is not a jest; it is sober, serious earnest;" and she raised me
+sternly from her arms. "He has offered his hand, and you _will_ marry
+him."
+
+I flung myself on my knees at the bedside, clasped her hands, and as
+my night-dress fell back from my shoulders and bosom, I told her, with
+sobs and tears, of my love for Ernest, and my engagement with him.
+
+"Pshaw! A poor clergyman's son," she said bitterly.
+
+"O, let us leave this place, mother!" I cried, still pressing her hands
+to my bosom. "You say that we are poor. Be it so. We will find a home
+together in the home of my childhood. Or if that fails us, I will work
+for you. I will toil from sun to sun and all night long,--beg,--do
+anything rather than marry this man. For, mother, I cannot help
+it,--but I do hate him with all my soul."
+
+"Pretty talk, very pretty!" and she loosened her hands from my grasp;
+"but did you ever try poverty, my child? Did you ever know what the
+word meant,--POVERTY? Did you ever work sixteen hours a day, at your
+needle, for as many pennies, walk the streets at dead of winter in
+half-naked feet, and go for two long days and nights without a morsel
+of food? Did you ever try it, my child? That's the life which _poor_
+widows and their pretty daughters live in New York, my dear."
+
+"But Ernest loves me,--he will make his way in life,--we will be
+married,--you will share our home, dear mother."
+
+These words rendered her perfectly furious. She started up and uttered
+a frightful oath--it was the first time I had ever heard an oath from
+a woman's lips. Her countenance for a moment was fiendish. She assailed
+me with a torrent of reproaches, concluding thus:
+
+"And this is your gratitude for the care, the anxiety, the very agony
+of a mother's anxiety, which I have endured on your account for years!
+In return for all you condemn me to--poverty! But it shall not be. One
+of us must bend, and that one will not be me. I swear, girl,"--her
+brows were knit, she was lividly pale, and she raised her right hand to
+heaven,--"that you _shall_ marry this man."
+
+"And I swear,"--I bounded to my feet, my bosom bare, and the blood
+boiling in my veins--perchance it was the same blood which gave my
+mother her fiery temper,--"I swear that I will _not_ marry him as long
+as there is life in me. Do you hear me, mother? Before I marry that
+miserable wretch, whose very presence fills me with loathing, I will
+fall a corpse at your feet."
+
+My words, my attitude took her by surprise. She surveyed me silently
+but was too much enraged to speak.
+
+"O, that my father was living!" I cried, the fit of passion succeeded
+by a burst of tears; "he would save me from this hideous marriage."
+
+My mother quietly drew a letter from her bosom and placed it open in my
+hand.
+
+"Your father is living. That letter is the last one I have received
+from him. Read it, my angel."
+
+I took it,--it was very brief,--I read it at a glance. It was addressed
+to my mother, and bore a recent date. These were its contents:
+
+ "DEAR FRANK:
+
+ "My sentence expires in two weeks from to-day. Send me some decent
+ clothes, and let me know where I will meet you. Glad to hear that your
+ plans as regards _our daughter_ approach a 'glorious' completion.
+
+ "Yours as ever,
+
+ "CHARLES."
+
+It was a letter from a convict in Auburn prison,--and that convict was
+my father!
+
+"It is false; my father died years ago," I cried in very agony. "This
+is not from my father."
+
+"It is from your father," answered my mother; "and unless I send him
+the clothes which he asks for, you will see him, in less than three
+weeks, in his convict rags."
+
+"O, mother! are you human? A mother to taunt her own daughter with her
+father's shame,--"
+
+My temples throbbed madly and my sight failed. All that mortal can
+endure and be conscious, I had endured. I sank on the floor, and had
+not my mother caught me in her arms, I would have wounded my forehead
+against the marble table.
+
+All night long, half waking, half delirious, I tossed on my silken
+couch mingling the name of my convict father and of Ernest in my broken
+exclamations. Once I was conscious for a moment and looked around
+with clear eyes. My mother was watching over me. Her face was bathed
+in tears. She was _human_ after all. That moment past, the delirium
+returned and I struggled with horrible dreams until morning.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+MORPHINE.
+
+
+When I awoke next morning, my mind was clear again, and even as I
+unclosed my eyes and saw the sunlight shining gayly through the
+curtains, a fixed purpose took possession of my soul. It was yet early
+morning. There was no one save myself in the chamber. Perchance worn
+out by watching, my mother had retired to rest. I quietly arose and
+dressed myself--not in the splendid attire furnished by my mother, but
+in the plain white dress, bonnet, and shawl which I had brought with me
+from my cottage home.
+
+"It is early. No one is stirring in the mansion. I can pass from the
+hall door unobserved. Then it is only sixteen miles to-home,--only
+sixteen miles, I can walk it."
+
+And at the very thought of meeting "father" and Ernest again, my heart
+leaped in my bosom. Determined to escape from the mansion at all
+hazards, I drew my vail over my face, my shawl across my shoulders, and
+hurried to the door. I opened it, my foot was on the threshold, when I
+found myself confronted by the portly form of Mrs. Jenkins.
+
+"Pardon me, Miss," she said, placing herself directly before me; "your
+mother gave me directions to call her as soon as you awoke."
+
+"But I wish to take a short walk and breathe a little of the morning
+air," I answered, and attempted to pass her.
+
+"The morning air is not good for young ladies," said another voice, and
+my mother's face, appeared over the housekeeper's shoulder. "After a
+while we shall take a ride, my dear. For the present, you will please
+retire to your room."
+
+Startled at the sound of my mother's voice, I involuntarily stepped
+back--the door was closed, and I heard the key turn in the lock.
+
+I was a prisoner in my own room. There I remained all day long; my
+meals were served by the housekeeper and my maid Caroline. My mother
+did not appear. How I passed that day, a prisoner in my luxurious
+chamber, cannot be described. I sat for hours, with my head resting on
+my hands, and my eyes to the floor. What plans of escape, mingled with
+forebodings of the future, crossed my brain! At length I took pen and
+paper, and wrote a brief note to Ernest, informing him of my danger,
+and begging him, as he loved me, to hasten at once to town and to the
+mansion. This note I folded, sealed, and directed properly. "Caroline,"
+said I to my maid, who was a pleasant-faced young woman of about
+twenty, with dark hair and eyes--"I would like this letter to be placed
+in the post-office at once. Will you take charge of it for me?"
+
+"I'll give it to Jones," she responded--"he's goin' down to the post
+office right away."
+
+"But Caroline," I regarded her with a meaning look, "I do not wish any
+one to know, that I sent this letter to the post-office. Will you keep
+it a secret?"
+
+"Not a livin' mortal shall know it--not a livin' mortal;" and taking
+the letter she left the room. After a few minutes she returned with a
+smiling face, "Jones has got it and he's gone!"
+
+I could scarce repress a wild ejaculation of joy. Ernest will receive
+it to-night; he will be here to-morrow; I will be saved!
+
+The day wore on and my mother did not appear. Toward evening Caroline
+came into my room, bearing a new dress upon her arm--a dress of white
+satin, richly embroidered and adorned with the costliest lace.
+
+"O, Miss, ain't it beautiful!" cried Caroline, displaying the dress
+before me, "and the bonnet and vail to match it, will be here to-night,
+an' your new di'monds. It's really fit for a queen."
+
+It was indeed a magnificent dress.
+
+"Who is it for?" I asked.
+
+"Now, come, ain't that good! 'Who is it for?' And you lookin' so
+innocent as you ask it. As if you did not know all the while, that it's
+your bridal dress, and that you are to be married airly in the mornin',
+after which you will set off on your bridal _tower_."
+
+"Caroline, where did you learn this?" I asked, my heart dying within me.
+
+"Why, how can you keep such things secret from the servants? Ain't your
+mother been gettin' ready for it all day, and ain't the servants been
+a-flyin' here and there, like mad? And Mr. Wareham's been so busy all
+day, and lookin' _so_ pleased! Laws, Miss, _how_ can you expect to keep
+such things from the servants?"
+
+I heard this intelligence, conveyed in the garrulous manner of my maid,
+as a condemned prisoner might hear the reading of his death warrant. I
+saw that nothing could shake my mother in her purpose. She was resolved
+to accomplish the marriage at all hazards. In the morning I was to be
+married, transferred body and soul to the possession of a man whom I
+hated in my very heart.
+
+But I resolved that he should not possess me living. He might marry me,
+but he should only place the bridal ring upon the hand of a corpse.
+
+The resolution came in a moment. How to accomplish it was next my
+thought.
+
+Approaching Caroline in a guarded manner, I spoke of my nervousness and
+loss of sleep, and of a vial of _morphine_ which my mother kept by her
+for a nervous affection.
+
+"Could you not obtain it for me, Caroline? and without my mother
+seeing you, for she does not like me to accustom myself to the use
+of morphine. I am sadly in want of sleep, but I am so nervous that
+I cannot close my eyes. Get it for me," I put my arms about her
+neck--"that's a dear good girl."
+
+"Laws, Miss, how kin one resist your purty eyes! It is in the casket on
+the bureau, is it? Just wait a moment;" she left the room and presently
+returned. She held the vial in her hand. I took it eagerly, pretended
+to place it in the drawer of a cabinet which stood near the bed, but,
+in reality, hid it in my bosom.
+
+"Now mother, you may force on the marriage," I mentally ejaculated;
+"but your daughter has the threads of her own destiny in her hand."
+
+How had I accustomed myself to the idea of suicide? It came upon me not
+slowly, but like a flash of lightning. It was in opposition to all the
+lessons I had learned from the good clergyman. 'But,' the voice of the
+tempter, seemed whispering in my ear--'while suicide is a crime, it
+becomes a virtue when it is committed to avoid a greater crime.' It is
+wrong to kill my body, but infinitely worse to kill both body and soul
+in the prostitution of an unholy marriage.
+
+As evening drew on I was left alone. I bathed myself, arranged my hair,
+and then attired myself in my white night-robe. And then, as the last
+glimpse of day came faintly through the window curtains, I sank on
+my knees by the bed, and prayed. O how in one vivid picture the holy
+memories of the past came upon me, in that awful moment!
+
+"Ernest I will meet you in the better world!"
+
+I drank the contents of the vial and rose to my feet. At the same
+instant the door opened and my mother appeared, holding a lighted
+candle in her hand. She saw me in my white dress, was struck,
+perchance, by the wildness of my gaze, and then her eye rested upon the
+extended hand which held the vial.
+
+"Well, Frank, how do you like your marriage dress," she began, but
+stopped, and changed color as she saw the vial.
+
+"O, mother," I cried, "with my last breath I forgive you, and pray God
+that you may be able to forgive yourself."
+
+I saw her horror-stricken look and I fell insensible at her feet.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+THE SALE IS COMPLETE.
+
+
+When I awoke again--but I cannot proceed. There are crimes done every
+day, which the world knows by heart, and yet shudders to see recorded,
+even in the most carefully vailed phrase. But the crime of which I
+was the victim, was too horrible for belief. Wareham the criminal, my
+own mother the accomplice, the victim a girl of fifteen, who had been
+reared in purity and innocence afar from the world.
+
+When I awoke again--for the potion failed to kill--I found myself in my
+room, and Wareham by my side, surveying me as a ghoul might look upon
+the dead body which he has stolen from the grave. The vial given to
+me by the maid did not contain a fatal poison, but merely a powerful
+anodyne, which sealed my senses for hours in sleep, and--combined with
+the reaction of harrowing excitement--left me for days in a state of
+half dreamy consciousness. I awoke * * * * My sight was dim, my senses
+dulled, but I knew that I was lost! Lost! O, how poor and tame that
+word, to express the living damnation of which I was the victim! The
+events of the next twenty-four hours, I can but vaguely remember. I was
+taken from the bed, arrayed in the bridal costume, and then led down
+stairs into the parlor. There was a marriage celebrated there (as I was
+afterward told)--yes! it was there that a minister of the Gospel, book
+in hand, sanctified with the name of marriage, the accursed bargain
+of which I was the victim--marriage, that sacrament which makes of
+home, God's holiest altar, the truest type of Heaven--marriage was,
+in my case, made the cloak of an unspeakable crime. I can remember
+that I said some words, which my mother whispered in my ear, and that
+I signed my name to a letter which she had written. It was the letter
+which Ernest received, announcing my intention to visit Niagara. As for
+the letter which I had written to him, on the previous day, it never
+went farther than from the hands of Caroline to those of my mother. I
+was hurried into a carriage, Wareham by my side, and then on board of
+a steamboat, and have a vague consciousness of passing up the Hudson
+river. I did not clearly recover my senses, until I found myself at
+Niagara Falls, leaning on Wareham's arm, and pointed at by the crowd of
+visitors at the Falls, as "the beautiful bride of the Millionaire."
+
+From the Falls, we passed up the Lakes, and then retraced our steps;
+visited the Falls again; journeyed to Montreal, and then home by Lake
+Champlain and the Hudson river. My mother did not accompany us. We were
+gone three months, and as the boat glided down the Hudson, the trees
+were already touched by autumn. As the boat drew near Tapaan bay, I
+concealed myself in my stateroom--I dared not look upon my cottage home.
+
+We arrived at home toward the close of a September day. My mother met
+me at the door, calm and smiling. She gave me her hand--but I pushed
+it gently away. Wareham led me up the steps. I stood once more in that
+house, from which I had gone forth, like one walking in their sleep.
+And that night, in our chamber, Wareham and myself held a conversation,
+which had an important bearing on his life and mine.
+
+I was sitting alone in my chamber, dressed in a white wrapper, and
+my hair flowing unconfined upon my shoulders; my hands were clasped
+and my head bent upon my breast. I was thinking of the events of the
+last three months, of all that I had endured from the man whose very
+presence in the same room, filled me with loathing. My husband entered,
+followed by Jenkins, who placed a lighted candle, a bottle of wine and
+glasses on the table, and then retired.
+
+"What, is my pretty girl all alone, and in a thinking mood?" cried
+Wareham, seating himself by the table and filling a glass with wine;
+"and pray, my love, what is the subject of your thoughts?"
+
+And raising the glass to his lips, he surveyed me from head to foot
+with that gloating gaze which always gave a singular light to his eyes.
+His face was slightly flushed on the colorless cheeks. He had already
+been drinking freely, and was now evidently under the influence of wine.
+
+"You have a fine bust, my girl," he continued, as though he was
+repeating the "points" of a horse; "a magnificent arm, a foot that
+beats the Medicean Venus all hollow, and limbs,--" he paused and sipped
+his wine, protruding his nether lip which now was scarlet red,--"such
+limbs! I like the expression of your eyes--there's fire in them, and
+your clear brown complexion, and your moist red lips, and,--" he sipped
+his wine again,--"altogether an elegantly built female."
+
+And he rose and approached me. I also rose, my eyes flashing and my
+bosom swelling with suppressed rage.
+
+"Wareham, I warn you not to touch me," I said in a low voice. "For
+three months I have been your prey. I will be so no longer. Before the
+world you may call me wife, if you choose--you have bought the right
+to do that--but I inform you, once for all, that henceforth we are
+strangers. Do you understand me, Wareham? I had as lief be chained to a
+corpse as to submit to be touched by you."
+
+He fell back startled, his face manifesting surprise and anger, but in
+an instant his gaze was upon me again, and he indulged in a low burst
+of laughter.
+
+"Come, I like this! It is a pleasant change from the demure, pious girl
+of three months ago to the full-blown tragedy queen." He sank into a
+chair and filled another glass of wine. "Be seated, Frank, I want to
+have a little talk with my pet."
+
+I resumed my seat.
+
+"You give yourself airs under the impression that you are my
+wife,--joint owner of my immense fortune,--my rich widow in
+perspective. Erroneous impression, Frank. I have a wife living in
+England."
+
+The entirely malignant look, which accompanied these words, convinced
+me of their sincerity. For a moment I felt as though an awful weight
+had crushed my brain, and by a glance at the mirror, I saw I was
+frightfully pale; but recovering myself by a strong exertion of will, I
+answered him in these words:
+
+"Gentlemen, who allow themselves more than one wife at a time, are
+sometimes (owing to an unfortunate prejudice of society) invited to
+occupy an apartment in the state prison."
+
+"And so you think you hold a rod over my head?"--he drank his
+wine--"but I have only one wife, Frank. The gentleman, who married
+you and me, was neither clergyman nor officer of the law, but simply
+a convenient friend. Our mock marriage was not even published in the
+papers."
+
+Every word went like an ice-bolt to my heart. I could not speak. Then,
+as his eyes glared with a mingled look of hatred and of brutal passion,
+he sipped his wine as he surveyed me, and continued:
+
+"You used the word 'bought' some time ago. You were right. 'Bought' is
+the word. You are simply my _purchase_. In Constantinople these things
+are easily managed; they keep an open market of fine girls there; but
+here we must find an affable mother, and pay a huge price--sometimes
+even marry the dear angels. I met your mother in Paris some years ago,
+and have been intimately acquainted with her ever since. When she first
+spoke of you, you were a child and I was weary of the world--jaded,
+sick of its pleasures, by which I mean its women. An idea struck me!
+What if this pretty little child, now being educated in innocence and
+pious ways, and so forth, should, in the full blossom of her beauty
+and piety--say at the ripe age of sixteen--become the consoler of
+my declining years? And so I paid the expenses of your education
+(your father consenting that I should _adopt_ you, but very possibly
+understanding the whole matter as well as your mother), and you were
+accordingly _educated_ for me. And when I first saw you, three months
+ago, it was your very innocence and pious way of talking which gave an
+irresistible effect to your beauty, and made me mad to possess you at
+all hazards."
+
+It is impossible to depict the bitter mocking tone in which these words
+were spoken.
+
+"I settled this mansion, the furniture, and so forth upon your mother,
+with ten thousand dollars. That was the price. You see how much you
+have cost me, my dear."
+
+"But I will leave your accursed mansion." I felt, as I spoke, as though
+my heart was dead in my bosom. "I am not chained to you in marriage; I
+am, at least, free." I started to my feet and moved a step toward the
+door.
+
+"But where will you go? back to your elderly clerical friend, with
+every finger leveled at you and every voice whispering 'There goes the
+mistress of the rich Englishman!' Back to your village lover to palm
+yourself upon him as a pure and spotless maiden?"
+
+I sank into a chair and covered my face with my hands.
+
+"Or will you begin the life of a poor seamstress, working sixteen hours
+per day for as many pennies, and at last, take to the streets for
+bread?"
+
+His words cut me to the quick. I saw that there was no redemption in
+this world for a woman whose innocence has been sacrificed.
+
+"But think better of it, my dear. Your mother shall surround you with
+the most select and fashionable company in New York,--she shall give
+splendid parties,--you will be the presiding genius of every festival.
+As for myself, dropping the name of husband, I will sink into an
+unobtrusive visitor. When you see a little more of the world you will
+not think your case such a hard one after all."
+
+My face buried in my hands, I had not one word of reply.
+Lost,--lost,--utterly lost!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+"LOST, LOST UTTERLY."
+
+
+My mother soon afterward gave her first party. It was attended by many
+of the rich and the fashionable of both sexes, and there were the
+glare of lights, the presence of beautiful women, and the wine-cup
+and the dance. The festival was prolonged till daybreak, and another
+followed soon. The atmosphere was new to me. At first I was amazed,
+then intoxicated, and then--corrupted. Anxious to bury the memory
+of my shame, to forget how lost and abandoned I was, to drown every
+thought of my childhood's home and of Ernest, who never could be
+mine, soon from a silent spectator I became a participant in the
+revels which, night after night, were held beneath my mother's roof.
+The persons who mingled in these scenes, were rich husbands who came
+accompanied by other men's wives; wives, who had sacrificed themselves
+in marriage, for the sake of wealth, to husbands twice their age, and
+these came with the husbands of other women,--in a word, all that came
+to the mansion and shared in its orgies, were either the victims or
+the criminals of society,--of a bad social world, which on every hand
+contrasts immense wealth and voluptuous indulgence with fathomless
+poverty and withering want, and which too often makes of a marriage but
+the cloak for infamy and prostitution. I shared in every revel, and
+lost myself in their maddening excitement. I was admired, flattered,
+and elevated at last to the position of presiding genius of these
+scenes. I became the "Midnight Queen." But let the curtain fall.
+
+One night I noticed a new visitor, a remarkably handsome gentleman who
+sat near me at the supper-table, and whose hair and eyes and whiskers
+were black as jet. He regarded me very earnestly and with a look which
+I could not define.
+
+"Don't think me impertinent," he said, and then added in a lower voice,
+"for I am your father, Frank. Don't call me Van Huyden--my name is
+Tarleton now."
+
+Fearful that I might one day encounter Ernest, I wrote him a long
+letter breathing something of the tone of my early days--for I forgot
+for awhile my utterly hopeless condition--and informing him that mother
+and myself were about to sail for Europe. I wished him to believe that
+I was in a foreign land.
+
+And one night, while the revel was progressing in the rooms below,
+Wareham entered my room and interested me in the description which he
+gave of a young lord, who wished to be introduced to me.
+
+"Young, handsome, and pale as if from thought. The very style of man
+you admire, my pet."
+
+"Let him come up," I answered, and Wareham retired.
+
+I stood before the mirror as the young lord entered, and as I turned, I
+saw the face of my betrothed husband, Ernest Walworth.
+
+Upon the horror of that moment I need not dwell.
+
+He fell insensible to the floor, and was carried from the room and the
+house to the carriage by Wareham, who had led him to the place.
+
+I have never seen the face of Ernest since that hour.
+
+I received one letter from him--one only--in which he set forth the
+circumstances which induced him to visit my house, and in which he bade
+me "farewell."
+
+He is now in a foreign land. The bones of his father rest in the
+village church-yard. The cottage home is desolate.
+
+Wareham died suddenly about a year after our "marriage." The doctors
+said that his death was caused by an overdose of Morphine _administered
+by himself in mistake_. He died in our house, and as mother and myself
+stood over his coffin in the darkened room, the day before the funeral,
+I noticed that she regarded first myself and then the face of the dead
+profligate with a look full of meaning.
+
+"Don't you think, dear mother," I whispered, "that the death of this
+good man was very singular?"
+
+She made no reply, but still her face wore that meaning look.
+
+"Would it be strange, mother, if your daughter, improving on your
+lessons, had added another feature to her accomplishments--had from the
+Midnight Queen,"--I lowered my voice--"become the Midnight _Poisoner_?"
+
+I met her gaze boldly--and she turned her face away.
+
+He died without ever a dog to mourn for him, and his immense wealth was
+inherited by a deserted and much abused wife, who lived in a foreign
+land.
+
+Immense wealth in him bore its natural flower--a life of shameless
+indulgence, ending in a miserable death.
+
+I did not shed very bitter tears at his funeral. Hatred is not the word
+to express the feeling with which I regard his memory.
+
+Soon afterward my mother was taken ill, and wasted rapidly to death.
+Hers was an awful death-bed. The candle was burning to its socket,
+and mingled its rays with the pale moonlight which shone through the
+window-curtains. Her brown hair, streaked with gray, falling to her
+shoulders, her form terribly emaciated, and her eyes glaring in her
+shrunken face, she started up in her bed, clutched my hands in hers,
+and--begged me to forgive her.
+
+My heart was stone. I could not frame one forgiving word.
+
+As her chilled hands clutched mine, she rapidly went over the dark
+story of her life,--how from an innocent girl, she had been hardened
+into the thing she was,--and again, her eyes glaring on my face,
+besought my forgiveness.
+
+"I forgive you, Mother," I said slowly, and she died.
+
+My father was not present at her death, nor did he attend her funeral.
+
+And for myself--what has the Future in store for me?
+
+O, for Rest! O, for Forgiveness! O, for a quiet Sleep beneath the
+graveyard sod!
+
+And with that aspiration for Rest, Forgiveness, Peace, uttered with all
+the yearning of a heart sick to the core, of life and all that life
+can inflict or give, ended the manuscript of FRANCES VAN HUYDEN, the
+MIDNIGHT QUEEN.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It is now our task to describe certain scenes which took place in New
+York, between Nightfall and Midnight, on this 23d of December, 1844.
+And at midnight we will enter THE TEMPLE where the death's head is
+hidden among voluptuous flowers.
+
+
+
+
+PART SECOND.
+
+"FROM NIGHTFALL UNTIL MIDNIGHT."
+
+DEC. 23, 1844.
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+BLOODHOUND AND THE UNKNOWN.
+
+
+Two persons were sitting at a table, in the Refectory beneath Lovejoy's
+Hotel. One of these drank brandy and the other drank water. The brandy
+drinker was our friend Bloodhound, and the drinker of water was a
+singular personage, whose forehead was shaded by a broad-brimmed hat,
+while the lower part of his face was covered by a blue kerchief, which
+was tied over his throat and mouth.
+
+Seated at a table in the center of the place, these two conversed in
+low tones, while all around was uproar and confusion.
+
+"You found these persons?" said the gentleman with the broad-brimmed
+hat and blue neckerchief.
+
+"I didn't do anything else," replied the Hound--"I met you here, at
+Lovejoy's, about dusk. You were a tee-total stranger to me. You says,
+says you, that you'd like to do a good turn to Harry Royalton, and at
+the same time _fix_ this white nigger and his sister--you know who I
+mean?"
+
+"Randolph and Esther--"
+
+"Well, we closed our bargain. You gave me a note to Randolph and one to
+his sister. I hunted 'em out and delivered your notes, and here I am."
+
+Bloodhound smiled one of his most frightful smiles, and consoled
+himself with a glass of brandy.
+
+"Where did you find these persons?" asked Blue Kerchief.
+
+"At a tip-top boardin' house up town, accordin' to your directions. I
+fust saw the boy and delivered your note, and arter he was gone I saw
+the gal and did the same. Now, old boss, do you think they'll come?"
+
+"You saw the contents of those notes?"
+
+"I did. I saw you write 'em and read 'em afore you sealed 'em up. The
+one to Randolph requested him to be at a sartin place on the Five
+Points about twelve o'clock. An' the one to Esther requested her to be
+at the Temple about the same hour. Now do you think they'll come?"
+
+"You have seen Godlike and Royalton?" said the unknown, speaking
+thickly through the neckerchief which enveloped his mouth.
+
+"Godlike will be at the Temple as the clock strikes twelve, and Harry
+and me will be at Five Points, at the identical spot--you know--at the
+very same identical hour."
+
+"That is sufficient. Here is the sum I promised you," and the stranger
+laid two broad gold pieces on the table: "we must now part. Should I
+ever need you, we will meet again. Good night."
+
+And the stranger rose, and left the refectory, Bloodhound turning his
+head over his shoulder as he watched his retreating figure with dumb
+amazement.
+
+"Cool! I call it cool!" he soliloquised; "Waiter, see here; another
+glass of brandy. Yet this is good gold; has the right ring, hey? Judas
+Iscariot! Somehow or 'nother, everything I touch turns to gold. Wonder
+what the chap in the blue handkercher has agin the white nigger and his
+sister? Who keers? At twelve to-night Godlike will have the gal, and
+Harry and I will have the nigger. Ju-das Iscariot!" Here let us leave
+the Bloodhound for awhile, to his solemn meditations and his glass of
+brandy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+THE CANAL STREET SHIRT STORE.
+
+
+"Do you call them stitches? S-a-y? How d'ye expect a man to git a
+livin' if he's robbed in that way? Do you call that a shirt--s-a-y?"
+
+"Indeed I did my best--"
+
+"Did your best? I should like to know what you take me for? D'ye think
+I'm a fool? Did not I give you the stuff for five shirts, and fust of
+all, I exacted a pledge of five dollars from you, to be forfeited if
+you spoilt the stuff--"
+
+"And you know I was to receive two shillings for each shirt. I'll thank
+you to pay me my money, and restore my five dollars and let me go--"
+
+"Not a copper. This shirt is spoilt. And if those you have in your arms
+are no better, why they are spoilt too--"
+
+"They're made as well as the one you hold--no better."
+
+"Then I can't sell 'em for old rags. Just give 'em to me, and clear
+out--"
+
+"At least give me back my five dollars--"
+
+"Not a copper. Had you finished these shirts in the right style, they'd
+a-sold for fifteen dollars. As it is, the money is forfeited,--I mean
+the five dollars which you left with me as a pledge. I can't employ you
+any more. Just give me the other four shirts, and clear out."
+
+The storekeeper and the poor girl were separated by a counter, on
+which was placed a showy case. She was dressed in a faded calico gown,
+and a shawl as worn and faded, hung about her shoulders. She wore a
+straw bonnet, although it was a night in mid-winter; and beneath her
+poverty-stricken dress, her shoes were visible: old and worn into
+shreds they scarcely clung to her feet. Her entire appearance indicated
+extreme poverty.
+
+The storekeeper, who stood beneath the gas-light, was a well preserved
+and portly man of forty years, or more, with a bald head, a wide
+mouth and a snub nose. Rings glistered on his fat fingers. His black
+velvet vest was crossed by a gold chain. His spotless shirt bosom was
+decorated by a flashy breastpin. He spoke sharp and quick, and with a
+proper sense of his dignity as the Proprietor of the "ONLY UNIVERSAL
+SHIRT STORE, No. ----, Canal St., New York."
+
+Between him and the girl was a glass case, in which were displayed
+shirts of the most elegant patterns and elaborate workmanship. Behind
+him were shelves, lined with boxes, also filled with shirts, whose
+prices were labeled on the outside of each box. At his right-hand,
+was the shop-window,--a small room in itself--flaring with gas, and
+crowded with shirts of all imaginable shapes--shirts with high collars,
+Byron collars, and shirts without any collars at all;--shirts with
+plaits large, small and infinitesimal--shirts with ruffles, shirts
+with stripes and shirts with spots;--in fact, looking into the window,
+you would have imagined that Mr. SCREW GRABB was a very Apostle of
+clean linen, with a mission to clothe a benighted world, with shirts;
+and that his Temple, "_the_ ONLY UNIVERSAL SHIRT STORE," was the
+most important place on the face of the globe. There, too, appeared
+eloquent appeals to passers-by. These were printed on cards, in immense
+capitals,--"SHIRTS FOR THE MILLION! THE GREAT SHIRT EMPORIUM! WHO WOULD
+BE _without a shirt, when Screw Grab sells them for only_ $1? THIS IS
+_the_ ONLY SHIRT STORE,"--and so on to the end of the chapter.
+
+The conversation which we have recorded, took place in this store, soon
+after 'gas-light' on the evening of Dec. 23d, 1844, between Mr. SCREW
+GRABB and the POOR GIRL, who stood before him, holding a small bundle
+in her arms.
+
+"You surely do not mean to retain my money?" said the girl--and she
+laid one hand against the counter, and attentively surveyed the face of
+Mr. Grabb--"You find fault with my work--"
+
+"Never saw _wuss_ stitchin' in my life," said Grabb.
+
+"But that is no reason why you should refuse to return the money which
+I placed in your hands. Consider, Sir, you will distress me very much.
+I really cannot afford to lose that five dollars,--indeed--"
+
+She turned toward him a face which, impressed as it was with a look of
+extreme distress, was also invested with the light of a clear, calm,
+almost holy beauty. It was the face of a girl of sixteen, whom thought
+and anxiety had ripened into grave and serious womanhood. Her brown
+hair was gathered neatly under her faded straw bonnet, displaying a
+forehead which bore traces of a corroding care; there was light and
+life in her large eyes, light and life without much of hope; there was
+youth on her cheeks and lips; youth fresh and virgin, and unstained by
+the touch of sin.
+
+"Will you give me them four shirts,--s-a-y?" was the answer of
+Grabb,--"them as you has in your bundle there?"
+
+The girl for a moment seemed buried in reflection. May be the thought
+of a dreary winter night and a desolate home was busy at her heart.
+When she raised her head she fixed her eyes full upon the face of Mr.
+Grabb, and said distinctly:
+
+"I will _not_ give you these shirts until you return my money."
+
+"What's that you say? You won't give 'em back--won't you?" and Mr.
+Grabb darted around the counter, yardstick in hand. "We'll see,--we'll
+see. Now just hand 'em over!"
+
+He placed himself between her and the door, and raised the yardstick
+over her head.
+
+The girl retreated step by step, Mr. Grabb advancing as she retreated,
+with the yardstick in his fat hand.
+
+"Give 'em up,--" he seized her arm, and attempted to tear the bundle
+from her grasp. "Give 'em up you ----" he applied an epithet which he
+had heard used by a manager of a theater to the unfortunate girls in
+his employment.
+
+At the word, the young woman retreated into a corner behind the
+counter, her face flushed and her eyes flashing with an almost savage
+light--
+
+"You cowardly villain!" she said, "to insult me because I will not
+permit you to rob me. O, you despicable coward--for shame!"
+
+The look of her eye and curl of her lip by no means pleased the
+corpulent Grabb. He grew red with rage. When he spoke again it was in a
+loud voice and with an emphatic sweep of the yardstick.
+
+"If you don't give 'em up, I'll--I'll break every bone in your body.
+You hussy! You ----! What do you think of yourself--to attempt to rob a
+poor man of his property?"
+
+These words attracted the attention of the passers-by; and in a moment,
+the doorway was occupied by a throng of curious spectators. The poor
+girl, looking over Grabb's shoulders, saw that she was the object of
+the gaze of some dozen pairs of eyes.
+
+"Gentlemen, this hussy has attempted to rob me of my property! I gave
+her stuff sufficient to make five shirts, and she's spoilt 'em so I
+can't sell 'em for old rags, and--and she won't give 'em up."
+
+"If they ain't good for nothing, what d'ye want with 'em?" remarked the
+foremost of the spectators.
+
+But Grabb was determined to bring matters to a crisis.
+
+"Now, look here," he said, holding the yardstick in front of the girl,
+and thus imprisoning her in the corner; "if you don't give 'em up, I'll
+strip the clothes from your back."
+
+The girl turned scarlet in the face; her arms sank slowly to her side;
+the bundle fell from her hands; she burst into tears.
+
+"Shame! shame!" cried one of the spectators.
+
+"It's the way he does business," added a voice in the background. "He
+won't give out any work unless the girl, who applies for it, places
+some money in his hands as a pledge. When the work is brought into the
+store, he pretends that it's spoilt, and keeps the money. That's the
+way he raises capital!"
+
+"What's that you say?" cried Grabb, turning fiercely on the crowd, who
+had advanced some one or two paces into the store. "Who said that?"
+
+A man in a coarse, brown bang-up advanced from the crowd--
+
+"I said it, and I'll stand to it! Ain't you a purty specimen of a
+bald-headed Christian, to try and cheat the poor girl out of her
+hard-airned money?"
+
+"I'll call the police," cried Grabb.
+
+"What a pattern! what a beauty!" continued the man in the brown
+bang-up; "why rotten eggs 'ud be wasted on such a carcass as that!"
+
+"Police! Police!" screamed Grabb,--"Gentlemen, I'd like to know if
+there is any law in this land?"
+
+While this altercation was in progress the poor girl--thoroughly
+ashamed to find herself the center of a public broil--covered her face
+with her hands and wept as if her heart would break.
+
+"Take my arm," said a voice at her side; "there will be a fight. Quick,
+my dear Miss, you must get out of this as quick as possible."
+
+The speaker was a short and slender man, wrapped in a Spanish mantle,
+and his hat was drawn low over his forehead.
+
+The girl seized his arm, and while the crowd formed a circle around
+Grabb and the brown bang-up, they contrived to pass unobserved from the
+store. Presently the poor girl was hurrying along Canal street, her
+hand still clasping the arm of the stranger in the cloak.
+
+"Bad business! Bad business!" he said in a quick, abrupt tone. "That
+Grabb's a scoundrel. Here's Broadway, my dear, and I must bid you
+good-night. Good-night,--good-night."
+
+And he left the poor girl at the corner of Broadway and Canal street.
+He was lost in the crowd ere she was aware of his departure. She was
+left alone, on the street corner, in the midst of that torrent of life;
+and it was not until some moments had elapsed that she could fully
+comprehend her desolate condition.
+
+"It was the last five dollars I had in the world! What can I do! In the
+name of God, what can I do!"
+
+She looked up Broadway--it extended there, one glittering track of
+light.
+
+"Not a friend, and not a dollar in the world!"
+
+She looked down Broadway--far into the distance it extended, its
+million lights over-arched by a dull December sky.
+
+"Not a friend and not a dollar!"
+
+She turned down Broadway with languid and leaden steps. A miserably
+clad and heart-broken girl, she glided among the crowds, which lined
+the street, like a specter through the mazes of a banquet.
+
+Poor girl! Down Broadway, until the Park is passed, and the huge Astor
+House glares out upon the darkness from its hundred windows. Down
+Broadway, until you reach the unfinished pile of Trinity Church, where
+heaps of lumber and rubbish appear among white tombstones. Turn from
+Broadway and stride this narrow street which leads to the dark river:
+your home is there.
+
+Back of Trinity Church, in Greenwich street, we believe, there stands
+on this December night a four storied edifice, tenanted, only a few
+years ago, by a wealthy family. Then it was the palace of a man who
+counted his wealth by hundreds of thousands. Now it is a palace of a
+different sort; look at it, as from garret to cellar it flashes with
+light in every window.
+
+The cellar is the home of ten families.
+
+The first floor is occupied as a beer "saloon;" you can hear men
+getting drunk in three or four languages, if you will only stand by the
+window for a moment.
+
+Twenty persons live on the second floor.
+
+Fifteen make their home on the third floor.
+
+The fourth floor is tenanted by nineteen human beings.
+
+The garret is divided into four apartments; one of these has a
+garret-window to itself, and this is the home of the poor girl.
+
+She ascended the marble staircase which led from the first to the
+fourth floor. At every step her ear was assailed with curses, drunken
+shouts, the cries of children, and a thousand other sounds, which,
+night and day resounded through that palace of rags and wretchedness.
+Feeble and heart-sick she arrived at length in front of the garret
+door, which opened into her home.
+
+She listened in the darkness; all was still within.
+
+"He sleeps," she murmured, "thank God!" and opened the door. All was
+dark within, but presently, with the aid of a match, she lighted a
+candle, and the details of the place were visible. It was a nook of the
+original garret, fenced off by a partition of rough boards. The slope
+of the roof formed its ceiling. The garret window occupied nearly an
+entire side of the place. There was a mattress on the floor, in one
+corner; a small pine table stood beside the partition; and the recess
+of the garret-window was occupied by an old arm-chair.
+
+This chair was occupied by a man whose body, incased in a faded
+wrapper, reminded you of a skeleton placed in a sitting posture. His
+emaciated hands rested on the arms, and his head rested helplessly
+against the back of the chair. His hair was white as snow; it was
+scattered in flakes about his forehead. His face, furrowed in deep
+wrinkles, was lividly pale; it resembled nothing save the face of a
+corpse. His eyes, wide open and fixed as if the hand of death had
+touched him, were centered upon the flame of the candle, while a
+meaningless smile played about his colorless lips.
+
+The girl kissed him on the lips and forehead, but he gave no sign
+of recognition save a faint laugh, which died on the air ere it was
+uttered.
+
+For the poor man, prematurely old and reduced to a mere skeleton, was
+an idiot.
+
+"Oh, my God, and I have not bread to feed him!" No words can describe
+the tone and look with which the poor girl uttered these words.
+
+She flung aside her bonnet and shawl.
+
+Then it might be seen that, in spite of her faded dress, she was a very
+beautiful young woman; not only beautiful in regularity of features,
+but in the whiteness of her shoulders, the fullness of her bust, the
+proportions of her tall and rounded form. Her hair, escaping from the
+ribbon which bound it, streamed freely over her shoulders, and caught
+the rays of the light on every glossy wave.
+
+She leaned her forehead upon her head, and--thought.
+
+Hard she had tried to keep a home for the poor IDIOT, who sat in the
+chair--very hard. She had tried her pencil, and gained bread for
+awhile, thus; but her drawings ceased to command a price at the picture
+store, and this means of subsistence failed her. She had taught music,
+and had been a miserable dependent upon the rich; been insulted by
+their daughters, and been made the object of the insulting offers of
+their sons. And forced at length by the condition of her IDIOT FATHER,
+to remain with him, in their own home--to be constantly near him, day
+and night--she had sought work at the shirt store on Canal street,
+and been robbed of the treasure which she had accumulated through the
+summer; an immense treasure--FIVE DOLLARS.
+
+She had not a penny; there was no bread in the closet; there was no
+fire in the sheet iron stove which stood in one corner; her Idiot
+Father, her iron fate were before her--harsh and bitter realities.
+
+She was thinking.
+
+Apply to those rich relations, who had known her father in days of
+prosperity? No. Better death than that.
+
+She was thinking. Her forehead on her hand, her hair streaming over
+her shoulders, her bosom which had never known even the thought of
+pollution, heaving and swelling within her calico gown--she was
+thinking.
+
+And as she thought, and _thought_ her hair began to burn, and her blood
+to bound rapidly in her veins.
+
+Her face is shaded by her hand, and a portion of her hair falls over
+that hand; therefore you cannot tell her thoughts by the changes of her
+countenance.
+
+I would not like to know her thoughts.
+
+For there is a point of misery, at which but two doors of escape open
+to the gaze of a beautiful woman, who struggles with the last extreme
+of poverty: one door has the GRAVE behind it, and the other,----
+
+Yes, there are some thoughts which it is not good to write on paper. It
+was in the midst of this current of dark and bitter thoughts, that the
+eye of the young woman wandered absently to the faded shawl which she
+had thrown across the table.
+
+"What is this? A letter! Pinned to my shawl--by whom?"
+
+It was indeed a letter, addressed to her, and pinned to her shawl by an
+unknown hand.
+
+She seized it eagerly, and opened it, and read.
+
+Her face, her neck, and the glimpse of her bosom, opening above her
+dress, all became scarlet with the same blush. Still her eyes grew
+brighter as she read the letter, and incoherent ejaculations passed
+from her lips.
+
+The letter was written--so it said--by the man who had taken her from
+the store on Canal street. Its contents we may not guess, save from the
+broken words of the agitated girl.
+
+"'_At twelve o'clock, at_ "THE TEMPLE," _whose street and number you
+will find on the inclosed card_.'"
+
+And a card dropped from the letter upon the table. She seized it
+eagerly and clasped it as though it was so much gold.
+
+"'THE TEMPLE,'" she murmured again, and her eyes instinctively wandered
+to the face of her father.
+
+Then she burst into a flood of tears.
+
+For three hours, while the candle burned toward its socket, she
+meditated upon the contents of that letter.
+
+At last she rose, and took from a closet near the door, a mantilla of
+black velvet, the only garment which the pawnbroker had spared. It
+was old and faded; it was the only relic of better days. She resumed
+her bonnet and wound the mantilla about her shoulders and kissed her
+IDIOT FATHER on the lips and brow. He had fallen into a dull, dreamless
+sleep, and looked like a dead man with his fallen lip and half-shut
+eyes.
+
+"'THE TEMPLE!'" she exclaimed and attentively perused the card.
+
+Then extinguishing the candle, she wound a coverlet about her father's
+form and left him there alone in the garret. She passed the threshold
+and went down the marble stairs. God pity her.
+
+Yes, God pity her!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+"DO THEY ROAR?"
+
+
+At nine o'clock, on the night of December 23d, 1844,----
+
+"Do they roar?" said Israel Yorke, passing his hand through his gray
+whiskers, as he sat at the head of a large table covered with green
+baize.
+
+It was in a large square room, on the second story of his Banking
+House--if Israel's place of business can be designated by that name.
+The gas-light disclosed the floor covered with matting, and the high
+walls, overspread with lithographs of unknown cities and imaginary
+copper-mines. There were also three lithographs of the towns in which
+Israel's principal Banks were situated. There was Chow Bank and Muddy
+Run, and there in all its glory was Terrapin Hollow. In each of these
+distant towns, located somewhere in New Jersey or Pennsylvania--or
+Heaven only knows where--Israel owned a Bank, a live Bank, chartered
+by a State Legislature, and provided with a convenient President and
+Cashier. Israel was a host of stockholders in himself. He had an office
+in New York for the redemption of the notes of the three Banks; it is
+in the room above this office that we now behold him.
+
+"Do they roar?" he asked, and arranged his spectacles on his turn up
+nose, and grinned to himself until his little black eyes shone again.
+
+"Do they roar?" answered the voice of Israel's man of business, who sat
+at the lower end of the green baize table--"Just go to the window and
+hear 'em! Hark! There it goes again. It sounds like fourth of July."
+
+Truth to say, a strange ominous murmur came from the street--a murmur
+composed of about an equal quantity of curses and groans.
+
+"There's six thousand of 'em," said the man of business; "The street
+is black with 'em. And all sorts o' nasty little boys go about with
+placards on which such words are inscribed: '_Here's an orphan--one
+o' them that was cheated by Israel Yorke and his Three Banks._' Hark!
+There it goes again!"
+
+The man of business was a phlegmatic individual of about forty years;
+a dull heavy face adorned with green spectacles, and propped by a
+huge black stock and a pair of immense shirt collars. Mr. FETCH was
+indeed Israel's MAN; he in some measure supplied the place of the late
+lamented Jedediah Buggles, Esq., 'whose dignity of character and strict
+integrity,' etc., etc., (for the rest, see obituaries on Buggles in the
+daily papers).
+
+"Fetch, they _do_ roar," responded Israel. "Was there notice of the
+failure in the afternoon papers?"
+
+"Had it put in myself. Dilated upon the robbery which was committed on
+you last night, in the cars; and spoke of your disposition to redeem
+the notes of Chow Bank, Muddy Run and Terrapin Hollow, as soon as--_you
+could make it convenient_."
+
+"Yes, Fetch, in about a week these notes can be bought for ten cents
+on the dollar," calmly remarked Yorke, "they're mostly in the hands of
+market people, mechanics, day-laborers, servant-maids, and those kind
+of people, who _can't afford to wait_. Well, Fetch, what were they
+sellin' at to-day?"
+
+"Three shillings on the dollar. You know we only failed this mornin',"
+answered Fetch.
+
+"Yes, yes, about a week will do it"--Israel drew forth a gold pencil,
+and made a calculation on a card,--"In about a week they'll be down
+to ten cents on the dollar. We must buy 'em in quietly at that rate;
+our friends on Wall street will help us, you know. Well, let's see how
+the profit will stand--there are in circulation $300,000 of Chow Bank
+notes--"
+
+"And $150,000 of Muddy Run," interrupted Fetch.
+
+"And $200,000 of Terrapin Hollow," continued Yorke,--"Now supposin'
+that there are altogether $500,000--a half million of these notes now
+in circulation--we can buy 'em in _quietly_ you know, at ten cents on
+the dollar, for some--some--yes, $50,000 will do it. That will leave a
+clear profit of $450,000. Not so bad,--eh, Fetch?"
+
+"But you forget how much it cost you to get the charters of these
+banks--" interrupted Fetch. "The amount of champagne that I myself
+forwarded to Trenton and to Harrisburg, would float a small brig.
+Then there was some ready money that you loaned to Members of
+Legislature--put that down Mr. Yorke."
+
+"We'll say $5000 for champagne, and $25,000 loaned to Members of
+Legislature (though they don't bring anything near that now), why we
+have a total of $25,000 for _expenses incurred in procuring charters_.
+Deduct that from $450,000 and you still have $425,000. A neat sum,
+Fetch."
+
+"Yes, but you must look to your character. You must come out of it
+with flyin' colors. After nearly all the notes have been bought in, by
+ourselves or our agents, we must announce that having recovered from
+our late reverses, we are now prepared to redeem all our notes, dollar
+for dollar."
+
+"And Fetch, if we manage it right, there'll be only $10,000 worth
+left in circulation, at the time we make the announcement. That will
+take $10,000 from our total of $425,000, leavin' us still the sum of
+$415,000. A pretty sum, Fetch."
+
+"You may as well strike off that $15,000 for extra
+expenses,--paragraphs in some of the newspapers,--grand juries, and
+other little incidents of that kind. O, you'll come out of it with
+_character_."
+
+"Ghoul of the Blerze will assail me, eh?" said Israel, fidgeting in
+his chair: "He'll talk o' nothin' else than Chow Bank, Muddy Run and
+Terrapin Hollow, for months to come,--eh, Fetch?"
+
+"For years, for years," responded Fetch, "It will be nuts for Ghoul."
+
+"And that cursed affair last night!" continued Yorke, as though
+thinking aloud, "Seventy-one thousand gone at one slap."
+
+Fetch looked funnily at his principal from beneath his gold spectacles:
+"No? It was real then? I thought--"
+
+Mr. Yorke abruptly consigned the thoughts of Mr. Fetch to a personage
+who shall be nameless, and then continued:
+
+"It was _real_,--a _bona fide_ robbery. Seventy-one thousand at a slap!
+By-the-bye, Fetch, has Blossom been here to-night--Blossom the police
+officer?"
+
+"Couldn't get in; too much of a crowd in the street."
+
+"I did not intend him to come by the front door. He was to come up the
+back way,--about this hour--he gave me some hope this afternoon. _That_
+was an unfortunate affair last night!"
+
+"How they roar! Listen!" said Fetch, bending himself into a listening
+attitude.
+
+And again that ominous sound came from the street without,--the
+combined groans and curses of six thousand human beings.
+
+"Like buffaloes!" quietly remarked Mr. Yorke.
+
+"Like demons!" added Mr. Fetch. "Hear 'em."
+
+"Was there much fuss to-day, when we suspended, Fetch?"
+
+"Quantities of market people, mechanics, widows and servant maids,"
+said the man of business. "I should think you'd stood a pretty good
+chance of being torn to pieces, if you'd been visible. Had this
+happened south, you'd have been tarred and feathered. Here you'd only
+be tore to pieces."
+
+A step was heard in the back part of the room, and in a moment BLOSSOM,
+in his pictorial face and bear-skin over-coat, appeared upon the scene.
+
+"What is the matter with your head?" asked Mr. Fetch,--"Is that a
+handkerchief or a towel?" He pointed to something like a turban, which
+Poke-Berry Blossom wore under his glossy hat.
+
+Blossom sunk sullenly into a chair, without a word.
+
+"What's the matter?" exclaimed Yorke, "Have you--"
+
+"Suppose you had sixteen inches taken out of yer skull," responded
+Blossom in a sullen tone, "You'd know what was the matter. Thunder!" he
+added, "this is a rum world!"
+
+"Did you--" again began Yorke, brushing his gray whiskers and fidgeting
+in his chair.
+
+"Yes I did. I tracked 'em to a groggery up town airly this evenin'.
+I had 'em all alone, to myself, up stairs. I caught the young 'un
+examinin' the valise--I seed the _dimes_ with my own eyes. I--"
+
+"You arrested them?" gasped Yorke.
+
+"How could I, when I ain't a real police, and hadn't any warrant? I
+did grapple with 'em; but the young 'un got out on the roof with the
+valise, and I was left to manage the old 'un as best I could. I tried
+to make him b'lieve that I had a detachment down stairs, but he gi'n me
+a lick over the top-knot that made me see Fourth of July, I tell you.
+There I laid, I don't know how long. When I got my senses, they was
+gone."
+
+"But you pursued them?" asked Yorke, with a nervous start.
+
+"With a hole in my head big enough to put a market-basket in?"
+responded Blossom, with a pitying smile, "what do you think I'm made
+of? Do you think I'm a Japan mermaid or an Egyptian mummy?"
+
+It will be perceived that Mr. Blossom said nothing about the HOUSE
+which stood next to the YELLOW MUG; he did not even mention the latter
+place by name. Nor did he relate how he pursued Nameless into this
+house, and how after an unsuccessful pursuit, he returned into the
+garret of the Mug, where Ninety-One, (who for a moment or two had
+been hiding upon the roof,) grappled with him, and laid him senseless
+by a well planted blow. Upon these topics Mr. Blossom maintained a
+mysterious silence. His reasons for this course may hereafter appear.
+
+"And so you've given up the affair?" said Yorke, sinking back into his
+chair.
+
+Now the truth is, that Blossom, chafed by his inquiries and mortified
+at his defeat, was cogitating an important matter to himself--"Can I
+make anything by givin' Israel into the hands of the mob? I might lead
+'em up the back stairs. Lord! how they'd make the fur fly! _But who'd
+pay me?_" The italicized query troubled Blossom and made him thoughtful.
+
+"And so the seventy thousand's clean gone," exclaimed Fetch, in a
+mournful tone: "It makes one melancholy to think of it."
+
+"Pardon me, Mr. Yorke, for this intrusion," said a bland voice, "but
+I have followed Mr. Blossom to this room. I caught sight of him a
+few moments ago as he left Broadway, and tried to speak to him as he
+pushed through the crowd in front of your door, but in vain. So being
+exceedingly anxious to see him, I was forced to follow him up stairs,
+into your room."
+
+"Colonel Tarleton!" ejaculated Yorke.
+
+"The handsom' Curnel!" chorused Blossom.
+
+It was indeed the handsome Colonel, who with his white coat buttoned
+tightly over his chest and around his waist, stood smiling and bowing
+behind the chair of Berry Blossom.
+
+"You did not tell any one of the back door," cried Yorke,--"If you
+did--"
+
+"Why then, (you were about to remark I believe,) we should have a great
+many more persons in the room, than it would be pleasant for you to
+see, _just now_."
+
+The Colonel made one of his most elegant bows as he made this remark.
+Mr. Yorke bit his nails but made no reply.
+
+"Mr. Blossom, a word with you." The Colonel took the police officer by
+the arm and led him far back into that part of the room most remote
+from the table.
+
+"What's up, Mister?" asked Blossom, arranging his turban.
+
+As they stood there, in the gloom which pervaded that part of the room,
+the Colonel answered him with a low and significant whisper:
+
+"Do you remember that old ruffian who was charged last night in the
+cars with--"
+
+"You mean old Ninety-One, as he calls hisself," interrupted
+Blossom--"Well, I guess I do."
+
+"Very good," continued the Colonel.--"Now suppose this ruffian had
+concealed himself in the house of a wealthy man, with the purpose of
+committing a robbery this very night!"
+
+Blossom was all ears.
+
+"Well, well,--drive ahead. Suppose,--suppose,"--he said impatiently.
+
+"Not so fast. Suppose, further, that a _gentleman_ who had overheard
+this villain plotting this purposed crime, was to give you full
+information in regard to the affair, could you,--could you,--when
+called upon to give evidence before the court, forget the name of this
+_gentleman_?"
+
+"I'd know no more of him than an unborn baby," eagerly whispered
+Blossom.
+
+"Hold a moment. This gentleman overhears the plot, in the room of a
+_certain house_, not used as a church, precisely. The gentleman does
+not wish to be known as a visitor to _that house_,--you comprehend?
+But in _that house_, he happens to hear the ruffian and his young
+comrade planning this robbery. Himself unseen, he hears their whole
+conversation. He finds out that they intend to enter the house where
+the robbery is to take place, by a false key and a back stairway. Now--"
+
+"You want to know, in straight-for'ard talk," interrupted Blossom,
+"whether, when the case comes to trial, I could remember having
+overheard the convict and the young 'un mesself? There's my hand on
+it, Curnel. Just set me on the track, and you'll find that I'll never
+say one word about you. Beside, I was arter these two covies this very
+night,--I seed 'em with my own eyes, in the garret of the Yellow Mug."
+
+"You did!" cried the Colonel, with an accent of undisguised
+satisfaction. "Then possibly you may remember that you overheard them
+planning this burglary, as you listened behind the garret door?"
+
+"Of course I can," replied Blossom, "I remember it _quite_ plain. Jist
+tell me the number of the house that is to be robbed, and I'll show you
+fireworks."
+
+The Colonel's face was agitated by a smile of infernal delight. Leaving
+Blossom for a moment, he paced the floor, with his finger to his lip.
+
+"Pop and Pill will leave town to-morrow," he muttered to himself, "and
+they'll keep out of the way until the storm blows over. This fellow
+will go to the house of Sowers, inform him of the robbery, a search
+will be made, and Ninety-One discovered in one room, and the corpse
+of Evelyn in the other. Just at that hour I'll happen to be passing
+by, and in the confusion I'll try to secure this youthful secretary of
+Old Sowers. I shall want him for the twenty-fifth of December. As for
+the OTHER, why, Frank must take care of him. Shall Ninety-One come to
+a hint of the murder?"--the Colonel paused and struck his forehead.
+"Head, you have never failed me, and will not fail me now!"
+
+He turned to Blossom, and in low whispers the twain arranged all the
+details of the affair. They conversed together there in the gloom until
+they perfectly understood each other, Blossom turning now and then to
+indulge in a quiet laugh, and the Colonel's dark eyes flashing with
+earnestness, and may be, with the hope of gratified revenge. At length
+they shook hands, and the Colonel approached the table:
+
+"Mr. Yorke, I have the honor to wish you a very good evening," said the
+Colonel, and after a polite bow, he departed.
+
+"I leave him with his serenaders," he muttered as he disappeared. "This
+murder off my hands, and the private secretary in my power, I think I
+will hold the trump card on the Twenty-fifth of December!"
+
+With this muttered exclamation he went down the back stairway.
+
+"Yorke, my genius!" cried Blossom, clapping the financier on the back,
+"if I don't have them $71,000 dollars before twenty-four hours, you
+may call me--you may call me,--most anything you please. By-the-bye,
+did you hear that howl? Good-night, Yorke." And he went down the back
+stairway.
+
+The financier, coughing for breath, (for the hand of Blossom had
+been somewhat emphatic), fixed his gold specs, and brushed his gray
+whiskers, and turning to Mr. Fetch, said gayly,
+
+"He looks as if he was on the right track; don't he, Fetch?"
+
+Fetch said he did; and presently he also retired down the back
+stairway, promising to see his Principal at an early hour on the
+morrow. "How they do roar!" he ejaculated, as he disappeared.
+
+Yorke was alone. He shifted and twisted uneasily in his chair. His
+little black eyes shone with peculiar luster. He sat for a long time
+buried in thought, and at last gave utterance to these words:
+
+"I think I'd better retire until the storm blows over, leaving Fetch to
+bring in my notes, and manage affairs. To what part of the world shall
+I go? Well,--w-e-ll!--Havana, yes, that's the word, Havana! But first I
+must see the result of this Van Huyden matter on the Twenty-fifth, and
+provide myself with a _companion_--a pleasant _companion_ to cheer me
+in my loneliness at Havana. Ah!" the man of money actually breathed an
+amorous sigh,--"_twelve to-night_,--THE TEMPLE!--that's the word."
+
+And in the street without, black with heads, there were at least three
+thousand people who would have cut the throat of Israel, had they once
+laid hands upon him.
+
+"THE TEMPLE!" he again ejaculated, and sinking back in his chair, he
+inserted his thumbs in the arm-holes of his vest, and resigned himself
+to a pleasant dream.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Leaving Israel Yorke for a little while, we will trace the movements,
+and listen to the words of a personage of far different character.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+THE SEVEN VAULTS.
+
+
+About the hour of nine o'clock, on the 23d of December, a gentleman,
+wrapped in the folds of a Spanish mantle, passed along Broadway, on
+his way to the Astor House. Through the glare and glitter, the uproar
+and the motion of that thronged pathway, he passed rapidly along,
+his entire appearance and manner distinguishing him from the crowd.
+As he came into the glare of the brilliantly-lighted windows, his
+face and features, disclosed but for an instant, beneath his broad
+sombrero, made an impression upon those who beheld them, which they
+did not soon forget. That face, unnaturally pale, was lighted by eyes
+that shone with incessant luster; and its almost death-like pallor was
+in strong contrast with his moustache, his beard and hair, all of
+intense blackness. His dark hair, tossed by the winter winds, fell in
+wavy tresses to the collar of his cloak. His movements were quick and
+impetuous, and his stealthy gait, in some respects, reminded you of the
+Indian. Altogether, in a crowd of a thousand you would have singled
+him out as a remarkable man,--one of those whose faces confront you
+at rare intervals, in the church, the street, in the railroad-car, on
+ship-board, and who at first sight elicit the involuntary ejaculation,
+"That man's history I would like to know!"
+
+Arrived at the Astor House he registered his name, GASPAR MANUEL,
+_Havana_.
+
+He had just landed from the Havana steamer.
+
+As he wrote his name on the Hotel book, he uncovered his head, and--by
+the gas light which shone fully on him,--it might be seen that his
+dark hair, which fell to his shoulders, was streaked with threads of
+silver. The vivid brightness of his eyes, the death-like pallor of his
+face, became more perceptible in the strong light; and when he threw
+his cloak aside, you beheld a slender frame, slightly bent in the
+shoulders, clad in a dark frock coat, which, single breasted, and with
+a strait collar, reached to the knees.
+
+His face seemed to indicate the traveler who has journeyed in many
+lands, seen all phases of life, thought much, suffered deeply, and at
+times grown sick of all that life can inflict or bestow; his attire
+indicated a member of some religious organization, perchance a member
+of that society founded by Loyola, which has sometimes honored, but
+oftener blasphemed, the name of JESUS. Directing his trunks,--there
+were some three or four, huge in size, and strangely strapped and
+banded--to be sent to his room, Gaspar Manuel resumed his cloak and
+sombrero, and left the hall of the hotel.
+
+It was an hour before he appeared again. As he emerged from one of
+the corridors into the light of the hall, you would have scarcely
+recognized the man. In place of his Jesuit-like attire, he wore a
+fashionably made black dress coat, a snow-white vest, black pants and
+neatly-fitting boots. There was a diamond in the center of his black
+scarf, and a massy gold chain across his vest. And a diamond even more
+dazzling than that which shone upon his scarf, sparkled from the little
+finger of his left-hand.
+
+But the change in his attire only made that face, framed in hair and
+beard, black as jet, seem more lividly pale. It was a strange faded
+face,--you would have given the world to have known the meaning of that
+thought which imparted its incessant fire to his eyes.
+
+Winding his cloak about his slender frame, and placing his sombrero
+upon his dark hair, he left the hotel. Passing with his quick active
+step along Broadway, he turned to the East river, and soon entered a
+silent and deserted neighboring house. Silent and deserted, because it
+stands in the center of a haunt of trade, which in the day-time, mad
+with the fever of traffic, was at night as silent and deserted as a
+desert or a tomb.
+
+He paused before an ancient dwelling-house, which, wedged in between
+huge warehouses, looked strangely out of place, in that domain of
+mammon. Twenty-one years before, that dwelling-house had stood in
+the very center of the fashionable quarter of the city. Now the
+aristocratic mansions which once lined the street had disappeared;
+and it was left alone, amid the lofty walls and closed windows of the
+warehouses which bounded it on either hand, and gloomily confronted it
+from the opposite side of the narrow street.
+
+It was a double mansion--the hall door in the center--ranges of
+apartments on either side. Its brick front, varied by marble over the
+windows, bore the marks of time. And the wide marble steps, which
+led from the pavement to the hall door--marble steps once white as
+snow--could scarcely be distinguished from the brown sandstone of the
+pavement. In place of a bell, there was an unsightly-looking knocker,
+in the center of the massive door; and its roof, crowned with old
+fashioned dormer-windows, and heavy along the edges with cumbrous
+woodwork, presented a strange contrast to the monotonous flat roofs of
+the warehouses on either side.
+
+Altogether, that old-fashioned dwelling looked as much out of place in
+that silent street of trade, as a person attired in the costume of the
+Revolution,--powdered wig, ruffled shirt, wide skirted coat, breeches
+and knee-buckles,--would look, surrounded by gentlemen attired in the
+business-like and practical costume of the present day. And while the
+monotonous edifices on either side, only spoke of Trade--the Rate of
+Exchange--the price of Dry Goods,--the old dwelling-house had something
+about it which breathed of the associations of Home. There had been
+marriages in that house, and deaths: children had first seen the light
+within its walls, and coffins, containing the remains of the fondly
+loved, had emerged from its wide hall door: dramas of every-day life
+had been enacted there: and there, perchance, had also been enacted one
+of those tragedies of every-day life which differ so widely from the
+tragedies of fiction, in their horrible truth.
+
+There was a story about the old dwelling which, as you passed it in
+the day-time, when it stood silent and deserted, while all around was
+deafening uproar, made your heart dilate with involuntary curiosity to
+know the history of the ancient fabric, and the history of those who
+had lived and died within its walls.
+
+Gaspar Manuel ascended the marble steps, and with the knocker sounded
+an alarm, which echoing sullenly through the lofty hall, was shortly
+answered by the opening of the door.
+
+In the light which flashed upon the pallid visage of Gaspar Manuel,
+appeared an aged servant, clad in gray livery faced with black velvet.
+
+"Take these letters to your master, and tell him that I am come," said
+Gaspar in a prompt and decided tone, marked, although but slightly,
+with a foreign accent. He handed a package to the servant as he spoke.
+
+"But how do you know that my master is at home?"--The servant shaded
+his eyes with his withered hand, and gazed hesitatingly into that
+strange countenance, so lividly pale, with eyes unnaturally bright and
+masses of waving hair, black as jet.
+
+"Ezekiel Bogart lives here, does he not?"
+
+"That is my master's name."
+
+"Take these letters to him then at once, and tell him I am waiting."
+
+Perchance the soft and musical intonations of the stranger's voice had
+its effect upon the servant, for he replied, "Come in, sir," and led
+the way into the spacious hall, which was dimly lighted by a hanging
+lamp of an antique pattern.
+
+"Step in there, sir, and presently I will bring you an answer."
+
+The aged servant opened a door on the left side of the hall and Gaspar
+Manuel entered a square apartment, which had evidently formed a part of
+a larger room. The walls were panneled with oak; a cheerful wood fire
+burned in the old-fashioned arch; an oaken table, without covering of
+any sort, stood in the center; and oaken benches were placed along the
+walls. Taking the old chair,--it stood by the table,--Gaspar Manuel,
+by the light of the wax candle on the table, discovered that the room
+was already occupied by some twenty or thirty persons, who sat upon the
+oak benches, as silent as though they had been carved there. Persons of
+all classes, ages, and with every variety of visage and almost every
+contrast of apparel. There was the sleek dandy of Broadway; there the
+narrow-faced vulture of Wall street; there some whose decayed attire
+reminded you either of poets out of favor with the Magazines, or of
+police officers out of office: one whose half Jesuit attire brought
+to mind a Puseyite clergyman; and one or two whose self-complacent
+visages reminded one of a third-rate lawyer, who had just received his
+first fee; in a word, types of the varied and contrasted life which
+creeps or throbs within the confines of the large city. Among the
+crowd, were several whose rotund corporations and evident disposition
+to shake hands with themselves, indicated the staid man of business,
+whose capital is firm in its foundation, and duly recognized in the
+solemn archives of the Bank. A man of gray hairs, clad in rags, sat in
+a corner by himself; there was a woman with a vail over her face; a boy
+with half developed form, and lip innocent of hair: it was, altogether,
+a singular gathering.
+
+The dead silence which prevailed was most remarkable. Not a word was
+said. Not one of those persons seemed to be aware of the existence of
+the others. As motionless as the oak benches on which they sat, they
+were waiting to see Ezekiel Bogart, and this at the unusual hour of ten
+at night.
+
+Who was Ezekiel Bogart? This was a question often asked, but which the
+denizens of Wall street found hard to answer. He was not a merchant,
+nor a banker, nor a lawyer, nor a gentleman of leisure, although in
+some respects he seemed a combination of all.
+
+He occupied the old-fashioned dwelling; was seen at all sorts of places
+at all hours; and was visited by all sorts of people at seasons most
+unusual. Thus much at least was certain. But what he was precisely,
+what he exactly followed, what the sum of his wealth, and who were
+his relations,--these were questions shadowed in a great deal more
+mystery than the reasons which induce a Washington Minister of State to
+sanction a worn-out claim, of which he is at once the judge, lawyer and
+(under the rose) sole proprietor.
+
+The transactions of Ezekiel Bogart were quite extensive: they involved
+much money and ramified through all the arteries of the great social
+world of New York. But the exact nature of these transactions? All was
+doubt,--no one could tell.
+
+So much did the mystery of Mr. Bogart's career puzzle the knowing ones
+of Wall street, that one gentleman of the Green Board went quite crazy
+on the subject,--after the fourth bottle of champagne--and offered to
+bet Erie Rail-road stock against New Jersey copper stock, that no one
+could prove that Bogart had ever been born.
+
+"_Who_ IS _Ezekiel Bogart_?"
+
+No doubt every one of the persons here assembled, in the oak panneled
+room, can return some sort of answer to this question; but will not
+their answers contradict each other, and render Ezekiel more mythical
+than ever?
+
+"Sir, this way," said the aged servant, opening the door and beckoning
+to Gaspar Manuel.
+
+Gaspar followed the old man, and leaving the room, ascended the oaken
+staircase, whose banisters were fashioned of solid mahogany.
+
+On the second floor he opened a door,--"In there, sir," and crossing
+the threshold, Gaspar Manuel found himself in the presence of Ezekiel
+Bogart.
+
+It was a square apartment, lined with shelves from the ceiling to the
+floor, and illumined by a lamp, which hanging from the ceiling, shed
+but a faint and mysterious light through the place. In the center was
+a large square table, whose green baize surface was half concealed by
+folded packages, opened letters, and huge volumes, bound in dingy buff.
+Without windows, and warmed by heated air, this room was completely
+fire-proof--for the contents of those shelves were too precious to be
+exposed to the slightest chance of destruction.
+
+In an arm-chair, covered with red morocco, and placed directly beneath
+the light, sat Ezekiel Bogart; a man whom we may as well examine
+attentively, for we shall not soon see his like again. His form bent
+in the shoulders, yet displaying marks of muscular power, was clad
+in a loose wrapper of dark cloth, with wide sleeves, lined with red.
+A dark skull-cap covered the crown of his head; and a huge green
+shade, evidently worn to protect his eyes from the light, completely
+concealed his eyes and nose, and threw its shadow over his mouth and
+chin. A white cravat, wound about his throat in voluminous folds, half
+concealed his chin; and his right hand--sinewy, yet colorless as the
+hand of a corpse--which was relieved by the crimson lining of the large
+sleeve--was laid upon an open letter.
+
+Gaspar Manuel seated himself in a chair opposite this singular figure,
+and observed him attentively without uttering a word. And Ezekiel
+Bogart, whose eyes were protected by the huge green shade, seemed for a
+moment to study with some earnestness, the pallid face of Gaspar Manuel.
+
+"My name is Ezekiel Bogart," he spoke in a voice so low as to be
+scarcely audible,--"and I am the General Agent of Martin Fulmer."
+
+He paused as if awaiting a reply from Gaspar Manuel, but Gaspar Manuel
+did not utter a word.
+
+"You come highly recommended by Mr. John Grubb, who is Mr. Fulmer's
+agent on the Pacific coast," continued Ezekiel. "He especially
+commends you to my kindness and attention, in the letter which I
+hold in my hand. He desires me to procure you an early interview
+with my principal, Dr. Martin Fulmer. He also states that you have
+important information in your possession, in regard to certain lands
+in the vicinity of the Jesuit Mission of San Luis, near the Pacific
+coast,--lands purchased some years ago, from the Mexican government, by
+Dr. Martin Fulmer. Now, in the absence of the Doctor, I will be most
+happy to converse with you on the subject"--
+
+"And I will be happy to converse on the subject," exclaimed Gaspar, in
+his low voice and with a slight but significant smile, "but first I
+must see Dr. Martin Fulmer."
+
+Ezekiel gave a slight start--
+
+"But you may not be able to see Dr. Martin Fulmer for some days," he
+said. "His movements are uncertain; it is at times very difficult to
+procure an interview with him."
+
+"I must see him," replied Gaspar Manuel in a decided voice, "and before
+the Twenty-Fifth of December."
+
+Again Ezekiel started:
+
+"Soh! He knows of the Twenty-Fifth!" he muttered. After a moment's
+hesitation he said aloud: "This land which the Doctor bought from
+the Mexican government, and which he sent John Grubb to overlook, is
+fertile, is it not?"
+
+Gaspar Manuel answered in a low voice, whose faintest tones were marked
+with a clear and impressive emphasis:
+
+"The deserted mission house of San Luis stands in the center of a
+pleasant valley, encircled by fertile hills. Its walls of intermingled
+wood and stone are almost buried from view by the ever-green foliage
+of the massive trees which surround it. Once merry with the hum of
+busy labor, and echoing with the voice of prayer and praise, it is
+now silent as a tomb. Its vineyards and its orchards are gone to
+decay,--orchards rich with the olive and the apple, the pomegranate
+and the orange, stand neglected and forsaken, under an atmosphere as
+calm, a climate as delicious as southern Italy. And the hills and
+fields, which once produced the plantain and banana, cocoanut, indigo
+and sugar-cane--which once resounded with the voices of hundreds of
+Indian laborers, who yielded to the rule of the Jesuit Fathers--are
+now as sad and silent as a desert. And yet a happier sight you cannot
+conceive than the valley of the San Luis, in the lap of which stands
+the deserted mission-house. It is watered by two rivulets, which,
+flowing from the gorges of distant hills, join near the mission-house,
+into a broad and tranquil river, whose shores are always bright with
+the verdure of spring. The valley is surrounded, as I have said, by a
+range of rolling hills, which formerly yielded, by their inexhaustible
+fertility, abundant wealth to the Fathers. Behind these, higher and
+abrupt hills arise, clad with ever-green forests. In the far distance,
+rise the white summits of the Sierra Nevada."
+
+"This mission was one of the many established between the Sierra Nevada
+and the Pacific coast," interrupted Ezekiel, "by zealous missionaries
+of the Papal Church. If I mistake not, having obtained large grants
+of land from the Mexican government, they gathered the Indians into
+missions, reared huge mission-houses, and employed the Indians in the
+cultivation of the soil."
+
+"Not only in California, on the west side of Sierra Nevada, but also
+far to the east of that range of 'Snow Mountains' abounded these
+missions, ruled by the Fathers and supported by the labor of the
+submissive Indians. But now, for hundreds and hundreds of miles, you
+will find the mission-houses silent and deserted. The rule of the
+Fathers passed away in 1836--in one of the thousand revolutions of
+Mexico--the missions passed into the hands of private individuals, and
+in some cases the Indians were transferred with the land."
+
+"But the mission-house of San Luis?"
+
+"Is claimed by powerful members of the Society of Jesus, who residing
+in the city of Mexico, have managed to keep a quiet hold upon the
+various governments, which have of late years abounded in that unhappy
+republic. They claim the mission-house and the lands, originally
+granted sixty years ago, to Brothers of their order by the Government,
+and they claim certain lands, not named in the original grant."
+
+He paused, but Ezekiel Bogart completed the sentence:
+
+"Lands purchased some years since, from the Government by Dr. Martin
+Fulmer? Is their claim likely to be granted?"
+
+"That is a question upon which I will be most happy to converse with
+Dr. Martin Fulmer," was the bland reply of Gaspar Manuel.
+
+"These lands are fertile--that is, as fertile as the lands immediately
+attached to the mission?"
+
+"Barren, barren as Zahara," replied Gaspar. "A thousand acres in all,
+they are bounded by desolate hills, desolate of foliage, and broken
+into ravines and gorges, by mountain streams. You stand upon one of the
+hills, and survey the waste which constitutes Martin Fulmer's lands,
+and you contrast them with the mission lands, and feel as though Zahara
+and Eden stood side by side before you. A gloomier sight cannot be
+imagined."
+
+"And yet," said Ezekiel, "these lands are situated but a few leagues
+from the mission-house. It is strange that the Jesuit Brothers should
+desire to possess such a miserable desert. Do you imagine their
+motives?"
+
+"It is about _their motives_ that I desire to speak with Dr. Martin
+Fulmer," and Gaspar shaded his eyes with the white hand which blazed
+with the diamond ring.
+
+There was a pause, and beneath his uplifted hand, Gaspar Manuel
+attentively surveyed Ezekiel Bogart, while Ezekiel Bogart, as earnestly
+surveyed Gaspar Manuel, under the protection of the green shade which
+concealed his eyes.
+
+"You seem to have a great many visitors to-night," said Gaspar, resting
+his arm on the table and his forehead on his hand; "allow me to ask, is
+it usual to transact business, at such a late hour, in this country?"
+
+"The business transacted by Dr. Martin Fulmer, differs widely from the
+business of Wall street," replied Ezekiel, dryly.
+
+"The property of Gulian Van Huyden, has by this time doubled itself?"
+asked Gaspar, still keeping his eyes on the table. Ezekiel started,
+but Gaspar continued, as though thinking aloud--"Let me see: at the
+time of his death, the estate was estimated at two millions of dollars.
+Of this $1,251,000 was invested in real estate in the city of New
+York; $100,000 in bank and other kinds of stock; $50,000 in lands
+in the Western country; $1,000 in a tract of one thousand acres in
+Pennsylvania; and $458,000 in bank notes and gold. Then the Van Huyden
+mansion and grounds were valued at $150,000. Are my figures correct,
+sir?"
+
+As though altogether amazed by the minute knowledge which Gaspar
+Manuel, seemed to possess, in regard to the Van Huyden estate, Ezekiel
+did not reply.
+
+"By this time this great estate has no doubt doubled, perhaps trebled
+itself."
+
+Ezekiel raised his hand to his mouth, and preserved a statue-like
+silence.
+
+"This room, which is no doubt vaulted and fire-proof, contains I
+presume, all the important records, title-deeds and other papers
+relating to the estate."
+
+Ezekiel rose from his chair, and slowly lighted a wax candle which
+stood upon the table. Gathering the dark wrapper, lined with scarlet,
+about his tall form which seemed bent with age, he took the silver
+candlestick in his right hand, and swept aside a curtain which
+concealed the shelves behind his chair. A narrow doorway was disclosed.
+
+"Will you step this way, for a few moments, sir?" he said, pointing to
+the doorway, as he held the light above his head, thus throwing the
+shadow of the green shade completely over his face.
+
+Gaspar Manuel without a word, rose and followed him. They entered a
+room or rather vault, resembling in the general features the one which
+they had left. It was racked and shelved; the floor was brick and the
+shelves groaned under the weight of carefully arranged papers.
+
+"This room or vault, without windows as you see, and rendered secure,
+beyond a doubt, from all danger of robbery or of fire, is one of
+seven," said Ezekiel. "In this room are kept all title deeds and
+papers, which relate to the THOUSAND ACRES in Pennsylvania."
+
+"The Thousand acres in Pennsylvania!" echoed Gaspar, "surely all these
+documents and papers, do not relate to that tract, which Van Huyden
+originally purchased for one thousand dollars?"
+
+"Twenty-one years ago, they could have been purchased for a thousand
+dollars," answered Ezekiel: "twenty-one years, to a country like this,
+is the same as five hundred to Europe. Those lands could not now be
+purchased for twenty millions."
+
+"Twenty millions!"
+
+"They comprise inexhaustible mines of coal and iron--the richest in the
+state," answered Ezekiel, quietly, and drawing a curtain, he led the
+way into a second vault.
+
+"Here," he said, holding the light above his head, so that its rays
+fell full upon the pallid face of Gaspar, while his own was buried in
+shadow; "here are kept all papers and title-deeds, which relate to
+the lands in the western country--lands purchased for fifty thousand
+dollars, at a time when Ohio was a thinly settled colony and all the
+region further west a wilderness--but lands which now are distributed
+through five states, and which, dotted with villages, rich in mines and
+tenanted by thousands, return an annual rent of,----"
+
+He paused.
+
+"Of I do not care to say how many dollars. Enough, perhaps, to buy a
+German prince or two. This way, sir."
+
+Passing through a narrow doorway, they entered a third vault, arched
+and shelved like the other.
+
+"This place is devoted to the Van Huyden mansion," said Ezekiel,
+pointing to the well-filled shelves. "It was worth $150,000 twenty-one
+years ago, but now a flourishing town has sprung up in the center of
+its lands; mills and manufactories arise in its valleys; a population
+of five thousand souls exists, where twenty-one years ago there were
+not two hundred souls, all told. And these five thousand are laboring
+night and day, not so much for themselves as to increase the wealth of
+the Van Huyden estate."
+
+"And all this is estimated at,----," began Gaspar.
+
+"We will not say," quietly responded Ezekiel. "Here are the title-deeds
+of the town, of the mansion, of manufactory and mill, all belong to the
+estate; not one of the five thousand souls owns one inch of the ground
+on which they toil, or one shingle of the roof beneath which they
+sleep."
+
+They entered the fourth vault.
+
+"This is dedicated to the 'Real Estate in the city of New York,'"
+said Ezekiel--"worth $1,521,000, twenty-one years ago, and now--well,
+well--New York twenty-one years ago was the presumptuous rival of
+Philadelphia. She is now the city of the Continent. And this real
+estate is located in the most thriving portions of the city--among
+the haunts of trade near the Battery, and in the region of splendid
+mansions up town."
+
+"And you would not like to name the usual revenue?"--a smile crossed
+the pale visage of Gaspar Manuel.
+
+Ezekiel led the way into the fifth vault.
+
+"Matters in regard to Banks and bank stock are kept here," he said,
+showing the light of the candle upon the well laden shelves--"Rather
+an uncertain kind of property. The United States' Bank made a sad
+onslaught upon these shelves. But let us go into the next room."
+
+And they went into the sixth room.
+
+"This is our bank," said Ezekiel; "that is to say, the Treasury of the
+Van Huyden estate, in which we keep our _specie basis_. You perceive
+the huge iron safe which occupies nearly one-half of the apartment?
+Dr. Martin Fulmer carries the Key of course, and with that Key he can
+perchance, at any moment, command the destinies of the commercial
+world. A golden foundation is a solid foundation, as the world goes."
+
+As though for the moment paralyzed, by the revelation of the immense
+wealth of the Van Huyden estate, Gaspar Manuel stood motionless as a
+statue, resting one arm upon the huge safe and at the same time resting
+his forehead in his hand.
+
+"We will now pass into the seventh apartment," said Ezekiel, and in a
+moment they stood in the last vault of the seven. "It is arched and
+shelved, you perceive, like the others; and the shelves are burdened
+with carefully-arranged papers----"
+
+"Title-deeds, I presume, title-deeds and mortgages?" interrupted Gaspar
+Manuel.
+
+"No," answered Ezekiel, suffering the rays of the candle to fall upon
+the crowded shelves. "Those shelves contain _briefs_ of the personal
+history of permanent persons of this city, of many parts of the Union,
+I may say, of many parts of the globe. Sketches of the personal
+history of prominent persons, and of persons utterly obscure: records
+of remarkable facts, in the history of particular families: brief but
+interesting portraitures of incidents, societies, governments and men;
+the contents of those shelves, sir, is knowledge, and knowledge that,
+in the grasp of a determined man, would be a fearful Power. For," he
+turned and fixed his gaze on Gaspar Manuel; "for you stand in the
+Secret Police Department of the Van Huyden estate."
+
+These last words, pronounced with an emphasis of deep significance,
+evidently aroused an intense curiosity in the breast of Gaspar Manuel.
+
+"Secret Police Department!" he echoed, his dark eyes flashing with
+renewed luster.
+
+"Even so," dryly responded Ezekiel, "for the Van Huyden estate is not
+a secret society like the Jesuits, nor a corporation like Trinity
+Church, nor a government like the United States or Great Britain, but
+it is a _Government based upon Money and controlled by the Iron Will
+of One Man_. A Government based, I repeat it, upon incredible wealth,
+and absolutely in the control of one man, who for twenty-one years,
+has devoted his whole soul to the administration of the singular and
+awful Power intrusted to him. Such a Government needs a Secret Police,
+ramifying through all the arteries of the social world--and you now
+stand in the office of that wide-spread and almost ubiquitous Police."
+
+"A secret society may be disturbed by internal dissensions," said
+Gaspar Manuel, as though thinking aloud; "a government may be crippled
+by party jealousies, but this Government of the Van Huyden Estate,
+based upon money, is simply controlled by one man, who knows his mind,
+who sees his way clear, whose will is deepened by a conviction--perhaps
+a fanaticism--as unrelenting as death itself. Ah! the influence of such
+a Government is fearful, nay horrible, to contemplate!"
+
+"It is, it is indeed," said Ezekiel, in a low and mournful voice; "and
+the responsibility of Dr. Martin Fulmer, most solemn and terrible."
+
+"But what would become of this Government, were Dr. Martin Fulmer to
+die before the 25th of December?" asked Gaspar Manuel.
+
+"But Dr. Martin Fulmer will not die before the 25th of December,"
+responded Ezekiel, in a tone of singular emphasis.
+
+"And this immense power will drop from his grasp on the 10th of
+December," continued Gaspar Manuel. "Who will succeed him? Into whose
+hands will it fall--this incredible power?"
+
+"Your question will be answered on the 25th of December," slowly
+responded Ezekiel, and motioning to Gaspar, he retraced his steps
+through the six vaults or apartments, and presently stood in the first
+of the seven vaults, where we first beheld him.
+
+He seated himself in the huge arm-chair, while Gaspar Manuel, resuming
+his cloak and sombrero, stood ready to depart.
+
+"Now that I have given you some revelation of the immense resources of
+the Van Huyden Estate," said Ezekiel, as he attentively surveyed that
+cloaked and motionless figure; "you will, I presume, have no objection
+to converse with me in regard to the lands on the Pacific, as freely
+and as fully, as though you stood face to face with Dr. Martin Fulmer?"
+
+"Pardon," said Gaspar Manuel with a low brow, "the facts in my
+possession are for the ear of Dr. Martin Fulmer, and for his ear alone."
+
+"Very well, sir," replied Ezekiel, in a tone of impatience, "as you
+please. Call here to-morrow at--" he named the hour--"and you shall see
+Dr. Martin Fulmer."
+
+"I will be here at the hour," and bidding good-night! to Ezekiel,
+Gaspar bowed and moved to the door. He paused for a moment on the
+threshold----
+
+"Pardon me, sir, but I would like to ask you a single question."
+
+"Well, sir."
+
+"I am curious to know what has induced you, to disclose to me--almost
+an entire stranger--the secrets and resources of the Van Huyden Estate?"
+
+"Sir," responded Ezekiel Bogart, in a voice which deep and stern, was
+imbued with the consciousness of Power; "you will excuse me from giving
+you a direct reply. But you would not have crossed the threshold of
+any one of the seven apartments, had I not been conscious, that it is
+utterly out of your power, to _abuse_ the knowledge which you have
+obtained."
+
+Again Gaspar Manuel bowed, and without a word, left the room.
+
+Ezekiel Bogart was alone.
+
+He folded his arms and bowed his head upon his breast. Strange and
+tumultuous thoughts, stamped their deep lines upon his massive brow.
+The dimly-lighted room was silent as the grave, and the light fell
+faintly upon that singular figure, buried in the folds of the dark
+robe lined with scarlet, the head covered with an unsightly skullcap,
+the eyes vailed by a green shade, the chin and mouth concealed by the
+cumbrous cravat. Lower drooped the head of Ezekiel, but still the light
+fell upon his bared forehead, and showed the tumultuous thoughts that
+were working there. The very soul of Ezekiel, retired within itself and
+absent from all external things, was buried in a maze of profound, of
+overwhelming thought.
+
+The aged servant entered with a noiseless step, "Here is a letter,
+sir," he said. But Ezekiel did not hear. "Sir, a letter from
+Philadelphia, by a messenger who has just arrived." But Ezekiel,
+profoundly absorbed, was unconscious of his presence.
+
+The aged servant advanced, and placed the letter on the table, directly
+before his absent-minded master. He touched Ezekiel respectfully on the
+shoulder and repeated in a louder voice--"A letter, sir, an important
+letter from Philadelphia, by a messenger who has just arrived."
+
+Ezekiel started in his chair, like one suddenly awakened from a sound
+slumber. At a glance he read the superscription of the letter: "_To
+Ezekiel Bogart, Esq.--Important_."
+
+"The handwriting of the Agent whom I yesterday sent to Philadelphia!"
+he ejaculated, and opened the letter. These were its contents:
+
+ _Philadelphia, Dec._ 23, 1844.
+
+ SIR:--I have just returned to the city, from the Asylum--returned
+ in time to dispatch this letter by an especial messenger, who will
+ go to New York, in the five o'clock train. At your request, and in
+ accordance with your instructions, I visited the Asylum for the
+ Insane, this morning, expecting to bring away with me the Patient whom
+ you named. _He escaped some days ago_--so the manager informed me.
+ And since his escape no intelligence has been had of his movements.
+ I have not time to add more, but desire your instructions in the
+ premises.
+
+ Yours truly, H. H.
+
+ To EZEKIEL BOGART, ESQ.
+
+No sooner had Ezekiel scanned the contents of this epistle, than he was
+seized with powerful agitation.
+
+"Escaped! The child of Gulian escaped!" he cried, and started from the
+chair--"to-morrow he was to be here, in this house, in readiness for
+the Day. Escaped! Why did not the manager at once send me word? Ah,
+woe, woe!" He turned to the aged servant, and continued, "Bring the
+person who brought this letter, to me, at once, quick! Not an instant
+is to be lost."
+
+And as the aged servant left the room, Ezekiel sank back in his chair,
+like one who is overpowered by a sudden and unexpected calamity.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+THE LEGATE OF THE POPE.
+
+
+As Gaspar Manuel left the house of Ezekiel Bogart, he wrapped his
+cloak closely about his form, and drew his sombrero low upon his face.
+His head drooped upon his breast as he hurried along, with a quick
+and impetuous step. Soon he was in Broadway again, amid its glare and
+uproar, but he did not raise his head, nor turn his gaze to the right
+or left. Head drooped upon his breast and arms gathered tightly over
+his chest, he threaded his way through the mazes of the crowd, as
+absent from the scene around him, as a man walking in his sleep.
+
+Arrived at the Astor House, he hurried to his room and changed his
+dress. Divesting himself of his fashionable attire--black dress-coat,
+scarf, white-vest--he clad himself in a single-breasted frock-coat,
+buttoned to the throat and reaching below the knees. Above its straight
+collar, a glimpse of his white cravat was perceptible. And over the
+dark surface of his coat, was wound a massy gold chain, to which was
+appended, a Golden Seal and a Golden Cross. Over this costume, which in
+its severe simplicity, displayed his slender frame to great advantage,
+he threw his cloak, and once more hurried from the Hotel.
+
+Pausing on the sidewalk in front of the Astor, he engaged a
+hackney-coach--
+
+"Do you know where, ---- ----, resides?" he asked of the driver; a huge
+individual, in a white overcoat, and oil-skin hat.
+
+"Sure and I does jist that," was the answer. "It's meself that knows
+the residence of his Riv'rence as well as the nose on my face."
+
+"Drive me there, at once," said Gaspar Manuel.
+
+And presently the carriage was rolling up Broadway, bearing Gaspar
+Manuel to the residence of a prominent dignitary of the Roman Catholic
+Church.
+
+As the little clock on the mantle struck the hour of eleven, the
+Prelate was sitting in an easy chair, in front of a bright wood fire.
+It was in a spacious apartment, connected with his library by a narrow
+door. Two tall wax candles, placed upon the table by his side, shed
+their light over the softly carpeted floor, the neatly papered walls,
+and over the person of the Prelate, who was seated at his ease, in the
+center of the scene.
+
+The Prelate was a man of some forty-five years, with boldly marked
+features, and sharp fiery eyes, indicating an incessantly active mind.
+The light fell mildly on his tonsured crown, encircled by brown hair,
+streaked with gray, and his bold forehead and compressed lip. His form
+broad in the shoulders, muscular in the chest, and slightly inclined to
+corpulence, was clad in a long robe of dark purple, reaching from his
+throat to his feet. There was a cross on his right breast and a diamond
+ring on the little finger of his left-hand.
+
+Thus alone, in his most private room--the labors of the day
+accomplished and the world shut out--the Prelate was absorbed in the
+mazes of a delightful reverie.
+
+He fixed his eyes upon a picture which hung over the mantle, on the
+left. It was a portrait of Cardinal Dubois, who in the days of the
+Regency, trailed his Red Hat in the mire of nameless debaucheries.
+
+"Fool!" muttered the Prelate, "he had not even sense to hide his vices,
+under the thinnest vail of decency."
+
+He turned his eyes to a portrait which hung over the mantle on the
+right. "There was a man!" he muttered, and a smile shot over his face.
+The portrait was that of Cardinal Richelieu who butchered the Huguenots
+in France, while he was supplying armies to aid the Protestants of
+Germany. Richelieu, one of those Politicians who seem to regard the
+Church simply as a machine for the advancement of their personal
+ambition,--the cross as a glittering bauble, only designed to dazzle
+the eyes of the masses,--the seamless Cloak of the Redeemer, as a cloak
+intended to cover outrages the most atrocious, which are done in the
+name of God.
+
+"He was a man!" repeated the Prelate. "He moulded the men and events
+of his time, and,----" he stopped. He smiled. "Why cannot I mould to
+my own purposes, the men and events of my time, using the Church as a
+convenient engine?" Some thought like this seemed to flit over his mind.
+
+Having attentively turned his gaze from Cardinal Dubois to Cardinal
+Richelieu, the Prelate at length fixed his eyes upon a marble bust,
+which stood in the center of the mantle. And his lips moved, and his
+eyes flashed, and his right hand waved slowly to and fro, before his
+face, as though he saw a glorious future, drawn in the air, by a
+prophetic pencil.
+
+The marble bust upon which he gazed, was the bust of one, who from
+the very lowest walk in life had risen to be Pope: and one of the
+strongest, sternest Popes that ever held the scepter of the Vatican.
+
+"It can be won," ejaculated the Prelate, "and the means lie here," he
+placed his hand upon a Map which lay on the table. It was a map of the
+American Continent.
+
+"I came up stairs without ceremony," said a calm even voice; "your
+Grace's servant informed me, that you expected me."
+
+"I am heartily glad to see you, my Lord," said the Prelate, turning
+abruptly and confronting his visitor: "it is now two years since I met
+your Lordship in Rome. It was, you remember, just before you departed
+to Mexico, as the Legate of His Holiness. How has it been with you
+since I saw you last?"
+
+"I have encountered many adventures," answered "His Lordship," the
+Legate, "and none more interesting than those connected with the
+Mission of San Luis and its lands--"
+
+Thus saying the Legate--in obedience to a courteous gesture from the
+Prelate--flung aside his hat and cloak, and took a seat by the table.
+
+The Legate was none other than our friend Gaspar Manuel.
+
+They were in singular contrast, the Legate and the Prelate. The
+muscular form and hard _practical_ face of the Prelate, was certainly,
+in strong contrast with the slender frame, and pale--almost
+corpse-like--face of the Legate, with its waving hair and beard of inky
+blackness. Conscious that their conversation might one day have its
+issue, in events or in disclosures of vital importance, they for a few
+moments surveyed each other in silence. When the Prelate spoke, there
+was an air of deference in his manner, which showed that he addressed
+one far superior to himself in position, in rank and power.
+
+We will omit the Lordships and Graces with which these gentlemen,
+interlarded their conversation. Lordships and Graces and Eminences,
+are matters with which we simple folks of the American Union, are but
+poorly acquainted.
+
+"You are last from Havana?" asked the Prelate.
+
+"Yes," answered the Legate: "and a month ago I was in the city of
+Mexico; two months since in California, at the mission of San Luis."
+
+"And the Fathers are likely to regain possession of the deserted
+mission? You intimated so much in the letter which you were kind enough
+to write me from Havana."
+
+"They are likely to regain possession," said the Legate.
+
+"But the mission will be worth nothing without the thousand acres of
+_barren_ land," continued the Prelate: "Will the _barren land_ go with
+the mission?"
+
+"In regard to that point I will inform you fully before we part. For
+the present let me remind you, that it was an important part of my
+mission, to the New World, to ascertain the prospects of the Church in
+that section of the Continent, known as the United States. Allow me to
+solicit from you, a brief exposition of the condition and prospects of
+our Church in this part of the globe."
+
+The Prelate laid his hand upon the American Continent:
+
+"The north, that is the Republic of the United States, will finally
+absorb and rule over all the nations of the Continent. By war, by
+peace, in one way or another the thing is certain--"
+
+He paused: the Legate made a gesture of assent.
+
+"It is our true policy, then, to absorb and rule over the Republic of
+the North. To make our Church the secret spring of its Government;
+to gradually and without exciting suspicion, mould every one of its
+institutions to our own purposes; to control the education of its
+people, and bend the elective franchise to our will. Is not this our
+object?"
+
+Again the Legate signified assent.
+
+"And this must be done, by making New York the center of our system.
+New York is in reality, the metropolis of the Continent; from New
+York as from a common center, therefore all our efforts must radiate.
+From New York we will control the Republic, shape it year by year to
+our purposes; as it adds nation after nation to its Union, we will
+make our grasp of its secret springs of action, the more certain and
+secure; and at last the hour will come, when this Continent apparently
+one united republic, will in fact, be the richest altar, the strongest
+abiding-place, the most valuable property of the Church. Yes, the hour
+will come, when the flimsy scaffolding of Republicanism will fall, and
+as it falls, our Church will stand revealed, her foundation in the
+heart of the American Republic; her shadow upon every hill and valley
+of the Continent. For you know," and his eye flashed, "that our battle
+against what is called Democracy and Progress, is to be fought not in
+the Old World, where everything is on our side, but in the New World,
+where these damnable heresies do most abound."
+
+"True," interrupted the Legate, thoughtfully; "the New World is the
+battle-field of opinions. Here the fight must take place."
+
+"You ask how our work is to begin? Here in New York we will commence
+it. Hundreds of thousands of foreigners of our faith arrive in this
+city every year. Be it our task to plant an eternal barrier between
+these men, and those who are American citizens by birth. To prevent
+them from mingling with the American People, from learning the
+traditions of American history, which give the dogma of Democracy its
+strongest hold upon the heart, to _isolate_ them, in the midst of the
+American nation. In a word, the first step of our work is, to array
+at the zealous _Foreign_ party, an opposition to an envenomed _Native
+American_ party."
+
+"This you have commenced already," said the Legate,--"it was in Mexico,
+that I heard of Philadelphia last summer--of Philadelphia on the verge
+of civil war with Protestants and Catholics flooding the gutters with
+their blood, while the flames of burning churches lit up the midnight
+sky."
+
+"The outbreak was rather premature," calmly continued the Prelate, "but
+it has done us good. It has invested us with the light of martyrdom,
+the glory of persecution. It has drawn to us the sympathies of tens of
+thousands of Protestants, who, honestly disliking the assaults of the
+mere 'No-Popery' lecturers upon our church, as honestly entertain the
+amusing notion, that the Rulers of our church, look upon 'Toleration,
+Liberty of Conscience,' and so forth, with any feeling, but profound
+contempt."
+
+"Ah!" ejaculated the Legate, and a smile crossed his face, "deriving
+strength from the illimitable bitterness of the Native American
+and Foreign political parties, we already hold in many portions of
+the Union, the ballot box in our grasp. We can dictate terms to
+both political parties. Their leaders court us. Editors who know
+that we rooted Protestantism out of Spain, by the red hand of the
+Inquisition,--that for our faith we made the Netherlands rich in
+gibbets and graves,--that we gave the word, which started from its
+scabbard the dagger of St. Bartholomew,--grave editors, who know all
+this and more, talk of us as the friends of Liberty and Toleration--"
+
+"But there was Calvert, the founder of Maryland, and Carroll the signer
+of the Declaration of Independence, these were Catholics, were they
+not, Catholics and friends of Liberty?"
+
+"They were _laymen_, not _rulers_, you will remember," said the
+Prelate, significantly: "at best they belonged to a sort of Catholics,
+which, in the Old World, we have done our best to root out of the
+church. But here, however, we can use their names and their memories,
+as a cloak for our purposes of ultimate dominion. But to resume: both
+political parties court us. Their leaders, who loathe us, are forced
+to kneel to us. Things we can do freely and without blame, which damn
+any Protestant sect but to utter. The very 'No-Popery' lecturers aid
+us: they attack doctrinal points in our church, which are no more
+assailable than the doctrinal points of any one of their ten thousand
+sects: they would be dangerous, indeed, were they to confine their
+assaults to the simple fact, that ours is not so much a church as an
+EMPIRE, having for its object, the temporal dominion of the whole human
+race, to be accomplished under the vail of spiritualism. An EMPIRE
+built upon the very sepulcher of Jesus Christ,--an EMPIRE which holds
+Religion, the Cross, the Bible, as valuable just so far as they aid its
+efforts for the temporal subjection of the world,--an EMPIRE which,
+using all means and holding all means alike lawful, for the spread of
+its dominion, has chosen the American Continent as the scene of its
+loftiest triumph, the theater of its final and most glorious victories!"
+
+As he spoke the Atheist Prelate started from his chair.
+
+Far different from those loving Apostles, who through long ages, have
+in the Catholic Church, repeated in their deeds, the fullness of Love,
+which filled the breast of the Apostle John,--far different from the
+Fenelons and Paschals of the church,--this Prelate was a cold-blooded
+and practical Atheist. Love of women, love of wine, swayed him not.
+Lust of power was his spring of action--his soul. He may have at times,
+assented to Religion, but that he believed in it as an awful verity,
+as a Truth worth all the physical power and physical enjoyment in the
+universe,--the Prelate never had a thought like this. An ambitious
+atheist, a Borgia without his lust, a Richelieu with all of Richelieu's
+cunning, and not half of Richelieu's intellect, a cold-blooded,
+practical schemer for his own elevation at any cost,--such was the
+Prelate. Talk to him of Christ as a consoler, as a link between
+crippled humanity and a better world, as of a friend who meets you
+on the dark highway of life, and takes you from sleet and cold, into
+the light of a dear, holy home,--talk to him of the love which imbues
+and makes alive every word from the lips of Christ,--ha! ha! Your
+atheistical Prelate would laugh at the thought. He was a worldling.
+Risen from the very depths of poverty, he despised the poor from whom
+he sprung. For years a loud and even brawling advocate of justice for
+Ireland,--an ecclesiastical stump orator; a gatherer of the pennies
+earned by the hard hand of Irish labor,--he was the man to blaspheme
+her cause and vilify its honest advocates, when her dawn of Revolution
+darkened into night again. He was the pugilist of the Pulpit, the
+gladiator of controversy, always itching for a fight, never so happy as
+when he set honest men to clutching each other by the throat. Secure
+in his worldly possessions, rich from the princely revenues derived
+from the poor--the hard working poor of his church,--a tyrant to the
+parish priests who were so unfortunate as to be subjected to his sway,
+by turns the Demagogue of Irish freedom and the _Mouchard_ of Austrian
+despotism, he was a vain, bad, cunning, but _practical_ man, this
+Atheist Prelate of the Roman Church.
+
+"Now, what think you of our plans and our prospects?" said the Prelate,
+triumphantly--"can we not, using New York as the center of our
+operations, the Ballot Box, social dissension and sectarian warfare as
+the means, can we not, mould the New World to our views, and make it
+Rome, Rome, in every inch of its soil?"
+
+The Legate responded quietly:
+
+"I see but one obstacle--"
+
+"Only one; that is well--"
+
+"And that obstacle is not so much the memory of the American Past,
+which some of these foolish Americans still consider holy--not so
+much the memory of Penn the Quaker; Calvert the Catholic, who planted
+their silly dogma of Brotherly love on the Delaware and St. Mary's,
+in the early dawn of this country,--not so much the Declaration of
+Independence, nor the blood-marks which wrote its principles, on the
+soil from Bunker Hill to Savannah, from Brandywine to Yorktown,--not
+so much the history of the sixty-eight years, which in the American
+Republic, have shown a growth, an enterprise, a development never
+witnessed on God's earth before,--not so much all this, as the single
+obstacle which I now lay on the table before you."
+
+And from the breast of his coat he drew forth a small, thin volume,
+which he laid upon the table:
+
+"This!" cried the Prelate, as though a bomb-shell had burst beneath his
+chair; "This! Why this is the four Gospels according to Matthew, Mark,
+Luke and John!"
+
+"Precisely. And Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, those simple fellows are
+the very ones whom we have most to fear."
+
+"But I have driven this book from the Common Schools!" cried the
+Prelate, rather testily.
+
+"Have you driven it from the home?" quietly asked the Legate.
+
+The Prelate absently toyed with his cross, but did not answer.
+
+"Can you drive it from the home?" asked the Legate.
+
+The Prelate gazed at the portrait of Cardinal Dubois, and then at
+Richelieu's, but did not reply.
+
+"Do you not see the difficulty?" continued the Legate, "so long
+as Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, sit down by the firesides of the
+people, making themselves a part and parcel of the dearest memories of
+every household,--so long we may chop logic, weave plots, traffic in
+casuistry, but in vain!"
+
+"True, that book is capable of much mischief," said the Prelate; "it
+has caused more revolutions than you could count in a year."
+
+"In Spain, where this book is scarcely known, in Italy, where to read
+it is imprisonment and chains, we can get along well enough, but here,
+in the United States, where this book is a fireside book in every home,
+the first book that the child looks into, and the last that the dying
+old man listens to, as his ear is growing deaf with death,--here what
+shall we do? You know that it is a Democratic book?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"That it is so simple in its enunciations of brotherly love, equality,
+and the love of God for all mankind, so simple and yet so strong, that
+it has required eighteen centuries of scholastic casuistry and whole
+tons of volumes, devoted to theological special pleading, to darken its
+simple meaning?"
+
+"Yes, yes."
+
+"That in its portraitures of Christ, there is something that stirs
+the hearts of the humblest, and sets them on fire with the thought,
+'I too, am not a beast, but a child of God, destined to have a home
+here and an immortality hereafter?' That its profound contempt of
+riches and of mere worldly power,--its injunctions to the rich, 'sell
+all thou hast and give to the poor;' its pictures of Christ, coming
+from the workman's bench, and speaking, acting, doing and dying, so
+that the masses might no longer be the sport of priest or king, but
+the recreated men and women of a recreated social world; that in all
+this, it has caused more revolutions, given rise to more insurrections,
+leveled more deadly blows at absolute authority, than all other books
+that have been written since the world began?"
+
+"Yes--y-e-s--y-e-s," said the Prelate. "True, true, a mischievous book.
+But how would you remedy the evil?"
+
+"That's the question," said the Legate, dryly.
+
+After a long pause they began to talk concerning the mission of San
+Luis in California--its fertile hills and valleys, rich in the olive,
+fig, grape, orange and pomegranate,--and of the _thousand acres of
+barren land_, claimed alike by the Jesuits and Dr. Martin Fulmer.
+
+"The claim of the Fathers, to the mission-house and lands of San Luis,
+is established then?" said the Prelate.
+
+"It has been acknowledged by the Mexican Government," was the reply of
+the Legate.
+
+"And the claim to the thousand barren acres?"
+
+"It rests in my hands," replied the Legate: "by a train of
+circumstances altogether natural, although to some they may appear
+singular, it is in my power to decide, whether these thousand barren
+acres shall belong to our Church or to Dr. Martin Fulmer."
+
+"And it is not difficult to see which way your verdict wall fall;" the
+Prelate's eyes sparkled and a smile lit up his harsh features.
+
+"These acres are barren, barren so far as the fig, the orange, the
+vine, the pomegranate are concerned, barren even of the slightest
+portion of shrubbery or verdure, but rich--"
+
+"Rich in gold!" ejaculated the Prelate, folding his arms and fixing
+his eyes musingly upon the fire,--"gold sufficient to pave my way from
+this chair to the Papal throne;" he muttered to himself. "In Rome," he
+said aloud, "I had an opportunity to examine the records of the various
+missions, established by our Church in California; and they all contain
+traditions of incredible stores of gold, hidden under the rocks and
+sands of California. Does your experience confirm those traditions?"
+
+"I have traversed that land from the Sierra Nevada to the Pacific, and
+from North to South," replied the Legate, "and it is my opinion, based
+on facts, that California is destined to exercise an influence upon the
+course of civilization and the fate of nations, such as has not been
+felt for a thousand years."
+
+He paused, as if collecting in his mind, in one focus, a panorama of
+the varied scenery, climate, productions, of the region between the
+snows of the Sierra Nevada and the Pacific. Then, while his pale face
+flushed with excitement, and his bright eyes grew even yet more vivid
+in their luster, he continued:
+
+"The bowels of the land are rich in gold," he said, in that low-toned
+but musical voice. "It is woven in the seams of her rocks. It
+impregnates her soil. It gleams in the sand of her rivers. Gold, gold,
+gold,--such as Banker never counted, nor the fancy of a Poet, ever
+dreamed of. Deep in her caverns the ore is shining; upon her mountain
+sides it flings back the rays of the sun; her forest trees are rooted
+in gold. Could you fathom her secrets, you would behold gold enough
+to set the world mad. Men would leave their homes, and all that makes
+life dear, and journey over land and sea, by hundreds of thousands, in
+pilgrimage to this golden land. The ships of the crusaders would whiten
+every sea, their caravans would belt every desert. The whole world,
+stirred into avaricious lust, would gravitate to this rock of gold."
+
+Turning to the Prelate, he said abruptly:
+
+"Did you ever attempt to unravel the superstition of Gold?"
+
+"The superstition of Gold?" echoed the Prelate.
+
+"Yes, superstition of gold. For that wide-spread opinion in regard to
+the value of gold, is one of the most incredible superstitions that
+ever damned the soul of man. It obtains in all ages and on every shore.
+In the days of the Patriarchs, and in the days of the Bankers,--among
+the sleekly-attired people of civilized races, and among savage hordes,
+naked as the beasts,--everywhere and in all ages, this superstition has
+obtained, and crushed mankind, not with an iron, but with a golden rod.
+(There are exceptions, I grant, as in the case of the North American
+Indians, and other savage tribes, but it cannot be denied, that this
+superstition which fixes a certain value on gold, has overspread the
+earth, in all ages, as universal as the very air.) What religion has
+ruled so absolutely and reigned so long, as this deep-implanted golden
+superstition,--this Catholic religion of the yellow ore?"
+
+"But gold is valuable in itself," interrupted the Prelate--"it is
+something more than the representative of labor; in a thousand respects
+it surpasses all other metals. It is an article of merchandise, a part
+of commerce; even were it not money, it would always bring more money
+than any other metal."
+
+"This is often said, and is plausible. Admit all you assert, and the
+question occurs, '_Why should it be so?_' When you say that gold is
+the most precious of all metals, an article of value in _itself_, as
+well as the representative of labor, you assert a fact, but you do not
+_explain_ that fact. Far, far from it. But why should it be so? What
+_use_ has it been to man, that it should receive this high distinction?
+Iron, lead, copper--all of these are a million fold more useful than
+gold--No--reflect a little while. Bend all your thought to the subject.
+Track the yellow ore through all ages, and at last, you must come to
+the conclusion, that the value placed upon gold is a superstition, as
+vast as it is wicked,--a superstition which has crushed more hearts and
+damned more souls, than all the (so called) _Religious_ superstitions
+that smear the page of history with blood. That such a superstition
+exists, would alone convince me of the existence of an embodied Devil,
+who, perpetually at war with God, does with a direct interference,
+derange his laws, and crush the hopes of his children."
+
+For a moment, he shaded his eyes with his hand, while the Prelate gazed
+upon him, with something of surprise in his look.
+
+"Can you estimate the evils which have flowed from this superstition?
+No. The reason falters, the imagination shudders: at the very thought
+you are bewildered,--dumb. But think of it as you will,--entangle
+yourself among the sophistries which attempt to explain, but in
+reality only darken it,--view it as a political economist, a banker,
+a merchant, or a worker in precious metals,--and you only plunge the
+deeper into the abyss of doubt and bewilderment. You cannot explain
+this superstition, unless you mount higher, and grasp that great law
+of God, which says, forever, '_It is wicked for_ ONE MAN _to clothe
+himself with luxury, at the expense of the sweat and blood of another_
+MAN, _who is his Brother_.' Grasp this truth firmly; understand
+it in all its bearings,--and you discern the source of the Golden
+superstition; for it had its source, in that depraved idleness which
+seeks luxury at the expense of human suffering,--which coins enjoyment
+for a few men, on the immeasurable wretchedness of entire races of
+mankind. The first man who sought to rob his Brother of the fruits of
+his labor, and of his place on the earth, was doubtless the inventor
+of the golden superstition; for turn and twist it as you will, gold is
+only valuable because it _represents_ labor. All its value springs from
+that cause. It represents labor already done, and it represents labor
+that is to be done, and therefore,--therefore only,--is it valuable.
+And it is the most convenient engine by which the idlers of the World
+can enslave the laborers--therefore it has always retained its value.
+Backed by the _delusion_ which fixes upon it a certain value, and makes
+it more precious than the blood of hearts, or the salvation of the
+entire human race, gold will continue to be the great engine for the
+destruction of that race--for its moral and physical damnation--just
+as long as the few continue to live upon the wretchedness of the many.
+Once destroy this superstition,--take away from gold its certain
+value--make that value vague, uncertain, and subject to as many changes
+as a bank note,--and you will have wrested the lash from the hand of
+the oppressor all over the world."
+
+These words made a deep impression upon the Prelate, an impression
+which he dared not trust himself to frame in words. Suppressing an
+exclamation that started to his lips, he asked in a calm conversational
+tone--
+
+"Will the discovery of the golden land have this effect?"
+
+It was in a saddened tone, and with a downcast eye, that the Legate
+replied:
+
+"Ah, that is, indeed, a fearful question. A question that may well make
+one shudder. One of two things must happen. From the rocks and sands of
+the golden land, the oppressors of the world will derive new means of
+oppression, or from those rocks and sands, will come the instrument,
+which is to lift up the masses and shake the oppressors to the dust.
+What shall be the result? Shall new and more damning chains, for human
+hearts, be forged upon the gold of these sands and rocks? Or, tottering
+among these rocks and sands, shall poor humanity at last discover the
+instrument of her redemption? God alone can tell."
+
+The Prelate was silent. Folding his hands he surveyed the pallid visage
+of the Legate, with a look hard to define.
+
+"The first wind that blows intelligence from this land of gold, will
+convulse the world. A few years hence, and these sands, now sparkling
+with ore, will be white with human skeletons. Thousands and hundreds of
+thousands will rush to seek the glittering ore, and find a grave, in
+the mud by the rivers' banks; hundreds of thousands will lie unburied
+in the depths of trackless deserts, or in the darkness of trackless
+ravines; the dog and the wolf will feed well upon human hearts."
+
+Suppressing the emotion aroused, by a portion of the Legate's remarks,
+the Prelate asked:
+
+"And the thousand _barren_ acres contain incredible stores of gold?"
+
+"Gold sufficient to affect the destiny of one-half the globe," replied
+the Legate: "gold, that employed in a good cause, would bless and
+elevate millions of the oppressed, or devoted to purposes of evil,
+might curse the dearest rights of half the human race."
+
+"And it is in your power to establish the right of our Church to these
+lands?"
+
+"It is. A word from me, and the thing is done."
+
+"Pardon me," said the Prelate, slowly, and measuring every word,--"some
+portions of your remarks excite my curiosity. You speak of the
+oppressed, and of the oppressors. Now,--now,--from any lips but yours,
+these words, and the manner in which you use them, would sound like
+the doctrines of the French Socialists. What do you precisely mean by
+'oppressed,'--and who, in your estimation, are the '_oppressors_?'"
+
+The Legate rose from his seat, and fixed his eyes upon the Prelate's
+face:
+
+"There are many kinds of oppressors, but the most infamous, are those
+who use the Church of God, as the engine of their atrocious crimes."
+
+This remark fell like a thunderbolt.
+
+The Prelate slowly rose from his chair, his face flushed and his chest
+heaving.
+
+"Sir!" he cried in a voice of thunder.
+
+"Nay--you need not raise your voice,--much less confront me with that
+frowning brow. You know me and know the position which I hold. You know
+that I am above your reach,--that, perchance, a word from me, uttered
+in the proper place, might stop your career, even at the threshold. I
+know you, and know that you belong to the party, which, for ages, has
+made our church the instrument of the most infernal wrongs--"
+
+"Sir!" again ejaculated the Prelate.
+
+"A party, whose noblest monument is made of the skeletons, the racks
+and thumbscrews of the Inquisition, and whose history can only be
+clearly read, save by the torchlight of St. Bartholomew--"
+
+"This from you, sir,--"
+
+"A party whose avowed atheism produced the French Revolution, and whose
+cloaked atheism is even now sowing the seeds of social hell-fire, in
+this country and in Europe--"
+
+"I swear, sir--"
+
+"Hear me, sir, for I am only here to read you a plain lesson. You,
+and men like you, may possibly convert the Church once more into the
+instrument of ferocious absolutism and the engine of colossal murder,
+but remember--"
+
+He flung his coat around him, and stood erect, his face even more
+deathly pale than usual, his eyes shining with clear and intense light.
+There was a grandeur in his attitude and look.
+
+"Remember, even in the moments of your bloodiest triumphs, that even
+within the Church of Rome, swayed by such as you, there is another
+Church of Rome, composed of men, who, when the hour strikes, will
+sacrifice everything to the cause of humanity and God."
+
+These words were pronounced slowly and deliberately, with an emphasis
+which drove the color from the Prelate's cheek.
+
+"Think of it, within Rome, a higher, mightier Rome,--within the order
+of Jesuits, a higher and mightier order of Jesuits--and whenever you,
+and such as you, turn, you will be met by men, who have sworn to use
+the Church, as the instrument of human progress, or to drive forward
+the movement over its ruins."
+
+He moved to the door, but lingered for a moment on the threshold:
+
+"It is a great way," he said, "from the turnpike to the Vatican."
+
+This he said, and disappeared. (The Prelate had risen from the position
+of breaker of stone on the public road, only to use all his efforts to
+crush and damn the masses from whom he sprung.)
+
+And the Prelate was now left alone, to pick up the thunderbolt which
+had fallen at his feet.
+
+Half an hour after this scene, the Legate once more ascended the steps
+of the Astor House, his cloak wound tightly about his slender form, his
+face,--and perchance the emotions written there,--cast into shadow by
+his broad sombrero. He was crossing the hall, flaring with gas-lights,
+when he was aroused from his reverie by these words,--
+
+"My lord,--"
+
+The speaker was a man of some forty-five years, with a hard,
+unmeaning face, and vague gray eyes. His ungainly form,--for he was
+round-shouldered, knock-kneed and clumsily footed,--was clad in black,
+varied only by a strip of dirty white about his bull-like neck. As he
+stood obsequiously, hat in hand, his bald crown, scantily encircled by
+a few hairs of no particular color, was revealed; and also his low,
+broad forehead. He looked very much like an ecclesiastic, whom habits
+of passive obedience have converted into a human fossil.
+
+"My lord,--"
+
+"Pshaw, Michael, none of that nonsense here. Have you obeyed the
+directions which I gave you before I left the steamer to-night?"
+
+"I have, my--" 'lord,' he was about to say, but he substituted 'your
+excellence!'--"Your country seat, near the city, is in good order.
+Everything has been prepared in anticipation of your arrival. I have
+just returned from it,--Maryvale, I think you call it?"
+
+"Maryvale," replied the Legate, "Did you tell Felix to have my carriage
+ready for me, after midnight, at the place and the hour which I named?"
+
+"Yes, my lord,"--and Michael bowed low.
+
+"No more of that nonsense, I repeat it.--This is not the country for
+it. How did you dispose of Cain?"
+
+"I left Cain at the country seat."
+
+"It is well," said the Legate, and having spoken further words to
+Michael, in a lower tone, he dismissed him, and went silently to his
+chamber.
+
+And CAIN of whom they spoke. We shall see CAIN after a while.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+"JOANNA."
+
+
+At the hour of eleven o'clock, on the night of December 23d, 1844,
+----. A gentleman of immense wealth, who occupied his own mansion,
+in the upper part of New York, came from his library, and descended
+the broad staircase, which led to the first floor of his mansion. His
+slight frame was wrapped in a traveling cloak and a gay traveling cap
+shaded his features. He held a carpet-bag in his hand. Arrived on the
+first floor, he entered a magnificent range of apartments communicating
+with each other by folding-doors, and lighted by an elegant chandelier.
+Around him, wherever he turned, was everything in the form of luxury,
+that the eye could desire or the power of wealth procure. Thick
+carpets, massive mirrors, lofty ceiling, walls broken here and there
+with a niche in which a marble statue was placed--these and other signs
+of wealth, met his gaze at every step.
+
+He was a young man of fine personal appearance, and refined tastes.
+Without a profession, he employed his immense wealth in ministering to
+his taste for the arts. The only son of a man of fortune, educated to
+the habit of spending money without earning it, he had married about
+two years before, an exceedingly beautiful woman, the only daughter of
+a wealthy and aristocratic family.
+
+And far back in a nook of this imposing _suite_ of apartments, where
+the light of the chandelier is softened by the shadows of statue
+and marble pillar, sits this wife, a woman in the prime of early
+womanhood.--Her shape, at the same time tall, rounded, and commanding,
+is enveloped in a loose wrapper, which seems rather to float about
+her form, than to gird it closely. Her face is bathed in tears. As
+her husband approaches she rises and confronts him with a _blonde_
+countenance, fair blue eyes and golden hair. That face, beaming with
+young loveliness, is shadowed with grief.
+
+"Must you go, indeed, my husband?"--and clad in that flowing robe, she
+rests her hands upon his shoulder, and looks tearfully into his face.
+
+His cloak falls and discloses his slight and graceful form. He
+removes his traveling cap, and his wife may freely gaze upon that
+dark-complexioned face, whose regular features, remind you of an Apollo
+cast in bronze. His dark eyes flash with clear light as she raises one
+hand, and places it upon his forehead, and twines her fingers among the
+curls of his jet-black hair.
+
+Take it all in all, it is an interesting picture, centered in that
+splendid room, where everything breathes luxury and wealth--the slender
+form of the young husband clad in black, contrasted with the imposing
+figure of the young wife, enveloped in drapery of flowing white.
+
+"I must go, wife. Kiss me."--She bent back his head and gazing upon
+him long and earnestly, suffered her lips to join his,--"I'll be back
+before Christmas."
+
+"You are sure that you must go?" she exclaimed, toying with the curls
+of his dark hair.
+
+"You saw the letter which I received from Boston. My poor brother lies
+at the point of death. I must see him, Joanna,--you know how it pains
+me to be absent from you, only for a day,--but I must go. I'll be back
+by Christmas morning."
+
+"Will you; indeed, though, Eugene?"--she wound her arms about his
+neck--"You know how drearily the time passes without you. O, how I
+shall count the hours until you return!" And at every word she smoothed
+his forehead with her hand, and touched his mouth with those lips which
+bloomed with the ripeness and purity of perfect womanhood.
+
+"I must go, Joanna,"--and convulsed at the thought of leaving this
+young wife, even for a day, the husband gathered her to his breast, and
+then seizing his cloak and carpet-bag, hurried from the room. His steps
+were heard in the hall without, and presently the sound of the closing
+door reached the ears of the young wife.
+
+An expression of intense sorrow passed over her face, and she remained
+in the center of the room, her hand clasped over her noble bust, and
+her head bowed in an attitude of deep melancholy.
+
+"He is gone," she murmured, and passing through the spacious apartment,
+she traversed the hall, and ascended the broad stairway.
+
+At the head of the stairway was a large and roomy apartment, warmed
+(like every room in the mansion) from an invisible source, which gave a
+delightful temperature to the atmosphere. There was a small workstand
+in the midst of the apartment, on which stood a lighted candle. A
+servant maid was sleeping with her head upon the table, and one hand
+resting upon a cradle at her side. In that cradle, above the verge of a
+silken coverlet, appeared the face of a cherub boy, fast asleep, with
+a rose on his cheek, and ringlets of auburn hair, tangled about his
+forehead, white as alabaster.
+
+This room the young mother entered, and treading on tiptoe, she
+approached the cradle and bent over it, until her lips touched the
+forehead of the sleeping boy. And when she rose again there was a tear
+upon his cheek,--it had fallen from the blue eye of the mother.
+
+Retiring noiselessly, she sought her own chamber, where a taper was
+dimly burning before a mirror. By that faint light you might trace the
+luxurious appointment of the place,--a white bed, half shadowed in an
+alcove--a vase of alabaster filled with fragrant flowers--and curtains
+falling like snow-flakes along the lofty windows. The idea of wifely
+purity was associated with every object in that chamber.
+
+"I shall not want you to-night, Eliza; I will undress myself,"
+exclaimed Joanna to a female servant, who stood waiting near the
+mirror. "You may retire."
+
+The servant retired, and the young wife was alone. She extinguished the
+taper, and all was still throughout the mansion. But she did not retire
+to her bed. Advancing in the darkness, she opened a door behind the
+bed, and entered the bath-room, where she lighted a lamp by the aid of
+a perfumed match which she found, despite the gloom. The bath-room was
+oval in shape, with an arched ceiling. The walls, the ceiling and the
+floor were of white marble. In the center was the bath, resembling an
+immense shell, sunk into the marble floor. This place, without ornament
+or decoration of any kind, save the pure white of the walls and floor,
+was pervaded by luxurious warmth. The water which filled the shell or
+hollow in the center of the floor, emitted a faint but pungent perfume.
+
+She disrobed herself and descended into the bath, suffering her golden
+hair to float freely about her shoulders.
+
+After the lapse of a quarter of an hour, this beautiful woman took the
+light and passed into the bed chamber. She cast a glance toward her
+bed, which had been consecrated by her marriage, and by the birth of
+her first and only child. Then advancing toward a wardrobe of rosewood,
+which stood in a recess opposite the bed, she took from thence a dress,
+with which she proceeded to encase her form. A white robe, loose and
+flowing, with a hood resembling the cowl of a nun. This robe was of
+the softest satin. She enveloped her form in its folds, threw the hood
+over her head, and looking in the mirror, surveyed her beautiful face,
+which, glowing with warmth, was framed in her golden hair, and in the
+folds of the satin cowl.
+
+She drew slippers of delicate satin, white as her robe, upon her naked
+feet.
+
+Then, taking from the wardrobe a heavy cloak, lined throughout with
+fur, as soft as the satin which clad her shape, she wound it about her
+from head to foot, and stood completely buried in its voluminous folds.
+
+Once more she listened: all was still throughout that mansion, the home
+of aristocratic wealth. Thus clad in the silken robe and cowl, covered
+in its turn by the shapeless black cloak, this young wife, whose limbs
+were glowing with the warmth of the bath, whose person was invested
+with a delicate perfume, turned once more and gazed upon her marriage
+bed, and a deep sigh swelled her bosom. She next extinguished the
+light, and passing from the chamber, descended the marble staircase.
+All was dark. She entered the suite of apartments on the first
+floor, which, adorned with pillars, communicated with each other by
+folding-doors. The chandelier had been extinguished, and the scene was
+wrapt in impenetrable darkness.
+
+Standing in the darkness,--her only apparel the silken robe, and the
+thick, warm cloak which covered it,--the young wife trembled like a
+leaf.
+
+She attempted to utter a word, but her voice failed her.
+
+"Joanna!" breathed a voice, speaking near her.
+
+"Beverly!" answered the young wife, breathing the name in a whisper.
+
+A faint sound like a step, whose echo is muffled by thick carpets, and
+the hand of a man, clasps the hand of Joanna.
+
+"How long have you been here?" she whispered.
+
+"I just entered," was the answer.
+
+"How?"
+
+"By the front door, and the key which you gave me."
+
+"O, I tremble so,--I am afraid--"
+
+An arm encircled the cloak which covered her, and girded it tightly
+about her form.
+
+"Has _he_ gone, Joanna?"
+
+"Yes, Beverly,--half an hour ago."
+
+"Come, then, let us go. The carriage is waiting at the next corner;
+and the street-lamp near the front door is extinguished. All is dark
+without; no one can see us."
+
+"Are you sure, Beverly--I tremble so."
+
+"Come, Joanna," and through the thick darkness he led her toward the
+hall, supporting her form upon his arm.
+
+"O, whither are you leading me," she whispered in a broken voice.
+
+"Can you ask? Don't you remember my note of to-day? To the TEMPLE,
+Joanna."
+
+Their steps echo faintly from the entry.
+
+Then the faint sound produced by the careful closing of the street door
+is heard.
+
+A pause of one or two minutes.
+
+Hark! The rolling of carriage wheels.
+
+All is still as death throughout the mansion and the street on which it
+fronts.
+
+Hours pass away, and once more the street door is unclosed, and
+carefully closed again. A step echoes faintly through the hall,--very
+faintly,--and yet it can be heard distinctly, so profound is the
+stillness which reigns throughout the mansion. It ascends the marble
+staircase, and is presently heard crossing the threshold of the
+bed-chamber. A pause ensues, and the taper in front of the mirror is
+lighted again, and a faint ray steals through the chamber.
+
+EUGENE LIVINGSTONE stands in front of the mirror. He flings his cloak
+on a chair, dashes his cap from his brow, and wipes the sweat from his
+forehead,--although he has just left the air of a winter night, his
+forehead is bathed in moisture. His slender frame shakes as with an
+ague-chill. His eyes are unnaturally dilated; the white of the eyeball
+may be plainly traced around the pupil of each eye. His lips are
+pressed together, and yet they quiver, as if with deathly cold.
+
+He does not utter a single ejaculation.
+
+A letter is in his right hand, neatly folded and scented with
+_pachouli_. It bears the name "_Joanna_," as a superscription. He opens
+it and reads its contents, traced in a delicate hand--
+
+ JOANNA--
+
+ _To-night,--at Twelve_.--THE TEMPLE.
+
+ BEVERLY.
+
+Having read the brief letter, the husband draws another from a
+side-pocket: "There may be a mistake about the handwriting," he
+murmurs, "let us compare them."
+
+The second letter is addressed to "EUGENE LIVINGSTONE, ESQ.," and its
+contents, which the husband traces by the light of the taper, are as
+follows:
+
+ _New York, Dec._ 23, 1844.
+
+ DEAR EUGENE:--Sorry to hear that you have such sad news from Boston.
+ Must you go to-night? Send me word and I'll try to go with you. Thine,
+ ever,
+
+ BEVERLY BARRON.
+
+Long and intently, the husband compared these two letters. His
+countenance underwent many changes. But there could be no doubt of
+it--both letters were written by the same hand.
+
+"He wrote to me early this morning, and to my wife about an hour
+afterward,--as soon as he received my answer. I found the letter to her
+upon the floor of this chamber, only two hours ago."
+
+He replaced both letters in his vest pocket.
+
+Then taking the taper, he bent his steps toward the room at the head
+of the marble staircase. The young nurse was fast asleep on the couch,
+near the cradle.
+
+Eugene bent over the cradle. Resting its rosy cheek on its bent arm,
+the child was sleeping there, its auburn hair still tangled about its
+forehead. He could not help pressing his lips to that forehead, and
+a tear--the only tear that he shed--fell from his hot eye-ball, and
+sparkled like a pearl upon the baby's cheek.
+
+Then Eugene returned to the bedchamber, and sat down beside the bed,
+still holding the taper in his grasp. The light fell softly over the
+unruffled coverlet.
+
+"I remember the night when she first crossed yonder threshold, and
+slept in this bed."
+
+There were traces of womanish weakness upon his bronzed face, but he
+banished them in a moment, and the expression of his eye and lip became
+fixed and resolute.
+
+He sat for five minutes with his elbow on his knee, and his forehead in
+his hand.
+
+Then rising, he opened his carpet-bag, and took from thence a black
+robe, with wide sleeves, and a cowl. It took but a moment to assume
+his robe, and draw the cowl over his dark locks. He caught a glance at
+his face, thus framed in the velvet cowl, and started as he beheld the
+contrast between its ashy hues and the dark folds which concealed it.
+
+"'THE TEMPLE!'" he muttered, and pressed his hand against his
+forehead,--"I believe I remember the pass word."
+
+He took a pair of pistols, and a long slender dagger, sheathed in
+silver, from the carpet-bag, and regarded them for a moment.
+
+"No, no," he exclaimed, "these will not avail for a night like this."
+
+Gathering his cloak about him, he extinguished the taper, and crossed
+the threshold of his bed-chamber. His steps were heard on the stairs,
+and soon the faint jar of the shut door was heard.
+
+And as he left the house, the child in the cradle awoke from its
+slumber and stretched forth its little head, and in its baby voice
+called the name of the young MOTHER.
+
+Our story now turns to Randolph and Esther.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+THE WHITE SLAVE AND HIS SISTER.
+
+
+As the night set in--the night of December 23d, 1844--two persons were
+seated in the recess of a lofty window, which commanded a view of
+Broadway. It was the window of a drawing-room, on the second floor of a
+four storied edifice, built of brick, with doors and window-frames of
+marble.--By the dim light which prevailed, it might be seen that the
+drawing-room was spacious and elegantly furnished. Mirrors, pictures
+and statues broke softly through the twilight.
+
+Seated amid the silken curtains of the window, these persons sat in
+silence--the man with his arms folded, and his head sunk upon his
+breast, the woman with her hands clasped over her bosom, and her eyes
+fixed upon the face of her companion. The woman was very beautiful;
+one of those who are called 'queenly' by persons who have never seen a
+live queen, and who are ignorant of the philosophical truth, that one
+beautiful woman is worth all the queens in the universe. The man was
+dark-haired, and of a complexion singularly pale and colorless; there
+was thought upon his forehead, and something of an unpleasant memory,
+written in his knit brows and compressed lips.
+
+The silence which had prevailed for half an hour, was broken by a
+whisper from the lips of the woman--
+
+"Of what are you thinking, Randolph?"
+
+"Of the strange man whom we met at the house half way between New
+York and Philadelphia. His name and his personality are wrapt in
+impenetrable mystery."
+
+"Had it not been for him--"
+
+"Ay, had it not been for him, we should have been lost. You would
+have become the prey of the--the _master_, Esther, who owns you, and
+I,--I--well, no matter, I would have been dead."
+
+"After the scene in THE _house_, Randolph, he came on with us, and by
+his directions we took rooms at the City Hotel. From the moment of our
+arrival, only a few hours ago, we did not see him, until--"
+
+"Until an hour ago. Then he came into our room at the hotel. 'Here is a
+key,' said he, 'and your home is No. ----, Broadway. Go there at once,
+and await patiently the coming of the twenty-fifth of December.--You
+will find servants to wait upon you, you will find money to supply your
+wants,--it is in the drawer of the desk which you will discover in your
+bedroom--and most of all, you will there be safe from the attempts
+of your persecutor.' These were his words. We came at once, and find
+ourselves--the servants excepted--the sole tenants of this splendid
+mansion."
+
+"But don't you remember his last words, as we left the hotel? 'At the
+hour of six,' said he, this singular unknown, 'you will be waited on by
+a much treasured friend.'--Who can it be that is to come and see us at
+that hour?"
+
+"Friend," Randolph echoed bitterly, "what '_friend_' have we, save this
+personage, whose very name is unknown to us? Our father is dead. When I
+say that I say at once that we are utterly alone in the world."
+
+"And yet there is a career before you, Randolph," faltered Esther.
+
+"A splendid career, ha, ha, Esther, yes a splendid career for the
+White Slave! You forget, good girl, that we have negro blood in our
+veins. How much wealth do you think it would require to blot out the
+memory of the past? Suppose we are successful on the twenty-fifth of
+December,--suppose the mysterious trustee of the Van Huyden estate
+recognizes us as the children of one of the Seven,--suppose that we
+receive a share of this immense wealth--well, Esther, what will it
+avail us? Wherever we turn, the whisper will ring in our ears, 'They
+have negro blood in their veins. Their mother was descended from the
+black race. True, they look whiter than the palest of the Caucasian
+race, but--but'--(do you hear it, Esther?) 'but they _have negro blood
+in their veins_.'"
+
+He started from his chair, and his sister saw, even by the dim light
+which came through the half-drawn window-curtains, that his chest
+heaved, and his face was distorted by a painful emotion.
+
+She also arose.
+
+"Randolph," she whispered, and laid her hand gently on his arm,
+"Randolph, my brother, I say it again, come wealth or poverty, you have
+a career before you. In Europe we may find a home,--"
+
+"Europe!" he echoed, "And must we go to Europe, in order to be
+permitted to live? No, Esther, no! I am an American, yes,"--and his
+voice, low and deep, echoed proudly through the stillness of the
+dimly-lighted room,--"yes, I am a Carolinian, ay, a South Carolinian;
+South Carolina is my home; while I live, I will not cease to assert my
+right to a place, ay, and no dishonorable place--on my native soil."
+
+He passed his sister's arm through his own, and led her gently over the
+carpet, which, soft as down, returned no echo to their tread. The lofty
+ceiling stretched above them, in the vague twilight; and on either hand
+were the walls adorned with paintings and statues. The mirror, which
+but dimly reflected their forms, flashed gently through the gloom.
+
+"And Esther, there is one reason why I will not become an exile, which
+I have never spoken to mortal ears--not even to yours, my sister. It
+was communicated to me by my father, before I left for Europe: he
+placed _proofs_ in my possession which do not admit of denial. Sister,
+my epistle!--Here, in the dimly-lighted room, to which we have been
+guided by an unknown friend,--here, surrounded by mystery, and with the
+marks of wealth all about us,--here, as the crisis of our fate draws
+near, let me breathe the secret in your ears."
+
+He paused in the center of the room. His sister felt his arm tremble
+as he drew her to his side. His voice betrayed, in its earnest yet
+faltering tones, an unfathomable emotion. And Esther clinging to his
+side, and looking up into his face--which she could scarcely discern
+through the gloom--felt her bosom swell, and her breath come painfully
+in gasps, as she was made, involuntarily, a sharer of her brother's
+agitation.
+
+"Randolph," she said, "what can be the secret, which you have kept ever
+from me, your sister?"
+
+"I will not leave this country, in the first place, because I am of
+its soil," he answered, "and because, first and last, it is no common
+right, which binds me to my native land. Come, Esther, to the window,
+where the light will help my words; you shall know all--"
+
+He led her to the window, and drew from beneath his vest, a miniature,
+which he held toward the fading light.
+
+"Do you trace the features?" he whispered.
+
+"I do. It is beautifully painted, and the likeness resembles a thousand
+others, that I have seen of the same man. But what has this portrait in
+miniature to do with us?"
+
+"What has it to do with us? Regard it again, and closely, my sister. Do
+you not trace a resemblance?"
+
+"Resemblance to whom?" Esther echoed. "Why it is the portrait of ----
+----."
+
+She repeated a name familiar to the civilized world.
+
+"It is _his_ portrait. No one can deny it. But Esther, again I ask
+you,--" his voice sunk low and lower.--"Do you not trace a resemblance?"
+
+"Resemblance to whom?" she answered, her tone indicating bewildered
+amazement.
+
+"To the picture of OUR MOTHER, which you have seen at Hill Royal," was
+Randolph's answer.
+
+Utterly bewildered, Esther once more examined the miniature; and an
+idea, so strange, so wild that she deemed it but the idle fancy of a
+dream, began to take shape in her brain.
+
+"I am in the dark, I know not what you mean. True, true, the face
+portrayed in miniature does, somewhat, resemble our mother's portrait,
+but--"
+
+"That miniature, Esther, is the portrait of the Head of our Family.
+That man,--" again he pronounced the name,--"was the father of our
+mother. We are his grandchildren, my sister."
+
+Esther suffered the miniature to fall from her hand. She sank back into
+a chair.
+
+For a few moments, there was a death-like pause, unbroken by a single
+word.
+
+"The grandchildren of ---- ----!" echoed Esther, at length. "You
+cannot mean it, Randolph?"
+
+Randolph bent his head until his lips well-nigh touched his sister's
+ear. At the same moment he clasped her hard with a painful pressure.
+The words which he then uttered were uttered in a whisper, but every
+word penetrated the soul of the listener.
+
+"Esther, we are the grandchildren of that man whose name is on the lips
+of the civilized world. Our mother was _his_ child. _His_ blood flows
+in our veins. We are of _his_ race; _his_ features may be traced in
+your countenance and in mine. Now let them cut and hack and maim us:
+let them lash us at the whipping-post, or sell us in the slave mart.
+At every blow of the lash, we can exclaim, 'Lash on! lash on! But
+remember, you are inflicting this torture upon no common slaves; for
+your whip at every blow is stained with the blood of ---- ----. These
+slaves whom you lash are HIS grandchildren!'"
+
+He paused, overcome by the violence of his emotion. In a moment he
+resumed:
+
+"And it is because I am HIS grandson, that I will not exile myself
+from this land, which was HIS birthplace as it is mine. Yes, I cannot
+exile myself, for the reason that my GRANDFATHER left to my hands
+the fulfillment of an awful trust--of a work which, well fulfilled,
+will secure the happiness of all the races who people the American
+continent. I may become a suicide, but an exile,--never!"
+
+"But our mother, was the daughter of Colonel Rawden. So the rumor ran,
+and so you stated before the Court of Ten Millions."
+
+"In that statement I simply followed the popular rumor, for the time
+for the _entire truth_ had not yet come. But our mother was not the
+child of Colonel Rawden. Her mother was indeed Rawden's slave, but not
+one drop of Rawden's blood flows in our veins. Colonel Rawden was aware
+of the truth; well he knew that HERODIA, whom he sold to our father,
+was the child of ---- ----."
+
+There was a pause: and it was not broken until Esther spoke:
+
+"You would not like to return to Europe, then?"
+
+"For one reason, and one only, I would like to visit Europe."
+
+"And that reason?"
+
+"Know, Esther, that at Florence, in the course of a hurried tour
+through Italy, I met a gentleman named Bernard Lynn. His native country
+I never ascertained; he was near fifty years of age; gentlemanly in
+his exterior, of reputed wealth, and accompanied by an only daughter,
+Eleanor Lynn. At Florence,--it matters not how,--I saved his daughter's
+life--ay, more than life, her honor. All his existence was wrapt up in
+her; you may, therefore, imagine the extent of his gratitude to the
+young American who saved the life of this idolized child."
+
+"Was the girl grateful, as well as the father?"
+
+"I remained but a week in their company, and then separated, to see
+them no more forever. That week was sufficient to assure me that I
+loved her better than my life,--that my passion was returned; and
+could I but forget the negro blood which mingles in my veins, I might
+boldly claim her as my own. Her father had but one prominent hatred:
+mild and gentlemanly on all other subjects, he was ferocious at the
+sight or mention of a negro. He regarded the African race as a libel
+upon mankind; a link between the monkey and the man; a caricature of
+the human race; the work of Nature, in one of her _unlucky_ moods.
+Conscious that there was negro blood in my veins, I left him abruptly.
+With this consciousness I could not press my suit for the hand of his
+daughter."
+
+"But you would like to see her again?"
+
+"Could I meet her as an equal, yes! But never can I look upon her face
+again. Don't you see, Esther, how at every turn of life, I am met by
+the fatal whisper, 'There is _negro blood in your veins_!'"
+
+"She was beautiful?"
+
+"One of the fairest types of the Caucasian race, that ever eye beheld.
+Tall in stature, her form cast in a mould of enticing loveliness, her
+complexion like snow, yet blushing with roses on the lip and cheek; her
+hair, brown in the sunlight, and dark in the shade; her eyes of a shade
+between brown and black, and always full of the light of all-abounding
+youth and hope.--Yes, she was beautiful, transcendently beautiful! She
+had the intellect of an affectionate but proud and ambitious woman."
+
+"You saved her life?"
+
+"I saved her honor."
+
+"Her honor?"
+
+"So beautiful, so young, so gifted, she attracted the attention of an
+Italian nobleman, who sued in vain for her hand. Foiled in his efforts
+to obtain her in honorable marriage, he determined to possess her at
+all hazards. One night, as herself and her father were returning to
+Florence, after a visit to Valambrosa, the carriage was attacked by
+a band of armed ruffians. The father was stretched insensible, by a
+blow upon the temple, from the hilt of a sword. When he recovered his
+senses, he was alone, and faint with the loss of blood. His daughter
+had disappeared. He made out, at length, to get back to Florence,
+and instituted a search for his child. His efforts were fruitless.
+Suspicion rested upon the rejected lover, but he appeared before the
+father, and to the father's satisfaction established his innocence.
+At this period, when the father had relinquished all hope, I assumed
+the disguise of a traveling student, armed myself and departed from
+Florence. I bent my steps to the Apennines. A servant of the nobleman,
+impelled at once by a bribe, and by revenge for ill-treatment, had
+imparted certain intelligence to me; upon this information I shaped my
+course. In an obscure nook of the Apennines, separated from the main
+road by a wilderness frequented by banditti, I found the daughter of
+Bernard Lynn. She was a prisoner in a miserable inn, which was kept by
+a poor knave, in the pay of the robbers. I entered the room in which
+she was imprisoned, in time to rescue her from the nobleman, who had
+reached the inn before me, and who was about to carry his threats into
+force. Had I been a moment later, her honor would have been sacrificed.
+A combat ensued: Eleanor saw me peril my life for her; and saw the
+villain laid insensible at her feet. She fainted in my arms. It matters
+not to tell how I bore her back to her father, who confessed that I
+had done a deed, which could never be suitably rewarded, although he
+might sacrifice his fortune and his life, in the effort to display his
+gratitude."
+
+"By what name did they know you?"
+
+"As Randolph Royalton, the son of a gentleman of South Carolina. From
+this I am afraid the father built false impressions of my social
+position and my wealth. Afraid to tell Eleanor the truth, I left them
+without one word of farewell."
+
+At this moment, a door was opened, and the light of a wax candle,
+held in the hand of a servant who occupied the doorway, flashed over
+the details of the drawing-room, lighting up the scene with a sudden
+splendor. The servant was a man of middle age and of a calm, sober
+look. He was clad in a suit of gray, faced with black velvet.
+
+The light revealed the brother and sister as they stood in the center
+of the scene; Esther, clad in the green habit which fitted closely
+to her beautiful shape, and Randolph attired in a black coat, vest and
+cravat, which presented a strong contrast to his pallid visage.
+
+The servant bowed formally upon the threshold, and advanced, holding a
+salver of silver in one hand and the candle in the other. As soon as he
+had traversed the space between Randolph and the door, he bowed again,
+and extended the salver, upon which appeared a card, inscribed with a
+name--
+
+"Master, a gentleman desires to see you. He is in his carriage at the
+door. He gave me this card for you."
+
+Randolph exchanged glances with Esther, as much as to say "our expected
+visitor," and then took the card, and read these words:
+
+ "_An old friend desires to see Randolph Royalton and his sister._"
+
+Randolph started as he beheld the handwriting, and the blood rushed to
+his cheek:
+
+"Show the gentleman up stairs," he said quietly.
+
+The servant disappeared, taking with him the light, and the room was
+wrapt in twilight once more.
+
+"Have you any idea who is this visitor?" whispered Esther.
+
+"Hush! Do not speak! Surrounded by mystery as we are, this new wonder
+throws all others completely into shade. I can scarcely believe it; and
+yet, it was _his_ handwriting! I cannot be mistaken."
+
+In vain did Esther ask, "Whose handwriting?" Trembling with anxiety and
+delight, Randolph listened intently for the sound of footsteps on the
+stairs.
+
+Presently there came a sound, as of footsteps ascending a stairway,
+covered with thick carpet; and then the door opened and the servant
+stood on the threshold, light in hand:
+
+"This way, sir, this way," he exclaimed, and entered: while Randolph
+and Esther's gaze was centered on the doorway; the servant in gray
+rapidly lighted the wax candles, which stood on the marble mantle, and
+the spacious room was flooded with radiance.
+
+"Ah, ha, my dear boy, have I caught you at last?" cried a harsh but a
+cheerful voice, and an elderly man, wrapped in a cloak, crossed the
+threshold, and approached Randolph with rapid steps.
+
+"Mr. Lynn!" ejaculated Randolph, utterly astonished.
+
+"Yes, your old friend, whom you so abruptly left at Florence, without
+so much as a word of good-bye! How are you, my dear fellow? Give me a
+shake of your hand. Miss Royalton, I presume?"
+
+By no means recovered from his bewilderment, Randolph managed to
+present Mr. Bernard Lynn to his sister, whom he called "Miss Esther
+Royalton."
+
+The visitor gave his hat and cloak to the servant, and flung himself
+into an arm-chair. He was a gentleman of some fifty years, dark
+complexion, and with masses of snow-white hair. His somewhat portly
+form was attired in a blue frock coat, beneath which the collar of a
+buff waistcoat and a black stock were discernible.
+
+"Come, come, Randolph, my boy, let me chat with Miss Esther, while you
+attend to your servant, who, if I may judge by his telegraphic signs,
+has something to say to you in regard to your household affairs."
+
+Randolph turned and was confronted by the servant, Mr. Hicks, who bowed
+low, and said in a tone which was audible through the room--
+
+"At what hour will you have dinner served?" and then added in a
+whisper, "_I wish to speak with you alone_."
+
+"At seven, as I directed you, when I first arrived," replied Randolph,
+and followed the servant from the drawing-room.
+
+Mr. Hicks led the way, down the broad staircase, to the spacious hall
+on the lower floor, which was now illuminated by a large globe lamp.
+
+"Pardon me, Mr. Royalton," said Mr. Hicks, "for troubling you about
+the dinner hour. That, if you will excuse me for saying so, was only a
+pretext. Your Agent, who arrived before you, to-day, and engaged myself
+and the other domestics, gave me especial directions, to prepare dinner
+to-night, at seven precisely. It was not about the hour of dinner,
+therefore, that I wished to see you, for we all know our duty, and you
+may rely upon it, that all the _appointments_ of this mansion, are in
+good hands."
+
+"Right, Mr. Hicks, right, may I ask whether my Agent, who was here
+to-day, wore an odd dress which he sometimes wears, a,--a--"
+
+"A blue surtout, with a great many capes? Yes, sir. The fashion in the
+south, I presume."
+
+"_It was then my unknown friend of the half-way-house,_" thought
+Randolph: presently, he said, "Why did you call me from the
+drawing-room?"
+
+Mr. Hicks bowed his formal bow, and pointed to a door of dark mahogany:
+
+"If you will have the kindness to enter that room, you will know why I
+called you."
+
+And Mr. Hicks bowed again, and retreated slowly from the scene.
+
+Placing his hand upon the door, Randolph felt his heart beat
+tumultuously against his breast.
+
+"Yesterday, a hunted slave," the thought rushed over him, "and to-day,
+the master of a mansion, and with a train of servants to obey my nod!
+So, my unknown friend in the surtout, with blue capes, was here to-day,
+acting the part of my 'Agent.' What new wonder awaits me, beyond this
+door?"
+
+He opened the door, and he trembled, although he was anything but a
+coward. The room into which he entered, was about half as large as the
+drawing-room above. A lamp standing in the center of the carpet, shed
+a soft luxurious luster over the walls, which, white as snow, were
+adorned with one mirror, and three or four pictures, set in frames
+of black and gold. At a glance, in one of these frames, Randolph
+recognized the portrait of his father. The windows, opening on the
+street, were vailed with damask curtains. A piano stood in one corner,
+a sofa opposite, and elegant chairs of dark wood, were disposed around
+the room. It was at once a neat, singular, and somewhat luxurious
+apartment.
+
+And on the sofa, was seated the figure of a woman, closely vailed. Her
+dark attire was in strong contrast with the scarlet cushions on which
+she rested, and the snow-white wall behind her.
+
+Randolph stopped suddenly; he was stricken dumb, by a sensation of
+utter bewilderment. The unknown did not remove the vail from her face;
+she did not even move.
+
+"You wish to see me, Madam?" he said, at length.
+
+She drew the vail aside--he beheld her face,--and the next moment she
+had bounded from the sofa and was resting in his arms.
+
+"Eleanor!" he cried, as the vail removed, he beheld her face.
+
+"Randolph!" she exclaimed, as he pressed her to his breast.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+ELEANOR LYNN.
+
+
+In a few moments they were seated side by side on the sofa, and while
+she spoke, in a low musical voice, Randolph devoured her with his eyes.
+
+"We arrived from Europe, only the day before yesterday. Father
+determined to visit New York, on our way to Havana, where we intend
+to spend the winter. And to-day, by a strange chance at our hotel,
+he encountered your Agent--the superintendent of your southern
+plantation,--an eccentric person, who wears an old-fashioned surtout,
+with I know not how many capes. From this gentleman, father learned
+that you had just arrived from the south, and at once determined to
+give you a surprise. We came together, but to tell you the truth, I
+wanted to see you alone, and, therefore, lingered behind, while father
+went up stairs to prepare you for my presence."
+
+She smiled, and Randolph, like a man in a delicious dream, feared to
+move or speak, lest the vision which he beheld might vanish into the
+air.
+
+Words are but poor things, with which to paint a beautiful woman.
+
+There was youth and health in every line of her face: her form, incased
+in a dark dress, which enveloped her bust and fitted around her neck,
+was moulded in the warm loveliness of womanhood, at once mature and
+virgin. Her bonnet thrown aside, her face was disclosed in full light.
+A brow, denoting by its outline, a bold, yet refined intellect; an
+eye, large, lustrous, and looking black by night; a lip that had as
+much of pride as of love in its expression--such were the prominent
+characteristics of her face.
+
+"Why did you leave us so abruptly at Florence?" she exclaimed,--"Ah, I
+know the secret--"
+
+"You know the secret?" echoed Randolph, his heart mounting to his
+throat.
+
+"One of your friends in Florence--a young artist named Waters, betrayed
+you," she said, and laid her gloved hand on his arm, a sunny smile
+playing over her noble countenance. "At least after your departure he
+told your secrets to father."
+
+Randolph started from the sofa, as though a chasm had opened at his
+feet.
+
+"He betrayed me--he! And yet you do not scorn me?"
+
+"Scorn you? Grave matter to create scorn! You have a quarrel with
+your father, and leave home on a run-a-way tour for Europe. There, in
+Europe,--we will say at Florence--you make friends, and run away from
+them, because you are afraid they will think less of you, when they are
+aware that your father _may_ disinherit you. Fie! Randolph, 'twas a
+sorry thing, for you to think so meanly of your friends!"
+
+These words filled Randolph with overwhelming agony.
+
+When she first spoke, he was assured that the _secret of his life_,
+was known to her. He was aghast at the thought, but at the same time,
+overjoyed to know, that the _taint_ of his blood, was not regarded by
+Eleanor as a crime.
+
+But her concluding words revealed the truth. She was not aware of
+the fact. She was utterly mistaken, as to his motive, for his abrupt
+departure from Florence. Instead of the real cause, she assigned one
+which was comparatively frivolous.
+
+"Shall I tell her all?" the thought crossed his mind, as he gazed upon
+her, and he shuddered at the idea.
+
+"And so you thought that our opinion of you, was measured by your
+wealth, or by your want of wealth? For shame Randolph! You are now
+the sole heir of your father, but were it otherwise, Randolph, our
+friendship for you would remain unchanged."
+
+"The sole heir of my father's estate!" Randolph muttered to
+himself,--"I dare not, dare not, tell her the real truth."
+
+But the fascination of that woman's loveliness was upon him. The sound
+of her voice vibrated through every fiber of his being. When he gazed
+into her eyes, he forgot the darkness of his destiny, the taint of his
+blood, the gloom of his heart, and the hopes and fears of his future.
+He lived in the present moment, in the smile, the voice, the glance
+of the woman who sat by him,--her presence was world, home, heaven to
+him--all else was blank nothingness.
+
+"Don't you think that I'm a very strange woman?" she said with a smile,
+and a look of undefinable fascination. "Remember, from my childhood,
+Randolph, I have been deprived of the care and counsel of a mother.
+Without country and without home, I have been hurried with my father
+from place to place, and seen much of the world, and may be learned
+to battle with it. I am not much of a 'woman of society,' Randolph.
+The artificial life led by woman in that conventional world, called
+the 'fashionable,' never had much charm for me. My books, my pencil,
+the society of a friend, the excitement of a journey, the freedom
+to-speak my thoughts without fear of the world's frown,--these,
+Randolph, suit me much better than the life of woman, as she appears
+in the fashionable world. And whenever I transgress the 'decorums' and
+'proprieties,' you will be pleased to remember that I am but a sort of
+a wild woman--a very barbarian in the midst of a civilized world."
+
+Randolph did not say that she was an angel, but he thought that she was
+very beautiful for a wild woman.
+
+She rose.
+
+"Come, let us join father," she said,--"and I am dying to see this
+sister of yours, friend Randolph."
+
+Taking her bonnet in one hand, she left her cloak on the sofa, and
+led the way to the door. At a glance Randolph surveyed her tall and
+magnificent figure. As leaving him, silent and bewildered, on the
+sofa, she turned her face over her shoulder, and looked back upon him,
+Randolph muttered to himself the thought of his soul, in one word,
+"negro!" So much beauty, purity and truth before him, embodied in a
+woman's form, and between that woman and himself an eternal barrier!
+The blood of an accursed race in his veins, the mark of bondage stamped
+upon the inmost fiber of his existence--it was a bitter thought. "You
+are absent, Randolph," she said, and came back to him, "shall I guess
+your thoughts?" She laid her hand upon his shoulder, and bent down
+until he felt her breath upon his forehead.
+
+"You are thinking of the _night in the Apennines_?" she whispered.
+Randolph uttered an incoherent cry of rapture, and reached forth his
+arms, and drew her to his breast.--Their lips met--"You have not
+forgotten it?" he whispered.
+
+She drew back her head as she was girdled by his arms, in order to gaze
+more freely upon his face. Blushing from the throat to the forehead,
+not with shame, but with a passion as warm and as pure as ever lighted
+a woman's bosom, she answered in a whisper:
+
+"Randolph, I love you!"
+
+"Love me! Ah, my God, could I but hope," he gasped.
+
+She laid her hand upon his mouth.
+
+"Hush, I am my father's child. We happen to think alike on subjects of
+importance. If you have not changed since the night in the Apennines,
+why--why, then Randolph, you will find that I am the same. As for my
+father, he always loved you."
+
+When a woman like Eleanor Lynn gives herself away, thus freely and
+without reserve, you may be sure that the passion which she cherishes
+is not of an hour, a day, or a year, but of a lifetime.
+
+Randolph could not reply in coherent words. There was a wild
+ejaculation, a frenzied embrace, a kiss which joined together these
+souls, burning with the fire of a first and stainless love, but there
+was no reply in words.
+
+And all the while, behind the form of Eleanor, Randolph saw a phantom
+shape, which stood between him and his dearest hope. A hideous phantom,
+which said, "Thou art young, and thy face is pale as the palest of the
+race who are born to rule, but the blood of the negro is in thy veins."
+
+At length Randolph rose, and taking her by the hand, led her from the
+room.
+
+"You will see my sister, and love her," said Randolph, as he crossed
+the threshold. A hand was laid gently on his arm, and turning he beheld
+Mr. Hicks, who slipped a letter in his hand, whispering,--
+
+"Pardon me, sir. This was left half an hour ago."
+
+Randolph had no time to read a letter at that moment, so placing
+it in his coat pocket, he led Eleanor up-stairs. They entered the
+drawing-room, and were received by her father with a laugh, and the
+exclamation,--
+
+"So, my boy, you have found this wild girl of mine a _second_ time!
+Confess that we have given you one of the oddest surprises you ever
+encountered!"
+
+Presently Esther and Eleanor stood face to face, and took each other by
+the hand.--Both noble-looking women, of contrasted types of loveliness,
+they stood before the father and Randolph, who gazed upon them with a
+look of silent admiration.
+
+"So, you are Esther!" whispered the daughter of Bernard Lynn.
+
+"And you are Eleanor!" returned the sister of Randolph.
+
+"We shall love each other very much," said Eleanor,--"Come, let us talk
+a little."
+
+They went hand in hand to a recess near the window, and sat down
+together, leaving Randolph and Mr. Lynn alone, near the center of the
+drawing-room.
+
+"Do you know, my boy, that I have a notion to make your house our
+home, while we remain in New York? I hate the noise of a hotel, and
+so using a traveler's privilege, of bluntness, I'll invite myself and
+Eleanor to be your guests. I have letters to the 'first people' of the
+city, but these 'first people,' as they are called, are pretty much
+the same everywhere--cut out of the same piece of cloth, all over the
+world--they tire one dreadfully. If you have no objection, my friend,
+we'll stay with you for a few days at least."
+
+"Of course," Randolph replied to Mr. Lynn in the warmest and most
+courteous manner, concluding with the words, "Esther and myself will be
+too happy to have you for our guests. Make our house your home while
+you remain in New York, and--" he was about to add "forever!"
+
+Mr. Lynn took him warmly by the hand.
+
+"And in a few days, he _must_ learn that I am not the legitimate son
+of my father, but his _slave_," the thought crossed him as he shook
+the hand of Eleanor's father. "This Aladdin's palace will crumble
+into ashes, and this gentleman who now respects me, will turn away in
+derision from Randolph, the slave."
+
+It was a horrible thought.
+
+At this moment Mr. Hicks entered, and announced that dinner was ready.
+They left the room, Randolph with Eleanor on his arm, and Mr. Lynn with
+Esther, and bent their steps toward the dining-room. On the threshold
+Mr. Hicks slipped a letter in the hand of Esther, "It was left for you,
+Miss, half an hour ago," he said, and made one of his mechanical bows.
+Esther took the letter and placed it in her bosom, and Mr. Hicks threw
+open the door of the dining-room.
+
+Randolph could scarce repress an ejaculation of wonder, as (for the
+first time) he beheld this apartment.
+
+It was a spacious room, oval in shape, and with a lofty ceiling, which
+was slightly arched. The walls were covered with pale lilac hangings,
+and fine statues of white marble stood at equal distances around the
+place. In the center stood the table, loaded with viands, and adorned
+with an alabaster vase, filled with freshly-gathered flowers.--Wax
+candles shed a mild light over the scene, and the air was imbued
+at once with a pleasant warmth and with the breath of flowers. The
+service of plate which loaded the table was of massive gold. Everything
+breathed luxury and wealth.
+
+"You planters know how to live!" whispered Bernard Lynn: "By George,
+friend Randolph, you are something of a republican, but it is after the
+Roman school!"
+
+In accordance with Randolph's request, Mr. Lynn took the head of the
+table, with Esther and Eleanor on either hand. Randolph took his seat
+opposite the father of Eleanor, and gazed around with a look of vague
+astonishment. A servant clad in gray livery, fringed with black velvet,
+stood behind each chair, and Mr. Hicks, the imperturbable, retired
+somewhat in the background, presided in silence over the progress of
+the banquet.
+
+"We are not exactly dressed for dinner," laughed Mr. Lynn,--"but you
+will excuse our breach of that most solemn code, profounder than
+Blackstone or Vattel, and called _Etiquette_."
+
+Randolph gazed first at his dark hair, which betrayed some of the
+traces of hazel, and at the costume of Esther, which although it
+displayed her form to the best advantage, was not precisely suited for
+the dinner-table.
+
+"Ah, we southrons care little for etiquette," he replied,--"only to-day
+arrived from the south, Esther and I have had little time to attend to
+the niceties of costume. By-the-bye, friend Lynn, yourself and daughter
+are in the same predicament." And then he muttered to himself, "Still
+the dress is better than the costume of a negro slave."
+
+The dinner passed pleasantly, with but little conversation, and that
+of a light and chatty character. The servants, stationed behind each
+chair, obeyed the wishes of the guests before they were framed in
+words; and Mr. Hicks in the background, managed their movements by
+signs, somewhat after the fashion of an orchestra leader. It was near
+eight o'clock when Esther and Eleanor retired, leaving Randolph and Mr.
+Lynn alone at the table.
+
+"Dismiss these folks," said Bernard Lynn, pointing toward Mr. Hicks and
+the other servants, "and let us have a chat together." At a sign from
+Randolph, Mr. Hicks and the servants left the room.
+
+"Draw your chair near me,--there,--let us look into each other's
+faces. By George! friend Randolph, your wine cellar must be worthy of
+a prince or a bishop! I have just sipped your Tokay, and tasted your
+Champagne,--both are superb. But as I am a traveler, I drink brandy. So
+pass the bottle."
+
+As Mr. Lynn, seated at his ease, filled a capacious goblet with brandy
+from a bottle labeled "1796," Randolph surveyed attentively his face
+and form.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+BERNARD LYNN.
+
+
+Bernard Lynn was a tall and muscular man, somewhat inclined to
+corpulence. His dark complexion was contrasted with the masses of
+snow-white hair, which surrounded his forehead, and the eyebrows, also
+white, which gave additional luster to his dark eyes. His features were
+regular, and there were deep furrows upon his forehead and around his
+mouth. Despite the good-humored smile which played about his lips, and
+the cheerful light which flowed from his eyes, there was at times, a
+haggard look upon his face. One moment all cheerfulness and animation,
+the next instant his face would wear a faded look; the corners of his
+mouth would fall; and his eye become vacant and lusterless.
+
+He emptied the goblet of brandy without once taking it from his lips,
+and the effect was directly seen in his glowing countenance and
+sparkling eyes.
+
+"Ah! that is good brandy," he cried, smacking his lips, and sinking
+back in his chair. "You think I am a deep drinker?" he remarked, after
+a moment's pause.--"Do not wonder at it. There are times in a man's
+life when he is forced to choose between the brandy bottle and the
+knife of the suicide."
+
+At the word, his head sunk and his countenance became clouded and
+sullen.
+
+Before Randolph could reply, he raised his head and exclaimed gayly:
+
+"Do you know, my boy, that I have been a great traveler? Three times I
+have encircled the globe. I have seen most of what is to be seen under
+the canopy of heaven. I have been near freezing to death in Greenland,
+and have been burned almost to a cinder by the broiling sun of India.
+To-day, in the saloons of Paris; a month after in the midst of an
+Arabian desert; and the third month, a wanderer among the ruins of
+ancient Mexico and Yucatan. I have tried all climates, lived with all
+sorts of people, and seen sights that would make the Arabian Nights
+seem but poor and tame by contrast. And now, my boy, I'm tired."
+
+And the wan, haggard look came over his face, as he uttered the word
+"_tired_."
+
+"Your daughter has not accompanied you in these pilgrimages?"
+
+"No. From childhood she was left under careful guardianship, in the
+bosom of an English family, who lived in Florence. Poor child! I have
+often wondered what she has thought of me! To-day I have been with
+her in Florence, and within two months she has received a letter from
+me, from the opposite side of the globe. But as I said before, I am
+_tired_. Were it not for one thing I would like to settle down in your
+country. A fine country,--a glorious country,--only one fault, and that
+very likely will eat you all up."
+
+"Before I ask the nature of the fault, pardon me for an impertinent
+question. Of what country are you? You speak of the English as a
+foreign people; of the Americans in the same manner; yet you speak the
+language without the slightest accent."
+
+The countenance of Mr. Lynn became clouded and sullen.
+
+"I am of no country," he said harshly. "I ceased to have a country,
+about the time Eleanor was born. But another time," his tone became
+milder, "I may tell you all about it."
+
+"And the fault of our country?" said Randolph, anxious to divert the
+thoughts of his friend from some painful memory, which evidently
+absorbed his mind, "what is it?"
+
+Mr. Lynn once more filled and slowly drained his goblet.
+
+"You are the last person to whom I may speak of this fault,--"
+
+"How so?"
+
+"You are a planter. You have been reared under peculiar influences.
+Your mind from childhood has been imperceptibly moulded into a
+certain form, and that form it is impossible to change. You cannot
+see, as I can; for I am a spectator, and you are in the center of the
+conflagration, which I observe from a distance. No, no, Randolph,
+I can't speak of it to you. But you planters will be wakened some
+day--you will. God help you in your awakening--hem!"
+
+Randolph's face became pale as death.
+
+"You speak, my friend, of the question of negro slavery. You surely
+don't consider it an evil. You--you--_hate_ the very mention of the
+race."
+
+Shading his eyes with his uplifted hand, Bernard Lynn said, with slow
+and measured distinctness:
+
+"Do I hate the race? Yes, if you could read my heart, you would find
+hatred to the African race written on its every fiber. The very name
+of negro fills me with loathing." He uttered an oath, and continued in
+a lower tone: "By what horrible fatality was that accursed race ever
+planted upon the soil of the New World!"
+
+Randolph felt his blood boil in his veins; his face was flashed; he
+breathed in gasps.
+
+"And then it is not sympathy for the negro, that makes you look with
+aversion upon the institution of American slavery?"
+
+"Sympathy for a libel upon the race--a hybrid composed of the monkey
+and the man? The idea is laughable. Were the negro in Africa--his own
+country--I might tolerate him. But his presence in any shape, as a
+dweller among people of the white race, is a curse to that race, more
+horrible than the plagues of Egypt or the fires of Gomorrah."
+
+"It is, then, the _influence of negro slavery upon the white race_,
+which concerns you?" faltered Randolph.
+
+"_It is the influence of negro slavery upon the white race_ which
+concerns me," echoed Lynn, with bitter emphasis: "But you are a
+planter. I cannot talk to you. To mention the subject to one of you, is
+to set you in a blaze. By George! how the devils must laugh when they
+see us poor mortals, so eager in the pursuit of our own ruin,--so merry
+as we play with hot coals in the midst of a powder magazine!"
+
+"You may speak to me upon this subject," said Randolph, drawing a long
+breath, "and speak freely."
+
+"It won't do. You are all blind. There, for instance, is the greatest
+man among you; his picture hangs at your back--"
+
+Randolph turned and beheld, for the first time, a portrait which hung
+against the wall behind. It was a sad, stern face, with snow-white
+hair, and a look of intellect, moulded by an iron Destiny. It was the
+likeness of JOHN C. CALHOUN,--Calhoun, the John Calvin of Political
+Economy.
+
+"I knew him when he was a young man," continued Lynn, "I have met and
+conversed with him. Mind, I do not say that we were _intimate friends_!
+A braver man, a truer heart, a finer intellect, never lived beneath
+the sun. _Then_ he felt the evils of this horrible system, and felt
+that the only remedy, was the removal of the entire race to Africa.
+Yes, he felt that the black man could only exist beside the white,
+to the utter degradation of the latter. _Now_, ha! ha! he has grown
+into the belief, that Slavery,--in other words, _the presence of the
+black race in the midst of the white_,--is a blessing. To that belief
+he surrenders everything, intellect, heart, soul, the hope of power,
+and the approbation of posterity. When Calhoun is blind, how can you
+planters be expected to see?"
+
+Randolph was silent. "There is in my veins, the blood of this accused
+race," he muttered to himself.
+
+"In order to look up some of the results of this system," continued
+Bernard Lynn, "let us look at some of the characteristics of the
+American people. The north is a trader; it traffics; it buys; it sells;
+it meets every question with the words, '_Will it pay?_' (As a gallant
+southron once said to me; 'When the north choose a patron saint, a new
+name will be added to the calendar, "SAINT PICAYUNE"'). The South is
+frank, generous, hospitable; there are the virtues of ideal chivalry
+among the southern people. And yet, the north prospers in every sense,
+while the south,--_what is the future of the South?_ The west, noble,
+generous, and free from the traits which mark a nation of mere
+traffickers, _is just what the south would be, were it_ FREE FROM THE
+BLACK RACE. Think of that, friend Randolph! You may glean a bit of
+solid truth from the disconnected remarks of an old traveler."
+
+"But you have not yet instanced a single evil of our institution,"
+interrupted Randolph.
+
+"Are you from the south, and yet, ask me to give you instances of the
+evils of slavery? Pshaw! I tell you man, the evil of slavery consists
+in the presence of the black race in the midst of the whites. That is
+the sum of the matter. You cannot elevate that race save at the expense
+of the whites--not the expense of money, mark you,--but at the expense
+of the physical and mental features of the white race. Don't I speak
+plain enough? The two races cannot live together and _not_ mingle. You
+know it to be impossible. And do you pretend to say, that the mixture
+of black and white, can produce anything but an accursed progeny,
+destitute of the good qualities of each race, and by their very origin,
+at war with both African and Caucasian? Nay, you need not hold your
+head in your hands. It is blunt truth, but it is truth."
+
+The bolt had struck home. Randolph had buried his face in his
+hands,--"I am one of these hybrids," he muttered in agony; "at war at
+the same time, with the race of my father and my mother."
+
+"But, how would you remedy this evil?" he asked, without raising his
+head.
+
+"Remove the whole race to Africa," responded Lynn.
+
+"How can this be done?"
+
+"By one effort of southern will. Instead of attempting to defend the
+system, let the southern people resolve at once, that the _presence of
+the black race_, is the greatest curse that can befall America. This
+resolution made, the means will soon follow. One-fourth the expenses of
+a five years' war would transport the negroes to Africa. One-twentieth
+part of the sum, which will be expended in the next ten years (I say
+nothing of the past) in the quarrel of north and south, about this
+matter, would do the work and do it well. And then, _free from the
+black race_, the south would go to work and mount to her destiny."
+
+"But, what will become of the race, when they are transported to
+Africa?"
+
+"If they are really of the human family, they will show it, by the
+civilization of Africa. They will establish a Nationality for the
+Negro, and plant the arts on seashore and desert. Apart from the white
+race, they can rise into their destiny."
+
+"And if nothing is done?" interrupted Randolph.
+
+"If the south continues to defend, and the north to quarrel about
+slavery,--if instead of making one earnest effort to do something with
+the evil, they break down national good-feeling, and waste millions of
+money in mutual threats,--why, in that case, it needs no prophet to
+foretell the future of the south. That future will realize one of two
+conditions--"
+
+He paused, and after a moment, repeated with singular emphasis, "_St.
+Domingo!--St. Domingo!_"
+
+"And the other condition," said Randolph.
+
+"The whole race will be stript of all its noble qualities, and
+swallowed up in a race, composed of black and white, and cursing the
+very earth they tread. In the south, the white race will in time be
+_annihilated_. That garden of the world, composed, I know not of how
+many states,--extending from the middle states to the gulf, and from
+the Atlantic to the Mississippi,--will repeat on a colossal scale, the
+horrible farce, which the world has seen, in the case of St. Domingo."
+
+Bernard Lynn again filled his goblet, and slowly sipped the brandy,
+while the fire faded from his eyes, the corners of his mouth fell,--his
+face became faded and haggard again.
+
+Randolph, seated near him, his elbow on his knee, and his forehead
+supported by his hand, was buried in thought. His face was averted from
+the light: the varied emotions which convulsed it in every lineament,
+were concealed from the observation of Bernard Lynn.
+
+Thus they remained for a long time, each buried in his own peculiar
+thoughts.
+
+"Randolph," said Bernard Lynn,--and there was something so changed and
+singular in his tone, that Randolph started--"draw near to me. I wish
+to speak with you."
+
+Randolph looked up, and was astonished by the change which had passed
+over the face of the traveler. His eyes flashed wildly, his features
+were one moment fixed and rigid and the next, tremulous and quivering
+with strong emotion; the veins were swollen on his broad forehead.
+
+"Randolph," he said, in a low, agitated voice, "I am a Carolinian."
+
+"A Carolinian?" echoed Randolph.
+
+"The name of Bernard Lynn is not my real name. It is an assumed name,
+Randolph. Assumed, do you hear me?" his eyes flashed more wildly, and
+he seized Randolph's hand, and unconsciously wrung it with an almost
+frenzied clutch--"Assumed some seventeen years ago, when I forsook my
+home, my native soil, and became a miserable wanderer on the face of
+the earth. Do you know why I assumed that name,--do you know?--"
+
+He paused as if suffocated by his emotions. After a moment he resumed
+in a lower, deeper voice,--
+
+"Did you ever hear the name of ---- ----?"
+
+"It is the name of one of the first and oldest families of Carolina,"
+responded Randolph. "A name renowned in her history, but now extinct, I
+believe."
+
+"That is my name, my real name, which I have forsaken forever, for
+the one which I now bear," resumed Bernard Lynn. "I am the last male
+representative of the family. Seventeen years ago my name disappeared
+from Carolina. I left home--my native land--all the associations that
+make life dear, and became a miserable exile. And why?"
+
+He uttered an oath, which came sharp and hissing through his clenched
+teeth.
+
+Profoundly interested, Randolph, as if fascinated, gazed silently into
+the flashing eyes of Bernard Lynn.
+
+"I was young,--rich,--the inheritor of an honored name," continued
+Bernard Lynn, in hurried tones,--"and I was married, Randolph, married
+to a woman of whom Eleanor is the living picture,--a woman as noble in
+soul, and beautiful in form as ever trod God's earth. One year after
+our marriage, when Eleanor was a babe,--nearer to me, Randolph,--I left
+my plantation in the evening, and went on a short visit to Charleston.
+I came home the next day, and where I had left my wife living and
+beautiful, I found only a mangled and dishonored corpse."
+
+His head fell upon his breast,--he could not proceed.
+
+"This is too horrible!" ejaculated Randolph,--"too horrible to be real."
+
+Bernard raised his head, and clutching Randolph's hands--
+
+"The sun was setting, and his beams shone warmly through the western
+windows as I entered the bedchamber. Oh! I can see it yet,--I can see
+it now,--the babe sleeping on the bed, while the mother is stretched
+upon the floor, lifeless and weltering in her blood. Murdered and
+dishonored--murdered and dishonored--"
+
+As though those words, "murdered and dishonored," had choked his
+utterance, he paused, and uttered a groan, and once more his head fell
+on his breast.
+
+At this moment, even as Randolph, absorbed by the revelation, sits
+silent and pale, gazing upon the bended head of the old man,--at this
+moment look yonder, and behold the form of a woman, who with finger on
+her lip, stands motionless near the threshold.
+
+Randolph is not aware of her presence--the old man cannot see her, for
+there is agony like death in his heart, and his head is bowed upon his
+breast; but there she stands, motionless as though stricken into stone,
+by the broken words which she has heard.
+
+It is Eleanor Lynn.
+
+On the very threshold she was arrested by the deep tones of her
+father's voice,--she listened,--and for the first time heard the story
+of her mother's death.
+
+And now, stepping backward, her eye riveted on her father's form, she
+seeks to leave the room unobserved,--she reaches the threshold, when
+her father's voice is heard once more:--
+
+"Ask me not for details, ask me not," he cried in broken tones, as once
+more he raised his convulsed countenance to the light "The author of
+this outrage was not a man, but a negro,--a demon in a demon's shape;
+and"--he smiled, but there was no merriment in his smile,--"and now you
+know why I left home, native land, all the associations which make life
+dear, seventeen years ago. Now you know why I hate the accursed race."
+
+As he spoke, Eleanor Lynn glided from the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+"YES, YOU WILL MEET HIM."
+
+
+As midnight drew near, Randolph was alone in his bedchamber,--a
+spacious chamber, magnificently furnished, and illumined by a single
+candle, which stood upon a rosewood table near the lofty bed. Seated
+in a chair, with his cloak thrown over his shoulders, and an opened
+letter in his hand, Randolph's eyes were glassy with profound thought.
+His face was very pale; a slight trembling of the lip, an occasional
+heaving of the chest, alone made him appear less motionless than a
+statue.
+
+The letter which he held was the one which Mr. Hicks had given him,
+some three hours before, but he did not seem to be occupied with its
+contents.
+
+"It look like a bridal chamber," he muttered, as his eye roved round
+the spacious apartment, "and this white couch like a bridal bed,"--a
+bitter smile crossed his face. "Think of it--the bridal bed of Eleanor
+Lynn and--the white slave!"
+
+And he relapsed into his reverie; or rather, into a train of thought,
+which had occupied him for two hours at least, while he sat silent and
+motionless in his chamber.
+
+Oh, dark and bitter thoughts--filling every vein with fire, and
+swelling every avenue of the brain with the hot pulsations of madness!
+The image of Eleanor, the story told two hours ago by Bernard Lynn,
+and the taint that corrupted the life-blood in his veins,--all these
+mingled in his thoughts, and almost drove him mad.
+
+"And from this labyrinth, what way of escape? Will Eleanor be mine,
+when she learns that I am of the accursed race of the wretch who first
+dishonored and then outraged her mother? And the father,--ah!"
+
+He passed his hand over his brow, as if to banish these thoughts, and
+then perused the letter which he held in his hand,--
+
+"It is signed by my 'unknown friend of the half-way house,' and desires
+me, for certain reasons, to be at a particular locality, in the Five
+Points, at ten minutes past twelve. It is now,"--he took his gold watch
+from his pocket,--"half past eleven. I must be moving. A singular
+request, and a mysterious letter; but I will obey."
+
+On the table lay a leather belt, in which were inserted two
+bowie-knives and a revolving pistol. Randolph wound it about his waist,
+and then drew a cap over his brow, and gathered his cloak more closely
+to his form.
+
+He next extinguished the candle, and stole softly from the room. As
+he descended the stairway, all was still throughout the mansion. The
+servants had retired, and Eleanor, Esther, and the old man, no doubt,
+were sound asleep. Randolph passed along the hall, and opening the
+front door, crossed its threshold.
+
+"Now for the adventure," he ejaculated, and hurried down Broadway.
+After nearly half an hour's walk, he turned into one of those streets
+which lead from the light and uproar of Broadway, toward the region
+of the Tombs.
+
+Darkness was upon the narrow street, and his footsteps alone broke the
+dead stillness, as he hurried along.
+
+As he reached a solitary lamp, which gave light to a portion of the
+street, his ear caught the echo of footsteps behind: and impelled by
+an impulse which he could not himself comprehend, Randolph paused,
+and concealed his form in the shadow of a deep doorway. From where he
+stood, by the light of the lamp, (which was not five paces distant,) he
+could command a view of any wayfarer who might chance to pass along the
+deserted street.
+
+The footsteps drew nearer, and presently two persons came in sight.
+They halted beneath the lamp. Randolph could not see their faces, but
+he remarked that one was short and thick-set in form, while the other
+was tall and commanding. The tall one wore a cloak, and the other an
+overcoat.
+
+And Randolph heard their voices--
+
+"Are we near the hound? My back hurts like the devil, and I don't wish
+to go any farther than is necessary."
+
+"Only a block or two, to go," replied the other. "Judas Iscariot! Just
+think that we're sure to find _him_ there, Royalton, and your back
+won't hurt a bit."
+
+"Oh, by ----! let me but find _him_, and stand face to face with _him_,
+and I'll take care of the rest."
+
+These words, accompanied by an oath, and uttered with the emphasis of a
+mortal hatred, were all that Randolph heard.
+
+The twain proceeded on their way.
+
+It was not until the sound of their footsteps had died away, that
+Randolph emerged from his hiding-place--
+
+"Yes, you will meet _him_, and stand face to face with _him_, and--the
+rest is yet to be known."
+
+He felt for his knives and pistols,--they were safe in the belt about
+his waist; and then, conscious that the crisis of his fate was near at
+hand, he silently pursued his way.
+
+Return for a moment to the house in Broadway.
+
+Esther is there, alone in her chamber, standing before a mirror, with
+a light in her hand. The mirror reaches from the ceiling to the floor;
+and never did mirror image forth before, a face and form so perfectly
+beautiful.
+
+She has changed her attire. The green habit no longer incloses her
+form. A dress or robe of spotless white, leaves her neck and shoulders
+bare, rests in easy folds upon her proud bust, and is girdled gently
+to her waist by a sash of bright scarlet. The sleeves are wide, the
+folds loose and flowing, and the sleeves and the hem of the skirt are
+bordered by a line of crimson. The only ornament which she wears is not
+a diamond, brooch or bracelet, not even a ring upon her delicate hand,
+but a single lily, freshly gathered, which gleams pure and white from
+the blackness of her hair.
+
+And what need she of ornament? A very beautiful woman, with a noble
+form, a voluptuous bust; a face pale as marble, ripening into vivid
+bloom on the lip and cheek, relieved by jet-black hair, and illumined
+by eyes that, flashing from their deep fringes, burn with wild, with
+maddening light. A very beautiful woman, who, as she surveys herself
+in the mirror, knows that she is beautiful, and feels her pulse swell,
+her bosom heave slowly into light, her blood bound with the fullness of
+life in every vein.
+
+One hand holds the light above her dark hair--the other the letter
+which, three hours and more ago, she received from Mr. Hicks.
+
+"It requested me to attire myself in the dress which I would find in my
+chamber, the costume of Lucretia Borgia. And I have obeyed. And then to
+enter the carriage, which at a quarter past twelve, will await me at
+the next corner, and bear me to _the Temple_. I will obey."
+
+She smiled--a smile that disclosed the ivory of her teeth, the ripeness
+of her lips--lit up her eyes with new light, and was responded to by
+the swell of her proud bosom.
+
+Take care Esther! You wear the dress of Lucretia Borgia, and you are
+even more madly beautiful than that accursed child of the Demon-Pope;
+but have a care. You are yet spotless and pure. But the blood is warm
+in your veins, and perchance there is ambition as well as passion in
+the fire which burns in your eyes. Have a care! The future is yet to
+come, Esther, and who can tell what it will bring forth for you?
+
+"I will meet Godlike there," she said, and an inexplicable smile
+animated her face.
+
+She placed a small poniard in the folds of her sash, and threw a heavy
+cloak, to which was attached a hood, over her form. She drew the hood
+over her face, and stood ready to depart.
+
+The light was extinguished. She glided from the room, and down the
+stairs, and passed unobserved from the silent house. At the corner of
+the next street the carriage waited with the driver on the box.
+
+"Who are you?" she said in a low voice.
+
+"The Temple," answered the driver, and descended from the box, and
+opened the carriage door.
+
+Esther entered, the door was closed, the carriage whirled away.
+
+"What will be the result of the adventures of this night?" she thought,
+and her bosom heaved with mad agitation.
+
+And as she was thus borne to the Temple, there was a woman watching
+by the bedside of an old man, in one of the chambers of the Broadway
+mansion,--Eleanor watching while her father slept.
+
+Her night-dress hung in loose folds about her noble form, as she arose
+and held the dim light nearer to his gray hairs. There was agony
+stamped upon his face, even as he slept--an agony which was reflected
+in the pallid face and tremulous lips of his daughter.
+
+"He sleeps!" she exclaimed in a low voice: "Little does he fancy that
+I know the fearful history which this night fell from his lips. And
+this night, before he retired to rest, he clasped me to his bosom,
+and said--" she blushed in neck and cheek and brow,--"that it was the
+dearest wish of his heart, that I should be united to Randolph."
+
+She kissed him gently on the brow, and crept noiselessly to her own
+room, and soon was asleep, the image of Randolph prominent in her
+dreams.
+
+Poor Eleanor!
+
+Leaving Randolph, his sister, and those connected with their fate, our
+history now turns to other characters.
+
+Let us enter the house of the merchant prince.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+IN THE HOUSE OF THE MERCHANT PRINCE.
+
+
+It was near eleven o'clock, on the night of December 23d, 1844, when
+Evelyn Somers, Sen., sitting in his library by the light of the shaded
+candle, was startled by the ringing of the bell.
+
+"The front door-bell!" he ejaculated, looking up from his labors, until
+the candle shone full upon his thin features and low forehead. "Can
+it be Evelyn? Oh! I forgot. He returned only this evening. One of the
+servants, I suppose--been out late--must look to this in the morning."
+
+He resumed his pen, and again, surrounded by title-deeds and mortgages,
+bent down to his labors.
+
+So deeply was he absorbed that he did not hear the opening of the front
+door, followed by a footstep in the hall. Nor did he hear the stealthy
+opening of the door of the library; much less did he see the burly
+figure which advanced on tiptoe to his table.
+
+"Be calm!" said a gruff voice, and a hand was laid on his shoulder.
+
+"Hey! What? Who,--who--are--you?" The merchant prince started in his
+chair, and beheld a burly form enveloped in a bear-skin overcoat and
+full-moon face, spotted with carbuncles.
+
+"Be calm!" said the owner of the face, in a hoarse voice. "There's no
+occasion to alarm yourself. These things will happen."
+
+The merchant prince was thoroughly amazed.
+
+Opening his small eyes, half concealed by heavy lids, to their fullest
+extent, he cried: "What do you mean? Who are you?--I don't know you?
+What--what--"
+
+"I'm Blossom, I am," returned the full-moon face, "_Lay low! Keep
+dark!_ I'm Blossom, one of the _secret police_. Lay low!"
+
+"My God! Is Evelyn in another scrape?" ejaculated the merchant prince;
+"I will pay for no more of his misdeeds. There's no use of talking
+about it. I'll not go his bail, if he rots in the Tombs. I'll--" Mr.
+Somers doggedly folded his arms, and sat bolt upright in his chair.
+
+With his contracted features, spare form and formal white cravat, he
+looked the very picture of an unrelenting father.
+
+"Come, hoss, there's no use of that."
+
+"Hoss! Do you apply such words to me," indignantly echoed the merchant
+prince.
+
+"Be calm," soothingly remarked Blossom. "Lay low. Keep dark. Jist
+answer me one question: Has your son Evelyn a _soot_ o' rooms in the
+upper part o' this house?"
+
+"What do you ask such a question for?" and Mr. Somers opened his eyes
+again. "He has all the rooms on the third floor, in the body of the
+mansion--there are four in all."
+
+"Very good. Now, is Evelyn at home?" asked Blossom.
+
+"Don't come so near. The smell of brandy is offensive to me. Faugh!"
+
+"You'll smell brimstone, if you don't take keer!" exclaimed the
+indignant Blossom. "To think o' sich ingratitude from an old cock like
+you, when I've come to keep that throat o' yourn from bein' cut by
+robbers."
+
+"Robbers!" and this time Mr. Somers fairly started from his seat.
+
+"When I've come to purtect your _jugular_,--yes, you needn't
+wink,--your _jugular!_ Oh, it was not for nothing that a Roman consul
+once remarked that republics is ungrateful."
+
+"Robbers? Robbers! What d'ye mean? Speak--speak--"
+
+Blossom laid his hand upon the merchant's shoulder.
+
+"If you'll promise to keep a secret, and not make a fuss. I'll tell you
+all. If you go for raisin' a hellabaloo, I'll walk out and leave your
+jugular to take care of itself."
+
+"I promise, I promise," ejaculated the merchant.
+
+"Then, while you are sittin' in that ere identical chair, there's
+two crackmen--burglars, you know,--hid up-stairs in your son's room.
+They're a-waitin' until you put out the lights, and go to sleep, and
+then,--your cash-box and jugulars the word?--Why, I wouldn't insure
+your throat for all your fortin."
+
+The merchant prince was seized with a fit of trembling.
+
+"Robbers! in my house! Astounding, a-s-t-o-u-n-d-i-n-g! How did they
+get in?"
+
+"By your son's night-key, and the front door. You see I was arter these
+crackmen to-night, and found 'em in a garret of the Yaller Mug. You
+never patronize the Yaller Mug, do you?"
+
+Mr. Somers nodded "No," with a spasmodic shake of the head.
+
+"Jist afore I pitched into 'em, I listened outside of the garret door,
+and overheard their plot to conceal themselves in Evelyn's room, until
+you'd all gone to bed, and then commence operations on your cash-box
+and jugular. One o' 'em's a convict o' eleven years' standin'. He's
+been regularly initiated into all the honors of Auburn and Cherry Hill."
+
+"And you arrested them?"
+
+"Do you see this coverlet about my head? That's what I got for
+attemptin' it. They escaped from the garret, by getting upon the roof,
+and jumpin' down on a shed. If my calculations are correct, they're
+up-stairs jist now, preparin' for their campaign on your cash-box and
+jugular."--
+
+"Cash-box! I have no cash-box. My cash is all in bank!"
+
+"Gammon. It won't do. Behind yer seat is yer iron safe,--one o' th'
+Salamanders; you're got ten thousand in gold, in _that_."
+
+Mr. Somers changed color.
+
+"They intend to blow up the lock with powder, after they'd fixed your
+_jugular_."
+
+Mr. Somers clasped his hands, and shook like a leaf.
+
+"What's to be done, what's to be done!" he cried in perfect agony.
+
+"There's six o' my fellows outside. I've got a special warrant from
+the authorities. Now, if you've a key to Evelyn's rooms, we'll just go
+up-stairs and search 'em. You can stand outside, while we go in. But no
+noise,--no fuss you know."
+
+"But they'll murder you," cried the merchant, "they'll murder me.
+They'll,"--
+
+Blossom drew a six-barreled revolver from one pocket, and a slung-shot
+from the other.
+
+"This is my _settler_," he elevated his revolver, "and this, my _gentle
+persuader_," he brandished the slung-shot.
+
+"Oh!" cried Mr. Somers, "property is no longer respected,--ah! what
+times we've fallen in!"
+
+"How many folks have you in the house?"
+
+"The servants sleep in the fourth story, over Evelyn's room. The
+housekeeper sleeps under Evelyn's room, and my room and the room of my
+private secretary are just above where I am sitting."
+
+"Good. Now take the candle, and come," responded Blossom, "we want you
+as a witness."
+
+The merchant prince made many signs of hesitation,--winking his heavy
+lids, rubbing his low forehead with both hands, and pressing his
+pointed chin between his thumb and forefinger,--but Blossom seized the
+candle, and made toward the door.
+
+"You are not going to leave me in the dark?" cried Mr. Somers, bounding
+from his chair.
+
+"Not if you follow the light," responded Blossom; "by-the-by, you may
+as well bring the keys to Evelyn's room."
+
+With a trembling hand, Mr. Somers lifted a huge bunch of keys from the
+table.
+
+"There, open all the rooms on the second and fourth floors," he said,
+and followed Blossom into the hall.
+
+There, shoulder to shoulder, stood six stout figures, in glazed caps
+and great coats of rough, dark-colored cloth, with a mace or a pistol
+protruding from every pocket. They stood as silent as blocks of stone.
+
+"Boys," whispered Blossom, "we'll go up first. You follow and station
+yerselves on the second landin', so as to be ready when I whistle."
+
+A murmur of assent was heard, and Blossom, light in hand, led the
+merchant prince toward the stairway which led upward from the center
+of the hall. At the foot of the stairway, they were confronted by a
+servant-maid, who had answered the bell when Blossom first rang: her
+red, round cheeks were pale as ashes, and she clung to the railing of
+the staircase for support.
+
+"Och, murther!" she ejaculated, as she beheld the red face of Blossom,
+and the frightened visage of her master.
+
+Blossom seized her arm with a tight grip.
+
+"Look here, Biddy, do you know how to sleep?" was the inquiry of the
+rubicund gentleman.
+
+"Slape?" echoed the girl, with eyes like saucers.
+
+"'Cause if you don't go back into the kitchen, and put yourself into
+a sound sleep d'rectly; yourself, your master and me, will all be
+murdered in our beds. It 'ud hurt my feelin's, Biddy, to see you with
+your throat cut, and sich a nice fat throat as it is!"
+
+Biddy uttered a groan, and shrunk back behind the stairway.
+
+"Now then!" and Blossom led the way up-stairs, followed by the lean,
+angular form of the merchant prince, who turned his head over his
+shoulder, like a man afraid of ghosts.
+
+They arrived at the small entry at the head of the stairs, on the third
+floor; three doors opened into the entry; one on the right, one on the
+left, and the third directly in the background, facing the head of the
+stairs.
+
+"Hush!" whispered Blossom, "do you hear any noise?"
+
+Advancing on tip-toe, he crouched against the door on the right, and
+listened. In an instant he came back to the head of the stairs, where
+stood Mr. Somers, shaking in every nerve.
+
+"It's a snore," said Blossom, "jist go and listen, and see if it's your
+son's snore."
+
+It required much persuasion to induce the merchant prince to take the
+step.
+
+"Where are your men?"
+
+Blossom pointed over the merchant's shoulder, to the landing beneath.
+There, in the gloom, stood the six figures, shoulder to shoulder, and
+as motionless as stone.
+
+"Now will you go?"
+
+Mr. Somers advanced, and placed his head against the door on the right.
+After a brief pause, he returned to the head of the stairs where
+Blossom stood. "It is not my son's _snore_," he said, "that is, if I am
+any judge of _snores_."
+
+Blossom took the light and the keys, and advanced to the door on the
+right, which he gently tried to open, but found it locked. Making a
+gesture of caution to the merchant prince, he selected the key of the
+door from the bunch, softly inserted it, and as softly turned it in
+the lock. The door opened with a sound. Then stepping on tip-toe, he
+crossed the threshold, taking the light with him.
+
+Mr. Somers, left alone in the dark, felt his heart march to his throat.
+
+"I shall be murdered,--I know I shall," he muttered, when the light
+shone on his frightened face again. Blossom stood in the doorway,
+beckoning to him.
+
+Somers advanced and crossed the threshold.
+
+"Look there," whispered Blossom "now d'ye believe me?"
+
+A huge man, dressed in the jacket and trowsers of a convict, was
+sleeping on the bed, his head thrown back, his mouth wide open, and
+one arm hanging over the bedside. His chest heaved with long, deep
+respirations, and his nostrils emitted a snore of frightful depth.
+
+At this confirmation of the truth of Blossom's statement, Mr. Somers'
+face became as white as his cravat.
+
+"Look _there_!" whispered Blossom, pointing to a pistol which lay upon
+the carpet, almost within reach of the brawny hand which hung over the
+bed-side.
+
+"Good God! ejaculated Somers.
+
+"Now look _there_!" Blossom pointed to the brandy bottle on the table,
+and held the light near it. "_Empty!_ d'ye see?"
+
+Then Blossom drew from his capacious pocket, certain pieces of rope,
+each of which was attached to the middle of a piece of hickory, as
+hard as iron.
+
+"Hold the light," and like a nurse attending to a sleeping babe, the
+ingenious Blossom gently attached one of the aforesaid pieces of rope
+to the ankles of the sleeper, in such a manner, that the two pieces of
+hickory,--one at either end of the rope,--formed a knot, which a giant
+would have found it hard to break. As the ankles rested side by side,
+this feat was not so difficult.
+
+"Now for the wrists," and Blossom quietly regarded the position of the
+sleeper's hands. One was doubled on his huge chest, the other hung over
+the bedside. To straighten one arm and lift the other,--to do this
+gently and without awaking the sleeper,--to tie both wrists together
+as he had tied the ankles,--this was a difficult task, but Blossom
+accomplished it. Once the convict moved. "_Don't give it up so easy!_"
+he muttered and snored again.
+
+Blossom surveyed him with great satisfaction.--"There's muscle, and
+bone, and fists,--did you ever see sich fists!"
+
+"A perfect brute!" ejaculated Somers.
+
+"Now you stay here, while I go into the next room, and hunt for the
+tother one."
+
+This room, it will be remembered, communicated with an adjoining
+apartment by folding-doors. Blossom took the candle and listened; all
+was silent beyond the folding-doors. He carefully opened these doors,
+and light in hand, went into the next apartment. A belt of light
+came through the aperture, and fell upon the tall, spare form of the
+merchant prince, who, standing in the center of the _first_ apartment
+gazed through the aperture just mentioned, into the _second_ room. All
+the movements of Blossom were open to his gaze.
+
+He saw him approach a bed, whose ruffled coverlet indicated that a man
+was sleeping there. He saw him bend over this bed, but the burly form
+of the police-officer hid the face of the sleeper from the sight of the
+merchant prince. He saw him lift the coverlet, and stand for a moment,
+as if gazing upon the sleeping man, and then saw him start abruptly
+from the bed, and turn his step toward the _first_ room.
+
+"What's the matter with _you_," cried the merchant prince, "are _you_
+frightened?"
+
+Truth to tell, the full-moon face of Blossom, spotted with carbuncles,
+had somewhat changed its color.
+
+"Can't you speak? It's Evelyn who's sleeping yonder,--isn't it? Hadn't
+you better wake him quietly?"
+
+"Ah my feller," and the broken voice of Blossom, showed that he was
+_human_ after all--all that he had seen in his lifetime,--"Ah my
+feller, he'll never wake again."
+
+Somers uttered a cry, seized the light and strode madly into the next
+room, and turned the bed where the sleeper laid. The fallen jaw, the
+fixed eyeballs, the hand upon the chest, stained with the blood which
+flowed from the wound near the heart--he saw it all, and uttered a
+horrible cry, and fell like a dead man upon the floor.
+
+Blossom seized the light from his hand as he fell, and turning back
+into the first room blew his whistle. The room was presently occupied
+by the six assistants.
+
+"There's been murder done here to-night," he said, gruffly: "Potts,
+examine that pistol near the bed. Unloaded, is it? Gentlemen, take a
+look at the prisoner and then follow me."
+
+He led the way into the second room, and they all beheld the dead body
+of Evelyn Somers.
+
+"Two of you carry the old man down stairs and try and rewive him;" two
+of the assistants lifted the insensible form of the merchant prince,
+and bore it from the room. "Now, gentlemen, we'll wake the prisoner."
+
+He approached the sleeping convict, followed by four of the policemen,
+whose faces manifested unmingled horror. He struck the sleeping man on
+the shoulder,--"Wake up Gallus. Wake up Gallus, I say!"
+
+After another blow, Ninety-One unclosed his eyes, and looked around
+with a vague and stupefied stare. It was not until he sat up in bed,
+that he realized the fact, that his wrists and ankles were pinioned.
+His gaze wandered from the face of Blossom to the countenances of the
+other police-officers, and last of all, rested upon his corded hands.
+
+"My luck," he said, quietly,--"curse you, you needn't awakened a fellow
+in his sleep. Why couldn't you have waited till mornin'?"
+
+And he sank back on the bed again. Blossom seized a pitcher filled
+with water, which stood upon a table, and dashed the contents in the
+convict's face.
+
+Thoroughly awake, and thoroughly enraged, Ninety-One started up in the
+bed, and gave utterance to a volley of curses.
+
+Blossom made a sign with his hand; the four policemen seized the
+convict and bore him into the second room, while Blossom held the light
+over the dead man's livid face and bloody chest.
+
+"Do you see that bullet-hole?" said Blossom; "the pistol was found
+a-side of your bed, near your hand. Gallus, you'll have to dance on
+nothin', I'm werry much afeard you will. But it 'ill take a strong rope
+to hang you."
+
+"What!" shouted Ninety-One, "you don't mean to say,--" he cast a
+horrified look at the dead man, and then, like a flash of lightning,
+the whole matter became as plain as day to him. "Oh, Thirty-One,"
+he groaned between his set-teeth, "this is your dodge,--is it? Oh,
+Thirty-One, this is another little item in our long account."
+
+"What do you say?" asked one of the policemen. Ninety-One relapsed into
+a dogged silence. They could not force another word from him. Carrying
+him back into the first room, they laid him on the bed, and secured
+his ankles and wrists with additional cords. Meanwhile, they could
+peruse at their leisure, that face, whose deep jaw, solid chin, and
+massive throat, covered with a stiff beard, manifested at once, immense
+muscular power, and an indomitable will. The eyes of the convict,
+overhung by his bushy brows, the cheeks disfigured by a hideous scar,
+the square forehead, with the protuberance in the center, appearing
+amid masses of gray hair,--all these details, were observed by the
+spectators, as they added new cords to the ankles and the wrists of
+Ninety-One.
+
+His chest shook with a burst of laughter, "Don't give it up so easy!"
+he cried, "I'll be even with you yet, Thirty-One."
+
+"S'arch all the apartments,--we must find his comrade," exclaimed
+Blossom,--"a pale-faced young devil, whom I seen with him, last night,
+in the cars."
+
+Ninety-One started, even as he lay pinioned upon the bed.--"Oh,
+Thirty-One," he groaned, "and you must bring the boy in it, too, must
+you? Just add another figure to our account."
+
+The four rooms were thoroughly searched, but the comrade was not found.
+
+"Come, boys," said Blossom, "we'll go down-stairs and talk this matter
+over. Gallus," directing his conversation to Ninety-One, "we'll see you
+again, presently."
+
+Ninety-One saw them cross the threshold, and heard the key turn in the
+lock. He was alone in the darkness, and with the dead.
+
+As Blossom, followed by the policemen, passed down stairs, he was
+confronted on the second landing by the affrighted servants,--some of
+them but thinly clad,--who assailed him with questions. Instead of
+answering these multiplied queries, Blossom addressed his conversation
+to a portly dame of some forty years, who appeared in her night-dress
+and with an enormous night-cap.
+
+"The housekeeper, I believe, Ma'am?"
+
+"Yes, sir,--Mrs. Tompkins," replied the dame, "Oh, do tell me, what
+does this all mean?"
+
+"How's the old gentleman?" asked Blossom.
+
+"In his room. He's reviving. Mr. Van Huyden, his private secretary is
+with him. But do tell us the truth of this affair--what--what, does it
+all mean?"
+
+"Madam, it means murder and blood and an old convict. Excuse me, I must
+go--down-stairs."
+
+While the house rang with the exclamations of his affrighted listeners,
+Blossom passed down stairs, and, with his assistants, entered the
+Library.
+
+"The question afore the house, gentlemen, is as follows,"--and Blossom
+sank into the chair of the merchant prince--"Shill we keep the prisoner
+up-stairs all night, or shill we take him to the Tombs?"
+
+Various opinions were given by the policemen, and the debate assumed
+quite an animated form, Blossom, in all the dignity of his bear-skin
+coat and carbuncled visage, presiding as moderator.
+
+"Address the cheer," he mildly exclaimed, as the debate grew warm.
+"Allow me to remark, gentlemen, that Stuffletz, there, is very
+sensible. Stuff., you think as the coroner's inquest will be held
+up-stairs by arly daylight to-morrow mornin' it 'ud be better to keep
+the prisoner there so as to confront him with the body? That's your
+opinion, Stuff. Well, I can't speak for you, gentlemen, as I don't
+b'long to the reg'lar police,--(I'm only an _extra_, you know!)--but
+it seems to me, Stuff. is right. Therefore, let the prisoner stay
+up-stairs all night; the room is safe, and I'll watch him mesself.
+Beside, you don't think he's a-goin' to tumble himself out of a third
+story winder, or vanish in a puff o' brimstone, as the devil does in
+the new play at the Bowery--do you?"
+
+There was no one to gainsay the strong position thus assumed by
+Poke-Berry Blossom, Esq.
+
+"And then I kin have a little private chat with him, in regard to the
+$71,000,--I guess I can," he muttered to himself.
+
+"What's the occasion of this confusion?" said a bland voice; and, clad
+in his elegant white coat, with his cloak drooping from his right
+shoulder, Colonel Tarleton advanced from the doorway to the light.
+"Passing by I saw Mr. Somers' door open, and hear an uproar,--what is
+the matter, gentlemen? My old friend, Mr. Somers, is not ill, I hope?"
+
+"Evelyn, his son, has been shot," bluntly responded Blossom--"by an
+old convict, who had hid himself in the third story, with the idea o'
+attackin' old Somers' cash-box and jugular."
+
+Colonel Tarleton, evidently shocked, raised his hand to his forehead
+and staggered to a chair.
+
+"Evelyn shot!" he gasped, after a long pause.--"Surely you dream. The
+particulars, the particulars--"
+
+Blossom recapitulated the particulars of the case, according to the
+best of his knowledge.
+
+"It is too horrible, too horrible," cried Tarleton, and his extreme
+agitation was perceptible to the policemen. "My young friend Evelyn
+murdered! Ah!--" he started from the chair, and fell back again with
+his head in his hands.
+
+"But we've got the old rag'muffin," cried Blossom, "safe and tight;
+third story, back room."
+
+Tarleton started from the chair and approached Blossom,--his pale face
+stamped with hatred and revenge.
+
+"Mr. Blossom," he said, and snatched the revolver from the pocket of
+the rubicund gentleman. "Hah! it's loaded in six barrels! Murdered
+Evelyn--in the back room you say--I'll have the scoundrel's life!"
+
+He snatched the candle from the table, and rushed to the door. The
+policemen did not recover from their surprise, until they heard his
+steps on the stairs.
+
+"After him, after him,--there'll be mischief," shouted Blossom, and
+he rushed after Tarleton, followed by the six policemen. Tarleton's
+shouts of vengeance resounded through the house, and once more drew the
+servants, both men and women, to the landing-place at the head of the
+stairs. That figure attracted every eye--a man attired in a white coat,
+his face wild, his hair streaming behind him, a loaded pistol in one
+hand and a light in the other.
+
+"Ketch his coat-tails," shouted Blossom, and, followed by policemen and
+servant-maids, he rushed up the second stairway.
+
+He found Tarleton in the act of forcing the door on the _right_, which
+led into the room where Ninety-One was imprisoned.
+
+"It is locked! Damnation!" shouted Tarleton, roaring like a madman.
+"Will no one give me the key?"
+
+"I'll tell you what I'll give you," was the remark of Blossom. "I'll
+give you _one_ under yer ear, if you don't keep quiet,--"
+
+But his threat came too late. Tarleton stepped back and then plunged
+madly against the door. It yielded with a crash. Then, with Blossom
+and the crowd at his heels, he rushed into the room, brandishing the
+pistol, as the light which he held fell upon his convulsed features,--
+
+"Where is the wretch?--show him to me! Where is the murderer of poor
+Evelyn?"
+
+Blossom involuntarily turned his eyes toward the bed. It was empty.
+Ninety-One was not there. His gaze traversed the room: a door, looking
+like the doorway of a closet, stood wide open opposite the bed. It
+required but a moment to ascertain that the door opened upon a stairway.
+
+"By ----!" shouted Blossom, "he's gone! His comrade has been concealed
+somewhere, and has cut him loose."
+
+"Gone!" echoed police-officers and servants.
+
+"Gone!" ejaculated Tarleton, and fell back into a chair, and his head
+sunk upon his breast.
+
+There he remained muttering and moaning, while the four apartments on
+the third floor were searched in every corner by Blossom and his gang.
+The search was vain.
+
+"He can't be got far," cried Blossom. "Some o' you go down into the
+yard, and I'll s'arch this staircase."
+
+Thus speaking, he took the light and disappeared through the open
+doorway of the staircase, while the other police-officers hastily
+descended the main stairway.
+
+Tarleton remained at least five minutes in the darkness, while shouts
+were heard in the yard behind the mansion. Then, emerging from the
+room, he descended to the second floor, where he was confronted by the
+housekeeper, who was struck with pity at the sight of his haggard face.
+
+"I am weak--I am faint; allow me to lean upon your arm," said Tarleton,
+and supported his weight upon the fat arm of the good lady.--"Support
+me to the bedchamber of my dear friend Somers,--the father of poor
+murdered Evelyn."
+
+"This way, sir," said the housekeeper, kindly, "he's in there, with his
+private secretary--"
+
+"With his _private secretary_, did you say?" faintly exclaimed
+Tarleton. "Close the door after me, good madam, I wish to talk with the
+dear old man."
+
+He entered the bedchamber, leaving the housekeeper at the door.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+"SHOW ME THE WAY."
+
+
+A single lamp stood on a table, near a bed which was surmounted by
+a canopy of silken curtains. The room was spacious and elegant;
+chairs, carpet, the marble mantle, elaborately carved, and the ceiling
+adorned with an elaborate painting,--all served to show that the
+merchant prince slept in a "place of state." Every detail of that
+richly-furnished apartment, said "Gold!" as plainly as though a voice
+was speaking it all the while.
+
+His lean form, attired in every-day apparel, was stretched upon the
+bed, and through the aperture in the curtains, the lamp-light fell
+upon one side of his face. He appeared to be sleeping. His arms lay
+listlessly by his side, and his head was thrown back upon the pillow.
+His breathing was audible in the most distant corner of the chamber.
+
+"Gulian," said Tarleton, who seemed to recover his usual strength and
+spirit, as soon as he entered the room, "Where are you, my dear?"
+
+The slight form of the private secretary advanced from among the
+curtains at the foot of the bed. His face, almost feminine in its
+expression, appeared in the light, with tears glistening on the cheeks.
+It was a beautiful face, illumined by large, clear eyes, and framed in
+the wavy hair, which flowed in rich masses to his shoulders. At sight
+of the elegant Colonel, the blue eyes of the boy shone with a look of
+terror. He started back, folding his hands over the frock coat, which
+enveloped his boyish shape.
+
+"Ah, my God,--you here!" was his exclamation, "when will you cease to
+persecute me?"
+
+The Colonel smiled, patted his elegant whiskers, and drawing nearer to
+the boy, who seemed to _cringe_ away from his touch, he said in his
+blandest tone,--
+
+"Persecute you! Well, that is clever!--Talk of gratitude again in this
+world! I took you when you were a miserable foundling, a wretched
+little baby, without father, mother, or name. I placed you in the quiet
+of a country town, where you received an elegant education. I gave you
+a name,--a fancy name, I admit--the name which you now wear--and when I
+visited you, once or twice a year, you called me by the name of father.
+How I gained money to support you these nineteen or twenty years, and
+to adorn that fine intellect of yours, with a finished education,--why,
+you don't know, and I scarcely can tell, myself. But after these years
+of protection and support, I appeared at your home in the country, and
+asked a simple favor at your hands. Ay, child, the man you delighted
+to call father asked in return for all that he had done for you, a
+favor--only one favor--and that of the simplest character. Where was
+your gratitude? You refused me; you fled from your home in the country,
+and I lost sight of you until to-night, when I find my lost lamb, in
+the employment of the rich merchant. His private secretary, forsooth!"
+
+"Hush," exclaimed Gulian, with a deprecatory gesture, "You will wake
+Mr. Somers. He has had one convulsion already, and it may prove fatal.
+I have sent for a doctor,--oh, why does he not come?"
+
+"You shall not avoid me in that way, my young friend," said Tarleton.
+He laid his hand on the arm of the boy, and bent his face so near to
+him that the latter felt the Colonel's breath upon his forehead. "The
+money which I bestowed upon your education, I obtained by what the
+world calls _felony_. For you--for you--" his voice sunk to a deeper
+tone, and his eyes flashed with anger; "for you I spent some years
+in that delightful retreat, which is known to vulgar ears by the
+word,--PENITENTIARY!"
+
+"God help me," cried the boy, affrighted by the expression which
+stamped the Colonel's face.
+
+"_Penitentiary_ or _jail_, call it what you will, I spent some years
+there for your sake. And do you wish to evade me now when, I tell you
+that I reared you but for one object, and that object dearer to me
+than life? You ran away from my guardianship; you attempt to conceal
+yourself from me; you attempt to foil the hope for which I have
+suffered the tortures of the damned these twenty years? Come, my boy,
+you'll think better of it."
+
+The smile of the Colonel was altogether fiendish. The boy sank on his
+knees, and raised to the Colonel's gaze that beautiful face stamped
+with terror, and bathed in tears.
+
+"Oh, pardon me--forgive me!" he cried, "Do not kill me--"
+
+"Kill you! Pshaw!"
+
+"Let me live an obscure life, away from your observation; let me be
+humble, poor and unknown; as you value the hope of salvation, do not--I
+beseech you on my knees--do not ask me to comply with your request!"
+
+"If you don't get up, I may be tempted to strike you," was the
+brutal remark of the Colonel. "Pitiful wretch! Hark ye," he bent
+his head,--"the robber who this night murdered Evelyn Somers,
+gained admittance to this house by means of a night-key. He had
+an _accomplice_ in the house, who supplied him with the key. That
+accomplice, (let us suppose a case) was yourself--"
+
+"Me!" cried the boy, in utter horror.
+
+"I can _obtain_ evidence of the fact," continued the Colonel, and
+paused. "You had better think twice before you enter the lists with me
+and attempt to thwart my will."
+
+The boy, thus kneeling, did not reply, but buried his face in his
+hands, and his flowing hair hid those hands with its luxurious waves.
+He shook in every nerve with agony. He sobbed aloud.
+
+"Will you be quiet?" the Colonel seized him roughly by the shoulder,
+"or shall I throttle you?"
+
+"Yes, kill me, _fiend_, kill me, oh! kill me with one blow:" the boy
+raised his face, and pronounced these words, his eyes flashing with
+hatred, as he uttered the word "_fiend_." There was something startling
+in the look of mortal hatred which had so suddenly fixed itself upon
+that beautiful face. Even the Colonel was startled.
+
+"Nay, nay, my child," he said in a soothing tone, "get up, get up,
+that's a dear child--I meant no harm--"
+
+At this moment the conversation was interrupted by a hollow voice.
+
+"You must pay, sir. That's my way.--You must pay or you must go."
+
+The business-like nature, the every-day character of these words, was
+in painful contrast with the hollow accent which accompanied their
+utterance. At the sound the boy sprang to his feet, and the Colonel
+started as though a pistol had exploded at his ear.
+
+The merchant prince had risen into a sitting posture. His thin
+features, low, broad forehead, wide mouth, with thin lips and pointed
+chin, were thrown strongly into view by the white cravat which
+encircled his throat. Those features were bathed in moisture. The small
+eyes, at other times half concealed by heavy lids, were now expanded
+in a singular stare,--a stare which made the blood of the Colonel grow
+cold in his veins.
+
+"God bless us! What's the matter with you, good Mr. Somers?" he
+ejaculated.
+
+But the rich man did not heed him.
+
+"I wouldn't give a snap for your Reading Railroad--bad stock--bad
+stock--it must burst. It _will_ burst, I say. Pay, pay, pay, or go!
+That's the only way to do business. D'ye suppose I'm an ass? The note
+_can't_ lie over. If you don't meet it, it shall be protested."
+
+As he uttered these incoherent words, his expanding eyes still fixed,
+he inserted his tremulous hand in his waist-coat pocket, and took from
+thence a GOLDEN EAGLE, which he brought near his eyes, gazing at it
+long and eagerly.
+
+"He's delirious," ejaculated Tarleton, "why don't you go for a doctor?"
+
+"Oh, what shall I do?" cried Gulian, rushing to the door, "why doesn't
+the doctor come?--"
+
+But at the door he was confronted by the buxom housekeeper, who
+whispered, "Our doctor is out of town, but one of the servants has
+found another one: he's writing down-stairs."
+
+"Quick! Quick! Bring him at once;" and Gulian, in his flight, pushed
+the housekeeper out of the room.
+
+Mr. Somers still remained in a sitting posture, his eye fixed upon the
+golden eagle.
+
+"Tell Jenks to foreclose," he muttered, "I've nothing to do with the
+man's wife and children. It isn't in the way of business. The mortgage
+isn't paid, and we must sell--sell--sell,--sell," he repeated until his
+voice died away in a murmur.
+
+The doctor entered the room. "Where is our patient?" he said, as he
+advanced to the bedside. He was a man somewhat advanced in years, with
+bent figure and stooping shoulders. He was clad in an old-fashioned
+surtout, with nine or ten heavy capes hanging about his shoulders; and,
+as if to protect him from the cold, a bright-red kerchief was tied
+about his neck and the lower part of his face. He wore a black fur hat,
+with an ample brim, which effectually shaded his features.
+
+The Colonel started at the sight of this singular figure. "Our friend
+of the blue capes, as I'm alive!" he muttered half aloud.
+
+The doctor advanced to the bedside.--"You will excuse me for retaining
+my hat and this kerchief about my neck," he said in his mild voice, "I
+am suffering from a severe cold." He then directed his attention to the
+sick man, while Gulian and Tarleton watched his movements, with evident
+interest.
+
+The doctor did not touch the merchant; he stood by the bedside, gazing
+upon him silently.
+
+"What's the matter with our friend?" whispered Tarleton.
+
+The doctor did not answer. He remained motionless by the bedside,
+surveying the quivering features and fixed eyes of the afflicted man.
+
+"This person," exclaimed the doctor, after a long pause, "is not
+suffering from a physical complaint. His mind is afflicted. From the
+talk of the servants in the hall, I learned that he has this night lost
+his only son, by the hands of a murderer. The shock has been too great
+for him. My young friend," he addressed Gulian, who stood at his back,
+"it were as well to send for a clergyman."
+
+Gulian hurried to the door, and whispered to the housekeeper. Returning
+to the bedside, he found the doctor seated in a chair, with a watch in
+his hand, in full view of the delirious man. The Colonel, grasping the
+bed-curtain, stood behind him, in an attitude of profound thought, yet
+with a faint smile upon his lips.
+
+As for the merchant prince, seated bolt upright in the bed, he clutched
+the golden eagle, (which seemed to have _magnetized_ his gaze), and
+babbled in his delirium--
+
+"_You_ an heir of Trinity Church?" he said, with a mocking smile upon
+his thin lips, "_you_ one of the descendants of Anreke Jans Bogardus?
+Pooh! Pooh! The Church is firm,--_firm_. She defies you. Aaron Burr
+tried that game, he! he! and found it best to quit,--to quit--to quit.
+What Trinity Church has got, she will hold,--hold--hold. She buys,--she
+sells--she sells--she buys--a great business man is Trinity Church! And
+with your two hundred beggarly heirs of Anreke Jans Bogardus, you will
+go to law about her title. Pooh!"
+
+"He is going fast," whispered the Doctor, "his mind is killing him.
+Where are his relatives?"
+
+His relatives! Sad, sad word! His wife had been dead many years, and
+her relatives were at a distance; perchance in a foreign land. His
+_nearest_ relative was a corpse, up-stairs, with a pistol wound through
+his heart.
+
+Evelyn Somers, Sen., was one of the richest men in New York, and
+yet there was not a single relative to stand by his dying-bed. The
+death-sweat on his fevered brow, the whiteness of death on his
+quivering lips, the fire of the grave in his expanding eyes, Evelyn
+Somers, the merchant prince, had neither wife nor child nor relative to
+stand by him in his last hour. The poor boy who wept by the bed-side
+was, perchance, his only friend.
+
+"Cornelius Berman, the artist, (who died, I believe, some years ago,)
+was his only relative in New York: his only son out of view." This was
+the answer of Colonel Tarleton, to the question of the Doctor.
+
+And the dying man, still sitting bolt upright, one hand on his knee,
+and the other grasping the golden coin, still babbled in his delirium
+in the hollow tone of death. He talked of everything. He bought and
+sold, received rent and distressed tenants, paid notes and protested
+them, made imaginary sums by the sale of stocks, and achieved imaginary
+triumphs by the purchase of profitable tracts of land,--it was a
+frightful scene.
+
+The Doctor shuddered, and as he looked at his watch, muttered a word of
+prayer.
+
+The Colonel turned his face away, but was forced by an involuntary
+impulse, to turn again and gaze upon that livid countenance.
+
+The boy Gulian--in the shadows of the room--sunk on his knees and
+uttered a prayer, broken by sobs.
+
+At length the dying man seemed to recover a portion of his
+consciousness. Turning his gaze from the golden coin which he still
+clutched in his fingers, he said in a voice which, in some measure,
+resembled his every-day tone,--
+
+"Send for a minister, a minister, quick! I am very weak."
+
+The words had scarcely passed his lips, when a soft voice exclaimed,
+"I am here, my dear friend Somers, I trust that this is not serious. A
+sad, sad affliction, you have encountered to-night. But you must cheer
+up, you must, indeed."
+
+The minister had entered the room unperceived, and now stood by the
+bed-side.
+
+"Herman Barnhurst!" ejaculated Colonel Tarleton.
+
+The tall, slender figure of the clergyman, dressed in deep black,
+was disclosed to the gaze of the dying man, who gazed intently at
+his _blonde_ face, effeminate in its excessive fairness, and then
+exclaimed, reaching his hand,--
+
+"Come, I am going. I want you to show me the way!"
+
+"Really, my dear friend," began Barnhurst, passing his hand over his
+hair, which, straight and brown and of silken softness, fell smoothly
+behind his ears, "you must bear up. This is not so serious as you
+imagine."
+
+"I tell you I am going. I have often heard you preach,--once or twice
+in Trinity--I rather liked you--and now I want you to show me the way!
+Do you see there?" he extended his trembling hand, "there's the way I'm
+going. It's all dark. You're a minister of my church too; I want you to
+_show me the way_?"
+
+There was a terrible emphasis in the accent,--a terrible entreaty in
+the look of the dying man.
+
+The Rev. Herman Barnhurst sank back in a chair, much affected.
+
+"Has he made his will?" he whispered to the Doctor, "so much property
+and no heirs: he could do so much good with it. Had not you better send
+for a lawyer?"
+
+The Doctor regarded, for a moment, the fair complexion, curved nose,
+warm, full lips, and rounded chin of the young minister; and then
+answered, in a low voice,
+
+"You are a minister. It is your duty not altogether to preach eloquent
+sermons, and show a pair of delicate hands from the summit of a marble
+pulpit. It is your duty to administer comfort by the dying-bed, where
+humbug is stripped of its mark, and death is 'the only reality'. Do
+your duty, sir. Save this man's soul."
+
+"Yes, save my soul," cried Somers, who heard the last words of the
+Doctor, "I don't want the offices of the church; I don't want prayers.
+I want comfort, comfort; _now_." He paused, and then reaching forth
+his hand, said in a low voice, half broken by a burst of horrible
+laughter, "There's the way I've got to travel. Now tell me, minister,
+do you really believe that there is anything there? When we die, we
+die, don't we? Sleep and rot, rot and sleep, don't we?"
+
+Herman, who was an Atheist at heart, though he had never confessed
+the truth even to himself--Herman, who was a minister for the sake
+of a large salary, fine carriage, and splendid house--Herman, who
+was, in fact, an intellectual voluptuary, devoting life and soul to
+the gratification of one appetite, which had, with him, become a
+monomania--Herman, now, for the first moment in his life, was conscious
+of a something _beyond_ the grave; conscious that this religion of
+Christ, the Master, which he used as a trade, was something more than a
+trade; was a fact, a reality, at once a hope and a judgment.
+
+And the Rev. Herman Barnhurst felt one throe of remorse, and shuddered.
+Vailing his fair face in his delicate hands, he gave himself up to one
+moment of terrible reflection.
+
+"He is failing fast," whispered the Doctor; "you had better say a word
+of hope to him."
+
+"Yes, the camel is going through the eye of the needle," cried
+Somers, with a burst of shrill laughter. "Minister, did you ever see
+a camel go through the eye of a needle? Oh! you fellows preach such
+soft and velvety sermons to us,--but you never say a word about the
+camel--never a word about the camel. You see us buy and sell,--you see
+us hard landlords, careful business men,--you see us making money day
+after day, and year after year, at the cost of human life and human
+blood,--and you never say a word about the camel. Never! never! Why we
+_keep_ such fellows as you, for our use: for every thousand that we
+make in _trade_, we give you a good discount, in the way of salary, and
+so as we go along, we keep a _debit_ and _credit_ account with what you
+call Providence. Now rub out my sins, will you? I've paid you for it, I
+believe!"
+
+"Poor friend! He is delirious!" ejaculated Herman Barnhurst.
+
+The boy Gulian, (unperceived by the doctor,) brought a golden-clasped
+Bible, and laid it on the minister's knees. Then looking with a shudder
+at the livid face of the merchant prince, he shrank back into the
+shadows, first whispering to the minister--"Read to him from this
+book."
+
+Somers, with his glassy eye, caught a glimpse of the book, as in its
+splendid binding, it rested on the minister's knees--
+
+"Pooh! pooh! you needn't read. Because if _that_ book is true, why then
+I've made a bad _investment_ of my life. I never deceived myself. I
+always looked upon this thing you call religion as a branch of trade--a
+cloak--a trap. But now I want you to tell me one thing, (and I've paid
+enough money to have a decent answer): Do you really believe that there
+is _anything_ after this life? Speak, minister! Don't we go to sleep
+and rot,--and isn't that all?"
+
+Herman did not answer.
+
+But the voice of the boy Gulian, who was kneeling in the shadows of the
+death-chamber, broke through the stillness--
+
+"There is something beyond the grave. There is a God! There is a heaven
+and a hell. There is a hope for the repentant, and there is a judgment
+for the impenitent." There was something almost supernatural in the
+tones of the boy's voice, breaking so slowly and distinctly upon the
+profound stillness.
+
+The spectators started at the sound; and as for the dying man, he
+picked at his clothing and at the coverlet with his long fingers, now
+chilling fast with the cold of death--and muttered incoherent sounds,
+without sense or meaning of any kind.
+
+"His face has a horrible look!" ejaculated the Colonel; who was half
+hidden among the curtains of the bed.
+
+"He is going fast," said the Doctor, looking at his watch. "In five
+minutes all will be over,--"
+
+"And you said, I believe, that he had not made his will?"
+
+It was Herman who spoke. The sensation of remorse had been succeeded
+by his accustomed tone of feeling. His face was impressed with the
+profound selfishness which impelled his words. "He had better make his
+will. Without heirs, he can leave his fortune to the church,--"
+
+"For shame! for shame!" cried the Doctor.
+
+"A little too greedy, my good friend," the Colonel, at his back,
+remarked. "Allow me to remark, that your conduct manifests too much of
+the Levite, and too little of the gentleman."
+
+Herman bit his lip, and was silent
+
+After this, there was no word spoken for a long time.
+
+The spectators watched in silence the struggles of the dying man.
+
+How he died!--I shudder but to write it; and would not write it, were
+I not convinced that _atheism in the church_ is the grand cause of one
+half of the crimes and evils that afflict the world.
+
+The death-bed of the ATHEIST church-member, with the ATHEIST minister
+sitting by the bed, was a horrible scene.
+
+I see that picture, now:--
+
+A vast room, furnished with all the incidents of wealth, lofty ceiling,
+walls adorned with pictures, and carpet that was woven in human blood.
+A single lamp on the table near the bed, breaks the gloom. The curtains
+of that bed are of satin, the pillow is of down, the coverlet is
+spotless as the snow; and there a long slender frame, and a face with
+the seal of sixty years of life upon it, attract the gaze of silent
+spectators.
+
+The doctor--his face shaded by the wide rim of his hat, sits by the
+bed, watch in hand.
+
+Behind him appears the handsome face of Colonel Tarleton--the man of
+the world, whose form is shrouded in the curtains.
+
+A little apart, kneels the boy, Gulian, whose beautiful face is stamped
+with awe and bathed in tears.
+
+And near the head of the bed, seated on a chair, which touches the
+pillow upon which rests the head of the dying--behold the tall form and
+aquiline face of the minister, who listens to the moans of death, and
+subdues his conscience into an expression of calm serenity.
+
+The dying man is seized with a spasm, which throws his limbs into
+horrible contortions. He writhes, and struggles, with hands and feet,
+as though wrestling with a murderer: he utters horrible cries. At
+length, raising himself in a sitting posture, he projects his livid
+face into the light; he reaches forth his arm, and grasps the minister
+by the wrist,--the minister utters an involuntary cry of pain,--for
+that grasp is like the pressure of an iron vice.
+
+"Not a word about the camel,--hey, minister?"
+
+That was the last word of Evelyn Somers, Sen., the merchant prince.
+
+There, projecting from the bed-curtains his livid face,--there, with
+features distorted and eyes rolling, the last glance upon the evidences
+of wealth, which filled the chamber,--there, even as he clasped the
+minister by the wrist, he gasped his last breath, and was a dead man.
+
+It was with an effort that Herman Barnhurst disengaged his wrist from
+the gripe of the dead man's hand. As he tore the hand away, a golden
+eagle fell from it, and sparkled in the light, as it fell. The rich man
+couldn't take it with him, to the place where he was going,--not even
+one piece of gold.
+
+The Rev. Herman Barnhurst rose and left the room without once looking
+back.
+
+The doctor, also, rose and straightened the dead man's limbs, and
+closed his eyes. This done, he drew his broad-brimmed hat over his
+brow, and left the room without a word--yes, he spoke four words, as he
+left the place: "One out of seven!" he said.
+
+The Colonel emerged from the curtains; he was ashy pale, and he
+tottered as he walked. This time his agitation was not a sham. Once he
+looked back upon the dead man's face, and then directed his steps to
+the door.
+
+"Remember, Gulian," he whispered as he passed the kneeling boy:
+"to-morrow I will see you."
+
+Gulian, still on his knees in the center of the apartment, prayed God
+to be merciful to the dead,--to the dead son, whose corpse lay in the
+room above, and to the dead father, whose body was stretched before his
+eyes.
+
+Tarleton paused for a moment on the threshold, with his hand upon the
+knob of the door--
+
+"If Cornelius Berman were alive, he would inherit this immense estate!"
+muttered the Colonel. "As it is, here is a palace with two dead bodies
+in it, and no heir to inherit the wealth of the corpse which only half
+an hour ago was the owner of half a million dollars. But it is no time
+to meditate. There's work for me at THE TEMPLE."
+
+Turning from that stately mansion, in which father and son lay dead, we
+will follow the steps of Rev. Herman Barnhurst.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+THE REVEREND VOLUPTUARIES.
+
+
+As the REV. HERMAN BARNHURST passed from the hall-door of the palace of
+the merchant prince, and descended the marble steps, his thoughts were
+by no means of a pleasant character. The image of Alice, for the moment
+forgotten, the thoughts of Herman were occupied with the scene which he
+had just witnessed,--the hopeless death-bed of the merchant prince.
+
+"The fool!" muttered Herman, drawing his cloak around him, and pulling
+his hat over his brows, "The miserable fool! To die without making a
+will, when he has no heirs and the church has done so much for him.
+Why (in his own phrase) it has been _capital_ to him, in the way of
+reputation; he has grown rich by that reputation; and now he dies,
+leaving the church and her ministers,--not a single copper, not a
+single copper."
+
+It was too early for Herman to return to his home,--so he
+thought,--therefore, he directed his steps toward Broadway, resolving,
+in spite of the late hour of the night, to pay a visit to one of his
+most intimate friends.
+
+But, as he left the palace of the merchant prince, a MAN wrapped also
+in a cloak, and with a cap over his eyes, rose from the shadows behind
+the marble steps, and walked with an almost noiseless pace in the
+footsteps of the young clergyman.
+
+This man had seen Herman enter the house of the merchant prince.
+Standing himself in the darkness behind the steps, he had waited
+patiently until Herman again appeared. In fact, he had followed the
+steps of the clergyman for at least three hours previous to the moment
+when he came to the residence of Evelyn Somers, Sr.; followed him from
+street to street, from house to house, walking fast or slow, as Herman
+quickened or moderated his pace; stopping when Herman stopped; and
+thus, for three long hours, he had dogged the steps of the clergyman
+with a patience and perseverance, that must certainly have been the
+result of some powerful motive.
+
+And now, as the Rev. Herman Barnhurst left the house where the merchant
+prince lay dead, the MAN in cap and cloak, quietly resumed his march,
+like a veteran at the tap of the drum.
+
+At the moment when Herman reached a dark point of the street near
+Broadway, the MAN stole noiselessly to his side and tapped him on the
+shoulder.
+
+Herman turned with an ejaculation,--half fear, half wonder. The street
+was dark and deserted; the lights of Broadway shone two hundred yards
+ahead. Herman, at a glance, saw that himself and the MAN were the only
+persons visible.
+
+"It's a thief," he thought,--and then, said aloud, in his sweetest
+voice: "What do you want, my friend?"
+
+"_The twenty-fifth of December is near,_" said the MAN, in a slow and
+significant voice: "I have important information to communicate to you,
+in relation to the _Van Huyden estate_."
+
+Herman was, of course, interested in the great estate, as one of
+the SEVEN; but he had a deeper interest in it, than the reader,--at
+present, can imagine. The words of the MAN, therefore, agitated him
+deeply.
+
+"Who are you?" he asked.
+
+"That I will tell you, when you have taken me to a place, where we can
+converse freely together."
+
+Herman hesitated.
+
+"Well, as you will," said the MAN--"It concerns you as much as it does
+me. You are afraid to grant me an interview. Good night--"
+
+Thus speaking, he carelessly turned away.
+
+Now Herman was afraid of the MAN, but there were other Men of whom he
+was more afraid. So balancing one fear against another, he came to this
+conclusion, that the MAN might communicate something, which would save
+him from the _other Men_, and so he called the stranger back.
+
+"Why this concealment?" he asked.
+
+"You will confess, after we have talked together, that I have good
+reasons for this concealment," was the answer of the MAN.
+
+"Come, then, with me," said Herman, "I will not take you to my own
+rooms, but I will take you to the rooms of a friend. He is out of town
+and we can converse at our ease."
+
+He led the way toward the room of the Rev. Dr. Bulgin, whom the profane
+sometimes called Bulgin_e_, which, as the learned know, is good
+Ethiopian for Steam Engine. This seemed to imply that the Rev. Dr. was
+a perfect Locomotive in his way.
+
+"My friend Bulgin," said Herman, as they arrived in front of a massive
+four story building, on a cross street, not more than a quarter of a
+mile from the head of Broadway, "occupies the entire upper floor of
+this house, as a study. There he secludes himself while engaged in
+the composition of his more elaborate works. He has a body servant
+and a maid servant to wait upon him; and a parlor down stairs, for
+the reception of his visitors; but he has no communication with the
+other part of the house. In fact, he never sees the occupants of the
+boarding-house beneath his study. He rents his rooms of the lady who
+keeps the boarding-house,--Mrs. Smelgin,--who supplies his meals. Thus,
+he has the upper part of the house all to himself; and as I have a key
+to his rooms, we can go up there and talk at our ease."
+
+"But, is not Dr. Bulgin married?" asked the MAN.
+
+"He is. But his lady, on account of her health (she cannot bear the
+noise of the city), is forced to reside in the country with her father."
+
+"Ah!" said the man.
+
+Herman opened the front door with a night key, and led the way along
+a hall and up three ranges of stairs, until he came to a door. This
+door he opened with another key, and followed by the MAN, he entered
+Dr. Bulgin's study. He then locked the door, and they found themselves
+enveloped in Egyptian darkness.
+
+"This may be Dr. Bulgin's study, but it strikes me, a little light
+would not do it much harm."
+
+"Wait a moment," said Barnhurst,--"I'll light the lamp." And presently,
+by the aid of matches, he lighted a lamp which stood on a table of
+variegated marble. A globular shade of an exquisite pattern tempered
+the rays of the lamp, and filled the place with a light that was
+eminently soft and luxurious.
+
+"Be seated," said Barnhurst, but the _stranger_ remained standing, with
+his cloak wound about him and his cap drawn over his brows. He was
+evidently examining the details of the study with an attentive,--may
+be--an astonished gaze.
+
+Dr. Bulgin's study was worthy of examination.
+
+It was composed of the upper floor of Mrs. Smelgin's boarding-house,
+and was, therefore, a vast room, its depth and breadth corresponding to
+the depth and breadth of the house.
+
+It was, at least, thirty yards in length and twenty in breadth, and the
+ceiling was of corresponding height. Four huge windows faced the east,
+and four the west.
+
+Thus, vast and roomy, the apartment was furnished in a style which
+might well excite the attentive gaze of the stranger.
+
+In the center of the southern wall, stood the bookcase, an elegant
+fabric of rosewood, surmounted by richly-carved work, and crowned with
+an alabaster bust of Leo the Tenth; the voluptuous Pope who drank his
+wine, while poor Martin Luther was overturning the world.
+
+The shelves of this bookcase were stored with the choicest books
+of five languages; some glittering in splendid binding, and others
+looking ancient and venerable in their faded covers. There were the
+most recondite works in English, French, German, Spanish; and there
+were also the most popular works in as many languages. Theology,
+metaphysics, mathematics, geometry, poetry, the drama, history, fact,
+fiction,--all were there, and of all manner of shapes, styles and ages.
+It was a very Noah's Ark of literature, into which seemed to have been
+admitted _one_ specimen, at least, of every book in the universe.
+
+On the right of the bookcase was a sofa that made you sleepy just to
+look at it; it was so roomy, and its red-velvet cushioning looked
+so soft and tempting. This sofa was framed in rosewood, with little
+rosewood cupids wreathed around its legs.
+
+And on the left of the bookcase was another sofa of a richer style, and
+of a more sleep-impelling exterior.
+
+Above each sofa hung a picture, concealed by a thick curtain.
+
+Along the northern wall of the study were disposed a sofa as
+magnificent as the others, and a series of marble pedestals and
+red-velvet arm-chairs. Every pedestal was crowned by an alabaster vase
+or statue of white marble. There were Eve, Apollo, Canova's Venus, and
+the Three Graces,--all exquisite originals or exquisite copies, in
+snowy marble.
+
+The arm-chairs were arm-chairs indeed. Red-velvet cushions and high
+backs and great broad arms; they were the idea of a happy brain,
+impregnated with belief in Sancho's "Blessed be the man that invented
+sleep."
+
+And this northern wall was hung with pictures in massive frames, richly
+gilt; the frames were exposed, but the pictures were vailed.
+
+In the intervals between the western windows were pedestals crowned
+with vases, and mosaic tables loaded with objects of _virtu_: exquisite
+trifles of all sorts, gleaned from the Old World.
+
+And in the intervals between the eastern windows were recesses, covered
+with hangings of pale crimson. What is concealed in those recesses,
+doth not yet appear. Both eastern and western windows were curtained
+with folds of intermingled white and damask, floating luxuriantly from
+the ceiling to the floor.
+
+The floor was covered with an Axminster carpet of the richest dyes.
+
+Gilt mouldings ran around the ceiling, and in the center thereof, was a
+cupid, encircled by a huge wreath of roses, and reposing on a day-break
+cloud.
+
+The table, of variegated marble, which stood in the center of the
+study, was surrounded by three arm-chairs of the same style as those
+which lined the wall. It was circular in form, and upon it, appeared an
+elegant alabaster inkstand, gold pens with pearl handles, gilt-edged
+paper touched with perfume, a few choice books, and an exquisite "Venus
+in the Shell," done in alabaster. One of these books was a modern
+edition of the Golden Ass of Apuleius; and the other was a choice
+translation of Rabelais.
+
+Altogether, the Rev. Dr. Bulgin's room was one of those rooms worthy of
+a place in history; and which, may be, could tell strange histories,
+were its chairs and tables gifted with the power of speech.
+
+"And this is the study of the Rev. Dr. Bulgin!" ejaculated the MAN.
+
+"It is," replied Herman, flinging himself into an arm-chair; "here he
+composes his most elaborate theological works."
+
+"Why is his library crowned with that bust of Leo the Tenth, the
+Atheist and Sensualist?"
+
+"He is writing a work on the age of Luther," replied Herman.
+
+"Oh!" responded the MAN.
+
+"And this!" the MAN drew the vail and bore one of the pictures to the
+light: "and this! what does it mean?"
+
+"You are inquisitive, sir," replied Herman, somewhat confounded by the
+sudden disclosure of this singular picture, "why, in fact, Dr. Bulgin
+is writing a tract _against_ immoral pictures."
+
+"A-h!" responded the MAN, and picked from the table the Golden Ass of
+Apuleius, illustrated with plates, "what does this do here? Are these
+plates to be understood in a theological sense?"
+
+"Dr. Bulgin is getting up a treatise upon the subject of immoral
+literature. He has that book as an example."
+
+"And when he writes a treatise on the infernal regions, he'd send there
+for a piece of the brimstone as an example?"
+
+"You are profane," said Herman, tartly; "let me hope that you will
+proceed to business."
+
+The MAN placed his cloak on a chair, and his cap on the table. Then
+seating himself opposite the minister, he gazed steadily in his face.
+Herman grew red in the face, and felt as though he had suddenly been
+plunged into an oven.
+
+"Your name is,--is,"--he hesitated.
+
+"Don't _you_ know me?" said the MAN.
+
+"I,--I,--why,--I,--let me see."
+
+Herman shaded his eyes with his hand, and steadily perused the face of
+the STRANGER, as though, in the effort, to recognize him.
+
+He was a young man of a muscular frame, clad in a single-breasted blue
+coat, which was buttoned over a broad chest. He was of the medium
+height. His forehead was broad; his eyes clear gray; his lips wide and
+firm; his nose inclining to the aquiline; his chin round and solid.
+The general expression of his features was that of straightforwardness
+and energy of character. There was the freshness and the warmth of
+youth upon his face, and his forehead was stamped with the ideality of
+genius. As he wore his brown hair in short, thick curls, it marked the
+outline of his head, and threw his forehead distinctly into view.
+
+"You are,--you are,--where did I see you?" hesitated Herman.
+
+"I am Arthur Dermoyne," was the reply, in an even, but emphatic voice.
+
+Then there was an embarrassing pause.
+
+"Where have I met you?" said Herman, as if in the painful effort to
+recollect.
+
+"At the house of Mr. Burney, in the city of Philadelphia," was the
+answer.
+
+"Ah! now I remember!" ejaculated Herman; "Poor, poor Mr. Burney! You
+have heard of the sad accident which took place last night, ah--ah--?"
+
+Herman buried his face in his hands, and seemed profoundly affected.
+
+"I saw his mangled body at the house half way between New York and
+Philadelphia, only a few hours ago," the young man's voice was cold and
+stern, "and now I am in New York, endeavoring to find the scoundrel who
+abducted his only daughter."
+
+Herman looked at cupid in the ceiling and pretended to brush a hair
+from his nose--
+
+"Ah, I remember, poor Mr. Burney told me last night, that his child had
+been abducted. Yes,--" Herman looked at the hair, and held it between
+his eyes and the light, "he told me about it just before the accident
+occurred. Poor girl! Poor girl! Oh, by-the-bye," turning suddenly in
+his arm-chair, but without looking into the face of Dermoyne, "you take
+an interest in the Burney family. Are you a relative?"
+
+"I have visited the house of Mr. Burney, from time to time, and have
+seen Alice, his only daughter. You may think me romantic, but to see
+that girl, so pure, so innocent, so beautiful, was to love her. I
+will confess that had it not been for a disparity of fortune, and a
+difference in regard to religious views, between her father and myself,
+I would have been most happy to have made her my wife."
+
+The tone of the young man was somewhat agitated; he was endeavoring to
+suppress his emotions.
+
+"Courage! He does not _know_," muttered Herman to himself, and then
+assuming a calm look, he continued, aloud: "And she would have made you
+a noble wife. By-the-bye, you spoke of your profession. A merchant, I
+suppose?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"A lawyer?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"A medical gentleman?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"You are then--"
+
+"A shoemaker."
+
+"A WHAT," ejaculated Herman, jumping from his chair.
+
+"A shoemaker," repeated Arthur Dermoyne. "I gain my bread by the work
+of my hands, and by the hardest of all kinds of work. I am not only a
+mechanic, but a shoemaker."
+
+Herman could not repress a burst of laughter.
+
+"Excuse me, but, ha, ha, ha! You are a shoemaker? And you visited the
+house of the wealthy Burney, and aspired to his daughter's hand? You
+will excuse me, ha, ha, ha!--but it is so very odd."
+
+Dermoyne's forehead grew dark.
+
+"Yes, I am a shoemaker. I earn my bread by the work of my hands. But
+before you despise me, you will hear why I am a shoemaker. As an
+orphaned child, without father or mother, there was no other career
+before me, than the pauperism of the outcast or the slavery of an
+apprentice. I chose the latter. The overseers of the poor bound me out
+to a trade. I grew up without hope, education, or home. In the day-time
+I worked at an occupation which is work without exercise, and which
+continued ten years, at ten hours a day, will destroy the constitution
+of the strongest man. From this hopeless apprenticeship, I passed into
+the life of a journeyman, and knew what it was to battle with the world
+for myself. How I worked, starved and worked, matters not, for we folks
+are born for that kind of thing. But as I sat upon my work-bench,
+listening to a book which was read by one of my own brother workmen, I
+became aware that I was not only poor, but ignorant; that my body was
+not only enslaved, but also my soul.--Therefore, I taught myself to
+read; to write; and for three years I have devoted five hours of every
+night to study."
+
+"And are still a shoemaker?" Herman's smooth face was full of quiet
+scorn and laughter.
+
+"I am still a shoemaker--a workman at the bench--because I cannot,
+in _conscience_, enter one of the professions called learned.--I
+cannot separate myself from that nine-tenths of the human family, who
+seem to have been only born to work and die--die in mind, as well as
+body--in order to supply the _idle_ tenth with superfluities. Oh!
+sir, you, who are so learned and eloquent, could you but read the
+thoughts which enter the heart of the poor shoemaker, who, sitting at
+his work-bench, in a cramped position, is forced sometimes to reflect
+upon his fate!--He beholds the lawyer, with a conscience distinct from
+that given to him by God; a conscience that makes him believe that
+it is right to grow rich by the tricks and frauds of law. He beholds
+the doctor, also with the conscience of his class, sending human
+beings to death by system, and filling graveyards by the exact rule
+of the schools. He beholds the minister, too often also with but the
+_conscience_ of a class, preaching the thoughts of those who do not
+work, and failing to give utterance to the agonies of those who do
+work--who do all the labor, and suffer all the misery in the world.
+And these classes are respected; honored. They are the true noblemen!
+Their respectability is shared by the merchant, who grows rich by
+distributing the products of labor. But as for the shoemaker--nay,
+the workman, of whatever trade--whose labor produces all the physical
+_wealth of the world_--who works all life long, and only rests when
+his head is in the cold grave,--what of him? He is a serf, a slave, a
+Pariah. On the stage no joke is so piquant as the one which is leveled
+at the 'tailor,' or the 'cobbler;' in literature, the attempt of an
+unknown to elevate himself, is matter for a brutal laugh; and even
+grave men like you, when addressed by a man who, like myself, confesses
+that he is a--shoemaker! you burst into laughter, as though the master
+you profess to serve, was not himself, one day, a workman at the
+carpenter's bench."
+
+"These words are of the French school." Herman gave the word "French" a
+withering accent.
+
+"Did the French school produce the New Testament?"
+
+Herman did not answer, but fixed his glance upon cupid in the ceiling.
+
+"But you are educated--why not devote yourself to one of the
+professions?" and Herman turned his eyes from cupid in the ceiling, to
+Venus in the Shell.
+
+Dermoyne's face gleamed with a calm seriousness, a deep enthusiasm,
+which imparted a new life to every lineament.
+
+"Because I do not wish to separate myself from the largest portion of
+humanity. No, no,--had I the intellect of a Shakspeare, or the religion
+of a St. Paul, I would not wish to separate myself from the greater
+portion of God's family--those who are born, who work, who die. No, no!
+I am waiting--I am waiting!"
+
+"Waiting?" echoed Herman.
+
+"Maybe the day will come, when, gifted with wealth, I can enter the
+workshops of Philadelphia, and say to the workmen, 'Come, brothers.
+Here is CAPITAL. Let us go to the west. Let us find a spot of God's
+earth unpolluted by white or black slavery. Let us build a community
+where every man shall work with his hands, and where every man will
+also have the opportunity to cultivate his mind--to work with his
+brain.--There every one will have a place to work, and every one will
+receive the fruits of his work. And there,--oh, my God!--there will we,
+without priest, or monopolist, or slaveholder, establish in the midst
+of a band of brothers, the worship of that Christ who was himself a
+workman, even as he is now, the workman's God.'"
+
+Arthur Dermoyne had started from his chair; his hands were clasped; his
+gray eyes were filled with tears.
+
+"French ideas--French ideas," cried Herman. "You have been reading
+French books, young man!"
+
+Arthur looked at the clergyman, and said quietly:
+
+"These ideas were held by the German race who settled in Pennsylvania,
+in the time of William Penn. Driven, from Germany by the hands of
+Protestant priests, they brought with them to the New World, the
+'_French ideas_' of the New Testament."
+
+"The Germans who settled Pennsylvania--a stupid race," observed Herman,
+in calm derision; "Look at some of their descendants."
+
+"The Germans of the present day--or, to speak more distinctly,--the
+Pennsylvania Germans, descendants of the old stock, who came over about
+the time of Penn, are a _conquered_ race!--"
+
+"A _conquered_ race?" echoed Herman.
+
+"_Conquered_ by the English language," continued Dermoyne. "As a mass,
+they are not well instructed either in English or in German, and
+therefore have no chance to develop, to its fullest extent, the stamina
+of their race. They know but little of the real history of their
+ancestors, who first brought to Pennsylvania the great truth, that God
+is not a God of hatred, pleased with blood, but a God of love, whose
+great law is the PROGRESS of all his children,--that is, the entire
+family of man, both HERE and HEREAFTER. And the Pennsylvanian Germans
+are the scoff and sneer of Yankee swindler and southern braggart; but
+the day will come, when the descendants of that race will rise to
+their destiny, and even as the farms of Pennsylvania now show their
+_physical_ progress, so will the entire American continent bear witness
+to their _intellectual_ power. They are of the race of Luther, of
+Goethe, and of Schiller,--hard to kill,--the men who can work, and the
+men whose work will make a people strong, a nation great and noble."
+
+"You are of this race?" asked Herman, pulling his cloak gently with his
+delicate hand.
+
+"My father, (I am told, for he died when I was a child,) was a wealthy
+farmer, whose wealth was swallowed up by an unjust lawsuit and a
+fraudulent bank. My grandfather was a wheelwright; my great-grandfather
+a cobbler; my great-great-grandfather a carpenter; and his father,
+was a tiller of the field. So you see, I am _nobly_ descended," and a
+smile crossed the lips of Dermoyne. "Not a single idler or vagabond
+in our family,--all workers, like their Savior,--all men who eat the
+bread of honest labor. Ah! I forgot;" he passed his hand over his
+forehead--"there was a count in our family. This, I confess, is a
+blot upon us; but when you remember that he forsook his countship in
+Germany, to become a tiller of the fields in Pennsylvania--about the
+year 1680--you will look over the fault of his title."
+
+Herman burst into a fit of pleasant laughter.
+
+"You have odd ideas of nobility!" he ejaculated.
+
+"Odd as the New Testament," said Dermoyne; "and as old. By-the-bye,
+this count in our family, was related to the Van Huyden family. (You,
+also, are one of the seven?--Yes, your name is among the others.) Ah!
+should the 25th of December give into my hands but a few thousand
+dollars, I will try and show the world how workmen, united for the
+common good, can live and work together."
+
+"A few thousands!" laughed Herman, displaying himself at full length on
+the capacious chair; "why, in case the Seven receive the estate at all,
+they will divide among them some twenty, perhaps, forty millions of
+dollars!"
+
+"Forty millions of dollars!" Dermoyne was thunderstruck. He folded his
+arms, and gazed upon vacancy with fixed eyes. "My God! what might not
+be done with forty millions!"--he paused and stretched forth his hand,
+as though a vision of the future dawned upon him.
+
+"Did Mr. Burney--poor friend!--know that you were a--shoemaker?" Once
+more Herman shaded his eyes with his hand, and regarded the young man
+with a pleasant smile.
+
+"He did not," answered Dermoyne. "I became acquainted with him,--it
+matters not how,--and visited his house, where, more than once, I have
+conversed with his daughter Alice. No, Mr. Burney did me wrong; for
+while I was a shoemaker, he persisted, (in ignorance of my character,)
+in thinking me--_a gentleman_! A _gentleman_--an idle vagabond, whose
+gentility is supported by the labor of honest men.--Faugh!"
+
+"Well, I must confess," Herman said with a wave of the hand and a
+patronizing tone, "that from your manner, gestures, accent, et cetera,
+I have always taken you for an educated gentleman. But your principles
+are decidedly ungenteel,--allow me the remark."
+
+Herman began to feel much more at ease. "He does not dream I have any
+share in the abduction of Alice!" This thought was comfort and repose
+to his mind.
+
+But Arthur Dermoyne changed the tone of this pleasant dream by a single
+question: "Do _you_,--" he fixed his eyes sternly upon the young
+minister: "Do YOU know anything of the retreat of Alice Burney?"
+
+"Do I know anything of the retreat--of--Alice--Burney!" he echoed:
+"What a question to ask a man of my cloth!"
+
+Dermoyne placed his hand within the breast of his coat, and drew forth
+ten gold pieces, which he held in the light, in the palm of his hand.
+
+"Every coin gained by days and nights of work--hard work," he said.
+"It has taken me three years to save that sum. When I thought of Alice
+as a wife, this little hoard, (such was my fancy,) might enable me to
+furnish a good home. Do you understand me, sir? You who receive five
+thousand dollars per year for preaching the gospel of your church, can
+you comprehend how precious is this fortune of one hundred dollars, to
+a poor workman, who earns his bread by sitting in a cramped position,
+fourteen hours a day, making shoes?"
+
+"Well, what have I to do with this money?"
+
+"You comprehend that these ten gold pieces are as much to me, as a
+ten hundred would be to you? These gold pieces will buy books which I
+earnestly desire; they will help me to relieve a brother workman who
+happens to be poorer than myself; they will help me to go to the far
+west, where there is land and home for all. Well, this fortune, I have
+dedicated to one purpose: To support me, here in New York, on bread and
+water, until I can discover the hiding-place of Alice Burney, and meet
+her seducer face to face. How long do you think my gold will furnish me
+with bread, while I devote day and night to this purpose?"
+
+The iron resolution of the young man's face, made the clergyman feel
+afraid.
+
+"You will remark," he exclaimed, stretching himself in his chair,
+and contemplating the whiteness of his nails, "that a witness of our
+conversation might infer, from the tenor of your discourse, that you
+have an idea--an idea--" he hesitated, "that I have something to do
+with the abduction of this young lady. Doubtless you do not mean to
+convey this impression, and therefore I will thank you to correct the
+tone of your remarks."
+
+Herman was quite lordly.
+
+"Then you know nothing of the retreat of Alice Burney?"
+
+"The question is an insult--"
+
+"Nothing of her seducer?"
+
+"I repeat it; the question is an insult," and Herman started up in his
+chair, with flashing eyes and corrugated brow.
+
+"Will you swear that you are ignorant of her retreat, and of the name
+of her seducer?" coolly continued Dermoyne.
+
+"Men of my cloth do not swear," as coolly returned Herman.
+
+"Allow me to congratulate you upon your ignorance," replied Dermoyne,
+"for--for;--will you have the goodness to observe me for a moment?"
+
+While Herman watched him with a wondering eye, the young man replaced
+the gold pieces in his pocket, and rising from his chair, surveyed the
+room with an attentive gaze. His eye rested at length upon an iron
+candlestick, which stood upon a shelf of the library; it was evidently
+out of place in that luxurious room; and had been left there through
+the forgetfulness of the servant who took care of the Rev. Dr. Bulgin's
+study. Dermoyne took this candlestick from the shelf, and then returned
+to the light.
+
+"Do you see this? It is about six inches long and one inch in diameter.
+Would it not take a strong man to break that in twain with both hands?"
+
+Herman took the candlestick; examined it attentively: "It would take a
+Sampson," he said.
+
+"Now look at my hand." Dermoyne extended a hand which, hardened by
+labor in the palm, was not so large as it was muscular and bony.
+
+"What have I to do with your hand?" exclaimed Herman, in evident
+disgust.
+
+"Watch me," said Dermoyne; and, resting the candlestick on his right
+hand, he closed his fingers, and pressed his thumb against it. After an
+instant he opened his hand again. The iron candlestick was bent nearly
+double. Dermoyne had accomplished this feat without the appearance of
+exertion.
+
+"Why, you are a very Hercules!" ejaculated Herman,--"and yet, you are
+not above the medium height. You do not look like a strong man."
+
+"God has invested me with almost superhuman strength," replied
+Dermoyne, as he stood erect before the minister, resting one hand upon
+the table: "had it not been for that, hard work would have killed me
+long ago. I can lift with one hand, a weight, which would task the
+strength of almost any two men but to budge; I can strike a blow,
+which, properly planted, would fell an ox; I can--"
+
+"You needn't dilate," interrupted Herman, "the study of the Rev. Dr.
+Bulgin is not exactly the place for gymnastic experiments--"
+
+"Well, you'll see my drift directly," calmly continued Dermoyne--"I
+have never dared to use this strength, save in the way of work or
+occasional exercise. I regard it as a kind of trust, given to me by
+Providence for a good purpose."
+
+"What purpose, pray?" said Herman, opening his eyes.
+
+"To punish those criminals whom the law does not punish; to protect
+those victims it does not protect," answered Dermoyne, steadily. "Now,
+for instance, were I to encounter the seducer of Alice Burney,--were
+I to stand face to face with him, as I do with you,--were I to
+place my thumb upon his right temple and my fingers upon his left
+temple,--thus--"
+
+"You,--you,--" gasped the minister, who suddenly felt the hand of
+Arthur Dermoyne upon his forehead; the thumb pressed gently upon the
+right temple and the fingers upon his left--"you,--would,--what?"
+
+"I would, quietly, without a word, crush his skull as you might crush
+an egg-shell," slowly answered Dermoyne.
+
+He took his hand away. The face of Herman was white as a sheet. He
+shook in his velvet chair. For a moment he could not speak.
+
+"I, therefore, congratulate you, that you know nothing of the matter,"
+calmly continued Dermoyne, not seeming to notice the fright of the
+minister; "for, with a villain like this unknown seducer before me, I
+would lose all control over myself, and (ere I was aware of it) I would
+have wiped him out of existence. This would be murder, you are about
+to remark! So it would. But, is not this seducer a murderer in a three
+fold sense? First, he has murdered the chastity of this poor girl; and
+second, in the attempt to get rid of the proof of his guilt, he _may_
+(who knows?) murder her body and the body of her unborn child."
+
+The room was still as the grave, as Dermoyne concluded the last
+sentence.
+
+Barnhurst sank back in the chair, helpless as a child. For a moment his
+self-possession deserted him. His guilt was stamped upon his face.
+
+"Here you can count three murders," continued Dermoyne, not seeming
+to notice the dismay of the minister,--"the murder of a woman's
+purity,--the murder of her body--the murder of her babe. Now, I don't
+pretend to say, that it would be RIGHT for me to kill the three fold
+murderer, but I do say, that, were I to meet him, and _know_ his guilt,
+that my blood would boil,--my eyes would grow dim,--my hand would be
+extended, and in an instant, would hold his mangled skull, between the
+thumb and fingers."
+
+Herman's arms dropped helplessly by his side. He was extended in the
+capacious chair, a vivid picture of helpless fright.
+
+Dermoyne, whose broad chest and bold features, caught on one side the
+glow of the light, as he stood erect by the table, gazed upon the
+minister with a calm look, and continued--
+
+"So, you see, I congratulate you, that you know nothing of the matter--"
+
+"Oh, I am shocked, shocked," and Herman made out to cover his face with
+his hands, "I am shocked, at the vivid, viv-id," he stammered,--"vivid
+picture which you have drawn of the crimes of this seducer."
+
+Dermoyne sank quietly into the chair on the opposite side of the table,
+and shaded his eyes with his right hand. He also was _thinking_.
+
+For a long pause, there was profound stillness. The lamp on the table
+shed its luxurious light over the vast room, peopled as it was, with
+images of wealth, ease and voluptuousness, and upon the figures of
+these men, seated opposite to each other, and each with his eyes shaded
+by his hand.
+
+At length, Herman recovering a portion of his self-possession,
+exclaimed without raising his hands from his face:
+
+"I trust you will end this interview at once. You have given my nerves
+a severe shock. To-morrow,--to-morrow,--I will talk to you about the
+Van Huyden estate, about which, I presume, you asked this interview."
+
+Dermoyne raised his hand to his forehead,--somewhat after the manner
+of Herman,--and surveyed the clergyman with a keen, searching gaze.
+Gradually a smile, so faint as to be scarcely perceptible, stole over
+his features.
+
+Herman felt the force of that gaze and his smooth complexion turned
+from deathly white to scarlet, and from scarlet to deathly white again.
+
+"What next?" he muttered to himself, "does _he_ know? Had I better call
+for assistance?"
+
+Dermoyne, quietly left his seat, and advancing until he confronted
+Herman, placed a small piece of paper on the table, and held it firmly
+under his thumb, so that the words written upon it, were legible in the
+lamp-light.
+
+"Read that," he said, and his flashing eye was fixed on Barnhurst's
+face.
+
+Half wondering, half stupefied, Barnhurst bent forward and read:--
+
+ _Dec_. 24, 1844.
+
+ MADAM:--Your _patient_ will come to-night.
+
+ HERMAN BARNHURST.
+
+As he read, Herman looked like a man who has received his
+death-warrant. The very effort,--and it was a mortal one,--which
+he made to control himself, only gave a stronger agitation to his
+quivering lineaments.
+
+"Can you tell where I found this?" whispered Dermoyne. "Near the
+mangled body of the father of Alice,--at sunset, but a few hours ago,
+and at the house half-way between New York and Philadelphia,--there
+among the ashes, and half consumed by fire, I discovered this precious
+document. Did you drop this paper from your pocket, my friend, when you
+sought shelter in the house, after the accident on the railroad, last
+night?"
+
+Herman had not the power to reply. His eyes were riveted by the
+half-burned fragment.
+
+"What has the Rev. Herman Barnhurst, the clergyman, to do with MADAM
+RESIMER, _the murderess of unborn children_?" continued Dermoyne; "and
+the _patient_,--who is the _patient_? Is it Alice? This letter is dated
+the 24th, and to-morrow night, Alice will cross the threshold of that
+hell, where THE MADAM rules, as the presiding Devil!"
+
+A gleam of hope shot across Herman's soul. "He does not know, that
+Alice is already in the care of Madam Resimer. Courage,--courage!"
+
+"Have you no answer?" Dermoyne's eye gleamed with deadly light; still
+holding the paper, he advanced a step nearer to the clergyman.
+
+"Yes, I have an answer!" exclaimed Herman, sinking back in the chair:
+"that letter is a forgery."
+
+Dermoyne was astonished.
+
+"You never wrote it?"
+
+"Never,--never!" Herman raised his hands to Heaven,--"it is the work of
+some mortal enemy. Beside, were I guilty, is it reasonable to suppose,
+that I, a clergyman, would sign my own name to a letter addressed to
+Madam Resimer?"
+
+Dermoyne was puzzled; he glanced from the letter to Barnhurst's face,
+and a look of doubt clouded his features.
+
+"A forgery?" he asked.
+
+"An infamous forgery!" cried Barnhurst, resuming his dignity. "Now,
+that you have wrung my very soul, by an accusation so utterly infamous,
+so thoroughly improbable, let me hope that you will--" he pointed to
+the door.
+
+Dermoyne resumed his cap and cloak, first, carefully replacing the
+letter in his vest pocket.
+
+"By to-morrow," he said, in a voice which rang low and distinct
+through the apartment, "by to-morrow, I will know the truth of this
+matter; and if I discover that this is, indeed, your letter,--if you
+have, indeed, dishonored poor Alice, and consigned herself and unborn
+babe, to the infernal mercies of Madam Resimer, why then,"--he moved
+toward the door, "then there will be one man the less, on the 25th of
+December."
+
+He opened the door, and was gone ere his words had ceased to echo on
+the air.
+
+His parting words rung in the very soul of the clergymen, as his
+footsteps died away on the stairs.
+
+"What an abyss have I escaped!" ejaculated Herman, "exposure, disgrace
+and death!" He pressed his scented kerchief over his forehead, and
+wiped away the cold sweat which moistened it. "Fool! he little knows
+that Alice is already _there_. The Madam is a shrewd woman. Her rooms
+are dark, her doors secured by double bolts; her secrets are given to
+the keeping of the grave. This miserable idiot, this cobbler, cannot
+possibly gain admittance into her mansion? No, no, this thought is
+idle. And Alice, poor child, why can't I marry her? Her father's death
+will leave her in possession of a handsome fortune,--why can't I marry
+her?"
+
+Too well he knew the _only_ answer to this question.
+
+"We are all but mortal; she may _die_!" and an expression of remarkable
+complacency came over his face. Joining his thumbs and fingers in front
+of his breast, he reflected deeply. "But if she survives?"
+
+His brow became clouded, his lips compressed; all the _vulture_ of his
+soul was written on his vulture-like countenance.
+
+"If she survives!"
+
+While the light disclosed his slender figure, centered in the scarlet
+cushions of the arm-chair, and fell upon his countenance, revealing the
+purpose which was written there, Herman still muttered between his set
+teeth, the question, "IF she survives?" To him, it was a question of
+life and death.
+
+But his meditations were interrupted by a burst of boisterous laughter.
+
+"Why Barnhurst! you are grave as an owl. What's the matter, my dear?"
+
+Herman looked up with a start, and a half-muttered ejaculation. The
+Rev. Dr. Bulgin stood before him, his cloak on his arm, and a cap in
+his hand.
+
+"I thought you was out of town?" cried Herman.
+
+"So I was; a convention of divines, speeches, resolutions, and so
+forth, you know. But now I'm in town, and,--such an adventure, my dear
+boy! I must tell you of it."
+
+Before Bulgin tells his adventure, we must look at him. A man of
+thirty-five years, with broad shoulders, heavy chest and unwieldy
+limbs; a portly man, some would call him, dressed in black, of
+course, and with a white cravat about his neck, which was short and
+fat. Draggled masses of brownish hair stray, in uneven ends, about
+Bulgin's face and ears; that face is round and shiny,--its hue, a
+greasy florid,--its brow, broad and low; its eyes large, moist and
+oyster-like. In a word, the upper part of Bulgin's head indicates the
+man of intellect; the face, the eyes, mouth, nose and all, tell the
+story of a nature thoroughly animal,--bestial, would be a truer word.
+
+That head and face were but too true in their indications.
+
+Bulgin was, in intellect, something of a god; in real life; in the
+gratification of appetite; in habits, strengthened by the growth
+of years, he was a beast. It may seem a harsh word, but it is the
+only one that suits Bulgin's case. He was a beast. Not a quiet ox,
+cropping clover at his ease, nor yet a lordly bull, madly tossing his
+horns in the center of a grassy field,--of course, we mean nothing of
+the kind,--but a beast on two legs, gifted with a strong intellect
+and an immortal soul, and devoting intellect and soul to the full
+gratification of his beastly nature. He was, withal, a good-humored
+beast. He enjoyed a joke. His laugh was jovial; reminding you of
+goblets of wine and suppers of terrapin. His manner was off-hand,
+free and easy--out of the pulpit, of course; in the pulpit, no one so
+demure, so zealous and pathetic as the Rev. Dr. Bulgin.
+
+He regarded his ministerial office as a piece of convenient clock-work,
+invented some years ago, for the purpose of supplying the masses with
+_something to believe_; and men like himself, with a good salary, a
+fine house, plenty to eat and drink, fair social position, and free
+opportunity for the gratification of every appetite.
+
+His creed was a part of this clock-work. It was his living. Therefore,
+everything that he wrote or uttered, in regard to religion, was true
+to his creed; true, eloquent, and breathing the loftiest enthusiasm.
+To doubt his creed, was to doubt his living. Therefore, the Rev.
+Dr. Bulgin did not doubt his creed, but took it as he found it, and
+advocated it with all the energy of his intellectual nature.
+
+As to any possible appreciation of the Bible, or of that Savior who,
+emerging from the shop of a carpenter, came to speak words of hope
+to all mankind, and, in especial, to that portion who bear all the
+slavery, and do all the work of the world, the Rev. Dr. Bulgin never
+troubled himself with thoughts like these; he was above and beyond
+them; the Bible and the Savior were, in his estimation, convenient
+parts of that convenient clock-work which afforded him the pleasant sum
+of five thousand dollars per year.
+
+To look at the Rev. Dr. Bulgin; to see him stand there, with his
+sensual form and swinish face, you would not think that he was the
+author of one of the most spiritual works in the world, entitled "Our
+Communion with the Spirit."
+
+To _know_ the Rev. Dr. Bulgin,--to know him when, his stage drapery
+laid aside, he appeared the thing he was,--you could, by no means,
+imagine that he was the author of an excellent work on "Private Prayer."
+
+And yet he was no hypocrite; not, at least, in the common sense of the
+word. He was an intellectual animal whose utmost hopes were bounded
+by the horizon of this world. Beyond this world there was NOTHING. He
+was an Atheist. Not an Atheist publishing a paper advocating Atheistic
+principles, but an Atheist in the pulpit, professing to preach the
+Gospel of Jesus Christ. You may shudder at the thought, but the
+Reverend Doctor Bulgin was such a man.
+
+And just such men, in churches of all kinds,--Protestants and
+Catholics, Orthodox and Heterodox,--have these eighteen hundred years
+been preaching a clock-work Gospel, leaving unsaid, uncared for, the
+true Word of the Master--a Word which says, in one breath, temporal
+and spiritual prayers--a Word which enjoins the establishment of the
+kingdom of God, _on earth_, in the physical and intellectual welfare of
+the greatest portion of mankind.
+
+Too well these Atheists know that were that Word once boldly uttered,
+their high pulpits and magnificent livings would vanish like cobwebs
+before the sweeper's broom.
+
+How much evil have such Atheists accomplished in the course of eighteen
+hundred years?
+
+It will do no harm to think upon this subject, just a little.
+
+"Herman, my boy, I must tell you of my last adventure," said Bulgin,
+dropping into the seat which Dermoyne had lately occupied; "it will
+make your mouth water!" He smacked his lips and clapped his hands; the
+lips were _oily_, and the hands fat and dumpy. "But, first, you must
+tell me what's the matter with you? Anything wrong in your church?"
+
+"That doesn't trouble me," responded Herman. "True, there is the trial
+of the Bishop, and the wrangling of these Low Church fellows, about our
+gowns and altars; our views of the sacrament, and our high notions of
+the priesthood. These Low Church people are actually _Methodists_. They
+would rob the church of all dignity, and turn the priest of the altar
+into the ranter of the conventicle,--"
+
+"We are not troubled with bishops, nor apostolic successions,"
+interrupted Bulgin: "High and Low Church don't trouble us.--Our
+deacons want a minister; they _call_ him and _pay_ him. Now, if our
+church admitted of a bishop, I think that--" he put his thumbs in
+the arm-holes of his vest, and surveyed his heavy limbs with great
+complacency, "that your humble servant would make a--"
+
+"Bishop?" cried Herman, with a laugh.
+
+"Ay, and a capital bishop, too, if all be true that these Low Church
+fellows say of the Bishop of your church. I am a man of _feeling_, eh,
+my boy?"
+
+This was a home thrust. Notwithstanding his intimacy with Bulgin,
+Herman did not regard him as a _real_ priest of _the_ church, but
+only as the called teacher of a congregation. Therefore, he felt the
+allusion to his bishop the more heavily.
+
+"You were speaking of an adventure?" suggested Herman, anxious to
+change the subject: "What about it?"
+
+Bulgin flung back his head, and burst into a roar of laughter.
+
+"I'm laughing at my adventure, not at you, my dear Herman. Just imagine
+my case. I have a patient on my hands, who is rich, crippled with a
+dozen diseases, and troubled in his mind on some _doctrinal_ point. In
+the morning I visit the old gentleman, and after hearing afresh the
+list of his diseases, I _soothe_ him on the doctrinal point.--Soothe
+him, and quote the Fathers, and fire him up with a word or two about
+the Pope. And in the afternoon--" he closed one eye, and looked at
+Herman in such a manner, that the latter could not avoid a burst of
+laughter, "in the afternoon, while the old man is asleep, I visit his
+wife,--young and handsome, and such a love of a woman--and soothe her
+mind on another doctrinal point. Sometimes my lessons are prolonged
+until evening, and--ha, ha!--I have my hands full, I assure you."
+
+"You called there to-night, on your way home?" asked Herman, with a
+smile.
+
+"Just to see if the old gentleman was better, and,--but wait a moment,"
+he rose from his chair, and hurried into the shadows of the room,
+turned one of the recesses, between the western windows. There he
+remained, until Herman grew impatient.
+
+"What are you doing," he exclaimed, and as he spoke, Bulgin returned
+toward the light, "what is this!" and his eyes opened with a wondering
+stare.
+
+"I'm a cardinal; that is all. The dress of Leo the Tenth, before he
+became Pope. Don't you think I _look_ the character?"
+
+He was attired in a robe of scarlet velvet, which covered his unwieldy
+form from the neck to the feet, and enveloped his arms in its
+voluminous sleeves. His florid face appeared beneath the broad rim of
+a red hat, and upon his broad chest hung a golden chain, to which was
+appended a huge golden cross. The costume was of the richest texture,
+and gave something of a lordly appearance to the bulky form of the
+reverend doctor.
+
+"I'm a cardinal," said Bulgin with a wink; "There is a nice party of
+us, who meet to-night, between twelve and one, to confer upon _grave_
+matters. Every one wears a mask and costume. Will you go with me? There
+is the robe of a Jesuit yonder, which will fit you to a hair."
+
+Herman's eyes flashed, and he started from his chair.
+
+"The wife of your old _patient_,"--he began.
+
+"Goes as the cardinal's niece, you know! we didn't know the costume
+of a cardinal's niece, and so I told her to wear a dress-coat and
+pantaloons. Will you go?"
+
+Herman's face glowed with the full force of his MONOMANIA.
+
+"For wine and feasting, I care not," he cried, "but a scene where
+beautiful women--" he paused, and fixed his eyes on vacancy, while that
+singular monomania shone from his humid eyes, and fired his cheeks with
+a vivid glow. "Where are we to go?" he asked.
+
+"To the TEMPLE," said the Rev. Dr. Bulgin, with his finger on his
+light: "You remember the night when we were there?"
+
+"Remember?" echoed the Rev. Herman Barnhurst, with an accent of
+inexpressible rapture: "Can I ever forget?" He strode hastily toward
+the recess. "Where is the Jesuit robe?"
+
+But as he touched the curtain of the recess, he was palsied by a sudden
+thought.
+
+"Ah, this cobbler, this Dermoyne! He will go to Madame Resimer's with
+my note in his hand, and pretend to come in my name. He will, at least,
+induce her to open the doors, and then force his way into her house. If
+he enters there, I am lost."
+
+Turning to Bulgin, he flung his cloak around him, and took up his cap.
+"No, sir, I cannot go with you. Excuse me--I am in a great hurry."
+
+He hurried to the door, and disappeared ere Bulgin could answer him
+with a word.
+
+"Dermoyne has a half an hour's start of me," muttered Herman, as he
+disappeared, "I must be quick, or I am lost."
+
+"That is cool!" soliloquized Bulgin: "some difficulty about a woman, I
+suppose: our young friend must be cautious: _exposure_ in these matters
+is fatal."
+
+Without bestowing another word upon his friend, the Rev. Dr. Bulgin,
+attired in the cardinal's hat and robe, sank in the arm-chair, and put
+his feet upon the table, and flung back his head, thus presenting one
+of the finest pictures of ecclesiastical ease, that ever gratified the
+eyes of mortal man.
+
+He suffered himself to be seduced into the mazes of an enchanting
+reverie:
+
+"Ah, that's my ideal of a man," he suffered his eye to rest upon the
+head of Leo the Tenth: "Without a particle of religion to trouble him,
+he took care of the spiritual destinies of the world, and at the same
+time enjoyed his palace, where the wine was of the choicest, and the
+women of the youngest and most beautiful. He _was_ a gentleman. While
+poor Martin Luther was giving himself a great deal of trouble about
+this worthless world, Leo had a world of his own, within the Vatican, a
+world of wit, of wine and beauty. That's my ideal of an ecclesiastic.
+Religion, its machinery, and its terrors for the masses,--for
+ourselves," he glanced around his splendid room, "something like
+_this_, and five thousand a year."
+
+And the good man shook with laughter.
+
+"I must be going,"--he rose to his feet--"It's after twelve now, and
+before one, I must be at THE TEMPLE."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And while Barnhurst, Bulgin and Dermoyne go forth on their respective
+ways, let us--although the TEMPLE is very near--gaze upon a scene, by
+no means lighted by festal lamps, or perfumed with voluptuous flowers.
+Let us descend into the subterranean world, sunken somewhere in the
+vicinity of Five Points and the Tombs.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+BELOW FIVE POINTS.
+
+
+It is now the hour of twelve, midnight, on the 23d of December, 1844.
+
+We are in the region of the Five Points, near the Tombs, whose sullen
+walls look still more ominous and gloomy in the wintery starlight.
+
+Enter the narrow door of the frame-house, which seems toppling to
+the ground. You hear the sound of the violin, and by the light of
+tallow candles, inserted in tin sconces which are affixed to the
+blackened walls, you discover some twenty persons, black, white and
+chocolate-colored, of all ages and both sexes, dancing and drinking
+together. It is an orgie--an orgie of crime, drunkenness and rags.
+
+Pass into the next room. By a single light, placed on a table, you
+discover the features of three or four gamblers,--not gamblers of the
+gentlemanly stamp, who, in luxurious chambers, prolong the game of
+"poker" all night long, until the morning breaks, or the champagne
+gives out,--but gamblers of a lower stamp, ill-dressed fellows, whose
+highest stake is a shilling, and whose favorite beverage is whisky, and
+whisky that is only whisky in name, while in fact, it is poison of the
+vilest sort--whisky classically called "red-eye."
+
+Open a scarcely distinguishable door, at the back of the ruffian who
+sits at the head of the table. Descend a narrow stairway, or rather
+ladder, which lands you in the darkness, some twenty feet below the
+level of the street. Then, in the darkness, feel your way along the
+passage which turns to the right and left, and from left to right
+again, until your senses are utterly bewildered. At length, after
+groping your way in the darkness, over an uneven floor, and between
+narrow walls; after groping your way you know not how far, you descend
+a second ladder, ten feet or more, and find yourself confronted by a
+door. You are at least two stories under ground, and all is dark around
+you--the sound of voices strikes your ear; but do not be afraid. Find
+the latch of the door and push it open. A strange scene confronts you.
+
+The Black Senate!
+
+A room or cell, some twenty feet square, is warmed by a small coal
+stove, which, heated to a red heat, stands in the center, its pipe
+inserted in the low ceiling, and leading you know not where. Around the
+stove, by the light of three tallow candles placed upon a packing-box,
+are grouped some twenty or thirty persons, who listen attentively to
+the words of the gentleman who is seated by the packing-box.
+
+This gentleman is almost a giant; his chest is broad; his limbs brawny;
+and his face, black as the "ace of spades," is in strong contrast with
+his white teeth, white eyeballs, white eyebrows, and white wool. He
+is a negro, with flat nose, thick lips, and mouth reaching from ear to
+ear. His almost giant frame is clad in a sleek suit of blue cloth, and
+he wears a cravat of spotless whiteness.
+
+His auditors are not so fortunate in the way of dress. Of all colors,
+from jet black to chocolate-brown, they are clad in all sorts of
+costumes, only alike in raggedness and squalor.
+
+This is the Black Senate, which has met for business to-night, in
+this den, two stories under ground. Its deliberations, in point of
+decorum, may well compare with some other senates,--one in especial,
+where 'Liar!' is occasionally called, fisticuffs exchanged, knives
+and pistols drawn; and it embraces representatives from all parts
+of the Union. Whether, like another senate, it has its dramatic
+characters,--its low clown, melodramatic ruffians, genteel comedian,
+and high tragedy hero, remains to be seen.
+
+The very black gentleman, by the packing-box--book in one hand and
+paper and pencil before him--is the speaker of the house. It is our old
+acquaintance "ROYAL BILL," lately from South Carolina.
+
+"The genelman frum Varginny hab de floor," said the speaker, with true
+parliamentary politeness.
+
+The gentleman from Virginia was a six-foot mulatto, dressed in a
+ragged coat and trowsers of iron gray. As he rose there was an
+evident sensation; white teeth were shown, and "Go in nigga!" uttered
+encouragingly by more than one of the colored congressmen.
+
+"Dis nigga rise to de point ob ordah. Dis nigga am taught a great many
+tings by philosopy. One day, in de 'baccy field, dis nigga says to
+hisself, says he. 'Dat are pig b'longs to massa, so does dis nigga. Dis
+nigga kill dat pig un eat 'um--dat be stealin'? Lordy Moses--no! It
+only be puttin' one ting dat b'longs to massa into anoder ting dat also
+b'longs to massa:'--dat's philosopy--"
+
+"S'pose de nigga be caught?" interrupted a colored gentleman, lighting
+his pipe at the red-hot stove.
+
+"_Dat_ wouldn't be philosopy," responded the gentleman from Virginia.
+"It ain't philosopy to be caught. On de contrary it am dam foolishness."
+
+A murmur of assent pervaded the place.
+
+"Soh, reasonin' from de pig, dis nigga wor taught by philosopy to tink
+a great deal--to tink berry much;--and soh, one day de nigga got a kind
+o' absen' minded, and walked off, and _forgot to come back_.--Dis nigga
+actooaly did."
+
+"Dat _wor_ philosopy!" said a voice.
+
+"An' as de nigga is in bad health, he am on his way to Canada, whar
+de climate am good for nigga's pulmonaries. An' fur fear de nigga
+mought hurt people's feelin', he trabels by night; an' fur fear he
+mought be axed questi'n which 'ud trubble him to ansaw, he carries dese
+sartificats--"
+
+He showed his certificates--a revolving pistol and a knife. And each
+one of the colored congressmen produced certificates of a similar
+character from their rags.
+
+"Lor', philosopy am a dam good ting!"
+
+"Don't sweah, nigga!--behabe yesself!"
+
+"Read us nudder won ob dem good chap'er from de Bible, Mistaw Speakaw,"
+cried a dark gentleman, addressing old Royal.-"'_Ehud, I hab a message
+from God to dee!_' Yah-hah-hah!"
+
+"Yah-hah-a-what!" chorused the majority of the congress, showing their
+teeth and shaking their woolly heads together.
+
+"Jis tell us som'thin' more about yer ole massa, dat you lick last
+night," cried a voice.
+
+"Dat am an ole story," said old Royal, with dignity. "Suffis it to say,
+dat about five o'clock last ebenin', I took massa Harry from de house
+whar he'd been licked, de night afore, and tuk him in a carriage and
+put 'im aboard de cars at Princeton. I gib him some brandy likewise.
+His back was berry sore--"
+
+Here one of the gentlemen broke in with a parody of a well-known song--
+
+    "Oh, carry me back to ole Varginny--
+    My back am berry sore--"
+
+He began, in rich Ethiopian bass.
+
+"Silence nigga!" said old Royal, sternly, yet, showing his white teeth
+in a broad grin. "He am in New York at the present time, at de Astor
+House, I 'spec'; an' de Bloodhoun' am with him--"
+
+"De kidnapper!"
+
+"De nigger-catcher!"
+
+Cries like these resounded from twenty throats; and by the way in which
+knives and pistols were produced and brandished, it was evident that
+there was a cordial feeling--almost too cordial--entertained by the
+congress, toward our old friend, Bloodhound.
+
+"To business," said old Royal, surveying the motley crowd. "I hab come
+to visit you to-night by d'rection ob _somebody dat you don't know_. It
+am ob de last importance dat you all get yesselves out o' dis town to
+Canada as quick as de Lord 'ill let you. Darfore I hab provided you wid
+dem revolvers,"--he pointed to the pistols, "and derfore I am here, to
+send you on yer ways, for de kidnappers am about."
+
+"Oh, dam de kidnappers!" was the emphatic remark of a dark gentleman;
+and it was chorused by the congress unanimously.
+
+"It am berry easy to say 'dam de kidnappers,'--berry easy to say
+dam--dam's a berry short word; but s'pose de kidnapper hab you, and tie
+you, and take you down south--eh, nigga? w'at den?"
+
+But before the gentlemen could reply to this pointed question of old
+Royal's, a circumstance took place which put an entire new face upon
+the state of affairs.
+
+The door was burst open, and two persons tumbled into the room, heels
+over head. Descending the stairs in the darkness, these persons had
+missed their footing, and fell. The door gave way before their united
+weight, and they rolled into the room in a style more forcible than
+graceful.
+
+When these persons recovered themselves and rose to their feet, they
+found themselves encircled by some thirty uplifted knives,--every knife
+grasped by the hand of a brawny negro. And the cry which greeted them
+was by no means pleasant to hear:--
+
+"Death to the kidnappers!"
+
+"We're fooled. It's a trap," cried one of the persons--our old friend
+Bloodhound.
+
+"Trap or no trap, I'll cut the heart of the damned nigger that comes
+near me," cried the other person, who was none other than our friend
+Harry Royalton, of Hill Royal, South Carolina.
+
+The cloak had fallen from his shoulders, the cap from his brow. He
+stood erect, his tall form clad in black, with a gold chain on the
+breast, dilating in every muscle. His face, with its large eyes and
+bushy whiskers--a face by no means unhandsome, as regards mere _animal_
+beauty--was convulsed with rage. And even as he started to his feet, he
+drew a revolver from his belt, and stood at bay, the very picture of
+ferocity and desperation. While his right hand grasped the revolver,
+his left hand flourished a bowie-knife. Harry Royalton was dangerous.
+
+By his side was the short, stout figure of the Bloodhound, encased
+to his chin in a rough overcoat, and, with his stiff, gray hairs
+straggling from beneath his seal-skin cap over his prominent
+cheek-bones. His small gray eyes, twinkling under his bushy brows,
+glanced around with a look half desperation, half fear.
+
+And around the twain crowded the negroes, every hand grasping a knife;
+every face distorted with hatred; and old Royal, in his sleek blue
+dress and white cravat, prominent in that group of black visages and
+ragged forms.
+
+"They've got us! Judas Iscar-i-ot! It's a trap, my boy. We'll have to
+cut ourselves loose."
+
+"Back, you dogs!" shouted Harry, with the attitude and look of command.
+"The first one that lays a finger on me I'll blow him to ----!"
+
+There was a pause of a moment, ere the conflict began. Thirty uplifted
+knives, awaited only a look, a gesture, from old Royal.
+
+That gentleman, grinning until his white teeth were visible almost from
+ear to ear, said calmly--"Dis am a revivin' time, wid showers of grace!
+Some nigga shut dat door and make 'um fast."
+
+His words were instantly obeyed; one of the thirty closed the door and
+bolted it.
+
+"Now, massa Harry," said old Royal, grinning and showing the whites
+of his eyes, "dis am a fav'oble opportunity fur savin' your poor lost
+soul. How you back feel, ole boy? Want a leetle more o' de same sort,
+p'raps? S'pose you draw dat trigger? Jis try. Lor a massa, why dere's
+enough niggas here to eat you up widout pepper or salt."
+
+Harry laid his finger on the trigger and fired, at the same moment
+stepping suddenly backward, with the intention of planting himself
+against the wall. But he forgot the negroes behind him. As he fired,
+his heels were tripped up; his ball passed over old Royal's head. Harry
+was leveled to the floor, and in an instant old Royal's giant-like
+gripe was on his throat. And by his side, wriggling in the grasp
+of a huge negro, black as ink, and strong as Hercules, our friend
+Bloodhound, rubbed his face against the floor.
+
+Over and around these central figures gathered the remainder of the
+band, filling the den with their shouts--
+
+"Death to the dam kidnappers!"
+
+"Yah-hah! Cut their dam throats!"
+
+Cries like these, interspersed with frightful howls, filled the place.
+
+The Bloodhound moaned pitifully; and Harry, with the suffocating gripe
+of old Royal on his throat, and his back yet raw from the lashes of the
+previous night, could not repress a groan of agony.
+
+It was a critical moment.
+
+"Do you know, massa Harry,"--and old Royal bent his face down until
+Harry felt his breath upon his cheek--"Do you know, massa Harry, dat
+you are not berry far from glory? Kingdom-come am right afore, ole
+boy--and you am booked--hah! yah!--wid a through ticket."
+
+Old Royal, (who had laid down his pistol,) took a knife from one of the
+negroes, and, tightening his gripe and pressing his knee more firmly on
+Harry's breast, he passed the glittering blade before his eyes.
+
+"Oh!" groaned Royalton. The groan was wrung from him by intolerable
+agony.
+
+"Let me up--a-h!" cried Bloodhound, in a smothered voice, as his face
+was pressed against the hard boards.
+
+"Death to the dam kidnappers!"
+
+Old Royalton clenched the knife with his left hand, and placed its
+point against Harry's breast.
+
+"You am bound for glory, massa--" and a negro held a candle over
+Harry's face, as old Royal spoke.
+
+At this critical moment, even as Harry's life hung on a thread, a
+violent knocking was heard at the door, and a voice resounded through
+its panels--
+
+"Old Royal, old Royal, I say! Let me in, quick! quick!"
+
+"Open the door, nigga. It's massa Harry's brack brudder. Let um in, so
+he can see his brudder bound for glory!"
+
+The door was opened, and Randolph, pale as death, came rushing to the
+light. Wrapped in the cloak, which concealed his pistols and knives,
+and which hung about his tall form in heavy folds, he advanced with a
+footstep at once trembling and eager.
+
+His pale face was stamped with hatred; his blue eyes shone with
+vengeance, as he at a glance beheld the pitiful condition of his
+brother.
+
+"Soh, brother of mine, we have met again!" he cried, in a voice which
+was hoarse and deep with the thirst of vengeance.
+
+"Why, he's whitaw dan his white brudder!" cried the negro who held the
+light.
+
+"Release him," cried Randolph--"Release him, I say! Tie that fellow
+there;" he touched Bloodhound with his foot; "close the door. You'll
+see a fight worth seeing; a fight between the master and slave, between
+brother and brother. Do you hear me, Royal? Let him get up,--"
+
+"But massa 'Dolph!" hesitated old Royal.
+
+"Up, I say!" and Randolph flung his cap and cloak to the floor, and
+drew two bowie-knives from his belt. "Up, I say! You have heard my
+history from old Royal?" he glanced around among the negroes.
+
+"Yah-hah! an' ob de lashes dat you gib dis dam kidnapper!" said the
+negro who held the candle.
+
+"Then stand by and see us settle our last account," cried Randolph.
+"Let him get up, old Royal."
+
+Old Royal released his hold, and Harry slowly arose to his feet, and
+stood face to face with his brother.
+
+"Good evening, brother," said Randolph. "We have met again, and for the
+last time. One of us will not leave this place alive. Take your choice
+of knives, brother. I will fight you with my left hand; I swear it by
+my mother's name!"
+
+Harry looked around with a confused glance--
+
+"It is easy for you to talk," he said, brushing his hand over his
+forehead and eyes, as if in effort to collect his scattered senses.
+"Even if I kill you, these niggers will kill me. They will not let me
+leave the door alive, even if I master you."
+
+"Old Royal, you know my history; and you know how this man has treated
+me and my sister--his own flesh and blood. Now swear to me, that in
+case he is the victor in the contest that is about to take place, you
+will let him go from this place free and unharmed?"
+
+"I--I--swear it massa 'Dolph; I swear it by de Lord!"
+
+"And you?" Randolph turned to the negroes.
+
+"We does jist as old Royal says," cried the one who held the candle;
+and the rest muttered their assent.
+
+"Take your choice of knives, brother," said Randolph, as his eyes
+shone with deadly light, and his face, already pale, grew perfectly
+colorless: "The handles are toward you; take your choice. Remember I am
+to fight you with my left hand. You are weak, brother, from the wounds
+on your back. With my left hand I will fight and kill you."
+
+Harry Royalton took one of the knives--they were ivory handled, silver
+mounted, and their blades were long, sharp and glittering--and at the
+same time surveyed his brother from head to foot.
+
+"I can kill him," he thought, and smiled; and then said aloud, "I am
+ready."
+
+The negroes formed a circle; old Royal held the light, and the brothers
+stood in the center, silently surveying each other, ere the fatal
+contest began. Every eye remarked the contrast between their faces.
+Harry's face flushed with long-pent-up rage, and Randolph's, pallid as
+a corpse, yet with an ominous light in his eyes. Both tall and well
+formed; both clad in black, which showed to advantage, their broad
+chests and muscular arms; there was, despite the color of their eyes
+and hair, some trace of a family likeness in their faces.
+
+"Come, brother, begin," said Randolph, in a low voice, which was
+heard distinctly through the profound stillness. "Remember that
+I am your slave, and that when I have killed you, I, with sister
+Esther, also your slave, will inherit one seventh of the Van Huyden
+estate,--remember how you have lashed and hounded us,--remember the
+dying words of our father--and then defend yourself: for I must kill
+you, brother. Come!"
+
+Raising the knife with his left hand, he drew his form to its full
+height, and stood on his defense.
+
+You might have heard a pin drop in that crowded cellar.
+
+"You damned slave!" shouted Harry, and at the same time, rushed
+forward, clutching his knife in his right hand. His face was inflamed
+with rage, his eye steady, his hand firm, and the point of his knife
+was aimed at his brother's heart.
+
+The intention was deadly, but the knife never harmed Randolph's heart.
+Even as Harry rushed forward, his knees bent under him, and he fell
+flat on his face, and the knife dropped from his nerveless fingers.
+Overcome by the violence of his emotions, which whirled all the blood
+in his body, in a torrent to his head, he had sunk lifeless on the
+floor, even as he sprang forward to plunge his knife into his brother's
+heart.
+
+Randolph, who had prepared himself to meet his brother's blow, was
+thunderstruck by this unexpected incident.
+
+"De Lord hab touck him," cried old Royal; "he am dead."
+
+Dead! At that word, revenge, vengeance, the memory of his wrongs, and
+of his brother's baseness, all glided from Randolph's heart, like snow
+before the flame. In vain he tried to combat this sudden change of
+feeling. Dead! The word struck him to the soul. He dropped his knife,
+and sinking on one knee, he placed upon the other the head of his
+lifeless brother. Harry's eyes were closed, as if in death; his lips
+hung apart, his face was colorless.
+
+"De Lord hab touck him," again cried old Royal; and his remark was
+welcomed by a burst of laughter from the thirty negroes, which broke
+upon the breathless stillness, like the yell of so many devils.
+
+"He is not dead: he has only fainted. Water! water!" cried Randolph.
+But he cried in vain.
+
+"Dis nigga am not agoin' to gib him one drop to cool him parched
+tongue," said old Royal, showing his teeth. "What say, niggas?"
+
+"Not a drop! not a dam drop!"
+
+Reaching forth his hand, Randolph seized his cap and cloak, and then
+started to his feet, with the insensible form of Harry in his arms.
+Without a word, he moved to the door.
+
+"Massa 'Dolph, massa 'Dolph!" shouted old Royal. "By de Lord, you don't
+take him from dis place;" and he endeavored to place himself between
+Randolph and the door.
+
+Randolph saw the determination which was written on his face, and saw
+the looks and heard the yells of the thirty negroes; and then, without
+a word, felled old Royal to the floor. One blow of his right hand,
+planted on the negro's breast, struck him down like an ox under the
+butcher's ax. When old Royal, mad with rage, rose to his feet again,
+Randolph had disappeared--disappeared with his brother, whom he bore in
+his arms to upper air.
+
+"Let's after um," shouted the foremost of the negroes.
+
+Old Royal stepped to the door, (which Randolph had closed after him,)
+but stopped abruptly on the threshold, as if arrested by a sudden
+thought.
+
+"Dis nigga meet you 'gin, massa 'Dolph," he muttered, and then,
+pointing to something which was folded up in one corner, he said,
+"Dar's game fur you niggas!"
+
+He pointed to the form of poor Bloodhound, who, tied and gagged, lay
+helpless and groaning on the floor.
+
+It was, perhaps, the most remarkable hour in Bloodhound's life. His
+hands and feet tightly bound, a coarse handkerchief wound over his
+mouth, and tied behind his neck, he was deprived of the power of speech
+or motion. But the power of vision remained. His small gray eyes
+twinkled fearfully, as he beheld the faces of the thirty negroes--faces
+that were convulsed with rage, resembling not so much the visages of
+men as of devils. And he could also hear. He heard the yell from thirty
+throats, a yell which was chorused with certain words, mingling his own
+name with an emphatic desire for his blood--his life.
+
+Bloodhound was an old man; his hair was gray with the snows of sixty
+years, spent in the practice of all the virtues; but Bloodhound felt
+a peculiar sensation gather about his heart, at this most remarkable
+moment of his life.
+
+"Bring forrad de pris'ner," said old Royal, resuming his seat by the
+packing-box. "Put 'um on him feet. Take de kankercher from him jaw."
+
+He was obeyed. Bloodhound stood erect in the center of the group,
+his hands and feet tied, but his tongue free. The light, uplifted in
+the hand of a brawny negro, fell fully upon his _corded_ face, with
+its gray hair, bushy eyebrows, and wide mouth. Bloodhound's hands
+shook,--not with cold, for the place was suffocatingly warm,--and
+Bloodhound trembled in every atom of his short thick-set body. Glancing
+before him, then to the right and left, and then backward over each
+shoulder, he saw black faces everywhere, and black hands grasping sharp
+knives, confronted him at every turn.
+
+"You am a berry handsum man," said old Royal, encouragingly. "Jist look
+at um, niggas. Do you know de pris'ner?"
+
+The replies to this query came so fast and thick, that we are unable to
+put them all upon paper.
+
+"He stole me fader!"
+
+"He took me mother from Fildelfy and sold her down south."
+
+"He kidnapped my little boy."
+
+"Dam kidnapper! he stole my wife!"
+
+"I knows him, I does--he does work for da man dat sells niggas in
+Baltimore."
+
+"Don't you know how he tuk de yaller gal away from Fildelfy, making
+b'lieve dat her own fader was a-dyin', and sent for her?"
+
+Such were a few of the responses to old Royal's question. It was
+evident that Bloodhound was _known_. And, although his hair had grown
+gray in the practice of all the virtues, it did not give him much
+pleasure to find that he was known; for he felt that he was in the
+hands of the wicked.
+
+"Don't hurt me, niggers, don't hurt me! I wasn't after any of you, upon
+my word, I wasn't. I've allays been good to the niggers, when I could
+get a chance,--don't hurt me!"
+
+"Oh! we won't go fur to hurt massa, will we niggas?" replied old Royal.
+
+"O' cos not. Don't tink of sich a ting!! Yah-hah!"
+
+"You see I've got a child at home," faltered Bloodhound, "that is to
+say, two or three of 'em. You wouldn't go to hurt the father of a
+family, would you?"
+
+"Does you know massa, dat you mos' make dis nigga cry," cried old
+Royal, with an infernal grin. "Niggas, 'scure dis tear! He am de fader
+ob a family, dis good man am."
+
+Old Royal wiped away a tear,--that is, an imaginary tear,--and then
+surveyed the faces of his colored brethren, with a look that turned
+Bloodhound's heart to ice. He felt that he was lost.
+
+"Don't, don't, d-o-n-'-t!" he shrieked, in agony of fear, "d-o-n-'-t!"
+
+"Why, who's a-touchin' you? Dar am not a single, solitary, blessed
+soul, layin' a fingaw on you."
+
+As old Royal spoke, he made a sign with the thumb and forefinger
+of his right hand. It was obeyed by a huge negro who stood behind
+Bloodhound,--he struck the wretched man on the back of the head, with
+the stock of a revolver,--struck him with all the force of his brawny
+arm,--and the hard, dull sound of the blow, was heard distinctly, even
+above the fiendish shouts of the negroes.
+
+"Oh! don't, d-o-n-'-t!" shrieked Bloodhound, as the blood spurted over
+his hair and forehead, and even into his eyes; "don't, d-o-n-'-t!"
+
+Another blow.--from behind,--brought him to his knees. And then the
+thirty, or as many as could get near him, closed round him, shouting
+and yelling and striking. Every face was distorted with rage; every
+hand grasped a knife. Old Royal, who calmly surveyed the scene, saw the
+backs and faces of the negroes; saw the knives glittering, as they rose
+and fell; but Bloodhound was not to be seen. But his cries were heard,
+as he madly grappled with the knives which stabbed him,--for his bonds
+had been cut by one of the band,--and these cries, thick and husky, as
+though his utterance was choked by blood, would have moved a heart of
+stone. But every shriek only seemed to give new fire to the rage of
+the negroes; and gathering closer round the miserable man, they lifted
+their knives, dripping with his blood, and struck and struck and struck
+again, until his cries were stilled. As he uttered the last cry, he
+sprang madly into light, for a moment, shook his bloody hands above his
+head, and then fell to rise no more.
+
+You would not have liked to have seen the miserable thing which was
+stretched on the floor, in the center of that horrible circle, a
+miserable, mangled, shapeless thing, which, only a moment ago, was a
+living man.
+
+"Now genelmen," said old Royal, calmly, "de business bein' done, dis
+meetin' stand adjourn till furder ordaw. Niggas, I tink you'd bettaw
+cut stick."
+
+
+
+
+PART THIRD.
+
+"THROUGH THE SILENT CITY."
+
+DECEMBER 24, 1844.
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+THE DEN OF MADAM RESIMER.
+
+
+Yonder, in the still winter night, THE TEMPLE stands, all dark and
+sullen without, but bright with festal lights within. Stand here in
+the dark, and you will see the guests of the temple come,--now one
+by one,--now two by two,--sometimes in parties of four,--and all are
+carefully cloaked and masked. They come noiselessly along the dark
+street: they glide stealthily up the steps, and beneath the arch of the
+gloomy door. A gentle knock,--the door is slightly opened,--a password
+is whispered,--and one by one, and two by two, and sometimes in parties
+of four, the guests of THE TEMPLE glide over its threshold, and pass
+like shadows from the sight.
+
+Shall we also enter? Not yet. We will wait until the revel is at its
+height, and until the masks begin to fall.
+
+Meanwhile, we will follow the adventures of ARTHUR DERMOYNE.
+
+About half-past twelve o'clock, Arthur Dermoyne stood in the street,
+in front of the house of MADAM RESIMER. Wrapped in his cloak, and with
+his cap drawn over his eyes, he stood in the shadows, and gazed fixedly
+upon the mansion opposite. It stood in the midst of a crowded street,
+joined with houses on either side, and yet it stood alone. Black and
+sullen with its closed shutters and somber exterior, it seemed to bear
+upon its face the stamp of the infernal crimes which had been committed
+within its walls. Lofty mansions lined the street, but their wealthy
+occupants little knew the real character of the woman (woman!--fiend
+would be a better name) who tenanted the gloomy house.
+
+With great difficulty,--it matters not how,--Arthur had discovered the
+haunt of this murderess. Her name was one of those names which creep
+through society like the vague panic which foretells the pestilence;
+there were few who did not know that such a person existed, and few
+whose hearts did shrink in loathing, from the very mention of her name.
+But her haunt, centered in an aristocratic quarter, was comparatively
+unknown; only her customers and some of the publishers of newspapers,
+with whom she advertised, were aware that the sullen house which stood
+in a fashionable street, was the den of MADAM RESIMER.
+
+That such a creature should exist, and grow rich in the city of New
+York, in the middle of the nineteenth century, by the pursuit of a
+traffic which, in its incredible infamy, has no name in language, may
+well excite the horror of every man and woman with a human heart within
+their bosom.
+
+We read of the female poisoner, and shudder; but console ourselves with
+the thought, "These things happened in the dark ages, long ago, when
+knowledge was buried, and the human heart was utterly depraved."
+
+We read in the daily papers the announcement of a wretch that, for a
+certain price, she will kill the unborn child,--an announcement made in
+plain terms, and paid for as an advertisement,--and we are dumb. It is
+the nineteenth century: will not future ages, raking the advertisement
+of this infamous woman from some dark corner, guess the awful secrets
+of the nineteenth century from that one infernal blot?
+
+We see a carriage drawn by blooded steeds, whirling through
+Broadway; its only occupant a handsomely-attired female. And we
+say to ourselves, "There goes the murderess of mother and of the
+unborn child--there goes the wretch who thrives by the slaughter
+of lost womanhood; who owns a splendid carriage, a fine mansion,
+and a magnificent fortune, in the very vortex of a depraved social
+world--there goes the instrument of the very vilest crime known in the
+annals of Hell."
+
+These words none of us dare say aloud; we only think of them; and we
+shudder as we see them written on paper,--they are so horribly true.
+
+And as we ask--Why is such a creature _needed_ in the world? Why does
+she find _employment_? Why do a hundred such as her, thrive and grow
+rich in the large cities? we are forced to accept one of these two
+answers:
+
+1. A bad social state, based upon enormous wealth and enormous
+poverty,--a social state which gives to the few the very extravagancies
+of luxury, and deprives the countless many of the barest rights and
+comforts of life,--finds its natural result in the existence of this
+Madam Resimer.
+
+Or,--
+
+2. Human nature is thoroughly depraved. A certain portion of the race
+are born to be damned in this world, as well as in the next. Such
+creatures as Madam Resimer, are but the proper instruments of that
+damnation.
+
+Upon my soul, good friend, who read this book, these answers are worthy
+of some moments of attentive thought.
+
+Arthur Dermoyne stood in the gloom of that winter midnight,--a midnight
+awful and profound, and only deepened in its solemnity, by the clear,
+cold light of the wintery stars. A thousand thoughts flitted over his
+brain, as he gazed upon the fatal house. Was Alice already a tenant
+of that loathsome den? Again and again, he rejected the thought, but
+still, it came back upon him, and crept like ice through his veins.
+If she was, indeed, _within_ these walls, what might be her fate ere
+the morrow's dawn? Arthur could not repress a cry of anguish. A vague
+picture of a lost woman, put to death in the dark, by the gripe of a
+fiend in human shape, seemed to pass before him, like a shadow from the
+other world.
+
+He surveyed the house. A street-lamp, which stood some paces from it,
+shed a faint gleam over its walls, and served to show, that from cellar
+to garret, it was closed like a tomb.
+
+The wealthy tenants of the houses on either hand, had evidently retired
+to their beds. Not a gleam of light shone from their many windows.
+
+The street was profoundly still; a solitary footstep was heard in the
+distance; above the roof was the midnight sky and the wintery stars.
+
+Arthur crossed the street.
+
+"I remember what the policemen told me, who showed me the way to this
+place. Three cellar windows protected by sheet-iron bars; they are
+before me. Beyond these windows a cellar filled with rubbish; then a
+basement room, where one of the Madam's bullies is in waiting, day and
+night, ready to do her bidding."
+
+The Madam was provided with two bullies, whom she had raked from the
+subterranean regions of New York. They were men of immense muscular
+strength, with the print of their depraved nature upon their brutal
+faces. One was six feet two inches in height; he was known among his
+familiars by the succinct name of "DIRK." He used a dirk-knife in his
+encounters. The other, short, bony, with broad chest and low legs, was
+known as "SLUNG-SHOT." His favorite weapon was a leaden ball attached
+to a cord by net-work, with a loop for his wrist. One blow with this
+"Slung-Shot," rightly administered, on the temple, would kill the
+strongest man.
+
+These were the Madam's watch-dogs. They formed the police of the
+mansion. One slept while the other watched, and when any little
+difficulty occurred, they settled the matter _without noise_. Whether
+they knew all the secrets of the Madam's mansion, or only regarded it
+as one of the many haunts of vulgar infamy, which infest New York, does
+not yet appear.
+
+"Slung-Shot or Dirk, is now on the watch, in the basement room,
+next the cellar. Suppose I manage to force the bars of one of these
+windows,--I enter the basement room,--am confronted by one of the
+bullies. If I escape the dirk and the slung-shot, I may be handed over
+to the police, and sent to the Penitentiary on a charge of burglary. In
+the latter case, I will remain in the Tombs while the 25th of December
+passes, and thus escape all hope of participation in the settlement of
+the Van Huyden estate."
+
+It did not take long for Dermoyne to come to a determination.
+
+"True, after all, Barnhurst may be innocent, and Madam Resimer may have
+nothing to do with the affair. But I cannot remain any longer in this
+state of harrowing suspense. I will to work,--and at once."
+
+For a moment, he surveyed the street, and you may be sure, that his
+gaze was keen and anxious. No one was in sight; all was breathlessly
+still.
+
+Arthur drew from beneath his cloak an iron bar, with which he had
+provided himself. It was a square bar, about two inches in thickness,
+and as many feet in length. Next, fixing his gaze on the central window
+of the cellar, he ascertained that it was protected by three upright
+bars, separated from each other, by a space of six inches. These bars,
+scarcely more than an inch in thickness, were inserted into solid
+pieces of granite, which formed the top and base of the window-frame.
+Could he displace them from their sockets, by means of the bar which he
+carried?
+
+Again, he glances up and down the street. Not a soul in sight. He
+cast an upward glance, over the wall of the house,--still closed in
+every shutter, and sullen as a vault. He crouched beside the window
+and began to use his iron bar. It required all the force of his almost
+supernatural strength, to bend the central bar, but presently it was
+accomplished. It yielded and was forced from its sockets. Then, resting
+the iron bar which he grasped, against the wall on the left, he forced
+the second bar from its socket, and in a few minutes, in a similar
+manner, the third yielded to the force of his powerful sinews. The
+three fell into the cellar, and produced a crashing sound as they came
+into contact with some loose boards.
+
+Arthur did not hesitate a moment. Grasping the iron bar, and folding
+his cloak about his left arm, he crept through the window and descended
+into the cellar. All was thick darkness there, but a faint ray came
+from the door which opened into the basement room. Trampling over
+heaps of rubbish and loose piles of boards, Arthur made his way toward
+the door, and did not pause a single moment, but flinging his weight
+against its rough boards, he forced the staple which secured it, and
+burst it open with a crash.
+
+Then his features were fixed, his eyes flashed, he clutched the iron
+bar, and advancing one step into the basement room, stood ready for the
+worst.
+
+A candle, burning fast toward its socket, stood on a pine table, and
+flung its uncertain light over a small room, with cracked ceiling and
+rough walls, smeared with whitewash. A coal fire smouldered in a narrow
+grate.
+
+Slung-Shot was there,--not on the watch precisely,--but with his brawny
+arms resting on the table, and his head bent on his arms. He was fast
+asleep, and snoring vigorously. An empty brandy bottle which stood near
+the light, explained the cause of his sleep. Arthur glanced at the
+door, which opened on the stairway, and then--"Can I cross the room and
+open the door without waking this wretch?" was his thought.
+
+Slung-Shot, although by no means tall, was evidently a fellow of
+muscle, as his broad shoulders, (inclosed in a red flannel shirt) and
+his half-bared arms, served to show. His face was buried against the
+table, and Arthur could only see the back of his head; his hair closely
+cut, his long ears, and the greasy locks which draggled in front of
+each ear, were disclosed in the flickering light.
+
+Arthur, after a moment of hesitation, advanced,--the boards creaked
+under his tread,--still the ruffian did not move, but snored on, in a
+deep, sonorous bass. Arthur placed his hand on the latch of the door--
+
+The ruffian then moved. He raised his sleepy head, and Arthur beheld
+that brutal face, with its low forehead, broken nose and projecting
+under-jaw.
+
+"S-a-y," he cried, in that peculiar dialect, which, accompanied by an
+elongation of the lower-jaw, forms the _patois_ of a class of ruffians
+which infests the large cities, "what de thunder you 'bout?"
+
+Arthur grasped his iron bar, but stood motionless as stone, awaiting
+the assault of the ruffian.
+
+"Dat you Dirk?" continued Slung-Shot, rolling his eyes with a drunken
+stare; "why de thunder don't you let a feller sleep?--" and then came
+a round of oaths, uttered in that peculiar dialect, with the lower-jaw
+elongated and the head shaking briskly, from side to side. After which
+Slung-Shot sank to sleep again. He had mistaken Arthur for his comrade.
+
+Arthur lifted the latch, and in a moment was ascending the narrow
+staircase, which led to the hall on the first floor. At the head of
+the stair was a door, which he opened, and found himself on a carpeted
+floor, but in utter darkness.
+
+He could hear the beating of his heart, as pausing in the thick
+darkness, he bent his head and listened.
+
+Not a sound was heard throughout the mansion.
+
+What should be his next step? Enter the parlor on the first floor or
+ascend the stairway?
+
+"If Alice is concealed within these walls, she must be in one of the
+rooms up-stairs," he thought, and felt his way toward the staircase.
+Presently, his hand encountered the banisters, and he began cautiously
+to ascend to the second floor. Arrived at the head of the stairs, he
+stopped again and listened: not a sound was heard. Torn as he was by
+suspense, the cold sweat started upon his forehead: he folded his cloak
+carefully around his left arm, and grasping the iron bar with his right
+hand, he listened once more. The house was as soundless, as though a
+human voice or footstep had never been heard within its walls.
+
+At this moment Arthur was assailed by a terrible doubt--
+
+"What if it should be all a dream?--Barnhurst may be innocent, and as
+for Alice, she may be at this moment, a hundred miles away! Nay, this
+house may be the residence of a peaceful family, and have nothing to do
+with Madam Resimer or her crimes--"
+
+He was shaken by the doubt. Turning in the darkness, he began to
+descend the stairs--
+
+"Ha! The ruffian in the cellar confirms the story of the policeman who
+led me here, and who stated that this was the house of Madam Resimer;"
+this thought flashed over him and arrested his steps. "I'll not retreat
+until my suspicions are confirmed or put to rest."
+
+He turned again, and feeling his way up the stairs, and along the hall
+of the second floor, he began to ascend the second stairway. At the top
+he paused and listened--all was silent--not a whisper, nor the echo of
+a sound. Then stretching forth his hand he discovered that at a short
+distance beyond the stairway, another staircase led upward to the
+fourth floor. He also came to the conclusion, that from near the top of
+the stairway, even where he stood, a long and narrow passage led into
+some remote part of the mansion. For a moment he was at fault. Should
+he ascend the third stairway to the fourth floor, or should he traverse
+the long and narrow passage?
+
+"I will ascend to the fourth floor," he thought, when he was arrested
+by a sound.
+
+Low, very faint, ambiguous in its character, it seemed to proceed from
+the extremity of the passage, which branched from the head of the
+second staircase. Was it a faint cry for help--a moan of anguish--or
+the echo of voices, muffled by thick cowls?
+
+He had no chance to determine.
+
+For at the very moment when this sound reached his ears, it was drowned
+by another sound. The bell rang through the house, peal after peal, and
+died away in a dismal echo. There was a pause; it rang again, and this
+time more violently, as though an angry or frenzied hand grasped the
+bell-rope.--Another pause, and a light flashed in the face of Dermoyne.
+It came from the extremity of the passage at the head of the stairs,
+and was held in the hand of a woman, clad in a flowing wrapper, who
+advanced along the passage with rapid strides.--Standing at the head of
+the second stairway, Dermoyne surveyed her as she approached, and at
+a glance, as she came rapidly toward him, beheld her portly form and
+florid face.
+
+That face wore a look of unmistakable chagrin.
+
+"No time is to be lost--in a moment she will be here," thought
+Dermoyne--"can it be Madam Resimer?"
+
+He advanced and shrouded himself in the darkness of the third stairway.
+Near and nearer grew the sound of footsteps--
+
+"If she looks this way, as she descends the stairs, I am discovered,"
+and Dermoyne could distinctly hear the beating of his heart.
+
+The next moment the rustling of her dress was heard; her heavy strides
+resounded as she advanced; and then emerging from the passage, she
+reached the top of the second stairway. Her dress brushed Dermoyne, as
+he crouched on the first steps of the uppermost stairs; her face was
+visible in profile for a single instant.
+
+"Curse this light, how it flares, and curse that bell--will it never
+cease ringing? At such a moment too,--"
+
+And without once looking behind her, she hurriedly descended the second
+stairs. Dermoyne watched her tall form, with its loose gown, flowing
+all about her bulky outlines, until she turned the angle of the stairs
+and disappeared.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+"HERMAN, YOU WILL NOT DESERT ME?"
+
+
+"Now is my time," muttered Dermoyne to himself, and at once he entered
+the passage, which branched from the head of the stairs, and led to the
+eastern wing of the mansion. How his heart beat, how his blood bounded
+in his veins, as he drew near the open door at the extremity of the
+passage!
+
+On the threshold he paused--his form shrouded by the darkness, but the
+light from within the room shining upon his forehead--he paused and
+took a single glance at the scene which was disclosed to his vision.
+
+Never till his dying hour shall he forget that scene.
+
+A small apartment, with windows shut and sealed like the doors of a
+sepulcher.--On a small table, amid vials and surgical instruments,
+stands a light, whose rays tremble over the bed, which occupied the
+greater part of the room. Above the bed, from the darkly papered walls,
+smiles a picture of the Virgin Mary, while beneath, by the folds of the
+coverlet, you may trace the outlines of a human form.
+
+Beside the bed stands a slender man dressed in black, with a heavy
+pair of gold spectacles on his hooked nose. It is Corkins, the
+familiar spirit of the Madam. Corkins, whose slender frame, incased in
+black, reminds you of the raven, while his face with top-knot, gold
+spectacles, ferret-like eyes, and pointed beard, reminds you of the owl.
+
+"Bad!" mutters Corkins, "bad!" and he gazes upon the occupant of the
+bed, knotting his fingers together like a man who is exceedingly
+perplexed.
+
+The bed and its occupant? Ask us not to picture the full horror of the
+sight which Arthur saw (from his place of concealment), as Corkins
+gently drew the coverlet aside.
+
+"Alice!" he did not pronounce the word with his lips, but his heart
+uttered it--it was echoed in the depths of his soul.
+
+He saw the pale face, and the sunny hair, which fell in a flood upon
+her bared shoulders. He saw the arms outspread, with the fingers
+trembling and working as with the impulse of a spasm. He saw the eyes
+which opened with a dead stare, and fixed vaguely upon the ceiling, had
+no look of life in their leaden glance. He saw the lips, which were
+colorless and almost covered with white foam. And as the sufferer moved
+her head, and flung it back upon the pillow, he saw her throat--no
+longer white and beautiful--but with swollen veins, writhing with
+torture, and starting from the discolored skin.
+
+Never, never until his last hour can Arthur forget that sight.
+
+And poor Alice, writhing thus between life and death, talked to herself
+in a voice husky and faint, and said certain words that made Arthur's
+blood gather in a flood about his heart:
+
+"Herman, you will not desert me!" she said, and then while the foam was
+on her lips, she babbled of her father and home--writhing all the while
+in every nerve and vein.
+
+Arthur entered the room. Corkins turned and beheld him, and uttered a
+cry of fright. For at that moment Arthur's face was not a pleasant face
+for any man to look upon, much less Corkins. And the iron bar which
+Arthur held in his clenched hand, taken into connection with the look
+on his face, reminded Corkins of stories which he had read--stories
+which told of living men, bruised suddenly to death by such a hand and
+such an iron bar. Corkins, therefore, uttered a cry of fright, and in
+his terror shook his gold spectacles from his parrot nose.
+
+"Down," said Arthur, in a low voice, "on your knees,"--he pointed to a
+nook of the room, between the foot of the bed and the wall. "Stay there
+with your face to the wall."
+
+Corkins obeyed. Trembling to the corner, he sank on his knees, and
+turned his face away from the door and turned toward the wall, there
+was such a persuasive eloquence in Arthur's look.
+
+Then Arthur, still clutching the iron bar, drew near the head of the
+bed, and gazed upon Alice.
+
+Stretching forth her arms, and opening and closing her little hands;
+flinging back her head, her eyes fixed upon the same point of the
+ceiling, no matter how she writhed--babbling with foaming lips about
+her father and her home,--it was one of the saddest sights that ever
+man beheld.
+
+Arthur could not stand it. He turned his face away, and there was a
+choking sensation in his throat, and a painful heaving of his chest.
+His eyeballs were hot and tearless.--He would have given his life to
+shed a single tear.
+
+But that moment of intolerable anguish was interrupted by the sound of
+footsteps resounding from the lower part of the mansion. Madam Resimer
+was returning to the room of Alice.
+
+Arthur at once shrank into the corner where Corkins knelt, and touched
+the creature with his foot by way of warning. Then placing himself
+against the wall in such a manner that he could not be seen until the
+Madam entered the room, he awaited her return.
+
+Her footsteps are on the stairs, and presently they are heard in the
+passage. Arthur, standing bolt upright against the wall, with the
+trembling Corkins at his feet, heard the rustling of her dress, as
+she came brushing along, with her heavy stride. Then he heard her
+voice--she was speaking to some one who accompanied her.
+
+"There are two," he muttered, and bent his head to listen. He could
+distinguish her words:
+
+"What a foolish fancy!" this was the voice of the Madam, "to think that
+any one could gain admittance to my house against my will. Why, my
+dear, the idea makes me laugh."
+
+"Yes, but he's such a desperate ruffian," answered a second voice.
+
+It was the voice of Rev. Herman Barnhurst.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+HERMAN, ARTHUR, ALICE.
+
+
+"Oh! my God, I thank thee," muttered Arthur, and clutched the iron bar
+and crouched closer to the wall.
+
+And ere a moment passed, the Madam entered the room, followed by
+Barnhurst. She held the light, and he advanced toward the bed.
+
+"It looks rather bad," cried Barnhurst, as he caught sight of the face
+of Alice.
+
+"Why, where has Corkins gone?" cried the Madam, and turning abruptly
+she sought for Corkins, and uttered a shriek. At the same instant
+Barnhurst raised his eyes from the face of Alice, and fell back against
+the wall, as though a bullet had pierced his temple.
+
+They had at the same instant discovered Dermoyne, who, motionless as
+stone, stood against the wall, beside the door, his arms folded, and
+his head sunk on his breast. Thus, with his head drooped on his breast,
+he raised his eyes and silently surveyed them both, and with the same
+glance.
+
+Not a word was spoken. The Madam, unable to support herself, sank on
+the foot of the bed, and Barnhurst, staggered to his feet again, looked
+around the room with a visage stamped with guilt and terror.
+
+Arthur quietly advanced a step, and closed the door of the room. Then
+he locked it and put the key in his pocket.
+
+"What do you mean?" cried the Madam the color rushing into her face.
+
+"No noise," whispered Arthur, "unless indeed,"--and he smiled in a
+way which she understood,--"unless, indeed, you mean to alarm the
+neighborhood, and bring the police into the room. Would you like to
+have the police examine your house?"
+
+The Madam bit her red lip, but did not answer. Arthur passed her, and
+approached the Rev. Herman Barnhurst.
+
+"Nay, don't be afraid; I will not hurt you," he whispered, as the
+clergyman stretched forth his hands and retreated toward the wall.
+"Come, take courage, man,--look there!"
+
+He pointed to the face of Alice.
+
+Herman, ashy pale, and shaking in every limb, followed the movement of
+Arthur's hand, but did not utter a word.
+
+"A 'man of your cloth' to be 'suspected'--eh, my friend?" and Arthur,
+laughed. "A minister of THE Church, to be suspected of seduction and of
+murder? Is it not a lying tongue that dare charge you, Reverend sir,
+with such crimes?"
+
+Here, poor Alice, writhing in the bed, spoke a faint word about father,
+and home.
+
+Barnhurst, cringing against the wall, his smooth complexion changed to
+a livid paleness, muttered an incoherent word about "reparation."
+
+"Oh, you _shall_ make reparation,--never fear; you _shall_ make
+reparation," whispered Dermoyne, his eyes fairly blazing with light.
+"And you visited her father's house as a minister of God. She heard you
+preach in the church, and you talked to her in her home. What words you
+said, I know not; but some forty-eight hours ago you took her from her
+home; but a few hours have passed since then. The father lies a mangled
+corpse somewhere between this house and Philadelphia; and Alice, the
+daughter, is before you. Are you not proud of your work, my reverend
+friend?"
+
+Herman's eye glanced from the ominous face of Dermoyne, and then to the
+iron bar which he held in his clenched hand,--
+
+"You will not--kill--me?" he gasped.
+
+Arthur was silent. The veins upon his forehead were swollen; his teeth
+were locked; his eyes, deep sunken under his down-drawn brows, emitted
+a steady and sinister light. He was _thinking_.
+
+"Kill you?" he said, in a measured voice, which seemed torn, word
+by word, through his clenched teeth, from his heart. "Oh, if I
+could believe your creed--that eternal vengeance is the only future
+punishment for earthly crimes--why, I would kill you, before you could
+utter another word. Do you believe that creed? No--wretch! you do not.
+You have but preached it as a part of that machinery which manufactures
+your salary. But now, wretch! as you stand by the death-bed of your
+victim, with the face of her avenger before you, now search your heart,
+and answer me--Do you not begin to feel that there is a GOD?"
+
+It was pitiful to see the poor wretch cringe against the wall,
+supporting himself with his hands, which he placed behind his back,
+while his head slowly sunk, and his eyes were riveted to the face of
+Dermoyne.
+
+"You will not kill me," he faltered; and, with his left hand, tugged at
+his white cravat, for there was a choking sensation at his throat.
+
+As for the Madam, who stood at the back of Dermoyne, she began to
+recover some portion of her self-possession, as a hope flashed upon her
+mind: "The handle of the bell is behind Barnhurst," she muttered to
+himself; "if he would only touch it, it would resound in the basement,
+and call Slung-Shot to our aid."
+
+And with flashing eyes, the Madam gazed over Dermoyne's shoulder,
+watching every movement of the clergyman, and hoping that even in his
+fright, he might touch the handle of the bell. That bell communicated
+with the basement room; one movement of the handle, and Slung-Shot
+would be summoned to the scene.
+
+However, as Barnhurst cringed against the wall, his hands strayed all
+around the handle of the bell, but did not touch it.
+
+At this crisis, however, the Madam forming suddenly a bold resolution,
+strode across the floor and placed her bulky form between Dermoyne and
+the clergyman.
+
+"What do _you_ want _here_, any how?" she said, tossing her head and
+placing her arms a-kimbo. "You are neither the brother nor the husband
+of this girl. Supposin' you was, what have you to complain of? Haven't
+I treated her like my own child? Yes, I've been a mother to her--and
+_that is_ a fact."
+
+Dermoyne, for a moment, paused to admire the cool impudence which
+stamped the florid visage of the madam. Her chin projected, her nose
+upturned, and her nether lip protruded, she stood there in her flowing
+wrapper, with a hand on each side of her waist.
+
+"Look there," he said quietly, and pointed to the bed, where the poor
+girl was stretched in her agony; her hands quivering and her lips
+white with foam: "When that poor child entered your house, she was in
+the enjoyment of good health. What is she now? Shall I go forth from
+this place and bring a physician to testify as to the nature of your
+_motherly_ treatment?"
+
+The Madam retreated from the gaze of the young man, and felt the force
+of his words.
+
+Too well she knew what verdict a physician would pass upon her
+treatment of the young girl.
+
+"The bell-handle is behind you," she whispered, as she passed the
+cringing Barnhurst. He did not seem to heed her; but the moment that
+she passed him and resumed her former place, he fixed his stupefied
+gaze once more upon the visage of Dermoyne.
+
+As for Dermoyne, for a moment he stood buried in profound thought. The
+clergyman trembled closer to the wall as he remarked the livid paleness
+of Arthur's face,--the peculiar light in Arthur's eyes.
+
+Dermoyne, after a moment, advanced and extended his hand--"Come,"
+he said, and sought to grasp Barnhurst's hands. But, shuddering and
+half dead with fright, Herman _crouched_ away from the extended
+hand,--crouched and cringed away as though he would bury himself in the
+very wall.
+
+"Come," again repeated Dermoyne, his voice changed and husky. "Come!"
+He grasped the hand of the clergyman and dragged him to the bedside.
+"Oh, look upon that sight!" he groaned as the tortured girl writhed
+before them--"Look upon that sight, and tell me, what fiend of hell
+ever, even in thought, planned a deed like this?"
+
+"Don't kill me, don't, don't!" faltered Herman.
+
+"This is a strange meeting," continued Dermoyne, with a look that made
+Herman's blood run cold; "here we are together, you and I and Alice!
+I that loved her better than life, and would have been glad to have
+called her by the sacred name of wife. You, that without loving her or
+caring for her, save as the instrument of your brutal appetite, have
+made her what she is,--have made her what she is, and brought her here
+to die in a dark corner, something worse than the death of a dog. And
+Alice, poor Alice, who saw you first in the pulpit, and then listened
+to you and yielded to you in the home,--her father's home,--Alice lies
+before you now. Hark!"
+
+The poor girl stretched forth her hands, and with the foam still white
+upon her livid lips, she said, in her wandering way--
+
+"Oh! Herman, dear Herman! it was not _father_ that was hurt, was it?
+Oh! are you sure, are you sure?" And then came wandering words about
+father, Herman, home, and--her lost condition. There was something too,
+about returning to father and asking his forgiveness when the _danger_
+was over.
+
+"And _you_ desire her death." In his agony, as he uttered these words,
+Arthur clutched Herman with a gripe that forced a groan from his lips.
+"You who have brought her to _this_,--" he pointed to the bed,--"while
+I desire her to live; I, that by her death will become the sole
+inheritor of her father's fortune."
+
+This was a revelation that astounded Herman, half dead as he was, with
+terror.
+
+"The sole inheritor of her father's fortune!" he echoed.
+
+At this crisis, the Madam darted forward. Arthur saw her hand extended
+toward the handle of the bell.
+
+"Oh! ring by all means," he exclaimed, "ring, my dear Madam; summon
+your bullies; we will have as much noise as possible,--perchance, a
+fight! And then the police will come and examine the little mysteries
+of your mansion. Will you not ring?"
+
+The Madam's hand dropped to her side, and she slunk back to her former
+position, her florid face impressed with an expression which was not,
+altogether, one of serenity or joy.
+
+"You wondered, to-night, why Mr. Burney permitted the poor shoemaker
+to visit his house. Let me enlighten you a little. Not many years
+ago, an unknown mechanic called upon the rich merchant, in his
+library, and proved to the merchant's satisfaction, that he,--the poor
+mechanic,--had, in his possession, certain papers which established
+the fact that the immense wealth of Mr. Burney had been obtained by a
+gross fraud; a fraud which, in a court of law, would disclose itself
+in the two-fold shape of _perjury_ and _forgery_. The father of the
+mechanic was the victim; Burney, the criminal; the victim had died poor
+and broken-hearted; but in the hands of the criminal, the property so
+illy-gotten, had swelled into an immense fortune. It was the son of
+the victim who, having lived through a friendless orphanage, now came
+to Mr. Burney and proved that at any moment he might involve the rich
+merchant in disgrace and ruin."
+
+"Impossible!" ejaculated Barnhurst.
+
+"The merchant made large offers to the mechanic to obtain his
+silence,--believing in the true mercantile way, that every man has
+his price, he offered a good round sum, and doubled it the next
+moment,--but in vain. The image of his broken-hearted father was before
+the mechanic,--he could not banish it,--he had but one purpose, and
+that was, to bring the rich man to utter ruin. This purpose was strong
+in his heart, when scorning all the offers of the merchant, he rose
+from his seat and moved toward the door. But at the door his purpose
+was changed. There he was confronted by the face of a happy, sinless
+girl,--a girl with all the beauty of a happy, sinless heart, written
+upon her young face. At the sight, the mechanic relented. Maddened by
+the thirst for a full and bitter revenge, he could destroy the father,
+but he had not the heart to destroy the father of that sinless girl.
+For,--do you hear me,--it was Alice,--it was Alice,--Alice."
+
+The long-restrained agony burst forth at last. With her name upon his
+lips, he paused,--he buried his face in his hands.
+
+"Alice, Alice, who lies before you now!" He raised his face again; it
+was distorted by agony; it was bathed in tears.
+
+The clergyman fell on his knees.
+
+"Don't harm me," he faltered, "I will make reparation."
+
+"Up! up! don't kneel to me," shrieked Dermoyne, and he dragged the
+miserable culprit to his feet. "There's no manner of kneeling or
+praying between heaven and hell, that can help you, if that poor
+girl dies. I spared her father for her sake, (and to make my silence
+perpetual, he made a will, in which he names me as his sole heir, in
+case of his daughter's death); I spared her father for her sake, and
+can you think that I will spare you,--you who have brought her to a
+shame and death like this?"
+
+He pointed to the bed, and once more the poor girl, writhing in pain,
+uttered, in a low, pleading voice, "Herman, Herman, do not, oh! do not
+desert me!"
+
+Dermoyne, at a rapid glance, surveyed the culprit cringing against
+the wall,--the florid Madam, who stood apart, her face manifesting
+undeniable chagrin,--and then his gaze rested upon Corkins, who,
+kneeling in the corner, seemed to have been suddenly stricken dumb. And
+as he took that rapid glance, his eyes flashed, his face grew paler,
+his bosom heaved, and a world of thought rushed through his brain; and,
+in a moment, he had decided upon his course.
+
+He drew near to the Madam: she could not meet the look which he fixed
+upon her face.
+
+"To-morrow morning, at ten o'clock, I will return to this house," he
+said, in a low voice; "I hold you responsible for the life of this
+poor girl. Nay, do not speak; not a word from your accursed lips.
+Remember!--he drew a step nearer,--to-morrow morning, at ten o'clock,
+and--I hold you responsible for the life of Alice Burney."
+
+The Madam quailed before his glance; for once, her florid face grew
+pale. "But how will you obtain entrance into my house?" she thought;
+and a faint smile crossed her countenance.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+THE RED BOOK.
+
+
+Dermoyne flung his cloak over his arm, drew his cap over his forehead,
+and grasped the iron bar with his right hand.
+
+"Come with me," he said, in a low voice, to Barnhurst. He drew the key
+from his pocket, and led the way to the door. As though fascinated by
+his look, Herman followed him,--followed him trembling and with terror
+stamped on every line of his face.
+
+"At ten o'clock, to-morrow morning, remember!" said Dermoyne, turning
+his face over his shoulder. He turned the key in the lock, and stood
+upon the threshold. "Come with me," he said, quietly, to Barnhurst.
+"Nay, take the light and walk before me."
+
+Herman, with a quivering hand, seized a lighted lamp and led the way
+from the room, along the passage. He dared not turn his head. He
+heard Dermoyne's footsteps at his back, and shook with fright. "Does
+he intend to murder me?" and then he thought of the iron bar; of the
+strong hand of Dermoyne; and of his own defenseless head.
+
+"Herman, don't, don't desert me," muttered Alice, in her delirium, as
+they crossed the threshold.
+
+Dermoyne turned and saw the fixed eyes, the sunny hair, the lips white
+with foam; saw the writhing form and the hands clasped madly over the
+half-bared bosom; and then he looked no more.
+
+Along the passage, Herman led the way and down the stairs, Dermoyne
+following silently at his heels. Thus they descended to the second
+floor.
+
+"The Madam has a room where she keeps her papers and arranges her most
+important affairs. Conduct me there."
+
+And Herman, scarce knowing what he did, led the way to the small room
+in the rear of the second floor,--the small room in which we first
+beheld the Madam. He entered, followed by Dermoyne, who carefully
+closed the door, and then, at a glance, surveyed the place. It looked
+the same as when we first beheld the Madam. The shaded lamp stood on
+the desk, describing a brief circle of light around it, while the rest
+of the place was vailed in twilight. On the desk was the seal and the
+pearl-handled pen, and beside it, was the capacious arm-chair.
+
+"Come here," said Arthur, still in that low voice, but with the face
+unnaturally pale, and the eyes flashing with steady and ominous light;
+and he led the way to the desk. Barnhurst obeyed him without a word.
+
+"To-morrow, at ten o'clock, we will return to this mansion," said
+Dermoyne, fixing his eyes upon the affrighted visage of Barnhurst. "We
+will return together, and if Alice yet lives, we will go away together;
+but," he laid his right hand upon the forehead of the wretch,--or
+rather placed his thumb upon the right temple, and his fingers on the
+left,--"but, if Alice is dead, I will kill you at her bedside."
+
+There was a determination in his tone,--in his look,--nay, in the very
+pressure of the hand which touched Barnhurst's forehead; which gave a
+force to his brief words, that no pen can depict.
+
+Barnhurst fell on his knees, and his head sank on his breast. He had no
+power to frame a word. He appeared conscious that he was in the hands
+of his fate.
+
+"Get up, get up, _my friend_!" and Arthur raised him from his knees and
+placed him in a chair. (Now well we know that it would have been more
+in accordance with the rules provided for novel writers, for Arthur
+to have said, "Arise! villain!" but as he simply said, "Get up, _my
+friend_!" applying a singular emphasis to the italicized words: we feel
+bound to record his words just as he spoke them).
+
+"I have a few words to say to you," said Arthur; "there's no use of
+your shuddering when I speak to you, and of crying when I touch you.
+You must listen to me and listen with all your senses about you. Why,
+you were courageous enough to blaspheme God, when you used his religion
+as the instrument of that poor girl's ruin: don't be afraid of me."
+
+"When you leave this place, _my friend_, I will go with you. I will
+put no restraint upon your actions; you can go where you please,
+but wherever you go, I will go with you. I will not lose sight of
+you, until the life or death of Alice Burney is assured. Yes, you
+can go where you please, talk with whom you please, sleep, eat,
+drink where it suits you, but everywhere _I will go with you_. We
+will be together, side by side, until the life or the death of Alice
+is certain,--together, always together, like twin souls,--do you
+understand, my friend? Until we are assured of the fate of Alice, I
+will be your _shadow_? Do you comprehend?"
+
+Herman _did_ comprehend. The full force of Arthur's determination
+crowded upon him, impressing every fiber of his soul.
+
+"No,--no,--this cannot be," he faltered,--"If you must wreak your
+vengeance on me, kill me at once. But, to be thus accompanied, I will
+not consent--"
+
+"Kill you?" and there was a sad smile on Dermoyne's face; "do you
+suppose that the mere act of physical death can atone for the moral and
+physical death of poor Alice? You commit a wrong, that is murder in a
+sense, that the basest physical murder can never equal; and you think
+the sacrifice of your life will atone for that wrong? Faugh! If Alice
+dies, I will kill you,--be assured of that--I will crush the miserable
+life which now beats within your brain,--but, first, I will make you
+die a thousand deaths--I will kill you in soul as well as in body--for
+every throb which you have made her suffer, you shall render an exact,
+a fearful account--yes, before I kill your miserable body, I will kill
+you in reputation, in all that makes life dear, in everything that you
+hold sacred, or that those with whom you are connected by all or any
+ties, hold sacred. To do this, I must _know all about you_, and to know
+all about you, I must go with you and be your shadow."
+
+"Oh, this is infernal!" groaned Barnhurst, dropping his hands
+helplessly on his knees, while his head sank back against the chair,
+"Have you no mercy?"
+
+"A preacher appeared as a demi-god, to the eyes of a sinless
+girl,--clad in the light of religion, he appeared to her as something
+more than mortal--aware of this fact, he passed from the pulpit where
+she heard him preach to her father's home, and there dishonored her.
+When her dishonor was complete, and a second life throbbed within
+her, so far from thinking of hiding her shame under the mantle of an
+honorable marriage, he calmly plotted the murder of his victim and her
+unborn child. And this preacher now crouches before his executioner,
+and falters, 'Have you no mercy?'"
+
+"But I could not marry her," groaned Barnhurst, "it was impossible!
+impossible!"
+
+"Why?"
+
+Barnhurst buried his face in his hands, but did not answer.
+
+"You killed her to save your _reputation_," whispered Arthur, "and now
+I have your life and reputation in my grasp. In the name of Alice, I
+will use my power. Come! Let us be going. I am ready to attend you."
+
+He took the hat and cloak of the clergyman, from a chair, (where
+Barnhurst had left them before he ascended to the chamber of Alice) and
+exclaimed with a low bow--
+
+"Your hat and cloak, sir. I am ready."
+
+Barnhurst rose, trembling and livid,--he placed the hat upon his
+sleeked hair, and wound the cloak about his angular form. For a moment
+his coward nature seemed stirred, by the extremity of his despair, into
+something like courage. His eyes (the dark pupils of which you will
+remember covered each eyeball) flashed madly from his _blonde_ visage,
+and he gazed from side to side, as if in search of some deadly weapon.
+At that moment he was prepared for combat and for murder.
+
+Dermoyne caught his eye: never lunatic cowered at the sight of his
+keeper, as Barnhurst before Dermoyne.
+
+"It won't do. You haven't the 'pluck,'" sneered Arthur,--"if it was a
+weak girl, there's no knowing what you might do; but as it is a man and
+an--_executioner_."
+
+"I am ready," was all that Barnhurst could reply.
+
+"One moment, dear friend, and I'll be with you," as he spoke, Dermoyne
+advanced toward the Madam's Desk. "_I must have a_ PLEDGE _before I
+go_."
+
+Before the preacher had time to analyze the meaning of these words,
+Dermoyne, with one blow of the iron bar, had forced the lock of the
+Madam's desk. He raised the lid and the light fell upon packages of
+letters, neatly folded, and upon a large book, square in shape and
+bound in red morocco.
+
+"The red book!" the words were forced from Barnhurst's lips, as he saw
+Arthur raise the volume to the light and rapidly examine its contents.
+THE RED BOOK! Well he knew the character of that singular volume!
+
+"Yes, this will do," said Arthur, as he placed the book under his
+cloak. "I wanted a pledge,--that is to say, a _sure hold_ upon the
+Madam and her friends. And I have one!"
+
+He took the clergyman by the arm and they went forth together from the
+private chamber,--the holy place--of the Madam. Went forth together,
+and descending the stairs, passed in the darkness along the hall. The
+key was in the lock of the front door. Arthur turned it, and in a
+moment, they passed together over the threshold of that mansion of
+crime, and stood in the light of the wintery stars.
+
+"Who," whispered Arthur, as side by side, and arm in arm, they went
+down the dark street, "who to see us walk so lovingly together, would
+imagine the real nature of those relations which bind us together?"
+
+He felt Barnhurst shudder as he held him to his side--
+
+"The red book!" ejaculated the clergyman, with accent hard to define,
+whether of fear, or wonder, or of horror.
+
+And by the light of the midnight stars, they went down the dark street
+together.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+"WHAT SHALL WE DO WITH HER?"
+
+
+Scarcely had the echo of the front door, ceased to resound through
+the mansion, when the Madam entered the holy place from which Arthur
+and Herman had just departed. Her step was vigorous and firm, as she
+crossed the threshold; her face flashed with mingled rage and triumph.
+
+"He will return to-morrow at ten o'clock!" she cried, and burst into a
+fit of laughter, which shook her voluminous bust,--"there's two ways
+of tellin' that story, my duck." (The Madam, as in all her vivacious
+moments, grew metaphorical.) "Catch a weasel asleep! Fool who with your
+tin 'fip!' I guess I haven't been about in the world all this while, to
+be out-generaled by a snip of a boy like that!"
+
+Louder laughed the Madam, until her bust shook again--and in the midst
+of her calm enjoyment she saw--the desk and the broken lock. Her
+laughter stopped abruptly. She darted forward, like a tigress rushing
+on her prey. She seized the lamp and raised the lid, and saw the
+contents of the desk,--packages of letters, mysterious instruments and
+singular vials, all,--all,--save the red book.
+
+The Madam could not believe her eyes. Rapidly she searched the desk,
+displacing its contents and researching every nook and corner, but her
+efforts were fruitless. There were packages of letters, mysterious
+vials, and instruments as mysterious, but,--the red book was not there.
+
+For the first time in her life, the Madam experienced a sensation of
+fear,--unmingled fear,--and for the first time saw ruin open like
+a chasm at her very feet. She grew pale, sank helplessly in her
+arm-chair, and sat there like a statue,--rather like an image of
+imperfectly finished wax-work,--her visage blank as a sheet of paper.
+
+"Gone,--gone," the words escaped from her lips, "ruined, undone!"
+
+This state of "unmasterly inactivity" continued, however, but for a
+few moments. All at once she bounded from her chair, and a blasphemous
+oath escaped--more strictly speaking--shot from her lips. She crossed
+the floor, with a heavy stride, gave the bell-rope a violent pull, and
+then, hurrying to the door screamed "Corkins! Corkins!" with all her
+might.
+
+"Why don't they come! Fools, asses!" and again, she attacked the
+bell-rope, and again, hurried to the door,--"Corkins, Corkins, I say!
+Halloo!"
+
+In a few moments Corkins appeared, his spectacles awry and his
+right-hand laid affectionately upon his "goatee."
+
+"The matter?"
+
+"Don't stand there starin' at me like a stuck-pig!" was the elegant
+reply of the Madam,--"down into the cellar,--quick,--quick! Tell Slung
+to come here. Not a word. Go I say!"
+
+She pushed Corkins out of the room. Then pacing up and down the small
+apartment, she awaited his return with an anxiety and suspense, very
+much like madness, uttering blasphemous oaths at every step she took.
+
+Footsteps were heard, and at length, Corkins, dressed in sober black,
+appeared once more, leading Slung-Shot by the hand. The ruffian
+stumbled into the room, his brutal visage, low forehead, broken nose
+and elongated jaw, bearing traces of a recent debauch. Folding his
+brawny arms over his red flannel shirt, he gazed sleepily at the Madam,
+politely remarking at the same time--
+
+"What de thunder's de muss,--s-a-y?"
+
+"Are you sober?" and the Madam gave Slung a violent shake; "are you
+awake?"
+
+"Old woman," responded Slung, "you better purceed to bisness, and give
+us none o' yer jaw. What de yer w-a-n-t? s-a-y!"
+
+The Madam seized him by the arm.
+
+"Two men have just left this house. One wears a cap,--the other, a hat.
+The one with the cap and cloak is the shortest of the two; and the one
+with a cap carries under his cloak a book, bound in red morocco, which
+he has just stolen from yonder desk. D'ye hear? I want you to track him
+and get back that book at any price; even if you have to--"
+
+"Fech him up wid dis?" and the ruffian drew a "slung-shot" from the
+sleeve of his right arm.
+
+"Yes, yes; anyhow, or by any means," continued the Madam; "only bring
+back the book before morning, and a hundred dollars are yours. D'ye
+hear?"
+
+"A shortish chap with a cap an' cloak," exclaimed Slung; "there's a
+good many shortish chaps with caps in this 'ere town, old woman."
+
+"I have it! I have it!" cried the Madam; and then she conveyed her
+instructions to Slung in a slow and measured voice. "Don't you think
+you'd know him now?" she exclaimed, when her instructions were complete.
+
+"Could pick 'im out among a thousand." And the ruffian closed one eye,
+and increased the boundless ugliness of his face, by an indescribable
+grimace.
+
+"Go then,--no time's to be lost,--a hundred dollars, you mind;" and she
+urged him to the door. He clutched the slung-shot and disappeared.
+
+Corkins approached and looked the Madam in the face.
+
+"The red book gone?" he asked, every line of his visage displaying
+astonishment and terror.
+
+"Gone," echoed the Madam, "to be sure it is. Our only hope is in
+that ruffian. One well-planted blow with a slung-shot, will kill the
+strongest man."
+
+"The red book gone!" Corkins fairly trembled with affright. Staggering
+like a drunken man, he managed to deposit himself in a chair. He took
+the gold spectacles from his nose, and wiped them, in an absent way.
+"Bad," he muttered. Then passing his hand from his "goatee" to his
+top-knot, and from top-knot to "goatee," again he muttered, "The red
+book gone! what will become of us?"
+
+"If it is not recovered before morning, we are done for," cried the
+Madam; "that's all. But this is no time for foolin'? Come, sir! stir
+your stumps!"
+
+She took the light and led the way up-stairs, followed by Corkins, who
+shook in every fiber; murmuring, at every step, "Gone! gone! The red
+book gone!"
+
+Entering the passage which led to the chamber of Alice, the Madam
+paused at the door of that chamber, and pointed to the door of the
+closet which (you will remember) was buried under the stairway that led
+to the fourth story.
+
+A faint moan was heard; it came from the chamber of Alice. The Madam
+did not heed that moan, but opening the closet door, crossed its
+threshold, followed by Corkins. The light disclosed the details of that
+small and gloomy place; and glittered brightly upon a mahogany chest or
+box which rested on the floor. A mahogany box, with surface polished
+like a mirror, and a shape that told at sight of death and the grave.
+It was a coffin; and the coffin of that nameless girl who had been
+removed from the bed, in the adjoining chamber, in order to make room
+for Alice.
+
+"What,--what--is--to--be--done--with--her?" said Corkins, as he touched
+the coffin with his foot.
+
+Here, for one moment, while Corkins and the Madam stand beside the
+coffin, in the lonely closet of the accursed mansion; here, for one
+moment, turn your gaze away. Look far through the night, and let your
+gaze rest upon the fireside light of yonder New England home. It is a
+quiet fireside, in the city of Hartford; and a father and a mother are
+sitting there, bewailing the singular absence of their only daughter,
+a beautiful girl, the hope and the light of their home; she strangely
+disappeared a week ago, and since then, they have heard no signs nor
+tidings of her fate.
+
+And now they are sitting by their desolate fireside; the father choking
+down his agony in silent prayer; the mother giving free vent to her
+anguish in a flood of tears. And the eyes of father and mother turn
+to the daughter's place by the fireside; it is vacant, and forever.
+For while they bewail her absence,--while they hope for her return
+by morning light,--their daughter rests in the coffin, here, at the
+feet of Madam Resimer. Weep, fond mother; choke down your agony with
+silent prayer, brave father: but tears nor prayers can never bring your
+daughter back again. To-night, she rests in the coffin, at the feet
+of Madam Resimer; to-morrow night--Look yonder! A learned doctor is
+lecturing for the instruction of his students, and his "subject" lies
+on the table before him. That "subject," (Oh! do you see it, father and
+mother of the distant New England home,) that "subject" is your only
+daughter.
+
+Verily, the tragedies of actual, every-day life, are more improbable
+than the maddest creations of romance.
+
+"What shall we do with _her_?" again exclaimed Corkins, touching the
+coffin with his foot.
+
+The Madam was troubled. "The red book!" she muttered, in an absent way,
+"the red book!" Her mind was evidently wandering. "It must be regained
+at any price."
+
+"But--this--body," interrupted Corkins, tapping the coffin with his
+foot.
+
+"Oh! _this_!" exclaimed the Madam, and a pleasant smile stole over her
+face.
+
+"Oh! as to _this_! we can easily dispose of it. I tell you, Corkins, we
+will--"
+
+But she did not tell Corkins. For, from the adjoining room, came a cry,
+so ringing with the emphasis of mortal agony, that even the Madam was
+struck with terror, as she heard it.
+
+Without a word, she led Corkins into the chamber of Alice.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+A BRIEF EPISODE.
+
+
+Away from these scenes of darkness and of crime, let us, for a moment,
+turn aside and dwell, for a little while, on the fireside ray of a
+quiet home. Yes, leaving Arthur and Herman to pursue their way, let us
+indulge in a quiet episode:
+
+It is a neat two-storied dwelling, standing apart from the street,
+somewhere in the upper region of the Empire City. Through the drawn
+window-curtains, a softened light trembles forth upon the darkness.
+Gaze through the curtains, and behold the scene which is disclosed by
+the mingled light of the open fire, and of the lamp whose beams are
+softened by a clouded shade.
+
+A young mother sitting beside a cradle, with her baby on her
+breast, and a flaxen-haired boy, some three years old, crouching on
+the stool at her feet. A very beautiful sight,--save in the eyes
+of old bachelors, for whom this work is not written, and who are
+affectionately requested to skip this chapter,--a very beautiful
+sight, save in the eyes of that class of worn-out profligates, who
+never having had a mother or sister, and having spent their lives in
+degrading the holiest impulse of our nature, into a bestial appetite,
+come, at last, to look upon woman as a mere animal; come, at last, to
+sneer with their colorless lips and lack-luster eyes, at the very idea
+of a holy chastity, as embodied in the form of a pure woman. Of all the
+miserable devils, who crawl upon this earth, the most miserable is that
+lower devil, whose heart is foul with pollution at the very mention of
+woman. Take my word for it, (and if you look about the world, you'll
+find it so,) the man who has not, somewhere about his heart, a high, a
+holy ideal of woman,--an ideal hallowing every part of her being, as
+mother, sister, wife,--is a vile sort of man, anyhow you choose to look
+at him; a very vile man, rotten at the heart, and diffusing moral death
+wherever he goes. Avoid such a man;--not as you would the devil, for
+the devil is a king to him,--but as you would avoid the last extreme of
+depravity, loathsome, not only for its wretchedness, but for its utter
+baseness. It's a good rule to go by,--never trust that man who has a
+low idea of woman,--trust him not with purse, with confidence, in the
+street or over your threshold,--trust him not: his influence is poison;
+and the atmosphere which he carries with him, is that of hell.
+
+It is a quiet room, neatly furnished; a lamp, with a clouded shade,
+stands on the table; a piano stands in one corner; the portrait of
+the absent father hangs on the wall; a wood fire burns briskly on the
+hearth. A very quiet room, full of the atmosphere of home.
+
+The mother is one of those women whose short stature, round development
+of form and limb, clear complexion and abounding joyousness of look,
+seem more lovable in the eyes of a certain portion of the masculine
+race, than all the stately beauties in the world. Certainly, she was
+a pretty woman. Her eyes of clear, deep blue, her lips of cherry red,
+harmonized with the hue of her face, her neck and shoulders,--a hue
+resembling alabaster, slightly reddened by a glimpse of sunshine. Her
+hair rich and flowing, was neatly disposed about the round outlines of
+her young face. And in color,----ah, here's the trouble. I see the curl
+of your lip and the laugh in your eyes. And in color, her hair was not
+black, nor golden, nor brown, nor even auburn. Her hair was red. You
+may laugh if it suits you, but her red-hair became her; and this woman
+with the red-hair, was one of the prettiest, one of the most lovable
+women in the world. (Why is it that a certain class of authors, very
+poverty stricken in the way of ideas, always introduce a red-haired
+woman in the character of a vixen,--always expect you to laugh at the
+very mention of red-hair--in fact, invest the capital of what little
+wit they have, in lamentably funny allusions to red-heads, red-hair,
+and so forth? Or if they fall in love with a sweet woman, with bright
+red-hair, why do these authors, when they make sonnets to the object
+of their choice, persist in calling red-hair by the ambiguous name of
+_auburn_?)
+
+And thus, in her quiet home, with her baby on her breast and her boy
+at her knee, sat the beautiful woman, with red hair. Sat there, the
+very picture of a good mother and a holy wife, lulling her babe to
+sleep with a verse from some old-fashioned hymn. Somehow this mother,
+centered thus in her quiet home--the blessing of motherhood around and
+about her like a baptism,--seems more worthy of reverence and love,
+than the entire first circle of the opera, blazing with bright diamonds
+and brighter eyes, on a gala night.
+
+The boy resting one hand on his mother's knee, and looking all the
+while into her face, asks in his childish tones, "When will father come
+home?"
+
+"Soon, love, very soon," the mother answers, and resumes the verse of
+the old hymn.
+
+Now, doesn't it strike you that the husband of such a wife, and the
+father of such children must be altogether a good man?
+
+We will see him after awhile, and judge for ourselves.
+
+Meanwhile, sit alone with your children, and watch for his
+coming,--you, simple hearted woman, that know no higher learning, than
+the rich intuitions of a mother's love. Your chastity is like a vail of
+light, making holy the room in which you watch, with your boy at your
+knee, and your baby on your bosom.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+THROUGH THE SILENT CITY.
+
+
+It was a strange march which Arthur and Barnhurst, arm in arm, took
+through the streets of the Empire City.
+
+"I am ready to attend you wherever you go," whispered Arthur, as
+leaving the den of Madam Resimer, they went down the dark street.
+
+"But, where shall I go?" was the question that troubled Barnhurst.
+"Home?" He shuddered at the thought. Any place but home! "Can I
+possibly get rid of him?" Doubtful, exceedingly doubtful; "his arm
+is too strong, and he has me in his power in every way. But that
+engagement which I have, to meet a person at the hour of four o'clock,
+at a peculiar place,--how shall I dispose of it? Shall I fail to keep
+it, or shall I make this man a witness of it?"
+
+Barnhurst was troubled. He knew not what to do. And so arm in arm, they
+walked along in silence through a multitude of streets,--streets dark
+as grave-vaults, and laid out in old times, with a profound contempt of
+right angles--streets walled in with huge warehouses, above whose lofty
+roofs, you caught but a glimpse of the midnight stars.
+
+And so passing along, they came at length upon the Battery, and
+caught the keen blast upon their cheeks, as they wandered among the
+leafless trees. They heard the roar of the waters, and saw the glorious
+bay,--dim and vast,--surging sullenly under the broad sky, dark with
+midnight, and yet, glittering with countless stars. A starlight view of
+Manhattan bay, from the Battery--it was a sight worth seeing. Herman
+and Arthur, standing there alone, looked forth in silence. They could
+not see each other's faces, but Arthur felt the incessant horror which
+agitated Barnhurst's arm and Barnhurst heard the groan which seemed
+wrung from Arthur's very heart.
+
+For a long time there was silence. Flash on, old midnight, in your
+solemn drapery set with stars,--flash on,--you sparkled thus grandly
+ten thousand years ago, as you will ten thousand years hence,--what
+care you for the agony of these two men, who now with widely different
+feelings, stand awed by your sullen splendor!
+
+"If you've seen enough of this, I guess we'd better go," said Arthur,
+mildly, "I am ready to follow you wherever you go."
+
+Barnhurst silently moved away from the waters, and as they went
+among the leafless trees, Dermoyne looked back toward the sounding
+waves--looked back yearningly as though unwilling to leave the sight of
+them, something there was so tempting in that sight. One plunge and all
+is over!
+
+They came upon Broadway. It was between two and three o'clock in the
+morning. I know of nothing in the world so productive of thought, as a
+walk along Broadway about three o'clock in the morning. The haunts of
+traffic are closed: the great artery of the city is silent as death:
+the mad current of life which whirled along it incessantly a few hours
+ago, has disappeared; or if there is life upon its broad flag-stones,
+it is life of a peculiar character, far different from the life of the
+day. And there it spreads before you, under the midnight stars, its
+vast extent defined by two lines of light, which, in the far distance
+melt into one vague mass of brightness. New York is the Empire City of
+the continent and Broadway is the Empire Street of the world.
+
+If you don't believe it, just walk the length of Broadway on a sunny
+day, when it is mad with life and motion,--and then walk it, at night,
+and see the kind of life which creeps over its flag-stones under the
+light of the stars.
+
+They took their silent march up Broadway.
+
+What's this? A huge pile, surrounded by unsightly scaffolding--a huge
+Gothic pile, whose foundation is among graves, and whose unfinished
+spire already seems to touch the stars? Trinity Church--Trinity Church,
+fronting Wall street, as though to watch its worshipers, who scour Wall
+street, six days in the week in search of prey, and on the seventh,
+come to Trinity to say a rich man's prayer, from a prayer-book bound in
+gold.
+
+And this, what's this? This creature in woman's attire, who glides
+along the pavement, now accosting the passer-by in language that sounds
+on woman's lips, like the accents of Hell,--and now, throwing her
+vail aside, clasps her hands and looks shudderingly around, as though
+conscious, that for her, not one heart in all the world, cared one
+throb! What's this? That is a woman, friend. A father used to hold her
+on his knees, just after the evening prayer was said--a mother used to
+bend over her as she slept, and kiss her smiling face, and breathe a
+mother's blessing over her sinless darling. But, what is she now? What
+does she here alone, out in the cold, dark night? * * * * She is a
+tenant of one of the houses owned by Trinity Church. She is out in the
+cold, dark night,--the poor blasted thing you see her,--seeking, out of
+the hire of her pollution, to swell the revenues of Trinity Church!
+
+She came toward Arthur and Barnhurst, even as they passed before the
+portals of the unfinished church.
+
+She laid her hand on Arthur's arm, and said to him, words that need not
+be written.
+
+Arthur looked long and steadily into her face. It had been very
+beautiful once, but now there was fever in the flaming eyes, and death
+in the blue circles beneath them. She had fallen to the lowest deep.
+
+"Look there!" whispered Arthur to Barnhurst, "she was as happy once as
+Alice, and as pure,--that is, as happy and as pure as Alice before you
+knew her. What is she now?"
+
+Barnhurst did not reply.
+
+Arthur took a silver dollar from his pocket and gave it to the girl.
+"Go home," he said, "and God pity you!"
+
+"Home!" she echoed, and took the dollar with an incredulous look,
+and then uttering a strange mad laugh, she went to spend the
+dollar,--one-half of it for rum and the other half to pay the rent
+which she owed to Trinity Church.
+
+(Here it occurs to us, to propose three cheers to good old Trinity
+Church,--and three more to the Patent Gospel which influences the
+actions of its venerable corporation. Hip--hip--hurrah! Hur--, but
+somehow the cheering dies away, when one thinks for a minute of the
+vast contrast between the Gospel of Trinity Church and the Gospel of
+the New Testament. I somehow think we won't cheer any more.)
+
+Up Broadway they resumed their march, Herman and Arthur, arm in arm,
+and silent as the grave. To see them walk so lovingly together, you
+would have thought them the best friends in the world.
+
+What's yonder light, flashing from the window of the fourth story? The
+light of a gambling hell, my friend. That light shines upon piles of
+gold and upon faces haggard with the tortures of the damned.
+
+And these half naked forms, crouching in the doorway of yonder
+unfinished edifice,--huddling together in their rags, and vainly
+endeavoring to keep out the winter's cold. Children,--friendless,
+orphaned children. All day long they roam the streets in search of
+bread, and at night they sleep together in this luxurious style.
+
+But we have arrived at the Astor and the Park stretches before us,
+the wind moaning among its leafless trees, and its lights glimmering
+in a sort of mournful radiance through the gloom. The Park, whose
+walks by day and night have been the theater of more tragedies of real
+life,--more harrowing agony, hopeless misery, starving despair,--than
+you could chronicle in the compass of a thousand volumes. Could these
+flag-stones speak, how many histories might they tell--histories of
+those, who, mad with the last anguish of despair, have paced these
+walks at dead of night, hesitating between crime and suicide, between
+the knife of the assassin and the last plunge of the self murderer!
+
+But at this moment shouts of drunken mirth are heard, opposite
+the Astor. Some twenty gay young gentlemen, attired in opera
+uniform,--black dress-coat, white vest, white kid gloves,--and
+fragrant at once of champagne and cologne, have formed a circle
+around the ancient pump, which stands near the Park gate. These gay
+young gentlemen, after two hours painful endurance of that refinement
+of torture, known as the Italian Opera, have been making a tour of
+philosophical observation through the town; they have carried on a
+brisk crusade against the watchmen; have drank much champagne at a
+"crack" hotel; have tarried awhile in the aristocratic resort of Mr.
+Peter Williams, which, as you doubtless know, gives tone and character
+to the classic region of the Five Points; and now encircling the pump,
+they listen to the eloquent remarks of one of their number, who is
+interrupted now and then by rounds of enthusiastic applause. Very
+much inebriated, he is seated astride of the pump, which his vivid
+imagination transforms into a blooded racer--
+
+"Gentlemen," he says, blandly and with a pardonable thickness of
+utterance, "if my remarks should seem confused, attribute it to my
+position; I am not accustomed to public speaking on horseback. But,
+as Congress is now in session, I deem it a duty which I owe to my
+constituents, to give my views on--on--on the great Bill for the
+Protection of--"
+
+"Huckleberries!" suggested a voice.
+
+"Thank the gentleman from Ann-street," continued the speaker, in true
+parliamentary style, as he swayed to and fro, on top of the pump; "of
+the great Bill for the Protection of Huckleberries! Now, gentlemen," he
+continued, suddenly forgetting his huckleberries, "you know they beat
+Henry Clay this time by their infernal cry of Texas and Oregon; you
+know it!"
+
+There was a frightful chorus, "We do! we do!"
+
+"You know how bad we felt when we crossed Cayuga bridge,--Polk on top,
+and Clay under,--but, gentlemen, I have a cry for 1848 that will knock
+their daylights out of 'em. They shouted Texas and Oregon, and licked
+us; but in 1848 we'll give 'em fits with _Clay_ and--JAPAN!"
+
+"Clay and JAPAN!" was the chorus of the twenty young gentlemen.
+
+"There's a platform for you, gentlemen! Clay and Japan! We'll give 'em
+annexation up to their eyes. Consider, gentlemen, the advantages of
+Japan! Separated from the continent by a trifling slip of water, known
+as the Pacific ocean. Japan may be considered in the light of a near
+neighbor. And then what a delicious campaign we can make, with Japan
+on our banner! Nobody I knows anything about her, and we can lie as
+we please, without the most remote danger of being found out. Isn't
+there something heart-stirring in the very word, JA-PAN? And then,
+gentlemen, we'll have 'em; for Japan ain't committed to any of the
+leading questions of the day, and we can make all sorts o' pledges to
+everybody, and--"
+
+The orator, in his excitement, swayed too much to one side, and fell
+languidly from the pump into the arms of his enthusiastic friends;
+and, with three cheers for "Clay and Japan," the party of twenty young
+gentlemen went, in a staggering column, to a neighboring _restaurant_,
+where--it is presumable--a few bottles more put them, not only into
+the humor of annexing Japan, but all Asia in the bargain. Arthur and
+Barnhurst had observed this scene from the steps of the Astor.
+
+"Do you know this is very absurd?" said Barnhurst, pettishly--"this
+walking about town all night?"
+
+"Do you think so?" responded Dermoyne.
+
+"Then why don't you go home?"
+
+Home! Barnhurst shuddered at the thought. Home! Anything, anything but
+that!
+
+There was something, too, in the singular gayety of Arthur's tone,
+which struck him with more terror than the most boisterous threat.
+Underneath this gayety, like floods of burning lava beneath a morning
+mist, there rolled and swelled a tide of unfathomable emotion.
+
+"Let us walk on," said Barnhurst, faintly; and they walked on, arm
+in arm--the false clergyman with the very terror of death in his
+heart--the poor mechanic with a face immovably calm, but with the fire
+of an irrevocable resolution in his eyes. They walked on: up Broadway,
+and into the region where sits the sullen Tombs, and through the maze
+of streets, where vice and squalor, drunkenness and crime, hold their
+grotesque revel all night long. Through the Five Points they walked,
+confronted at every step by a desperate or abandoned wretch, their ears
+filled with the cries of blasphemy, starvation and mirth,--mirth, that
+was very much like the joy of nethermost hell. Into Chatham street they
+walked, and up the Bowery, and once more across into Broadway, where
+the delicate outlines of Grace Church, with its fairy-like sculpture
+work, were dimly visible in the night. Toward the North River, and
+through narrow alleys, where human beings were herded together in the
+last extreme of misery, they walked; and then into broad streets, whose
+splendid mansions, dark without from pavement to roof, were bright
+within with rich men's revels,--revels, drunken and foul beyond the
+blush of shame.
+
+It was a strange, sad march, which they took in the silent night,
+through the vast Empire City.
+
+And at every step Arthur gathered the Red Book closer to his side.
+
+And behind them, in all their march, even from the moment when they
+left the Battery, two figures followed closely in their wake--unseen by
+Arthur or by Barnhurst,--two figures, tracking every step of their way
+with all a bloodhound's stealth and zeal.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+TRINITY CHURCH.
+
+
+At length--it was near the hour of four--they came to the head of Wall
+street once more, and paused in front of the portals of unfinished
+Trinity.
+
+"Here you must leave me," cried Barnhurst, in a tone of desperation, "I
+have an appointment in this church at the hour of four. Leave me,--at
+least for a little while--"
+
+But Arthur held fast the false clergyman's arm.
+
+"I will never leave you," he said. "Keep your appointment, I will
+witness it. It will be very interesting to know what business it is,
+that can bring you to this unfinished church at the hour of four in the
+morning."
+
+Barnhurst set his teeth together in silent rage.
+
+"You cannot,--cannot,--" he began.
+
+"Not a word," sternly interrupted Dermoyne. "Go in and keep your
+appointment like a man of your word."
+
+Barnhurst led the way, and they passed under heavy piles of scaffolding
+into the dark church. Dark indeed, and unenlivened by a single ray of
+light. All around was silent as the grave. The profound stillness was
+well calculated to strike the heart with awe, and Arthur and Barnhurst,
+as they groped their way along, did not utter a word.
+
+"Here, near the third pillar, I am to meet him," whispered Barnhurst.
+
+"Give me your left hand, then; I will conceal myself behind the pillar,
+and hold you firmly, while you converse with your friend."
+
+Herman, in the thick darkness, placed himself against the pillar, and
+Dermoyne, firmly grasping his left hand, crept behind it.
+
+Thus they stood for many minutes, awaiting the approach of Herman's
+friend. In the dark and stillness those moments seemed so many ages.
+
+A bell, striking the hour of four, resounded over the city.
+
+At length a step was heard, and then a faint cough,--
+
+"Are you here?" said a voice; and Dermoyne, from his place of
+concealment, beheld a dimly-defined figure approach the third pillar.
+
+"I am," answered Barnhurst.
+
+"Who are you?" said the voice of the unknown.
+
+"I am Herman Barnhurst."--His voice was low but distinct.
+
+"How shall I know that you are the Barnhurst whom I seek?" asked the
+unknown.
+
+There was a pause. Barnhurst seemed to hesitate:
+
+"'_The Night of the Tenth of November,_ 1842,'" he said, and his voice
+trembled.
+
+"Right; you are the man," said the unknown. "Did you receive a letter
+last evening?"
+
+"I did,"--and Barnhurst's voice was very faint.
+
+"How was that letter signed, and to what did it refer?"
+
+Again Barnhurst hesitated. Arthur felt the hand which he held grow hot
+and cold by turns.
+
+"It was signed by 'THE THREE,"' he replied in a faltering voice--"and
+referred to an event which _it assumes_ took place on the night of the
+tenth of November, 1842."
+
+"'_Assumes_!'" echoed the unknown, with a faint laugh. "You think it
+an _assumption_, do you? Well, I like that. And the letter requested
+you to meet one of the 'Three,' at this place, at the hour of four this
+morning; and it concluded by stating that you would hear something of
+great interest to yourself in regard to the _events of that night_."
+
+"It did," faintly responded Barnhurst. "I am here, and--"
+
+"We will have a little private conversation together. First of all, you
+must know that I am one of three persons who take a great interest in
+your affairs, and desire to save you from a great deal of trouble. We
+watch over you with fraternal anxiety, and do all we can to keep you
+out of harm. And on the part of the Three, (whose names you will know
+in good time, in case you prove reasonable,) I am deputed to give you a
+little good counsel."
+
+"Good counsel?"
+
+"Good counsel, was the word. Now, in order to understand this good
+counsel, you will understand that the Three are in possession of all
+the facts connected with the remarkable event of the _night of the
+tenth of November_, 1842. Facts, certified by proof--you comprehend?"
+
+Herman gave a start, but did not reply.
+
+"You will, therefore, listen to the good counsel with patience, I doubt
+not. To come to the point, then:--You know that the immense property
+of Trinity Church, comprising, at a rough guess, one eighth of the
+greatest city on the American continent, has been threatened at various
+periods by a series of conspiracies, who have given THE CORPORATION
+much trouble, and who, more than once, have nearly accomplished its
+ruin?"
+
+"I do," answered Herman; "and these conspiracies have all sprung from
+a band of persons, widely dispersed through the United States, and
+calling themselves the heirs of Anreke Jans Bogardus."
+
+"Right," continued the unknown. "Anreke Jans, said to be the natural
+daughter of a king of Holland, lived on this island about two hundred
+years ago. At her death she bequeathed to her children a certain
+farm--a farm which at the present time forms the very heart of New
+York, and constitutes a great part of the wealth of Trinity Church,
+for it is worth countless millions of dollars. Now you are well aware
+that it is alleged by the descendants of Anreke Jans, that this farm
+was juggled out of the hands of one of their ancestors by a gross
+fraud--a fraud worthy of that curse which Scripture pronounces upon the
+man who removes his neighbor's land-mark--and that Trinity Church has
+only one right to the ownership of said farm, to wit: the right of the
+thief and robber?"
+
+"I am aware of this," responded Herman; "and so powerful have been the
+proofs of this fraud, that the Church has, on various occasions, come
+near losing the very jewel of all its immense possessions. Only one
+course of action has saved it from the heirs of Anreke Jans Bogardus--"
+
+"It has, when nearly driven to the wall, consented to compromise with
+the heirs for their claim,--has simply desired in return, a release,
+signed by all the heirs,--and then, on the very eve of settlement, it
+has managed to buy off one or two of the most prominent heirs. For
+instance, Aaron Burr, (who acted for the heirs, some thirty years ago,)
+was lulled into silence by the generosity of the Church. She gave him
+several valuable tracts of land, which he sold to Astor--"
+
+The unknown paused for a moment, and then resumed:
+
+"At the present time, these heirs are preparing a conspiracy, more
+desperately energetic than any previous effort. It is certainly the
+interest of the Church to foil this conspiracy at all hazards. And we
+'THREE' persons, not directly connected with the corporation, think
+that we can make it our interest to assist the Church in the final
+overthrow of the conspirators. To do this effectually, we require the
+assistance of one of the heirs, who will wind himself into the plans of
+the conspirators, help the plot to ripen, and help us to _gather it_
+when it is ripe."
+
+"'One of the heirs?'" muttered Herman.
+
+"Ay, one of the heirs,--and he must be a man of sense, shrewdness and
+undoubted respectability. Now--do you hear me?--you, Herman Barnhurst,
+are one of the heirs of Anreke Jans Bogardus."
+
+There was a pause of profound silence. You might have heard a pin drop,
+in the deep stillness of that vast edifice.
+
+"I am one of the heirs of Anreke Jans," said Herman; "and what then?"
+
+The voice of the unknown was deep, distinct and imperative:
+
+"You will assist us in foiling these conspirators. You will assist us
+willingly, faithfully, and without reserve. This is the good counsel
+which I am deputed to give you."
+
+"And if I decline?" said Herman, drawing a long breath.
+
+"You will not decline when you remember the event of the night of the
+tenth of November, 1842."
+
+Dermoyne felt the hand which he clasped tremble in his grasp.
+
+"Ah!" and Herman drew another long breath.
+
+"As the Third of the Three, I beg your opinion of my good counsel,"
+said the unknown.
+
+"I accept," said Herman, in a husky voice.
+
+"But we must have some pledge for your fidelity--"
+
+"Have you not pledge enough," said Herman, bitterly, "if you know the
+events of that night--"
+
+"True; but we require some other little pledge in the way of
+collateral--as the money lenders say"--said the unknown, who had
+designated himself as "THE THIRD _of the Three_." "In the event of a
+certain contingency--a very improbable contingency,--you will inherit
+one seventh of the Van Huyden estate--"
+
+Herman gave a start;--he moved forward suddenly, but was drawn back
+against the pillar by the strong grip of Dermoyne:
+
+"The Van Huyden estate!" he ejaculated in a tone of utter astonishment.
+
+"I said the Van Huyden estate," continued the Third of the Three,--"and
+that should satisfy you that I know all about it. In witness of your
+good faith, you will to-morrow make over to us, by our own proper
+names, and over your own proper signature, all your right, title and
+interest in the Van Huyden estate. The final settlement, you know,
+takes place the day after to-morrow. In case you act faithfully to us,
+we will restore you your right on the day when, by your assistance, we
+have foiled the heirs of Anreke Jans. The good counsel which I have for
+you is this:--accept this proposition at once, if you know what is good
+for your health, your reputation, your liberty."
+
+The words of the Third of the Three were succeeded by a dead pause. It
+was dark, and the changes of Herman's face could not be seen. A sound
+was heard, like a half-suppressed groan.
+
+"And if I refuse?" he faltered--"if I cast your absurd proposition to
+the winds?"
+
+"Then the _revelation_ of the event of that night, may cast you to the
+devil," was the calm reply.
+
+"At least give me some hours for reflection; let me consider your
+proposal."
+
+"We had thought of this," answered the unknown. "The time is short.
+The 25th of December will soon be here. I am authorized to give you
+until to-day at mid-day,--that is, you have nearly eight hours for calm
+reflection."
+
+Herman said, after a moment's hesitation, in a low and scarce
+perceptible voice,--
+
+"Be it so."
+
+"In case your answer is Yes, you will signify it in this manner"--and
+he whispered in the ear of his victim,--whispered a few brief words,
+which Herman drank in with all his soul. "Remember, before mid-day,
+some seven and a half hours hence."
+
+"You shall have my answer in the manner specified," said Herman, in an
+accent of utter bewilderment.
+
+"Our interview is at an end," said the Third of the Three. "As we must
+not by any chance be seen leaving this place together, I will pass
+through the graveyard, while you go out at the main door. Good night."
+
+And leaving the miserable man, who sank back against the pillar for
+support, the Third of the Three passed from the shadows, out into the
+graveyard, where white tombstones appeared in the starlight, mingled
+with piles of lumber and heaps of building stone.
+
+As he came into the starlight, it might be seen that he was a short
+thick-set man, clad in a dark over-coat, whose upturned collar hid the
+low part of his visage, while his hat, drawn low over his brows, masked
+the upper portion of his face. He chuckled to himself as he picked his
+way among the heaps of lumber and scattered masses of building stone:
+
+"It is a nice game, any how you choose to look at it. The heirs of
+Anreke Jans can be played against the Church; this man Herman can be
+played against the heirs, and the Three can dictate terms to both
+parties, and decide the game. And when the Three have won, why then
+the Third of the Three can hold the First and Second in his power;
+especially, if this man's chance of the seventh of the Van Huyden
+estate is transferred to the Third, by his own proper name. Well,
+well; law, properly understood, is the science of pulling wool over
+other people's eyes: eloquent speeches in court, and the name of a big
+practice, may do for some people; but give me one of these nice little
+cases, which lie sequestered from the public view, quiet as an oyster
+in his bed, and as juicy!"
+
+Thus you see that the Third of the Three was a philosopher. He paused
+before a marble slab, over which he bent, tracing with difficulty the
+inscription, which was in quaint characters, much worn by time--"VAN
+HUYDEN."
+
+"Strange enough! Just as we were about to search the tomb last
+night,[1] to be interrupted and scared from our object by a
+circumstance so unusual! The snug sum of $200,000, in plate, buried in
+a coffin!--an odd kind of sub-treasury! Wonder if there's any truth in
+the legend?"
+
+[1] See Episode, page 114 of the Empire City.
+
+As the gentleman thus soliloquized he fixed his eyes attentively upon
+the slab; but he did not see the approach of a man, wrapped in the
+thick folds of a cloak, and with a broad-brimmed hat over his brow,--a
+man who came noiselessly from the shadows and took his place at the
+opposite extremity of the slab, quietly folding his arms, as he fixed
+his gaze upon the Third of the Three.
+
+A wild sort of picture this: The gloomy church-yard, with its leafless
+trees, and tombstones half hidden among heaps of timber and of
+stone. Yonder, the church, looking like the grotesque creation of an
+enchanter's power, as hidden among uncouth scaffolding, it rises vague
+and shapeless into the sky. And here, by the tomb of the Van Huydens,
+two figures,--the Third of Three, who, in a deep revery, fixes his eyes
+upon the inscription--and the cloaked figure, whose steady gaze is
+centered upon the absent-minded gentleman.
+
+"Two hundred thousand buried in a coffin,"--soliloquized "the
+Third,"--"I wonder if I could not make a little search. The place is
+quiet,--no watchman near--"
+
+"Liar!" said a voice, in tones deep as the sound of an organ. "Learn
+that the Watcher always guards the vault of the Van Huydens:--learn
+that it is sacrilege to rob the dead."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+THE END OF THE MARCH.
+
+
+As Dermoyne led Barnhurst forth into the open air, the false clergyman
+staggered like a drunken man. His tall and angular form shook like a
+reed; and Arthur, catching a glimpse of his countenance, saw that it
+was livid and distorted in every feature.
+
+"Do with me what you will," he said in broken accents. "The worst has
+come.--I do not care! Come; at last, you shall go home with me. Home!"
+
+He turned his steps up Broadway, leaning his weight on Arthur's arm as
+he staggered along.
+
+Terrible as had been the crimes of the wretch, Arthur pitied him. For a
+moment, only; for the dying cry of Alice was in his ear.
+
+"Your punishment begins," he whispered.
+
+And thus, up Broadway, they resumed their march through the city.
+
+They had not gone many paces from the church, when two forms sprang
+suddenly from the shadows of the scaffolding, both clad in dark
+overcoats, with caps drawn over their faces. They were the forms of
+those unknown persons who had followed Arthur and Barnhurst from the
+Battery over the city. One was lean, tall and sinewy in form; his
+quick, active, stealthy step, resembled the step of an Indian. The
+other was short and thick set, with broad chest and bow-legs.
+
+"Did yer see der Red Book, Dirk?"
+
+"O' coss I did; as he come out o' der church, his cloak opened, and I
+seed 'um under his arm. O' coss I did, Slung."
+
+We cannot give any just idea of the peculiar _patois_ of these
+delightful specimens of the civilized savages.
+
+"Travel's der word," said Slung.
+
+"O' coss it is: an' if we ketch 'um in a dark alley, or round a sharp
+corner, won't we smash his daylights in!"
+
+And the one with his hand on his knife, concealed in the pocket of his
+overcoat, and the other with the cord of the slung-shot wound about his
+wrist, they resumed their hunt in the track of Dermoyne.
+
+Unconscious of the danger which strode stealthily in his wake, Dermoyne
+clasped the Red Book to his side with one arm, and with the other
+supported the form of the trembling Barnhurst.
+
+"Yes, we'll go home," muttered the false clergyman--"Home!" He
+pronounced the word with a singular emphasis, like a man half bereft of
+his senses. "You can work your vengeance on me there, for the worst has
+come."
+
+Then, for a long time, they pursued their way in silence, turning
+toward the East River, as they drew near the head of Broadway.
+
+As he drew near his destination--near the end of his singular march,--a
+wild hope agitated the heart of the wretched man, half stupefied as he
+was by despair. It was his last hope.
+
+"This man has feeling," he thought, "and I will try him."
+
+They stood, at length, in the hall of a quiet mansion, the hanging lamp
+above their heads shedding its waving light into their faces. Barnhurst
+had entered the door by a night key, forgetting, in his agitation, to
+close it after him. Arthur dropped his arm, and they confronted each
+other, surveying each other's faces for the first time in four long
+hours.
+
+It was a singular sight. Both lividly pale, and with the fire of widely
+contrasted emotions, giving new fire to their gaze, they silently
+regarded each other. The tall and angular form of the clergyman was in
+contrast with the compact figure of the mechanic: and Herman's visage,
+singular eyes, aquiline nose, bland complexion, and hair sleekly
+disposed behind the ears, was altogether different from the face of the
+mechanic:--bold forehead, surmounted by masses of brown hair, short and
+curling--clear gray eyes, wide mouth, with firm lips, and round and
+massive chin; you might read the vast difference between their minds in
+their widely contrasted faces.
+
+"Well, I am--home," said Barnhurst, with a smile hard to define.
+
+"I will sleep in your room," answered Arthur, quietly. "To-morrow, at
+ten, we go together to that house."
+
+"Let us retire, then," answered Herman. The hanging lamp lighted the
+stairway, and disclosed the door at its head.
+
+Herman, with the hand of Arthur on his arm, led the way up the
+staircase, and paused for a moment at the door. He bent his head as
+if to listen for the echo of a sound, but no sound was heard. Herman
+gently opened the door, and entered--followed by Arthur--a spacious
+chamber, dimly lighted by a taper on the mantle.
+
+"Hush!" said Herman, and pointed to a small couch, on which a boy of
+some three years was sleeping; his rosy face, ruffled by a smile, and
+his hair lying in thick curls all about his snow-white forehead.
+
+"Hush!" again said Herman, and pointed to a curtained bed. A beautiful
+woman was sleeping there, with her sleeping infant cradled on her arm.
+The faces of the mother and babe, laid close together on the pillow,
+looked very beautiful--almost holy--in the soft mysterious light.
+
+"My wife! my children!" gasped Herman. As he spoke, the agitation of
+his face was horrible to look upon.
+
+Dermoyne felt his heart leap to his throat. He could not convince
+himself that it was not a dream. Again and again he turned from the
+face of Barnhurst to the rosy boy on the couch--to the beautiful mother
+and her babe, resting there in the half-broken shadows of the curtained
+bed,--and felt his knees tremble and his heart leap to his throat.
+
+And in contrast with this scene of holy peace,--a pure mother, sleeping
+in the marriage chamber with her children,--came up before him, Alice,
+and her bed of torture in the den of Madam Resimer.
+
+"This,--this," gasped Barnhurst, "this is why I couldn't marry Alice!"
+
+Arthur was convulsed by opposing emotions.
+
+"Devil!" he uttered with set teeth and clenched hands,--"and with a
+wife and children like these, you could still plot the ruin of poor
+Alice!"
+
+"Husband," said the wife, as she awoke from her sleep--"have you come
+at last? I waited for you so long!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Leave we this scene, and retrace our steps. The revel in THE TEMPLE is
+at the highest. The masks begin to fall. Hark! to the whispers which
+mingle softly with the clinking of champagne glasses. By all means let
+us enter THE TEMPLE.
+
+
+
+
+PART FOURTH.
+
+IN THE TEMPLE.
+
+FROM MIDNIGHT UNTIL DAWN.
+
+DECEMBER 24, 1844.
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+IN THE TEMPLE--THE CENTRAL CHAMBER.
+
+
+It was two o'clock on the morning of the 24th of December, 1844,
+when Frank led Nameless over the threshold of a magnificent but
+dimly-lighted hall.
+
+Attired in black velvet, the golden cross upon her breast, and with
+a white vail falling like a snowflake over her face and raven hair,
+she pressed his hand and led him forward to the light. You cannot, by
+the changes of his countenance, trace the emotions now busy at his
+heart; for his face is concealed by a mask; a cap, with a drooping
+plume, shades his brow; his form is attired in a tunic of black velvet,
+gathered to his waist by a scarlet sash; a falling collar discloses his
+throat; and there is a white cross upon his breast, suspended from his
+neck by a golden chain. His brown hair, no longer wild and matted, but
+carefully arranged by a woman's hand, falls in glossy masses to his
+shoulders.
+
+"Stand here, my knight of the white cross, and observe some of the
+mysteries of our Temple."
+
+For a moment she raised her vail, and her dark eyes emitted rays of
+magnetic fire, and the pressure of her hand made the blood bound in
+every vein.
+
+They stood by a marble pillar, near a table on which was placed a lamp
+with a clouded shade,--a table loaded with fruits and flowers, with
+goblets and with bottles of rich old wine.
+
+Nameless could not repress an ejaculation as he surveyed the scene.
+
+"I am in a dream!" he said.
+
+A vast and dimly-lighted hall, broken by a range of marble columns;
+pictures and mirrors flashing and glowing along the lofty walls; and
+the very air imbued with the breath of summer, the fragrance of freshly
+gathered flowers. Near every column was placed a table, covered with
+fruit and flowers, with goblets and bottles of rich old wine; and on
+every table, a lamp with a clouded shade shed around a light at once
+dim, mysterious and voluptuous. And the mirrors reflected the scene,
+amid whose silent magnificence Frank and Nameless stood alone.
+
+"Not in a dream, but in the central chamber of the Temple," she
+whispered. "Here, shut out from the world by thick walls, the guests
+of the Temple assemble at dead of night, and create for themselves a
+sort of fairy world, far different from the world which you see at the
+church or opera, or even on Broadway on a sunshiny day."
+
+There was a touch of mockery in her tone as she spoke.
+
+"But do not these guests, as you call them, know each other?" whispered
+Nameless. "Do not those who mingle in the orgie of the night, recognize
+each other when they meet by daylight?"
+
+"Every _aristocratic_ gentleman knows the _aristocratic_ lady, who
+meets him within these walls," replied Frank. "Beyond that nothing is
+known. A mask, a convenient costume, hides ever face and form. They
+all, however, know the Queen of the Temple,"--she placed her hand upon
+her breast; "and the password, without which no one can cross the
+threshold of this house, is issued by the Queen of the Temple."
+
+"Queen of the Temple?" echoed Nameless.
+
+"Yes, Queen of the Temple! A Queen who rules by midnight--and the
+temple of whose power,--gay, voluptuous, flower-crowned, as you see
+it,--is founded upon pollution and death."
+
+She paused; and Nameless saw her bosom heave, and heard the sigh which
+escaped from her lips.
+
+"But this night past, you will bid adieu to scenes like this forever?"
+whispered Nameless. "You remember your pledge?"
+
+She gently raised the vail; her countenance, in all its impassioned
+loveliness, lay open to his gaze. Her eyes flashed brightly, vividly,
+although wet with tears.
+
+"Yes," she responded in a whisper. "This night past, I will bid
+adieu to scenes like this forever!" and she drew him gently to her
+bosom.--"Your life has been dark--mine dark and criminal. But there
+is hope for us, Gulian--hope beyond these walls, where pollution is
+masked in flowers,--hope in some far distant scene, where, unclogged by
+the dark memories of the past, we will begin life anew, and seek the
+blessing of God, in a career of faith, of self-denial!"
+
+"And then, Frank," said Nameless,--"should wealth ever be ours, we will
+devote it to the redemption of those who have suffered like us, and
+like us fallen."
+
+At this moment, a burst of music, from an adjoining chamber, floated
+through the vast and shadowy hall. And then the sound of dancing,
+mingled with the music--and now and then the music and the dance were
+interrupted by the echo of joyous voices.
+
+"'The guests of the Temple' are dancing in the Banquet Chamber," said
+Frank. "Masked and vailed, shut out from the world by impenetrable
+walls, they are commencing one of those orgies, which awoke the echoes
+of the Vatican, in the days of Pope Borgia."
+
+A curtain was thrust aside,--a momentary blaze of light rushed into
+the vast hall,--and masked and vailed, the "guests of the Temple" came
+pouring into the place.
+
+"Stand here and observe them," whispered Frank.
+
+"A strange and motley throng!" returned Nameless, in a whisper. "Are we
+indeed in New York, in the nineteenth century?--or is it in Rome, in
+the days of the Borgias?"
+
+And for a few moments, he stood side by side with Frank, in the
+shadow of the central pillar, watching the scene in dumb amazement.
+Walking, two by two--some forty men and women in all--the guests glided
+through the voluptuous light--and shadow, no less voluptuous--of the
+central chamber. It was, indeed, a strange and motley crowd! Popes
+and cardinals, and monks and nuns, mingled with knights, caliphs
+and dancing girls. The effect of their rich and varied costumes,
+deepened by the soft light, was impressive, dazzling. A pope led a
+dancing girl by the hand--a Christian knight encircled the slender
+waist of a houri, a stately cardinal discoursed in low tones with a
+staid quakeress, whose enticing form lost none of its charms in her
+severely neat attire; and the grand Caliph Haroun Alraschid, unawed by
+the precepts of the prophet, supported a vailed abbess, on his royal
+arm. Contrasts like these glided among the pillars--now in light, now
+in shadow; echoes of softly whispered conversation filled the hall
+with a musical murmur; and the mirrors along the walls reflected the
+pictures--the tables, loaded with viands and flowers--the rich variety
+of costume--the pillars of white marble--the light and shadow, which
+gave new witchery to the scene.
+
+There were certain of the maskers who, in an especial manner, riveted
+the attention of Nameless.
+
+A man of stately presence and royal stride, attired in a tunic of
+purple silk, with an outer tunic of scarlet velvet, edged with white
+ermine--hose, also of scarlet--and shoes fastened with diamond buckles.
+Even had the mask failed to hide his face, it would have been concealed
+by the cluster of snowy plumes which nodded from his jeweled coronet.
+
+"Behold Roderick Borgia!" whispered Frank, as the masked passed along
+with his stately stride.
+
+"And the lady who leans upon his arm?"
+
+"Lucretia Borgia!"
+
+Lucretia was masked, but the mask which hid the beauty of her face,
+could not conceal the richness of her dark hair, which contrasted so
+vividly with the whiteness of her neck and shoulders. A single lily
+bloomed in solitary loveliness in the blackness of her hair; her form
+was encased in a white robe, which adapting itself in easy folds to the
+shape of her noble bust, is girded lightly to her waist by a scarlet
+scarf. From the wide sleeve, (edged like the skirt with scarlet), you
+catch a glimpse of a magnificent hand and arm.
+
+"Worthy, my dear Lucretia, to rule hearts by your beauty and empires by
+your intellect!" said Roderick.
+
+"Ah, your holiness flatters," was the whispered reply.
+
+"Her shape, indeed, is worthy of Lucretia Borgia," said Frank, as
+Roderick Borgia and his daughter passed by the central pillar, and
+disappeared in the shadows.
+
+"Does she inherit the morals as well as the beauty of the woman-fiend
+whose name she bears?"
+
+Ere Frank could reply, another couple, arm in arm, approached the
+central pillar. A bulky cardinal in a scarlet hat and robe, holding
+by the arm a slender youth attired in modern style, in frock coat and
+trowsers of blue cloth,--the trowsers displaying limbs of unrivaled
+symmetry, and the frock coat buttoned to the throat over an all
+too-prominent bust. The cardinal wore a golden cross on his brawny
+chest, and the brown hair of the slender-waisted youth was gathered
+neatly beneath a velvet cap, surmounted by a single snowy plume. It was
+pleasant to note the affection which existed between the grave cardinal
+and his youthful friend! Not satisfied with suffering the head of the
+graceful boy to repose on his shoulder, the cardinal encircled that
+slender waist with his flowing scarlet sleeve! And thus whispering
+softly--
+
+"Dearest Julia!" said the cardinal, "what think you of that _doctrinal_
+point?"
+
+"Dearest doctor! what if my husband knew?" softly replied the youth.
+
+They passed by the central pillar, from the light into the shadow.
+
+"How name you these?" asked Nameless.
+
+"Leo, the Tenth, and his nephew," was the answer of Frank,--"but see
+here! A monk and nun!"
+
+The monk was tall; his hood and robe fashioned of white cloth bordered
+with red; the hood concealed his face, and the robe fell in easy folds
+from his shoulders to his sandaled feet. The nun was attired in a hood
+and robe of snow-white satin; the hood concealed her face and locks of
+gold; but the robe, although loose and flowing, could not conceal the
+rounded outlines of her shape. Her naked feet were encased in delicate
+slippers of white satin. And clinging with both hands to the arm of the
+White Monk, the White Nun went by.
+
+"Beverly, are you sure?" Nameless heard her whisper.
+
+"Sure?" replied the White Monk, in a tone that rose above a
+whisper,--"He is false--false--you have the proofs!" And they went from
+the light into the gloom.
+
+"She trembles, and her voice falters," said Frank, observing the form
+of the retiring nun.
+
+"Did she not say _Beverly_?" asked Nameless, a tide of recollections
+rushing upon his brain. "That name--surely I heard it,--"
+
+"Look!" interrupted Frank, pressing his arm,--"An oddly assorted couple
+as ever went arm in arm."
+
+And a little Turk, dressed in a scarlet jacket and blue trowsers, with
+an enormous turban on his head, approached the central pillar, leaning
+on the arm,--nay, clutching the hand of a tall lady, whose face and
+form were completely concealed by an unsightly robe of black muslin;
+a garment which seemed to have been assumed, not so much for the sake
+of ornament, as for disguise. Gathering the robe across her head and
+face with one hand, she glided along; her other hand,--apparently not
+altogether to her liking,--grasped by her singular companion. As the
+"Lady in Black" passed by, Nameless heard these words,--
+
+"Havana! A most delightful residence," whispered the Turk.
+
+The "Lady in Black" made no reply,--did not even bend her head; but
+passed along, her robe brushing the tunic of Nameless, as she glided
+from view.
+
+Why was it that through every nerve, Nameless felt a sensation
+which cannot be described, but which one cannot feel but once in a
+lifetime,--and once felt, thrilling from heart to brain, from brain
+to the remotest fiber of being, can never be forgotten? A sensation,
+as though the hand of one long since dead, had touched his cheek, as
+though the presence of one long since given to the grave, had come to
+him and _overshadowed_ him?
+
+"Who is that lady?" he whispered,--resting one hand against the pillar,
+for a sudden faintness seized him,--"That lady who is matched with a
+companion so grotesque?"
+
+"She may be young or old, fair or hideous, but her name I cannot
+tell," responded Frank. "As for her companion,--the diminutive Turk
+who clutches her hand, and to whose soft pleadings she does not seem
+to listen with the most affectionate interest,--his name is----" Frank
+bent her mouth close to the ear of Nameless.
+
+"His name?" he interrupted.
+
+"Is one which cannot but excite bitter memories. Israel Yorke, the
+Financier!"
+
+At that name, linked with the events of the previous night, and
+with the somber memories of other years, Nameless started, and an
+ejaculation escaped his lips.
+
+"Israel Yorke! and in this place?"
+
+"Yes,--and why not?" responded Frank, bitterly. "What place so fitting
+for the swindler,--pardon me, _Financier_? Is it not well that the
+money which by day is wrung from the hard earnings of the poor, should
+be spent at night in debauchery and pollution?"
+
+"_From_ the bank _to_ the brothel," thought Nameless, but he did not
+breathe that thought aloud.
+
+Frank silently took him by the hand, and lifted her vail. There was a
+magic in the pressure and the look. Holding the vail in such a manner
+that he might gaze freely upon her countenance, while it was hidden
+from all other eyes, she looked at him long and steadfastly.
+
+"Do you regret your pledge?" she said, measuring every word.
+
+"Regret!" he echoed,--for the touch, the look, the voluptuous
+atmosphere of her very presence, made him forget the past, the
+prospects of the future,--everything, but the woman whose soul shone
+upon him from her passionate eyes:--"Can you think it? Regret! Never!"
+
+"Then this is my last night in the Temple. O, my heart, my soul is sick
+of scenes like these!" She glanced around the hall, crowded by the
+maskers,--"_To-morrow_,--" bending gently to him, until he felt her
+breath upon his cheek, "to-morrow,--"
+
+"_To-morrow_!" echoed a strange voice; "but, my lady, I have a word to
+say to you _to-night_."
+
+They turned with the same impulse, and beheld the unbidden speaker,
+in the form of a Spanish hidalgo, dressed in black velvet, richly
+embroidered with gold. He held his mask before his face, and a group of
+dark plumes shaded his brow.
+
+She started at the voice, and Nameless felt her hand tremble in his own.
+
+"In a moment I will join you again," she whispered to Nameless; "now,
+Count, I am at your service."
+
+And leaving Nameless by the pillar, she took the Count by the arm, and
+with him disappeared in the shadows of the hall.
+
+Leaning against the pillar, and folding his arms across his
+breast,--over the white cross which glittered there,--Nameless awaited
+her return with evident anxiety. He was devoured by contending
+emotions. The fascination with which this beautiful woman had enveloped
+him,--suspicion of the stranger who had called her from his side,--the
+strange and varied scene before him,--these occupied him by turns; and
+then, even amid the excitement and fascination of the present, some
+faces of the past looked vividly in upon his soul!
+
+And while a scene is transpiring between Frank and the Count, which
+will hereafter have a strong influence upon the fate of Nameless, let
+us, for an instant, stand with him by the central pillar, and gaze upon
+the mysterious ball.
+
+Mild lights, rich shadows, the ceiling supported by marble pillars, the
+maskers in their contrasted costumes, and the mirrors reflecting all.
+The stately Roderick and the enticing Lucretia are conversing earnestly
+in yonder recess,--the White Monk and the White Nun stand face to face
+near yonder pillar, her lip pressing the champagne glass offered by
+his hand,--Leo the Tenth, paces slowly from the middle of the hall
+to the mirror and back again, the head of his beloved nephew on his
+shoulder, _her_ waist encircled by his arm; and yonder, apart from
+all others, stands the Lady in Black, with her diminutive lover, even
+the Turk, kneeling at her feet. Nameless observes all these with an
+especial interest. As for the rest, there is a Pope sharing an orange
+with a dancing-girl, a Knight halving a bunch of grapes with a houri, a
+Cardinal taking wine with a Quakeress; and the saintly Abbess, yonder,
+is teaching the grave Haroun Alraschid how to eat a "philopoena!"
+
+"Truly, my life is one of adventure!" muttered Nameless, observing the
+fantastic scene. "Last night, arrested as a thief,--a few nights since
+the tenant of a mad-house, and to-night in a scene like this! To-morrow
+night _what_ and _where_?"
+
+To-morrow night!
+
+Meanwhile, in a dark recess, whose mirror scarce reflected a single
+ray, Frank, trembling and agitated, stood face to face with the Count.
+His mask was laid aside, and in the dim light she saw his face stamped
+with an unusual energy.
+
+"You wish to speak to me?" she said.
+
+"An hour ago I came to this house,--entered your chamber unsummoned,
+and to my utter surprise found this young man there. I overheard the
+pledge which you exchanged; and now let us have a fair understanding.
+Has he promised,--has he plighted his word? Have you accepted him?"
+Thus spoke the Count, in a low voice.
+
+"He has, father," replied Frank; "and I have accepted him."
+
+"When and where?" asked the Count, or Col. Tarleton, as you please.
+
+"As soon as I leave this place, and am the tenant of a _home_," replied
+Frank, her voice trembling on that word, so new to her--"_home_!"
+
+"Daughter," said Tarleton, and his voice was deep and husky, indicating
+powerful emotion, "I have a few words to say to you; you will do
+well to heed them. The drama of twenty-one years draws to a close.
+The termination of the fifth act will decide my fate and yours. This
+_boy_ is now almost the only obstacle between myself and my brother's
+unbounded wealth, and between you and the position of a respected, if
+not virtuous, woman. And this boy, mark you, shall not leave this house
+save as your husband. I swear it! Do you hear me,--"
+
+His voice grew thicker, huskier,--he seized her by the wrist.
+
+"Father!" she gasped, as though her proud spirit was cowed by the
+ferocious determination of his manner.
+
+"He shall not leave this house save as your husband. You say that he
+is fascinated with you, and you, at first sight, with him. Well! He
+has seventy-one thousand dollars now in his possession, (no matter how
+gained), and on the 25th of December, that is, to-morrow, if _living_,
+he will become the possessor of the Van Huyden estate, a richer man
+than Girard and Astor together; ay, ten Astors and Girards on top of
+that. As his wife, your position will be that of a queen; and as for
+myself, I will sacrifice my hopes as the brother of the testator, in
+order to behold you the queenly wife of that testator's son. You hear
+me?"
+
+"I do," gasped Frank.
+
+"But there must be no mistake, mark you, no 'slip between the cup and
+the lip;' the time is too near, to trust this matter to the remotest
+chance of failure. He must be your husband ere he leaves this house,
+or,--"
+
+"Or?" faltered Frank.
+
+"Or,--mark you, I do not threaten; but I am speaking Fate,--or, he will
+not _appear_ on the 25th of December."
+
+"He will not _appear_? What mean you?" her voice suddenly changed; she
+laid her hand upon his shoulder. "Do you mean to say that you will
+_murder_ him, dear father?"
+
+"He will not _appear_, I said, and say it again," he resumed in the
+same determined voice; "and the inheritance of this incredible estate
+will fall either to the seven, or to myself, the brother, or,--are you
+listening, daughter?--to the _twin brother_ of this boy."
+
+"Twin brother?" echoed Frank, utterly amazed.
+
+"Yes, twin brother. The time is short, and we must put what we have to
+say in the fewest words. You remember your lost brother, Gulian?"
+
+"I do."
+
+"He was not your brother, although you were always taught to regard
+him as such. He was the twin brother of the boy who now leans against
+yonder pillar. On the night of his birth (wishing to destroy every
+obstacle between myself and my brother's estate), I stole him from his
+mother's arms. But when I learned the details of my brother's singular
+will, I resolved to rear him as my own, and keep him in reserve until
+the 25th of December, 1844, when thoroughly under my influence, and
+yet backed by undeniable proofs of his paternity, he would appear and
+claim his father's estate. It was not until 1832, that I learned that
+he had a twin brother in existence; you know what pains I took to
+sweep all proof of his existence from the memory of man; and it was
+only last night that I learned that this twin brother (now standing by
+yonder pillar), was still in being. Now, Frank, is the case clear? The
+one whom you were taught to call your brother Gulian, and to regard as
+lost, is neither your brother nor is he lost. He is living, and at my
+will, on the 25th of December, 1844,--to-morrow,--will appear in place
+of yonder youth, unless the marriage takes place at once."
+
+Frank was utterly confounded. Well she remembered the revelation which
+Nameless made while in the clairvoyant state; that his mother had given
+birth to two children, one of whom had been secreted by the father, the
+other stolen by the uncle, but that the lost boy, whom she had been
+taught to regard as her brother Gulian, was one of these twins, was the
+brother of Nameless,--this was indeed a revelation, an overwhelming
+surprise. For a moment she was silent; her brain throbbed painfully.
+
+"But how am I to believe this story?"
+
+"You can disbelieve it, if you like," responded her father drily, "and
+risk the consequences--"
+
+"But will not the marriage be as certain to-morrow, the day after, nay
+a week hence,--" she faltered.
+
+"Girl! you will drive me mad,--" he clutched her by the
+wrist:--"nothing is certain that is not accomplished--"
+
+She felt the blood mount to her cheek, and her heart swell in her
+breast:
+
+"Have you no shame?" she said and flung his hand from her wrist--"Do
+you forget what you have made me? How can I, knowing what I am, what
+you have made me, urge him to hasten this marriage? Have you no shame?
+'Come, I am lost and fallen,' shall I speak thus to him, 'I was sold
+into shame by my parents, when only fourteen years old. But you must
+marry me; to-night; at once; my father says so; he knows best; he sold
+me; and wants your fortune!' do you wish me to speak thus to him,
+father dear?"
+
+It was now his turn to tremble. The proud spirit of her mother, (before
+he had degraded that mother,) spoke again in the tone, in the look of
+her daughter. He bit his lip, and ground his teeth.
+
+"Frank, Frank, pity me,--I am desperate, but it is for your sake!" he
+cried, changing his method of attack--"Spare me the commission of a new
+crime,--spare me! I do not threaten, I entreat."
+
+Wringing her hands within his own, he dragged her deeper into the
+shadows of the recess.
+
+"Behold me at your feet;" he fell upon his knees; "the father on his
+knees at his daughter's feet; the father already steeped in crime,
+beseeches that daughter to save him from the commission of a new crime;
+to save him by simply pursuing her own happiness."
+
+Frank was fearfully agitated; she drew her father to his right. "When
+do you wish the marriage to take place?" she said in a faltering tone.
+
+"At once,--for your sake,--"
+
+"But the clergyman,--"
+
+"Dr. Bulgin is here. If you consent I will summon him to your chamber.
+The ceremony will take place there.
+
+"Wait," she whispered; "I will see him. If I drop my 'kerchief, or take
+the cross from his neck all is right."
+
+She glided from her father's side, and passing along the hall, among
+the maskers, soon stood by the side of Nameless once more.
+
+Tarleton watched her as she went; watched her as she confronted
+Nameless; and while her back was toward him, endeavored, even through
+the distance, to mark the result of her mission, from the changes of
+the countenance of Nameless. Tarleton's form was concealed by the
+hangings of the recess, but his face, projecting from its shadow, was
+touched with faint light; light that only rendered more haggard and
+livid, its already haggard and livid lineaments. How earnestly he
+watched for the anticipated sign! It was not made. He clutched the
+hangings with both hands.
+
+It had been a busy night with him. He had taken Ninety-One to the rooms
+of young Evelyn Somers, and placed the convict in one room, while the
+dead body of his own victim, rested in the other; thence he had passed
+to the library of Somers, the father, and held a pleasant chat with
+him; and from thence to the counting-room of Israel Yorke, where he had
+set Blossom on the track of Ninety-One. And from the counting-room of
+Israel Yorke, (after a deed or two which may hereafter be explained)
+he had repaired once more to the house of the merchant prince, in time
+to find Ninety-One accused of the murder of young Evelyn Somers. He
+had rushed to the room of Ninety-One, determined to avenge the murder
+of his friend, and to his great astonishment, found that Ninety-One
+had escaped by a secret door. Of course, the gallant Colonel knew
+nothing of that door! Then he had witnessed the death scene of the
+merchant-prince, and after threatening the boy, Gulian, he had returned
+to the Temple, brooding all sorts of schemes, big with all kinds of
+elaborate deviltry; and had discovered, to his real surprise, Nameless
+in his daughter's chamber! Discovered that Frank was in love with
+Nameless, and Nameless fascinated by Frank. A busy night, gallant
+Colonel! Well may you clutch the hangings with both hands, and watch
+for the falling of the 'kerchief, or the lifting of the cross!
+
+"They are talking,--talking,--zounds! Why does she not give the sign?
+That sign given and all my difficulties are at an end! The seven heirs,
+Martin Fulmer, the estate, all are in my power!"
+
+As these words escaped the Colonel's lips, two figures approached:
+one a knight in blue armor, (something like unto the stage
+image of the Ghost of Hamlet's father,) and the other in buff
+waistcoat, wide-skirted coat, ruffles, cocked hat, and buckskin
+small clothes,--supposed altogether to resemble a gentleman of the
+old school. The blue knight and the gentleman of the old school
+were moderately inebriated: even to a sinuousness of gait, and a
+tremulousness of the knees.
+
+"I say Colonel, _what--what_ news?" hiccupped the knight.
+
+"Yes, yes," remarked the gentleman of the old school, with a bold
+attempt at originality of thought, "what _news_?"
+
+"Pop!--" the Colonel looked at the knight,--"Pills!" he surveyed the
+gentleman of the old school; "I've sad news for you. Passing by the
+house of old Mr. Somers, an hour or two ago, I discovered that his son
+had been murdered in his room, you mark me, by an escaped convict, who
+was found concealed on the premises. Sad news, boys!"
+
+"Extraordinary!" cried Pop and Pill in a breath. And the two drew near
+the principal and conversed at leisure with him; the Colonel all the
+while watching for the sign!
+
+Frank and Nameless!
+
+She found him leaning against the central pillar, his arms folded on
+his breast, his large gray eyes (for the mask had fallen from his
+face,) roving thoughtfully around the hall. How changed that face! The
+cheeks, no longer sallow, are flushed with hope; the lips, no longer
+colorless and dropped apart in vacant apathy, are firmly set together;
+the broad forehead, still white and massive, is stamped with thought;
+the thought which, no longer dismayed by the bitter past, looks
+forward, with a clear vision to the battles of the future. The events
+of the night had given new life to Nameless.
+
+She caught his gaze,--and at once enchained it. His eye derived new
+fire from her look, but was chained to that look.
+
+"It was _my father_ who wished to speak with me, Gulian," she said, and
+watched each lineament of his countenance.
+
+"Your father?" he echoed.
+
+"My father, who has worked you so much wrong,--who has worked such
+bitter wrong to me,--and who this very night, while brooding schemes
+for your ruin, entered my chamber, and found you in my arms, and heard
+the solemn pledge which we exchanged."
+
+"Well, Frank," he interrupted, gazing anxiously into her face.
+
+"He confesses that our,--our _marriage_, will more than exceed his
+wildest hope. That the very thought of it, makes him feel bitter
+remorse for the past, and levels every evil thought, as regards the
+future. But--"
+
+She paused and took his hands in hers, and bent her face nearer to him,
+until her burning gaze, riveted every power of his soul.
+
+"But he is afraid that you will hereafter regret your pledge of
+marriage."
+
+"Frank!"
+
+"That you, as the possessor of incredible wealth, will look back with
+wonder, with contempt upon the hour, when you plighted your faith to
+one like me!"
+
+"One like you! Frank, Frank, do you think thus?"
+
+"That once secure in your possessions, you will regard as worse than
+idle words, a promise made to the daughter of your enemy,--to a woman,
+whose life has been--spare me--"
+
+She buried her head upon his breast; he drew her to him and felt the
+beating of her heart.
+
+"Oh, Frank, can you think thus meanly of me?" he cried, completely
+carried away by her wild beauty, her agitation, her tears. "My promise
+once made cannot be taken back. I know what I promise; I know the
+future. I have risen from the grave of my past life; you, too, shall
+rise from the grave of your past life. We will begin life anew. We
+will walk the world together! Oh, would that this hour, this moment, I
+could make my compact good, beyond all chance of change, all danger of
+repeal!"
+
+"Do you really wish thus, Gulian?" She raised her face, and her soul
+was in her eyes. "Is that the deepest wish of your heart?"
+
+"Frank, I swear it!"
+
+She took the white cross from his neck,--held it for a moment over her
+head; it glittered brightly in the light; and then she wound the chain
+about her own neck, and the white cross glittered on her proud bosom.
+
+"Take this in exchange"--she took the golden cross from her breast, and
+wound its chain about his neck; the cross glitters over his heart--"in
+witness of our mutual pledge. And Gulian,--" there was a look--an
+extended hand--"Come!"
+
+She led him from the light into the shadows, and--while his every pulse
+bounded as with a new life--from the hall.
+
+And, as they passed from the hall, Leo the Tenth, clad in his cardinal
+attire, led his young nephew lovingly among the shadows of the vast
+apartment,--now pausing to refresh himself with sparkling Heidsick, and
+now twining his arm about the nephew's waist, trying to soothe _her_
+mind upon some doctrinal point:
+
+"Dearest Julia," he whispered, as they paused for a moment in the
+shadow of a pillar.
+
+"Dearest Doctor," she responded--that is, the nephew, clad in blue
+frock-coat and trowsers; "you don't think that my husband ever will--"
+
+The sentence was interrupted. A grave hidalgo, attired in black velvet,
+richly embroidered with gold, confronted the Doctor, otherwise Leo the
+Tenth, and whispered earnestly in his ear.
+
+"Impossible!" responded Leo the Tenth, shaking his head. "Impossible,
+my dear Tarleton!"
+
+"It _must_ be," answered the hidalgo, emphatically. "A quiet room up
+stairs, and no one present save myself, the bridegroom and the bride."
+
+"But my name will appear on the certificate," hesitated the Doctor,
+"and questions may be asked as to the _place_ in which this marriage
+was celebrated, and _how_ I came to be there."
+
+"Pshaw! You are strangely scrupulous," returned the hidalgo. "I tell
+you, Doctor, it is a matter of the last importance, and cannot be put
+off. Then you can celebrate the marriage a _second_ time, in _another
+place_, and--" he whispered a few emphatic words in the Doctor's ear.
+
+Leo the Tenth was troubled, but he saw no way of escape.
+
+"Well, well, be it so, Tarleton; you are an odd sort of fellow. Julia,
+dear,"--this, aside to his nephew; "wait for me in the Scarlet Chamber,
+up stairs, you know?" The nephew whispered _her_ assent. "I'll join
+you presently. Now Count,"--this to Tarleton,--"lead the way, and let
+us celebrate these mysterious nuptials."
+
+And the three left the Central Hall together. Tarleton and the Doctor,
+on their way to the Bridal Chamber, and the nephew on _her_ way to the
+Scarlet Chamber.
+
+Near the central pillar stood the White Monk, with the hands of the
+White Nun resting on his shoulders, and his arms about her waist. Her
+hood has fallen; her countenance, flushed and glowing, lies open to
+his gaze. A beautiful nun, with blue eyes, swimming in fiery light,
+and unbound hair, bright as gold, sweeping a cheek like a rosebud,
+and resting upon neck and shoulders white as snow. And the White Monk
+bends down, and their lips meet, and she falls, half passionately, half
+shuddering, on his breast.
+
+"Oh, Beverly, Beverly! whither would you lead me?" He scarce can
+distinguish the words, so faint, so broken by agitation is her voice.
+
+"Your husband is false. He has trampled upon your love. I love you, and
+will avenge you. Come, Joanna!"
+
+And from the light into the shadow, with the trembling nun half resting
+on his arm, half reposing on his breast, passes the White Monk. They
+reach the threshold of the hall. Pass it not, Joanna, as you love your
+child! pass it not, on peril of your soul! But no! "Come, Joanna!" and
+they are gone together.
+
+From the throng of maskers who glide to and fro, select, for a moment,
+the lady in black, who stands gloomily yonder, gathering the folds of
+her robe about her face. Does this scene attract, or repel her? Within
+that shapeless robe, does her bosom swell with pleasure--voluptuous
+pleasure? or does it contract with terror and loathing?
+
+Her Turkish friend,--the diminutive gentleman in the red jacket,
+spangled all over, blue trowsers and red morocco boots,--in vain offers
+her a glass of sparkling champagne; and just as vainly essays to draw
+her forth in conversation. At last, he seems to weary of her continued
+silence:
+
+"If you will favor me with your company for a few moments, I will
+explain the purpose which impelled me to request an interview at this
+place."
+
+"Let it be at once, then," is the whispered reply.
+
+He offers his arm; she quietly but firmly pushes it aside.
+
+"I will follow you," she says in her low-toned voice.
+
+And the Turk leaves the hall, followed by the Lady in Black.
+
+"The Blue Chamber!" he ejaculates, as he crosses the threshold.
+
+Look again among the throng of guests. The stately Roderick Borgia
+stands yonder, his massive form reflected in a mirror, and the white
+robed Lucretia resting on his arm. They are masked; you cannot see
+the voluptuous loveliness of her face, nor the somber passion of his
+bronzed visage. But his brow,--that vast forehead, big with swollen
+veins,--is visible; and the mirror reflects her spotless neck and
+shoulders, and the single lily set among the meshes of her raven hair.
+It is a fine picture; the majestic Borgia, clad in purple, the enticing
+Lucretia robed in snowy white: never before did mirror reflect a more
+striking contrast. You hear his voice--that voice whose organ-like
+depth stirs the blood:
+
+"A career, beautiful lady, now opens before you, such as the proudest
+queen might envy--"
+
+And he attempts to take her soft, white hand within his own. But she
+gently withdraws it from his grasp. Lucretia, it seems, is timid,
+or--artful.
+
+"Yes, we will revive the day, when intellect and beauty, embodied in a
+woman's form, ruled the world." How his deep voice adds force to his
+words. "Yes, yes; you shall be my Queen--mine! But come; I have that to
+say to you, which will have a vital bearing upon your fate."
+
+"And my brother?" whispers Lucretia.
+
+"And also the fate of your brother," responds Roderick Borgia. "Come
+with me to the Golden Room."
+
+"To the Golden Room be it then!"
+
+And Lucretia leans on the arm of Borgia and goes with him from the Hall
+to the Golden Room: his broad chest swelling with the anticipation of
+triumph,--and her right hand resting upon the hilt of the poniard which
+is inserted in the scarf that binds her waist.
+
+Ere we follow the guests who have left the hall, and trace their
+various fortunes, let us cast a momentary glance upon those who remain.
+
+The Caliph Haroun Alraschid sits by yonder table, sipping champagne
+from a long-necked glass, which now and then is pressed by the lips
+of his fair abbess. The caliph has evidently been refreshing himself
+too bountifully with the wines of the Giaour; his mask falls aside,
+and beneath his turban, instead of the grave oriental features of the
+magnificent sultan, you discern the puffy face and carbuncled nose of a
+Wall street broker.
+
+A little beyond the caliph, a pope has fallen to sleep on yonder sofa,
+the triple crown resting neglected at his feet, and his pontifical
+robes soiled with the stains of wine. The cardinal and his Quakeress
+are trying the steps of the last waltz. The Christian knight and his
+houri, stand by the table, near the pillar,--discussing the merits of
+Mahomet's paradise? No! But the remains of a cold boiled fowl. And
+then, in the shadows of the pillars, and in front of the lofty mirrors,
+still glided to and fro the contrasted train of monks and nuns, knights
+and houris, cardinals and Quakeresses, popes and dancing girls. All
+were masked--still masked: for there were faces in that hall which you
+may have often seen in the dress circle of the opera, or in the dress
+pews of the fashionable church. Remove those masks? Never! not as you
+value the peace of a hundred families, the reputation of some of our
+most exclusive fashionables, the repose of "good society."
+
+Thus the maskers glide along; the music strikes up in an adjoining
+hall--the dance begins--the orgie deepens,--and,--
+
+Let the curtain fall.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+THE BLUE ROOM.
+
+
+The diminutive Turk, followed by the Lady in Black, led the way from
+the hall, to a distant and secluded apartment. She still gathered the
+hood of her robe closely about her face, and not a word was spoken as
+they pursued their way along the dark passage. A door was opened, and
+they entered a small although luxurious apartment, hung with hangings
+of azure, veined with golden flowers. A wax candle, placed in its
+massive candlestick, on a table before a mirror, gave light to the
+place. It was a silent, cozy, and luxurious nook of the Temple, remote
+from the hall, and secure from all danger of interruption.
+
+As the Turk entered he flung aside his mask and turban, and disclosed
+the ferret eyes, bald head and wiry whiskers of Israel Yorke. Israel's
+bald head was fringed with white hairs; his wiry whiskers touched with
+gray; it was a strange contrast between his practical _bank-note_ face,
+and his oriental costume.
+
+"Now," he cried, flinging himself into a chair, "let us come to some
+understanding. What in the deuce do you mean?"
+
+"What do I mean?" echoed the Lady in Black, who, seated on the sofa,
+held the folds of the robe across her face.
+
+"Yes, _what_ do you mean?" replied Israel, giving his Turkish jacket a
+petulant twitch. "Did I not help you out of that difficulty in Canal
+street, last evening, and rescue you from the impertinence of the
+shop-keeper?"
+
+"Yes," briefly responded the lady.
+
+"Did I not, seeing your forlorn and desolate condition, pin a note
+to your shawl, signed with my own name, asking you to meet me at
+this place, at twelve o'clock, 'where,' so I said, 'my worthy and
+unprotected friend, now so bravely endeavoring to get bread for
+an afflicted father, you will hear of something greatly to your
+advantage.' Those were my words, '_greatly to your advantage_.'"
+
+"Those were the words," echoed the lady, still preserving her
+motionless attitude.
+
+"And in the note I inclosed the password by which only admittance can
+be gained to this mansion?"
+
+"You did. I used it; entered the mansion and met you." Her voice was
+scarcely audible and very tremulous.
+
+"You met me, oh, indeed you met me," said Israel, pulling his gray
+whiskers; "but what of that? An hour and more has passed. You have
+refused even a glass of wine,--have never replied one word to all my
+propositions; egad! I have not even seen your face."
+
+"And now you have brought me to this lonely apartment to repeat your
+proposals?"
+
+"Yes!" Israel picked up his turban and twirled it round on the end of
+his finger. "I want a plain answer, yes, or no! I am a plain man,--a
+man of business. You are poor, almost starving (pardon me if I pain
+you), and you have an aged and helpless father on your hands. You
+have nothing to look forward to, but starvation, or, the streets. You
+remember the scene in the shirt-store to-night?"
+
+The lady gently bowed her head, and raised both hands to her face.
+
+"I am rich, benevolent, always had a good heart,"--another twirl of the
+turban,--"and in a day or two I am about to sail for Havana. Accompany
+me! Your father shall be settled comfortably; the sea-breezes will do
+you good, and,--and,--the climate is delicious." And the fervent Turk
+stroked his bald head, and smoothed his white hairs.
+
+"Accompany you," said the lady, slowly; "in what capacity? As a
+daughter, perchance?"
+
+"Not ex-act-ly as a daugh-t-e-r," responded Israel; "but as a
+_companion_."
+
+There was a pause, and the robe was gently removed from the head and
+face of the Lady in Black. A beautiful countenance, shaded by dark
+brown hair, was disclosed; young and beautiful, although there was the
+shadow of sorrow on the cheeks, and traces of tears in the eyes. An
+expression inexpressibly sad and touching came over that face, as she
+said, in a voice which was musical in its very tremor,--
+
+"And you, sir, knew my father in better days?"
+
+"I did."
+
+"You never knew any one of his race guilty of a dishonorable act?"
+
+"Never did."
+
+"And now you find him aged and helpless,--find myself, his only hope,
+reduced to the last extreme of poverty, with no prospect but (your own
+words), starvation, or the streets,--"
+
+"Ay." Israel, beneath his spectacles, seemed to cast an admiring glance
+at his Turkish trowsers and red morocco boots.
+
+"And in this hour, you, an old friend of the family, who have
+never known one of our name guilty of an act of dishonor, come to
+me, and seeing my father's affliction, and my perfectly helpless
+condition, gravely propose that I shall escape dishonor by becoming
+your--_mistress_! That is your proposition, sir."
+
+She rose and placed her hand firmly on Israel's shoulder, and looked
+him fixedly in the eye. The little man was thunderstruck. Her flashing
+eyes, her bosom heaving proudly under its faded covering, the proud
+curl of her lip, and the firm pressure of the hand which rested on his
+shoulder, took the Financier completely by surprise.
+
+"I am scarce sixteen years old," she continued, her eyes growing larger
+and brighter, "my childhood was passed without a care. But in the
+last two years I have gone through trials that madden me now to think
+upon; trials that the aged and experienced are rarely called upon to
+encounter; but in the darkest hour, I have never forgotten these words,
+'Trust in God;' never for an instant believed that God would ever leave
+me to become the prey of a man like _you_!"
+
+And she pressed his shoulder, until the little man shook again, his
+gold spectacles rattling on his nose.
+
+"For, do you mark me, the very trials that have well-nigh driven me
+mad, have also given me strength and courage, may be, the strength, the
+courage of despair, but still the courage, when the last hope fails, to
+choose death before dishonor!"
+
+"But your father," faltered Israel.
+
+"My father is without bread; but once in twenty-four hours have I
+tasted food, and that a miserable morsel; but rather than accept your
+proposals, and lie down with shame, I would put the poison vial first
+to my father's lips, then to my own! Yes, Israel Yorke, there is a God,
+and He, in this house, when the last hope has gone out, when there is
+nothing but death before, gives me strength to spit upon your infamous
+proposals, and to die! Strength such as you will never feel in your
+death-hour!"
+
+"Pretty talk, pretty talk," faltered Israel; "but what does it amount
+to? Talk on, still the fact remains; you and your father are starving,
+and you reject the offer of the only one who can relieve you."
+
+She raised her eyes to heaven. She folded her hands upon her heaving
+breast. Her face was unnaturally pallid; her eyes unnaturally bright.
+As she stood, in an attitude so calm and severe, she was wondrously
+beautiful. Her voice was marked with singular elation,--
+
+"O, my God! there must be a hell," she said. "There must be a place
+where the injustice of this world is made straight; else why does this
+man sit here, clad in ill-gotten and superfluous wealth, while my aged
+father, one of his victims, lacks at this hour even a crust of bread?"
+
+Israel's feelings can only be described by a single
+word--"uncomfortable." He shifted nervously in his chair, and twirled
+his turban on the end of his finger; then rubbed his bald head,
+smoothed his white hair, and pulled his wiry whiskers.
+
+"What in the devil did you come to see me for, if such was your opinion
+of me?"
+
+"I came to see you as a last hope;" her countenance fell, and her tone
+was that of unalloyed despair. "I thought that remorse had been busy at
+your heart; that you wished to atone for the past by a just, although
+tardy, restitution. I thought----"
+
+"Remorse! restitution!" laughed the Financier. "Come, I like that!"
+
+"That knowing the utterly destitute condition of the father, you had
+summoned the daughter, in order to tender to her, at least, a portion
+of the wealth which you wrung from him----"
+
+Choked by emotion, she could not proceed, but grew pale and paler,
+until a flood of tears came to her relief.
+
+"O, sir, a pittance, a pittance, to save my father's life!" She flung
+herself at his feet, and clutched his knees. Her much-worn bonnet fell
+back upon her neck, and her hair burst its fastening, and descended
+in wavy masses upon her shoulders. Her face was flushed with sudden
+warmth; her eyes shone all the brighter for their tears. "A pittance
+out of your immense wealth, to save the life of your old friend, my
+father! His daughter begs it at your feet."
+
+Israel gazed at her deliberately through his gold spectacles,--
+
+"Oh, no, my dear," he said, and a sneer curled his cold lip; "you are
+too damnably virtuous."
+
+The maiden said no more. Relaxing her grasp, she fell at his feet, and
+lay there, pale and insensible, her long hair floating on the carpet.
+The agony which she had endured in the last twenty-four hours had
+reached its climax. She was stretched like a dead woman at the feet of
+the Financier.
+
+"Trust in God,--good motto for a picture-book; but what good does it
+do you now my dear?" thus soliloquized Israel, as he knelt beside the
+insensible girl. "Don't discount that kind of paper in my bank that I
+know of. Fine arm, that, and splendid bust!" He surveyed her maidenly,
+yet rounded proportions. "If it was not for her stubborn virtue, she
+would make a splendid companion. Well, well,----"
+
+A vile thought worked its way through every lineament of his face.
+
+"Once in my power, all her scruples would be at an end. We are
+alone,"--he glanced around the cozy apartment,--"and I think I'll try
+the effect of an anodyne. Anodynes are good for fainting spells, I
+believe."
+
+He drew a slender vial from beneath his Turkish jacket, and holding it
+between himself and the light, examined it steadily with one eye.
+
+"It is well I thought of it! 'Twill revive her,--make her gently
+delirious for a while, and she will not come to herself completely
+until to-morrow; much surer than persuasion, and quicker! Trust in
+God,--a-hem!"
+
+He raised her head on his knee, and un corked the vial and held it to
+her lips.
+
+At that moment there was a quick, rapid knock at the door. It broke
+startlingly upon the dead stillness.
+
+"Why did I not lock it?" cried Israel, his hand paralyzed, even as it
+held the vial to the poor girl's lips.
+
+Too late! The door opened, and one by one, six sturdy men, in rough
+garments and with faces by no means ominous of good stalked into the
+room.
+
+And over the shoulders of the six, appeared six other faces, all
+wearing that same discouraging expression. It may not be improper to
+state that every one of the twelve carried in his right hand a piece of
+wood, that deserved the name of a stick, perchance, a club.
+
+And shuffling over the floor, they encircled Israel. "Got him," said
+one who appeared to be the spokesman of the band, "safe and tight! Had
+a hunt, but fetched him at last. I say, Israel, my Turk, (a gentle hint
+with a club), get up and redeem your paper!"
+
+And he held a bundle of bank notes,--Chow Bank, Muddy Run, Terrapin
+Hollow, under the nose of the paralyzed Financier.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE GOLDEN ROOM.
+
+
+Roderick Borgia leads Lucretia across the threshold of the Golden
+Room. She utters an ejaculation of wonder mingled with terror. For it
+is a magnificent, and yet a gloomy place that Golden Room. A large
+square apartment, the walls concealed by black hangings,--hangings of
+velvet fringed with gold. The floor is covered with a dark carpet, the
+ceiling represents a sun radiating among sullen clouds. The chairs, the
+sofa, are covered with black velvet, and framed in gold. Only a single
+mirror is there,--opposite the sofa, reaching from the floor to the
+ceiling, framed in ebony, which in its turn is framed in a border of
+gold. A lamp, whose light is softened by a clouded shade, stands on an
+ebony table, between the sofa and the mirror, and around the lamp are
+clustered fruits and flowers, two long necked glasses, and a bottle of
+Bohemian glass, blue, veined with gold. A single picture, suspended
+against the dark hangings, alone relieves the sullen grandeur of the
+place. It is of the size of life, and represents Lucretia Borgia, her
+unbound hair waving darkly over her white shoulders, and half bared
+bosom, her eyes shooting their maddening glance, from the shadow of
+the long eyelashes, her form clad in a white garment, edged with
+scarlet,--a garment which, light and airy, floats like a misty vail
+about her beautiful shape. Coming from the darkness into this scene,
+the masked Lucretia, as we have said, could not repress an ejaculation,
+half astonishment, half fear--
+
+
+"Never fear," cries Roderick gayly, as he flung his plumed cap on the
+table. "It looks gloomy enough, but then it is like the Golden Room
+in the Vatican, of which history tells. And then,"--he pointed to the
+picture, "the living Lucretia need not fear a comparison with the dead
+one. Remove your mask! I am dying to look upon you."
+
+Lucretia sank upon the sofa with Roderick by her side. Roderick
+unmasked and revealed the somber features of Gabriel Godlike. Lucretia
+dropped her mask, and the light shone on the face of Esther Royalton.
+
+"By heavens, you are beautiful!"--his eyes streamed with singular
+intense light, from the shadow of his projecting brow.
+
+And she was beautiful. A faultless shape, neck and shoulders white
+as snow, a countenance framed in jet-black hair, the red bloom of a
+passionate organization on lips and cheeks, large eyes, whose intense
+light was rather deepened than subdued by the shadow of the long
+eyelashes. And then the blush which coursed over her face and neck,
+as she felt Godlike's burning gaze fixed upon her, can be compared to
+nothing save a sudden flash of morning sunlight, trembling over frozen
+snow. One of those women, altogether, whose organization embodies the
+very intensity of intellect and passion, and whose way in life lies
+along no middle track, but either rises to the full sunlight, or is
+lost in shadows and darkness.
+
+"You consent, my child?" Godlike softened his organ-like voice,--took
+her hand within his own--she did not give, nor did she withdraw her
+hand,--"Randolph shall go abroad, upon an honorable mission to a
+foreign court, where he will be treated as a man, without regard to the
+taint (if thus it may be called) in his blood. He will have fair and
+free scope for the development of his genius. And you,--"
+
+He paused. She lifted her eyes to his face, and met his burning
+glances, with a searching and profound look.
+
+"And myself,--"
+
+"And you shall go with me to Washington, where your beauty shall
+command all hearts, your intellect carve for yourself a position, that
+a queen might envy."
+
+She made no reply, but her eyes were downcast, her beautiful forehead
+darkened by a shade of thought. Was she measuring the full force and
+meaning of his words?
+
+"In,--what--capacity--did--you--say?" she asked at length in a faint
+voice.
+
+"As my ward,--" responded Godlike; "you will be known as my ward,
+the heiress and daughter of a wealthy West Indian, who at his death,
+intrusted your person and fortune to my care. You will have your
+own mansion, your pair of servants, carriage and so-forth,--in fact,
+all the externals of a person of immense wealth. As my ward you will
+enter the first circles of society. The whole machinery of life at the
+Capital will be laid bare to your gaze, and with your hand upon the
+spring which sets that machinery in motion, you can command it to your
+will. You will not live, you will reign!"
+
+"Tell me something," said Esther, in a low voice, her bosom for a
+moment swelling above the scarlet border of her robe,--"Tell me
+something of life at the Capital,--life in Washington City."
+
+Godlike laughed until his broad chest shook again,--a deep sardonic
+laugh.
+
+"Poets have prated of the influence of woman, and most wildly! But
+life in Washington City distances the wildest dream of the poets.
+There woman is supreme. Never was her influence so absolute before,
+at any court,--neither at the court of Louis the Great, nor that of
+George the Fourth,--as at the plain republican court of Washington
+City. The simple people, afar off from Washington, think that it
+is the President, the Heads of the Department, the Senators and
+Representatives, who make the laws and wield the destinies of the
+republic. They think of great men sitting in council, by the midnight
+lamp, their hearts heavy, their eyes haggard with much watching over
+the welfare of the nation. Bah! when the real legislator is not a grave
+senator or solemn minister of state, but some lovely woman, armed
+only with a pair of bright eyes, and a soft musical voice. The grave
+legislators of the male gender, strut grandly in their robes of office,
+before the scenes,--and that poor dumb beast, the people, opens its big
+eyes, and stares and struts; but behind the scenes, it is woman who
+pulls the wires, makes the laws, and sets the nation going." He paused
+and laughed again. "Why, my child, I have known the gravest questions,
+in which the very fate of the nation was involved, decided upon, in
+senate or in cabinet, after long days and nights of council and debate,
+and,----knocked to pieces in an instant by the soft fingers of a pretty
+woman. It is red tape, _versus_ bright eyes in Washington City, and
+eyes always carry the day."
+
+"This is indeed a strange story you are telling me," said Esther, her
+eyes still downcast.
+
+Godlike for a moment surveyed himself in the mirror opposite, and
+laughed.
+
+"I vow I had quite forgotten, that I was arrayed in this singular
+costume,--scarlet tunic, edged with ermine, and so-forth,--it
+is something in the style of Borgia, and," he added to himself,
+surveying the somber visage and massive forehead, surmounted by iron
+gray hair,--"not so bad looking for a man of sixty! You think it
+impossible?" he continued aloud, turning to Esther, who had raised her
+hand thoughtfully to her forehead,--"why my dear child, a man who lives
+in Washington for any time, sees strange things. I have seen a husband
+purchase a mission by the gift of the person of a beautiful wife; I
+have seen a brother mount to office over the ruins of his sister's
+honor; I have seen a gray-haired father, when all his claims for
+position proved fruitless, place in the scale, the chastity of an only
+and beautiful daughter--and win. By ----!" he drew down his dark brows,
+until his eyes were scarcely visible, "How is it possible to look upon
+mankind with anything but contempt,--contempt and scorn!"
+
+"But," and Esther raised her eyes to that bronzed face, every lineament
+of which now worked with a look of indescribable scorn,--"you have
+genius,--the loftiest! you tower above the mass of men. You have
+influence,--an influence rarely given to any one man; it spans the
+continent; why not use your genius and influence to make men better?"
+
+There was something in her tone, which struck the heart of Godlike.
+The expression of intense scorn was succeeded by a look of sadness as
+intense. His brows rose, and his eyes looked forth, large, clear and
+dreamy. It was as though that dark countenance, seamed by the wrinkles
+of long years of sin, had been, for an instant, baptized with the hope
+and freshness of youth.
+
+"That was long ago; long ago; the dream of making men better. I felt it
+once,--tried to carry it into deeds. But the dream has long since past.
+I awakened from it many years ago. You see it is very pleasant to
+believe in the innate goodness of human nature, but attempt to carry it
+into action, and hark! do you not hear them, the very people, to whom
+yesterday you sacrificed your soul; hark! '_crucify him! crucify him!_'"
+
+He rose from the sofa, and the mirror reflected his majestic form, clad
+in the attire of Roderick Borgia, and his dark visage, stamped with
+genius on the giant forehead, and burning with the light of a giant
+soul in the lurid eyes. He was strangely agitated. His chest heaved
+beneath his masker's attire. There was an absent, dreamy look in his
+upraised eyes.
+
+"I used to think of it, and dream over it, in my college days,--of
+that history in which 'Hosanna!' is shouted to-day, and palm branches
+strewn; and to-morrow,--the hall of Pilate, the crown of thorns, the
+march up Calvary, and the felon's cross! I used, I say, to think and
+dream over it in my college days. As I looked around the world and
+surveyed history, and found the same story everywhere: found that for
+bold imposture and giant humbug, in every age, the world had riches,
+honor, fame, while in return, for any attempt to make it better, it had
+the cry, 'crucify! crucify!' it had the scourge, the crown of thorns,
+and the felon's cross."
+
+His voice swelled bold and deep through the silent room; as he uttered
+the last word, he raised his hand to his eyes, and for a moment was
+buried in the depth of his emotions. Esther, raising her eyes, regarded
+with looks of mingled admiration and awe, that forehead, upon which
+the veins stood forth bold and swollen,--the handwriting of the inward
+thought.
+
+"The devil is a very great fool," he said, with a burst of laughter,
+"to give himself so much trouble about a world which is not worth the
+damning." And then turning to Esther, he said bitterly: "Do you ask
+me why I utterly despise mankind, and why I have lost all faith in
+good? In the course of a long and somewhat tumultuous life, I have
+found one thing true,--whenever from a pure impulse, I have advocated
+a noble thought, or done a good deed, I have been hunted like a dog,
+and whenever from mere egotism, I have defended a bad principle, or
+achieved an infamous deed, I have been worshiped as a demigod. Yes, it
+is not for one's bad deeds that we are blamed; it is for the good, that
+condemnation falls upon us."
+
+He strode to the table, and filled a glass to the brim with blood-red
+Burgundy: "My beautiful Esther, your answer! Which do you choose?
+On the one hand want and persecution, on the other, position and
+power,--yes, on the one hand the life of the hunted pariah; on the
+other, sway of an absolute queen."
+
+He drained the glass, without removing it from his lips; then advancing
+to the sofa, he took her hands within his own, and raised her gently to
+her feet.
+
+"Esther, it is time to make your choice," he said, bending the force
+of his gaze upon that beautiful countenance: "which will you be? Your
+brother's slave, hunted at every step, and even doomed to be the pariah
+of the social world,--or, will you be the ward of Gabriel Godlike, the
+beautiful heiress of his West Indian friend, the unrivaled queen of
+life at the capital."
+
+Esther felt his burning gaze, and said with downcast eyes,--her voice
+very low and faint--"And in return for this generous protection, what
+am I to give you?"
+
+"Can you ask, my child?" he said, and pressed her hand within his
+own.--"You will be my friend, my counselor, my companion."
+
+"Companion?"
+
+"Wearied with the toils of state, the wear and tear of the world,--in
+your presence, I will seek oblivion of the world and its cares. With
+you I will grow young again, and--who knows--but guided by you, I
+shall, even at three-score, learn to hope in man? Your heart is fresh,
+your intellect clear and vivid: I shall often seek your counsel in
+affairs of state, for I have learned, that in nine cases out of ten,
+it is better to rely upon the _intuitions_ of woman, than upon the
+careful logic of the shrewdest man. In a word, dear child, you will be
+my companion,--my divinity"--
+
+"Divinity?"
+
+"Yes,--divinity! Tradition says that Lucretia Borgia was the most
+wondrously beautiful woman of all her age; and if yonder canvas does
+not flatter her, tradition does not lie. Now, you are living and more
+beautiful than Lucretia Borgia, without her crimes. Yes, more lovely
+than Lucretia, and,--pure as heaven's own light."
+
+"Pure as heaven's own light?"
+
+"You echo me,--and with a mocking smile. Woman! your beauty maddens
+me! I adore you!" His face was flushed with passion,--his deep-set
+eyes flamed with a fire that could not be mistaken,--his voice,
+at other times deep as an organ, was tremulous and broken. First
+pressing her clasped hands against his broad chest,--which heaved with
+emotion,--he next girdled her waist with his sinewy arm, and despite
+her struggles, drew her to his bosom. "Gaze upon yonder portrait! those
+eyes are wildly beautiful, but pale when compared with yours. That
+form is cast in the mould of voluptuous loveliness, but yours,--yours,
+Esther,--yours--"
+
+Advancing toward the portrait, he pushed the hangings aside,--the
+doorway of an adjoining apartment was revealed.
+
+"Come, Esther, by heavens you must be mine,--and now!"
+
+There was no mistaking the determination of that husky voice, the
+passion of that bloodshot eye.
+
+Now pale as death, now covered from the bosom to the brow with burning
+blushes, she struggled in his embrace, but in vain. He dragged her
+near and nearer to the threshold--on the threshold (which divided the
+Golden Room from the next apartment, where all was dark as midnight)
+he paused, drew her struggling form to his breast, and stifled the cry
+which rose to her lips, with burning kisses.
+
+With a desperate effort she glided from his arms, and the
+next moment,--her hair unloosed on her bosom bared in the
+struggle,--confronted him with the poniard gleaming over her head.
+
+"Hoary villain!" she cried, dilating in every inch of her stature,
+until she seemed to rival his almost giant height,--"lay but a finger
+on me and you shall pay for the outrage with your life!"
+
+Her head thrown back, her bared bosom swelling madly in the light,
+her dark hair resting in one rich, wavy mass upon her neck and
+shoulders,--it was a noble picture. And her eyes,--you should have seen
+the flashing of her eyes! As for the statesman, with one foot upon the
+threshold, he turned his face over his shoulder, thus exhibiting his
+massive features in profile, and gazed upon her with a look which was
+something between the sublime and the ridiculous; a strange mixture of
+passion, wonder and chagrin.
+
+"Esther,----"
+
+"No doubt you can induce husbands to sell their wives to you;" the
+eyes still flashed, and the poniard glittered overhead; "no doubt,
+gray-haired fathers have sold their daughters to your embrace; nay,
+even brothers, for a place, may have given their sisters to your
+lust; but know," again that bitter word so bitterly said,--'_hoary
+villain!_'--"know, hoary villain! that Esther Royalton will not sell
+herself to you, even to purchase her brother's safety, his life, much
+less her own! For know, that while there is a taint upon my blood, that
+there is blood in my veins which never knew dishonor, the blood of ----
+----, whose grandchild stands before you!"
+
+As she named that name, Godlike repeated it from pure astonishment.
+
+"You a statesman! you a leader of the American people! Faugh! (Back!
+Lay not a finger upon me as you value your life!) May God help the
+Republic whose leaders play the farce of solemn statesmanship by
+daylight, and at night seek their inspiration in the orgies of the
+brothel!"
+
+"But, Esther, you mistake me; do not raise your voice,----" his face
+flushed, his eyes bloodshot, he advanced toward her.
+
+At the same instant she caught the purpose of his eye, and with a blush
+of mingled shame and anger, for the first time became aware that her
+bosom was bared to the light.
+
+She retreated,--Godlike advanced,--she, brandishing the dagger,--he,
+with his hands extended, his face mad with baffled passion. Thus
+retreating, step by step before him, she reached the table, and cast a
+lightning glance toward the lamp.
+
+"You shall be mine, I swear it!" He darted forward.
+
+But while her right hand held the dagger aloft, her left sought the
+lamp, and even as he rushed forward with the oath on his lips, the
+room was wrapt in utter darkness.
+
+He was foiled. A mocking laugh, which resounded through the darkness,
+did not add to his composure.
+
+"Esther, Esther," he said, in a softer tone, endeavoring to smother his
+rage, "I will not harm you, I swear it."
+
+And with his hands extended he advanced in the thick gloom; and Esther,
+with the handle of her poniard, knocked thrice upon the ebony table.
+
+"Dearest Esther,"--he advanced in the direction from whence the
+knocks proceeded, and came in contact with a form,--the form of a
+voluptuous woman, with a young bosom warm with life, and young limbs
+moulded in the flowing lines of the Medicean Venus? No. Precisely the
+contrary. But he came in contact with a brawny form, which bounded
+against him, pinioning his arms to his side, at the same moment that
+another brawny form clasped him from behind. In a moment, ere he had
+recovered the surprise caused by this double and unexpected embrace,
+his arms were tied behind his back, a handkerchief was tightly bound
+across his mouth, and a second kerchief across his eyes, he was lifted
+from his feet, and borne upon the shoulders of two muscular men. It
+was not dignified or statesmanlike, but,--historical truth demands
+the record,--while in this position, the grave statesman kicked,
+deliberately and wickedly kicked. But he kicked in vain.
+
+Presently he was placed upon his feet again, and seated in a chair
+whose oaken back reached above his head, and whose oaken arms pressed
+against his sides. He could not see, but he felt that light was shining
+on his face.
+
+So suddenly had his capture been achieved, so strange and complete
+was the transition from the pursuit of the beautiful Esther, to his
+present blindfolded and helpless condition, that the statesman, for a
+few moments, almost believed himself the victim of some grotesque and
+frightful dream.
+
+All was silent around him.
+
+At length a voice was heard, hollow and distinct in its every tone,--
+
+"Gabriel Godlike, you are now about to be put on trial before the Court
+of Ten Millions."
+
+There was a long pause; and Godlike, on the moment, remembered every
+detail which Harry Royalton had poured into his ears, concerning
+this Court of Ten Millions; its power backed by ten millions of
+dollars,--its jurisdiction over crimes that 'Courts of Justice' could
+not reach,--its sessions held in the deep silence of night, and its
+judgments executed as soon as pronounced. Vividly the story of Harry
+rose before him; the accusation, the trial, the judgment, the lash, and
+the back of the criminal covered with stripes and blood.
+
+"The Court of Ten Millions,"--the voice was heard again,--"as you are,
+doubtless, aware, is thus called, because its power is backed by ten
+millions of dollars. It exists to punish those crimes which, perchance,
+from their very magnitude, go unpunished by other courts of justice.
+It exists to judge and punish two classes of crime in especial: crimes
+committed for the _love of money_, by the man who seeks to enjoy
+_labor's fruits_, without sharing _labor's works_; crimes committed
+by the man who uses his _wealth_, or _the accident of his social
+position_, as the means of oppressing his fellow-creature, even the
+poorest and the meanest. Your mind is profound in analysis. You are
+able, at a glance, to trace nearly all the wrongs which desolate
+society, and mar the purposes of God in this world, to the classes of
+crimes which have been named."
+
+There was another long pause. Gabriel had time for thought.
+
+"Gabriel Godlike! Detected in a gross outrage upon a woman whom you
+thought poor and friendless,--detected in using your wealth and your
+social position as the means of achieving that woman's dishonor, you
+are now about to be put on trial before the Court of Ten Millions."
+
+Another pause. Gabriel began to recover his scattered senses. The
+bandage across his mouth concealed the sardonic smile which flitted
+over his lips.
+
+"A sort of _Vixhme Gericht_,--something from the dark ages,"--he
+ejaculated, mentally. And yet he did not feel comfortable. There was
+Harry Royalton's back; he had seen it. "But _they_ would not dare to
+flog a statesman,--me! Gabriel Godlike!"
+
+"Still you are at liberty to refuse a trial before this court,"--the
+voice spoke again,--"but upon one condition. In a room not far removed
+from this, removed from hearing, and yet within a moment's call, are
+gathered at this moment a number of gentlemen, who have been summoned
+to this house on various pretexts; gentlemen, you will remark, of all
+political parties, high in social position, and bearing the reputation
+of honorable minded and moral men. Your strongest political friends,
+your bitterest political opponents are there."
+
+Gabriel began to listen with attention.
+
+"Now you may refuse to be tried before this court on one
+condition,--that you will be exposed to the gaze of this party of
+gentlemen, in your present state, with your masquerade attire, and in
+presence of the woman whom, but a moment since, you threatened with a
+gross outrage."
+
+Gabriel listened with keener interest.
+
+"If you doubt that this party of gentlemen, consisting of--(he named a
+number of names familiar to Godlike's ear)--are within call, your doubt
+can be solved in a moment."
+
+"It is an infernal trap," and Gabriel ground his teeth with suppressed
+rage.
+
+"If you consent to be tried by this court, be pleased to give a gesture
+of assent."
+
+Gabriel revolved for a moment within himself, and then slowly nodded
+his head.
+
+The bandage was removed from his eyes, and the kerchief from his mouth.
+He slowly surveyed the scene in which, much against his will, he found
+himself an actor.
+
+It was a spacious apartment, resembling the Golden Room, the walls
+were hung with black velvet, fringed with gold, and dotted with golden
+flowers; the ceiling represented a gloomy sky, with the sun in the
+center, struggling among clouds. It was the same to which he was about
+to conduct Esther when she escaped from his arms and confronted him
+with the poniard.
+
+But in place of the voluptuous couch which had stood there, with
+silken pillows and canopy white as snow, there was a large table
+covered with black cloth, and extending across the room from wall
+to wall, and behind the table a raised platform, on which stood an
+arm-chair, beneath a canopy of dark velvet. A lighted candle in an iron
+candlestick, stood on the center of the table, and near it, a knotted
+rope, a book, an inkstand, and a sheet of white paper.
+
+The judge of the court was seated in the arm-chair, under the shadow
+of the canopy. His face Godlike could not see, for he wore a hat whose
+ample brim concealed his features, but his white hair descended to the
+collar of his coat. He wore an old-fashioned surtout of dark cloth,
+with manifold capes, about the shoulders. His head was bent, his hands
+clasped, his attitude that of profound quiet or profound thought.
+
+On his left, resting one hand on the arm of his chair, was Esther; her
+white dress in bold relief with the dark background. Her unbound hair
+increased the death-like pallor of her face, and her eyes shone with all
+their fire.
+
+And on the right of the judge stood a huge negro, whose giant frame
+was clad in a suit of sleek blue cloth, while his white cravat and
+his wool, also of snow-like whiteness, increased the blackness of his
+visage. It was, of course, old Royal. He also rested one hand on an arm
+of the judge's chair.
+
+And on the right and left of Gabriel's chair, stood a muscular man,
+whose features were hidden by a crape mask.
+
+The scene altogether was highly dramatic. The Borgian attire of Godlike
+by no means detracted from its dramatic effect.
+
+The silence of the place,--the gloom scarcely broken by the light of
+the solitary candle,--the contrast between this scene and the one in
+which he had been an actor but a few moments previous,--all had their
+effect upon the mind of the statesman.
+
+"A trap! get out of it as I may. An infernal trap!"
+
+Without raising his head, or removing his clasped hands from his
+breast, the judge spoke, in an even and distinct, although hollow
+voice,--
+
+"You may still refuse to be tried by this court. Consent to be exposed
+in your present condition to the gentlemen whom I have named, (and who
+may be brought hither in an instant), and the trial will not proceed."
+
+The blood rushed to Gabriel's face, but he made no reply.
+
+"Or, if you doubt that those gentlemen are near, it is not too late to
+remove your doubts."
+
+The veins began to swell on Gabriel's forehead.
+
+"Go on," he said, in a half-smothered tone.
+
+The judge extended his hand and placed a parchment in the hands of
+Esther.
+
+"Read the accusation," he said, and in a voice at first low and faint,
+but gradually growing stronger and deeper, Esther read, while a
+death-like stillness prevailed:
+
+"Gabriel Godlike is accused of the following offenses against man,
+against society, against God:--
+
+"As a man of genius, intrusted by the Almighty with the noblest, the
+most exalted powers, and bound to use those powers for the good of his
+race, he has, in the course of his whole life, prostituted those powers
+to the degradation and oppression of his race.
+
+"As a statesman, rivaling in intellect the three great names of the
+nineteenth century, Clay, Calhoun and Webster, he has not, like
+these great men, been governed by a high aim, an earnest-souled
+sincerity. His intellect approaches theirs in powers, but as a man,
+as a statesman, he has not exhibited their virtues. Wielding a vast
+influence, and bound to use that influence in securing to the masses
+such laws as will invest every man with the right to the full fruits
+of his labor, and the possession of a home, he has lent his influence,
+sold his intellect, mortgaged his official position, to those who
+enslave labor in workshop and factory, defraud it in banks, and rob
+the laborer--the freeman--of a piece of land which he may call by the
+sacred title of home.
+
+"As a lawyer, having a profound knowledge of the technicalities of
+written law, and an intuitive knowledge of that great law of God, which
+proclaims that all men are brothers, bound to each other by ties of
+reciprocal love and duty, he has used his knowledge of written law
+to gloss over and sanction the grossest wrongs; he has darkened and
+distorted the great laws of God to suit any case of social tyranny, no
+matter how damning, how revolting, which he has been called upon to
+defend for hire.
+
+"As a citizen, bound to illustrate in his life the purity of the
+Christian, the integrity of the republican, he has never known the
+affections of a wife, or children, but his private career has been one
+long catalogue of the basest appetites, gratified at the expense of
+every tie of truth and honor.
+
+"In his long career, he has exhibited that saddest of all
+spectacles:--a lawyer, with no sense of right or wrong, higher than
+his fee; a statesman, regarding himself not as the representative of
+the people, but as the feed and purchased lawyer of a class; a man of
+god-like intellect, without faith in God, without love for his race."
+
+Esther concluded; her face was radiant, but her eyes dimmed with tears.
+
+"Gabriel Godlike, what say you to this accusation?" exclaimed the judge.
+
+A sardonic smile agitated the lips of the statesman, but he made
+no reply in words. At the same time, despite his attempt to meet
+the accusation with a sneer, its words rung in his very soul, and
+especially the closing clause, "_without faith in God, without love to
+his race_."
+
+Gabriel's head sank slowly on his breast, and his down-drawn brows hid
+his eyes from the light. He was thinking of other years; of the promise
+of his young manhood; of the dark realities of his maturer years. The
+judge spoke again.
+
+"Gabriel Godlike, you are silent. You have no reply. In your own soul
+and before Heaven, you know that every word of the accusation is true.
+You cannot deny it. Your own soul and conscience convict you."
+
+He paused; again the mocking sneer crossed Gabriel's lips, but a crowd
+of emotions were busy at his heart. The judge proceeded, in a measured
+tone. Every word fell distinctly upon the statesman's unwilling ears:
+
+"Gabriel Godlike, you may smile at the idea of being held accountable
+to God and man, for the use which you have made of your talents in the
+last forty years, but there will come an hour when History will pass
+its judgment upon you; there will come an hour when God will demand of
+you the intellect which he has intrusted to your care. That hour will
+come. Then, what will be your answer to Almighty God? 'Lord, thou
+didst intrust me with superior intellect, to be used for the good of my
+brothers of the human family; and after a life of sixty years, I can
+truly say, I have never once used that intellect for the elevation of
+mankind, and have never once failed, when appetite or ambition tempted,
+to squander it in the basest lusts.' What a record will this be for
+history; what an answer to be rendered to Almighty God!
+
+"Gabriel Godlike! Great men are placed upon earth, as the prophets
+and apostles of the poor. It is their vocation to speak the wrongs
+which the poor suffer, but are unable to tell; it is their mission to
+find the deepest thought which God has implanted in the breast of the
+age, and to carry that thought into action, or die. What has been the
+thought struggling in the bosom of the last fifty years? A thought vast
+as the providence of God, which, whether called by the name of Social
+Progress, or Social Re-organization, or by whatsoever name, still looks
+forward to the day when social misery will be annihilated; when the
+civilization will no longer show itself only in the awful contrast of
+the few, immersed in superfluous wealth,--of the many, immersed in
+poverty, in crime, in despair; a day, when in truth, the gospel of the
+New Testament will no longer be the hollow echo of the sounding-board
+above the pulpit, but an every-day verity, carried with deeds along all
+the ways of life, and manifested in the physical comfort as well as the
+moral elevation of all men.
+
+"Something like this has been the thought of the last fifty--yes, of
+the last hundred years. It was the secret heart of our own Revolution.
+It was the great truth, whose features you may read even beneath the
+blood-red waves of the French Revolution. And in the nineteenth century
+this thought has called into action legions of noble-hearted men, who
+have earnestly endeavored to carry it into action. It has had its
+confessors, its saints, its martyrs.
+
+"Gabriel Godlike! In the course of your long career, what have you done
+to aid the development of this thought? Alas! alas! Look back upon your
+life! In all your career, not one brave blow for man--your brother--not
+one, not one! As a lawyer, the hired vassal of any wealthy villain, or
+class of villains; as a legislator, not a statesman, but always the
+paid special pleader of heartless monopoly and godless capital; as a
+man, your intellect always towers among the stars, while your moral
+character sinks beneath the kennel's mud! Such has been your life;
+such is the use to which you have bent your powers. Like the sublime
+egotist, Napoleon Bonaparte, you regarded the world as a world without
+a God, and mankind as the mere creatures of your pleasure and your
+sport. If the poor wretch, who, driven mad by hunger, steals a loaf of
+bread, is branded as a CRIMINAL, and adjudged to darkness and chains,
+by what name, Gabriel Godlike, shall we call _you_? what judgment shall
+_we_ pronounce upon your head?"
+
+The judge arose, and with his face shaded from the light, and his
+white hairs falling to his shoulders, he extended his hand toward the
+CRIMINAL.
+
+There was a blush of _shame_ upon Gabriel's downcast forehead; shame,
+mingled with suppressed rage.
+
+"Shall we adjudge you to the lash?" and the judge looked first to
+Gabriel, then to the giant negro by his side.
+
+Godlike raised his head; Esther shuddered as she beheld his look.
+
+"The lash!" he echoed,--"No, by ----! The man does not live who dares
+speak of such a thing."
+
+"I live, and I speak of it," responded the judge, calmly. "You forget
+that you are in my power; and, as you are well aware, (it is a maxim
+upon which you have acted all your life,) 'MIGHT MAKES RIGHT.' And why
+should you shudder at the mention of the lash? What is the torture, the
+disgrace of the lash, compared with the torture and disgrace which your
+deeds have inflicted upon thousands of your fellow men?"
+
+Godlike uttered a frightful oath.--"You will drive me mad!" and he
+ground his teeth in impotent rage. It was a pitiful condition for a
+great statesman.
+
+"No, no; the lash is too light a punishment for a criminal of your
+magnitude. Prisoner, stand up and hear the sentence of the court!"
+
+Gabriel had a powerful will, but the will which spoke in the voice of
+that old man, his judge, was more powerful than his own. Reluctantly
+he arose to his feet, his broad chest panting and heaving beneath its
+scarlet attire.
+
+"Unbind his arms." The masked attendants obeyed. Gabriel's bands were
+free.
+
+"Secure him, at the first sign of resistance or of disobedience."
+
+The judge calmly proceeded--
+
+"Gabriel Godlike, hear the sentence of the court. You will affix your
+own proper signature to two documents, which will now be presented to
+you. After which you are free."
+
+Gabriel could not repress an ejaculation. The simplicity of the
+sentence struck him with astonishment.
+
+"Hand the prisoner the first document, which he may read," said the
+judge. Pale and trembling, Esther advanced, and, passing the table,
+placed a paper in the hands of Godlike, which he read:
+
+ "NEW YORK, Dec. 24th, 1844.
+
+ "The undersigned, Gabriel Godlike, hereby acknowledges that he was
+ this day detected in the act of attempting a gross outrage upon
+ the person of Esther Royalton, whom he had inveigled to a house of
+ improper report, No. --, ---- street, New York: an outrage which,
+ investigated before a court of law, would justly consign him to the
+ State's Prison.
+
+ "Signed in presence of:
+ {
+ {."
+
+No words can picture the rage which corrugated Godlike's visage as he
+perused this singular document.
+
+"No, I will not sign!"--he fixed his flaming eyes upon Esther's pallid
+face--"not if you rend me into fragments."
+
+"Esther," said the judge, calmly, "call the gentlemen from the
+neighboring apartment. Tell them that the purpose for which I summoned
+them will be explained in this room."
+
+Esther cast a glance upon Godlike's flushed visage, and moved to the
+door,--
+
+"Stay! I will--I will!" Shame and mortification choked his utterance.
+He advanced to the table and signed his name to the paper.
+
+The judge drew his broad-brimmed hat deeper over his brows, and
+advanced to the table.--"I will witness your signature," he quietly
+observed, and signed a name which Godlike would have given five years
+of his life to have read.
+
+"The second document rests on the table before you. The writing is
+concealed by a sheet of paper. You will sign without reading it. There
+is the place for your signature." And he pushed the concealed document
+across the table.
+
+"This is too much,--it is infamous," said Godlike, between his teeth.
+"How do I know what I am signing? I will not do it." He sank back
+doggedly in his chair; the perspiration stood in thick beads upon his
+brow.
+
+"Esther," (she lingered on the threshold, as the judge addressed her,)
+"tell Mr. Godlike's friends that he will be glad to see them."
+
+Oh! bitterly, in that moment, did the fallen statesman pay for the
+misdeeds of years! As if urged from his seat by an influence beyond
+his control, he rose and advanced to the table, his brow deformed by
+the big veins of helpless rage, his eyes bloodshot with suppressed
+fury,--he signed his name. His hand trembled like a leaf.
+
+"Now, now--am I free?" he cried, beating the table with his clenched
+hand. "Have you done with me?" He turned his gaze from Esther, who
+stood trembling on the threshold, to the judge, who, with his shadowed
+face, stood calm and composed before him.
+
+"I will witness your signature," said the judge, and again signed that
+name, which Godlike, even amid his wrath, endeavored, and in vain, to
+read.
+
+At the same instant he placed his hand upon the candle, and all was
+darkness. In less time than it takes to record it, Godlike was seized,
+pinioned and blindfolded.
+
+"You will be taken to your dressing-room, in which you will resume your
+usual attire, after which, without questioning or seeing any one, you
+will quietly leave this house. As for the gentlemen whom I summoned to
+this house to look upon your disgrace, I will manage to dismiss them,
+without mentioning your name."
+
+"And the papers which you have forced me to sign?" interrupted Gabriel.
+
+"Do not speak of force. There was no force save the compulsion of your
+own crimes. And I give you fair warning that those papers which you
+have signed here in darkness, you will be asked to sign yet once again
+in broad daylight. Go, sir: for the present we have done with you."
+
+And as in thick darkness he was led from the hall, trembling with rage
+and shame, the voice of the judge once more broke on his ears, but this
+time not addressed to him:
+
+"Pity, good Lord! Pardon me, if I am wrong!"
+
+It was the voice of earnest prayer.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+THE BRIDAL CHAMBER.
+
+
+It was the bridal chamber. A strange hour, and a strange bridal!
+
+In the luxurious apartment, where Nameless and Frank first met, a Holy
+Bible was placed wide open upon a table, or altar, covered with a
+snow-white cloth. On either side of the book were placed wax candles,
+shedding their clear light around the room, upon the details of the
+place, and upon the gorgeous curtains of the marriage-bed.
+
+Frank and Nameless joined hands beside that altar, before the opened
+Bible. Never had Frank's magnetic beauty shone with such peculiar
+power. She was clad in black velvet, her dark hair gathered plainly
+aside from her brow, and the white cross rose and fell with every throb
+of her bosom. Nameless wore the black tunic which, with his dark brown
+hair, threw his features into strong relief. The golden cross hung on
+his breast, over his heart. He was pale, as if with intense thought,
+but his large, gray eyes met the gaze of Frank, as though his soul was
+riveted there.
+
+And thus they joined hands, near the morning hour.
+
+The Rev. Dr. Bulgin stood a little in the background, his broad red
+face glowing in the light. His cardinal's attire thrown aside, he
+appeared in sleek black, with the eternal white cravat about his neck.
+There was the flush of champagne upon the good doctor's florid face.
+
+Behind Nameless stood Colonel Tarleton, dressed as the hidalgo, his
+right hand grasping a roll of paper, raised to his mouth, and his eyes
+gazing fixedly from beneath his down-drawn brows. It was _the_ moment
+of his life.
+
+"Once married and the way is clear!" he thought. "To think of it--after
+twenty-one years my hand grasps the prize!"
+
+"We will walk through life together," said Frank, pressing the hand of
+Nameless.
+
+"And devote our wealth to the elevation of the unfortunate and the
+fallen!" he responded, as a vision of future good gave new fire to his
+eye. And then he pressed his hand to his forehead, for his temples
+throbbed. A vivid memory of every event of his past life started up
+suddenly before his soul, every event invested with the familiar
+faces, the well-known voices of other days. He raised his eyes to
+the face of Frank, and the singular influence which seemed to invest
+her like an atmosphere, again took possession of him. It was not the
+influence of passion, nor the spell of her mere loveliness, although
+her person was voluptuously moulded, and the deep red in the center of
+her rich brown cheek, told the story of a warm and passionate nature;
+but it was as though her very soul, embodied in her lustrous eyes,
+encircled and possessed his own.
+
+Was it love, in the common acceptation of the word? Was it fascination?
+Was it the result of sympathy between two lives, each of which had been
+made the sport of a dark and singular destiny?
+
+"Had not we better go on?" said Dr. Bulgin, mildly. "Summoned to this
+house to celebrate these nuptials at this unusual hour, I feel somewhat
+fatigued with the duties of the day," and he winked at Tarleton.
+
+"Proceed," said Tarleton, pressing the right hand, with the roll of
+paper to his lip.
+
+The marriage service was deliberately said in the rich, bold voice of
+the eloquent Dr. Bulgin. The responses were duly made. The ring was
+placed upon the finger of the bride, and the white cross sparkled in
+the light, as it rose with the swell of her proud bosom.
+
+"Husband," she whispered, as their lips met, "I have been sacrificed to
+others, but I never loved but you, and I will love you till I die." And
+she spoke the truth.
+
+"Wife!"--he called that sacred name in a low and softened voice,--"let
+the past be forgotten. Arisen from the graves of our past lives, it
+is our part to begin life anew." And his tone was that of truth and
+enthusiasm.
+
+"My son!"--Tarleton started forward and clasped Nameless by the
+hand,--"Gulian, my son, let the past be forgotten,--forgiven, and let
+us look only to the future! The proudest aspiration of my life is
+fulfilled!"
+
+Nameless returned his grasp with a cordial pressure; but at the same
+instant a singular sensation crept like a chill through his blood. Was
+the presence of the dead father near at the moment when his son joined
+hands with the false brother?
+
+"Here, my boy," continued Tarleton, laughingly, as he spread forth
+upon the table the roll of paper which he had held to his lip; "sign
+this, and we will bid you good night. It's a mere matter of form, you
+know. Nay, Frank, you must not see it; you women know nothing of these
+matters of business." Motioning his daughter back, he placed pen and
+ink before Nameless, and then quietly arranged his dark whiskers and
+smoothed his black hair; and yet his hand trembled.
+
+Nameless took the pen, and bent over the table and read:--
+
+ DECEMBER 24, 1844.
+
+ TO DR. MARTIN FULMER:--
+
+ _This day I transfer and assign to my wife, Frances Van Huyden, all my
+ right, title, and interest in the estate of my deceased father, Gulian
+ Van Huyden; and hereby promise, on my word of honor, to hold this
+ transfer sacred at all times, and to make it binding (if requested),
+ by a document drawn up according to the forms of law._
+
+Nameless dipped the pen in the ink, and was about to sign, when Frank
+suddenly drew the paper from beneath his hand. She read it with a
+kindling cheek and flashing eye.
+
+"For shame!" she cried, turning to her father, "for shame!" and was
+about to rend it in twain, when Nameless seized her wrist, and took the
+paper from her hand.
+
+"Nay, Frank, I will sign," he exclaimed, and put the pen to the paper.
+
+"O, father," whispered Frank, with a glance of burning indignation,
+"this is too much--" Her words were interrupted by the sudden opening
+of the door.
+
+"Is there no way of escape,--none?"--a voice was heard exclaiming these
+words, in tones of fright and madness,--"Is there no way of escape from
+this abode of ruin and death?"
+
+The pen dropped from the hand of Nameless. That voice congealed the
+blood in his veins.
+
+Turning his head over his shoulders, he saw the speaker,--while
+the whole scene swam for a moment before his eyes,--saw that young
+countenance, now wild with affright, on which was imprinted the
+stainless beauty of a pure and virgin soul.
+
+"The grave has given up its dead!" he cried, and staggered toward the
+phantom which rose between him and the door; the phantom of a young and
+beautiful woman, clad in the faded garments of poverty and toil; her
+unbound hair streaming wildly about her face, her eyes dilating with
+terror, her clasped hands strained against her agitated bosom.
+
+"The grave has given up its dead," he cried. "Mary!" O, how that name
+awoke the memories of other days! "Mary! when last I saw thee, thou
+wert beside my coffin, while my soul communed with thine." And again he
+called that sacred name.
+
+It was no phantom, but a living and beautiful woman. She saw his
+face,--she uttered a cry,--she knew him.
+
+"Gulian!" she cried, and spread forth her arms. Not one thought that he
+had died and been buried,--she saw him living,--she knew him,--he was
+before her,--that was all. "Husband!"
+
+He rushed to her embrace, but even as his arms were outspread to clasp
+her form, he fell on his knees. His head rested against her form, his
+hands clasped her knees. The emotion of the moment had been too much
+for him; he had fainted at her feet.
+
+She knelt beside him, and took his head to her bosom, and pressed her
+lips against his death-like forehead, and then her loosened hair hid
+his face from the light. She wept aloud.
+
+"Husband!"
+
+At this moment turn your gaze to the marriage altar. Dr. Bulgin is
+still there, gazing in dumb surprise, first upon the face of Frank,
+then upon her father. It is hard to tell which looks most ghastly
+and death-like. Tarleton looks like a man who has been stricken by a
+thunderbolt. Frank rests one hand upon the marriage altar, and raises
+the other to her forehead. For a moment death seems busy at her heart.
+
+With a desperate effort, Tarleton rallies his presence of mind.
+
+"Good evening, or, rather, good morning, doctor," he says, and then
+points to the door. The reverend gentleman takes the hint, and quietly
+fades from the room.
+
+At times like this, one moment of resolve is worth an age. Tarleton's
+face is colorless, but he sees, with an ominous light in his eyes,
+the way clear before him. He turns aside for a moment, to the cabinet
+yonder, and from a small drawer, takes a slender vial, filled with a
+colorless liquid; then quietly glides to his daughter's side.
+
+"Frank!"--she raises her head,--their eyes meet. He holds the vial
+before her face--"your husband has fainted; this will revive him." That
+singular smile discloses his white teeth. Frank reads his meaning at
+a glance. O, the unspeakable agony,--the conflict between two widely
+different emotions, which writhes over her face!
+
+"No, father, no! It must not be," and she pushes the vial from her
+sight.
+
+His words, uttered rapidly, and in a whisper, come through his set
+teeth,--"It must be,--the game cannot be lost now; in twelve hours, you
+know, this vial will do its work, and _leave no sign_!"
+
+An expression which he cannot read, crosses her face. A moment of
+profound and harrowing thought,--a glance at the kneeling girl, who
+hides in her flowing hair, the face of her unconscious husband.
+
+"Be it so," Frank exclaims, "give me the vial; I will administer it."
+Taking the vial from her father's hand, she advances to the cabinet,
+and for a moment bends over the open drawer.
+
+And the next instant she is kneeling beside Nameless and the weeping
+girl.
+
+"Mary!" whispers Frank, and the young wife raises her face from her
+husband's forehead, and they gaze in each other's face,--a contrast
+which you do not often behold. The face of Frank, dark-hued at other
+times, and red with passion on the cheek and lip, but now, lividly
+pale, and only expressing the intensity of her organization in the
+lightning glance of the eyes,--the face of Mary, although touched by
+want and sorrow, bearing the look of a guileless, _happy_ soul in every
+outline, and shining all the love of a pure woman's nature from the
+large, clear eyes. It was as though night and morning had met together.
+
+"Mary!" said Frank,--her hand trembling, but her purpose firm,--"your
+husband will die unless aid is rendered at once. Let me revive him."
+
+Before Mary can frame a word in reply, she places the vial to the
+lips of Nameless, and does not remove her hand until the last drop is
+emptied. Tarleton yonder watches the scene, with his head drooping on
+his breast, and his hand raised to his chin.
+
+"He will revive presently," Frank exclaims with a smile.
+
+"God bless you, generous woman,----"
+
+But Frank does not wait to receive her thanks.
+
+Returning to her father's side,--"Come, let us leave them, _now_," she
+whispers; "_now_ that your request is obeyed."
+
+"But he must not die in this house."
+
+"O, you will have time, ample time to remove him before the vial has
+done its work,"--a bitter smile crosses her face,--"Leave them together
+for an hour at least. Let them at least enjoy one hour of life, before
+his eyes are closed in death; only one hour, father!"
+
+She takes her father by the hand, and hurries him from the room,--let
+us not dare to read the emotions now contending on her corpse-like
+face. From that room, which was to have been her bridal chamber,--the
+starting-point of a new and happy life!
+
+"I must now see after the _other_," Tarleton soliloquizes, as he
+crossed the threshold. "_This one_ removed, _the other_ must be ready
+for _to-morrow_."
+
+And Frank and her father leave the room.
+
+The chest of Nameless began to heave,--his eyes gradually unclosed.
+With a vacant glance he surveyed the apartment.
+
+"It is a dream," he said.
+
+But there were arms about his neck, kisses on his lips, a warm cheek
+laid next to his own. Certainly not the clasp, the kiss, or the
+pressure of a dream.
+
+"Not in a dream, Carl," she said, calling, him by the name which he had
+borne in other days.
+
+"Carl? Who calls me Carl?"
+
+"Not in a dream, Carl, but living and restored to me."
+
+Even as he lay in her arms, his head resting on her young bosom, he
+raised his eyes and beheld her face.
+
+"Mary!"
+
+"Thou art my husband!"
+
+"Thou art my wife!"
+
+That moment was a full recompense for all they had suffered, yes, for
+a lifetime of suffering and anguish. They forgot everything,--the
+dark past,--the strange chance or providence which had brought them
+together,--they only felt that they were living and in each other's
+arms.
+
+At sight of the pure, holy face of Mary, all consciousness of the
+fascination which Frank had held over him, passed like the memory of a
+dream from the soul of Nameless.
+
+"O, Mary, wife, thou art living,--God is good," he said, as she bent
+over him, baptizing his lips with kisses, and his face with tears.
+"Do you remember that hour, when I lay in the coffin, while you bent
+over me, and our souls talked to each other, without the medium of
+words: 'you have seen him for the last time,' they said; 'not for the
+last time,--we will meet again,' was your reply. And now we have met!
+Mary--wife! let us never accuse Providence again, for God is good!"
+
+Moment of joy too deep for words.
+
+Drink every drop of the cup, now held to your lips, Carl Raphael! For
+even, as the arms of your young wife are about your neck, even as her
+young bosom throbs against your cheek, and you count the beatings of
+her heart, death spreads his shadow over you. The poison is in your
+veins,--your young life is about to set in this world forever.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+THE SCARLET CHAMBER.
+
+
+Having once more resumed the attire of Leo the Tenth,--scarlet robe,
+cap, with nodding plumes and cross with golden chain; Dr. Bulgin was
+hurrying along a dark passage on his way to the Scarlet Chamber,
+where his nephew awaited him. The Scarlet Chamber was at the end of
+the passage; as he drew near it, the Doctor's reflections grew more
+pleasant and comfortable. It may be as well to make record, that after
+he had left the Bridal Chamber, he had refreshed himself with a fresh
+bottle of champagne.
+
+"Odd scene that in the room of Tarleton's daughter! Very
+dramatic,--wish I knew what it all meant. However my 'nephew;'" a rich
+chuckle resounded from the depths of his chest--"'my nephew' awaits
+me, and after another bottle in the Scarlet Chamber, I must see _her_
+safely home. It is not such a bad world after all."
+
+Thus soliloquizing he arrived at the end of the passage, and his head
+was laid against the door of the Scarlet Chamber.
+
+"Cozy place,--bottle of wine,--good company--"
+
+"Hush!" whispered a voice.
+
+"That you Julia? What are you doing out here in the dark?" he wound his
+arms about his nephew's waist. "Waiting for me?"
+
+"Do not,--do not," she gasped, struggling to free herself from his
+arms,--"Do not enter,--"
+
+"Tush, child! you're nervous,--" and despite the struggles, he gathered
+his arm closer around her waist, pushed open the door and entered the
+Scarlet Room.
+
+A quiet little apartment, lighted by a hanging lamp, whose mild beams
+softened the glare of the rich scarlet hangings. There was a sofa
+covered with red velvet, a table, on which stood a bottle, with two
+long necked glasses, and from an interval in the hangings, gleamed the
+vision of a snow-white couch. Altogether, a place worthy the private
+devotions of Leo the Tenth, or of any gentleman of his exquisite taste,
+and eccentric piety.
+
+"What's the matter child? You're pale, and have been crying,--"
+exclaimed Bulgin, as he bore her over the threshold, and paused for
+a moment to gaze upon her face, which was bare to the light, the cap
+having fallen from her brow. As he spoke his back was to the sofa.
+
+"There," was the only word which she had power to frame, and bursting
+into tears, she pointed over his shoulders to the sofa.
+
+Somewhat surprised, Dr. Bulgin turned on his heel, the white plumes
+nodding over his bulky face, and,----
+
+There are some scenes which must be left to the imagination.
+
+On the sofa, sat three grave gentlemen, clad in solemn black, their
+severe features, rendered even more stern and formal, by the relief of
+a white cravat. Each of these gentlemen held his hat in one hand, and
+in the other a cane, surmounted by a head of white bone.
+
+As Bulgin turned, the three gentlemen quietly rose, and said politely,
+with one voice:
+
+"Good morning Dr. Bulgin."
+
+And then as quietly sat down again.
+
+The Doctor looked as though he had been lost in a railroad collision.
+He was paralyzed. He had not even the presence of mind, to release the
+grasp which gathered the young form of his lovely nephew to his side.
+
+The exact position of affairs, at this crisis, will be better
+understood, when you are informed, that in these three gentlemen, the
+Rev. Dr. Bulgin recognized Mr. Watkins, Mr. Potts, and Mr. Burns, the
+leading members, perchance Deacons of his wealthy congregation. The one
+with the slight form, and short stiff gray, hair,--Watkins. Mr. Potts,
+is a small man, with a bald head, and the slightest tendency in the
+world to corpulence. Mr. Burns is tall and lean, with angular features,
+and an immense nose. Altogether, as grave and respectable men as you
+will meet in a day's walk, from Wall Street, to the head of Broadway.
+But what do they in the TEMPLE, at any time, but especially at this
+unusual hour?
+
+That was precisely the question which troubled Bulgin.
+
+"W-e-l-l Gentle-m-e-n," he said, not exactly knowing what else to say.
+
+To which they all responded with a singular unanimity,--"W-e-l-l
+D-o-c-t-o-r!"
+
+"Did not I,--did not I,--tell,--tell you not to come in here?" sobbed
+the nephew,--that is Julia.
+
+Mr. Watkins arose and passed his hand through his stiff gray hair,--
+
+"Allow me to compliment you upon the becoming character of your
+costume!" and sat down again.
+
+Then Mr. Potts, whose bald head shone in the light as he rose,--
+
+"And allow me to congratulate you upon the character of this house, and
+especially the elegant seclusion of this chamber." And Mr. Potts sat
+down.
+
+Mr. Burns' lean form next ascended, and his nose seemed to increase in
+size, as he projected it in a low bow,--
+
+"And allow me,--" what a deep voice! "to congratulate you upon the
+society of your companion, who becomes her male attire exceedingly."
+And Mr. Burns gravely resumed his seat.
+
+"Did--I--not--tell, tell--you,--n-o-t to come in," sobbed Julia.
+
+The Doctor's face was partly hidden by his plumes, but that portion of
+it which was visible, resembled nothing so much in color, as a boiled
+lobster.
+
+It now occurred to the Doctor, to release his grasp upon the waist of
+Julia. He left her to herself, and she fell on her knees, burying her
+face in her hands. As for the Doctor himself, he _slid_ slowly into a
+chair, never once removing his gaze, from the three gentlemen on the
+sofa. Thus confronting them in his cardinal's attire, with the white
+plumes nodding over his forehead, he seemed, in the language of the
+chairman of a town meeting, "to be waiting for this here meeting to
+proceed to business."
+
+There was a pause,--a painful and embarrassing pause.
+
+The three sat like statues, only that Mr. Potts rubbed the end of his
+nose, with the top of his cane.
+
+Why could not Dr. Bulgin, after the manner of the Genii in the Arabian
+Nights, disappear through the floor, in a cloud of mist and puff of
+perfume?
+
+"Well,--gentlemen,--" said Bulgin at last, for the dead silence began
+to drive him mad, and made him hear all sorts of noises, in his
+ears,--"what are _you_ doing in _this place_, at this _unusual_ hour!"
+
+This was a pointed question, to which Mr. Burns felt called upon to
+reply. He rose, and again the nose loomed largely, as he bowed,--
+
+"Precisely the question which we were about to ask you," he said, and
+was seated again.
+
+Mr. Potts took his turn:
+
+"For a long time we have heard rumors," he said rising, "rumors
+concerning our pastor, of a painful nature. And although we did not
+credit them, yet they troubled us. Last night, however, we each
+received a letter, from an unknown person, who informed us, that in
+case we visited this house, between midnight and daybreak, we would
+discover our pastor, in company with the wife of an aged member of our
+church. As the letter inclosed the password, by which admittance is
+gained to this place, we took counsel upon the matter, and concluded to
+come. And,--"
+
+"And,--" interrupted Watkins, rising solemnly, and extending the
+forefinger of his right hand, toward Bulgin, "and _now we see_!"
+
+"And now we _see_!" echoed Mr. Watkins, absently shutting one eye, as
+he regarded Bulgin's face.
+
+"We _all_ see," remarked Mr. Potts resuming his seat, and then as if to
+clinch the matter--"and with _our own_ eyes!"
+
+Bulgin never before fully appreciated the meaning of the word
+"embarrassed." His wits had never failed him before; would they fail
+him now? He made an effort--
+
+"Why, gentlemen, the truth is, I was summoned to this house, on
+professional duty,--" he began.
+
+Mr. Potts groaned; they all groaned.
+
+"In _that_ costume?" asked Potts.
+
+"And with _madam_ there?" asked Watkins.
+
+"Pro-fessi-o-n-a-l d-u-t-y!" thus Watkins in a hollow voice.
+
+'Professional duty' would not do; evidently not. Foiled on this tack,
+the good Doctor tried another:
+
+"The truth is," he began, with remarkable composure,--"I had been
+informed that Mrs. Parkins here,--" he pointed to the sobbing "nephew"
+otherwise Julia, and drew his chair nearer to the three, gradually
+softening his voice into a confidential whisper,--"Mrs. Parkins, the
+young wife of my aged friend Parkins, had been so far led away by the
+insinuating manners of a young man of fashion, as to promise to meet
+him in this improper place. Desirous to save the wife of my aged friend
+at all hazards, I assumed this dress,--the one which her seducer was to
+wear,--and came to this place, and,--rescued her. Do you understand?"
+
+That "do you understand," was given in one of his most insinuating
+whispers; "and thus you see I periled my reputation in order to
+save,--_her_!"
+
+What effect this story would have had upon the three, had it been
+suffered to travel unquestioned, it is impossible to tell. But low
+and softly as the Doctor whispered, he was overheard by his "nephew,"
+otherwise, Julia.
+
+"Don't lie, Doctor," she said quite tartly as she knelt on the floor.
+"I was not led away by any young man of fashion, and I did _not_ come
+here to meet any young man of fashion. I _was_ led away by _you_, and I
+came here with _you_."
+
+Thus speaking, Julia rose from her knees, and came to the Doctor's
+side, thus presenting to the sight of the three gentlemen, the figure
+of a very handsome woman, dressed in blue frock coat and trowsers.
+She was somewhat tall, luxuriously proportioned, with a fine bust
+and faultless arms, her hair, chestnut brown, and her complexion a
+delicate mingling of "strawberries and cream." "A dem foine woman,"
+the exquisite of Broadway would have called her. There was not so
+much of intellect in her face, as there was health, youth, passion.
+Married to a man of her own age, and whom she loved, she doubtless
+would have risen above temptation, and always proved a faithful wife,
+an affectionate mother. But sold by her parents, in the mockery of
+a marriage, to a man old enough to be her father,--perchance her
+grandfather,--transferred at the age of seventeen, like a bale of
+merchandise, to the possession of one whom she could not revere as a
+father, or love as a husband,--we behold her before us, the victim of
+the reverend tempter.
+
+"You know, Doctor, that you led me away, you know you did," she cried,
+sobbing, "now did you not?" She bent down her head and looked into his
+face. "You can't say you didn't. No more he can't," and she turned in
+mute appeal to the three gentlemen.
+
+"Evidently _not_," exclaimed Mr. Potts, who in his younger days had
+been somewhat wild, "that cock won't fight!" he continued, using a
+figure of speech, derived from the experience of said younger days.
+
+As for the Doctor, he mentally wished the beautiful Mrs. Julia Parkins
+in Kamschatka.
+
+"Never have an affair with a _fool_ again, as long as I live!" he
+muttered.
+
+"And while you soothed my poor old husband, on that doctrinal point;
+you,--you," sobbed Julia, "told me how handsome I was, and what a shame
+it was for me, to be jailed up with an old man like that. Yes, you said
+_jailed_. And how it was no harm for me to love you, and that it was no
+harm for you to love me. And I heard you preach, and you came to the
+house, day after day, and,--" poor Julia could not go on for sobbing.
+
+The three gentlemen groaned.
+
+As for Dr. Bulgin, he calmly rose from his seat, and taking the
+corkscrew from the tray on the table, proceeded quietly to draw the
+cork of a bottle of champagne. This accomplished, he filled a long
+necked glass to the brim with foaming Heidsick.
+
+"Jig's up, gentlemen," he said, bowing to the three, as he tossed
+off the glass, and regarded them with a smile of matchless
+impudence,--"Jig's up!"
+
+"What does he mean by 'jig's up?'" asked Mr. Burns of Mr. Potts, in a
+very hollow voice.
+
+"He means," returned Bulgin himself, straightening up, and rubbing his
+broad chest with his fat hand, "that the jig is up. You've found me
+out. There's no use of lying about it. And now that you have found me
+out,--" he paused, filled another glass, and contemplated the three,
+over its brim,--"allow me to ask, what do you intend to do?"
+
+He took a sip from the glass. The three were thunderstruck.
+
+"Cool!" exclaimed Mr. Potts, punching the toe of his boot with his cane.
+
+"You _can't_ expose me," continued Bulgin, as he took another sip:
+"that would create _scandal_, you know, and hurt the church more than
+it would me."
+
+The rich impudence of the Doctor's look, would "have made a cat laugh."
+
+"We _will_ expose you!" cried Watkins, hollowly, with an emphatic
+nodding of his nose. "The truth demands it. As long as you are suffered
+to prowl about in this way, no man's wife, sister, or daughter is safe."
+
+"No man's wife, sister, or daughter is safe!" echoed Mr. Potts.
+
+"Did I ever tempt _your_ wife, Burns?" coolly asked Bulgin,--Burns
+winced, for his wife was remarkably plain.
+
+"Or your sister, Potts?" Potts colored to the eyes; his sister was a
+miracle of plainness.
+
+"Or your daughter, Watkins?" Watkins felt the thrust, for his daughter
+was as plain as Burns' wife and Potts' sister combined.
+
+"Be assured I never will," continued Bulgin--"now, what do you intend
+to do? Expose me and ruin this poor creature here?"--"Don't call me a
+poor creature, you brute!" indignantly interrupted Julia. "Publish me
+in the papers, dismiss me from the church, give my name to be a by-word
+in the mouths of scoffers and infidels? Gravely, gentlemen, is that
+what you mean to do? Let us reflect a little. You pay me a good salary;
+I preach you good sermons. Granted. My practice may be a little loose,
+but, is not my doctrine orthodox? Where can you get a preacher who will
+draw larger crowds? And is it worth your while, merely on account of a
+little weakness like this,"--he pointed to Julia,--"to disgrace me and
+the church together?"
+
+The Doctor saw by their faces, that he had made an impression. They
+conversed together in low tones, and with much earnestness. Meanwhile,
+Julia sobbed and Bulgin took another glass of champagne.
+
+"Will you solemnly promise,"--Burns knocked his cane on the floor,
+and emphasised each word, "to be more careful of your conduct in the
+future, in case we overlook the present offense?"
+
+"Cordially, gentlemen, and upon my honor!" cried Bulgin, rising from
+his seat, "I will take Julia quietly home, and to-morrow commence life
+anew. I give you my hand upon it."
+
+He advanced, and shook them by the hand.
+
+"If you keep your word, this will suit me," said Burns, with gloomy
+cordiality.
+
+"And me," echoed Watkins.
+
+"And me," responded Potts.
+
+"But it will not suit me!" cried a strange voice, which started the
+whole company to their feet. The voice came from behind the hangings
+which concealed the bed. It was a firm voice, and deep as a well.
+
+"It will not suit me, I say," and from the hangings the unknown speaker
+emerged with a measured stride.
+
+He was a tall man, somewhat bent in the shoulders, and wore a long
+cloak, of an _antique_ fashion, which was fastened to his neck by a
+golden clasp. His white hairs were covered by an old-fashioned fur-cap;
+his eyes hidden by large green glasses, and the furred collar of his
+cloak, concealed the lower part of his face. An aged man, evidently, as
+might be seen by his snow-white hair, and the wrinkles on the exposed
+portion of his face, but his step was strong and measured, and his
+voice firm and clear.
+
+"And who are _you_?" cried Bulgin, recovering from his surprise. His
+remark was chorused by the others.
+
+"A pew-holder in your church," emphatically exclaimed the cloaked
+individual. "Let that suffice you. Gentlemen,"--turning his back
+on Bulgin, he lifted his cap and exposed his forehead to the three
+gentlemen,--"you know me?"
+
+With one impulse, they pronounced a name; and it was plainly to be seen
+that they respected that name, and its owner.
+
+"This compromise does not suit me," said the cloaked gentleman, turning
+abruptly to Bulgin. "You are a villain, sir. It is men like you who
+bring the Gospel of Christ into contempt. You are an atheist, sir. It
+is men like you who fill the world with infidels. I have borne with you
+long enough. I will bear with you no longer. You shall be exposed, sir."
+
+This style of attack, as impetuous as a charge of bayonets, evidently
+startled the good Doctor.
+
+"Who are _you_?" he asked, sneeringly.
+
+"I am the man who wrote the letters to these three gentlemen,
+yesterday," dryly responded the cloaked gentleman.
+
+"This is a conspiracy," growled Bulgin. "Take care, sir! There is a law
+for conspirators against character and reputation--"
+
+"Baugh!" responded the old gentleman, shrugging his shoulders; and then
+he beckoned with his hand, toward the recess in which stood the bed.
+"Come in," he said, "it is time."
+
+Two persons emerged from the recess; one, an old man, of portly form,
+and mild, good-humored face--now, alas! dark and corrugated with
+suppressed wrath; the other, a slender woman, with pale face, and
+large, intellectual eyes,--and a baby, sleeping on her bosom.
+
+Bulgin uttered an oath.
+
+"My wife!--her father!" was all he could utter.
+
+"I have summoned you from your home in the country," said the cloaked
+gentleman, "to meet me at this house at this unusual hour, to show you
+the husband and son-in-law in his festival attire, and in company with
+his paramour.--Look at him! Isn't he beautiful?"
+
+The wife rushed forward, with an indignant glance--
+
+"Let me see the woman who has stolen my husband's affections," she said.
+
+The cloaked gentleman interposed between her and Julia,--
+
+"Softly, my good lady; this poor child must not be disgraced;" and,
+turning to Julia, he whispered: "Hide your face with your 'kerchief,
+and hurry from the room. There is a carriage at the door; it will bear
+you home. Away now!"
+
+"The nephew" did not need a second invitation. Hands over her face, she
+glided from the room.
+
+Bulgin now found himself in this position:--behind him, Watkins,
+Burns and Potts; on his right, the cloaked gentleman; on his left,
+his weeping wife, with her baby; in front, the burly form of his
+father-in-law, who, clad in the easy costume of a country gentleman,
+seemed too full of wrath to trust himself with words.
+
+"Oh! husband, how could you--" began the wife.
+
+"Is that your wife, sir?" thundered the father-in-law. "Answer me! Is
+that your wife?"
+
+"It is," answered Bulgin, retreating a step. "Allow me to explain,--"
+
+"Is that your child, sir?" thundered the enraged old gentleman.
+"Answer me! Is that your child?"
+
+"It--is--" and Bulgin retreated another step.
+
+"Then, what in the devil do you do in a place like this?--Hey?--Answer
+me!--answer me!--"
+
+The father-in-law was too much enraged to say any more. So he
+proceeded to settle the affair in his own way. He did not threaten
+"divorce;"--did not even mention "separate maintenance." Nothing of the
+kind. His course was altogether different. From beneath his capacious
+buff waistcoat, he drew forth a cow-hide--a veritable cow-hide,--and
+grasped it firmly.
+
+"Don't strike a man of my cloth," cried Bulgin.
+
+The only answer was a blow across the face, which left its livid
+mark on the nose and cheeks. The good Doctor bawled and ran. The
+father-in-law pursued, giving the cow-hide free play over the head and
+shoulders of the Doctor. And the wife, with baby on her bosom, pursued
+her father,--"Don't, father, don't!" Thus, the chase led round the
+room; the howls of the Doctor, the blows of the whip, the falling of
+chairs, and trampling of feet, forming, altogether, a striking chorus.
+And to add the feather to the camel's back, the baby lifted up its
+voice in the midst of the scene. Mr. Potts, Mr. Burns, and Mr. Watkins,
+mounted on the sofa, so that they might not be in the way.
+
+As for the cloaked gentleman, leaning against the door, he
+laughed,--yes, perhaps for the first time in thirty years.
+
+After making the circuit of the room three or four times, the scarlet
+attire of the Rev. Dr. Bulgin hung in rags upon his back; and the old
+man, red in the face, bathed in perspiration, and out of breath, sank
+panting in a chair.
+
+He glanced at his daughter, who sat weeping in a corner, and then at
+the Rev. Doctor, who, with the figure of the letter X welted across his
+face, was rubbing his bruises in another corner.
+
+"Now, sir, if ever I catch you at anything of this kind, if I don't
+lick you, my name ain't Jenkins!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+BANK-STOCK AT THE BAR.
+
+
+The Court of Ten Millions was once more in session. The judge was once
+more in his seat; his form enveloped in the coat with many capes,
+his features shadowed by the hat with ample brim. But the beautiful
+Esther was no longer on his left, nor the giant negro on his right.
+The great statesman, with the somber brow and masquerade attire of
+Roderick Borgia, no longer sat in the seat of the criminal. The scene
+was altogether changed, although the candle on the table still shed
+its beams around that room, whose black hangings were fringed with
+gold, and whose gloomy ceiling represented a stormy sky, with the sun
+struggling among its clouds.
+
+In the seat of the criminal sat Israel Yorke, the financier; his
+diminutive form, clad in the scarlet Turkish jacket and blue trowsers,
+contrasting somewhat oddly with his business-like face, and with the
+general appearance of the scene. Israel was perplexed, for he shifted
+uneasily in the chair and clasped its arms with his hands, while his
+ferret-like eyes, now peering above, now below, but never through the
+glasses of his spectacles, roved incessantly from side to side. There
+sat the silent judge, under the gloomy canopy, his head bowed on his
+breast. There was the black table, on which stood the solitary candle,
+and over which were scattered, an inkstand, pen and paper, a book,
+and sundry other volumes, looking very much like ledger and day-book.
+On one side of the table, ranged against the wall, were six sturdy
+fellows, attired in coarse garments, with crape over their faces; and
+each man held a club in his brawny hand. And on the opposite side, also
+ranged against the wall like statues, were six more sturdy fellows,
+each one grasping a club with his strong right arm. They were dumb as
+stone; only their hard breathing could be heard;--evidently men of
+toil, who, on occasion, in a good cause, can strike a blow that will be
+felt.
+
+Israel did not like this scene. A few moments since, kneeling beside
+a beautiful girl, whose young loveliness was helpless and in his
+power;--and now, a prisoner in this nightmare sort of place, with the
+judge before him, and six sturdy fellows on either hand, waiting to do
+the judge's bidding! The contrast was too violent. Israel thought so;
+and--Israel felt anything but comfortable.
+
+"Do they mean to murder me in this dismal den?" he ejaculated
+to himself. "Really, this way of doing business is exceedingly
+unbusiness-like. What would they say in Wall street to a scene like
+this?"
+
+Here the voice of the judge was heard through the dead stillness:
+
+"Israel Yorke, you are about to be put on trial for your crimes."
+
+"My crimes?" ejaculated the little man, bounding from his seat.
+"Crimes!--What crimes have I committed?"
+
+There, outspoke the sense of injured innocence! To be sure--what crimes
+had he committed? Had he ever stabbed a man, or put another man's name
+to paper, or stolen a loaf of bread? No,--indignantly--No! Israel Yorke
+was above all that. But how many robbers had he made, in the course of
+his career, by his banking speculations? how many forgers? how many
+murderers? how many honest men had he flung into the felon's cell? how
+many pure women had he transformed into walkers of the public streets?
+Ah! these are questions which Israel Yorke had rather not answer.
+
+"Yes, your crimes, committed through a long course of years; not with
+the bravery and boldness of the highway robber, but with the cowardice
+and low cunning of the sneak and swindler, who robs within the letter
+of the law. Crimes committed, not upon the wealthy and the strong,
+but upon the weak, the poor, the helpless--the widow, by her fireless
+hearth--the orphan, by his father's grave. Oh, sir--we have just tried
+a bold, bad man; a colossal criminal, whose very errors wear something
+of the gloomy grandeur of the thunder-cloud. To put you on trial, after
+him, is like leaving the presence of Satan, his forehead yet bearing
+some traces of former splendor, to find ones-self confronted by Mammon,
+that most abased of all the damned. Yes, sir,--an apology is due to
+human nature, by this court, for stooping so low as to put _you_ on
+your trial. And yet, even you derive some sort of consequence from the
+vast field of your crimes,--the wide-spread and infernal results of
+your life-long labors."
+
+Israel crouched in his chair, as though he expected the ceiling to fall
+on him. "What d'ye mean by crimes?" he cried, grasping the arms of the
+chair with both hands;--"and what right have you to try me?"
+
+The judge briefly but pointedly, and in a clear voice, which penetrated
+every nook of the chamber, explained the peculiar features of the
+court. Its power, backed by ten millions of silver dollars; its
+jurisdiction, over crimes committed by those who seek the fruits
+of labor, without its work, or who use the accident of wealth and
+social position to oppress or degrade man--their brother; its stern
+application to criminals, who, clad in wealth, had trampled all justice
+under foot of their own terse motto, "MIGHT MAKES RIGHT."
+
+The explanation of the judge was brief, but impressive. Israel began
+to feel conviction steal into his soul. "Might makes right!" Oh, how
+like the last nail in the coffin, are those simple words, to a wealthy
+scoundrel, who suddenly finds himself helpless in the grasp of a
+mightier power!
+
+"Of--what--am--I--accused!" faltered Israel; thus recognising the
+jurisdiction of the court.
+
+The judge answered him:
+
+"Of every crime that can be committed by the man, who makes it his sole
+object in life to coin money out of the life and blood of the helpless
+and the poor;--and who pursues this object steadily, by day and night,
+for twenty years, with the untiring scent of the bloodhound on the
+track of blood. Survey your life for the last twenty years. You have
+appeared in various characters: as the trustee, as the executor, as the
+speculator, the landlord, and the financier."
+
+He paused. Israel found himself listening with intense interest.
+
+"As the trustee, to whom dying men, with their last breath, intrusted
+the heritage of the orphan, you have in every case, plundered the
+orphan out of bread, out of education, and cast him ignorant and
+helpless upon the world. How many orphans, given into your charge, with
+their heritage, now rot in the grave, or in the felon's dungeon? Your
+history is written in their blood. Do you,--" the voice of the judge
+sank low,--"do you remember one orphan, whom, when a little child, her
+father gave to your care, and whom, when grown to young womanhood, you
+robbed of her heritage? Do you remember the day on which she died, the
+tenant of a brothel?"
+
+Once more the judge was silent, but Israel had no word of reply. As for
+the twelve listeners, they manifested their attention by an ominous
+murmur.
+
+"As the landlord, it has not been your object to provide the poor with
+comfortable homes, in exchange for their hard-earned rent-money, but to
+pack as many human beings as you might, within the smallest compass of
+brick and mortar,--to herd creatures made in the image of the living
+God, in narrow rooms, dark courts, and pestilential alleys, as never
+beasts were herded,--and thus you have sowed death, you have bred the
+fever, the small-pox, the cholera,--but _you have made money_."
+
+Seated in the shadow of the velvet canopy, from which his voice
+resounded, the judge again was silent. Israel, dropping his eyes,
+imitated the silence of the judge. The murmur of the twelve listeners
+was now accompanied by the sound of their clubs grating against the
+floor.
+
+"It is as a banker, however, that your appetite for money, made out of
+human blood, takes its intensest form of baseness. You started with a
+Savings Fund, chartered by a well-paid legislature, who transformed
+you into a president and board of directors, and divesting you of all
+responsibility, as a man, authorized you to coin money out of the blind
+confidence of the poor. Hard-working men, servant-girls, needle-women,
+and others of the poor, who gain their pittance by labor that never
+knows rest, until it sleeps in the grave, deposited that pittance in
+your hands. A pittance, mark you, not so remarkable for its amount, as
+for the fact, that it might, in some future hour, become bread to the
+starving, warmth to the freezing, home to the homeless. And how did you
+deal with the sacred trust? The earnings of the poor filled the coffers
+of your Savings Fund, until they counted over a hundred thousand
+dollars, and then, on the eve of a dreary winter, the Savings Fund
+_failed_. That was all. _You_ did not _fail_; oh, no; but the Savings
+Fund Corporation (into which a pliant legislature had transformed
+you),--it _failed_. And while you pocketed the hundred thousand
+dollars, you left the poor, who had trusted you, to starve, or beg, or
+die, as pleased them."
+
+Israel shaded his eyes with his hands; he seemed buried in profound
+thought.
+
+"This was the corner-stone of your fortunes. Then the Savings Fund
+swindler grew into the banker. There were legislatures at Albany,
+at Trenton and at Harrisburgh, eager to do your bidding,--hungry to
+be bought. For every dollar of real value in your coffers, these
+legislatures, by their charters, gave you the privilege to create at
+least fifty paper dollars; in other words, to demand from the toiling
+people of the land, some millions of dollars' worth of their labor,
+without any equivalent. Your banks grew; there were sham presidents and
+boards of directors, but you were the actual owner of them all; your
+paper was scattered broadcast over the land. It was in the hands of
+farmers and mechanics, of poor men and poor women, who had taken it in
+pay for hard labor; and all at once your banks _failed_. What became of
+the poor wretches who took your paper, is not known, but as for you,
+your capital of a hundred thousand now swelled into two millions of
+dollars. Let the poor howl! Had you not a press in your pay? Why should
+not the press be purchased, when legislatures are to be bought as so
+much merchandise?"
+
+The judge paused, and after a moment resumed,--
+
+"There was a clamor for a while, but you laughed in your sleeve, bought
+houses and lands,--dotted the city with pestilential dens, in which
+you crowded the poor, like insects in a festering carcass,--and after
+a time, raised your head once more as a banker. It was Harrisburgh,
+Albany or Trenton this time,--one of the three, or all of them,--which
+gave you the right to steal by law. You were now the owner (and behind
+the scenes, the wire-puller), of three banks. Last night you thought
+'the pear ripe.' Your notes were once more scattered broadcast over the
+land. 'It is a good time to fail,' you thought, and so last night,
+in the railroad cars (in order to give a color to your failure) you
+pretended to be robbed of seventy-one thousand dollars."
+
+"Pretended to be robbed? I tell you I was robbed," cried Israel,
+half-rising from his seat,--"robbed by an old convict and his young
+accomplice."
+
+"And this morning, in due course, your three banks stopped payment.
+All day long your victims lined the street, in front of your den of
+plunder; and to-night found you in this place, seeking for a time, the
+gratification of one lust in place of another. And now you are in the
+hands of those who, having 'THE MIGHT,' will do with you as your crimes
+deserve. 'Might makes right,' you know."
+
+"But where is the proof of all this? Where are my accusers?" Israel's
+teeth chattered as he spoke.
+
+"Do you ask for accusers? What accusers are needed more powerful than
+those voices which now,--and even your seared conscience must hear
+them,--arise against you from the silence of the grave and the darkness
+of the dungeon cell?"
+
+Israel tried hard to brace his nerves against the force of words like
+these,--against the tone in which they were spoke,--but he shook from
+head to foot, as though he had been seized with an ague-fit.
+
+"Think for a moment of Cornelius Berman, whom, by the grossest fraud,
+you stripped of property and home, leaving himself and his only child
+to sink heart-broken into the grave. And once you called yourself his
+_friend_. Think, also, of your instrument, Buggles, whose persecution
+of the artist, instigated by you, provoked a brave and honest youth
+into murder, and consigned him to the felon's death! Do you ask for
+accusers?"
+
+"Cornelius Berman!" faltered Israel, as if thinking aloud.
+
+"Do you ask for proofs? Behold them on the table before you. For years
+your course has been tracked, your crimes counted, and the hour of
+your punishment fixed. And the hour has come! On the table before you
+are proofs of all your crimes, proofs that would weigh you down in a
+convict's chains before any court of law. There are the secrets which
+you thought safely locked up in your fire-proof, or buried in the
+forgotten past,--secrets connected with the history of long years,
+with your transactions in Harrisburgh, Trenton, Albany,--with all your
+schemes from the very dawning of your infamous career."
+
+"Can Fetch, the villain, have betrayed me?" and Israel sank back
+helplessly in the huge arm-chair;--"or, is this man only trying to
+bully me into some confession or other?"
+
+"Israel Yorke! the devotion with which you, for long years, have
+pursued your object,--to coin money out of human blood,--has only been
+exceeded by the devotion of those who have followed you at every step
+of the way, and for years, singled you out as the victim of avenging
+justice."
+
+"But what do you intend to do with me?" cried Yorke, now shivering from
+head to foot with terror.
+
+"In the first place, you will sign a paper, stating the truth, viz:
+that you have ample means to redeem every dollar of your notes, and
+that you will redeem them to-day, and henceforth at your office."
+
+"But I have not the funds," Israel began, but he was sternly
+interrupted by the judge: "It is false! you have the funds. Independent
+of the seventy-one thousand dollars, of which you say you were robbed,
+you can, at any moment, command a million dollars. The proofs are on
+the table before you. You _must_ redeem your notes."
+
+"And suppose I consent to sign such a paper?" hesitated the Financier.
+
+"Then you must sign another paper, the contents of which you will not
+know until some future time," continued the judge, very quietly.
+
+"If I do it, may I be ----!" screamed Israel, bouncing from his seat.
+
+"It is well. You may go," calmly remarked the judge. "You are free;
+these gentlemen will see you from this house, and attend you until bank
+hours, when they will have the honor of presenting you to the holders
+of your notes, who will, doubtless, gather in respectable numbers in
+front of your banking house."
+
+Israel was free, but the twelve gentlemen, with clubs, gathered round
+him, anxious to escort him safely on his way.
+
+"Come, my dear little Turk, we are ready," said one of the number,
+with a very gruff voice, laying a hand,--it was such a hard hand,--on
+the shoulders of the Financier, "We're a-dyin' to go with you; ain't
+we, boys?"
+
+"Dyin' ain't the word,--we're starvin' to death to be alone with the
+gentleman in blue trowsers," responded another.
+
+Israel bit his lips in silent rage.
+
+"Give me the papers," he said, in a sullen voice, and following a sign
+from the finger of the judge, he advanced to the table, and beheld the
+documents, the first of which he read.
+
+It was an important document, containing a brief statement of all
+Israel's financial affairs,--evidently prepared by one who knew all
+about him,--together with his solemn promise to redeem every one of his
+notes, dollar for dollar.
+
+"Could Fetch have betrayed me?"--Israel hissed the words between his
+set teeth, as he took up the pen.--"If I thought so, I'd cut his
+throat."
+
+He signed, shook his gold spectacles, and uttered a deep sigh.
+
+"Now, the other paper," said the judge, "its contents are concealed by
+another sheet, but there is room for your signature."
+
+Israel's little eyes shone wickedly as he gazed upon the sheet of
+paper, which hid the mysterious document. He chewed the handle of his
+pen between his teeth,--stood for a moment in great perplexity, and
+then signed at the bottom of the sheet, the musical name of "ISRAEL
+YORKE," and then fell back in the chair wiping the sweat from his
+forehead with the sleeve of his Turkish jacket.
+
+"Anything more?" he gasped.
+
+"You are free," said the judge; "you may now change your dress, and
+leave this house."
+
+Israel bounced from his seat.
+
+"Yet, hold a single moment. One of these gentlemen will accompany
+you wherever you go; eat, drink, walk, sit, sleep with you, and be
+introduced by you to all your financial friends, as your moneyed friend
+from the country,----"
+
+"Why, you must be the devil incarnate," screamed Israel, and he beat
+his clenched hand against the arm of the chair.
+
+"It will be the business of your attendant to accompany you to your
+banking house, and see that you commence the redemption of your notes
+at nine o'clock this morning. He will report all your movements to me.
+Were you suffered to go alone, you might, in a fit of absence, glide
+out of public view, and,--Havana is such a pleasant residence for
+runaway bankers, especially in winter time."
+
+Israel gave utterance to an oath. The judge, without remarking this
+pardonable ebullition of feeling, quietly addressed his twelve,--
+
+"Which of you gentlemen will put yourself under this gentleman's
+orders, as his attendant and shadow?"
+
+There was a pause, and one of the twelve advanced and laid his brawny
+hand upon the table. His gaunt and muscular form was clad in a sleek
+frock-coat of dark blue cloth, buttoned over his broad chest to his
+throat, where it was relieved by a black cravat and high shirt collar.
+His harsh features, closely shaven, and disfigured by a hideous scar on
+his cheek,--features manifesting traces of hardship and age,--were in
+singular contrast with his hair, which, sleek, and brown and glossy,
+was parted neatly in the middle of his huge head, and descended to
+either ear, in massy curls. His eyes, half hidden by the shaggy brows,
+shone with an expression only to be described by the words, _ferocious
+fun_.
+
+"I'll go with him, hoss," said a gruff voice; and, turning to Israel,
+this singular individual regarded him with a steady look. Israel
+returned his look, and the twain gazed upon each other with increasing
+interest; and at length the individual approached Israel, and bent down
+his head near to his face.
+
+"It's the fellow,--it's the fellow!" cried Israel, once more bouncing
+from his seat. "He robbed me last night in the cars,--he----"
+
+"Be silent," cried the judge, who had regarded this scene attentively,
+with his hand upraised to his brow.--"Gentlemen, conduct the prisoner
+into the next room, and leave me alone with this person," he pointed to
+the gaunt individual who stood alone by the table.
+
+The eleven disappeared through the curtains into the Golden Room with
+Israel in their charge.
+
+"Now sir, who are you?" sternly inquired the judge.
+
+The individual gravely lifted his brown hair,--for it was a wig,--and
+disclosed the outline of his huge head, with the black hair streaked
+with gray, cut close to the scalp. Then turning down the high
+shirt-collar, he disclosed the lower part of his face,--the wide mouth
+and iron jaw, stamped with a savage resolution.
+
+"Don't you think I'm hansum?" he said, and the eyes twinkled under the
+bushy brows, and the mouth distorted in a grin.
+
+"It's the same!" ejaculated the judge,--"How did you escape from the
+room in which you were confined some three hours ago, and what do you
+here?"
+
+"As yer so civil and pleasant spoken, I don't mind answerin' yer
+questions. Arter the poleese had tied me, and left me in the dark upon
+the bed, 'it looks black,' said I to myself, 'but don't give it up so
+easy!' and a side door was opened, an' a hand cut my cords, and a voice
+said 'get up and travel,--the way is clear,' and a bundle was put into
+my hand, containin' these clothes, and this head o' hair.--I rigged
+myself out in the dark, pitched my old clothes under the bed, an' then
+went down the back stairway. I certainly did travel--"
+
+"And then?--"
+
+"And then," responded the individual, "I went and got shaved."
+
+"How came you here?"
+
+"Thinking, I was safer in a crowd, than anywhere else, I put for
+down town, and I mixed in with the folks in front of Israel Yorke's
+banking-house, and as they were hollering, why I hollered too. They
+wanted to pitch into him,--so did I. Lord! didn't they holler! And a
+gen'elman, seein' I was so airnest, told me about a private party, who
+were about to foller up Isr'el, to this house. One o' their gang, he
+said, was sick,--he axed me to jine 'em,--and swore me in as one of
+your perleese,--and I jined 'em."
+
+"What is your name?" cried the judge, sternly.
+
+"In the place where I was last, they called me Ninety-One," answered
+the old convict, arranging the high collar about his face,--"Years ago,
+when I was an honest man, afore a man in a cloak, on a dark night, left
+a baby with me and my wife, I was called,----"
+
+He paused, and passed his brawny hand over his eyes. The judge started
+up from his seat.--
+
+"Yes, yes, you were called,--" he exclaimed.
+
+"John Hoffman," replied the convict.
+
+The judge sank back in his chair, and his head dropped upon his breast.
+It was sometime before he spoke,--
+
+"I have heard of your story before," he said, in a tremulous voice.
+"And now answer me one question," he continued in a firmer voice.--"Did
+you commit the murder for which you were arrested?"
+
+"I can't expect you to believe an old cuss like me, but I certainly did
+_not_," responded Ninety-One.
+
+"How came you in the room next to the one in which the murdered man was
+found?"
+
+"I was took there by _a friend_, who offered to hide me from the folks
+who were arter me, about Israel's valise."
+
+The judge seemed buried in thought.
+
+"And after the murder was discovered, and you were arrested and
+pinioned, the same _friend_ appeared once more, and aided your escape?"
+
+"It was a friend," dryly responded Ninety-One,--"can't say what he
+looked like, as the room was as black as your hat, (purviden you don't
+wear a white hat)."
+
+"Did you commit the robbery on the railroad cars, last night?"
+
+"I'll be straight up and down with you, boss," said Ninety-One,--"I did
+_not_,--and nobody didn't. The money was found on the track, after the
+smashin' up o' the cars."
+
+"Do you imagine the _friend_, who hid you away in the house of old Mr.
+Somers, intended to implicate you in the murder of his son?"
+
+"That's jist one o' th' p'ints I'd like to settle;" Ninety-One uttered
+a low deep laugh, "if he did, I wouldn't give three tosses of a bad
+copper for his windpipe."
+
+"As the case stands now, you labor under the double suspicion of
+robbery and murder. Now mark me,--if you are innocent, I will defend
+you. In the course of the day, I will have some future talk with you.
+For the present, your disguise will avoid suspicion for a day or two.
+You will go with Israel Yorke, and report all his movements to me. My
+name and residence you will find on the card near the candlestick. One
+question more--there was a boy with you,--"
+
+The voice of the judge again grew tremulous.
+
+Ninety-One, attired in the neat frock-coat, which displayed the brawny
+width of his chest, drew himself to his full height, and gazed upon the
+judge, long and earnestly, his eyes deep-sunken behind his bushy brows.
+
+"Do you think I'd a answered all your questions, hoss, if I hadn't
+thought you knew somethin' o' my life and had the will and the power
+to set me right afore the world? Well it's not for my own sake, I wish
+to be set right, but for the sake of that boy. And afore I answer your
+question, let me ax another: Did you ever happen to know a man named
+Doctor Martin Fulmer?"
+
+Ninety-One could not see the expression of the judge's face, (for as
+you are aware, that face was concealed under the shadow of the broad
+brimmed hat,) but when the judge replied to his question, his voice was
+marked by perceptible agitation:
+
+"I know Dr. Fulmer. In fact,--in fact,--I am often intrusted by him
+with business. He will be in town to-morrow."
+
+"He is alive then," exclaimed Ninety-One. "Well hoss, when you meet
+Dr. Martin Fulmer, jist tell him that that boy, who was with me, had a
+parchment about his neck, on which these letters was writ, 'G. G. V. H.
+C.' The very same," he continued, as if thinking aloud, "which I used
+to send in a letter, to Dr. Martin Fulmer."
+
+"And this boy," almost shrieked the judge, rising, and starting one
+step forward, on the platform, his corpse-like hand extended toward
+Ninety-One,--"This boy with the parchment about his neck, where,--where
+is he now?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+"WHERE IS THE CHILD OF GULIAN VAN HUYDEN?"
+
+
+"In the early part of the evenin' I left him in this very house, in
+company with a gal named Frank,--"
+
+The judge interrupted him,--"Bring in the prisoner!" he shouted, and
+the eleven shuffled into the room, escorting the little gentleman
+in Turkish jacket and trowsers: "Draw near sir," he beckoned to
+Ninety-One, "attend this man from this house,--" he pointed to
+Yorke, "and do with him as I direct you,--thus--" he communicated
+his directions to Ninety-One, in a rapid tone, broken by emotion,
+and inaudible to the eleven, "and you gentlemen,--" to the
+eleven,--"already have your instructions."
+
+He paused and then clutched Ninety-One by the hand, the convict
+endeavoring, although vainly, to gain a glimpse of his features,--"In
+this house with Frank did you say?" his voice was husky.
+
+"In this house, with a gal named Frank," answered Ninety-One.
+
+The judge stepped hastily from the platform, and his steps trembling as
+he went, disappeared through a side door, his hands clasped over his
+breast.
+
+Israel Yorke found himself alone with Ninety-One and the eleven
+gentlemen with clubs. Ninety-One addressed him in a tone of cheerful
+politeness:
+
+"Come, old cock, you and me's got to travel," he said, covering
+Israel's right shoulder with his huge hand.
+
+Israel, biting his lips with illy suppressed rage, could not help
+venting the bitterness of his soul, in a single word,--
+
+"Devil," he hissed the word between his set teeth.
+
+"Well, I am a devil Isr'el," answered Ninety-One good humoredly, "an'
+you're another. But you see there's two kind o' devils. I'll explain it
+to you. Once a little sneak of a devil came up to the head devil, (this
+happened in the lower regions,) and offered to take his arm, 'you're
+one devil, and I'm another, and so we're ekle,' says the little sneak
+of a devil. Now the head devil did not like this. He says, says he, to
+the little sneak, 'There's two kind o' devils, young gen'leman. There's
+me, for instance,--when I fell from Heaven. I showed _pluck_ anyhow,
+and fell like a devil, and went about makin' _stump speeches_ in the
+lower regions. But you,--you,--what was you doing meanwhile? Sneakin'
+out o' Heaven with your carpet-bag full of gold bricks, which you had
+stolen from the gold pavement.' Now Isr'el the name of the first devil
+was Beelzebub, and the little sneak of a devil was called, Mammon. Do
+you take?"
+
+The eleven gentlemen with clubs, received this elegant apologue, with
+evident pleasure, manifesting their delight by a unanimous burst of
+laughter.
+
+Israel said nothing, but evidently was absorbed in a multitude of
+reflections, not altogether of the most pleasant character.
+
+In a short time, once more arrayed in his every-day attire he left the
+Temple, accompanied by Ninety-One, and followed by the eleven.
+
+Hastening from the "Court of Ten Millions," his hands clasped tightly
+over his breast, and his steps trembling as he went, THE JUDGE
+was determined, at all hazards, to obtain an immediate interview
+with Frank. Hurrying along a dark passage, and then down the dark
+stairway,--for the lights had been extinguished, and the Temple was
+dark and silent as the tomb,--the judge muttered frequently the words
+"in this house,--in this house!" and then exclaimed,--"O, he cannot,
+cannot escape me! The hand of fate has led him hither."
+
+He opened a door, and entered the magnificent apartment, in which, in
+the early part of the evening, Tarleton feasted with his friends, while
+at the head of the table, sat the corse of Evelyn Somers. Now all was
+dark and silent there.
+
+The judge lost no time, but retraced his steps and hurried up-stairs.
+He presently entered the Central Chamber, where a few candles burned to
+their sockets, shed their pale and uncertain light, over the pictures
+and the mirrors, the tables coveted with flowers, and the lofty ceiling
+supported by marble pillars. When last we saw the Central Chamber,
+it was all life and motion; warm pulses were throbbing, bright eyes
+flashing there. Then gay and varied costumes glittered in the light,
+and each voluptuous recess, echoed to the sighs of passion. Now the
+scene presented that saddest of all spectacles,--the decaying lights
+of a festival, emitting their last dim gleam, upon the faded splendors
+of the forsaken festal hall. Popes, Caliphs, Cardinals, Quakeresses,
+Knights, Nymphs and Houris, all were gone. The place was silent as the
+grave, and much more sad.
+
+A single form walked slowly up and down the silent hall,--a woman,
+whose noble person was attired in black velvet, her dark hair falling
+to her shoulders, and a white cross clustering on her brow. Her hands
+dropped listlessly by her side, and her dark eyes dilating in their
+sockets, were fixed in a vacant stare.
+
+"Frank, I must speak with you at once, and on a subject of life and
+death," cried the judge, suddenly confronting her. Even as he spoke,
+he was startled at the unnatural pallor of her face. "To-night a
+young man, in whose history I am fearfully interested, entered this
+house, and saw you in your chamber. He is now here," he continued
+impetuously,--"I must see him."
+
+"You mean the lost son of Gulian Van Huyden?" she calmly said, pausing
+in her walk, and folding her arms over her breast.
+
+"He _was_ here then," cried the judge, evidently wild with agitation,
+"nay he is here now."
+
+"He was here half an hour ago," returned Frank, who, pre-occupied
+with her own thoughts, did not seem to notice the agitation of the
+Judge,--"half an hour ago he left the house."
+
+"Left the house? Whither has he gone?"
+
+"I know not."
+
+"Child, child, you mock me," in his agitation he seized her wrist,--"I
+must see this boy, it is upon a matter of life and death. For God's
+sake do not trifle with me."
+
+"I tell you, that he left the house half an hour ago," returned Frank,
+"and as I hope to have peace in the hour of my death, I do not know
+whither he has gone."
+
+The solemnity of her tone impressed the judge.
+
+"But will he return?"
+
+"He will never return,--never!" she answered, and it seemed to the
+judge, as though there was a hidden meaning in her words.
+
+"O, do not drive me to despair. I must see this youth, before
+to-morrow,--yes, to-day,--this hour!"
+
+"You will never see him in this house again."
+
+"Did he leave this house alone, or was he accompanied,--and by whom?"
+
+A strange smile passed over her face as she replied in a whisper--
+
+"He was accompanied by Mary Berman, who arisen from the grave, came
+here to claim her husband."
+
+The Judge uttered a wild ejaculation, and sank half fainting in a
+chair,--his hat fell from his brow, and his face was revealed.
+
+That face, remarkable in every outline, was bathed in cold moisture,
+and distorted by contending emotions.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+BEVERLY AND JOANNA.
+
+
+In the Temple, near the hour of dawn, on the morning of the 24th of
+December, 1844.
+
+"Fallen!"
+
+Yes, fallen! nevermore to press the kiss of a pure mother upon the
+lips of her innocent child. Fallen! never more to meet her husband's
+gaze, with the look of a chaste and faithful wife. Fallen!--from
+wifely purity, from all that makes the past holy, or the future
+hopeful--fallen, from all that makes life worth the having,--fallen!
+and forever!
+
+"Fallen!"
+
+Oh, how this word, trembling from her lips--wrung from her
+heart--echoed through the stillness of the dimly-lighted chamber.
+
+She was seated on the sofa, her noble form clad in the white silken
+robe--her hands clasped--her golden hair unbound--her neck and
+shoulders bare: and the same light hanging from the ceiling, which
+disclosed the details of that luxurious chamber--carpet, chairs, sofa,
+mirror, and the snow-white couch in a distant recess--fell upon her
+beautiful countenance, and revealed the remorse that was written there.
+There was a wild, startled look in her blue eyes; her lips were apart;
+her cheek was now, pale as death, and then, flushed with the scarlet
+hues of unavailing shame.
+
+He was reclining at her feet; his arm resting on the sofa; his face
+upturned--his eyes gazing into hers. Clad in the costume of the white
+monk--a loose robe of white cloth, with wide sleeves, edged with
+red--Beverly Barron toyed with his flaxen curls, as he looked into her
+face, and remarked her with a look of mingled meaning. There was base
+appetite, gratified vanity, but no remorse in his look.
+
+And the light fell on his florid face, with its sensual mouth, receding
+chin, wide nostrils, and bullet-shaped forehead, encircled by ringlets
+of flaxen hair--a face altogether _animal_, with scarcely a single ray
+of a higher nature, to light up or refine its grossness.
+
+"Fallen!" cried Joanna; and clasped her hands, and shuddered, as if
+with cold.
+
+"Never mind, dear," said Beverly, and he bent forward and kissed her
+hands--"I will love you always!"
+
+"Oh, my God!"--and in that ejaculation, all the agony of her soul found
+utterance,--"Oh, my God! my child!"
+
+Beverly knelt at her feet, and kissed her clenched hands, and
+endeavored to soothe her with professions of undying love; but she tore
+her hands from his grasp--
+
+"My husband! How can I ever look into his face again!"
+
+Had you seen that noble form, swelling in every fiber; had you seen the
+silken robe, heaved upward by the agony which filled her bosom; had
+you seen the look, so wild--remorseful--almost mad--which stamped her
+face,--you would have felt the emphasis with which she uttered these
+terrible words, "My husband! How can I ever look into his face again!"
+
+"Your husband," whispered Beverly, with something of the devil in his
+eyes, "your husband, even now, is on his way to Boston, where the
+chosen mistress of his heart awaits him. His brother is at the point
+of death, is he? ha, ha, Joanna! 'Twas a good excuse, but, like all
+excuses, rather lame--when found out. The poor, good, dear Joanna,
+sits at home, pining at her husband's absence, while he, the faithful
+Eugene, consoles himself in the arms of his Boston love!"
+
+"It cannot be! it cannot be!" cried Joanna, beating the carpet with her
+foot, and pressing her clenched hands against her heaving breast.
+
+"Do you see this, darling?" and, throwing the robe of the white monk
+aside, he disclosed his "flashy" scarf, white vest and gold chain. "Do
+you see this, pet?" and from beneath his white vest he drew forth a
+package of letters.--"_Her_ letters to her dear Eugene! How she loves
+him--how she pities him, because he is not married to a _sympathetic_
+soul,--how she counts the hours that must elapse before he comes! It
+is all written here, darling!"
+
+Joanna took the package and passed it absently from one hand to the
+other. "Yes, yes, I read them yesterday! It is true, beyond hope of
+doubt. He loves her!--he loves her!"
+
+"And you,"--Beverly arose and seated himself by her side, winding
+his arm about her waist. "And you, like a brave, noble woman, whose
+dearest affections have been trampled upon,"--he wound his left
+hand amid the rich masses of her golden hair,--"you, like a brave,
+proud heart, whose very May of life has been blighted by a husband's
+treachery,--have _avenged_ yourself upon him!"
+
+He pressed his kiss upon her lips. But the warmth of passion had passed
+away. Her lips were cold. She shrunk from his embrace. The vail had
+fallen from her eyes; the delusion, composed of a mad passion and a mad
+desire for revenge, had left her, and she knew herself to be no longer
+the stainless wife and holy mother--but that thing for which on earth
+there is no forgiveness--an adulteress!
+
+"No, Beverly, no. It will not avail. His fault was no excuse for my
+crime. For his fault affects me only--wrongs me alone--but mine--,"
+there was a choking sensation in her throat--she buried her face in her
+hands--"Oh God! oh God! my child!"
+
+Beverly took a bottle of champagne which stood upon the table, drew the
+cork, and filled two brimming glasses.
+
+"You are nervous, my darling," he said, "take this. Let us pledge each
+other--for the past, forgetfulness--for the future, hope and love."
+
+He stood erect beneath the lamp--his tall form, clad in the robe of
+the white monk, relieved by the very gloom of the luxurious chamber;
+he pressed the glass to his lips, and over its rim surveyed the
+white couch, which looked dim and shadowy in its distant recess,--he
+murmured, "Eugene, your magnificent wife is mine!"
+
+And then drained the glass without moving it from his lips.
+
+She took the glass and drank; but the same wine which an hour ago had
+fired her blood, and completed the delusion of her senses, now only
+added to her remorse and shame.
+
+"My father,--so proud of his name, so proud of the honor of his son,
+the purity of his daughter, how shall I ever meet his eye? how can I
+ever look him in the face again?"
+
+And the image of that stern old man, with wrinkled visage and
+snow-white hair, rose vividly before her. Her father was an aristocrat
+of the old school--proud, not of his money, but of his blood. The royal
+blood of Orange flowed in his veins. Loving his only daughter better
+than his own soul, he would have put her to death with his own hand,
+sooner than she should incur even the suspicion of dishonor.
+
+"Pshaw, Joanna! He need never know anything about the adventures
+of this night. You have been slighted, and you have taken your
+revenge;--that is all. No one need know anything about it. You will
+mingle in society as usual; these things, my darling, are almost things
+of course in the fashionable world, among the 'upper ten.' Among the
+beautiful dames whom you see at the opera, on a 'grand night,' how many
+do you suppose would waste one thought of regret upon an adventure like
+this?"
+
+Joanna buried her burning temples in her hands. All of her life rushed
+before her. Her childhood--the days of her pure maidenhood--the hour
+of her marriage, when she gave herself to the husband who idolized
+her,--the hour of her travail, when she gave birth to her child,--all
+rushed upon her, with the voices, tones, faces of other days,
+commingled in one brief but vivid panorama.
+
+"You see, my pet, you know but little of the world," continued
+Beverly. "In the very dawn of your beauty, ignorant of the world, and
+of the value of your own loveliness, you wedded Eugene. Life was a
+rose-colored dream to you; you thought of him only as the ideal of your
+existence. You thought that he regarded you in the same light. You
+did not dream that he would ever regard you simply as the handsomest
+piece of furniture about his splendid establishment,--a splendid
+fixture, destined to bear him children who would perpetuate the name
+of Livingston,--while his roving affections wandered about the world,
+constantly seeking new objects of passionate regard. You never dreamt
+of this, did you, darling?"
+
+Joanna uttered a groan. Pressing her hands to her throbbing temples,
+she felt her bosom swell, but could not frame a word.
+
+"Now, my dear, you are a woman; you know something of the world. Like
+hundreds of others of your wealth and station, you can, under the vail
+of decorum, select the object of a passionate attachment, and indulge
+your will at pleasure. A bright future, rich in love and in all that
+makes life dear, is before you----"
+
+And Beverly drew her to him, putting one arm about her neck, while his
+left hand girdled her bosom. As he kissed her, her golden hair floated
+over his face and shoulders.
+
+At this moment the door opened without a sound, and a man wrapped in a
+cloak, with a cap over his brow, advanced with a noiseless step toward
+the sofa.
+
+It was not until his shadow interposed between them and the light, that
+they beheld him. As Joanna raised her head, struggling to free herself
+from the embrace of her seducer, she beheld the intruder, who had
+lifted his cap from his brow.
+
+"O God, Eugene!" she shrieked, and fell back upon the sofa, not
+fainting, but utterly paralyzed, her limbs as cold as marble, her blood
+turned to ice in her veins.
+
+It was Eugene Livingston. Gently folding his arms, cap in hand, he
+surveyed his wife. His face was turned from the light,--its ghastly
+paleness could not be seen. His cloak hid the heavings of his breast.
+But the light which fired his eyes, met the eyes of his wife, and
+burned into her soul.
+
+He did not speak to her.
+
+Turning from her, he surveyed Beverly Barron, who had started to his
+feet, and who now stood as if suddenly frozen, with something of the
+look and attitude of a man who is condemned to watch a lighted candle,
+as it burns away in the center of a barrel of gunpowder.
+
+Not a word was spoken.
+
+Joanna crouching on the sofa, her chin resting on her clasped
+hands,--Beverly on the floor, his hands outspread, and his face dumb
+with terror,--Eugene standing between them, folding his cloak upon his
+breast, as he silently turned his gaze, first to his wife, and then to
+her seducer.
+
+At length Eugene spoke,--
+
+"Come, Joanna," he said, "here is your father. He will take you home."
+
+She looked up and beheld the straight, military form, the stern visage
+and snow-white hair of her father. One look only, and she sank lifeless
+at his feet. She may have meant to have knelt before him, but as she
+rose from the sofa, or rather, glided from it, she fell like a corpse
+at his feet. The old general's nether lip worked convulsively, but he
+did not speak.
+
+"General, take her to my home, and at once," whispered Eugene.
+"There must be no scandal, no noise, and----" he paused as if
+suffocating,--"no _harshness_, mark you."
+
+The general was a stalwart man, although his hair was white as snow,--a
+man whose well-knit limbs, erect bearing, and sinewy hands, indicated
+physical vigor undimmed by age, but he trembled like a withered leaf as
+he raised his daughter from the floor.
+
+"I will do as you direct, Eugene," he said, in a husky voice.
+
+"You will find her cloak in the next room," said Eugene, "and the
+carriage is at the door."
+
+The general girded his insensible daughter in his arms, and bore her
+from the room. As he crossed the threshold, he groaned like a dying man.
+
+Eugene and Beverly were alone. Beverly at a rapid glance surveyed the
+room. Eugene stood between him and the door; he turned to the windows,
+which were covered with thick curtains. Those windows were three
+stories high. There was no hope of escape by the windows.
+
+"Will you take a chair, my friend," said Eugene.
+
+Beverly sank into a chair, near the table; as he seated himself, he
+felt his knees bend beneath him, and his heart leap to his throat.
+
+Eugene took a chair opposite, and shading his eyes with his hand,
+surveyed the seducer. There was silence for a few moments, a silence
+during which both these men endured the agonies of the damned.
+
+"You have a daughter, I believe," said Eugene, in a voice that was
+broken by a tremor. "You may wish to send some word to her. Here is a
+pencil and tablets. Let me ask you to be brief."
+
+He flung the pencil and tablets upon the table. Beverly recoiled as
+though a serpent had stung him.
+
+"Eugene," he faltered, for the first time finding words, "you--you do
+not mean to murder me?"
+
+And his florid face grew ashy with abject terror.
+
+Eugene did not reply, but knocked twice upon the marble table with his
+clenched hand. Scarcely had the echo of the sound died away, when the
+door was once more opened, and two persons advanced to the table.
+
+The first was a tall, muscular man, with a phlegmatic face, light hair,
+and huge red whiskers. His blue frock-coat was buttoned to the throat,
+and he carried an oblong box in his hands.
+
+"Joanna's brother!" ejaculated Beverly.
+
+The second person was a dapper little gentleman, with small eyes, a
+hooked nose, and an enormous black moustache. He was dressed in black,
+with a gold chain on his breast, and a diamond pin in his faultless
+shirt bosom.
+
+"Major Barton!" ejaculated Beverly, bounding from his seat, for in
+Major Barton he recognized an old and intimate acquaintance.
+
+"Robert," said Eugene, turning to Joanna's brother, "what have you
+there?"
+
+"The dueling pistols," quietly responded Robert.
+
+"Have you and this gentleman's friend arranged the _preliminaries_?"
+
+"We have," interrupted the dapper Major; "distance, ten paces,--place,
+Weehawk, opposite the city,--time, right off."
+
+"This without consulting me!" cried Beverly, who at the mention of a
+duel, felt a hope lighten up in his heart, for coward as he was, he was
+also a capital shot.
+
+"Gentlemen, I beg to say,----" he drew his White Monk's robe over his
+heart, and assumed a grand air,--"gentlemen,----"
+
+The dapper little major glided to his side,--
+
+"Bev., my boy, better be quiet. Eugene waited on me an hour ago and
+explained all the circumstances,--desired me to act as your friend. As
+I'd rather see you have a chance for your life in a duel, than to see
+you killed in such a house as this, like a dog, I consented. Bev., my
+boy, better be quiet."
+
+"If you don't wish to fight, say so," and the phlegmatic Robert stepped
+forward, eyeing Beverly with a look of settled ferocity, that was not
+altogether pleasant to see,--"if you decline the duel, just say so in
+the presence of your friend, Major Barton. Just say no."
+
+And Robert eyed Beverly from head to foot, as though it would afford
+him much pleasure to pitch him from the third story window.
+
+"I will fight," said Beverly, pale and red by turns.
+
+"Then I'll get your hat, and coat, and cloak," said the obliging
+major,--"they're in the next room. We must leave the house quietly, and
+there's a boat waiting for us, at the foot of the street, or the North
+River. We can cross to the Jersey shore, before morning breaks. It will
+be a nice little affair all among ourselves. By-the-bye, how about a
+surgeon?"
+
+"Yes, a surgeon!" echoed Robert, turning to Eugene, who, seated by the
+table, rested his forehead against his hand.
+
+"We will not need a surgeon," said Eugene, raising his face, from which
+all color of life had fled. "Because our fight is to the death."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+MARY BERMAN--CARL RAPHAEL.
+
+
+They sat near the marriage altar, their hands clasped, and their gaze
+fixed upon each other's face. The countenance of Nameless was radiant
+with a deep joy. One hand resting upon the neck of Mary, the other
+clasping her hand, his soul was in his eyes, as he looked into her
+face. Her hair, brown and wavy, streamed over the hand, which rested on
+her neck. Despite her faded attire,--the gown of coarse calico, and the
+mantilla of black velvet,--Mary was very beautiful; as beautiful as her
+name. All the life which swelled her young bosom, was manifested in the
+bloom of her cheeks, the clear, joyous look of her eyes. Her beauty was
+the purity of a stainless soul, embodied in a person, rich with every
+tint and outline of warm, womanly loveliness.
+
+"Well might my whole being thrill, as you passed by me to-night! Your
+form was vailed, your face hid, but my soul knew that you were near!"
+
+"O, Carl, in all our lives, we will never know a moment of joy so deep
+as this!"--and there was something of a holy sadness in Mary's gaze
+as she spoke,--"After years of sorrow and trial, that might break the
+stoutest hearts, we have met again, like two persons who have risen
+from the grave. The world is so dark, Carl,--so crowded with the
+callous and the base,--that I fear for our future. O, would it not be
+beautiful, yes holy, to die now, in each other's arms, at the moment
+when our hearts are filled with the deepest joy they can ever know?"
+
+The words of the pure girl, uttered in a voice imbued with a melancholy
+enthusiasm, cast a shadow over the face of Nameless, and brought a sad
+intense light to his eyes.
+
+"Yes, Mary, it is even so," he replied,--"it is a harsh and bitter
+world, in which the base and callous-hearted, prey upon those who have
+souls. When I think of my own history, and of yours, it does not seem
+reality, to me, but the images of the past move before me, like the
+half defined shapes of a troubled dream."
+
+And he bent his forehead,--fevered and throbbing with thought, upon her
+bosom, and listened to the beatings of that heart, which had been true
+to him, in every phase of his dark life. She pressed her lips silently
+upon his brow.
+
+"But the future is bright before us, Mary," he whispered, raising
+his face, once more radiant with hope,--"the cottage by the river
+shore, shall be ours again! O, don't you remember it, Mary, as it
+leans against the cliff, with the river stretching before it, and the
+palisades rising far away, into the western sky? We will live there,
+Mary, and forget the world." Alas! he knew not of the poison in his
+veins. "Your father, too,--"
+
+"My father!" she echoed, starting from her chair, as the memory of that
+broken man with the idiot face,--never for a moment forgotten,--came
+vividly before her, "My father! come Carl, let us go to him!"
+
+She wound the mantilla about her form, and Carl, otherwise Nameless,
+also rose from his chair, when a footstep was heard, and the door was
+abruptly opened.
+
+"Leave this house, at once, as you value your life," cried an agitated
+voice,--"You know my father,--know that he will shrink from no crime,
+when his darker nature is aroused,--you have foiled the purpose which
+was more than life to him. There is danger for you in this house! away!"
+
+"Frank!" was all that Nameless could ejaculate, as he saw her stand
+before him, lividly pale, her hair unbound, and the golden cross rising
+and falling upon her heaving bosom. There was a light in her eyes,
+which he had never seen before.
+
+"No words," she continued in broken and rapid tones,--"you must away
+at once. You are not safe from poison,"--a bitter, mocking smile,--"or
+steel, or any treachery, as long as you linger in this house. But this
+is no time for masquerade attire,--in the next room you will find the
+apparel which you wore, when first you entered this house, together
+with a cloak, which will protect you from the cold. You have no time
+to lose,--give me that bauble," and she tore the chain from his neck
+and the golden cross from his breast,--"away,--you have not a moment to
+lose." She pointed to the door.
+
+"Frank!" again ejaculated Nameless, and something like remorse smote
+his heart, as he gazed upon her countenance, so sadly changed.
+
+"Will you drive me mad? Go!" again she pointed to the door.
+
+Nameless disappeared.
+
+"And you,--" she took the hands of Mary within her own, and raised
+them to her breast, and gazed long and earnestly into that virgin
+face,--"You, O, I hate you!" she said her eyes flashing fire, and
+yet the next moment, she kissed Mary on the cheeks and forehead, and
+pressed her to her bosom with a frenzied embrace. "You are worthy of
+him," she said slowly, in a low voice, again perusing every line of
+that countenance,--"I know you, although an hour ago, I did not know
+that you lived;" once more her tones were rapid and broken,--"know
+your history, know who it was that lured you to this place, and know
+the desolate condition of your father. Your husband has money, but
+it will not be safe for him to attempt to use it for some days. Take
+this,--conceal it in your bosom,--nay, I will take no denial. Take it
+child! That money and purse are not the wages of pollution,--they were
+both mine, in the days when I was pure and happy."
+
+Scarcely knowing what to do, Mary, whom the wild manner of Frank,
+struck at once with pity and awe, took the purse, and hid it in her
+bosom.
+
+"I now remember you," said Mary, her eyes filling with tears, as she
+gazed into the troubled face of Frank,--"Father painted your picture,
+and afterward you sought us out in our garret, and left your purse upon
+the table, with a note stating that it contained the balance due on
+your portrait. O, it was kind, it was noble,--"
+
+"Do not speak of it, child," Frank said in rapid and abrupt
+tones,--"Had I not been convinced that you and your father were dead, I
+would have visited you often. That is, if I could have concealed from
+you what I was, and the way of life which was mine."
+
+Her lip quivered, and she hid her eyes with her hand.
+
+"But come, your husband is here," she said, as Nameless re-appeared,
+his form once more clad in the faded frock-coat, but with a cloak
+drooping from his shoulders. "You must away, and at once."
+
+"Frank,"--and Nameless, trembling with agitation, approached her, "we
+will meet again in happier hours."
+
+O, the strange look of her eyes, the bitter mocking curl of her lip!
+
+"We will never meet again," she answered, in a voice that sunk into his
+heart. Then burying the chain and golden cross in her bosom, she placed
+a letter in his hand,--"Swear to me that you will not read this, until
+three hours at least are passed?"
+
+"I promise,--"
+
+"Nay, you must swear it,--"
+
+"I swear, in the sight of Heaven!"
+
+"Now depart, and,--" she turned her face away from their gaze, and
+pointed to the door.
+
+As she turned away, Mary approached her, and put her arms about her
+neck, and her eyes brim full of tears all the while,--kissed her on the
+forehead and the lips, saying at the same time, and from the depths of
+her heart, "May God in Heaven bless you!"
+
+Frank took Mary's arms from her neck, and joined her hand in that of
+Nameless, and then pushed them gently to the door,--"Go, and at once,"
+she whispered.
+
+And they crossed the threshold, Mary looking back over her shoulder,
+until she disappeared with Nameless, in the shadows of the passage.
+
+Frank stood with one hand extended to the door, and the other
+supporting her averted face,--she heard their footsteps in the passage,
+on the stairway, and in the hall beneath. Then came the sound of the
+opening and closing of the door, which led into the street.
+
+And then the agony, the despair, the thousand emotions which racked
+her soul, found utterance in the simple, and yet awfully touching
+ejaculation,--"O, my God!--" and she flung herself on her knees, before
+the Marriage Altar, resting her clenched hands upon the Holy Bible,
+which was concealed by her bowed head, and unbound hair.
+
+"O, my God! He is gone, and--forever!"
+
+Yes, Frank, woman so beautiful and so utterly lost, gone and
+forever--gone, with his young wife by his side, and Poison in his
+veins.
+
+
+
+
+PART FIFTH.
+
+THE DAWN, SUNRISE AND DAY.
+
+DECEMBER 24, 1844.
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+"THE OTHER CHILD."
+
+
+Baffled schemer!
+
+In the dim hour which comes before the break of day, Colonel Tarleton
+was hurrying rapidly along the silent and deserted street.
+
+Broadway, a few hours since, all light, and life, and motion, was
+now lonely as a desert. Gathering his cloak over his white coat, and
+drawing his cap lower upon his brows, Tarleton hurried along with a
+rapid and impetuous step, now and then suffering the thoughts which
+filled him, to find vent in broken ejaculations.
+
+"Baffled schemer!" he exclaimed aloud, and then his thoughts arranged
+themselves into words:--"Why do those words ring in my ears? They do
+not apply to me; let me but live twenty-four hours, and all the schemes
+which I have worked and woven for twenty-one long years, will find
+their end in a grand, a final triumph. Baffled schemer! No,--not yet,
+nor never! This boy who was to marry Frank, will _fade away_ in a few
+hours, and make no sign; and now for the other child. I must hasten to
+the house of old Somers,--his 'private secretary' must be mine before
+daybreak. The hour is unusual, the son lies dead in one room,--the
+father in the other; but I must enter the house at all hazards,
+for,--for,--the _only remaining child_ of Gulian Van Huyden, must be in
+my power before daybreak."
+
+And he hurried along toward the head of Broadway, through the silent
+city. Even in the gloom, the agitation which possessed him, was plainly
+discernible. The hand which held the cloak upon his breast was tightly
+clenched, and, as he passed through the light of a lamp, you might
+note his compressed lip, his colorless cheek, and eyes burning with
+intense thought. His whole life swept before him like a panorama.
+The day when the wife and mother lay dead in her palace home, while
+Gulian, his brother, clutched him with a death-grip as he plunged into
+the river,--the years which he had gayly passed in Paris, and the
+horrible years which he had endured in the felon's cell,--the happy
+childhood, and the irrevocable shame of his daughter, sold by her own
+mother into the arms of lust and gold,--his duel with young Somers,
+whom he had first murdered, and then smuggled his corpse into his
+father's home,--the scenes which he had this night witnessed in the
+Temple, beginning with his interview with Ninety-One, and ending in the
+marriage of Frank and Nameless, and the apparition of Mary Berman,--all
+flitted before him like the phantoms of a spectral panorama.
+
+"And the next twenty-four hours will decide all! Courage, brain, you
+have never yet despaired,--" he struck his clenched hand against his
+forehead,--"do not fail me now!"
+
+Turning from Broadway, as the night grew darker, he entered the street
+in which the house of Evelyn Somers, Sr., was situated. He was rapidly
+approaching that house,--cogitating what manner of excuse he should
+make to the servants for his call at such an unusual hour,--when he
+was startled by the sound of footsteps. He paused, where a street lamp
+flung its light over the pavement. Shading his eyes, he beheld two
+figures approaching through the gloom. He glided from the light, and
+stationed himself against the wall, so that he could see the figures
+as they passed, himself unseen. The steps drew near and nearer, and
+presently from the gloom the figures passed into the light. A man,
+wrapped in a cloak, with a broad _sombrero_ drooping over his face,
+supported on his arm the form of a youth, who, clad in a closely
+buttoned frock-coat, trembled from weakness, or from the winter's cold.
+The face of the man was in shadow, but the light shone fully on the
+face of the youth as he passed by.
+
+Tarleton, with great difficulty, suppressed an ejaculation and an oath.
+
+For in that boy who leaned tremblingly upon the arm of the cloaked man,
+he recognized the _Private Secretary_ of the merchant prince!
+
+"Courage, my poor boy,"--Tarleton heard the cloaked man utter these
+words, as he passed by,--"it was a happy impulse which led me to leave
+my carriage, and walk along this street. I arrived just in time to save
+you; it is but a step to my carriage, and once in my carriage you will
+tell me all."
+
+"O, sir, you will protect me,"--the voice of the youth was tremulous
+and broken,--"you will protect me from this man----"
+
+And with these words they passed from the light into the gloom again.
+
+Tarleton stood for a moment, as though nailed to the wall against which
+he leaned. He could not believe the evidence of his senses. That the
+boy, Gulian Van Huyden, the private secretary had left the mansion of
+the merchant prince, at this strange hour, and was now in the care of
+a man whom he, Tarleton, did not know; this fact was plain enough, but
+Tarleton could not believe it. He stood as though nailed to the wall,
+while the footsteps of the retreating figures resounded through the
+stillness. At length, with a violent effort, he recovered his presence
+of mind.
+
+"I will follow them and reclaim _my child_!" he ejaculated, and
+gathering his cloak across the lower part of his face, hurried once
+more toward Broadway.
+
+But as he discovered the distance between himself and the figures
+of the cloaked man and the youth, his purpose failed him, he knew
+not why,--he dared not address the man, much less seize the boy,
+Gulian,--but he still hung upon their back, watching their every
+movement, himself unobserved.
+
+Meanwhile, a thousand vague suspicions and fears flitted through his
+mind.
+
+At the head of Broadway, in the light of a lamp, stood a carriage,
+with a coachman in dark livery on the box. The horses, black as jet,
+stood, beating the pavement with their hoofs, and champing their bits
+impatiently.
+
+The unknown paused beside this carriage, still supporting the boy,
+Gulian, on his arm.
+
+"Felix," he said, in a low voice, addressing the coachman, who started
+up at the sound of his voice, "drive at once, and with all speed, to
+_the house yonder_,"--he pointed to the north.
+
+"Yes, my lord," was the answer of the coachman.
+
+"And you, poor boy," continued the unknown, thus addressed as "my
+lord," turning to young Gulian,--"enter, and be safe hereafter from all
+fear of persecution." He opened the carriage door, and Gulian entered,
+followed by the unknown.
+
+And the next moment the sound of the wheels was heard, and the carriage
+passing Union Square and rolling away toward the north.
+
+Tarleton, who had, unobserved, beheld this scene, started from the
+shadows and approached the lamp. He clenched his teeth in helpless rage.
+
+"I saw his face for an instant, ere he entered the carriage, and as
+his cloak fell aside, I noticed the golden cross on his breast; and
+I neither like his cadaverous face, nor the golden cross. Why,--"
+he stamped angrily upon the pavement,--"why do I hate and fear this
+man whom I have never seen before?--'my lord!'--the cross on his
+breast,--perchance a dignitary of the Catholic Church! Ah! he will
+wring the secret from this weak and superstitious boy. All, all is
+lost!"
+
+He was roused from this fit of despair and rage by the sound of
+carriage wheels. It was a hackney coach, returning homeward, the horses
+weary, and the driver lolling sleepily on the box.
+
+Tarleton darted forward and stopped the horses.
+
+"Do you want to earn five dollars for an hour's ride?" he said, "if
+so, strike up Broadway, and follow a dark carriage drawn by two black
+horses," and he mounted the box, and took his seat beside the coachman.
+
+The latter gentleman waking up from his half slumber, and very wroth at
+the manner in which his horses had been stopped, and his box invaded,
+forthwith consigned Tarleton to a place which it is not needful to
+name, adding significantly,--
+
+"An' if yer don't git down, I'll mash yer head,--if I don't,--" etc.,
+etc.
+
+"Pshaw! don't you know me?" cried Tarleton, lifting his cap,--"follow
+the carriage yonder, and I'll make it ten dollars for half an hour's
+ride."
+
+"Why, it _is_ the colonel!" responded the mollified hackman.--"My team
+is blowed, colonel, but you're a brick, and here goes! Up Broadway did
+you say?--let her rip!"
+
+He applied the whip to his wearied horses, and away they dashed,
+passing Union Square, and entering upper Broadway.
+
+"That the carriage, colonel?" asked the driver, as they heard the sound
+of wheels in front of them, "that concern as looks blacker than a stack
+of black cats?"
+
+"It is. Follow it. Do not let the coachman know that we are in pursuit.
+Follow it carefully, and at a proper distance."
+
+And the hackney coach followed the carriage of the unknown, until they
+passed from the shadows of the houses into the open country. Some four
+miles at least from the city hall, the carriage turned from one of the
+avenues, into a narrow lane, leading among the rocks, over a hill and
+down toward the North River.
+
+The colonel jumped from the box.
+
+"Wait for me here,--I'll not be long. Drive a little piece up the
+avenue, so that you will not be noticed, in case this carriage should
+return. Wait for me, I say,--for every hour I will give you ten
+dollars."
+
+With these words he hurried up the hill, in pursuit of the retreating
+carriage. The ground was frosted and broken,--huge rocks blocked up
+the path on either hand, and on the hill-top stood a clump of leafless
+trees. Pausing beneath these trees, the colonel endeavored to discern
+the carriage through the darkness, but in vain. But he heard the sound
+of the wheels as they rolled over the hard ground in the valley below.
+
+"It cannot go far. This lane terminates at the river, only two or three
+hundred yards away. Ah! I remember,--half-way between the hill and the
+river there is an old mansion which I noticed last summer, and which
+has not been occupied for years."
+
+The sound of the wheels suddenly ceased. The colonel drew the cord of
+his cloak about his neck, so as to permit his arms full play. Then from
+one pocket of his overcoat he drew forth a revolver, and from the other
+a bowie-knife. Grasping a weapon firmly in each hand, he stealthily
+descended the hill, and on tip-toe approached the carriage, which had
+indeed halted in front of the old mansion.
+
+The mansion, a strange and incongruous structure, built of stone, and
+brick, and wood, and enlarged from the original block house, which it
+had been two hundred years before, by the additions made by five or six
+generations, stood in a garden, apart from the road, its roofs swept
+by the leafless branches of gigantic forest-trees. In summer, quaint
+and incongruous as were the outlines of the huge edifice, it put on a
+beautiful look, for it was embowered in foliage, and its many roofs and
+walls of brick, and wood and stone, were hidden in a garment of vines
+and flowers. But now, in the blackness of this drear winter daybreak,
+it was black and desolate enough. Not a single light shed a cheerful
+ray, from any of the windows.
+
+Gliding behind the trunk of a sycamore, the colonel heard the voice of
+the unknown man, as he conducted the boy, Gulian, from the carriage
+along the garden walk toward the hall door.
+
+"Here you will be safe from all intrusion. I must return to the city at
+once, but I will be back early in the morning. Meanwhile, you can take
+a quiet sleep. You are not afraid to sleep in the old house, are you?"
+
+"Oh, no, no,--afraid of nothing but _his_ persecution," was the answer.
+
+The colonel heard these words, and watched the figures of the unknown
+and Gulian, as they passed from the garden walk under the shadow of the
+porch, and into the hall door.
+
+And then he waited,--O how earnestly and with what a tide of hopes,
+suspicions, fears!--for the re-appearance of the unknown!
+
+Five minutes passed.
+
+"The boy has not had time to confess _the secret_,"--the thought almost
+rose to the colonel's lips.--"If this unknown man returns to town,
+leaving Gulian here, all will yet be well."
+
+The hall-door opened again, was locked, and the form of the unknown, in
+cloak and sombrero, once more appeared upon the garden walk.
+
+"To town, Felix, as fast as you can drive. I must be back within two
+hours."
+
+"Yes, my lord."
+
+He entered the carriage,--it turned,--and the horses dashed up the
+narrow road at full speed.
+
+"Two hours!" ejaculated Tarleton, as the sound of the wheels died away.
+"In two hours, 'my lord!' you will find the nest robbed of its bird."
+
+Determined at all hazards to rescue the person of the boy, Gulian, and
+bear him from the old mansion, he opened the wicket gate, and, passing
+along the garden walk, approached the silent mansion. The wind sighed
+mournfully among the leafless branches, and not a single ray of light
+illumined the front of the gloomy pile.
+
+The colonel passed under the porch, and tried the hall door; it was
+locked. With a half-muttered curse, he again emerged from the porch,
+and from the garden walk, once more surveyed the mansion.
+
+Could he believe his eyes? From a narrow window, in the second story of
+the western wing, a ray of light stole out upon the gloom--stole out
+from an aperture in the window curtains--and trembled like a golden
+thread along the garden walk.
+
+"The window is low,--the room is a part of the olden portion of the
+mansion,--that lattice work, intended for the vines, will bear my
+weight; one blow at the window-sash, and I am in the chamber!"
+
+Thus reflecting, the colonel, ere he began to mount the lattice work,
+looked cautiously around and listened. All was dark; no sound was
+heard, save the low moan of the wind among the trees. Tarleton placed
+the revolver in one pocket, and buried the bowie-knife in its sheath.
+Then he began cautiously to ascend the lattice work, along which, in
+summer time, crept a green and flowering vine; it creaked beneath his
+weight, but did not break,--in a moment he was on a level with the
+narrow window. Resting his arms upon the deep window-sill, he placed
+his eye to the aperture in the curtains, and looked within.
+
+He beheld a small room, with low ceiling, and wainscoted walls; a door,
+which evidently opened upon the corridor leading to the body of the
+mansion; a couch, with a canopy of faded tapestry; the floor of dark
+wood, uncarpeted, and its once polished surface thick with dust; a
+bureau of ebony, surmounted by an oval mirror in a frame of tarnished
+gilt. The light stood upon the bureau; and, in front of the light, an
+alabaster image of the crucified.
+
+Before this image, with head bowed upon his clasped hands, knelt the
+boy, Gulian. The light shone upon his glossy hair, which fell to
+his shoulders, and over the outlines of his graceful shape. He was
+evidently absorbed in voiceless prayer.
+
+Altogether, it was a singular--yes, a beautiful picture. But the
+Colonel had no time to waste on pictures, however beautiful.
+
+He placed his arm against the sash--it yielded--and the colonel sprang
+through the window into the room.
+
+Gulian heard the crash, and started up, and beheld the colonel standing
+near him, his arms folded on his breast, and his face stamped with a
+look of fiendish triumph.
+
+"Oh, my God!" he ejaculated, and stood as if spell-bound by terror.
+
+"You see it is all in vain," said the Colonel, showing his white teeth
+in a smile. "You cannot escape from me. You must do my will. Come, my
+child, we must be moving."
+
+He placed Gulian's cap upon his chesnut curls, and pointed to the door.
+
+The eyes of the poor youth were wild with affright. He evidently stood
+in mortal terror of Tarleton. His glance roved from side to side, and
+he ejaculated--
+
+"In his power again; just as I thought myself forever safe from his
+persecution!"
+
+"Answer me--where did you meet the man who brought you to this house?"
+
+As he spoke, Tarleton seized the boy by the wrist.
+
+"In the street; I had fainted on the sidewalk," was the answer, in a
+tremulous voice.
+
+"And how came you in the street at such an unusual hour?"
+
+"When you left Mr. Somers' house, you threatened to return to-morrow,"
+answered Gulian, clasping his hands over his breast. "I was determined
+to avoid seeing you again, at all hazards. I left the house, and
+wandered forth, uncertain whither to direct my steps. Yes--oh yes!
+I had one purpose plainly in my mind,"--he smiled, and his eyes
+brightened up with a strange light,--"I resolved to bend my steps to
+the river."
+
+"To the river?"
+
+"Yes, to the river," answered the boy, with a singular smile: "for you
+know that if I was drowned, I would be safe from you forever."
+
+"And you would become a--suicide!" said Tarleton, with a sneer; "you,
+so finely brought up! Have you no fear of the hereafter?"
+
+Gulian's pale face lighted with a faint glow.--"There are some deeds
+which are worse than suicide," he answered quietly, yet with a
+significant glance. "It was to avoid the commission of one of these
+deeds, that, scarcely an hour ago, I left the house of Mr. Somers and
+bent my steps to the river."
+
+"And you fainted, and this man came across you while you were
+insensible--eh? Who is he? and what was it that led him from his
+carriage, along the street where he found you?"
+
+"An impulse, or presentiment, as he told me, which he could not resist,
+and which impressed him that he might save the life of a fellow-being.
+He left his carriage; he arrived before it was too late. In a little
+while I should have been frozen to death."
+
+Again Tarleton seized the boy by the wrist; and his brow grew dark, his
+eyes fierce and threatening.
+
+"And you confessed _the secret_ to this man?" he exclaimed. "Nay, deny
+it not!" He tightened his grasp. "You did confess--did you not?"
+
+"Oh, pity!--do not harm me!" and Gulian shrunk before Tarleton's gaze.
+"I did not confess _the secret_--indeed I did not."
+
+"Swear you did not!"
+
+"I swear I did not!"
+
+"I will not believe you, unless you will place your hand upon this
+crucifix, and swear by the Savior, that you did not reveal _the
+secret_."
+
+The boy placed his hand upon the alabaster image, and said solemnly,
+"By the name of the Savior, I swear that I did not reveal _the secret_
+of which you speak."
+
+Tarleton burst into a laugh.
+
+"I breathe freer!" he cried. "You are superstitious; and, with your
+hand upon an image like that, I know you cannot lie. _The secret_ is
+safe, and all will yet be well. Come, we must go."
+
+"Oh, you do not want me now!" cried Gulian, shrinking away from his
+grasp--"now that you are assured of the security of _the secret_?"
+
+"Worse than ever, my boy," cried Tarleton, with a tone of mocking
+gayety. "I am positively starving to death for your company. To-day and
+to-morrow you must be with me all the time, and never for an instant
+quit my sight. After that you are free!"
+
+The countenance of Gulian, in which a masculine vigor of thought was
+tempered by an almost woman-like roundness of outline and softness of
+expression, underwent a sudden and peculiar change.
+
+"I will not go with you," he said, slowly and firmly, his eyes shining
+vividly, while his face was unnaturally pale.
+
+"You will not go with me?" and Tarleton advanced with a scowling
+brow--"We'll see, we'll see,--"
+
+"I will not go with you," repeated Gulian. "You call me superstitious.
+It may be superstition which makes my blood run cold with loathing,
+when you are near me; or it may be some voiceless warning from the
+dead, who, while in this life, were deeply injured by you. But it is
+not superstition which induces me to place my hand upon this crucifix,
+and tell you, that you cannot drag me from it, save at peril of your
+life. Ah, you sneer! The house is deserted:--true. The crucifix of
+frail alabaster:--true. But you are fairly warned. The moment that
+crucifix breaks, to you is one of peril."
+
+Tarleton knew not what to make of the expression and words of the boy.
+At first there was something in the look of Gulian which touched him,
+against his will; but, as the closing words fell on his car, he burst
+into a laugh. "Come, child, we'll leave the house by the hall door,"
+he said; and, as he passed an arm around Gulian's waist, he placed the
+other hand upon the door which led into the passage: "Nay, you need
+not cling to that bauble! Come! I'll endure this nonsense no longer--"
+
+The alabaster image was crushed in the grasp of Gulian, as he was torn
+from it; and at the same instant the colonel opened the door.
+
+Gulian, struggling in the grasp of Tarleton, clapped his hands twice,
+and cried aloud: "Cain! Cain!"
+
+The next moment it seemed as though a crushing weight had bounded, or
+been hurled, against the colonel's back; he was dashed to the floor;
+he found himself struggling in the fangs of a huge dog, with short,
+shaggy hair, black as jet, short ears, and formidable jaws. As the dog
+uttered a low growl, his teeth sank deep into the back of Tarleton's
+neck, and Tarleton uttered a groan of intolerable agony. Tarleton was
+dragged along the floor, by the ferocious beast, which raised him by
+the neck, and then dashed him to the floor again; treating him as the
+tiger treats the prey which he is about to strangle and kill.
+
+Cain was indeed a ferocious beast. He had accompanied the unknown over
+half the globe; and was obedient to his slightest sign; defending those
+whom he wished defended, and attacking those whom he wished attacked.
+Before leaving the mansion, the unknown had placed Cain before the
+door of Gulian's room, and given Gulian into its charge. "Guard him,
+Cain! obey him, Cain!" And, as Tarleton opened the door, at a sign and
+a word from Gulian, the dog proved faithful to his master's bidding.
+In the grasp of this formidable animal, Tarleton now found himself
+writhing--his blood spurting over the floor, as he was dragged along.
+
+As Gulian beheld this scene, and heard the cries of Tarleton mingling
+with the low growl of the dog, his heart relented. He forgot all that
+Tarleton had made him suffer.
+
+"Cain! Cain!--here, Cain!--here!" he cried; but in vain. Cain had
+tasted blood. His teeth twined deep in his victim's neck; and his jaws
+reddened with Tarleton's blood; he did not hear the voice of Gulian.
+
+It was a terrible moment for Tarleton. Uttering frightful imprecations
+between his howls of pain, he made a last and desperate effort--an
+effort strengthened by despair and by pain, which seemed as the pang of
+death,--he turned, even as the teeth of the dog were in his neck; he
+clenched the infuriated animal by the throat. Then took place a brief
+but horrible contest, in which the dog and the man rolled over each
+other, the man clutching, as with a death-grasp, the throat of the dog,
+and the dog burying his teeth in the man's shoulder.
+
+Gulian could bear the sight no longer; he sank, half fainting, against
+the bureau, and hid his eyes from the light.
+
+Presently, the uproar of the combat--the growl of the dog, and the
+cries of Tarleton--were succeeded by a dead stillness.
+
+Gulian raised his eyes.
+
+Tarleton stood in the center of the room, his face and white coat
+bathed in blood--his bowie-knife, also dripping with blood, held aloft
+in his right hand. He presented a frightful spectacle. His coat was
+rent over the right shoulder, and his mangled flesh was discernible.
+And that face, whose death-like pallor was streaked with blood, bore an
+expression of anguish and of madness, which chilled Gulian's heart but
+to behold.
+
+At his feet was stretched the huge carcass of the dog. The gash across
+his throat, from which the blood was streaming over the floor, had been
+inflicted by the hand of the colonel, in the extremest moment of his
+despair. Cain had fought his last battle. As Tarleton shook the bloody
+knife over his head, the brave old dog uttered his last moan and died.
+
+"It will not do, my child--it will not do," and Tarleton burst into
+a loud and unnatural laugh. "You must go with me! With me; alive or
+dead." He rushed towards Gulian, brandishing the knife. "Oh, you d----d
+wretch! do you know that I've a notion to cut you into pieces, limb by
+limb?"
+
+"Mercy! mercy!" shrieked the boy, falling on his knees, as that face,
+dabbled in blood, and writhing, as with madness, in every feature,
+_glowered_ over him.
+
+But Tarleton did not strike. He placed his hand upon his forehead,
+and made a desperate effort to recall his shattered senses. Suffering
+intolerable physical agony, he was yet firm in the purpose which had
+led him to the old mansion.
+
+"If I can get this boy to the carriage, all will yet be well!" he
+muttered. "I'll faint soon from loss of blood; but not until this boy
+is in my power. Brain, do not fail me now!"
+
+He dropped the bloody knife upon the carcass of the dog; and, taking a
+handkerchief from his pocket, he bound it tightly around his throat.
+Then, lifting his cloak from the floor, he wound it about him, and
+writhed with pain, as it touched the wound on his shoulder.
+
+"Now will you go with me alive, or dead?" He lifted the knife again,
+and advanced to Gulian. "Take your choice. If your choice is life,"--he
+could not refrain a cry of pain--"take the light and go on before me!"
+
+Trembling in every limb, his gaze riveted to the face of Tarleton,
+Gulian took the light, and crossed the threshold of the room. Tarleton
+followed him with measured step, still clutching the knife in his right
+hand.
+
+"On--on!" muttered Tarleton; "attempt to escape, and I strike,--on--,"
+and he reeled like a drunken man, and fell insensible at Gulian's feet.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+RANDOLPH AND HIS BROTHER.
+
+
+The hour of dawn drew near, Randolph was in his own chamber, seated by
+his bed, watching the face of the sleeper, who was slumbering there.
+
+A singular look passed over Randolph's visage, as he held the candle
+over the sleeper's face,--a look hard to define or analyze, for it
+seemed to indicate a struggle between widely different emotions. There
+was compassion and revenge, brotherly love and mortal hatred in that
+look.
+
+For the sleeper was Harry Royalton, of Hill Royal.
+
+The candle burned near and nearer to its socket,--the morning light
+began to mingle with its fading rays,--and still Harry slept on, and
+still Randolph watched, his eyes fixed on his brother's visage, and his
+own face disturbed by opposing emotions.
+
+It was near morning when Harry woke.
+
+"Hey! halloo! what's this?" he cried, starting up in the bed, and
+surveying the spacious apartment,--strange to him,--with a vacant
+stare. "Where am I?"
+
+His gaze fell upon Randolph, who was seated by the bed.
+
+"You here?" and his countenance fell.--"What in the devil does all this
+mean?"
+
+Randolph did not reply. There was a slight trembling of his nether lip,
+and his eyes grew brighter as he fixed his gaze on his brother's face.
+
+"Where's my coat?" cried Harry, surveying his shirt sleeves,
+"and my cravat,"--he passed his hands over his muscular
+throat,--"and--you,--what in the devil are _you_ doing here?"
+
+Randolph, still keeping his gaze on his brother's face, said in a low
+voice,--"I am in my own house, brother."
+
+"Your house?" ejaculated Harry, and then burst into a laugh,--"come,
+now,--don't,--that's too good."
+
+"My own house, to which I brought you some hours ago, after I had
+rescued you from the persons in the cellar----"
+
+"_Rescued_ me?" and an incredulous smile passed over Harry's face as he
+pulled at his bushy whiskers. "Better yet,--ha! ha!--You don't think to
+stuff me with any such damned nonsense?"
+
+Randolph grew paler, but his eye flashed with deeper light.
+
+"Brother, I did rescue you," he said, in the same low voice, as he bent
+forward.--"As we were about to engage in conflict, you fell like a
+dead man on the floor. I took you in my arms; I defended you from the
+negroes who were clamorous for your blood; I bore you to upper air, and
+I, brother, then brought you in a carriage to my home; and I laid you
+on my bed, brother; and when you awoke from your swoon,--awoke with the
+ravings of delirium on your tongue,--I soothed you, until you fell in a
+sound sleep. This is the simple truth, brother."
+
+Harry grew red in the face, then pale,--bit his lip,--pulled his
+whiskers, and then without turning his head, regarded Randolph with a
+sidelong glance. To tell the simple truth, Harry did not know what to
+say. He felt a swelling of the heart, a warmth in his veins, as though
+the magnetic gaze of Randolph had influenced him even against his will.
+
+"You did all this?"--there was a faint tremor in his voice.
+
+"I did, brother,"--Randolph's voice was deep and earnest.
+
+"Why,--why,--did not you kill me, when you had me in your power?"
+
+"Brother, the blood of John Augustus Royalton flows in my veins, and it
+is not like a Royalton to strike a fallen foe."
+
+"And you could have put poison in my drink," hesitated Harry, impressed
+against his will by the manner of his brother.
+
+"I never heard of a Royalton who became a poisoner."
+
+"A _Royalton_? and you call yourself a Royalton?" said Harry, still
+regarding his brother with a sidelong gaze.
+
+Randolph bit his lip, and folded his arms upon his chest, as if to
+choke down the strong emotions which were struggling within him. He did
+not reply.
+
+"I suppose I am your _prisoner_?" asked Harry, intently regarding
+Randolph's face. "You can keep me secluded until the twenty-fifth of
+December has passed. Is that the dodge?"
+
+"Brother, the door is open, and the way is free, whenever you wish to
+leave this house," was Randolph's calm reply.
+
+"Well, if I can make you out, may I be ----!" cried Harry, and the next
+moment uttered a groan of agony, for his back was very painful. "Why
+did you not take me to my hotel?" he said, in a peevish, impatient tone.
+
+"You forget that I did not know the name of your hotel," replied
+Randolph, "and beside, what place so fitting for a sick man as his
+brother's home?"
+
+Harry grew red in the face, and then burst into a laugh.--"We've been
+such good _brothers_ to each other!"
+
+The thought which had been working at Randolph's heart for hours, now
+found utterance in words,--
+
+"Brother, O, brother! why can we not indeed be brothers?" his eyes
+flashed, his voice was deep and impassioned. "Children of one father,
+let us forget the past; let us bury all bitter memories, all feelings
+of hatred,--let us forget, forgive, and be as brothers to each other.
+Harry Royalton, my brother, there is my hand."
+
+He rose,--his chest heaving, his eyes dimmed by tears,--and reached
+forth his hand.
+
+Harry, completely overwhelmed by this unexpected appeal, reached forth
+his hand, but drew it back again.
+
+"No," he cried, as his face was flushed,--"not with a nigger." The
+contempt, the scorn, the rage which convulsed his face, as he said
+these words, cannot be depicted.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE HUSBAND AND THE PROFLIGATE.
+
+
+The boat was upon the river, borne onward over the wintery waves and
+through the floating ice, by the strong arms of two sturdy oarsmen.
+
+Behind, like a huge black wall, was the city, a faint line of light
+separating its roofs from the bleak sky. Around were the waves, loaded
+with piles of floating ice, which crashed together with incessant
+uproar; and through the gloom the boat drove onward, bearing one man,
+perchance two men, to certain death.
+
+Eugene and Robert, muffled in their cloaks, sat side by side on the
+stern; Beverly and his friend, the major, also muffled in their cloaks,
+sat side by side in the bow.
+
+Eugene had drawn his cloak over his face as if to hide even from the
+faint light, the agony which was gnawing at his heart-strings.
+
+"In case anything should happen," whispered Robert, "have you any
+message to send to _her_?"
+
+"None," was the reply, uttered in a choking voice.
+
+"Damn her!" said Robert, between his teeth.
+
+Meanwhile, in the bow of the boat, Beverly, shuddering within his
+thick cloak, not so much from cold as from a mental cause, said to his
+friend, the major,--
+
+"No way to get out o' this, I suppose, major?"
+
+"None," said the major.
+
+"I'd give a horse for a mouthful of good brandy----"
+
+"Here it is," and the major drew a wicker flask from the folds of his
+cloak. "I always carry a pocket-pistol; touch her light."
+
+It may be that Beverly "touched her light," but he held the flask to
+his mouth for a long time, and did not return it to the major until its
+contents were considerably diminished.
+
+"A cursed scrape," he muttered. "If anything happens, what'll become of
+my daughter?" It seems he had a motherless child,--"and then there's
+the Van Huyden estate. If he wings me, all my hope of that is gone,--of
+course it is."
+
+At length the broad river was crossed, and the oarsmen ran the boat
+into a sheltered cove, some three miles above Hoboken.
+
+The first glimpse of the coming morn stole over the broad river, the
+distant city, and the magnificent bay.
+
+"Wait for us,--you know what I told you?" said Robert to the oarsmen,
+who were stout fellows, in rough overcoats, and tarpaulin hats.
+
+"Ay, ay sir," they responded in a breath.
+
+"Major, you lead the way," said Robert, "up the heights we'll find a
+quiet place."
+
+The Major took Beverly by the arm, and began to climb the steep ascent,
+over wildly scattered rocks, and among leafless trees.
+
+They were followed by Robert and Eugene arm in arm.
+
+After much difficult wayfaring, they reached the summit of the heights,
+just in time to catch the first ray of the rising sun, as it shot
+upward, among the leaden clouds of the eastern horizon.
+
+All at once the steeples of the city caught the glow, and the distant
+day blushed scarlet and gold on every wave.
+
+Among the heights,--may be some three miles above Hoboken,--there is
+a quiet nook, imbosomed, in the summer time, in foliage, and opening
+to the south-east, in a view of the Empire City, and Manhattan Bay. A
+place as level as a floor, bounded on all sides save one, by oak, and
+chestnut and cedar, with great rocks piled like monuments of a long
+passed age, among the massive trunks. It is green in summer time, with
+a carpet-like sward, and then the tree branches are woven together by
+fragrant vines; there are flowers about the rocks and around the roots
+of the old trees,--a balmy, drowsy atmosphere of June pervades the
+place. And looking to the east, or south-east, you see the broad river
+dotted with snowy sails, the great city, with its steeples glittering
+in the light, and with the calm, clear, vast Heaven arching overhead.
+The Bay gleams in the distance, white with sails, or shadowed here
+and there by the steamer's cloud of smoke, and far away Staten Island
+closes the horizon like a wall. Standing by one of these huge rocks,
+encircled by the trees, and steeped in the quiet of the place, you gaze
+upon the distant city, like one contemplating a far off battle-field,
+in which millions are engaged, and the fate of empires is the stake.
+A sadder battle-field, sun never shone upon, than the Empire City, in
+which millions are battling every moment of the hour, and battling all
+life long for fame, for wealth, for bread, for life. Sometimes the
+quiet nook rings with the laugh of happy children, who come here to
+stretch themselves upon the grass, and gather flowers among the rocks,
+and around the nooks of the grand old trees.
+
+Far different is the scene on this drear winter morning. The trees are
+leafless; they raise their skeleton arms against the cold bleak sky.
+The rocks, no longer clad in vines and flowers, are grim and bare, with
+crowns of snow upon their summits. The glade itself, no longer clad
+with velvet-like sward, is faded and brown. The rising sun trembles
+through the leafless trees, invests the rocks with a faint glow of rosy
+light, and falls along the brown surface of the glade, investing it for
+a moment with a cheerful gleam.
+
+And in the light of the rising sun, in sight of river, city, and
+distant bay, two men stand ready for the work of death.
+
+The ground is measured; the seconds stand apart; before the fatal word
+is given, the combatants survey each other.
+
+Eugene, with bared head, stands on the north, his slender form
+enveloped in a closely buttoned frock-coat. He is lividly pale, but
+the hand which grasps the pistol does not tremble. Notwithstanding the
+bitter cold, there is moisture on his forehead; the fire which burns in
+his eyes, tells you that his emotion is anything but fear. One glance
+toward the city,--one thought perhaps of other days,--and he is ready.
+
+Opposite, in the south, his hat drawn over his flaxen curls, his tall
+form enveloped in a close fitting frock-coat, Beverly with an uncertain
+eye and trembling hand, is nerving himself for the fatal moment. He is
+afraid. As he catches a glimpse of the face of Eugene, his heart dies
+within him. All color has forsook his usually florid face.
+
+"Gentlemen, you will fire when I give the word,--" cries Major Barton
+from the background of withered shrubbery. "Are you ready?"
+
+But at this moment the voice of Beverly is heard--"Eugene! Eugene!" he
+cries, and starts forward, rapidly diminishing the ten paces, which lie
+between them--"Eugene! Eugene! my friend--can I make no apology, no
+reparation--"
+
+Both Robert and the Major, saw Eugene's face, as he turned toward the
+seducer. The sun, which had been obscured by a passing cloud, shone out
+again, and shone full upon the face of Eugene. The look which stamped
+every line of that bronzed visage, was never forgotten by those who
+beheld it. O, the withering scorn of the lip, the concentrated hatred
+of the dark eyes, the utter loathing which impressed every lineament!
+
+"_Friend_!" he echoed, as for a moment he looked Beverly in the
+face--and then turning to Barton, he said quietly: "Major take your man
+away. If he is a coward as well as a scoundrel, let us know it."
+
+The look appalled Beverly; he receded step by step, unable to take his
+eyes from Eugene's face;--
+
+"Be a man, curse you," whispered Barton who had glided to his
+side--"D'ye hear?" and he clutched him by the arm, with a grasp, that
+made Beverly writhe with pain--"Take your place, and fire as I give the
+word."
+
+In a moment, Beverly was in his place, his right hand grasping his
+pistol, dropped by his side, which was presented toward Eugene, who,
+ten paces off, stood in a corresponding position.
+
+Barton retired to the background, taking his place beside Robert.
+"Gentlemen, I am about to give the word!" said Barton, and then there
+was a pause like death,--"One--two--three! Fire!"
+
+They wheeled and fired, Eugene with a fixed and decided aim; Beverly
+with eyes swimming in terror, and hand trembling with fright. The smoke
+of the pistols curled gracefully through the wintery air. Beverly
+stumbled as he fired, and fell on one knee; Eugene stood bolt upright
+for a moment, the pistol in his extended hand, and then fell flat upon
+his face.
+
+Eugene's bullet sank into the cedar tree, directly behind where
+Beverly's head had been, only a moment before. Beverly was uninjured.
+No doubt the false step which he had made in wheeling had saved his
+life.
+
+Eugene lay flat upon his face, the pistol still clutched in his
+extended hand.
+
+The brother of Joanna rushed forward and raised him to his feet,--there
+was a red wound between his eyes,--he was dead.
+
+The husband had been killed by the seducer of his wife.
+
+Behold the justice of the Law of Duel!
+
+"The damned fool," was the commentary of the phlegmatic Robert, as with
+tears gushing from his eyes, he held the body of the dead husband,
+and at the same time regarded Beverly, who pale with fright, cringed
+against a tree,--"If he'd a-taken my advice, he'd a-killed you like a
+dog, last night. He'd a-pitched you from the third story window,--he
+would,--and mashed your brains out against the pavement."
+
+The sun came out from behind a cloud, and lighted the face of Eugene
+Livingston, with the red wound between his fixed eyeballs.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+ISRAEL AND HIS VICTIM.
+
+
+Israel Yorke left the Temple, accompanied by Ninety-One and followed
+by the eleven. Israel, clad once more in his every-day _practical_
+dress, with his hat drawn over his bald head, and his diminutive form
+enveloped in a loose sack of dark cloth, looked like a dwarf beside the
+almost gigantic frame of Ninety-One. Yet Ninety-One, with creditable
+politeness, gave his arm to the Financier, and urged him onward in
+the darkness, toward Broadway, something in the manner that you may
+have seen a very willing boy, assist the progress of a very unwilling
+dog,--the boy's hand being attached to one end of a string, and the
+dog's neck to the other. And Ninety-One cheered Israel with various
+remarks of a consolatory character, such as, "go in gold specks! let
+her went my darlin'! don't give it up so easy!--" and so-forth.
+
+"It's so dark, and I'm so devilish cold," whined Israel, in vain
+endeavoring to keep pace with the giant strides of his huge
+companion,--"Where the deuce are we going anyhow?"
+
+"Come along feller sinners," said Ninety-One, looking over his
+shoulders at the eleven who followed sturdily in the rear. The eleven
+did not deign to express themselves in words, but manifested some
+portion of their feelings, by bringing their clubs upon the pavement,
+with something of the force of thunder, and more of the wickedness of
+a suddenly _slammed_ door. "Where are we leadin' you to? To one of yer
+tenants, Isr'el,--one of yer tenants, you pertikler example of all the
+christ'in vartues,--"
+
+"To one of my tenants!" echoed Israel.
+
+"To one of yer tenants," repeated Ninety-One, and he crossed a curb as
+he spoke, and gave Israel's arm a wrench which nearly tore the arm from
+Israel's body.--"You know you've got to pay cash for your bank notes
+to-day, an' you'll need all the money you can rake and scrape. To-day's
+rent day,--isn't it? Well we're goin' on a collectin' _tower_ among yer
+tenants. Ain't we feller sinners?"
+
+He turned his head over his shoulder, and again the clubs thundered
+their applause.
+
+"I'll be deuced if I can make you out," said Israel arranging his
+'specks,' which had been displaced by one of the eccentric movements
+of Ninety-One,--and Israel felt very much like the man who, finding
+himself late at night, very unexpectedly in the same bed-room with a
+bear, desired exceedingly to get out of the room, but thought it no
+more than proper to be civil to the bear until he did get out.
+
+"Don't you own a four story house in ---- street?" asked Ninety-One.
+
+"I do. Four stories,--two to four rooms on a floor,--besides the cellar
+and the garret,--a fine property,--and, to-day _is_ rent day--"
+
+"You stow 'em away like maggots in a stale cheese,--do you?" and
+Ninety-One stopped, and regarded the little man admiringly,--added in
+an under tone, "Moses! How I'd like to have the picklin' of you!"
+
+Thus conversing, they entered Broadway, along which they passed
+for some distance, and at last turned down a by-street, the eleven
+following them closely all the while.
+
+They stood in front of a huge edifice, four stories high, formerly
+the residence of a Wall street nabob, but now the abode of,--we are
+afraid to say how many families. The basement was, of course, occupied
+as a manufactory of New York politics,--in simple phrase, it was a
+grog-shop; and although the hour was exceedingly late, its door was
+wide open, and the sound of drunken voices and the fragrance of bad
+rum, ascended together upon the frosty air. Save the basement, the
+entire front of the mansion was dark as ink; the poor wretches who
+burrowed in its many rooms, were doubtless sleeping after the toil of
+the winter's day.
+
+"In the fourth story you have a tenant named ---- ----?" whispered
+Ninety-One.
+
+"Yes; a poor devil," responded Israel Yorke.
+
+"Let's go up an' see the poor devil," said Ninety-One, and grasping
+Israel firmly by the arm, he passed through the front door and up the
+narrow stairway.
+
+The eleven followed in silence, supporting Israel firmly in the rear.
+
+As they reached the head of the fourth stairway, Ninety-One put forth
+his brawny hand, and,--in the darkness,--felt along the wall.
+
+"Here's the door," he whispered, "in a minnit we'll bust in upon your
+tenant like a thousand o' brick."
+
+Israel felt himself devoured by curiosity, suspense, and fear.
+
+As for the eleven gathering around Israel closely in the darkness, they
+preserved a dead silence, only broken for a moment by the exclamation
+of one of their number,--"What a treat it 'ud be to pitch this here
+cuss down stairs!"
+
+"Hush, boys! hark!" said Ninety-One, and laid his hand upon the latch
+of the door.
+
+Before we enter the door and gaze upon the scene which Ninety-One
+disclosed to the gaze of Israel Yorke, our history must retrace its
+steps.
+
+It was nightfall, and the light of the lamps glittering among the
+leafless trees of the Park, mingled with the last flush of the departed
+day, and the mild, tremulous rays of the first stars of evening. At
+the corner of Broadway and Chambers street, two young men held each
+other by the hand, as they talked together. The contrast between their
+faces and general appearance was most remarkable, even for this world
+of contrasts. One tall in stature, with florid cheeks, and blue eyes
+glittering with life and hope, was the very picture of health. He
+was dressed at the top of the fashion. A sleekly-brushed beaver sat
+jauntily upon his chesnut curls; an overcoat of fine gray cloth fitted
+closely to his vigorous frame, and by its rolling collar, suffered his
+blue scarf and diamond pin to be visible; his hands were gloved, and he
+carried a delicate cane, adorned with a head of amber; and his voice
+and laugh rung out so cheerily upon the frosty air!
+
+The other,--alas! for the contrast,--dressed in a long overcoat of
+faded brown cloth, resembled a living skeleton. His face was terribly
+emaciated; his cheeks sunken; his eyes hollow. His voice was low and
+husky. As he spoke, his eyes lighted up like fire-coals, and seemed
+to burn in his sallow and withered face. His hair, black as jet,
+and straight and long, only made his countenance seem more pale and
+death-like. He was evidently in the last stage of consumption, and
+his dress, neat as it was,--the faded brown coat, and much-worn hat
+carefully brushed,--betokened poverty, and the saddest poverty of
+all,--that which tries, and vainly, to hide itself under a "decent"
+exterior.
+
+And thus they met, at the corner of Chambers street and Broadway, Lewis
+Harding, the rich broker and man of fashion, and John Martin, the poor
+artist and--dying man. They had been playmates and school-fellows in
+other years. Five years ago, they left the academy, in a country town,
+to try their fortunes in the world; both orphans, both young, both full
+of life and hope, and--poor. Harding had taken the world _as he found_
+it, adopted its philosophy,--"Success is the only test of merit,"--and
+became a rich broker and a man of fashion. John Martin had taken the
+world as it _ought to have been_,--believed in the goodness of mankind,
+and in the certainty of honest success following honest labor--of hand
+and brain,--steadily devoted to the elevation of man. He became an
+artist, and,--we see him before us now.
+
+"Why, Jack, my dear fellow, what are you doing out in the cold air?"
+said Harding, in his kindly voice. "You ought to be more careful of
+yourself,----"
+
+"I am out in the cold air, because I cannot breathe freely in the
+house," answered the artist, with a smile on his cadaverous lips.
+
+"But you have no cough,--you'll be better in spring."
+
+"True, I have no cough, but the doctor informed me to-day that my right
+lung was entirely gone, and my left hard after it; the simple truth is,
+I am wasting to death; and I hate the idea of dying in bed. I want to
+keep on my feet,--I want to keep in the air,--I want to die on my feet."
+
+Harding had rapidly grown into a man of the world, but somehow the
+tears started into his eyes.
+
+"But you must keep up your spirits, Jack,--in the spring you will
+be----"
+
+"In my grave, Harding; there's no use of lying about it."
+
+And his eyes flared up, and a bitter smile moved his lips.
+
+"O, how's the wife and children?" said Harding; as though anxious to
+change the conversation.
+
+"They are well," said John, and a singular look passed over his face.
+
+"And your sister?"
+
+"Eleanor is well,"--and the vivid brightness of his eyes was for a
+moment vailed in moisture.
+
+"O, by-the-bye, I met Nelly the other day," said Harding. "Bless
+my soul! what a handsome little girl she has grown! It was in a
+store where they sell embroidered work. I was pricing a set of
+regalia,--thirty dollars they said was the price,--and little Nell had
+worked on it about three weeks for five dollars. Great world, Jack!"
+
+"Good night, Harding," said the artist, quietly.
+
+"But let me accompany you home,----"
+
+"I'd rather you would not. Good night, Harding."
+
+"But God bless you, John, can't I do anything for you?"
+
+"Why, why after I am dead,"--and the words seemed to stick in his
+throat,--"after I am dead,--my wife,--my sister,----" he could say no
+more.
+
+"I swear that I will protect them," said Harding, warmly. John quietly
+pressed his hand, and turned his face away. After a moment they parted,
+Harding down Broadway on his way to the theater, and John up Broadway,
+on his way home. And Harding gazed after John for a moment,--"I'm glad
+he didn't want to borrow money! Nell is quite a beauty!"
+
+Walking slowly, and pausing every now and then to breathe, John gazed
+in the bright shop-windows, and into the contrasted faces of the
+hurrying crowd as he passed along.
+
+"Soon this will be all over for me," he muttered, with a husky laugh.
+"I'm afraid, friend John, that you are taking your last walk."
+
+An arm was gently thrust through his own, and a voice light and
+trilling as the notes of a bird, said quietly,--
+
+"I'm so glad I've caught up with you John,"--and he leaned upon that
+gentle arm, and turned to look upon the face of the speaker. It was his
+sister Eleanor, a very pretty child of some fourteen years, dressed in
+a faded cloak, and with a hood on her dark hair. Her complexion was a
+rich brown, tinged with red in the cheeks; her eyes, brows and hair,
+all black as midnight. And by turns, over that face, in which the woman
+began to mingle with the child, there flitted a look of the brightest
+joyousness, and an expression of the most touching melancholy.
+
+"I've just been taking my work home, John. They paid me half a dollar
+for what I have done this week, (and that, you know, John, will keep
+us in bread and coal to-morrow,) and O, I am so glad you've got eight
+dollars saved for the rent. I am _so_ glad! The rent is due to-morrow,
+and the landlord is such a hard man."
+
+"Yes, I have eight dollars," John said, and there was an indefinable
+accent marking every word. "Yes, Nelly, dear, I have eight dollars."
+
+"John, do tell me, who are those good ladies who pass us every moment,
+dressed so richly,--all in velvet, and satin, and jewels; who are they,
+John?"
+
+John stopped,--bent upon his cane,--looked for a moment upon the crowd
+which whirled past him,--and then into the happy, innocent face of his
+sister. And then his shrunken chest heaved with a sigh. "O God!" he
+said, in a low voice.
+
+"Who are they, John,--do tell me,--they must be very, O, ever so rich."
+
+"Those handsome ladies, dressed so gaudily, Nelly, are sisters and
+daughters. Once they had brothers and fathers who protected them, and
+now their fathers and brothers are dead. The world takes care of them
+now, Nelly."
+
+The poor girl heard his words, but did not guess their hidden meaning.
+Still supporting her brother on her arm, she continued,--
+
+"Do you know, John, that your handsome friend, Mr. Harding, met me in
+the store the other day, and said he took such an interest in me, and
+that if I chose I might be dressed as rich and gayly as these grand
+ladies, who pass us every moment."
+
+John started as though he had trodden upon a snake. "And only
+a moment ago he promised to protect her when I am gone," he
+muttered,--"_Protection_!"
+
+And thus they passed along until turning into a by-street, they came
+near their home, which was composed of a single room, up four pairs of
+stairs, in a four-storied edifice. At the street door they were met
+by a young woman, plainly,--meagerly clad, but with a finely-rounded
+form, and a countenance, rich, not only in loveliness, but in all the
+_goodness_ of womanly affection. It was the artist's wife.
+
+"O, John, I have been so anxious about you," she said, and took him by
+the arm; and while Nelly held the other, she gently led him through
+the doorway and up the dark stairs. "Why will you go out when it is so
+cold?"
+
+"I want air, Annie, _air_," he returned in his hollow voice,--"and I
+will die on my feet."
+
+And the wife and sister helped the dying artist gently up the stairs;
+gently, slowly, step by step, and led him at last over the threshold,
+into that room which was their home.
+
+About an hour afterward, John was seated in an arm-chair, in the center
+of that home, whose poverty was concealed as much as might be, by
+the careful exertions of his wife and sister. In the arm-chair, his
+death-like face looking ghastly in the candle-light,--his wife, a woman
+of _blonde_ countenance, blue eyes, and chesnut-hair, on one side; his
+sister, with her dark hair, and clear, deep eyes, on the other; each
+holding a hand of the husband and the brother. A boy of four years,
+sat on a stool, looking up quietly with his big eyes into his father's
+face; and near, a little girl of three years, who took her brother
+by the hand, and also looked in the face of the dying artist. Very
+beautiful children; plainly clad, it is true, but beautiful; the girl
+with light hair and blue eyes, reflecting the mother, while the boy,
+dark-haired and black-eyed, was the image of the father.
+
+The table, spread with the remains of the scanty meal, stood near; the
+grate was filled with lighted coals; a bed with a carefully patched
+coverlet stood in one corner; between the two windows was placed an
+old-fashioned bureau; and two pictures adorned the neatly whitewashed
+walls.
+
+Such was the picture, and such the artist's home.
+
+The stillness which had prevailed since supper, was at length broken by
+the voice of John.
+
+"Annie, I'll leave you soon," he said, quietly, and his eyes lighted
+up.--"O, wouldn't it be a good thing if we could all die together! To
+die, I do not fear, but to leave you all,--and in such a world! O, my
+God! such a world!"
+
+Annie buried her face in her hands, and rested her hands against the
+arm of the chair. Nelly, her large eyes brimful of tears, quietly put
+his hand to her lips. And the little boy, in his childish way, asked
+what "to die" meant.
+
+"Bring me that picture, Nelly,"--he pointed to a picture on the wall.
+She went and brought it quietly. "Now let down the window a little, for
+I feel the want of air, and come and sit by me again."
+
+He took the picture and gazed upon it earnestly and long. It was a
+picture of himself, in the prime of young manhood, the cheeks rounded,
+the eyes full of hope, the brow, shaded by glossy black hair, stamped
+with genius. A picture taken only sixteen months before.
+
+"Only sixteen months ago, Nelly," he said. "Only sixteen months ago,
+Annie; and now--well, there's a crayon sketch on the bureau, which
+I took of myself the other day, as I looked in the glass. Bring it,
+Nelly."
+
+His sister brought the crayon sketch; and, with a sad smile, he held it
+beside the other picture. It was all too faithful. His prominent cheek
+bones, hollow cheeks, colorless lips, and sunken eyes, all were copied
+there; only the deathly fire of the eyes was lacking.
+
+"A sad contrast, isn't it, Annie? When this picture was taken, sixteen
+months ago, we were all doing well. My pictures sold; some lithographs
+which I executed, met also with ready sale. I had as much as I could
+do, and everything was bright before me. I even thought of a tour to
+Italy! Don't you remember our nice little cottage out in the country,
+Nell? But I was taken sick--sick;--I couldn't work any longer. Our
+money was soon spent; and you, Annie, made shirts; and you, Nelly, you
+embroidered; and that kept us thus far--and--," he stopped, and gazed
+upon his wife and sister, who were weeping silently: and then upon his
+children. "And now I must go and leave you in this world.--Oh, my God!
+such a world!"
+
+"Don't think of us, John," said his wife. "If you could only live,--"
+
+"Oh, you will--you will get better, as the spring comes on," exclaimed
+Nelly; "and we'll go into the country, on the first sunny day, and
+gather flowers there."
+
+John drew forth from his vest pocket certain pieces of paper, which he
+spread forth upon his knee. Bank notes, each marked with the figure
+2, and signed by the name of Israel Yorke, (a prominent banker of the
+_bogus_ stamp,) in a bold hand. There were four in all.
+
+"This is the eight dollars, Annie, which I saved to pay our rent," said
+the artist.
+
+The wife and sister gazed upon the bank notes earnestly--for those
+bank notes were their last hope. Those bank notes were "_rent money_;"
+and of all money on the earth of God, none is so bitterly earned by
+Poverty, nor so pitilessly torn from its grasp by the hand of Avarice,
+as "_rent money_."
+
+"Well,--well;"--and John paused, as if the words choked him. "These
+notes are not worth one penny. All of Israel Yorke's banks broke
+to-day."
+
+There was not a word spoken for five minutes, or more. This news went
+like an ice-bolt through the hearts of the wife and sister.
+
+"And to-morrow we'll be put into the street by this same Israel Yorke,
+who is also our landlord;" said John, breaking the long pause. "Put the
+window a little lower, Nelly--it feels close--I want air."
+
+Nelly obeyed; and resumed her seat at her brother's face, which now
+glowed on the cheeks and shone in the eyes with an expression which she
+could not define.
+
+"Oh, wouldn't it be good, Annie--would not it be glorious, Nelly--if
+I could gather you all up in my arms and take you with me, whither I
+am going?" he said, with a sort of rapture, looking from his children
+to his wife and sister. And then, in a gentler tone: "Kneel down,
+Nelly, and say a prayer, and ask God to forgive us all our sins--_all_,
+remember,--and to smooth the way for us, so that we may all go to Him."
+
+Neither Nelly nor Annie remarked the singular emphasis which
+accompanied these words.
+
+Nelly knelt in their midst, and prayed.
+
+As she uttered that simple and child-like prayer, John fixed his eyes
+upon her face, and muttered, "And so he took a great _interest_ in you,
+and would dress you gayly, would he?"
+
+Then he said, aloud, in a kind of wild and wandering way--"Now we've
+had our last supper, and our last prayer. It will soon be time for us
+to go. Call me, love, in time for the cars."
+
+He paused, and raised his hand to his forehead,--
+
+"Don't cry, Annie; my mind wanders a little--that's all. I want rest.
+I'll take a little sleep in the chair, and you and Nelly, and the
+children, lay down in the bed. And let me kiss the children, and do you
+all kiss me--"
+
+The young mother lifted the little boy and girl, and they pressed their
+kiss upon the lips of the dying man. Then the wife and the sister;
+their tears mingling on his face, as their lips were pressed by turns
+to his lips and brow.
+
+"Come, Nelly," whispered the wife, "we'll lay down, but we will not
+sleep. He will take a little rest if he thinks we are sleeping."
+
+Presently the sister and the wife, with the children near them, were
+resting on the bed, their hands silently joined. They conversed in
+low tones, while the children fell gently asleep. But gradually their
+conversation died away in inarticulate whispers; and they also slept.
+
+And the artist--did he sleep? By no means. Sitting erect in his
+arm-chair, his back toward the bed, and his eyes every instant
+glittering bright and brighter, he listened intently to the low
+whispers of his wife and sister. "At last they sleep!" he cried, as
+the sound of their calm, regular breathing struck his ears. "They
+sleep--they sleep! They sleep--wife, sister, children; Annie, Nelly,
+little John, and little Annie,--they all sleep."
+
+And he burst into tears.
+
+But his death-stricken face was radiant through his tears:--radiant
+with intense joy.
+
+John sat silently contemplating a small image of white marble, which
+he had taken from one of the drawers of the bureau. It represented the
+MASTER on the cross.
+
+"Better go to God, and trust him, than trust to the mercy of man," he
+frequently murmured.
+
+After much silent thought he rose, and, from beneath the bureau drew
+forth two objects into the light--a sack and a small plaster furnace.
+He placed the furnace in the center of the floor, and half filled it
+with lighted coals from the grate. Then he poured the contents of the
+sack upon the burning coals; his hands trembling, and his eyes, fiery
+as they were, suddenly dimmed by moisture.
+
+"Charcoal, good charcoal--such a blessing to the poor! Nelly
+didn't know what a blessing it was, when I sent her for it this
+afternoon--that is, yesterday afternoon. It takes fire--it burns--such
+a mild, rich blue flame! Opium and charcoal are the poor man's best
+friends. They cost so little, and they save one from so much,"--as
+he knelt on the floor, he cast his gaze over his shoulder toward the
+bed--"so very much! They will save us all from so much!"
+
+Nelly murmured in her sleep, and rose in bed, and, opening her eyes,
+gazed at her brother, kneeling by the lighted furnace, with a wild
+dreamy stare. Then she lay down and slept again.
+
+The charcoal burned brightly, its pale blue flame casting a spectral
+glow over the face of the kneeling man, so haggard and death-stricken.
+The noxious gas began to fill the room. John rose and went, with
+unsteady steps to the window, and eagerly inhaled the fresh air.
+Resting his arms upon the sash, he felt the cold air upon his cheek,
+and looked out and upward,--there was the dark blue sky set with stars.
+
+"In which of them, I wonder, will we all meet again?" he said, in a
+wandering way. Then he tottered from the window to the bed. The air was
+stifling. He breathed only in gasps.
+
+By the bed again, gazing upon them all,--wife, sister, children,--so
+beautiful in their slumber.
+
+And they began to move restlessly in their sleep, and mutter
+half-coherent words, and--"In the spring time, John, we'll gather
+flowers," said Nelly; "You'll be better soon, John," whispered the
+wife; and all was still again.
+
+Back to the window, with unsteady steps, to inhale another mouthful of
+fresh air--to take another look at the cold, cold winter stars.
+
+Brighter burns the charcoal; the pale blue flame hovers there, in the
+center of the room like an infernal halo. And there is Death in the air.
+
+Breathing in gasps, John tottered from the window again. He took the
+image in one hand, the candle in the other; and thus, on tip-toe, he
+approached the bed.
+
+A very beautiful sight. Little John and little Annie sleeping side by
+side, a glow upon their cheeks,--Nelly and Annie sleeping hand joined
+in hand; their beautiful faces invested with a smile that was all
+quietness and peace. They did not murmur in their sleep this time.
+
+John's eyes glared strangely as he stood gazing upon them. "And did you
+think, Annie," he said softly, putting his hand upon her head, "that
+I'd leave you in this world, to work and to slave, and to rear our
+children up to work and to slave, and eat the bitter bread of poverty?
+And you, Nelly, did you think I'd leave you to slave here, until your
+soul was sick; and then, some day, when work failed, and starvation
+looked in at the window, to sell yourself to some rich scoundrel for
+bread? No, wife--no, sister--no, children: _I have gathered you up in
+my arms, and we're all going together_!"
+
+He kissed them one by one, and then tottered back toward the lighted
+furnace--toward his chair--the light which he held, shining fully
+over his withered face and flaming eyes. In one hand he still grasped
+the marble image. He had gained half the distance to his chair, when
+the door opened. A man of middle age, clad in sober black, his hair
+gray, and his hooked nose supporting gold spectacles, appeared on the
+threshold.
+
+"Ah, Doctor, is that you?" cried John, "I thought it was the
+landlord;--you've come too late, Doctor, too late."
+
+"Too late? What mean you, Mr. Martin?" said the doctor, advancing into
+the room--but starting back again, as he encountered the poisoned air.
+
+"Too late--too late!" cried John, the candle trembling in his unsteady
+grasp, as he raised his skeleton-like form to its full height--"We're
+all cured,--"
+
+"Cured? What mean you? How cured?"
+
+"Cured of--life!" said John; and, stepping quickly forward, he fell at
+the doctor's feet.
+
+The doctor seized the light as he fell, and attempted to raise him from
+the floor,--but John was dead in his arms.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Our history now returns to Israel Yorke, whom, with Ninety-One and the
+eleven, we left waiting in the dark, outside the artist's door.
+
+"Hush, boys! hush!" whispered Ninety-One, and laid his hand upon the
+latch "Enter, Isr'el, and talk to yer tenant."
+
+The door opened, and Israel entered, followed by Ninety-One and the
+eleven, all of whom preserved a dead stillness.
+
+A single light was burning dimly in the artist's humble room. It cast
+its rays over the humble details of the place,--over the bed, which was
+covered by a white sheet. The place was deathly still.
+
+"What does all this mean?" cried Israel. "There is no one here."
+Ninety-One took the light from the table, and led Israel silently to
+the bed. The eleven gathered round in silence; you could hear their
+hard breathing through the dead stillness of the room. Ninety-One
+lifted the sheet, slowly; his harsh features quivering in every fiber.
+
+"That's what it means," he said hoarsely.
+
+They were there, side by side; the husband and the wife, the sister and
+the children--there, cold and dead. The light, as it fell upon them,
+revealed the wasted face of the artist, his closed eyelids, sunken far
+in their sockets, his dark hair glued to his forehead by the moisture
+of death; and the face of his young wife, with her fair cheek and sunny
+hair; and the sad, beautiful face of his sister, whose dark hair lay
+loosely upon her neck, while the long fringes of her eyelashes rested
+darkly upon her cheek. There was a look of anguish upon the face of
+John, as though Poverty had struck its iron seal upon him as he died;
+but the faces of Annie and Nelly were calm, smiling--very full of
+peace. The little children--the dark-haired boy, and bright-haired
+girl--slept quietly, their hands clasped and their cheeks laid close
+together. The poor artist, in the last wild hour of his life, had
+indeed _gathered them up in his arms and taken them with him_. They had
+all gone together.
+
+The furnace, with the fire put out, still remained in the center of the
+room.
+
+Such was the scene which the light disclosed; a scene incredible only
+to those who, unfamiliar with the ACTUAL of the large city, do not know
+that all the boasted triumphs of our modern civilization but miserably
+compensate for the POVERTY which it has created, and which stalks side
+by side with it, at every step of its progress, like a skeleton beside
+a painted harlot;--a poverty which gives to the phrase, "_I am poor!_"
+a despair unknown even in the darkest ages of the most barbarous past.
+
+"They are asleep,--asleep, certainly," cried Israel, falling back,
+"they can't be dead."
+
+The truth is, that Israel felt exceedingly uncomfortable.
+
+"They ain't asleep,--they _are_ dead," hoarsely replied Ninety-One,
+and he grasped Israel fiercely by the wrist. "They are dead, you dog.
+Look thar! That man owed you eight dollars for rent; he know'd if he
+didn't pay you this mornin' he'd be pitched into the street, dyin' as
+he was, with wife and children and sister at his heels. But he'd saved
+eight dollars, Israel, an' last night he crawled out to take a walk,
+an' found that his eight dollars was so much trash--found out that yer
+banks had broke, an' his eight dollars in yer bank notes, was wuss than
+nothin'. An' from yer bankin' house he went to a drug store, an' from
+a friend he got a quick an' quiet p'ison. He came home; he put it in
+the coffee, slyly; they all drank of it, an' slep'; an' then he filled
+the furnace with charcoal an' lighted it, an' _then_ they slep' all
+the better,--an' there they air! out o' yer clutches, dog--out o' yer
+fangs, hell-hound,--gone safe to kingdom come!"
+
+And he clutched Israel's wrist until the little man groaned with pain.
+
+"But how do you know he poisoned himself and these?" faltered Israel.
+
+"He left a scrap o' paper in which he told about it an' the reason for
+doin' it. The doctor who came in when it was too late, saw the charcoal
+burnin', an' found the p'ison at the bottom of the cups. An' this
+man," he pointed to one of the eleven, a sturdy fellow with a frank,
+honest face, "this man an' his wife live in the next room. He was out
+last evenin', but she was in, an' she heard poor Martin ravin' about
+you an' his eight dollars, an' his wife, an' sister, an' children, an'
+starvation, death, an' the cold dark street. She heered him, I say, but
+didn't suspec' there was p'ison in the case until the doctor called her
+in, an' then it was too late."
+
+"But how did you know of all this? What have you to do with it?"
+
+"You see the doctor went an' told the JUDGE, who has just been tryin'
+you,--told him hours ago, you mind,--an' THE JUDGE sent me here with
+you, in order to show you some of yer work. How d'ye like it Isr'el?"
+
+Ninety-One's features were harsh and scarred, but now they quivered
+with an almost child-like emotion. With his brawny hand he pointed to
+the bodies of the dead,--
+
+"Thar's eight dollars worth o' yer notes, Isr'el," he said. "Thar's
+Chow Bank, Muddy Run, an' Tarrapin Holler! Look at 'em! Don't you think
+that some day God Almighty will ax you to change them notes?"
+
+And Israel shrank back appalled from the bed. Ninety-One clutched his
+wrist with a firmer grasp; the eleven gathered closely in his rear,
+their ominous murmur growing more distinct; and the light, held in the
+convict's hand, shed its calm rays over the faces of the dead family.
+
+This death-scene in the artist's home, calls up certain thoughts.
+
+Poverty! Did you ever think of the full meaning of that word? The
+curse of poverty is the cowardice which it breeds, cowardice of body
+and soul. Many a man who would in full possession of his faculties,
+pour out his life-blood for a friend, or even for a stranger, will,
+when it becomes a contest for a crust of bread,--for the last means
+of a bare subsistence,--steal that crust from the very lips of his
+starving friend, and would, were it possible, drain the last life-drop
+in the veins of another, in order to keep life in his own wretched
+carcass. The savage, starving in the snow, in the center of his
+desolate prairie, knows nothing of the poverty of the civilized savage,
+much less of that poverty, which takes the man or woman of refined
+education, and kills every noble faculty of the soul, before it does
+its last work on the body. Poverty in the city, is not mere want of
+bread, but it is the lack of the means to supply innumerable wants,
+created by civilization,--and that lack is slow moral and physical
+death. Talk of the bravery of the hero, who, on the battle-field stands
+up to be shot at, with the chance of glory, on the one hand, and a
+quick death on the other! How will his heroism compare with that brave
+man, who in the large city, year after year, and day by day, expends
+the very life-strings of his soul, in battling against the fangs of
+want, in keeping some roof-shelter over his wife and children, or those
+who are as dependent upon him as wife and children? Proud lady, sitting
+on your sofa, in your luxurious parlor, you regard with a quiet sneer,
+that paragraph in the paper (you hold it in your hand), which tells
+how a virtuous girl, sold her person into the grasp of wealthy lust
+for--bread! You sneer,--virtue, refined education, beauty, innocence,
+chastity, all gone to the devil for a--bit of bread! Sneer on! but
+were you to try the experiment of living two days without--not your
+carriage and opera-box,--but without bread or fire in the dead of
+winter, working meanwhile at your needle, with half-frozen fingers for
+just sixteen pennies per day, you would, I am afraid, think differently
+of the matter. Instead of two days, read two years, and let your trial
+be one of perpetual work and want, that never for a moment cease to
+bite,--I am afraid, beautiful one, were this your case, you would
+sometimes find yourself thinking of a comfortable life, and a bed of
+down, purchased by the sale of your body, and the damnation of your
+soul. And you, friend, now from the quiet of some country village,
+railing bravely against southern slavery, and finding no word bitter
+enough to express your hatred of the slave market, in which black men
+and black women are sold--just look a moment from the window of your
+quiet home, and behold yonder huge building, blazing out upon the
+night from its hundred windows. That is a factory. Yes. Have you no
+pity for the white men, (nearer to you in equality of organization
+certainly than black men,) who are chained in hopeless slavery, to the
+iron wheels of yonder factory's machinery? Have you no thought of the
+white woman, (lovelier to look upon certainly than black women, and
+in color, in organization, in education resembling very much your own
+wife, sister, mother,) who very often are driven by want, from yonder
+factory to the grave, or to the--brothels of New York? You mourn over
+black children, sold at the slave block,--have you no tear for white
+children, who in yonder factory, are deprived of education, converted
+into mere working machines (without one tithe of the food and comfort
+of the black slave), and transformed into precocious old men and women,
+before they have ever felt one free pulse of childhood?
+
+Ah! this enterprise which forms the impulse and the motto of modern
+civilization, will doubtless in the future ripen into good for all
+men,--for there is a God,--but the path of its present progress, is
+littered with human skulls. It weaves, it spins, it builds, it spreads
+forth on all sides its iron arms,--and it has a good capital,--the
+blood of human hearts. Labor-saving machinery, (the most awful
+feature of modern civilization,) will, in the future, when no longer
+monopolized by the few, do the greater portion of the physical work
+of the world, and bless the entire race of man,--but until that
+future arrives, labor-saving machinery will send more millions down
+to death, than any three centuries of battle-fields, that ever cursed
+the earth. Yes, modern civilization, is very much like the locomotive,
+rolling along an iron track, at sixty miles per hour, with hot coals
+at its heart, and a cloud of smoke and flame above it. Look at it, as
+it thunders on! What a magnificent impersonation of power; of brute
+force chained by the mind of man! All true,--but woe, woe to the weak
+or helpless, who linger on its iron track! and woe to the weak, the
+crippled, or the poor, whom the locomotive of modern civilization finds
+lingering _in its way_. Why should it care? It has no heart. Its work
+is to move onward, and to cut down all, whom poverty and misfortune
+have left in its path.
+
+There is one phase of poverty which hath no parallel in its unspeakable
+bitterness. A man of genius with a good heart, and something of the
+all-overarching spirit of Christ in him, looks around the world, sees
+the vast sum of human misery, and feels like this, '_With but a moderate
+portion of money, what good might not be accomplished!_' and yet that
+little sum is as much beyond him,--as far beyond his grasp, as the
+planet Jupiter.
+
+That forth from the womb of the present chaos, a nobler era will be
+born, no one can doubt, who feels the force of these four words,
+'_there is a God_.' And that the present age with its deification of
+the money power, is one of the basest the world ever saw, cannot be
+disproved, although it may be bitterly denied. There is something
+pitiful in the thought that a world once deemed worthy of the tread of
+Satan, is now become the crawling ground of Mammon.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+MARY, CARL, CORNELIUS.
+
+
+Leaving Frank to writhe alone in her agony, Nameless and Mary pursued
+their way through the dark streets, as the morning drew near. They
+arrived at length, in front of that huge mansion, in Greenwich street,
+which once the palace of ease and opulence, was now, from the garret to
+the cellar, the palace of rags, disease and poverty. How Mary's heart
+thrilled as she led Nameless through the darkness up the marble stairs!
+A few hours since she went down those stairs, with death in her heart.
+Now her husband, risen from the grave was on her arm, hope was in her
+heart, and--although dark and bitter cold, and signs of poverty and
+wretchedness were all around her,--the future opened before her mental
+vision, rosy and golden in its hues of promise.
+
+At the head of the stairway, on the fourth story Mary opened a door,
+and in the darkness, led Nameless across the threshold.
+
+"My home!" she whispered, and lighted the candle, which hours ago, in
+the moment of her deepest despair, she had extinguished.
+
+As the light stole around the place, Nameless at a glance beheld the
+miserable garret, with its sloping roof walls of rough boards, and
+scanty furniture, a mattress in one corner, a sheet-iron stove, a
+table, and in the recess of the huge garret window an old arm-chair.
+
+"This your home!" he ejaculated and at the same time beheld the
+occupant of the arm-chair,--in that man prematurely old, his skeleton
+form incased in a loose wrapper, his emaciated hands resting on
+the arms, and one side of his corpse-like face on the back of the
+chair,--he after a long pause, recognized the wreck of his master,
+Cornelius Berman.
+
+"O, my master!" he cried in a tone of inexpressible emotion, and
+sank on his knees before the sleeping man, and pressed his emaciated
+hand reverently to his lips. "Is it thus I find you!" and profoundly
+affected, he remained kneeling there, his gaze fixed upon that
+countenance, which despite its premature wrinkles, and dead apathetic
+expression, still bore upon its forehead,--half hid by snow-white
+hair,--some traces of the intellect of Cornelius Berman.
+
+While Nameless knelt there in silence, Mary glided from the room, and
+after some minutes, again appeared, holding a basket on one arm, while
+the other held some sticks of wood. Leaving her husband in his reverie,
+at her father's feet, she built a fire in the sheet-iron stove, and
+began to prepare the first meal which she had tasted in the course
+of twenty hours. Continued excitement had kept her up thus far, but
+her brain began to grow dizzy and her hand to tremble. At length the
+white cloth was spread on the table, and the rich fragrance of coffee
+stole through the atmosphere of the dismal garret. The banquet was
+spread, bread, butter, two cups of coffee,--a sorry sort of banquet
+say you,--but just for once, try the experiment of twenty-four hours,
+without food, and you'll change your opinion.
+
+The first faint gleam of the winter morning began to steal through the
+garret window.
+
+"Come, Carl,"--she glided softly to his side, and tapped him gently on
+the shoulder, "breakfast is ready. While father sleeps, just come and
+see what a good housekeeper I am."
+
+He looked up and beheld her smiling, although there were tears in her
+eyes.
+
+He rose and took his seat beside her at the table. Now the garret
+was rude and lonely, and the banquet by no means luxurious, and yet
+Nameless could not help being profoundly agitated, as he took his seat
+by the side of Mary.
+
+It was the first time, in all his memory, that he had sat down to a
+table, encircled by the sanctity which clusters round the word--_Home_.
+
+His wife was by his side,--this was his--_Home_.
+
+Breakfast over, he once more knelt at the feet of the sleeping man.
+And Mary knelt by his side, gazing silently into his face, while his
+gaze was riveted upon her father's countenance. Thus they were, as the
+morning light grew brighter on the window-pane. At length Mary rested
+her head upon his bosom, and slept,--he girdled her form in his cloak,
+and held her in his arms, while her bosom, heaving gently with the calm
+pulsation of slumber, was close against his heart. The morning light
+grew brighter on the window-pane, and touched the white hairs of the
+father, and shone upon the glowing cheek of the sleeping girl.
+
+Nameless, wide awake, his eyes large and full, and glittering with
+thought, gazed now upon the face of his old master, and now upon
+the countenance of his young wife. And then his whole life rose up
+before him. He was lost in a maze of absorbing thought. His friendless
+childhood, the day when Cornelius first met him, his student life,
+in the studies of the artist, the pleasant home of the artist on
+the river, the hour when he had reddened his hand with blood, his
+trial, sentence, the day of execution, the burial, the life in the
+mad-house,--these scenes and memories passed before him, with living
+shapes and hues and voices. And after all, Mary, his wife was in his
+arms! The sun now came up, and his first ray shone rosily over the
+cheeks of the sleeping girl.
+
+Nameless remembered the letter which Frank had given him, and now took
+it from the side pocket of his coat. He surveyed it attentively. It
+bore his name, "GULIAN VAN HUYDEN."
+
+"What does it contain?" he asked himself the question mentally, little
+dreaming of the fatal burden which the letter bore.
+
+The sleeping man awoke, and gazed around the apartment with large,
+lack-luster eyes. At the same time, with his emaciated hand, he tried
+to clutch the sunbeam which trembled over his shoulder. Nameless felt
+his heart leap to his throat at the sight of this pitiful wreck of
+genius.
+
+"Do you not know me, master?" exclaimed Nameless, pressing the hand of
+the afflicted man, and fixing his gaze earnestly upon his face.
+
+Was it an idle fancy? Nameless thought he saw something like a ray of
+intelligence flit across that stricken face.
+
+"It is I, Carl Raphael, your pupil, your son!"
+
+As though the sound of that voice had penetrated even the sealed
+consciousness of hopeless idiocy, the aged artist slightly inclined his
+head, and there was a strange tremulousness in his glance.
+
+"Carl Raphael, your son!" repeated Nameless, and clutched the hands of
+the artist.
+
+Again that tremulousness in the glance of the artist, and then,--as
+though a film had fallen from his eyes,--his gaze was firm, and bright,
+and clear. It was like the restoration of a blind man to sight. His
+gaze traversed the room, and at length rested on the face of Nameless.
+
+"Carl!" he cried, like one, who, awaking from a troubled dream, finds,
+unexpectedly, by his bed a familiar and beloved face--"Carl, my son!"
+
+Mary heard that voice; it roused her from her slumber. Starting up, she
+pressed her father's hands.
+
+"O, Carl, Carl, he knows you! Thank God! thank God!"
+
+"Mary," said the father, gazing upon her earnestly, like one who tries
+to separate the reality of his waking hours from the images of a past
+dream.
+
+First upon one face, then upon the other, he turned his gaze,
+meanwhile, in an absent manner, joining the hand of Mary and the hand
+of Carl.
+
+"Carl! Mary!" he repeated the names in a low voice, and laid his hands
+gently on their heads.--"I thought I had lost you, my children. Carl
+and Mary," he repeated their names again,--"Carl and Mary! God bless
+you, my children; and now----" he surveyed them with his large, bright
+eyes, "and now I must sleep."
+
+His head fell gently forward on his breast, and he fell asleep to
+wake no more in this world. His mind had made its last effort in the
+recognition of Mary and Nameless. For a moment it flashed brightly in
+its socket, and then went out forever. He was dead. Nay, not dead, but
+he was,--to use that inexpressibly touching thought, in which the very
+soul and hope of Christianity is embodied,--"_asleep in Christ_."
+
+When Mary raised his head from his breast, his eyes were vailed in the
+glassy film of death. Leaning upon the arm which never yet failed to
+support the weary head and the tired heart, gazing upon the face which
+always looks its ineffable consolation, into the face of the dying,
+Cornelius had passed away as calmly as a child sinking to sleep upon a
+mother's faithful breast.
+
+Mary and Nameless, on their knees before the corse, clasped those
+death-chilled hands, and wept in silence.
+
+And the winter sun, shining bright upon the window-pane, fell upon
+their bowed heads, and upon the tranquil face of the dead father,
+around whose lips a smile was playing, as though some word of "good
+cheer" had been whispered to him, by angel-tongues, in the moment ere
+he passed away.
+
+And thou art dead, brave artist, and life's battle with thee is
+over,--the eyes that used to look so manfully upon every phase of
+sorrow and adversity, are all cold and lusterless now,--the heart that
+generous emotions filled and lofty conceptions warmed, sleeps pulseless
+in the lifeless bosom. Thou art dead!--dead in the dreary home of Want,
+with cold winter light upon thy gray hairs. Dead! Ah, no,--not dead,
+for there is a PRESENCE in the dismal garret, invisible to external
+eyes, which puts Death to shame, and upon the gates of the grave
+writes, in letters of undying light:--_In all the universe of God there
+is no such thing as death, but simply a transition from one life, or
+state of life, to another._ Not dead, brave artist. Thou hast not, in
+a long life, cherished affections, gathered experience from the bitter
+tree of adversity, and developed, in storm as well as sunshine, thy
+clear, beautiful intellect, merely to bury them all in the dull grave
+at last. No,--thou hast borne affections, experience, and intellect, to
+the genial sunshine of the better land. The coffin-lid of this life has
+been lifted from thy soul,--thou art risen, indeed,--at last, in truth,
+THOU LIVEST!
+
+And the PRESENCE which fills thy dark chamber now, although often
+mocked by the gross interpretations of a brutal theology, often hid
+from the world by the Gehenna smoke of conflicting creeds, is a living
+Presence, always living, always loving, always bringing the baptism of
+consolation to the way-worn children of this life, even as it did in
+the hour when, embodied in a human form, face to face and eye to eye,
+it spoke to man.
+
+The sun is high in the wintery heavens, and his light, streaming
+through the window-pane, falls upon the mattress, whereon, covered
+reverently, by the white sheet, the corse is laid. Mary is crouching
+there, one hand supporting her forehead, the other resting upon the
+open book, which is placed upon her knee. Thus all day long she watches
+by the dead. At last the flush of evening is upon the winter sky.
+
+Nameless, standing by the window, tears open the letter of Frank, and
+reads it by the wintery light. The three hours have passed.
+
+Why does his face change color, as he reads? The look of grief which
+his countenance wears is succeeded by one of utter horror.
+
+"The poison vial!" he ejaculates, and places the fatal letter in Mary's
+hand.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+A LOOK INTO THE RED BOOK.
+
+
+Madam Resimer was waiting in the little room up-stairs,--waiting and
+watching in that most secret chamber of her mansion,--her cheek resting
+on her hand, her eyes fixed upon the drawer from which the Red Book had
+been stolen. The day was bright without, but in the closed apartment,
+the Madam watched by the light of a candle, which was burning fast
+to the socket. The Madam had not slept. Her eyes were restless and
+feverish. Her cheeks, instead of their usual florid hues, were marked
+with alternate spots of white and red. Sitting in the arm-chair, (which
+her capacious form, clad in the chintz wrapper, filled to overflowing),
+the Madam beats the carpet nervously with her foot, and then her small
+black eyes assume a wicked, a vixenish look.
+
+Daylight is bright upon the city and river; ten o'clock is near,--the
+hour at which Dermoyne intended to return,--and yet the Madam has no
+word of the bullies whom last night she set upon Dermoyne's track. Near
+ten o'clock, and no news of Dirk, Slung-Shot, or--the Red Book!
+
+"Why _don't_ they come!" exclaimed the Madam, for the fiftieth time,
+and she beat the carpet wickedly with her foot.
+
+And from the shadows of the apartment, a voice, most lugubrious in its
+tone, uttered the solitary word,--"_Why?_"
+
+"If they don't come, what shall we do?" the Madam's eyes grew wickeder,
+and she began to "crack" the joints of her fingers.
+
+"_What?_" echoed the lugubrious voice.
+
+"I'll tell you what it is, Corkins," said the Madam, turning fiercely
+in her chair, "I wish the devil had you,--I do! Sittin' there in your
+chair, croakin' like a raven.--'What! Why!'" and she mimicked him
+wickedly; "when you should be doin' somethin' to stave off the trouble
+that's gatherin' round us. Now you know, that unless we get back the
+Red Book, we're ruined,--you know it?"
+
+"Com-pletely ruined!" echoed Corkins, who sat in the background, on the
+edge of a chair, his elbows on his knees, and his chin on his hands.
+Corkins, you will remember, is a little, slender man, clad in black,
+with a white cravat about his neck, a top-knot on his low forehead, a
+"goatee" on his chin, and gold spectacles on his nose. And as Corkins
+sits on the edge of his chair, he looks very much like a strange bird
+on its perch,--a bird of evil omen, meditating all sorts of calamities
+sure to happen to quite a number of people, at some time not definitely
+ascertained.
+
+"It's near ten o'clock," glancing at the gold watch which lay on
+the table before her, "and no word of Barnhurst, not even a hint of
+Dirk or Slung! And at ten, that villain who stole the book will come
+back,--that is, unless Dirk and Slung have taken care of him! I never
+was in such a fever in all my life! Corkins, what _is_ to be done? And
+your patient,--how is she?"
+
+"As for the patient up-stairs," Corkins began, but the words died away
+on his lips.
+
+The sound of a bell rang clearly, although gloomily throughout the
+mansion.
+
+"Go to the front door,--quick!"--in her impatience the Madam bounded
+from her chair. "See who's there. Open the door, but don't undo the
+chain; and don't,--do you hear?--don't let anybody in until you hear
+from me! Quick, I say!"
+
+"But it isn't the front door bell," hesitated Corkins.
+
+Again the sound of the bell was heard.
+
+"It's the bell of the secret passage," ejaculated Madam, changing
+color,--"the passage which leads to a back street, and of the existence
+of which, only four persons in the world know anything. There it goes
+again! who can it be?"
+
+The Madam was evidently very much perplexed. Corkins, who had risen
+from his perch, stood as though rooted to the floor; and the bell
+pealed loud and louder, in dismal echoes throughout the mansion.
+
+"Who can it be?" again asked the Madam, while a thousand vague
+suspicions floated through her brain.
+
+"Who can it be?" echoed Corkins, shaking like a dry leaf in the wind.
+
+Here let us leave them awhile in their perplexity, while we retrace
+our steps, and take up again the adventures of Barnhurst and Dermoyne.
+We left them in the dimly-lighted bed-chamber, at the moment when the
+faithful wife, awaking from her slumber, welcomed the return of her
+husband in these words,--"Husband! have you come at last? I have waited
+for you so long!"
+
+"Husband!" said the wife, awaking from her sleep, and stretching forth
+her arms, "have you come at last? I have waited for you so long!"
+
+"Dearest, I was detained by an unexpected circumstance," answered
+Barnhurst, and first turning to Dermoyne with an imploring gesture,
+he approached the bed, and kissed his wife and sleeping child. Then
+back to Dermoyne again with a stealthy step,--"Take your revenge!" he
+whispered; "advance, and tell everything to my wife."
+
+Dermoyne's face showed the contest of opposing emotions; now clouded
+with a hatred as remorseless as death, now touched with something
+like pity. At a rapid glance he surveyed the face of the trembling
+culprit,--the boy sleeping on his couch,--the mother resting on the
+bed, with her babe upon her bent arm,--and then uttered in a whisper, a
+single word,--"Come!"
+
+He led Barnhurst over the threshold, out upon the landing, and
+carefully closed the door of the bed-chamber.
+
+"Now, sir," he whispered, fixing his stern gaze upon Barnhurst's face,
+which was lighted by the rays of the lamp in the hall below,--"what
+have you to propose?"
+
+Barnhurst's _blonde_ visage was corpse-like in its pallor.
+
+"Nothing," he said, folding his arms with the air of a man who has lost
+all hope, and made up his mind to the worst. "I am in your power."
+
+Dermoyne, with this finger to his lip, remained for a moment buried
+in profound thought. Once his eyes, glancing sidelong, rested upon
+Barnhurst with a sort of ferocious glare. When he spoke again, it was
+in these words:--
+
+"Enter your bed-chamber, and sleep beside your faithful wife,
+and,--think of Alice. As for myself, I will watch for the morning,
+on the sofa, down stairs. Enter, I say!" he pointed sternly to the
+door,--"and remember! at morning we take up our march again. I _know_
+that you will not escape from me,--and as for your wife, if you do not
+wish her to see me, you will make your appearance at an early hour."
+
+Barnhurst, without a word, glided silently into the bed-chamber,
+closing the door after him. Dermoyne, listening for a moment, heard the
+voices of the husband and the wife, mingling in conversation. Then he
+went quietly down stairs, took down the hanging-lamp, and with it in
+his hand, entered a room on the lower floor.
+
+It was a neatly-furnished apartment with a sofa, a piano, and a
+portrait of Barnhurst on the wall. The remains of a wood-fire were
+smouldering on the hearth. Near the piano stood an empty cradle. It
+was very much like--home. It was, in a word, the room through whose
+curtained windows, we gazed in our brief episode, and saw the pure wife
+with her children, awaiting the return of the husband and father.
+
+Dermoyne lit a candle, which stood on a table, near the sofa, and then
+replaced the hanging lamp. This done, he came into the quiet parlor
+again,--without once pausing to notice that the front door was ajar.
+Had he but remarked this little fact, he might have saved himself a
+world of trouble. He flung his cloak upon the table, and placed his cap
+and the iron bar beside it. Then seating himself on the sofa, he drew
+the Red Book from under his left arm, where for hours he had securely
+carried it,--and spread it forth upon his knees. Drawing the light
+nearer to him, he began to examine the contents of that massive volume.
+How his countenance underwent all changes of expression, as page after
+page was disclosed to his gaze! At first his lip curled, and his brow
+grew dark,--there was doubtless much to move contempt and hatred in
+those pages,--but as he read on, his large gray eyes, dilating in their
+sockets, shone with steady light; every lineament of his countenance,
+manifested profound, absorbing interest.
+
+The Red Book!
+
+Of all the singular volumes, ever seen, this certainly was one of the
+most singular. It comprised perchance, one thousand manuscript pages,
+written by at least a hundred hands. There were original letters,
+and copies of letters; some of them traced by the tremulous hand of
+the dying. There were histories and fragments of histories,--the
+darkest record of the criminal court is not so black, as many a
+history comprised within the compass of this volume. It contained
+the history, sometimes complete sometimes in fragmentary shape, of
+all who had ever sought the aid of Madam Resimer, or,--suffered
+beneath her hands. And there were letters there, and histories there,
+which the Madam had evidently gathered, with a view of extorting
+money from certain persons, who had never passed into the circle of
+her infernal influence. All the crimes that can spring from unholy
+marriages, from violation of the marriage vow, from the seduction of
+innocent maidenhood, from the conflict between poor chastity and rich
+temptation, stood out upon those pages, in forms of terrible life.
+That book was a revelation of the civilization of a large city,--a
+glittering mask with a death's head behind it,--a living body chained
+to a leperous corpse. Instead of being called the Red Book, it should
+have been called the Black Book, or the Death Book, or the Mysteries of
+the Social World.
+
+How the aristocracy of the money power was set forth in those pages!
+That aristocracy which the French know as the "Bourgeoise," which the
+English style the "Middle Classes," and which the Devil knows for his
+"own,"--the name of whose god the Savior pronounced, when he uttered
+the word "Mammon,"--whose loftiest aspiration is embodied in the word
+"Respectable!" How this modern aristocracy of the money power, stood
+out in naked life, showy and mean, glittering and heartless, upon
+the pages of the Red Book! Stood out in colors, painted, not by an
+enemy, but by its own hand, the mark of its baseness stamped upon its
+forehead, by its own peculiar seal.
+
+One history was there, which, written in different hands, in an
+especial manner, riveted the interest of Arthur Dermoyne. Bending
+forward, with the light of the candle upon his brow, he read it page by
+page, his face manifesting every contrast of emotion as he read. For
+a title it bore a single name, written in a delicate womanly
+hand,--"MARION MERLIN." The greater portion of the history was written
+in the same hand.
+
+Leaning upon the shoulder of Arthur Dermoyne, let us, with him, read
+this sad, dark history.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+MARION MERLIN.
+
+
+At the age of eighteen I was betrothed to Walter Howard, a young man of
+polished manners, elegant exterior, and connected with one of the first
+families of New York. I was beautiful, so the world said,--eighteen and
+an heiress. My father was one of the wealthiest merchants of New York,
+with a princely mansion in town, and as princely a mansion, for summer
+residence, in the country. I had lost my mother, at an age so early,
+that I can but dimly remember her pallid face. At eighteen, I was my
+father's only and idolized child.
+
+Returning from boarding-school, where, apart from the busy world, I
+had passed four years of a life, which afterward was to be marked by
+deeds so singular, yes, unnatural, I was invested by my father, with
+the keys of his city mansion, and installed as its mistress. Still kept
+apart from the world,--for my father guarded me from its wiles and
+temptations, with an eye of sleepless jealousy,--I was left to form
+ideas of my future life, from the fancies of my day-dreams, or from
+what knowledge I had gleaned from books. Walter was my father's head
+clerk. In that capacity he often visited our mansion. To see him was
+to love him. His form was graceful, and yet manly; his complexion a
+rich bronze; his eyes dark, penetrating and melancholy. As for myself,
+a picture which, amid all my changing fortunes, I have preserved as
+a relic of happy and innocent days, shows a girl of eighteen, with a
+form that may well be called voluptuous, and a face, (shaded by masses
+of raven hair,) which, with its clear bronzed complexion, large hazel
+eyes, and arching brows, tells the story of my descent on my mother's
+side,--she was a West-Indian, and there is Spanish blood in my veins.
+My acquaintance with Walter, ripened into warm and passionate love, and
+one day, my father surprised me, as I hung upon my lover's breast, and
+instead of chiding us, said with a look of unmistakable affection:
+
+"Right, Walter. You have won my daughter's love. When you return from
+the West Indies, you shall be married; and once married, instead of my
+head clerk, you shall be my partner."
+
+My father was a venerable man, with a kindly face and snow-white
+hair: as he spoke the tears ran down his cheeks, for (as I afterward
+ascertained,) my marriage with Walter, the orphan of one of the dearest
+friends of his boyhood, had been the most treasured hope of his life
+for years.
+
+Walter left for Havana, intrusted with an important and secret
+commission from my father. He was to be absent only a month. Why was
+it, on the day of his departure, as he strained me to his breast and
+covered my face with his passionate kisses, that a deep presentiment
+chilled my blood? O had he never left my side, what a world of agony,
+of despair,--yes of crime,--would have been spared to me!
+
+"Be true to me, Marion!" these were his last words,--"in a month I will
+return--"
+
+"True to you! can you doubt it Walter? True until death,--" and we
+parted.
+
+I was once more alone, in my father's splendid mansion. One evening
+he came home, but not with his usual kindly smile. He was pale
+and troubled, and seemed to avoid my gaze. Without entering the
+sitting-room, he went at once to his library, and locked himself in,
+having first directed the servant to call him, in case a Mr. Issachar
+Burley inquired for him. It was after eight when Mr. Burley called, and
+was shown into the parlor, while the servant went to announce him to my
+father.
+
+"Miss Marion, I believe!" he said, as he beheld me by the light of
+the astral-lamp,--and then a singular look passed over his face; a
+look which at that time I could not define, but which afterward was
+made terribly clear to me. This Mr. Burley, who thus for the first
+time entered my father's house, was by no means prepossessing in his
+exterior. Over fifty years of age, corpulent in form, bald-headed, his
+florid face bore the undeniable traces of a life, exhausted in sensual
+indulgences.
+
+While I was taking a survey of this singular visitor, the servant
+entered the parlor,--
+
+"Mr. Burley will please walk up into the library," he said.
+
+"Good night, dear," said Mr. Burley with a bow, and a gesture that
+had as much of insolence as of politeness in it,--"By-by,--we'll meet
+again."
+
+He went up stairs, and my father and he, were closeted together for at
+least two hours. At ten o'clock I was sent for. I entered the library,
+trembling, I know not why; and found my father and Mr. Burley, seated
+on opposite sides of a table overspread with papers,--a hanging lamp,
+suspended over the table, gave light to the scene. My father was deadly
+pale.
+
+"Sit down, Marion," he said, in a voice so broken and changed, that I
+would not have recognized it, had I not seen his face,--"Mr. Burley has
+something to say to you."
+
+"Mr. Burley!" I ejaculated,--"What can he have to say to me?"
+
+"Speak to her,--speak," said my father,--"speak, for I cannot,--" and
+resting his hands on the table, his head dropped on his breast.
+
+"Sit down, my dear," exclaimed Burley, in a tone of easy
+familiarity,--"I have a little matter of business with your father.
+There's no use of mincing words. Your father, my dear, is a ruined man."
+
+I sank into a chair, and my father's groan confirmed Burley's words.
+
+"Hopelessly involved," continued Mr. Burley,--"Unless he can raise
+three hundred thousand dollars by to-morrow noon, he is a _dishonored_
+man. Do you hear me, my dear? Dishonored!"
+
+"Dishonored!" groaned my father burying his head in his hands.
+
+"And more than this," continued Burley, "Your father, among his many
+mercantile speculations, has dabbled a little,--yes more than a
+little,--in the African slave-trade. He has relations with certain
+gentlemen at Havana, which once known to our government, would consign
+him to the convict's cell."
+
+The words of the man filled me with indignation, and with horror. Half
+fainting as I was, I felt the blood boil in my veins.
+
+"Father, rebuke the liar,"--I said as I placed my hand on his
+shoulder.--"Raise your face, and tell him that he is the coiner of a
+falsehood, as atrocious as it is foolish--"
+
+My father did not reply.
+
+"And more than this,"--Burley went on, as though he had not heard
+me,--"I have it in my power, either to relieve your father from his
+financial embarrassments, or,--" he paused and surveyed me from head to
+foot, "or to denounce him to the government as one guilty, of something
+which it calls _piracy_,--to wit, an intimate relationship with the
+African slave trade."
+
+Again my father groaned, but did not raise his face.
+
+The full truth burst upon me. My father was ruined, and in this man's
+power. Confused,--half maddened, I flung myself upon my knees, and
+clasped Burley by the hands.
+
+"O, you will not ruin my father," I shrieked.--"You will save him."
+
+Burley took my hands within his own, and bent down, until I felt his
+breath upon my cheeks--
+
+"Yes, I will save him," he whispered,--"That is, for a price,--your
+hand, my dear."
+
+His look could not be mistaken. At the same moment, my father raised
+his face from his hands,--it was pallid, distorted, stamped with
+despair.
+
+"It is the only way, Marion," he said in a broken voice,--"Otherwise
+your father must rot in a felon's cell."
+
+Amid all the misfortunes of a varied and changeful life, the agony of
+that moment has never once been forgotten. I felt the blood rush to my
+head--
+
+"Be it so," I cried,--and fell like a dead woman on the floor, at the
+feet of Mr. Issachar Burley.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+NIAGARA.
+
+
+The next day we were married. In the dusk of the evening four figures
+stood in the spacious parlor of my father's mansion, by the light of a
+single waxen-candle. There was the clergyman, gazing in dumb surprise
+upon the parties to this ill-assorted marriage, there was my father,
+his countenance vacant almost to imbecility,--for the blow had stricken
+his intellect--there was the bridegroom, his countenance glowing with
+sensual triumph; and there the bride, pale as the bridal-dress which
+enveloped her form, about to be sacrificed on the altar of an unholy
+marriage. We were married, and between the parlor and the bridal
+chamber, one hope remained. Rather than submit to the embrace of the
+unworthy sensualist, I had determined to die, even upon the threshold
+of the bridal chamber. I had provided myself with a poniard. But alas!
+a glass of wine, drugged by my husband's hand, benumbed my reason, and
+when morning light broke upon me again, I found myself in his arms.
+
+The history of the next three months may be rapidly told, for they were
+months of agony and shame.
+
+"I have directed Walter by letter, to proceed from Havana to the
+city of Mexico," said my father to me, the second day after the
+marriage--"He will not return for six months, and certainly until his
+return, shall not hear of this,--this,--marriage."
+
+My father's mind was broken, and from that hour, he surrendered himself
+to Issachar's control. Burley took charge of his business, made our
+house his home,--he was my father's master and mine. The course which
+he pursued to blunt my feelings, and deaden every faculty of my better
+nature, by rousing all that was sensual within me, was worthy of him.
+He gave parties at our home, to the profligate of both sexes, selected
+from a certain class of the so-called "fashionables," of New York.
+Revels, prolonged from midnight until dawn, disturbed the quiet of
+our mansion; and in the wine-cup, and amid the excitement of those
+fashionable, but unholy orgies, I soon learned to forget the pure hopes
+of my maidenhood.
+
+Three months passed, and no word of Walter; my father, meanwhile, was
+sinking deeper every day into hopeless imbecility. At length, the early
+part of summer, my husband gathered together a party of his fashionable
+friends, and we departed on a tour to Niagara Falls, up the lakes, and
+then along the St. Lawrence, and to Montreal. At Niagara Falls we put
+up at the ---- Hotel, and the orgies which had disgraced my father's
+mansion, were again resumed. My father we had left at home, in charge
+of a well-tried and faithful servant. One summer evening, tired of the
+scenes which took place in our parlors, at the hotel, I put on a bonnet
+and vail, and alone pursued my way, across the bridge to Iris Island,
+and from Iris to Luna Island. The night was beautiful; from a clear sky
+the moon shone over the falls; and the roar of waters, alone disturbed
+the silence of the scene. Crossing the narrow bridge which separates
+Iris Island from Luna Island, I took my way through the deep shadows
+of the thicket, until I emerged in the moonlight, upon the verge of
+the falls. Leaning against a small beech tree, which stands there,
+I clasped my hands upon my bosom, and wept. That scene, full of the
+grandeur and purity of nature, awoke the memory of my pure and happier
+days.
+
+"One plunge and all is over!" the thought flashed over me,--and I
+measured with a rapid glance, the distance between myself and the brink
+of the cataract. But at this moment I discovered that I was not alone
+upon Luna Island. A stranger was leaning against a tree, which was
+nearer to the brink of the falls than the one against which I leaned.
+His face was in profile, the lower part of it covered with a thick
+moustache and beard; and his gaze was lifted absently to the moonlight
+sky. As I dropped my vail over my face, and gazed at him freely, myself
+unperceived, I felt my limbs bend beneath me, and the blood rush in a
+torrent to my head.
+
+I had only strength to frame one word--"Walter!" and fell fainting on
+his breast.
+
+When I recovered my consciousness, I found myself resting in his arms,
+while he covered my face with burning kisses.
+
+"You here, Marion!" he cried. "This is indeed an unexpected pleasure!"
+
+He had not heard of my marriage!
+
+"I am here, with some friends," I faltered. "My father could not come
+with me--and--"
+
+Between the kisses which he planted upon the lips of his betrothed--(so
+he thought)--he explained his unexpected appearance at Niagara. At
+Havana he had received the letter from my father, desiring him to
+hasten, on important business, to the city of Mexico. He had obeyed,
+and accomplished his mission sooner than he anticipated; had left Vera
+Cruz for New Orleans; taken steamboat for Cincinnati, and from thence
+to Cleveland, and across the lake to Buffalo and Niagara Falls.
+
+"And now I'm on my way home, Marion," he concluded. "What a pleasant
+surprise it will be for father!"
+
+"I am married, Walter."--The words were on my lips, but I could not
+speak them.
+
+We rose, and, arm in arm, wandered over the bridge, up the steep, and
+through the winding walks of Goat Island. Leaning on the arm of Walter,
+I forgot everything but that he loved me and that he was with me. I
+did not dare to think that to-morrow's light would disclose to him the
+truth--that I was married, and to another. At length, as we approached
+the bridge which leads from the Island to the shore, I said--"Leave me
+Walter; we must not be seen to return together. To-morrow you can call
+upon me, when I am in presence of my--friends."
+
+One passionate embrace was exchanged, and I watched him, as he crossed
+the bridge alone, until he was out of sight. Why, I knew not, but an
+impulse for which I could not account, induced me to retrace my steps
+to Luna Island. In a few moments I had crossed the bridge (connecting
+Iris with Luna Island,) and stood once more on the Cataract's brink,
+under the same tree where an hour before I had discovered Walter. Oh,
+the agony of that moment, as, gazing over the falls, I called up my
+whole life, my blighted prospect, and my future without one ray of
+hope! Should I advance, but a single step, and bury my shame and my
+sorrows beneath the cataract? Once dead, Walter would at least respect
+my memory, while living he could only despise and abhor me.
+
+While thoughts like these flashed over my brain, my ear was saluted
+with the chorus of a drinking song, hummed in an uneven and tremulous
+voice; and, in a moment my husband passed before me, with an unsteady
+step. He was confused and excited by the fumes of champagne.
+Approaching the verge of the island--but a few feet from the verge of
+the cataract--where the waters look smooth and glassy, as they are
+about to take the last plunge, he stood gazing, now at the torrent, now
+at the moon, with a vague, half-drunken stare.
+
+That moment decided my life!
+
+His attitude, the cataract so near, my own lost and hopeless condition,
+all rushed upon me. Vailing my face, I darted forward and uttered a
+shriek. Startled by the unexpected sound, he turned, lost his balance,
+and fell backward into the torrent. But, as he fell, he clutched a
+branch which overhung the water. Thus, scarcely two yards from the
+brink, he struggled madly for his life, his face upturned to the moon.
+I advanced and uncovered my face. He knew me, for the shock had sobered
+him.
+
+"Marion, save me, save me!" he cried.
+
+I gazed upon him without a word, my arms folded on my breast, and saw
+him struggle, and heard the branch snap, and--heard his death-howl,
+as he was swept over the falls. Then, pale as death, and shuddering
+as with mortal cold, I dragged my steps from the Island, over the
+bridge--shrieking madly for help. Soon, I heard footsteps and voices.
+"Help! help!" I shrieked, as I was surrounded by a group of faces, men
+and women. "My husband! my husband! the falls!" and sank, fainting, in
+their midst.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+A SECOND MARRIAGE.
+
+
+Morning came, and no suspicion attached to me. A murderess--if not in
+deed, in thought, certainly--I was looked upon as the inconsolable
+widow. Walter left Niagara without seeing me. How did he regard me?
+I could not tell. The death of Burley broke up our traveling party,
+and we returned to New York. I returned in time to attend my father's
+funeral; and found myself the heiress, in my own right, of three
+hundred thousand dollars. An heiress and a widow, certainly life began
+to brighten! Burley removed, the incubus which sat upon my father's
+wealth was gone; and I was beautiful, and free, and rich--immensely
+rich.
+
+But where was Walter? Months passed, and I did not see him. As he was
+the head clerk of my father, I hoped to see him, in company with legal
+gentlemen, engaged to close up my father's estate. But he settled his
+accounts, closed all connection with my father's estate and business,
+but did not come near me. At length, weary of suspense, and heart-sick
+of the loneliness of my desolate mansion, I wrote to him, begging an
+interview.
+
+He called in the dusk of the evening, when a single candle lighted up
+the spacious and gloomy parlor. He was dressed in deep mourning, and
+very pale.
+
+"_Madam_, you wished to see me," he began.
+
+This cold and formal manner cut me to the heart.
+
+"Walter!" I cried, and flung myself upon his breast, and passionately,
+but in broken accents, told him how my father's anticipated ruin had
+forced me to marry Burley.
+
+Walter was melted. "Marion, I love you, and always shall love you,
+but--but--"
+
+He paused. In an agony of suspense I hung upon his words.
+
+"But--"
+
+"But you are so rich, and I--I--am poor!"
+
+I drowned all further words with kisses, and in a moment we were
+betrothed again.
+
+We were married. Walter was the master of my fortune, my person and my
+future. We lived happily together, content with each other's society,
+and seeking, in the endearments of a pure marriage, to blot out the
+memory of an unholy one. My husband, truly my husband, was all that
+I could desire; and by me, he became the possessor of a princely
+revenue, free to gratify his taste for all that is beautiful in the
+arts, in painting and sculpture, without hinderance or control.
+Devoted to me, always kind, eager to gratify my slightest wish, Walter
+was all that I could desire. We lived to ourselves, and forgot the
+miserable mockery called "the fashionable world," into which Burley
+had introduced me. Thus a year passed away, and present happiness
+banished the memory of a gloomy past. After a year, Walter began to
+have important engagements, on pressing business, in Philadelphia,
+Boston, Baltimore and Washington. His absence was death to me; but,
+having full confidence in him, and aware that his business must be of
+vital importance, or assuredly he would not leave me, I saw him depart,
+time and again, with grief too deep for words, and always hailed his
+return--the very echo of his step with a joy as deep. On one occasion,
+when he left me, for a day, on a business visit to Philadelphia, I
+determined--I scarcely knew why--to follow him, and greet him, on his
+arrival in Philadelphia, with the unexpected but welcome surprise of
+my presence. Clothing myself in black--black velvet bonnet, and black
+velvet mantilla, and with a dark vail over my face--I followed him to
+the ferry-boat, crossed to Jersey City, and took my seat near him in
+the cars. We arrived in Philadelphia late at night. To my surprise he
+did not put up at one of the prominent hotels, but bent his way to an
+obscure and distant part of the city. I followed him to a remote part
+of Kensington, and saw him knock at the door of an isolated two-story
+house. After a pause, it was opened, and he entered. I waited from
+the hour of twelve until three, but he did not re-appear. Sadly and
+with heavy steps I bent my way to the city, and took lodgings at a
+respectable but third-rate tavern, representing myself as a widow
+from the interior, and taking great care to conceal my face from the
+gaze of the landlord and servants. Next morning it was my first care
+to procure a male dress,--it matters not how, or with what caution
+and trouble,--and, tying it up in a compact bundle, I made my way to
+the open country and entered a wood. It was the first of autumn, and
+already the leaves were tinted with rainbow dyes. In the thickest
+part of the wood I disposed of my female attire, and assumed the
+male dress--blue frock, buttoned to the throat, dark pantaloons,
+and gaiter boots. My dark hair I arranged beneath a glazed cap with
+military buttons. Cutting a switch I twirled it jauntily in my hand,
+and, anxious to test my disguise, entered a wayside cottage--near the
+Second Street Road--and asked for a glass of water. While the back of
+the tenant of the cottage--an aged woman--was turned, I gazed in the
+looking-glass, and beheld myself, to all appearance, a young man of
+medium stature, with brown complexion of exceeding richness, lips of
+cherry red, arched brows, eyes of unusual brilliancy, and black hair,
+arranged in a glossy mass beneath a glazed cap. It was the image of a
+handsome boy of nineteen, with no down on the lip and no beard on the
+chin. Satisfied with my disguise, and with a half-formed idea floating
+through my brain, I bent my steps to the isolated house, which I had
+seen my husband enter the night before. I knocked; the door was opened
+by a young girl, plainly clad, but of surpassing beauty--evidently not
+more than sixteen years old. A sunny complexion, blue eyes, masses of
+glossy brown hair, combined with an expression which mingled voluptuous
+warmth with stainless innocence. Such was her face. As to her form,
+although not so tall as mine, it mingled the graceful outlines of the
+maiden with the ripeness of the woman.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+A SECOND MURDER.
+
+
+She gazed upon me with surprise. Obeying a sudden impulse, I
+said--"Excuse me, Miss, but I promised to meet _him_ here. You know,"
+with a polite bow and smile, "you know whom I mean?"
+
+"Mr. Barton--" she hesitated.
+
+"Exactly so; Mr. Barton, my intimate friend, who has confided _all_ to
+me, and who desired me to meet him here at this hour."
+
+"My mother is not at home," hesitated the young girl, "and, in her
+absence, I do not like to--"
+
+"Receive strangers, you were about to add? Well, Miss, I am not a
+stranger. As the intimate friend of Mr. Barton, who especially desired
+me to meet him here--"
+
+These words seemed to resolve all her doubts. She motioned me to enter,
+and we passed into a small room, neatly furnished, with the light
+which came through the curtained windows, shining upon a picture,--the
+portrait of Walter Howard, my husband.
+
+"Capital likeness of Barton," I said, carelessly tapping my switch
+against my boot.
+
+"Yes,--yes," she replied as she took a seat at the opposite end of the
+sofa,--"but not so handsome."
+
+In the course of two hours, in which with a maddened pulse and heaving
+breast, I waited for the appearance of my husband, I learned from the
+young girl the following facts:--She was a poor girl, and her mother,
+with whom she lived, a widow in very moderate circumstances. Her name
+was Ada Bulmer. Mr. Lawrence Barton (this, of course, was the assumed
+name of my husband,) was a wealthy gentleman of a noble heart,--he
+had saved her life in a railroad accident, some months before. He had
+been unhappy, however, in marriage; was now divorced from a wicked and
+unfaithful woman; and,--here was the climax,--"and next week we are to
+be married, and mother, Lawrence, and myself will proceed to Europe
+directly after our marriage."
+
+This was Ada's story, which I heard with emotions that can scarcely
+be imagined. Every word planted a hell in my heart. At length, toward
+nightfall, a knock was heard, and Ada hastened to the door. Presently I
+heard my husband's step in the entry, and then his voice,--
+
+"Dearest,----" there was the sound of a kiss,--"I have got rid of that
+infamous woman, who killed her first husband, and have turned all my
+property into ready money. On Monday we start for Europe."
+
+He entered, and as he entered I glided behind the door. Thus his back
+was toward me, while his face was toward Ada, and his arms about her
+waist.
+
+"On Monday, dearest, we will be married, and then----"
+
+I was white with rage, but calm as death. Drawing the poniard, (which I
+had never parted with since I first procured it,) I advanced and struck
+him, once, twice, thrice, in the back. He never beheld me, but fell
+upon Ada's breast, bathed in blood. She uttered a shriek, but laying my
+hand upon her shoulder, I said, sternly,--
+
+"Not a word! this villain seduced _my only sister_, as he would have
+seduced you!"
+
+I tore him from her arms, and laid him on the sofa; he was speechless;
+the blood flowed from his mouth and nostrils, but by his glance, I saw
+that he knew me. Ada, white as a shroud, tottered toward him.
+
+"Seducer of my sister, have we met at last?" I said aloud,--and then
+bending my face to his, and my bosom close to his breast, I whispered,--
+
+"The _wicked woman_ who killed her first husband, gives you this,"--and
+in my rage buried the poniard in his heart.
+
+Ada fell fainting to the floor, and I hurried from the house. It was a
+dark night, enlivened only by the rays of the stars, but I gained the
+wood, washed the blood from my hands, and resumed my female attire. In
+less than an hour, I reached the depot at Kensington, entered the cars,
+and before twelve, crossed the threshold of my own home in New York.
+
+How I passed the night,--with what emotions of agony, remorse,
+jealousy,--matters not. And for three days afterward, as I awaited for
+the developments, I was many times near raving madness. The account
+of my husband's death filled the papers; and it was supposed that he
+had been killed by some unknown man, in revenge, for the seduction
+of a sister. My wild demeanor was attributed to natural grief at his
+untimely end.
+
+On the fourth day I had his body brought on from Philadelphia; and on
+the fifth, celebrated his funeral, following his corpse to the family
+vault, draped in widow's weeds, and blinded with tears of grief, or
+of--despair. Ada Bulmer I never saw again, but believe she died within
+a year of consumption or a broken heart.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+MARION AND HERMAN BARNHURST.
+
+
+Alone in my mansion, secluded from the world, I passed many months
+in harrowing meditations on the past. Oftentimes I saw the face of
+Walter dabbled in blood, and both awake and in my dreams, I saw, O,
+how vividly his _last look_! I was still rich, (although Walter, as
+I discovered, after his death, had recklessly squandered more than
+one-half of my fortune,) but what mattered riches to one devoured
+like myself by an ever-gnawing remorse? What might I have been had
+not Burley forced me into that unholy marriage? This question was
+never out of my mind for a long year, during which I wore the weeds of
+widowhood, and kept almost entirely within the limits of my mansion.
+
+Toward the close of the year an incident occurred which had an
+important bearing on my fate. Near my home stood a church, in which
+a young and eloquent preacher held forth to the admiration of a
+fashionable congregation, every Sabbath-day. On one occasion I occupied
+a seat near the pulpit, and was much struck by his youthful appearance,
+combined with eloquence so touching and enthusiastic. His eagle
+eye, shone from his pallid face, with all the fire of an earnest, a
+heartfelt sincerity. I was struck by the entire manner of the man, and
+more than once in his sermon he seemed to address me in especial, for
+our eyes met, as though there was a mutual magnetism in our gaze. When
+I returned home I could not banish his face nor his accents from my
+memory; I felt myself devoured by opposing emotions; remorse for the
+past, mingled with a sensation of interest in the youthful preacher.
+At length, after much thought, I sent him this note by the hands of a
+servant in livery:--
+
+ REVEREND SIR,--
+
+ A lady who heard your eloquent sermon on "_Conscience_," on Sabbath
+ last, desires to ask your advice in a matter touching the peace of
+ her soul. She resides at No. ----, and will be glad to receive you
+ to-morrow evening.
+
+ M. H.
+
+This singular note was dispatched, and the servant directed to inform
+the Rev. Herman Barnhurst of my full name. As the appointed hour drew
+nigh, I felt nervous and restless. Will he come? Shall I unbosom myself
+to him, and obtain at least a portion of mental peace by confessing the
+deeds and thoughts which rest so heavy on my soul? At last dusk came;
+two candles stood lighted on the mantle of the front parlor, and seated
+on the sofa I nervously awaited the coming of the preacher.
+
+"I will confess all!" I thought, and raising my eyes, surveyed myself
+in the mirror which hung opposite. The past year, with all its sorrow,
+had rather added to, than detracted from, my personal appearance. My
+form was more matured and womanly. And the sorrow which I had endured
+had given a grave earnestness to my look, which, in the eyes of some,
+would have been more winning than the glance of voluptuous languor.
+Dressed in deep black, my bust covered to the throat, and my hair
+gathered plainly aside from my face, I looked the grave, serious--and,
+I may add, without vanity--the beautiful widow. The Rev. Herman
+Barnhurst was announced at last,--how I trembled as I heard his step in
+the hall! He entered, and greeting him with an extended hand, I thanked
+him warmly for calling in answer to my informal note, and motioned him
+to a chair. There was surprise and constraint in his manner, but he
+never once took his eyes from my face. He stammered and even blushed as
+he spoke to me.
+
+"You spoke, madam, of a case of conscience," he began.
+
+"A case of conscience about which I wished to speak to you."
+
+"Surely," he said, fixing his gaze earnestly upon me, and his words
+seemed to be forced from him, even against his will,--"surely one so
+beautiful and so good cannot have anything like sin upon her soul----"
+
+Our gaze met, and from that moment we talked of everything but the
+case of conscience. All his restraint vanished. His eye flashed, his
+voice rolled deep and full; he was eloquent, and he was at home. We
+seemed to have been acquainted for years. We talked of history, poetry,
+the beautiful in nature, the wonderful in art; and we talked without
+effort, as though our minds mingled together, without even the aid of
+voice and eyes. Time sped noiselessly,--it was twelve o'clock before we
+thought it nine. He rose to go.
+
+"I shall do myself the pleasure to call again," he said, and his voice
+faltered.
+
+I extended my hand; his hand met it in a gentle pressure. That touch
+decided our fate. As though my very being and his had rushed together
+and melted into one, in that slight pressure of hand to hand, we stood
+silent and confused,--one feeling in our gaze,--blushing and pale by
+turns.
+
+"Woman," he said, in a voice scarcely above a whisper, "you will drive
+me mad," and sank half-fainting on his knees.
+
+I bent down and drew him to my breast, and covered his forehead with
+kisses. Pale, half-fainting, he lay almost helpless in my arms.
+
+"Not mad, Herman," I whispered, "but I will be your good angel; I will
+cheer you in your mission of good. I will watch over you as you ascend,
+step by step, the difficult steep of fame; and Herman, I will love you."
+
+It was the first time that young brow had trembled to a woman's kiss.
+
+"Nay,--nay,--tempt me not," he murmured, and unwound my arms from his
+neck, and staggered to the door.
+
+But as he reached the threshold, he turned,--our gaze met,--he rushed
+forward with outspread arms,--
+
+"I love you!" he cried, and his face was buried on my bosom.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+From that hour the Rev. Herman Barnhurst was the constant visitor at my
+house. He lived in my presence. His sermons, formerly lofty and somber
+in their enthusiasm, became colored with a passionate warmth. I felt
+a strange interest in the beautiful boy; a feeling compounded of pure
+love; of passion; of voluptuousness, the most intense and refined.
+
+"O, Marion, do you not think that if I act aright in all other
+respects, that this _one sin_ will be forgiven me?" said Herman, as one
+Sabbath evening, after the service was over, we sat, side by side, in
+my house. It was in a quiet room, the curtains drawn, a light shining
+in front of a mirror, and a couch dimly seen through the shadows of an
+alcove.
+
+"One sin? what mean you, Herman?"
+
+"The sin of loving you,"--and he blushed as his earnest gaze met mine.
+
+"And is it a sin to love me?" I answered in a low voice, suffering my
+hand to rest upon his forehead.
+
+"Yes," he stammered,--"to love you thus unlawfully."
+
+"Why unlawfully?"
+
+He buried his head on my breast, as he replied,--"I love you as a
+husband, and I am not your husband."
+
+"And why--" I exclaimed, seizing him in my arms, and gently raising his
+head, so that our gaze met,--"and why can you not be my husband? I am
+rich; you have genius. My wealth,--enough for us both,--shall be linked
+with your genius, and both shall the more firmly cement our love. Say,
+Herman, why can you not be my husband?"
+
+He turned pale, and avoided my gaze.
+
+"You are ashamed of me,--ashamed, because I have given you the last
+proof which a woman can give to the man she loves."
+
+"Ashamed! O, no, no,--by all that is sacred, no,--but Marion----"
+
+And bending nearer to me, in faltering accents, he whispered the secret
+to my ears. He was betrothed to Fanny Lansdale, the daughter of the
+wealthiest and most influential member of his congregation. He had
+been betrothed long before he met me. To Mr. Lansdale, the father, he
+owed all that he had acquired in life, both in position and fame. That
+gentleman had taken him when a friendless orphan boy, had educated him,
+and after his ordination, had obtained for him the pastoral charge of
+his large and wealthy congregation. Thus, he was bound to the father by
+every tie of gratitude; to the daughter by an engagement that he could
+not break, without ingratitude and disgrace. My heart died within me
+at this revelation. At once I saw that Herman could never be lawfully
+mine. Between him and myself stood Fanny Lansdale, and every tie of
+gratitude, and every emotion of self-respect and honor.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+MARION AND FANNY.
+
+
+Not long after this interview, I saw Fanny Lansdale at church; made
+the acquaintance of her father--a grave citizen, who regarded me as a
+sincere devotee--and induced Fanny to become a frequent visitor at my
+house. She confided all to me. She loved Herman devotedly, and looked
+forward to their marriage as the most certain event in the world. She
+was a very pretty child, with clear blue eyes, luxuriant hair, and a
+look of bewitching archness. I do not step aside from the truth, when
+I state that I sincerely loved her; although it is also true, that I
+never suffered myself to think of her marriage with Herman as anything
+but an impossible dream. An incident took place one summer evening,
+about a year after Herman's first visit to my house, which, slight
+as it was, it is just as well to relate. It is such slight incidents
+which often decide the fate of a lifetime, and strike down the barrier
+between innocence and crime.
+
+I was sitting on the sofa at the back window of the parlor, and Fanny
+sat on the stool at my feet. The light of the setting sun shone over my
+shoulders, and lighted up her face, as her clasped hands rested on my
+knees, and her happy, guileless look, was centered on my countenance.
+As I gazed upon that innocent face, full of youth and hope, I was
+reminded of my own early days; and at the memory, a tear rolled down my
+cheek.
+
+"Yes, you shall marry Herman," the thought flashed over my mind; "and I
+will aid you, Fanny; yes, I will resign Herman to you."
+
+At this moment Herman entered noiselessly, and took his place by my
+shoulder; and, without a word, gazed first into my face and then into
+the face of Fanny. Oh, that look! It was never forgotten. It was
+fate. For it said, as plainly as a soul, speaking through eyes, can
+say--"Thou, Marion, art my mistress, the companion of my illicit and
+sensual love; but thou, Fanny, art my wife, the pure partner of my
+lawful love!"
+
+After that look, Herman bade us good evening! in a tone of evident
+agitation, and hurried from the room.
+
+From that hour, Herman avoided me. Weeks passed, and he was not seen
+at my house. At church he never seemed to be conscious of my presence;
+and, the service over, hurried at once from the place, without a single
+glance or sign of recognition. At length, Fanny's visits became less
+frequent; and, when she did come to see me, her manner manifested a
+conflict of confidence and suspicion. That this wounded me--that the
+absence of Herman cut me to the soul--may easily be imagined. I passed
+my time between alternations of hope and despair; now listening, and
+in vain, for the echo of Herman's step--and now bathed in unavailing
+tears. Conscious that my passion for Herman was the last link that
+bound me to purity--to life itself--I did not give up the hope of
+seeing him at my feet, as in former days, until months had elapsed.
+Finally, grown desperate, and anxious to avoid the sting of wounded
+love, the perpetual presence of harrowing memories, I sought the
+society of that class of fashionables, to whom my first husband,
+Issachar Burley, had introduced me. I kept open house for them. Revels,
+from midnight until dawn, in which men and women of the first class
+mingled, served for a time to banish reflection, and sap, tie by tie,
+every thread of hope which held me to a purer state of life. The kennel
+has its orgies, and the hovel, in which ignorance and squalor join in
+their uncouth debauch; but the orgie of the parlor, in which beauty,
+intellect, fashion and refinement are mingled, far surpasses, in
+unutterable vulgarity, the lowest orgie of the kennel. Amid the uproar
+of scenes like these, news reached me that the Rev. Herman Barnhurst
+and Miss Fanny Lansdale were shortly to be united in marriage.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+AN UNUTTERABLE CRIME.
+
+
+One evening I was sitting alone, in the back parlor, near a table on
+which stood a lighted candle and a wine-glass, (for I now at times
+began to seek oblivion in wine,) when Gerald Dudley was announced.
+Gerald was one of my fashionable friends, over forty in years, tall
+in stature, with a florid face, short curling brown hair, and sandy
+whiskers. He was a _roué_, and a gambler, and--save the mark--one of
+the first fashionables of New York. He entered, dressed in a showy
+style; blue coat, red velvet vest, plaid pants, brimstone-colored
+gloves, and a profusion of rings and other jewelry--a style indicative
+of the man. Seating himself on the sofa, he began chatting in his easy
+way about passing events of fashionable life, and of the world at large.
+
+"By-the-bye, the popular preacher, young Barnhurst, is to be
+married; and to such a love of a girl--daughter of old Lansdale, the
+_millionaire_. Lucky fellow! Do you know that I've often noticed her at
+church--a perfect _Hebe_--and followed her home, once or twice, and
+that I shouldn't mind marrying her myself if I could get a chance!"
+
+And he laughed a laugh which showed his white teeth. "Bah! But that's
+it--I can't get a chance."
+
+Perhaps I blushed at the mention of this marriage; but he immediately
+continued:--
+
+"_On dit_, my pretty widow, that this girl, Lansdale, has cut you out.
+Barnhurst once was sadly taken with you; so I've heard. How is it? All
+talk, I suppose?"
+
+I felt myself growing pale, although the blood was boiling in my
+veins. But before I could reply, there was a ring at the front door,
+followed by the sound of a hasty footstep, and the next moment, to my
+utter surprise, Fanny Lansdale rushed into the room. Without seeming
+to notice the presence of Dudley, she rushed forward, and fell on her
+knees before me, her bonnet hanging on her neck, her hair floating
+about her face, and that face bathed in blushes and tears.
+
+"Oh, Marion! Marion!" she gasped,--"some slanderer has told father
+a story about you and Herman,--a vile, wicked story,--which you can
+refute, and which I am sure you will! For--for--"
+
+She fell fainting on my knee. The violence of her emotions, for the
+time, deprived her of all appearance of life. Her head was on my lap;
+one hand sought mine, and was joined to it in a convulsive clasp.
+
+Oh, who shall say that those crimes which make the world shudder but
+to hear told, are the result of long and skillful planning, of careful
+and intricate scheming? No, no; the worst crimes--those which it would
+seem might make even the heart of a devil, contract with horror--are
+not the result of long and deliberate purpose, but of the temptation of
+a moment--of the fatal opportunity!
+
+As her head rested on my lap, a voice whispered in my ear:
+
+"Your rival! Retire for a few moments, in search of hartshorn, or some
+such restorative, and leave the fainting one in my care."
+
+I raised my head and caught the eye of Gerald Dudley. Only a single
+look, and the fiend was in my heart. I rose; the fainting girl fell
+upon the floor; I hurried from the room, and did not pause until I had
+reached my own chamber, and locked the door. Pressing my hands now
+on my burning temples, now on my breast, I paced the floor, while,
+perchance, fifteen minutes--they seemed an eternity--passed away.
+
+Then I went slowly down stairs, and entered the back parlor. Gerald
+was there, standing near the sofa; his face wearing an insolent scowl
+of triumph. The girl was stretched upon the sofa, still insensible,
+but--I dare not write it--opposite Gerald stood Herman Barnhurst, who
+had followed Fanny to the house, and arrived--too late. His face was
+bloodless.
+
+"Oh, villain!" he groaned, as his maddened gaze was fixed on Dudley;
+"you shall pay for this with your blood--"
+
+"Softly, Reverend Sir! softly! One word of this, and the world shall
+know of your amours with the handsome widow."
+
+Herman's gaze rested on my face--
+
+"You,--know--of--this?" he began, with a look that can never be
+forgotten.
+
+"Pardon, Herman, pardon! I was mad," I shrieked, flinging myself at his
+feet, and clutching his knees.
+
+For a moment he gazed upon me, and then, lifting his clenched right
+hand, he struck me on the forehead, and I fell insensible on the floor.
+The curse, which he spoke as I fell, rings even yet in my ears.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+SUICIDE.
+
+
+Three days have passed since then. Such days as I will never pass
+again! I have just learned that Gerald Dudley has fled the city. His
+purpose to obtain Fanny's hand in marriage by first accomplishing her
+shame, has utterly failed. Her father knows all and is now using every
+engine of his wealth to connect my name with the crime which has damned
+every hope of his idolized child. And he will succeed! I feel it; I
+know it; my presentiment cannot prove false. What shall I do?--whither
+turn?
+
+And Herman is a raving lunatic. This too is my work. Yes, yes, I am
+resolved.--I _am_ resolved. * * * *
+
+To-morrow's dawn will bring disgrace and shame to me; and, in the
+future, I see the crowded court-house--the mob, eager to drink in the
+story of my guilt,--and the felon's cell. But the morrow's dawn I
+shall never see!
+
+I am alone in my chamber--the very chamber in which I became Burley's,
+in an unholy marriage--Walter's, in the marriage of a stainless
+love--Herman's, in the mad embrace of passion. And now, O Death! upon
+that marriage couch, I am about to wed thee!
+
+The brazier stands in the center of the bridal chamber; its contents
+were ignited half an hour ago; every avenue to my chamber is carefully
+closed; already the fumes of the burning charcoal begin to smite my
+temples and my heart.
+
+This record, written from time to time, and now concluded by a hand
+chilled by death, I leave to my only living relative,--not as an
+apology for my crimes, but as an explanation of the causes which led me
+to the brink of this awful abyss.
+
+Air! air! Burley, for thee I have no remorse. Let the branch
+snap!--over the cataract with thy accursed face! Thou wert the cause of
+all--thou! But, Walter, thy last look kills my soul.--Herman, thy curse
+is on me! And poor Fanny! Air! Light! It is so dark--dark!--Oh for one
+breath of prayer!
+
+
+                             CONCLUSION.
+
+
+The preceding confession, signed by the tremulous hand of the poor
+suicide, was found in her room, with the senseless corse, by the
+relative, to whom she addressed it, and who adds these concluding
+pages. For days after the event, the papers were filled with
+paragraphs, in regard to the melancholy affair. A single one extracted
+from a prominent paper, will give some idea of the tone of the public
+mind:
+
+                      _Extract from a New York Paper._
+
+                         "TRAGEDY IN HIGH LIFE.
+
+ "The town is full of rumors, in regard to a mysterious event, or
+ series of events, implicating a member of one of the first families
+ of New York. These rumors are singularly startling, and although they
+ have not yet assumed a definite shape, certainly call for a judicial
+ investigation. As far as we have been able to sift the stories now
+ afloat, the plain truth, reduced to the briefest possible shape,
+ appears to be as follows: Some years since, Miss Marion M----,
+ daughter of old Mr. M----, one of our first merchants, was, while
+ under an engagement of marriage with Walter H----, forced into a
+ marriage with Mr. Issachar B----, a man old enough to be her father,
+ who, it is stated, had the father absolutely in his power. The
+ marriage took place, but not long afterward, B----, while on a visit
+ to Niagara, was precipitated over the Falls, at dead of night, in a
+ manner not yet satisfactorily explained. Soon afterward the young
+ widow, then immensely rich, encountered her former betrothed, and the
+ fashionable world were soon afterward informed of their marriage.
+ A year passed, and Walter H----, the husband of the former widow,
+ was found in a distant part of the country, mysteriously murdered,
+ it was not known by whom, although it was rumored at the time, that
+ the brother of a wronged sister, was on that occasion the avenger
+ of his sister's shame. The beautiful Mrs. H----, was once more a
+ widow. Here it might seem that her adventures, connected so strangely
+ with the death of two husbands, had reached their termination. But
+ it seems she was soon fascinated by the eloquence of a young man
+ and popular divine, Rev. H---- B----. While betrothed to Miss Fanny
+ L----, daughter of a wealthy member of his congregation, the eloquent
+ preacher became a visitor at the house of the rich widow, and finally
+ his affections became entangled, and he was forced to choose between
+ said widow and his betrothed. He sacrificed his affection for the
+ former, to his solemn engagement with the latter. The 'slighted'
+ widow, endured the usual pangs of 'despised love,' coupled with
+ something very much like Italian jealousy, or rather jealousy after
+ the Italian school. The betrothed was inveigled into a certain house,
+ and her honor sacrificed by a gentleman of fashion, known for thirty
+ years as a constant promenader, on the west side of Broadway, Mr.
+ Gerald D----. The widow (strangest freak of a slighted and vindictive
+ woman!) is said to have been the planner and instigator of this crime.
+ We have now arrived at the sequel of the story. Unable to obtain the
+ hand of the Rev. H---- B----, and stung by remorse, for her share in
+ the dishonor of his betrothed, the widow put a period to her own
+ existence, in what manner is not exactly known, although conflicting
+ rumors state the knife, or the poison vial was the instrument of her
+ death. No coroner's inquest took place. The body gave no signs of a
+ violent death. 'Disease of the heart' was stated in the certificate
+ of the physician, (how _compliant_ he was to the wishes of rich
+ survivors, we will not say,) as the cause of her unexpected disease.
+ She was quietly buried in the family vault, and her immense estate
+ descends to a relative, who was especially careful, in cloaking over
+ the fact of the suicide. The tragedy involved in this affair, will be
+ complete, when we inform the reader, that Mr. Gerald D----, has left
+ the city, while his poor victim, Fanny L----, tenants the cell of an
+ asylum for the insane. Altogether, this affair is one of the wildest
+ exaggerations, or one of the most painful tragedies, that ever fell to
+ the lot of the press, to record. Can it be believed that a young lady,
+ honorably reared, would put a period to the lives of two husbands,
+ then procure the dishonor of a rival, who interposed between her and a
+ _third_ 'husband?' Verily, 'fact is stranger than fiction,' and every
+ day, reality more improbable than the wildest dreams of romance. The
+ truth will not be known until the CONFESSION, _said to be left by the
+ young widow, makes its appearance._ But will it appear? we shall see."
+
+So much for the public press.
+
+The reader can contrast its _rumors_, with the _facts_ of the case, as
+plainly set forth in the previous confession, penned by the hand of the
+unfortunate and guilty Marion Merlin.
+
+A few words more will close this painful narrative. Marion was quietly
+and honorably buried. Her relatives were wealthy and powerful. The
+'physician's certificate' enabled them to avoid the painful formality
+of a coroner's inquest. She sleeps beside her husband, Walter Howard,
+in Greenwood Cemetery.
+
+Soon after her decease, Mr. Lansdale sold all his property in New York,
+and with his daughter disappeared completely from public view.
+
+Herman Barnhurst remained in the Lunatic Asylum for more than a year,
+when he was released, his intellect restored, but his health (it is
+stated) irretrievably broken. After his release, he left New York, and
+his name was soon forgotten, or if mentioned at all, only as that of a
+person long since dead.
+
+Gerald Dudley, after various adventures, in Texas and Mexico, suffered
+at the hands of Judge Lynch, near San Antonio.
+
+About a year after the death of Marion Merlin, a young man in moderate
+circumstances, accompanied by his wife, (a pale, faded, though
+interesting woman) and her aged father took up his residence in C----,
+a pleasant village in south-western Pennsylvania. They were secluded in
+their habits, and held but little intercourse with the other villagers.
+The husband passed by the name of Wilton, which (for all that the
+villagers knew to the contrary,) was his real name.
+
+One winter evening, as the family were gathered about the open
+wood-fire, a sleigh halted at the door, and a visitor appeared in the
+person of a middle-aged man, who came unbidden into the room, shaking
+the snow from his great coat, and seating himself in the midst of the
+family. Regarding for a moment the face of the aged father, and then
+the countenance of the young husband and wife, which alike in their
+pallor, seemed to bear the traces of an irrevocable calamity, the
+visitor said quietly,--
+
+"Herman Barnhurst, I am the relative to whom Marion Merlin addressed
+her confession, and whom she invested with the trusteeship of her
+estate."
+
+Had a thunderbolt fallen into the midst of the party, it would not have
+created so much consternation, as these few words from the lips of the
+visitor. The young wife shrieked, the old man started from his chair;
+Herman Barnhurst, (otherwise called Mr. Wilton,) with the blood rushing
+to his pale face, said simply, "That accursed woman!"
+
+"I hold her last Will and Testament in my hand," continued the visitor:
+"I am her nearest relative, and would inherit her estate, but for this
+will, by which she names _you and your wife Fanny, as the sole heirs of
+her immense property_."
+
+Herman took the Will from the visitor's hands.
+
+"As administrator of her estate, I am here to surrender it into your
+hands. The will was made as a small atonement for the injury she caused
+you."
+
+Herman quietly dropped the parchment into the fire:
+
+"Her money and her memory are alike accursed. I will have nothing to do
+with either."
+
+That night the relative turned his face eastward, to take possession of
+the estate of Marion Merlin.
+
+_And beneath this, in a different hand, was added the following
+singular narrative:_
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+AFTER THE DEATH OF MARION.
+
+
+A pleasant place, in summer time, was the country-mansion of the
+celebrated Doctor N----, situated upon the heights of Weehawken, about
+one mile from the Hudson River. A huge edifice of brick, separated
+from the high road by a garden, it was surrounded by tall trees, whose
+branches overhung its steep roof, and relieved by the background of the
+rich foliage and blossoms of the orchard trees. A pleasant place, in
+summer, was the mansion of the celebrated Doctor, but lonely enough,
+and desolate enough in winter. On this drear winter night, it looks sad
+and desolate as the grave. The sky above it is leaden, the trees around
+it are leafless, the garden white with snow, and the bitter wind howls
+dismally over the waste of snow, which clothes the adjacent fields. In
+the distance, the Hudson glitters dimly, white and cold, with fields
+of floating ice. It is near morning, and but a single room in the vast
+country mansion is tenanted. You can see a light trembling faintly
+through the half vailed window yonder; the window near the roof, in the
+southern wing.
+
+It is near morning; but one person by a solitary light, keeps his vigil
+in the deserted mansion; a sleigh drawn by a single horse, (he has been
+driven hard, for there is foam upon his flanks) and moving noiselessly,
+without the sound of bells stops at the garden gate. Two persons, whose
+forms are wrapped in thick overcoats, and whose faces are concealed by
+fur caps, drawn low over the brows, dismount and pass along the garden
+walk, bearing a burden on their shoulders. They ascend the steps of the
+porch, and stand in front of the hall door, looking anxiously about
+them, as if to assure themselves, their movements were not observed.
+
+"So far safe enough,--" exclaims one in a hoarse voice, "the next thing
+is to get _it_ up stairs." And he places a key in the lock of the door.
+
+Meanwhile the light, which trembling outward from yonder window,
+shines redly over the frozen snow, shines within upon the face of
+the lonely watcher. A young man sits beside a table, reading by the
+light of a clouded lamp, his cheeks resting on his hands, and his
+gaze riveted upon the large volume, spread open before him. The light
+falls brightly upon the book, leaving his features in half twilight,
+but still you can trace the outlines of his face,--the enthusiasm of
+his fixed eyes,--the energy of his broad bold forehead. It is a small
+and comfortable apartment; near him a wood-fire is burning, on the
+open hearth; opposite him a sofa, and a range of shelves, filled with
+books, and upon the green cloth of the table by which he is seated, you
+discover a sort of semicircle of open volumes,--placed there evidently
+for reference,--a mass of carelessly strewn manuscripts, and a case of
+surgical instruments.
+
+Arthur Conroy, the favorite student of the celebrated Doctor,--a
+student, whose organization combines the exactness and untiring
+industry of the man of science, with the rich enthusiasm of the
+poet,--is the only tenant of the mansion, during the dreary winter. He
+is not seen during the day, but every night, arriving from New York,
+after dark, he builds his fire, lights his candle, and commences his
+lonely vigil. Sometimes, late at night, he is joined by the grave
+Doctor himself, and they pursue their researches together. What manner
+of researches? We cannot tell; but there is a rumor, that one apartment
+of the huge mansion is used, in winter time, as a Dissecting-Room.
+And the light streaming night after night, from the window near the
+roof, strikes the lonely wayfarer with a sensation, in some manner,
+associated with ghosts, witches, and dealings with the _devil_ in
+general.
+
+Arthur is ambitious; even while his mind is wrapt in the mazes of a
+scientific problem, he thinks of his widowed mother and orphan sisters
+far away in the great village near Seneca lake, and his pulse beats
+quicker, as he looks forward to the day when their ears shall be
+greeted by the tidings of his world-wide fame. For he has determined to
+be a surgeon, and a master in his art; he has the will and the genius;
+he will accomplish what he wills.
+
+He raises his eyes from his book,--they are glittering with the clear
+light of intense thought,--and unconsciously begins to think aloud.
+
+"Do the dead return? Are the dead indeed _dead_? You have nailed down
+the coffin-lid; you have seen the coffin as it sunk into the grave; you
+have heard the rattling of the clod,--but is that all? Is the beloved
+one whom you have given to the grave, indeed _dead_, or only more truly
+living in a new body, formed of refined matter, invisible to our gross
+organs? Is that which we call soul, only the result of a particular
+organization of gross matter, or is it the real, eternal substance of
+which all other matter is but the servant and the expression? Do the
+dead return? Do those whose faces we have seen for the last time, ere
+the coffin-lid closed upon them forever, ever come back to us, clad in
+spiritual bodies, and addressing us, not through our external organs,
+but by directly _impressing_ that _divine substance_ in us, which is
+like unto them,--that which we call our SOUL?"
+
+It was a thought which for ages has made the hearts of the noblest
+and truest of our race, alternately combat with despair, and swell
+with hope,--that thought which seeks to unvail the mystery of Life and
+Death, disclose the tie which connects perishable matter with eternal
+mind, and lift the curtain which hides from the present, the other
+world.
+
+Arthur felt the vast thought gather all his soul into its embrace. But
+his meditations were interrupted by the opening of the door, and the
+two men,--whom we saw dismount from the sleigh,--entered the room of
+the student, bearing in their arms the burden, which was covered by
+folds of coarse canvas.
+
+Very ungainly men they were, with their brawny forms wrapped in huge
+gray overcoats, adorned with white buttons, and their harsh visages
+half concealed by their coarse fur caps. They came into the room
+without a word.
+
+"O, you have come," said Arthur, as if he recognized persons by no
+means strangers to him. "Have you the particular subject which the
+doctor desired you to procure?"
+
+"Jist that partikler subject," said one of the twain,--"an' a devil of
+a time we've had to git it! Fust we entered the vault at Greenwood,
+with a false key, and then opened the coffin, so as it'll never be
+known that it was opened at all. Closed the vault ag'in and got the
+body over the wall, and hid it in the bottom of the sleigh. Crossed the
+ferry at Brooklyn--went through the city, and then took the ferry for
+Hoboken,--same sleigh, and same subject in the bottom of it; an' druv
+here with a blast in our face, sharp as a dozen butcher knives."
+
+"But if it had not a-been for the storm, we wouldn't a-got the body,"
+interrupted the other.
+
+"And here we _air_, and here _it_ is, and that's enough. What shall we
+do with it?"
+
+Arthur opened a small door near the bookcase, and a narrow stairway
+(leading up into the garret) was disclosed.
+
+"You know the way," he said. "When you get up there place _it_ on the
+table."
+
+They obeyed without a word. Bearing their burden slowly through the
+narrow doorway, they disappeared, and the echo of their heavy boots was
+heard on the stairway. They were not long absent. After a few moments
+they again appeared, and the one who had acted as principal spokesman,
+held out his open palm toward Arthur,--
+
+"Double allowance to-night, you know," he said,--"Doctor generally
+gives us from forty to sixty dollars a job, but this partikler case
+axes for ten gold pieces,--spread eagles, you know, wuth ten dollars
+apiece,--only a hundred dollars in all. Shell out!"
+
+Arthur quietly placed ten gold pieces in the hands of the
+ruffian.--"The doctor left it for you. Now go."
+
+And shuffling their heavy boots, they disappeared through the same door
+by which they had entered. Looking through the window after a few
+moments, he saw the sleigh moving noiselessly down the public road.
+
+"Dangerous experiment for the doctor, especially if the _event_ of this
+night should happen to be discovered," ejaculated Arthur, as he rebuilt
+his fire. "A peculiar case of suicide, and he wished _the body_ at all
+hazards. Well! I must to work."
+
+He drew on an apron of dark muslin, which was provided with sleeves,
+and then lifting the shade from the lamp, he lighted a cigar. As the
+smoke of the grateful Havana rolled through his apartment, he took the
+lamp in one hand, and a case of instruments in the other, and ascended
+the secret stairway leading to the garret.
+
+"I have seen her when living, arrayed in all the pride of youth
+and beauty," he said, as the lamp shone upon the vast and gloomy
+garret,--"and now let me look upon the shell which so lately held that
+passionate soul."
+
+It was indeed a vast and gloomy garret. It traversed the entire
+extent of the southern wing. The windows at either end were carefully
+darkened. The ceiling was formed by the huge rafters and bare shingles
+of the steep roof. To one of these rafters a human skeleton was
+suspended, its white bones glaring amid the darkness. In the center was
+a large table, upon which was placed the burden which the ruffians had
+that night stolen from the grave. The place was silent, lonely,--the
+wind howled dismally among the chimneys,--and Arthur could not repress
+a slight shudder as his footsteps echoed from the naked floor. Arthur
+placed the lamp upon the table, and began to uncover the subject.
+Removing the coarse canvas he disclosed the corpse. An ejaculation
+burst from his lips,--a cry half of terror, half of surprise.
+
+The light shone upon the body of a beautiful woman. From those
+faultless limbs and that snowy bosom the grave-clothes had been
+carefully stripped. A single fragment of the shroud fluttered around
+the right arm. Save this fragment the body was completely bare, and
+the dark hair of the dead fell loosely on her shoulders. The face was
+very beautiful and calm, as though sealed only for an hour in a quiet
+sleep,--the fringes of the eyelashes rested darkly upon the cheeks.
+Never had the light shone upon a shape of more surpassing loveliness,
+upon limbs more like ivory in their snowy whiteness, upon a face more
+like a dreamless slumber, in its calm, beautiful expression. Dead, and
+yet very beautiful! A proud soul dwelt in this casket once,--the soul
+has fled, and now the casket must be surrendered to the scalpel,--must
+be cut and rent, shred by shred, by the dissector's hand.
+
+"But the limbs are not rigid with death," soliloquized Arthur,--"Decay
+has not yet commenced its work. As I live, there is a glow upon the
+cheek."
+
+With his scalpel he inflicted a gash near the right temple, and at the
+same instant--imagining he heard a footstep,--he turned his face over
+his shoulder. It was only imagination, and he turned again to trace the
+result of the incision.
+
+The dead woman was in a sitting posture, her eyes were wide open, she
+was gazing calmly into his face. Arthur fell back with a cry of horror.
+
+"Nay, do not be frightened," said a low, although tremulous voice,--"I
+have simply been the victim of an attack of catalepsy."
+
+And while he stood spell-bound, his eyes riveted to her face, and his
+ears drinking in the rich music of her voice, she continued,--
+
+"Catalepsy, which leaves the soul keenly conscious and in possession
+of all its powers, but without the slightest control over the body,
+which appears insensible and dead. The agony of that state is beyond
+all power of words! To hear the voices which speak over your coffin,
+and yet be unable to frame a word, to breathe even a sigh! I heard them
+talk over my coffin,--I was conscious as the lid closed down upon my
+face,--conscious when they placed me in the vault, and locked the door,
+and left me there buried alive. And an eternity seemed to pass from the
+time when they locked the door, (I was only buried yesterday,) until
+your men came to-night, to rob the grave of its prey. I heard every
+word they uttered from the moment when they tore the shroud from my
+bosom, until they entered your room, and then I heard your voice. And
+when they left me here, I heard your step upon the stair, heard your
+ejaculation as you bent over me, and it seemed to me that my soul made
+its last effort to arouse from this unutterable _living death_, as you
+struck the knife into my temple. You have saved my life----"
+
+Arthur could not utter a word; he could not believe the scene to be
+real; he thought himself the victim of a terrible although bewitching
+dream.
+
+"I arise from the grave, but it is to begin life anew. The name which I
+bore lies buried in the grave vault. It is with a new name, and under
+new auspices, that I will recommence life. And as for you, I know you
+to be young, gifted, ambitious. I will show my gratitude by making your
+fortune. But you must swear, and now, never to reveal the secret of
+this night!"
+
+"I swear it," ejaculated Arthur, still pale and trembling.
+
+"What, are you still afraid of me? Come near me,--nearer,--take my
+hand,--does that,--" and a bewitching smile crossed her face,--"does
+that feel like the hand of a dead woman?"
+
+With these words the history of Marion came to a pause.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For the first time, Arthur Dermoyne raised his eyes from the pages
+which recorded the life of Marion Merlin. For an hour and more he had
+bent over those pages in profound and absorbing interest.
+
+"Here, then, is the real secret of the life of Herman Barnhurst!" he
+ejaculated. "He was simply a sincere enthusiast, all his bad nature
+dormant, and all his good in active life, until this woman crossed his
+path. And the wife who now slumbers by his side, is none other than
+Fanny Lansdale, the victim of the unutterable crime. Who shall say
+that we are not, in a great measure, the sport of circumstance? How
+different would have been the life of Herman, had Marion never crossed
+his path?"
+
+Something like pity for the crimes of Barnhurst began to steal over
+Dermoyne's face, as he sat thus alone, in the solitude of the last
+hour of the night; but the thoughts of Alice, on her bed of shame and
+anguish, started up like a phantom and drove every throb of compassion
+from his soul.
+
+"If Alice dies, there is but one way,"--he said moodily, with a fixed
+light in his eyes.--"But this Marion,--ah! Something more of her
+history is written here. Let me read,--" Once more he bent over the
+Red Book. Even as his eyes were fixed upon the page, a shadow was cast
+over it, and then a dark object interposed between him and the light;
+and the next moment all was darkness. But on the instant, before the
+darkness came, he looked up, and saw before him a brawny form, a face
+stamped with ferocious brutality; an upraised hand grasping a knife,
+which glittered as it rose. This he saw for an instant only, and then
+all was blackness.
+
+"Not wid de knife, Dirk! Let me fix him wid dis,--and do yer see to de
+Red Book!"
+
+There was a sound as of a weapon whizzing through the air, and Dermoyne
+was felled to the floor by a blow from the "Slung-shot."
+
+As the first gleam of morning stole into the bed-chamber, touching,
+with rosy light, the faces of the sleeping wife and her children,
+Barnhurst stealthily arose, dressed himself, and stole on tiptoe
+from the place. In the dark he descended the stairway, and all the
+while,--from loss of sleep, combined with the excitement of the past
+night,--he shook in every nerve. His thoughts were black and desperate.
+
+"Ruin wherever I turn! If I escape this man, there remains the villain
+whom I met last night, in Trinity Church. On one side exposure, on the
+other death. What can be done? Cut the matter short, and renouncing
+all my prospects, seek safety in flight? or remain,--dare all the
+chances,--exposure,--the death of a dog,--all,--and trust to my good
+fortune?"
+
+He paused at the foot of the stairway, and a hope shot through his
+heart,--"If I could see GODIVA all might yet be well! Yes, I must, I
+will see GODIVA."
+
+Uttering the name of GODIVA, (new to the reader and to our history,) he
+approached the parlor door. "Now for this man!" he said, and shuddered.
+He opened the door, and looked around; the first rays of morning
+were stealing through the window-curtains, but the room was vacant.
+Dermoyne was not there. The carpet was torn near the sofa, the table
+overturned, and there was blood upon the carpet and sofa. But Dermoyne
+had disappeared.
+
+
+
+
+PART SIXTH.
+
+DAY, SUNSET, NIGHT.
+
+DECEMBER 24, 1844.
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+ARRAYED FOR THE BRIDAL.
+
+
+It was toward evening, when, amid the crowd of Broadway--that crowd
+of mad and impetuous life--there glided, like a specter through the
+mazes of a voluptuous dance, a man of sober habit, pallid face, and
+downcast eyes. Beautiful women, wrapped in soft attire, passed him
+every moment; brushed him with their perfumed garments; but he heeded
+them not. There was the free laugh, the buzz of voices, and the tramp
+of footsteps all about him, but he did not raise his eyes, nor bend
+his ear. Gliding along in his dark habit, he was as much alone on that
+thronged pathway, as though he walked the sands of an Arabian desert. A
+man of hollow cheeks, features boldly marked, and eyes large and dark,
+and shining with the fire of disease, or with the restlessness of a
+soul that had turned upon itself, and was gnawing ever and ever at its
+own life-strings.
+
+His habit--a long black coat, single breasted, and with a plain white
+band about the neck--indicated that he was a Catholic Priest.
+
+He was a Priest. Struck down in his early manhood by an irreparable
+calamity, he had looked all around the horizon of his life for--peace.
+Repose, repose--a quiet life--an obscure grave--became the objects of
+his soul's desire, instead of the ambitions which his young manhood had
+cherished.
+
+As there was not peace within him, so he searched the world for it, and
+in vain.
+
+He sought it in a money-bound Protestant church, behind whose
+pulpit-bible--like a toad upon an altar--Mammon, holy mammon, squats
+in bank-note grandeur. And there, he found money, and much cant, and
+abundance of sect,--but no peace.
+
+To the Catholic church he turned. Won by the poetry of that church--we
+use the word in its awful and intense sense, for poetry and religion
+are one--and, forgetful of the infernal deeds which demoniacs, in
+purple and scarlet, have done in the name of that church, tracking
+their footsteps over half the globe in blood, and lighting up the
+history of ten centuries, at least, with flames of persecution,--won by
+all that is good and true in that church, (which he forgot is good and
+true under whatsoever form it occurs,)--he sought repose in its bosom.
+
+Did he find it? He found good and true men among priests and people; he
+found noble and pure women, in the valleys of the church; but, lifting
+his eyes to her lofty eminence, he too often saw purpled and mitred
+atheists, who, from their thrones, made sport of human misery, and
+converted Christ the Savior into the _Fetish_ of a brutal superstition.
+
+He had been to Rome; in Rome he saw the seamless coat of Christ made a
+cloak for every outrage that can be inflicted upon the human race.
+
+Did he find peace? Yes, when vailing his eyes from the atrocities done
+in the name of the church, turning himself away from the scarlet-clad
+atheists, who too often mount her seats of power, he retreated within
+himself, opened the gospels, and from their pages saw kindle into life
+and love, the face of Him, whom priests may misinterpret or defame, but
+whose name forever to suffering humanity, is "CONSOLATION."
+
+As he passed thus along Broadway, buried in his thoughts, and utterly
+unconscious of the scene around him, he felt a hand press his own.
+He awoke from his thoughts, stopped and looked around him. The crowd
+was hurrying by, but the person who pressed his hand had disappeared.
+Was that pressure of the hand a mere freak of the imagination? No;
+for the hand of the unknown had left within the hand of the Priest a
+neatly-folded letter, upon which, in a fair and delicate hand, was
+written his own name.
+
+Stepping aside from the crowd, he opened and read the letter. It was
+very brief, but its contents called a glow to the pale cheek of the
+Priest.
+
+He at once retraced his steps, and passed down Broadway, with a
+rapid and eager step. Hurrying through the gay crowd, he turned, in
+a few moments, into a street leading to the North River. The sun was
+setting, and cast the shadow of his slender form long and black over
+the pavement, as he paused in front of a stately mansion. He once more
+examined the letter, and then surveyed the mansion.
+
+"It is the same," he said, and ascended the lofty steps and rang the
+bell. "Truly, the office of a Priest is a painful one," the thought
+crossed his mind; "he sees so much misery that he has not the power to
+relieve. Misery, under the rags of the hovel, and despair under the
+velvet of the palace."
+
+A male servant, in livery, answered the bell, and glanced somewhat
+superciliously at the faded attire of the Priest. But he inclined his
+head in involuntary respect, as the Priest said, simply--
+
+"I am Father Luke,--"
+
+"This way, sir. You are expected," answered the servant; and he led
+Father Luke along a lofty hall, and into a parlor, over whose rich
+furniture shone dimly the light of the setting sun. "Remain here, sir,
+and I will announce your coming."
+
+He left the Priest alone. Father Luke placed his hat upon a table,
+and seated himself in a chair. In a moment, resting his cheek upon
+his hand, and turning his eyes to the light, (which shone through
+the curtained window,) he was buried in thought again. His singular
+and remarkable face stood forth from the back-ground of shadow like
+a portrait of another age. His crown was bald, but his forehead was
+encircled by dark hair, streaked with silver. As the light shone over
+that broad brow, and upon the great eyes, dilating in their sunken
+sockets, he seemed not like a practical man of the nineteenth century,
+but like one of those penitents or enthusiasts, who, in a dark age,
+shut up the fires of their agony, of trampled hope or undying remorse,
+within the shadows of a cloister.
+
+"This way, sir,"--it was the voice of the servant, who touched him
+respectfully on the shoulder as he spoke.
+
+Father Luke arose and followed him from the room, and up a broad
+stairway, and along a corridor: "At the end of this passage you will
+find a door. Open it and enter. You are expected there."
+
+Passing from the corridor, lighted by the window at its extremity, the
+Priest entered a narrow passage where all was dark, and pursued his way
+until his progress was terminated by a door. He opened the door and
+crossed the threshold--but, upon the very threshold, stood spell-bound
+in surprise.
+
+It was a large apartment, with lofty walls, and, instead of the
+cheerful rays of the declining sun, it was illuminated by a lamp with
+a clouded shade, which, suspended from the center of the ceiling, shed
+around a soft and mysterious light.
+
+The walls were not papered nor panneled, but covered with hangings
+of a dark color. One part of the spacious chamber was occupied by a
+couch with a high canopy, and curtains whose snowy whiteness stood out
+distinctly from the dark back-ground. A wood fire was burning under the
+arch of the old-fashioned fire-place; and a mirror, in a frame of dark
+walnut, reflected the couch with its white canopy, and a table covered
+with a white cloth, which stood directly underneath the hanging lamp.
+Upon the white cloth was placed a crucifix, a book, a wreath of flowers.
+
+The place was perfectly still, and the soft rays of the lamp, investing
+all its details with mingled light and shadow, gave an atmosphere of
+mystery to the scene.
+
+Father Luke stood on the threshold, hesitating whether to advance or
+retreat, when a low voice broke the stillness:
+
+"Come in, sir. I have waited for you."
+
+And for the first time Father Luke took notice of the presence of the
+speaker. It was a woman, who, attired in black, sat in a rocking-chair,
+near the table, her hands folded over her breast. Her head and
+face were covered by a thick vail of white lace, which fell to her
+shoulders, contrasting strongly with her somber attire.
+
+Father Luke entered and seated himself in a vacant chair, which stood
+near the table. Resting his arm on the table,--(he sat directly beneath
+the lamp, in a circle of shadow,)--and shading his eyes with his hand,
+he silently surveyed the woman, over whom the light fell in full
+radiance. There was dark hair, there were bright eyes, beneath that
+vail of lace; a young, a richly moulded form, beneath that garb of
+sable; but in vain he endeavored to trace the features of the unknown.
+
+"You received a letter?" said the lady, in a low voice.
+
+"As I was passing up Broadway, a few moments since, a letter was placed
+in my hand, bidding my presence at this house, on an errand of life and
+death."
+
+She started at the sound of that sonorous and hollow voice, and,
+through her vail, seemed to survey him earnestly.
+
+"I am glad that you have come. I thank you with all my soul. Although
+not a member of your church, I have heard of you for a long time, and
+heard of you as one who, having suffered much himself, was especially
+fitted to render consolation to the heart-broken and despair-stricken.
+Now I am heart-broken and despairing,"--she paused,--"I am dying,--"
+
+"Dying?" he echoed.
+
+"And have sent for you, believing you to be an honest man, not to hear
+confession of my sins, for they are too dark to be told or be forgiven.
+But to ask you a simple question, which I implore you to answer, not
+as a priest, but as a man;--to answer, not with the set phrases of
+your vocation, but frankly and fully, even as you wish to have peace
+yourself in the hour of death."
+
+"And that question,--" the priest's head bent low upon his breast, and
+he surveyed her earnestly with his eyes hidden beneath his down-drawn
+brows.
+
+"Do you believe in any Hereafter? Do you believe in another world? Does
+the death of the body end the story? Or, after the death of the body,
+does the soul rise and live again in a new and diviner life?"
+
+"My sister," said the priest, with much emotion, "I _know_ that there
+is a hereafter,--I _know_ that the death of the body, is not the end of
+all, but simply the first step in an eternal pilgrimage--"
+
+"This you say as a man, and not as a priest,--this is your true
+thought, as you wish to have peace, in the hour of your death?"
+
+"Even so," said Father Luke.
+
+"Thank you, O, bless you with all my soul. One question more,--O,
+answer me with the same frankness.--In the next world shall we meet,
+and know the friends whom we have loved in this?"
+
+"We shall meet, we shall know, we shall love them in the next world, as
+certainly as we ever met, knew and loved them in this," was the answer
+of Father Luke, given with all the force and earnestness of undeniable
+sincerity. "Do you think we gather affections to our heart, only to
+bury them in the grave?"
+
+The lady rose from her chair,--
+
+"I thank you, once more, and with all my soul. Your words come from
+your heart. They confirm the intuitions of my own heart. For the
+consolation which these words afford, accept the gratitude of a dying
+woman. And now,--" she extended her hand, "and now farewell!"
+
+The priest, who, through this entire interview, had never ceased
+to regard her, with his eyes almost hidden by his down-drawn
+brows,--struggling all the while to repress an agitation which
+increased every moment, and well nigh mastered him,--the priest also
+rose with these words on his lips:
+
+"You dying, sister! you seem young, and full of life, and with the
+prospect of long years before you."
+
+It was either the impulse of madness, or the force of a calm
+conviction, which induced her to reply:
+
+"In one hour I will be dead."
+
+The priest silently took her offered hand, and at the same instant,
+emerged from the circle of shadow, into the full glow of the light.
+There was something like magic in the pressure of their hands.
+
+And the woman lifted her vail, disclosing a beautiful face, which
+already touched with the pallor of death, was lighted by dark eyes,
+whose brightness was almost supernatural.
+
+Lifting her gaze heaven-ward, she said, as though thinking aloud,--
+
+"In another world, Ernest, I will meet, I will know, I will love you!"
+
+But ere the words had passed her lips,--yes, as the slowly lifted vail
+disclosed her face,--the priest sank back, as though stricken by a blow
+from an iron hand, uttering a wild and incoherent cry,--sank back as
+though the grave had yielded up its dead, and confronted him with a
+form, linked with holy and yet accursed memories.
+
+"O, Frank, is it thus we meet," he cried, and fell on his knees, and
+buried his face in his hands.
+
+The sound of his voice, at once lifted the scales from her eyes,--she
+knew him,--the vague consciousness of his presence, which had agitated
+her for the past few moments, became certainty. She knew that in Father
+Luke, who knelt before her, she beheld Ernest Walworth, her plighted
+husband. Sad and terrible indeed, must have been the change, which had
+fallen upon his countenance, that she did not know him, when he sat
+before her in the shadow!
+
+Trembling in every nerve, and yet strong with the energy of a soul,
+that had taken its farewell of this life, she gave utterance to her
+feelings, in a single word,--his own,--pronounced in the soft low tones
+of other days.
+
+"Ernest!"
+
+"O, Frank, Frank, is it thus we meet!" he cried in wild agony, as he
+raised his face. "You,--you,--the only woman that I ever loved,--you,
+whose very memory has torn my heart, since that fatal hour, when I met
+you in the accursed haunt of death,--"
+
+"Ernest you will sit by me as I die, you will press your hand in
+forgiveness on my forehead, my last look shall encounter yours--"
+
+She opened her dark robe, and disclosed the snow-white dress which she
+wore beneath it. That dress was a shroud. Yes, the beautiful form, the
+bosom which had once been the home of a pure and stainless love, and
+which had beat with the throb of sensual passion, were now attired in a
+shroud.
+
+"Behold me, attired for the grave," she said,--and the tears started
+to her eyes,--"This morning, resolved to quit this life, which for
+me, has been a life of unutterable shame and despair, I prepared
+for my departure. Everything is ready. Come, Ernest, and behold the
+preparations for my bridal,--" she pointed to the couch; he rose and
+followed her. "I am in love with death, and will wed him ere an hour
+is gone." She drew aside the curtains, and upon the white coverlet,
+Ernest beheld a dark object,--a coffin covered with black cloth, and
+glittering with a silver plate.
+
+"Everything is ready, Ernest, and I am going. Nay, do not weep, do not
+attempt to touch my hand. I am but a poor polluted thing,--a wreck, a
+miserable, miserable wreck! My touch would pollute you,--I am not worth
+your tears."
+
+Ernest hid his face in the hangings of the couch,--he writhed in agony.
+
+"You shall not die,--you must be saved!" he wildly exclaimed.
+
+She walked across the floor, with an even step; in a moment she was
+seated in the rocking-chair, with Ernest before her, his face hidden
+in his hands. Her face grew paler every moment; her eyes brighter; and
+the shroud which enveloped her bosom, began to quiver, with the last
+pulsations of her dying heart. As the vail mingled its fleecy folds
+with her raven hair, she looked very beautiful, yes, beautiful with the
+touch of death.
+
+And as Ernest, choked with his agony, sat before her, hiding his face,
+she talked in a calm, even tone,--
+
+"O, life! life! you have been a bitter draught to me, and now I am
+about to leave you! All day I have been thinking of my shame, of
+my crimes,--I have summoned up every act of my life,--the images
+of the past have walked before me in a sad funeral procession. O,
+Thou, who didst forgive the Magdalene,--Thou who hadst compassion on
+the poor wretch, whose cross arose beside thine own,--Thou who dost
+know all my life, my temptations, and my crimes,--forgive! forgive!
+It is a wandering child, sick of wandering, who now,--O, Thou,
+all-merciful!--gathers up the wreck of a miserable life, and lays it,
+with all its sins and shame, at Thy feet."
+
+As she uttered this simple, yet awful prayer, Ernest did not raise his
+face. The agony which shook him was too deep for words.
+
+Her voice grew faint and fainter, as she went on, in a vague and
+rambling way--
+
+"And I was so innocent once, and did not know what sorrow was, and
+felt such gladness, at the sight of the sky, of the stars, of the
+flowers,--at the very breath of spring upon my cheek! O, I wonder if
+the old home stands there yet,--and the nook in the forest, don't
+you remember, Ernest? I was so happy, so happy then! And now I am
+dying--dying,--but you are near. You forgive me, Ernest, do you not?"
+
+"Forgive you!" he echoed, raising his face, and spreading forth his
+clasped hands, "God's blessing and His consolation be upon you now
+and forever! And His curse,--" a look of hatred, which stamped every
+lineament of his face, revealed the intensity of his soul,--"and His
+curse be upon those, who brought you to this!"
+
+As he spoke, the death damps began to glisten on her forehead; a glassy
+look began to vail the intense brightness of her eyes.
+
+"Your hand, sit by me,--" she said faintly, "I shall sleep soon."
+
+He drew his chair to her side, and softly put his hand upon her
+forehead,--it was cold as marble.
+
+"It is good to go thus,--with Ernest by me,--and in token of
+forgiveness too, with his hand upon my forehead--"
+
+Her words were interrupted by a footstep and a voice.
+
+"Frank! Frank! where are you! I have triumphed!--triumphed! The one
+child is out of my way, and the other is in my power!"
+
+It was Colonel Tarleton, who rushed to the light, his face lividly
+pale, and disfigured by wounds, his right arm carried in a sling. He
+had not seen his daughter since the hour when he left the Temple,
+before the break of day. And now, faint with loss of blood, and
+yet strong in the consciousness of his triumph, he rushed into the
+death-room of his child.
+
+"I have had a hard time, Frank, but the game is won! The estate is
+ours! The other son of Gulian Van Huyden is in my power,--"
+
+The words died on his lips. He beheld the dark form of the stranger,
+and the face of his dying child. The young form clad in a shroud; the
+countenance pale with death; the large eyes, whose brightness was
+vailed in a glassy film,--he saw this sad picture at a glance, but
+could not believe the evidence of his senses.
+
+"Why, Frank, what's all this?" he cried, as with his pale face, marked
+by wounds, he stood before his daughter.
+
+She slowly raised her eyes, and regarded him with a sad smile.
+
+"The poison, father,--I drank it myself; _he_ went forth from this
+house safe from all harm--"
+
+Her voice failed.
+
+Tarleton uttered a frightful cry, and fell like a dead man on the
+floor, his face against the carpet. The reality of the scene had burst
+upon him; in the hour of his triumph he saw his schemes,--the plans
+woven through the long course of twenty-one years and darkened by
+hideous crimes,--leveled in a moment to the dust.
+
+Frank slowly turned her head, and fixed her glassy eyes upon the face
+of Ernest,--O, the intensity of that long and yearning gaze!
+
+"I am weary and cold," she gasped, "but it is light yonder."
+
+And that was all. Her eyes became fixed,--she laid her head gently on
+her shoulder, and fell asleep.
+
+She was dead!
+
+Ernest knelt beside her, and with his eyes flashing from their sunken
+sockets, he clasped his hands and uttered a prayer for the dead.
+
+There were footsteps in the passage and presently into the death-room
+came Mary Berman and Nameless, their faces stamped with the same look
+in which hope and terror mingled. Nameless bore the last letter of
+Frank in his hand; it had hurried him and Mary from the corpse of the
+artist to the home of Frank, and they arrived only in time to behold
+her dead.
+
+"She died to save my life!" said Nameless solemnly, as he surveyed
+that face which looked so beautiful in death. That there were strong
+emotions tugging at his heart,--emotions such as are not felt twice in
+a lifetime,--need not be told.
+
+And Mary, with tears upon her pure and beautiful face, stole silently
+to the side of the dead woman, and smoothed her dark hair, and put her
+kiss upon her clammy forehead, and closed those eyes which had looked
+their last upon this world.
+
+The prayer was said, and Ernest, resting his hands upon the arm of the
+chair in which the dead woman sat, hid once more his face from the
+light, and surrendered himself to the full sway of his agony.
+
+A voice broke the dead stillness, and a livid face was uplifted from
+the floor.
+
+"It's an infernal dream, Frank. You could not have been so foolish! The
+estate is ours,--ours,--"
+
+He saw at the same glance the face of Nameless and the face of his dead
+child.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Here let us return for a moment to Maryvale, the old mansion in the
+country, to which, this morning before break of day, the UNKNOWN,
+(in whom you doubtless recognize Gaspar Manuel, or the Legate,) had
+conducted the boy, Gulian, the private secretary of Evelyn Somers, Sr.
+
+The contest between Tarleton and the dog Cain, in the presence of young
+Gulian, will be remembered; as well as the fact, that even as Tarleton,
+suffering from his wounds, attempted to bear Gulian from the house, he
+fell insensible at his victim's feet.
+
+An hour afterward, when the light of day shone on the old mansion,
+the Legate returned and eagerly sought the chamber of young Gulian.
+The floor was stained with blood, the dead body of Cain was stretched
+at his feet, but the boy had disappeared. The Legate was a man, who,
+through the course of long years had learned to restrain all external
+signs of emotion, but when he became conscious that young Gulian was
+gone,--he knew not whither,--his agitation broke forth in the wildest
+expressions of despair.
+
+"But I will again rescue him from his persecutor. Yes, before the day
+is over, he will be safe under my protection."
+
+And himself and his numerous agents sought the city through all day
+long; and sought in vain.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+HERMAN AND GODIVA.
+
+
+Our history now returns to Madam Resimer, whom we left in her most
+secret chamber, near ten o'clock, on the 24th of December, listening to
+the sound of the bell, which resounded through her mansion.
+
+It was the bell of the secret passage.
+
+"Who can it be?" again ejaculated the Madam, as she stood in the center
+of the room, with the light of the candle on one side of her florid
+face.
+
+To which Corkins, who stood behind her, his slender form lost in her
+capacious shadow, responded in a quivering voice, "Who _can_ it be?"
+
+Much troubled and very angry, and not knowing upon whom to vent her
+anger, the Madam turned upon her trembling satellite, and addressing
+him by numerous titles, not one of which but was more vigorous than
+elegant or complimentary, she bade him,--
+
+"Run for your life. Answer the hell of the secret passage! Don't be
+foolin' away your time, when the very devil's to pay and no pitch hot.
+Cut!"
+
+Corkins accordingly "_cut_," or, to speak in a less classical phrase,
+he glided from the room.
+
+How anxiously the Madam waited there, in her most secret chamber, with
+her finger to her lip, and the candle-light on one side of her face!
+
+"Who can it be? Only four persons in the world know of this secret
+passage. It can't be this devil from Philadelphia? O, I shall do
+somebody a mischief! I can't endure this any longer,--"
+
+Hark! There are footsteps in the corridor; they approach the Madam's
+room. She fixes her small black eyes upon the door, with the intensity
+of a--cat, contemplating a rat-hole.
+
+"This way," cries the voice of Corkins, and he enters the room,
+followed by two persons, one of whom is taller than the other, and both
+of whom wear caps and cloaks.
+
+"Has _he_ come back?" cries the taller of the two, in a voice that
+trembles with anxiety and fear,--he lifts his cap, and discloses the
+face of Herman Barnhurst.
+
+"No,--no,--I haven't laid eyes upon him since last night," and she
+clutched Barnhurst by the arm,--"Where did you leave him?"
+
+"He went home with me," replied Barnhurst, and stopped to gaze around
+that room, dimly lighted by a single candle, as though he was afraid
+that Dermoyne was concealed in its shadows.--"I left him in the parlor
+down stairs. He was determined to wait for me until morning, and then
+come with me to this house. But this morning, when I came down stairs,
+he was not there."
+
+"He was not there?" echoed the Madam, breathless with impatience.
+
+"He wasn't there; there was blood upon the sofa and the carpet, and
+marks of a struggle."
+
+The Madam uttered a round oath and a cry of joy.
+
+"Good,--capital! My boys have done their work. You see, Herman, I sent
+Dirk and Slung after him, and they've laid him out. It's a sure thing."
+
+Herman, even in his fright, could not but help shuddering, as he heard
+the cool manner in which she spoke of Dermoyne's death. The next
+instant the idea of his own safety rose uppermost in his mind.
+
+"Do you think that your fellows have taken good care of him?" he asked.
+
+"Don't doubt it,--don't doubt it," and she rubbed her hands joyfully
+together. "It's a sure thing!"
+
+A raven-like voice, behind her, echoed, "Sure thing!" It was Corkins,
+of course.
+
+"And _she_,--how is _she_?"--Herman lowered his voice, and pointed
+upward.
+
+"She is well!" was the emphatic response of the Madam,--"But how did
+you know of the secret bell? Only four persons in the world know of it,
+and you are not one of them."
+
+Herman pointed to the person who had entered with him, and who now
+stood in the darkness at his back,--"Godiva!" he said.
+
+The Madam gave a start, echoing "Godiva," and Corkins, behind the
+Madam, as in duty bound, re-echoed "Godiva!"
+
+The person called by this name,--the name of the beautiful lady, famed
+in ancient story, for the sacrifice which she made of her modesty in
+order to achieve a noble purpose,--advanced from the shadows into
+the light, saying, "This boy came to me this morning, in a world of
+trouble; he confided all his sorrows to me. It appears he is in a devil
+of a scrape. I came here to get him out of it."
+
+And removing cap and cloak, Godiva stood disclosed in the candle-light.
+Godiva was a woman of some twenty-five years, with a rounded form,
+brown complexion, large eyes that were hazel in the sun, and black by
+night; and Godiva wore her raven hair in rich masses on either side
+of her warm, tropical face. Godiva was dressed, not in those flowing
+garments which give such bewitching mystery to the form of a lovely
+woman, but, in male costume from head to foot,--a shirt, with open
+collar, dark satin vest, blue frock-coat, black pantaloons, and boots
+of patent leather. Although looking short in stature beside the tall
+Barnhurst, she was tall for a woman, and her male costume, which did
+full justice to her throat, her ample bust, and rounded limbs, became
+her exceedingly.
+
+With her cloak on her right arm, her cap in her right hand, she rested
+her left hand on her hip, and looked in the face of the Madam with an
+air of insolent condescension that was quite refreshing.
+
+"How _do_ you _do_, my dear child?"--and the Madam offered her hand.
+Godiva waved her back.
+
+"Don't be impertinent, woman," was the response. "The few days that
+I once passed in your house, by no means give you the right to be
+familiar. I am here, simply, for two reasons,--I wish, in the first
+place, to get the boy (she pointed to Barnhurst,) out of his 'scrape;'
+and, in the second place, to recover a certain manuscript which, it
+seems, I left in this house when I was here."
+
+The Madam was an essentially vulgar, as well as wicked woman, but she
+could not help feeling the cutting insolence which marked the tone of
+the queenly Godiva.
+
+"There is no _sich_ manuscript here," she said, tartly, and her
+thoughts reverted to the Red Book.
+
+"Hadn't you better wait to know what kind of manuscript it was, before
+making such a flat denial?" coolly responded Godiva. "But now let's
+talk of this boy! What's the amount of his entanglements? How's the
+girl?"
+
+"She is well," said the Madam, emphatically.
+
+"Well!" croaked Corkins from the background.
+
+"And this fellow from Philadelphia--was he really such a desperate
+creature?" asked Godiva.
+
+"A devil incarnate," replied the Madam.
+
+"What's that?" cried Herman, with a start, as the sound of a hell once
+more rang through the mansion.
+
+"It's the bell of the door in the alley. Run, Corkins! It's Dirk and
+Slung. Bring 'em up,--'put', I say!"
+
+Corkins "put," and the party waited for his return in evident
+anxiety. It was not long before there was the tramp of heavy steps in
+the passage, and two men, roughly clad--one, short, thick-set, and
+bow-legged, the other, tall and bony--stumbled into the room, bringing
+with them the perfume of very bad liquor.
+
+"Where's de ole woman?" cried Dirk; "What in de thunder de yer have
+candles a-burnin' in daylight for--s-a-y?"
+
+"Ole lady, I'll finger dat pewter--I will," said Slung-shot. "We laid
+yer man out--we did. Dat cool hundred, ef yer please."
+
+And while Herman and Godiva glided into the shadows, the two ruffians
+recounted the incidents of the night, in their peculiar _patois_; the
+Madam interrupting them with questions, at every step of the narrative.
+
+The story of these savages of city life, (and we believe that only the
+English and American cities produce such ruffians in a perfect state
+of brute-and-devil completeness,) reduced to the briefest compass, and
+stripped of all its oaths, read thus:--They had followed Dermoyne and
+Barnhurst all night long. Entering the house of Barnhurst, (the door
+had been left ajar,) they had found Dermoyne seated on the sofa, his
+eyes fixed upon a book. As one struck him with the slung-shot, the
+other extinguished the light, and a brief but terrible contest took
+place in the dark. Finally, they had borne the insensible form of
+Dermoyne from the house, and flung him into the gutter of a dark and
+deserted street.
+
+"An' dere he'd freeze to death, ef he gets over de dirk and de
+slung-shot--he would," added the thick-set ruffian.
+
+"And where have you been ever since?" asked the Madam, whose little
+eyes sparkled with joy.
+
+"Gittin' drunk," tersely remarked Dirk.
+
+"The book--you have it?" she said eagerly.
+
+To which Dirk replied, in his own way, that if he had, he hoped his
+eyes and liver might be made uncomfortable for an indefinite length of
+time.
+
+"Fact is, it slid under de sofar in de muss, an' I couldn't' find it in
+de dark."
+
+The Madam burst into a transport of fury, and in her rage administered
+the back of her hand somewhat freely to the faces of Dirk and Slung.
+"Out of my sight--out of my sight! Fools! Devils! That book was all
+that I sent you after!" and she fairly drove them from the room. They
+were heard shuffling in the passage, and murmuring and cursing as they
+went down stairs.
+
+"The miserable knaves! What trust can you put in human natur' arter
+this!" and she fretted and fumed along the room.
+
+"The book is safe in my house," said Barnhurst, advancing, his face
+glowing with satisfaction. "This fellow, it appears, is safe. I pledge
+my word to have that book in this room before an hour."
+
+Godiva, looking over his shoulder, muttered in atone inaudible to the
+others: "And my manuscript is in the book, and I pledge my word to have
+that within an hour."
+
+"If you do that, Herman, I'll sell my soul for you!" cried the Madam,
+warmly.
+
+"Suppose we look at the--_the patient_," whispered Herman.
+
+"Up-stairs in the same room;" and Herman and Godiva left her room
+together, and directed their steps toward the chamber of Alice.
+
+"The book is safe; he'll keep his word--don't you think so, Corkins?"
+said the Madam, as she found herself once more alone with her familiar
+spirit.
+
+"Safe--perfectly," returned Corkins, when his words were interrupted
+by the ring of a bell. It was the front door bell this time. Corkins
+hurried from the room, and in a few moments returned, and placed a card
+in the hands of the Madam:
+
+"This person wants to see you."
+
+Drawing near the candle, the Madam read upon the card this name--"DR.
+ARTHUR CONROY." A name, you will remember, associated with the history
+of Marion Merlin. It was Arthur Conroy, who, in the dissecting room,
+saw the corpse before him start suddenly into life.
+
+"Dr. Conroy!"--it seemed a familiar name to the Madam. "I wonder if he
+wants a subject? Show him up, Corkins."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Through the bowed window-shutters and the drawn curtains, the winter
+sunlight stole into the chamber of Alice, lighting up the bed, and
+touching with a few golden rays the face of the Virgin Mary on the wall.
+
+Herman and Godiva stood by the bed, their backs toward the window,
+and their faces from the light. They did not speak. The room was
+breathlessly still.
+
+Alice was there, resting on the bed, the coverlet drawn up to her neck,
+and her cheek pressed against the pillow, thus turning her face to the
+light. One hand and arm lay motionless on the coverlet, and her sunny
+hair strayed in unbound luxuriance over the pillow. Her eyes were
+closed; her lips slightly parted; her cheek pale as the pillow on which
+she slept: for she was sleeping. A bright ray, that found entrance
+through an aperture in the curtains, was playing over her face, now on
+her lips, now on her throat, and among the waves of her silken hair.
+The sight was so beautiful that Godiva, whose heart had long since
+ceased to feel, was awed into silence. As for Herman, he could not take
+his eyes away, but stood there with his gaze chained to the face of the
+sleeping girl; for she was sleeping--sleeping that dear, quiet sleep,
+which, in this world, never knows an awakening hour. In the language of
+the woman-fiend, she indeed "was _well_!" Dead, with the second life
+which she bore, dead within her. Poor Alice! She had only opened her
+wings in the world, to fold them again and die.
+
+"Herman," whispered Godiva, "look at that! Are you not proud of your
+work?"
+
+"Don't taunt me, Marion," he answered. "Had I never met you--had you
+never made my life but one continued dream of sensuality--I would not
+stand here at this hour, gazing upon this murdered girl."
+
+"Sweet boy! And so, when I first met you, you believed all that you
+preached in the pulpit?"
+
+"If I did not believe it, I certainly did not wish to doubt it. You,
+and the life I've led since first I knew you, have made me _dread_ the
+very mention of the existence of a God, or of the immortality of the
+soul."
+
+"Pretty boy! How sadly I've used you! But don't call me Marion
+again;--that name I left in the grave. Leave off preaching, and let us
+see what you intend to do?"
+
+"Godiva, whichever way I look is ruin. I am rid of this Dermoyne; but
+there are those persons who, conscious of _the event of that night in
+November_, 1842, will expose me to the world, unless I become their
+tool, in regard to the heirs of Anreke Jans and Trinity Church. I am
+sick of this life of suspense and dread! Let us fly, Godiva; I will
+change my name, and, in some distant place, begin life anew."
+
+"What, and leave your wife?"
+
+"Take care, Godiva, take care! Don't press me too hard! You know who it
+was that planned the dishonor of that wife, when she was a maiden, and
+betrothed to me. Take care!"
+
+"You needn't look so black at me with those devilish eyes," said
+Godiva, as her face lost that bitter sneer, which, for the last few
+moments, had made her resemble a beautiful fiend. "You mustn't be angry
+at my jests. Well--let us travel! I have money enough for both, and we
+can enjoy ourselves with money anywhere. But the Van Huyden estate?"
+
+"I cannot call my share my own, even if a share should happen to fall
+to me. These people who knew of _the event in_ 1842, and who are now
+playing conspirator between Trinity Church and the heirs of Anreke
+Jans, will demand my share as the price of their silence. I cannot live
+in this state of dread. Listen Godiva! A vessel sails this afternoon
+for one of the West India Islands. What think you of a life in the
+tropics, far away from this devilish _practical_ world? Why, we can
+make an Eden to ourselves, and forget that we ever lived before! I
+have engaged passage for two on board this vessel. It makes my heart
+bound! Groves of palm--a cloudless sky--good wine--days all dream, and
+nights!--ah, Godiva! Flight, Godiva, flight!"
+
+"Flight be it, and to-night!" cried Godiva, winding her arm about
+Herman's neck.
+
+They were disturbed by a sound, low and scarcely audible--it resembled
+the sound of a footstep. Herman turned his head, and saw, between him
+and the doorway, the haggard face of--Arthur Dermoyne, whose cheek
+was marked with a hideous gash, but whose eyes shone with a clear
+unfaltering light.
+
+Herman read his death in those eyes.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Let us turn from this scene, and enter once more the secret chamber of
+the Madam.
+
+"Why, Doctor, I am glad to see you!" she cried, as Doctor Arthur Conroy
+entered her room; "I haven't clapped eyes upon you for a dog's age.
+Why, bless me, how changed you are!"
+
+As Conroy flung his cloak upon a chair, and advancing to the light,
+seated himself opposite the Madam, it was evident that he was indeed
+changed. His eyes were dull and heavy, his cheeks bloated; the marks
+of days and nights spent in sensual excess, were upon every lineament
+of his once noble face. A sad, a terrible change! Can this man who
+sits before us, with his coat buttoned to the chin, and his heavy eyes
+rolling vacantly in his bloated countenance, be the same Arthur Conroy
+whom we first beheld in the lonely hour of his student vigil, his eyes
+dilating with a noble ambition, his forehead stamped with thought, with
+genius?
+
+"I am changed," he said sullenly and with a thick utterance; "let me
+have some brandy."
+
+The Madam, without a word, produced a bottle and a glass. Conroy filled
+the glass half-full, and drank it, undiluted with water, and without
+removing the glass from his lips.
+
+And then his faded eyes began to flash and his cheek to glow.
+
+It was the most melancholy kind of intemperance--that which drinks
+alone, and drinks in silence, and, instead of rousing the social
+feelings, or the grotesque fancies of drunken mirth, calls up the
+images of the past, and bids them feed upon the soul.
+
+"Good brandy that! It warms the blood!"
+
+"Why, Conroy, I have not seen you since you brought Godiva here, and
+that is a year and I don't know how many months ago."
+
+"May God,"--he ended the sentence with an awful imprecation upon the
+very name of Godiva. And his face grew wild with hatred.
+
+"Why I thought she was a favorite of yours, or you of hers," said the
+Madam.
+
+"By ----! I wish I had buried my knife in her heart, as she lay on the
+dissecting table before me!" he cried, his voice hoarse with emotion.
+"Look at me! When first I met that woman I was studious, ambitious; the
+thought of my mother and two sisters, who depended upon my efforts,
+stirred me into superhuman exertion. Well!--It is not _quite_ a
+_century_ since I met that woman, and look at me now--a gambler--a
+drunkard; yes," he struck the table with his fist--"Arthur Conroy
+is come to that! My mother dead, of a broken heart, and my sisters,
+well!--my sisters--"
+
+As he tried to choke down his emotion, his features worked as with a
+spasm.
+
+"Well! never mind!--and the accursed woman, whom I brought to your
+house, in order to kill the fruits of her passion,--she is the cause of
+all,--"
+
+The light which left the greater part of the room in shadow, fell
+strongly over the florid face of the Madam, manifesting vague
+astonishment; and the flushed visage of Conroy, working with violent
+emotions.
+
+"Yes," he said, as though thinking aloud, while his eyes shone with the
+brilliancy of a lighted coal,--"she was to make my fortune; she was
+to aid me, as I ascended that difficult path, which ambition treads
+in pursuit of fame. How smooth her words! I called her back from the
+dead,--she recovered from her relative a large portion of her property,
+sacrificing the rest, on condition that he concealed the fact of her
+existence from the world,--and I loved her, became the habitant of her
+mansion, the companion of her voluptuous hours. The she-devil! look to
+what she has brought me!"
+
+"I wonder if he wants to borrow money?" said the Madam, in a sort of
+stage-whisper.
+
+"No he does not," returned Conroy, with a scowl,--"He wants to do you
+a service, good lady. This morning about daybreak, as I was returning
+from the Club-Room, I came across a poor devil in the streets, who had
+been shockingly abused by ruffians,--"
+
+"Ah!" and the Madam sank back in her chair.
+
+"I could not let him die there, so I dragged him to the house of a
+clergyman, hard by, and laid him on the sofa. Then, assisted by the
+wife of the clergyman, a good sort of woman,--I dressed the wounds of
+the poor devil, and brought him to."
+
+"The name of the clergyman?" asked the Madam, biting her lips.
+
+"Barnet, or Barnhurst, or some such name."
+
+"Ah!" and the Madam changed color, "and you left this man there?"
+
+"He must have had a constitution of iron, to stand all those knocks!
+Do you know in a little while he was on his feet, explaining to the
+clergyman's lady, that he had come home with her husband, the night
+before, and had been dragged by unknown ruffians, from that very
+house,--"
+
+"The dev-i-l!" and Madam clutched the arms of her chair, as she tried
+to restrain the rage, which filled every atom of her bulky frame.
+
+"And now, he's down stairs at the door--"
+
+"Down stairs at the door!" she bounded from her chair.
+
+"He has a book under his arm, bound in red morocco," continued Dr.
+Conroy,--"and he desires to see you on particular business," and Conroy
+filled another glass, half full of brandy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Once more to the death-room of Alice.
+
+Dermoyne, who was as white as a sheet, stood but one step from the
+threshold, Godiva was by the bed, Herman near the head of the bed: thus
+Godiva was between the avenger and his victim.
+
+Herman read his death in the eyes of Dermoyne, and looked to the
+window, as though he thought of raising the sashing, and dashing
+himself to pieces upon the pavement.
+
+Godiva also caught the eye of Dermoyne,--she saw, that weak as he was
+from his wounds, and the loss of blood, that he was nerved by his
+emotions, by his purpose, with superhuman strength,--she saw the pistol
+in his hand. And all the craft of her dark and depraved nature, came
+in a moment to her aid. She resolved to save Herman,--that is, if her
+craft could save him.
+
+"Hush! hush!" she whispered, "do not awake the sleeping girl! She has
+had a hard night, but now all is well. Hush! tread lightly,--lightly!--"
+
+"Then she lives!" cried Dermoyne, and his savage eyes lit up with joy.
+
+"Lives, and is doing well, don't you see how sweet she sleeps?" said
+Godiva advancing to him, on tip-toe, "Generous man! How can I thank you
+for your kindness to my cousin, poor, dear Alice?"
+
+"Your cousin?" without another word, she flung herself upon Dermoyne's
+breast, wound her arms tightly about his neck, and hung there like a
+tigress upon the neck of her victim.
+
+"Now's your time, Herman!" she cried,--and Dermoyne struggled madly in
+her embrace, but her arms wound closer about his neck, and he struggled
+in vain. His pistol fell to the floor.
+
+Herman rushed by him, and the next instant, Dermoyne had unwound the
+arms of Godiva, and flung her violently to the floor. He turned to the
+door,--it was closed and locked,--Herman had escaped.
+
+"Villain, you shall pay for this with your life!" he cried, as with
+flaming eyes, he advanced upon the prostrate Godiva.
+
+"Don't be rash, my dear," she said, as seated on the floor, she was
+coolly engaged in arranging her disheveled hair, "You can't strike me.
+I'm a woman."
+
+"A woman?" he echoed incredulously.
+
+"Yes,--and a very good looking one,--don't you think so?" and she
+looked at him in insolent composure, while her vest,--torn open in the
+struggle,--displayed a glimpse of her neck and bosom.
+
+Who, in this calm shameless thing,--proud at once of her beauty, and
+her shame, would recognize the innocent Marion Merlin of other years?
+With an ejaculation of contempt and anger, Dermoyne turned away from
+her, and approached the bed of Alice.
+
+Alice was indeed sleeping there, her cheek upon the pillow, her lips
+apart, and with a ray of sunshine upon her closed eyelids, and sunny
+hair.
+
+Dermoyne felt his heart die within him at the sight. There are emotions
+upon which it is best to drop the vail, for words are too weak to
+picture their awful intensity.
+
+He called her name, "Alice!" and spreading forth his arms, he fell
+insensible upon the bed, his lips pressing the forehead of the dead
+girl.
+
+Godiva rose, closed her vest, and calmly surveyed the scene, with her
+eyes shadowed by her uplifted hand:--
+
+"I believe upon my soul, he did love her!" was her comment, and a tear
+shone in her eye.
+
+The key turned in the lock, and presently a man with flushed face, and
+unsteady step, appeared upon the threshold. It was Arthur Conroy.
+
+"Halloo! what's up?" he cried, with a thick utterance.--"That you
+Divy?" and staggering over the floor, he attempted to put his arm about
+her neck.
+
+"Beast!" she cried, and struck him in the face. And ere he had
+recovered from the surprise of the blow, she glided from the room.
+
+Seating himself on the foot of the bed, his eyes rolling in the vacancy
+of intoxication, he began to mutter words like these,--
+
+"I'd a-better have cut you up, when I had you on the dissectin'
+table--I had. 'Beast.' You've served the devil for very small wages,
+Arthur Conroy! Ha, ha,--its a queer world."
+
+Shall we ever see Herman and Godiva, Conroy and Dermoyne again?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE DREAM-ELIXIR.
+
+
+The Twenty-Fourth of December was a happy day with Randolph Royalton.
+One happy day, after a long month devoted to agony and despair! Early
+morning light, found him in an upper chamber of the mansion, near
+the window, his form half concealed among the curtains, but his pale
+countenance, fully disclosed. There was thought upon his broad white
+forehead, relieved by the jet-black hair, an emotion of unspeakable
+tenderness,--passion,--in his large, clear blue eyes, and all the while
+upon his lips, an expression in which hatred mingled with contempt.
+For three images rose before him,--his future, and that was hard to
+read, and buried him in thought,--Eleanor, young and beautiful, and
+willing to become his own, and that filled his eyes with the light of
+passion,--his Brother, whom he had left helpless and insensible in a
+distant chamber, and who had met all his offers of fraternal love with
+withering scorn, and that thought curled his lip with mingled hatred
+and contempt.
+
+In his hand he held a letter, which had just been delivered by Mr.
+Hicks, and before him were two huge trunks, one bearing the name of
+"Randolph Royalton, Heidelberg," and the other the name of "Esther
+Royalton, Hill Royal, S. C." These trunks which had just arrived in a
+mysterious manner, had been placed in his room by the hand of a servant.
+
+On his way south, about a month before, Randolph had left his trunk
+in Washington, and hurried home, eager to see his father. When Esther
+was brought to Washington, by her brother and her purchaser, her trunk
+was brought with her from Royalton. And when Randolph and Esther
+escaped from Washington, they took their trunks with them as far as
+Philadelphia, where they left them in their eagerness to escape from
+their pursuers.
+
+And now these trunks,--containing all that they were worth in the
+world,--had by some unknown person, been brought to the house in
+Broadway, and delivered into the servant's hands, accompanied by the
+note which Randolph held.
+
+"Brother!" ejaculated Randolph, thinking of Harry Royalton, whom he
+had left weak and helpless in a distant chamber,--a chamber which
+Randolph had given up to him--"Brother! I am afraid our accounts draw
+to a close. I'm afraid that your nature cannot be changed. Shall I have
+to fight you with your own weapons? Last night I saved your life,--I
+brought you to my own home; I laid you on my own bed; I watched over
+you, and when you woke, held out to you a brother's hand. That hand you
+struck down in scorn! So much the worse for you, dear brother. Your
+condition will not allow you to leave this house for a day or two,--at
+least not until _to-morrow_ is over. And _to-morrow_ past, brother, you
+will forfeit all interest in the Van Huyden Estate."
+
+Randolph was a generous and a noble man, but there were desperate
+elements within, which the events of the last month had begun to
+develop. He now felt that his fate would be decided and forever, by the
+course of the next twenty-four hours. And every power of his soul, all
+the strength, the good,--shall we say evil?--began to rise within him
+to meet the crisis. There was energy in his look, danger in his eye.
+
+"And Eleanor,--" he breathed that name and paused, and for a moment
+he was enveloped in the atmosphere of an intense but sinless passion.
+"Eleanor loves me! She will be mine!"
+
+But how should his marriage with Eleanor be accomplished, without the
+fatal disclosure, that instead of being the legitimate child of John
+Augustine Royalton, he was simply--the White Slave of his own brother?
+
+The thought was madness, but Randolph met it, and rousing every power
+of his soul, sought to pierce the clouds which hung upon his future.
+
+He opened the letter, which Mr. Hicks had delivered to him, and
+recognized the hand of his unknown protector,--his friend of the
+Half-Way House. It was dated "Dec. 24th," 1844, and these were its
+contents:--
+
+ "TO RANDOLPH ROYALTON:--
+
+ "When first I met you and your sister at the house near Princeton,
+ and heard the story of your wrongs, in you I recognized the children
+ of an old and dear friend, John Augustine Royalton. I determined to
+ protect you. You know how my plans were laid. Your brother, also your
+ persecutor, was delivered to punishment. Yourself and sister were
+ brought to New York, and placed in the mansion which you now occupy.
+ Last night, wishing to know whether there yet remained in your brother
+ one throb of a better nature--conscious that if his feelings to you
+ were unchanged, you would at no moment be safe from his vengeance,--I
+ arranged your meeting with him and his instrument, in the den below
+ Five Points. From old Royal (whom I first met in Philadelphia, and
+ who told me of your story before I saw you at the half-way house,) I
+ have learned all that occurred last night,--the attack made on you by
+ your brother,--your magnanimous conduct,--the awful, although richly
+ deserved death of Bloodhound, his atrocious tool. And although I know
+ not what became of your brother after you bore him from the den, I
+ doubt not but that you have placed him where he will be watched over
+ with affectionate care.
+
+ "Yesterday I encountered Mr. Bernard Lynn, who seemed to take a great
+ interest in you. I directed him to your house,--treat him as your
+ guest in your own house,--for I especially desire you to regard the
+ house and all it contains as yours, until the 25th of December has
+ passed. Until then be perfectly at your ease. Await the developments
+ of the 25th of December. In the meantime, if you want money, you
+ will find it in the drawer of the desk (of which I inclose the key,)
+ which you will find in your bed-room. Your trunks, which you lost in
+ Philadelphia, I have recovered and send to you. Make no effort to see
+ me, until I call upon you.
+
+ "Your friend,
+
+ "EZEKIEL BOGART."
+
+In the letter there was much food for thought.
+
+"So far all well," thought Randolph,--"but _to-morrow_ once passed,
+what then?" He unlocked his trunk, and after a careful examination,
+found that its contents remained the same as when he had left it in
+Washington. It was very large, and divided into various compartments,
+and contained his wardrobe, his choicest books, and most treasured
+letters, together with numerous memorials of his student life in
+Heidelberg. Opening a small and secret drawer, he drew forth a package
+of letters, held together by a faded ribbon.
+
+"Ah! letters from my father!" and he untied the package,--"What is
+this? I never saw it before!"
+
+It was a letter directed to him in his father's hand, and sealed with
+his father's seal. To his complete astonishment the seal was unbroken.
+
+"How came this letter here? My father's seal and unbroken,--this is
+indeed strange!"
+
+He regarded the letter carefully, weighed it in his hand, but paused,
+in hesitation, ere he broke the seal. For the first time, written
+around the seal, in his father's hand, he beheld these words, "_Not to
+be opened until my death._"
+
+Tears started into Randolph's eyes, and for a moment, as he knelt
+there, he rested his forehead on his hand.
+
+Then, with an eager hand, he broke the seal. The contents of the letter
+were bared to the light.
+
+ "HEIDELBERG, _September_ 23, 1840.
+
+ "DEAREST SON:--
+
+ "You have just left me, and with the memory of our late conversation
+ fresh in my mind, I now write this letter, which you will not read
+ until I am dead. Randolph, I repeat the truth of that which I have
+ just disclosed to you,--your mother was not my mistress, but my lawful
+ wife. Yourself and Esther are legitimate. By my will I make you, with
+ Harry, joint inheritors of my estate, and of my share in the Van
+ Huyden estate.
+
+ "Your mother, Herodia, was not the child of Colonel Rawdon, but the
+ dearly beloved daughter of ---- ----, who never acknowledged her to
+ the world. He communicated, however, the secret of her paternity to
+ Rawdon, and left her in his charge, intrusting him with a sealed
+ packet, which he directed should be delivered to Herodia's son,
+ in case a son was ever born to her. A packet which contained a
+ commission, upon whose fulfillment by that son, the happiness, the
+ destiny of all the races on the American continent, might depend.
+ Worshiping the memory of this great man, Rawdon treated Herodia (known
+ as a slave) as his own child and would not transfer her to me, until I
+ had made her my wife in a secret marriage.
+
+ "A sealed copy of my will I gave you a few moments since; and this
+ letter contains an original letter of ---- ----, written to Colonel
+ Rawdon, and recognizing Herodia as his child.
+
+ "When I am dead, you will find the packet in a secret closet behind
+ the fourth shelf of my library, at Hill Royal. There you will also
+ find a large amount of gold, which may be useful to you in some
+ unforeseen hour of adversity, and which I hereby give to you and
+ Esther.
+
+ "This letter I inclose in the package of letters which you left for my
+ perusal.
+
+ "Your father,
+
+ "JOHN AUGUSTINE ROYALTON,
+
+ "_of Hill Royal_."
+
+Randolph read this letter with signs of emotion not to be mistaken.
+Rising from his knees, he walked slowly up and down the room, his eyes
+shaded by his uplifted hand. As he drew near the window, his pale face
+was flushed, his eyes radiant with new light.
+
+"So! I am then the elder brother, the real lord of Hill Royal! My
+mother was a slave, but she was the lawful wife of my father." His brow
+clouded and his lips curved. "It seems to me this younger brother has
+given us trouble enough,--let him have a care how his shadow crosses my
+way for the future."
+
+He stood erect in every inch of his stature, his eyes dilating, and
+his hand extended, as though,--even like a glorious landscape, rich in
+vine-clad mountains and grassy meadows, smiling in the sun,--he beheld
+his future stretch clear and bold before him.
+
+"Harry, I have given you my hand for the last time," he said, in a
+significant voice.
+
+A piece of paper, carefully folded and worn by time, slipped from
+the letter which he held. Randolph seized it eagerly, and opening
+it, beheld a few lines traced in a handwriting which had long become
+historical. It was dated many years back, and was addressed to Colonel
+Rawdon.
+
+ "MY ESTEEMED FRIEND:--
+
+ "I am glad to hear the girl, HERODIA, whom, many years ago, I placed
+ in your care, (acquainting you with the circumstances of her birth
+ and paternity,) progresses toward womanhood, rich in education,
+ accomplishments and personal loveliness. While nominally your slave,
+ you have treated her as a daughter,--accept her father's heartfelt
+ gratitude. In consequence of her descent, on her mother's side, she
+ cannot (with safety to herself) be formally manumitted, nor can she
+ be publicly recognized as the equal of your own daughter, or the
+ associate of ladies of the white race. But it is my last charge to
+ you, that she be honorably (even although secretly) married; and that
+ the inclosed sealed packet which I send to you, be given to her eldest
+ son, in case a son is born to her. That packet contains matters which,
+ carried into action by such a son, would do much, yes, everything,
+ to establish the happiness of all the races on this continent. Kiss
+ for me, that dear daughter of mine, whom, in this life, I shall never
+ behold.
+
+ "Yours, with respect and gratitude,
+
+ "---- ----."
+
+A very touching,--an altogether significant letter.
+
+Randolph pressed it to his lips in silence. Then inclosing it within
+his father's letter, he placed them both in a secret compartment of his
+trunk.
+
+He seated himself, and folding his arms, gave himself up to the
+dominion of a crowd of thoughts, which flooded in upon his soul, like
+mingled sunshine and lightning through the window of a darkened room.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Bending over his trunk, he was examining, with an absent gaze, certain
+memorials of his old student brothers of Heidelberg. A small casket
+contained them all.
+
+"This ring was given to me by poor Richmond, the English student.
+He was killed in a duel. And here is the watch of Van Brondt,--poor
+fellow! he died of consumption, even as his studies were completed,
+and a youth of poverty and hardship seemed about to be succeeded
+by a manhood of wealth and fame. And this,"--he took up a small
+vial, whose glass was incased in silver,--"this, Van Eichmer, the
+enthusiastic chemist, gave me. I wonder whether his dreams of fame,
+from the discovery embodied in this vial, will ever be realized? A rare
+liquid,--its powers rivaling the wonders of enchantment. He gave it to
+me under a solemn pledge not to subject it to chemical analysis, until
+he has time to mature his discovery, and make it known as the result
+of his own genius. He called it (somewhat after the fanciful fashion
+of the old alchemists) the 'Dream-Elixir.' I wonder if it has lost its
+virtues?"
+
+Removing the buckskin covering which concealed the stopple, he then
+carefully drew the stopple, and applied the vial for a moment to his
+nostrils. The effect was as rapid as lightning. His face changed;
+his eyes grew wild and dreamy. His whole being was pervaded by an
+inexpressible rapture,--a rapture of calmness, (if we may thus speak)
+a rapture of unutterable repose. And like cloud-forms revealed by
+lightning, the most gorgeous images swept before him. He seemed to have
+been suddenly caught up into the paradise of Mahomet, among fountains,
+showering upon beds of roses, and with the white-bosomed houris gliding
+to and fro.
+
+In a word, the effect of the vial, applied but for an instant to
+his nostrils, threw into the shade all the wonders of opium, and
+rivaled in enchantment the maddening draught of oriental story,--_the
+Hashish_,--which the Old Man of the Mountain gave to his devotee
+Assassins,[1] intoxicating them with the odors of paradise, even as
+their hands were red with their victims' blood.
+
+[1] The order of the Assassins prevailed in Asia, in the days of the
+Crusades, and the history of their power and terrible influence is
+strangely connected with the history of the Knights Templars. The
+founder of the order, Hassan Sabah, rewarded his devotees for their
+deeds of murder, by a draught (called as above, the HASHISH,) whose
+powers of enchantment consoled them for a lifetime of hardship and
+danger.
+
+Like one awaking from a trance, Randolph slowly recovered from the
+effect of the Dream-Elixir, and once more saw the winter light shining
+through his window. The vial was in his hand,--he had taken the
+precaution to replace the stopple, the moment after he had applied it
+to his nostrils.
+
+"It has lost none of its virtues. Held to the nostrils, or a few drops
+on a kerchief, applied to the mouth, its first effect is rapture; the
+second, rapture prolonged to delirium; its third, rapture that ends in
+death."
+
+Randolph replaced the buckskin covering around the stopple of the vial,
+and then placed the vial in his vest pocket.
+
+At this moment the door opened and the quiet Mr. Hicks entered the
+room, clad in his gray livery, turned up with black. He bowed and
+said,--
+
+"Master, Mr. Lynn sends his compliments and desires to see you in the
+parlor."
+
+"Tell Mr. Lynn that I will attend him presently," said Randolph rising
+from his knees.--"How is our patient, Mr. Hicks?"
+
+"I left him asleep. He is very weak, though quite easy."
+
+"Mr. Hicks, I desire that you will attend him throughout the day, or
+place him in the care of some trustworthy servant. If he asks for any
+one, send for me. Admit no one into his room,--you understand, he is a
+dear friend of mine,"--he placed his finger on his forehead,--"a little
+touched here, and I do not wish his misfortune to be known, until all
+the means of recovery, which I have at my command, prove hopeless. Mr.
+Hicks, you will remember."
+
+"I will remember, and attend to your commands, master," and Mr. Hicks
+bowed like an automaton.
+
+"Have this trunk removed to Miss Royalton's room," said Randolph, and
+leaving Mr. Hicks, he descended to the parlor.
+
+Through the rich curtains of the eastern and western windows of that
+magnificent apartment, the morning light was dimly shining. The lofty
+walls, the pictures, the statues, the carpet, the mirrors, all looked
+grand and luxurious in the softened light.
+
+Bernard Lynn sat on the sofa, in the center of the parlor, his arms
+folded and his countenance troubled. As he raised his gaze and greeted
+Randolph, in a kindly although absent way, Randolph saw that his
+bronzed visage, (above which rose masses of snow-white hair) was traced
+with the lines of anxious thought, and his dark eyes were feverish with
+restlessness and care.
+
+"Sit by me, Randolph," he said in a serious voice, and he grasped
+Randolph's hand and gazed earnestly in his face.--"I wish to speak with
+you. I have traveled much, Randolph, and when matters press heavily on
+my mind, I am a blunt man,--I use few words. I desire you to give all
+imaginable emphasis to what I am about to say."
+
+Randolph took his hand and met his gaze; but he felt troubled and
+perplexed at Bernard Lynn's words and manner.
+
+"Briefly, then, Randolph,--when can you leave the city?"
+
+Without knowing how the words came to his lips, Randolph replied,--"The
+day after to-morrow."
+
+"Can you go with us, by steamer, to Charleston? I wish to visit
+the scene,--" he paused as if unable to proceed,--"the scene,--you
+understand me? And then, after a week's delay, we will go to Havana and
+spend the winter there. Will you go with us?"
+
+It is impossible to describe the emotions which these words aroused.
+Hopes, fears, a picture of his father's home, the consciousness there
+was a taint upon his blood,--all whirled like lightning through his
+brain. But he did not stop to analyze his thoughts, but answered
+again,--as though the word was given to him,--in a single word, earnest
+in tone, and with a hearty grasp,--
+
+"Willingly," he said.
+
+A ray of pleasure flitted over the bronzed face of Bernard Lynn. But
+in an instant he was sad and earnest again. "Randolph, I have been
+thinking, and most seriously,--I beg you to listen to the result of my
+thoughts. Nay, not a word,--fewest words are best, and a plain answer
+to a plain question will decide all.--I have been thinking of the
+desolate condition in which Eleanor will be left, in case her father is
+suddenly taken away. She will need a friend, a protector, a husband."
+
+He paused; Randolph, all agitation, awaited his next word in breathless
+suspense.
+
+"I have long known her feelings,--she tells me that she knows yours.
+You are aware of my fortune and position,--I am aware of yours.
+Plainly, then, do you love her,--do you desire her hand?"
+
+For a moment Randolph could not reply.
+
+"O, my dearest friend, can you ask it?" he exclaimed, taking both hands
+of Mr. Lynn in his own,--"Do I desire Eleanor's hand? It is the only
+wish of my life,--"
+
+"Enough, my friend, enough," replied Bernard, as a tear stole down his
+cheek. "In serious matters, I am a man of few words,--I fear that I may
+be suddenly taken away--I feel that there is no use of delay. Shall it
+take place this evening in your house?"
+
+Randolph could only reply by a silent grasp of the hand.
+
+"In presence of your sister, myself and the clergyman? And then, the
+day after to-morrow we leave for Charleston--"
+
+"You speak the dearest wish of my soul," was all that Randolph could
+reply.
+
+Bernard Lynn arose,--"I will go out and buy a bridal present for my
+child," he said, "and your sister and myself will take charge of all
+the details of the marriage. God bless you, my boy! What a load is
+lifted from my heart!"
+
+How over his bronzed visage, a look cordial and joyous as the spring
+sunshine played, even while there were tears in his eyes!
+
+Randolph felt his heart swell with rapture, but instantly,--growing
+pale as death,--he rose, and resolved to make a revelation, which would
+blast all his hopes to ashes.
+
+"I will not deceive this good old man. I will tell him my real
+condition, tell him that there is the blood of the accursed race in my
+veins."
+
+This was his thought, and feeling like a criminal on the scaffold, he
+prepared to fulfill it,--
+
+"Ah, you and I are agreed," cried Bernard, with his usual jovial
+laugh.--"but you must ask this child what she says of the matter," and
+dropping Randolph's hand, he hurried from the room.
+
+Even as the first word of the confession was on his lip, Randolph
+beheld Eleanor, who had entered unperceived, standing between him and
+the light, on the very spot which her father had just left.
+
+She looked very beautiful.
+
+Clad in a dark dress, which, fitting closely to her arms and bust, and
+flowing in rich folds, around her womanly proportions, from the waist
+to the feet, she stood before him, one finger raised to her lip, her
+eyes fixed upon him in a gaze, full of deep and passionate light. Her
+face was cast into faint shadow, by her hair, which was disposed about
+it, in brown and wavy masses. But through the shadow her eyes shone
+with deep and passionate light.
+
+A very beautiful woman, now unable to utter a word, as with heaving
+breast, she confronts the man whom she knows is destined to be her
+husband.
+
+Why does all thought of confession fade from Randolph's mind?
+
+O, the atmosphere of the presence of a pure, and beautiful
+woman, whose eyes gleam upon you with passionate love, carries
+with it an enchantment, which makes you forget the whole
+universe,--everything,--save that she is before you, that she loves
+you, that your soul is chained to her eyes.
+
+Randolph silently stretched forth his arms. She came to him, and laid
+her arms about his neck, her bosom upon his breast.
+
+"My wife!" he whispered.
+
+And she raised her face, until their lips and their eyes, met at once,
+whispering--"My husband."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Certainly, this was a happy day for Randolph Royalton.
+
+Talk of opium, _hashish_, dream-elixir! Talk of their enchantment, and
+of the Mahomet's paradise which they create! What enchantment can rival
+the pressure of a pure woman's lips, which breathe softly, "husband!"
+as she lays them against your own?
+
+But at least a dozen gentlemen who have divorce cases on hand, will
+curse me bitterly for writing the last sentence. And all the old
+bachelors who, having never known the kiss of a pure wife, or any wife
+at all, and having grown musty in their sins, will turn away with an
+"umph!" and an oath. And all the young libertines, who, deriving their
+opinion of women, merely from the unfaithful wives, and abandoned
+creatures with whom they have herded, and having expended even before
+the day of young manhood, every healthy throb, in shameless excess,
+they, too, will expand their faded eyes, and curl their colorless lips,
+at the very mention of "a pure woman," much less, a "pure woman's
+kiss." The "fast," the very "fast" boys!
+
+But there are some who will not utterly dislike the allusion to a pure
+woman, or a pure woman's kiss.
+
+That quiet sort of people who, having no divorce cases on hand, know
+that there are such things as pure women in the world, and know that
+a good wife, carries about her an atmosphere of goodness, that brings
+heaven itself down to the home.
+
+And you, old bachelor,--a word in your ear,--if you only knew the
+experience of returning from a long journey late at night,--of stealing
+quietly into a home, your own home, up the dark stairs, and into a
+room, where a single light is shining near a bed,--of seeing there,
+blooming on the white pillow, the face of a pure wife, your own
+wife, rosy with sleep, and with her dark hair peeping out from her
+night-cap----, why, old bachelor, if you had only an idea of this kind
+of experience, you'd curse yourself for not getting married some forty
+years ago!--
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The day passed quickly and happily, in quiet preparation for the bridal
+ceremony.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Eleanor was seated in a rocking-chair, her feet crossed and resting
+on a stool, her head thrown back, and her dark hair resting partly
+on her bared shoulders, partly on the arm of Esther, who stood
+behind her. The beams of the declining sun came softened through the
+window-curtains, and lit up the scene with mild, subdued light. It was
+a beautiful picture. There stood Esther, the matured woman, rich in
+every charm of voluptuous and stately beauty; and her gaze, softened by
+her long eyelashes, was tenderly fixed upon the upturned countenance
+of Eleanor,--a countenance radiant with youth, with abounding life,
+with passionate love. The habit of dark green cloth which Esther wore,
+contrasted with the robe of white muslin which enveloped Eleanor, its
+flowing folds girdled lightly about her waist and its snowy whiteness,
+half hidden by her unbound hair; for that hair which was soft brown in
+the sunlight and black in the shadow, fell in copious waves over her
+neck, her bosom, and below her waist. Eleanor was beautiful, Esther
+was beautiful, but their loveliness was of contrasted types; you could
+not precisely define how they differed; you only saw that they were
+beautiful, and that the loveliness of one, set off and added to, the
+charms of the other.
+
+And as Esther was arranging the hair of the bride, for the marriage
+ceremony, they conversed in low tones:
+
+"O, we shall all be so happy!" said Eleanor--"the climate of Havana,
+is as soft and bland as Italy, and it will be so delightful to leave
+this dreary sky, this atmosphere all storm and snow, for a land where
+summer never knows an end, and where every breeze is loaded with the
+breath of flowers!"
+
+Esther was about to reply, but Eleanor continued,--and her words drove
+the life-blood from Esther's cheek.
+
+"And on our way we will stop at the old mansion of Hill Royal, the home
+of Randolph's ancestors. How I shall delight to wander with you through
+those fine old rooms, where the associations of the past meet you at
+every step! Do you know, Esther, that I am a great aristocrat,--I
+believe in race, in blood,--in the perpetuation of the same qualities,
+either good or evil, from generation to generation? Look at Randolph,
+at yourself, for instance,--your look, your walk, every accent tell the
+story of a proud, a noble ancestry!"
+
+"Or, look at yourself," was all that Esther could say, as she bent over
+the happy bride, thus hiding her face,--grown suddenly pale,--from the
+light. "Shall I tell her all?" the thought flashed over her, as she
+wound her hands through the rich meshes of Eleanor's hair,--"shall I
+tell this beautiful girl, who is as proud as she is beautiful, that in
+the veins of her husband there is--negro blood?"
+
+But the very thought of such a revelation appalled her.
+
+"Better leave it to the future," she thought, and then said aloud,
+"Tell me, Eleanor, something about Italy."
+
+And while Esther, with sisterly hands, arrayed her for the bridal, the
+proud and happy bride, whose every vein swelled with abounding life and
+love, spoke of Italy,--of its skies and its monuments,--of the hour
+when she first met Randolph, and also of the moment when, amid the
+Apennines, he saved her life, her honor.
+
+"O, sister, do you think that a love like ours can ever know the shadow
+of change?"
+
+Happy Eleanor!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Meanwhile Randolph, standing by the parlor window apparently gazing
+upon the current of life which whirled madly along Broadway, in the
+light of the declining day, was in reality abstracted from all external
+existence, and buried in his own thoughts,--thoughts delicious and
+enchanting. Was there no phantom in the background, to cast its fatal
+shadow over the rich landscape which rose before his mental eye?
+
+He was attired for the marriage ceremony, in a severely plain costume,
+which well became his thoughtful face and manly frame,--black dress
+coat, vest of white Marseilles, open collar and black neckerchief.
+As he stood there, noble-featured, broad-browed, his clear blue eyes
+and dark hair, contrasting with his complexion whose extreme pallor
+indicated by no means either lack of health or vigor, who would have
+thought that there was--negro blood in his veins?
+
+"In an hour Eleanor will be my wife!" he muttered, and his brow grew
+clouded and thoughtful, even while his eyes were filled with passionate
+light. "But there is no use of reflecting now. I must leave that fatal
+disclosure, with all its chances and consequences, to the future.
+Eleanor will be my wife, come what will."
+
+His meditations were interrupted by the entrance of Mr. Hicks, who wore
+his usual imperturbable look, which seemed as much a part of him as his
+livery of gray turned up with black.
+
+"How has our _patient_ been since I left him an hour ago?" asked
+Randolph.
+
+"He is no longer delirious," answered Mr. Hicks. "About a half an hour
+ago, he asked me the time of day, in a tone, and with a look, that
+showed that he had come to his senses."
+
+"You conversed with him?"
+
+"No, sir. He fell into a quiet sleep, and I left him in charge of a
+faithful servant. Don't you think we had better change the bandages on
+his back, after awhile? He has been sadly abused----"
+
+"And I came to the scene of conflict just in time to save his life, and
+bear him to my home,--I will see him at once, and then tell you when to
+dress his wounds."
+
+He moved toward the door.
+
+"Has Mr. Lynn returned?" he said, turning his head over his shoulder.
+
+"About half an hour since, he went up stairs to his room," returned Mr.
+Hicks.
+
+Randolph left the parlor and hastened toward his own chamber,
+determined to make one more effort to change the hard nature, the
+unrelenting hatred of his brother. As he passed along the corridor,
+conscious that the most important crisis, if not the all-important
+crisis, of his life was near, his thoughts mingling the image of
+Eleanor with the proud memory of his lineage on the father's side, were
+intense and all-absorbing. For the time he forgot the taint in his
+blood.
+
+He arrived before the door of the chamber in which his brother lay. It
+was near the foot of a broad staircase which, thickly carpeted, and
+with bannisters of walnut, darkened by time, was illumined by light
+from the skylight far above. The door of the chamber was slightly
+open,--Randolph started, for he heard his brother's voice, speaking
+in rapid, impetuous tones. And the next instant, the voice of Bernard
+Lynn, hoarse with anger. Randolph, with his step upon the threshold,
+drew back and listened.
+
+He did not pause to ask himself how Bernard Lynn came to be a visitor
+in the chamber of his brother,--he only listened to their voices,--with
+all his soul, he tried to distinguish their words.
+
+It was the moment of his life. It required a terrible exertion of will,
+to suppress the cry of despair which rose to his lips.
+
+"A negro!" he heard the voice of Bernard Lynn, hoarse with rage,--"and
+to my daughter! Never!"
+
+And then the voice of Harry Royalton, whose life he had spared and
+saved,--"I heard of this marriage from one of the servants, and felt it
+my duty to set you on your guard. Therefore, I sent for you. I can give
+you proof,--proof that will sink the slave into the earth."
+
+Once more the voice of Bernard Lynn,--"A negro! and about to marry him
+to my daughter! A negro!"
+
+There was the hatred of a whole life embodied in the way he pronounced
+that word,--"a negro!"
+
+Randolph laid his hand against the wall, and his head sank on his
+breast. He was completely unnerved.
+
+The hopes of his life were ashes.
+
+Once more, with a terrible exertion, he rallied himself, and with the
+thought,--"There remains, at least, revenge!"--he advanced toward the
+threshold.
+
+But there was a footstep on the stair. Turning, Randolph beheld
+Eleanor, who was slowly descending the stairs. She was clad in her
+bridal dress. The light shone full upon her; she was radiantly
+beautiful. She wore a robe of snow-white satin, girdled lightly to her
+waist by a string of pearls, and over this a robe of green velvet,
+veined with flowers of gold, and open in front from her bosom to her
+feet. Her hair was disposed in rich masses about her face, and from its
+glossy blackness, and from the pure white of her forehead, a circlet of
+diamonds shone dazzlingly in the light. She saw Randolph, and her eyes
+spoke although her lips were silent.
+
+That moment decided her fate and his own.
+
+As she was halfway down the stairs, he sprang to meet her.
+
+"Randolph! how pale you are," and she started as she saw his face.
+
+"Dearest, I must speak with you a moment," he whispered.--"To the
+library."
+
+He took her by the hand and led her up the stairs, and along a
+corridor; she noticed that his hand was hot and cold by turns, and she
+began to tremble in sympathy with his agitation.
+
+They came to the door of the library. The lock was turned from the
+outside by a key, but when the door was closed it locked itself.
+Randolph found the key in the lock; he turned it; the door opened; he
+placed the key in his pocket; they crossed the threshold. The door
+closed behind them, and was locked at once. Eleanor was ignorant of
+this fact.
+
+The library was a spacious apartment, with two windows opening to
+the east, and a ceiling which resembled a dome. The light came dimly
+through the closed curtains, but a wood-fire, smouldering on the broad
+hearth, which now flamed up, and as suddenly died away, served to
+disclose the high walls, lined with shelves, the table in the center
+overspread with books and papers, and the picture above the mantle,
+framed in dark wood. Two antique arm-chairs stood beside the table;
+there was a sofa between the windows, and in each corner of the room,
+a statue was placed on a pedestal. The shelves were crowded with huge
+volumes, whose gilt bindings, though faded by time, glittered in the
+uncertain light. Altogether, as the light now flashed up and died away
+again, it was an apartment reminding you of old times,--of ghosts and
+specters, may be,--but of anything save the present century.
+
+"What a ghost-like place!" said Eleanor.
+
+Randolph led her in silence to the sofa, and seated himself by her side.
+
+"Eleanor, I am sadly troubled. I have just received a letter which
+informs me of a sad disaster which has happened to a friend,--a friend
+whom I have known from boyhood."
+
+Eleanor took his hand. As the light flashed up for an instant, she was
+startled at the sight of his face.
+
+"Compose yourself, Randolph," she said, kindly.--"The news may not be
+so disastrous as you think."
+
+"I will tell you the story in a few words," and he took her hand as he
+continued: "A month ago, I left my friend in Charleston. Young, reputed
+to be wealthy, certainly connected with one of the first families of
+South Carolina, he was engaged in marriage to a beautiful girl,--one
+of the most beautiful that sun ever shone upon,--" he paused,--"as
+beautiful, Eleanor, as yourself."
+
+And he fixed his ardent gaze upon that face which the soft shadow,
+broken now and then by the uncertain light, invested with new
+loveliness.
+
+Eleanor made no reply in words; but her eyes met those of her plighted
+husband.
+
+"The day was fixed for their marriage,--they looked forward to it
+with all the anticipations of a pure and holy love. It came,--the
+bride and bridegroom stood before the altar, in presence of the
+wedding-guests,--the priest began the ceremony, when a revelation was
+made which caused the bride to fall like one dead at the feet of her
+abashed and despair-stricken lover."
+
+"This was, indeed, strange," whispered Eleanor, profoundly interested;
+"and this revelation?"
+
+Randolph drew her nearer to him; his eyes grew deeper in their light,
+as in a voice, that grew lower at every word, he continued,
+
+"The bridegroom was, indeed, connected with one of the first families
+in the State, but even as the priest began the ceremony, a voice from
+among the guests pronounced these words, 'Shame! shame! a woman so
+beautiful to marry a man who has negro blood in his veins!'"
+
+"And these words,--they were not true?" eagerly asked Eleanor, resting
+her hand on Randolph's arm.
+
+"They were true," answered Randolph. "It was their fatal truth which
+caused the bride to fall like a corpse, and covered the face of the
+bridegroom with shame and despair."
+
+Eleanor's bosom heaved above the edge of her bridal robe; her lips
+curled with scorn; "And knowing this fatal truth, this lover sought
+her hand in marriage? O, shame! shame!"
+
+"But hear the sequel of the story," Randolph continued, and well it was
+for him, at that instant, that no sudden glow from the hearth lit up
+his livid and corrugated face,--"What, think you, was the course of the
+plighted wife, when she came to her senses?"
+
+"She spurned from her side this unworthy lover,--she crushed every
+thought of love--"
+
+"No, dearest, no! Even in the presence of her father and the
+wedding-guests, she took the bridegroom by the hand, and although her
+face was pale as death, said, with a firm eye and unfaltering voice,
+'Behold my husband! As heaven is above us, I will wed none but him!'"
+
+"O, base and shameless! base and shameless!" cried Eleanor, the scorn
+of her tone and of her look beyond all power of words,--"to speak thus,
+and take by the hand a man whose veins were polluted by the blood of a
+thrice accursed race!"
+
+Randolph raised his hand to his forehead; what thoughts were burning
+there, need not be told. Shading his eyes, he saw Eleanor before him,
+beautiful and voluptuous, in her bridal robe, her bosom swelling into
+view; but with unmeasured scorn in the curve of her proud lip, in the
+lightning glance of her eyes.
+
+And after that gaze, he said in a low voice, the fatal words,--
+
+"Eleanor, what would you say, were I to inform you, that my veins are
+also polluted by the blood of this thrice accursed race?"
+
+She did not utter a cry; she did not shriek; but starting from the
+sofa, and resting for support one hand against the wall, she turned to
+him her horror-stricken face, uttering a single word,--"You?"
+
+"That I, descended from one of the first families of Carolina, on my
+father's side, am on the mother's side, connected with the accursed
+race?"
+
+"You, Randolph, _you_!"
+
+"That knowing this, I fled from Florence, when first I won your
+love; but to-day, dazzled by your beauty, mad with love of the very
+atmosphere in which you breathe, I forgot the taint in my blood, I saw
+our marriage hour draw nigh, with heaven itself in my heart--"
+
+"O, my God, why can I not die?"
+
+"That even now your father knows the fatal secret, and breathes curses
+upon me, as he pronounces my name; resolves, that you shall die by his
+hand, ere you become my wife--"
+
+She saw his face, by the sudden light,--it was impressed by a mortal
+agony. And although the room seemed to swim around, and her knees bent
+under her, she rallied her fast-fading strength, and advanced toward
+him, but with tottering steps.
+
+"You are either mad, or you wish to drive me mad," she said, and laid
+her hand upon his shoulder,--"there is no taint upon your blood! The
+thought is idle. You, so noble browed, with the look, the voice, the
+soul of a man of genius,--you, that I love so madly,--you, one of the
+accursed race? No, Randolph, this is but a cruel jest--"
+
+Her eyes looked all the brighter for the pallor of her face, as she
+bent over him, and her hair, escaping from the diamond circlet, fell
+over his face and shoulders like a vail.
+
+He drew her to him, and buried his face upon her bosom,--"Eleanor!
+Eleanor," he groaned in very bitterness of spirit, as that bosom beat
+against his fevered brow, and that flowing hair shut him in its glossy
+waves,--"It is no jest. I swear it. But you will yet be mine! Will you
+not, Eleanor,--in spite of everything,--spite of the taint in my blood,
+spite of your father's wrath--"
+
+As with the last effort of her expiring strength, she raised his head
+from her bosom, tore herself from his arms, and stood before him, her
+hair streaming back from her pallid face, while her right hand was
+lifted to heaven--
+
+"It is true, then?" and her eyes wore that look, which revealed all the
+pride of her nature,--"you are then, one of that accursed race," she
+paused, unable to proceed, and stood there with both hands upon her
+forehead. "If I ever wed you, may my mother's curse--"
+
+Randolph rose, the anguish which had stamped his face, suddenly
+succeeded by a look which we care not to analyze,--a look which gave a
+glow to his pale cheek, a wild gleam to his eyes. "You are faint, my
+love," he said, "this will revive you."
+
+Seizing her by the waist, he placed her kerchief upon her mouth,--a
+kerchief which he had raised from the floor, and moistened with liquid
+from the silver vial which he carried in his vest pocket.
+
+"Away! Your touch is pollution!" she cried, struggling in his embrace,
+but the effect of the liquid was instantaneous. Even as she struggled
+her powers of resistance failed, and the images of a delicious dream,
+seemed to pass before her, in soft and rosy light.
+
+The tall wax candles were lighted in the parlor, and upon a table
+covered with a cloth of white velvet was placed a bible and a wreath of
+flowers.
+
+It was the hour of sunset, but the closed curtains shut out the light
+of the declining day, and the light of the wax candles disclosed the
+spacious apartment, its pictures, statues and luxurious furniture. It
+was the hour of the bridal.
+
+Two persons were seated near each other on one of the sofas. The
+preacher who had been summoned to celebrate the marriage,--a grave,
+demure man, with a sad face and iron-gray hair. Of course he wore
+black clothes and a white cravat. Esther arrayed in snow-white, as the
+bridesmaid,--white flowers in her dark hair, and her bosom heaving
+dimly beneath lace which reminded you of a flake of new-fallen snow.
+
+They were waiting for the father, the bridegroom, and the bride.
+
+"It will be a happy marriage, I doubt not," said the preacher, who had
+been gazing out of the corners of his eyes, at the beautiful Esther,
+and who felt embarrassed by the long silence.
+
+But ere Esther could reply, the door was flung abruptly open, and
+Bernard Lynn strode into the room. His hat was in his hand; his cloak
+hung on his arm. His face was flushed; his brow clouded. Not seeming to
+notice the presence of Esther, he advanced to the clergyman,--
+
+"Your services will not be needed, sir," he said, with a polite bow,
+but with flashing eyes. "This marriage will not take place."
+
+Esther started to her feet, in complete astonishment.
+
+Turning to Mr. Hicks, who had followed him into the room, Bernard Lynn
+continued, as he flung his cloak over his shoulders, and drew on his
+gloves,--
+
+"Has the carriage come?"
+
+"Yes, sir,--"
+
+"Are our trunks on behind?"
+
+"Yes, sir,--"
+
+"Have you called my daughter, and told her that I desired her to put on
+her bonnet and cloak, and come to me at once?--"
+
+"I have sent one of the maids up to her room," said Mr. Hicks, whose
+countenance manifested no small degree of astonishment, "but your
+daughter is not in her room."
+
+Mr. Lynn turned his flushed face and clouded brow to Esther,--
+
+"Perhaps you will tell my daughter," he said, with an air of insolent
+_hauteur_ as though speaking to a servant,--"that I desire her to put
+on her things and leave this house with me, immediately--"
+
+How changed his manner, from the kind and paternal tone, in which he
+had addressed her an hour before!
+
+Esther keenly felt the change, and with her woman's intuition, divined
+that a revelation of the fatal truth had been made. Disguising her
+emotion, she said, calmly,--
+
+"You will direct one of the servants to do your bidding. Your daughter
+is doubtless in the library. I saw her going there, with Randolph, only
+a few minutes since,--"
+
+At the name of Randolph, all the rage which shook the muscular frame
+of Bernard Lynn, and which he had but illy suppressed, burst forth
+unrestrained.
+
+"What!" he shouted, "with Randolph! The negro! The negro! The slave!"
+
+"With Randolph, her plighted husband," calmly responded Esther.
+
+"Negress!" sneered Bernard Lynn, almost beside himself, "where is my
+daughter? Will no one call her?"
+
+"Eleanor is coming," said a low deep voice, and Randolph stood before
+the enraged father. He was ashy pale, but there was a light in his eyes
+which can be called by no other name than--infernal.
+
+Even Esther, uttered a cry as she beheld her brother's face.
+
+"Negro!" muttered Bernard Lynn, regarding Randolph in profound
+contempt.
+
+"Well?" Randolph folded his arms, and steadily returned his gaze.
+
+"I have, learned the secret in time, sir, in time," continued Bernard
+Lynn, "I am about to leave this house--"
+
+"Well?" again exclaimed Randolph.
+
+"I have saved her from this horrible match,--"
+
+"Well?" for the third time replied Randolph, in complete _nonchalance_,
+and yet with that infernal light in his eyes.
+
+A step was heard. Can this be Eleanor, who comes across the threshold,
+her dress torn, her bosom bared, her disheveled hair floating about
+that face which seems to have been touched by the hand of death?
+
+Her hands clasped, her eyes downcast, she came on, with unsteady step,
+and sank at her father's feet. She did not once raise her eyes, but
+clasped his knees and buried her face on her bosom.
+
+"Eleanor! Eleanor!" cried Bernard Lynn, "what does all this mean, my
+child?" and he sought to raise her from the floor, but she resisted
+him, and clutched his knees.
+
+"It means that the honor of your daughter was saved once in Italy, by
+Randolph Royalton,--she was grateful, and would have manifested her
+gratitude by giving him her hand in marriage, but she could not do
+that, for there was_--negro blood_ in his veins. So, as she could not
+marry him, she showed her gratitude in the only way left her,--by the
+gift of her person without marriage."
+
+As in a tone of Satanic triumph, Randolph pronounced these words, a
+silence like death fell upon the scene.
+
+Bernard Lynn stood for a moment paralyzed; but Esther came forward with
+flashing eyes,--"O, you miserable coward!" she cried, and with her
+clenched hand struck her brother,--struck Randolph on the forehead.
+
+And turning away from him in scorn, she raised Eleanor in her arms.
+
+Ere he could recover from the surprise which this blow caused him,
+Bernard Lynn reached forward, his hands clenched, his dark face purple
+with rage.
+
+"Wretch! for this you shall die,"--and crushed by the very violence of
+his rage, his agony, he sank insensible at Randolph's feet.
+
+"Our marriage ceremony is postponed for the present,--good evening,
+sir!" said Randolph, turning to the preacher, who had witnessed this
+scene in speechless astonishment. "Mr. Hicks, take care of my friend,
+Lynn, here, and have him put to bed; and you, Esther, take care of
+Eleanor: and as for myself,"--he turned his back upon them all, and
+left the room,--"I think I will go and see my dear brother."
+
+Up-stairs, with the tortures of the damned in his heart,--up-stairs,
+with the infernal light in his eyes,--a moment's pause at the door of
+his brother's room,--and then he flings it open and enters.
+
+Harry Royalton, sitting up in bed, his back against the pillows, was
+reading, by a lamp, which stood on a small table, by the bedside. He
+was reading the parchment, addressed to his father, as one of the
+seven. The light shone on his face, now changed from its usual robust
+hue, to a sickly pallor, as with his large bulging eyes, fixed upon
+the parchment, he quietly smoked a cigar, and by turns passed his
+hands over his bushy whiskers and through his thick curling hair. Weak
+from pain and loss of blood, he still enjoyed his cigar. There was a
+pleasant complacency about his lips. To-morrow was the twenty-fifth of
+December, and to-day--he had foiled all the plans of his slave brother.
+Harry was satisfied with himself The smoke of the Havana floated round
+him and among the curtains of the bed. It was, take it all in all, a
+picture.
+
+It was in this moment of quiet complacency, that Randolph appeared upon
+the scene. Harry looked up,--he caught the glare of his eyes,--and at
+once looked about him for a bowie-knife or pistol. But there were no
+weapons near. With a cry for help, Harry sprang from the bed, clad as
+he was, only in his shirt and drawers. He cried for help, but only
+once, for ere he could utter a second cry, there was a hand upon his
+throat.
+
+"I'm not a brother now,--only a slave,--it was as a brother, last
+night, I spared and saved you,--now I'm only a slave, a negro! But as a
+slave and negro, I am choking you to death!"
+
+Harry might as well have battled with a thunderbolt. Randolph, with the
+madman's fire in his eyes, hears him to the floor, puts his knee upon
+his breast, and tightens his clutch upon his throat. And as a gurgling
+noise sounded in the throat of the poor wretch, Randolph bent his face
+nearer to him, and (to use an all-expressive Scotch word) _glowered_
+upon him with those madman's eyes.
+
+"This time there must be no mistake, brother. The world is large enough
+for many millions of people, but not large enough for us two. You must
+go, Harry,--_master_! You are going! Go and tell your father and mine
+how you treated the children of Herodia! Go!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+THE BRIDALS OF JOANNA AND BEVERLY.
+
+
+It was the night of December the twenty-fifth, 1844.
+
+The mansion of Eugene Livingstone was dark as a tomb. The shutters were
+closed, and crape fluttered on the door.
+
+Within,--in the range of parlors, where, last night, Eugene kissed
+good-bye on the lips of his young and beautiful wife, ere he left for
+Boston,--where, not an hour after, Beverly Barron came and folded the
+young wife to his breast, ere he bore her from her home to a haunt of
+shame,--within a single light is burning. One light alone, in the vast
+mansion, from foundation to roof.
+
+It is a wax candle, placed in the front parlor, on a marble table,
+between a sofa and mirror, which reaches from the ceiling to the floor.
+
+Joanna is sitting there alone, her golden hair neatly arranged about
+her _blonde_ face; her noble form clad in a flowing robe of snowy
+whiteness. She is very beautiful. True, her face is very pale, but her
+lips are red and a flush burns on each cheek. True, beneath each eye
+a faint blue circle may be traced, but the eyes themselves, blue as
+a cloudless sky in June, shine with an intensity that almost changes
+their hue into black in the soft, luxurious light. Joanna is very
+beautiful,--a woman of commanding form and voluptuous bust,--the loose
+robe which she wears, by its flowing folds, gives a new charm, a more
+fascinating loveliness to every detail of her figure.
+
+Holding the evening paper in her right hand, she beats the carpet
+somewhat impatiently with her satin-slippered foot.
+
+Her eye rests upon a paragraph in the evening paper:--
+
+ "AFFAIR IN HIGH LIFE.--There was a rumor about town, to-day, of an
+ affair of honor in high life--among the 'upper ten,'--the truth of
+ which, at the hour of going to press, we are not able, definitely,
+ to ascertain. The parties named are the elegant and distinguished
+ B----y B----n, and E----e L----ng----e, a well-known member of the old
+ aristocracy, in the upper region of the city. A domestic difficulty is
+ assigned as the cause; and one of the parties is stated to have been
+ severely, if not mortally, wounded. By to-morrow we hope to be able to
+ give the full particulars."
+
+Joanna read this paragraph, and her glance dropped, and she remained
+for a long time buried in deep thought.
+
+"Will he come?" she said at length, as if thinking aloud.
+
+The silence of the vast mansion was around her, but it did not seem to
+fill her with awe. She remained sitting on the sofa, the evening paper
+in her hand, and her face impressed with profound thought.
+
+"Hark!" she ejaculated, as a faint noise was heard in the hall without.
+She started, but did not rise from the sofa.
+
+The door opened stealthily, with scarcely a perceptible sound, and a
+man clad in a rough overcoat, with great white buttons, a cap drawn
+over his brow, and a red neckerchief wound about the collar of his
+coat, came silently into the room and approached Joanna.
+
+"Who are you?" she cried, as if in alarm,--"Your business here?"
+
+"Joanna, dearest Joanna," cried a familiar voice, "and has my disguise
+deceived you? It deceived the police, but I did not think that it could
+deceive you!"
+
+The overcoat, cap and neckerchief were thrown aside, and in an instant
+Beverly Barron was kneeling at Joanna's feet. His tall and not
+ungraceful form clad in blue coat, with bright metal buttons, white
+vest, black pantaloons, and patent leather boots, he wore a diamond
+pin, and a heavy gold chain. His whole appearance was that of a
+gentleman of leisure, dressed for the opera or a select evening party.
+His face was flushed, his eyes sparkling, and the flaxen curls which
+hung about his brow, emitted an odor of cologne or _patchouilli_.
+
+"I had to come,--I could not stay away from you, dearest," he said,
+looking up passionately into her face. "All day long, I have dodged
+from place to place, determined to see you to-night or die."
+
+She gave him her hand, and looking into the opposite mirror, saw that
+she was very pale, but still exceedingly beautiful.
+
+"To risk so much for--my sake," she said, and threaded his curls with
+her delicate hand, and at the same time one of those smiles which set
+the blood on fire, animated her lips, and disclosed her white teeth.
+
+"You are beautiful as an angel, I vow," exclaimed Beverly, and then
+glancing round the vast apartment,--"Are we all alone?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, all alone," she replied, "the servants were discharged this
+morning,--all, save my maid, and she has retired by my orders."
+
+"No danger of any one calling?"
+
+"None."
+
+"You are sure, dearest?"
+
+"No one will call. You are safe, and we are alone, Beverly!" again that
+smile, and a sudden swell of the bosom.
+
+"The body,--the body----"
+
+"Is at my father, the general's,"--she replied to the question before
+it passed his lips.
+
+"Then, indeed, dearest, we are alone, and we can talk of our
+future,--_our_ future. We must come to a decision, Joanna, and soon."
+
+And half raising himself, as she lowered her head, he pressed his kiss
+on her lips.
+
+"O, I do so long to talk with you, Beverly," she murmured.
+
+"To-morrow, dearest, I will be placed in possession of an immense
+fortune. You have heard of the Van Huyden estate?"
+
+She made a sign in the affirmative.
+
+"I am the heir of one-seventh of that immense estate. All the obstacles
+in the way of the seven heirs (as I was informed to-day) are removed.
+To-morrow the estate will be divided; I will receive my portion without
+scarcely the chance of disappointment; and next day----"
+
+He paused; she bent down until he felt her breath on his face,--"Next
+day?" she whispered.
+
+"We will sail for Europe. A palace, in Florence, my love, or in Venice,
+or some delightful nook of Sicily, where, apart from the world, in an
+atmosphere like heaven, we can live for each other. What say you to
+this, Joanna?"
+
+"But you forget," she faltered, "the recent circumstance,----" her face
+became flushed, and then deathly pale.
+
+"Can you live under your father's eye after what has happened?" he
+whispered.--"Think of it,--he will loathe the sight of you, and make
+your life a hell!"
+
+"He will indeed,"--and she dropped her head upon her proud bosom.
+
+"And your brother,--does he not thirst for my blood?"
+
+"Ah! does he?" she cried, with a look of alarm.
+
+"And yet, Joanna, I was forced into it. I did all I could to avoid it.
+I even apologized on the ground, and offered to make reparation."
+
+"You offered to make reparation?" she cried, "that was, indeed, noble!"
+and an indescribable smile lighted her features.
+
+"Joanna, dear, I have suffered so much to-day, that I am really faint.
+A glass of that old Tokay, if you please, my love."
+
+She answered him with a smile, and rising from the sofa, passed
+into the darkness of the second parlor, separated from the first by
+folding-doors.
+
+"A magnificent woman, by Jove!" soliloquized Beverly, as he remarked
+her noble form.
+
+After a few moments she appeared again, bearing a salver of solid
+gold, on which was placed a decanter and goblet, both of Bohemian
+glass,--rich scarlet in color, veined with flowers of purple, and blue,
+and gold.
+
+Never had she seemed more beautiful than when standing before him, she
+presented the golden salver, with one of those smiles, which gave a
+deeper red to her lips, a softer brightness to her eyes.
+
+He filled the capacious goblet to the brim--for a moment regarded the
+wine through the delicate fabric, with its flowers of blue, and purple,
+and gold,--and then drained it at a draught.
+
+"Ah!"--he smacked his lips,--"that is delicious!"
+
+"Eugene's father imported it some twenty years ago," said Joanna,
+placing the salver on the table. "Come, Beverly, I want to talk with
+you."
+
+Following the bewitching gesture which she made with her half-lifted
+hand, Beverly rose, and gently wound his arm about her waist.
+
+"Come, let us walk slowly up and down these rooms, now in light and now
+in darkness, and as we walk we can talk freely to each other."
+
+And they walked, side by side, over the carpet, through that splendid
+_suite_ of rooms, where gorgeous furniture, pictures, statues, all
+spoke of luxury and wealth. Hand joined in hand, his arm about her
+waist, her head drooping to his shoulder, and her bosom throbbing near
+and nearer to his breast, they glided along; now coming near the light
+in the front room, and now passing into the shadows which invested the
+other rooms. It was a delightful, nay, an intoxicating _tête-à-tête_.
+
+"I was thinking, this evening," she said, as they passed from the
+light, "of the history of our love."
+
+"Ah, dearest!"
+
+"It seems an age since we first met, and yet it's only a year."
+
+"Only a year!" echoed Beverly, as they paused in a nook where a
+delicious twilight prevailed.
+
+"Eugene presented you to me a year ago, as his dearest friend,--his
+most tried and trusted friend. Do you remember, Beverly?"
+
+He drew her gently to him,--there was a kiss and an embrace.
+
+"You discovered his infidelity. You brought me the letters written
+to him by the person in Boston, for whom he proved unfaithful to me.
+You brought them from time to time, and it was your sympathy with my
+wounded pride,--my trampled affection,--which consoled me and kept me
+alive. It was, Beverly."
+
+"O, you say so, dearest," and as they came into light again, he felt
+her breast throbbing nearer to his own.
+
+For a moment they paused by the table, whereon the wax candle was
+burning, its flame reflected in the lofty mirror. Her face half-averted
+from the light, as her head drooped on his shoulder, she was
+exceedingly beautiful.
+
+"Beverly," she whispered, and placed her arm gently about his
+neck,--the touch thrilled him to the heart,--"you knew me, young,
+confiding, ignorant of the world. You took pity on my unsuspecting
+ignorance, and day by day, yes hour by hour, in these very rooms, you
+led me on, to see the full measure of my husband's guilt, and at the
+same time led me to believe in you, and love you."
+
+She paused, and passed her hand gently among his flaxen curls.
+
+"Ah, love, you are as good as you are beautiful!" he whispered.
+
+"Before you spoke thus, I had no thought save of my duty to Eugene."
+
+"Eugene, who betrayed you!"
+
+"Yes, to Eugene, who betrayed me, and to my child. After you spoke,
+I saw life in a new light. The world did not seem to me, any longer,
+to be the scene of dull quiet home-like duty, but of pleasure,--mad,
+passionate pleasure,--may be, illicit pleasure, purchased at any cost.
+And letter after letter which you brought me, accompanied by proof
+which I could not doubt, only served to complete the work,--to wean
+me from my idol,--false, false idol, Eugene,--and to teach me that
+this world was not so much made for dull every-day duty, as for those
+pleasures which, scorning the laws of the common herd, develop into
+active life every throb of enjoyment of which we are capable."
+
+"Yes, yes, love," interrupted Beverly, pressing his lips to hers.
+
+"And thus matters wore on, until you brought me the last, the damning
+letter. He was going to Boston to see his dying brother,--so he
+pretended,--but in reality to see the woman for whom he had proved
+faithless to me. When you brought me this letter I was mad,--mad,--O,
+Beverly----"
+
+"It was enough to drive you mad!"
+
+"And yesterday, impelled by some vague idea of revenge, I consented to
+go with you to a place, where, as you said, we would see something of
+the world,--where, in the excitement of a masked ball, I might forget
+my husband's faithlessness, and at the same time show that I did not
+care for his authority. Some idea of this kind was in my mind, and
+last night when he kissed me, and so coolly lied to me, before his
+departure, O, then Beverly, then, I was cut to the quick. You came
+after he had gone, and,--and--I went with you--"
+
+"You did dearest Joanna," said Beverly, pressing her closer to his side.
+
+They passed from the light into the shadows together.
+
+"And there, you know what happened there," she said, as they stood
+in the darkness. She clung nearer and nearer to him. "But you know,
+Beverly, you know, that it was not until my senses were maddened by
+wine," her voice grew low and lower,--"that I gave my person to you."
+
+In the darkness she laid her head upon his breast, and put her arms
+about his neck, her bosom all the while throbbing madly against his
+chest.
+
+"O, you know, that in the noble letters, which you wrote to me from
+time to time--letters breathing a pure spiritual atmosphere,--you spoke
+of your love for me as something far above all common loves, refined
+and purified, and separate from all thought of physical impurity. And
+yet,--and yet,--last night when half crazed by jealousy, I went with
+you to the place which you named, you took the moment, when my senses
+were completely delirious with wine, to treat me as though I had been
+your wife, as though you had been the father of my child."
+
+She sobbed aloud, and would have fallen to the floor had he not held
+her in his arms.
+
+"O, Joanna, you vex yourself without cause," he said, soothingly,--"I
+love you,--you know I love you--"
+
+"O, but would it not be a dreadful thing, if you had been deceived in
+regard to these letters!"
+
+"Deceived?"
+
+"Suppose, for instance, some one had forged them, and imposed them upon
+you as veritable letters--"
+
+"Forged? This is folly my love."
+
+"In that case, you and I would be guilty, O, guilty beyond power of
+redemption, and Eugene would be an infamously murdered man."
+
+"Dismiss these gloomy thoughts. The letters were true--"
+
+"O, you are certain,--certain--"
+
+"I swear it,--swear it by all I hold dear on earth or hope hereafter."
+
+"O, do not swear, Beverly. Who could doubt _you_?"
+
+They passed toward the light again. She wiped the tears from her
+eyes--those eyes which shone all the brighter for the tears.
+
+"And the day after to-morrow," said Beverly, as he rested his hand upon
+her shoulder,--"we will leave for Italy--"
+
+"You have been in Italy?" asked Joanna.
+
+"O, yes dearest, and Italy is only another name for Eden," he replied,
+growing warm, even eloquent--"there far removed from a cold, a
+heartless world, we will live, we will die together!"
+
+"Would it not," she said, in a low whisper, as with her hand on
+his shoulders and her bosom beating against his own, she looked up
+earnestly into his face, "O, would it not be well, could we but die
+at this moment,--now, when our love is in its youngest and purest
+bloom,--die here on this cold earth, only to live again, and live with
+each other in a happier world?"
+
+And in her emotion, she wound her aims convulsively about his neck and
+buried her face upon his breast.
+
+"Dismiss these gloomy thoughts,"--he kissed her forehead--"there are
+many happy hours before us in this world, Joanna. Think not of death--"
+
+"O, do you know, Beverly," she raised her face,--it was radiant with
+loveliness--"that I love to think of death. Death, you know, is such a
+test of sincerity. Before it falsehood falls dumb and hypocrisy drops
+its mask--"
+
+"Nay, nay you must dismiss these gloomy thoughts. You know I love
+you--you know--"
+
+He did not complete the sentence, but they passed into the darkness
+again, his arms about her waist, her head upon his shoulder.
+
+And there, in the gloom, he pressed her to his breast, and as she clung
+to his neck, whispered certain words, which died in murmurs on her ear.
+
+"No, no, Beverly," she answered, in a voice, broken by emotion, "it
+cannot be. Consider--"
+
+"Cannot be? And am I not all to you?" he said, impassionately,--"Yes,
+Joanna, it must be--"
+
+There was a pause, only broken by low murmurs, and passionate kisses.
+
+"Come then," she said, at last, "come, _husband_--"
+
+Without another word, she took him by the hand, and led him from the
+room out into the darkened hall. Her hand trembled very much, as she
+led him through the darkness up the broad stairway. Then a door was
+opened and together they entered the bed-chamber.
+
+It is the same as it was last night. Only instead of a taper a wax
+candle burns brightly before a mirror. The curtains still fall like
+snow-flakes along the lofty windows, the alabaster vase is still filled
+with flowers,--they are withered now,--and from the half-shadowed
+alcove, gleams the white bed, with curtains enfolding it in a snowy
+canopy.
+
+Trembling, but beautiful beyond the power of words,--beautiful in the
+flush of her cheeks, the depth of her gaze, the passion of her parted
+lips,--beautiful in every motion of that bosom which heaved madly
+against the folds which only half-concealed it,--trembling, she led him
+toward the bed.
+
+"My marriage bed," she whispered, and laid her hand upon the closed
+curtains.
+
+Beverly was completely carried away by the sight of her passionate
+loveliness--"Once your marriage bed with a false husband," he said, and
+laid his hand also upon the closed curtains, "now your marriage bed
+with a true husband, who will love you until death--"
+
+And he drew aside the curtains.
+
+Drew aside the curtains, folding Joanna passionately to his breast,
+and,--fell back with a cry of horror. Fell back, all color gone from
+his face, his features distorted, his paralyzed hands extended above
+his head.
+
+Joanna did not seem to share his terror for she burst into a fit of
+laughter.
+
+"Our marriage bed, love," she said, "why are you so cold?" and again
+she laughed.
+
+But Beverly could not move nor speak. His eyes were riveted to the bed.
+
+Within the snowy curtains, was stretched a corpse, attired in the
+white garment of the grave. Through the parted curtains, the light
+shone fully on its livid face, while the body was enveloped in half
+shadow,--shone fully on the white forehead with its jet-black hair,
+upon the closed lids, and--upon the dark wound between the eyes. The
+agony of the last spasm was still upon that face, although the hands
+were folded tranquilly on the breast. Eugene Livingstone was sleeping
+upon his marriage bed,--sleeping, undisturbed by dreams.
+
+Joanna stood there, holding the curtain with her uplifted hand, her
+eyes bright, her face flushed with unnatural excitement. Again she
+laughed loud and long--the echoes of her laughter sounded strangely in
+that marriage chamber.
+
+"What,--what does this mean?" cried Beverly, at last finding words--"is
+this a dream----a----" He certainly was in a fearful fright, for he
+could not proceed.
+
+"Why, so cold, love?" she said, smiling, "it is our marriage bed, you
+know--"
+
+"Joanna, Joanna," he cried,--"are you mad?" and in his fright, he
+looked anxiously toward the door.
+
+She took a package from her breast and flung it at his feet.
+
+"Go," she cried, "but first take up your _forged_ letters--"
+
+"Forged letters?" he echoed.
+
+"Forged letters," she answered,--her voice was changed,--her manner
+changed,--there was no longer any passion on her face,--pale as marble,
+her face rigid as death, she confronted him with a gaze that he dared
+not meet. "Go!" she cried, "but take with you your forged letters. Yes,
+the letters which you forged, and which you used as the means of my
+ruin. You have robbed me of my honor, robbed me of my husband,--your
+work is complete--go!"
+
+Her face was white as the dress which she wore,--she pointed to the
+threshold.
+
+"Joanna, Joanna," faltered Beverly.
+
+"Not a word, not a word, villain, villain without remorse or shame! I
+am guilty, and might excuse myself by pleading your treachery. But
+I make no excuse. But for you,--for you,--where is the excuse? You
+have dishonored the wife,--made the child fatherless,--your work is
+complete! Go!"
+
+Beverly saw that all his schemes had been unraveled; conscious of his
+guilt, and conscious that everything was at an end between him and
+Joanna, he made a desperate attempt to rally his usual self-possession;
+or, perhaps, impudence would be the better word.
+
+He moved to the door, and placed his hand upon the lock.
+
+"Well, madam, as you will," he said, and bowed. "Under the
+circumstances, I can only wish you a very good evening."
+
+He opened the door.
+
+"Hold!" she cried in a voice that made him start.--"Your work is
+complete, but so, also, is mine--"
+
+She paused; her look excited in him a strange curiosity for the
+completion of the sentence. "You will not long enjoy your triumph. You
+have not an hour to live. The wine which you drank was poisoned."
+
+Beverly's heart died in him at these words. A strange fever in his
+veins, a strange throbbing at the temples, which he had felt for an
+hour past, and which he had attributed to the excitement resulting from
+the events of the day, he now felt again, and with redoubled force.
+
+"No,--no,--it is not so," he faltered.--"Woman, you are mad,--you had
+not the heart to do it."
+
+"Had not the heart?" again she burst into a loud laugh,--"O, no, I was
+but jesting. Look here,"--she darted to the bed, flung the curtain
+aside, and disclosed the lifeless form of her husband,--"and here!"
+gliding to another part of the room, she gently drew a cradle into
+light, and throwing its silken covering aside, disclosed the face of
+her sleeping child,--that cherub boy, who, as on the night previous,
+slept with his rosy cheek on his bent arm, and the ringlets of his
+auburn hair tangled about his forehead, white as alabaster. "And now
+look upon me!" she dilated before him like a beautiful fiend; "we are
+all before you,--the dead husband, the dishonored wife, the fatherless
+child,--and yet I had not the heart,"--she laughed again.
+
+Beverly heard no more. Uttering a blasphemous oath, he rushed from the
+room.
+
+And the babe, awakened by the sound of voices, opened its clear,
+innocent eyes, and reached forth its baby hands toward its mother.
+
+Urged forward by an impulse like madness, Beverly entered the rooms on
+the first floor, seized the rough overcoat and threw it on, passing the
+red neckerchief around its collar, to conceal his face. Then drawing
+the cap over his eyes, he hurried from the house.
+
+"It's all nonsense," he muttered, and descended the steps.--"I'll walk
+it off."
+
+Walk it off! And yet the fever burned the more fiercely, his temples
+throbbed more madly, as he said the words. Leaving behind him the
+closed mansion of Eugene Livingstone, with the crape fluttering on the
+door, he bent his steps toward Broadway.
+
+"I'm nervous," he muttered.--"The words of that dev'lish hysterical
+woman have unsettled me. How cold it is!" He felt cold as ice for a
+moment, and the next instant his veins seemed filled with molten fire.
+
+He hurried along the dark street toward Broadway. The distant lights at
+the end of the street, where it joined Broadway, seemed to dance and
+whirl as he gazed upon them; and his senses began to be bewildered.
+
+"I've drank too much," he muttered.--"If I can only reach Broadway, and
+get to my hotel, all will be right."
+
+But when he reached Broadway, it whirled before him like a great sea
+of human faces, carriages, houses and flame, all madly confused, and
+rolling through and over each other.
+
+The crowd gave way before him, as he staggered along.
+
+"He's drunk," cried one.
+
+"Pitch into me that way ag'in, old feller, and I'll hit you," cried
+another.
+
+It was Christmas Eve, and Broadway was alive with light and motion; the
+streets thronged with vehicles, and the sidewalks almost blocked up
+with men, and women, and children; the lamps lighted, and the shops and
+places of amusement illuminated, as if to welcome some great conqueror.
+But Beverly was unconscious of the external scene. His fashionable
+dress, concealed by his rough overcoat, and his face hidden by his cap
+and red neckerchief, he staggered along, with his head down and his
+hands swaying from side to side. There was a roaring as of waves or of
+devouring flame in his ears. A red haze was before his eyes; and the
+scenes of his whole life came up to him at once, even as a drowning
+man sees all his life, in a focus, before the last struggle,--there
+were the persons he had known, the adventures he had experienced, the
+events of his boyhood, and the triumphs and shames of his libertine
+manhood,--all these came up to him, and confronted him as he hurried
+along. Three faces were always before him,--the dead face of Eugene,
+the pale visage of Joanna, her eyes flaming with vengeance, and,--the
+innocent countenance of his motherless daughter.
+
+And thus he hurried along.
+
+"Old fellow, the stars'll be arter you," cried one in the crowd,
+through which he staggered on.
+
+"My eyes! ain't he drunk?"
+
+"Don't he pay as much attention to one side o' the pavement as the
+tother?"
+
+"Did you ever see sich worm fence as he lays out?"
+
+There was something grotesquely horrible in the contrast between his
+real condition, and the view which the crowd took of it.
+
+At length, not knowing whither he went, he turned from the glare and
+noise of Broadway into a by-street, and hurried onward,--onward,
+through the gloom, until he fell.
+
+In a dark corner of the street, behind the Tombs, close to the stones
+of that gloomy pile, he fell, and lay there all night long, with no
+hand to aid him, no eye to pity him.
+
+He was found, on Christmas morning, stiff and cold; his head resting
+against the wall of the Tombs, his body covered with new-fallen snow. A
+pile of bricks lay on one side of him, a heap of boards on the other.
+This was the death-couch of the dashing Beverly Barron!
+
+How he died, no one could tell; it was supposed that he had poisoned
+himself from remorse at the death of Eugene Livingstone.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As Beverly hurried from the room, the babe in the cradle opened its
+clear, innocent eyes, and reached forth its baby hands toward its
+mother.
+
+She took it, and stilled it to rest upon her bosom: and then came to
+the bed and sat down upon it, near her dead husband.
+
+"Eugene, Eugene!" she gently put her hand upon his cold forehead,--"let
+me talk to you,--I will not wake you,--let me talk to you, as you
+sleep. I am guilty, Eugene, you know I am,--you cannot forgive me,--I
+do not ask forgiveness; but you'll let me be near you, Eugene? You
+will not spurn me from you? This is our child, Eugene,--don't you
+know him?--O, look up and speak to him. Don't,--don't be angry with
+him,--his mother is a poor, fallen fallen thing, but don't be angry
+with our child!"
+
+She did not weep. Her eyes, large and full of light, were fixed upon
+her husband's face. Cradling her babe upon her bosom, she sat there all
+night long, talking to Eugene, in a low, whispering voice, as though
+she wished him to hear her, and yet was afraid to awake him from a
+pleasant slumber. The light went out, but still she did not move. She
+was there at morning light, her baby sleeping on her breast, and her
+hand laid upon her dead husband's forehead.
+
+And at early morning light, her father came,--the gray-haired man,--his
+face frowning, and his heart full of wrath against his daughter.
+
+"What do you here?" he said, sternly. "This is no place for you. There
+is to be an inquest soon. You surely do not wish to look upon the ruin
+you have wrought?"
+
+As though she was conscious of his presence, but had not heard his
+words, she turned her face over her shoulder,--that colorless face,
+lighted by eyes that still burned with undimmed luster,--and said,--
+
+"Do you know, father. I have been talking with Eugene, and he has
+forgiven me!"
+
+The voice, the look melted the old man's heart.
+
+He fell upon the bed, and wept.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+AN EPISODE.
+
+Here, my friend, let us take a breathing spell in this, our dark
+history. Horrors crowd fast and thick upon us,--horrors, not born of
+romance, but of that under-current of real life, which rolls on
+evermore, beneath the glare and uproar of the Empire City. We do not
+wish to write them down,--shudder sometimes and drop the pen as we
+describe them,--and ask ourselves, "Can these things really be? Is
+not the world all song and sunshine? Does that gilded mask which we
+call by the name of Civilization,--the civilization of the nineteenth
+century,--only hide the features of a corpse?" And the answer to these
+queries comes to us in the columns of every daily paper; in the record
+of every day's farces and crimes; in the _unwritten_ history of those
+masses, who, while we write, are slowly serving their apprenticeship
+of hardship and starvation, in order that at last they may inherit
+a--grave.
+
+Ah, it is the task of the author who writes a book, traversing a field
+so vast as is attempted in the present work, not to exaggerate, but to
+soften, the perpetual tragedies of every day. He dares not tell all
+the truth; he can only vaguely hint at those enormous evils which are
+the inevitable result,--not of totally depraved human nature, for such
+a thing never existed,--but of a social system, which, false alike to
+God and man, does perpetually _tempt_ one portion of the human race
+with immense wealth, as it _tempts_ another portion with immeasurable
+poverty.
+
+But let us leave these dark scenes for a little while. Let us breathe
+where crime does not poison the air. It is June, and the trees are
+in full leaf, and through canopies of green leaves, the brooks are
+singing their summer song. Come out with me into the open country,
+where every fleeting cloud that turns its white bosom to the sun, as it
+skims along the blue, shall remind us, not of crime and blood, but of
+thankfulness to God, that summer is on the land, and that we are alive.
+Come,--without object, save to drink at some wayside spring,--without
+hope, other than to lose ourselves among the summer boughs,--let us
+take a stroll together.
+
+Out in the country, near a dusty turnpike, and a straight, hot railroad
+track,--but we'll leave the turnpike, which is well scattered with
+young gentlemen in high shirt-collars, who drink clouds of dust, and
+drive hired horses to death,--and we'll leave the railroad where the
+steam engine, like a tired devil, comes blowing and swearing, with red
+coals in its mouth, and a cloud of brimstone smoke about its head.
+We'll climb the rails of yonder gray old fence, and get us straightway
+into the fields; not much have we to show you there. A narrow path
+winds among tangled bushes and clumps of dwarfed cedar trees; it shows
+us, here a grassy nook, hidden in shade, and there a rough old rock,
+projecting its bald head in the sun; and then it goes winding down and
+down, until you hear the singing of the brook. Where that brook comes
+from, you cannot tell; yonder it is hidden under a world of leaves;
+here it sinks from view under a bridge curiously made up of stone, and
+timber, and sod; a little to your right it comes into light, dashing
+over cool rocks and forming little lakes all over beds of smooth gray
+sand. Follow the path and cross the bridge; we stand in the shade
+of trees, that are scattered at irregular intervals, along the side
+of a hill. Here a willow near the brook, with rank grass about its
+trunks; there a poplar with a trunk like a Grecian column, and leaves
+like a canopy; and farther on, a mass of oaks, chesnuts, and maples,
+grouped together, their boughs mingling, and a thicket of bushes and
+vines around their trunks. So you see, we stand at the bottom of an
+amphitheater, one side of which is forest, the other low brushwood;
+beyond the brushwood, a distant glimpse of another forest, and in the
+center of the scene, the hidden brooklet singing its June-day song.
+
+You look above, and the blue sky is set in an irregular frame of
+leaves,--leaves now shadowed by a cloud, and now dancing in the sun.
+
+Let us stretch ourselves upon this level bit of sod, where all is shade
+and quiet, and----
+
+Think? No, sir. Do not think that there is such a creature as a bad
+man, or a crime in the world. But drink the summer air,--drink the
+freshness of foliage and flowers,--lull yourself with the song of the
+brook,--look at the blue sky, and feel that there is a God, and that he
+is good.
+
+You may depend you will feel better after it. If you don't, why, it is
+clear that your mind is upon bank stock, or politics,--and there's not
+much hope of you.
+
+Thus, stretched in the shade, at the bottom of this leafy amphitheater,
+you'll wrap yourself in summer, and forget the world, which, beyond
+that wall of trees, is still at its old work,--swearing, lying,
+fretting, loving, hating, and rushing on all the while at steam-engine
+speed.
+
+You won't care who's President, or who robbed the treasury of half
+a million dollars. You'll forget that there is a Pope who washed
+his hands in the blood of brave men and heroic women. You'll not be
+anxious about the rate of stock; whether money is tight or easy, shall
+not trouble you one jot. Thus resting quietly at the bottom of your
+amphitheater in the country, you'll feel that you are in the church of
+God, which has sky for roof, leaves for walls, grassy sod for floor,
+and for music,--hark! Did you ever hear organ or orchestra that could
+match _that_? The hum of bees, the bubble of brooks, the air rustling
+among the leaves, all woven together, in one dreamy hymn, that melts
+into your soul, and takes you up to heaven, quick as a sunbeam flies!
+
+And when the sun goes behind the trees, and the dell is filled with
+broad gleams of golden light and deep masses of shade, you may watch
+the moon as she steals into sight, right over your head, in the very
+center of the glimpse of blue sky. You may hear the low murmur which
+tells you that the day's work is almost done, and that the solemn night
+has come to wrap you in her stillness.
+
+And ere you leave the dell, just give one moment of thought to those
+you love, whose eyes are shut by the graveyard sod,--think of them,
+not as dead, but as living and beautiful among those stars,--and then
+taking the path over the brook, turn your steps to the world again.
+
+Hark! Here it comes on the steam-engine's roar and whistle,--that
+bustling, hating, fighting world, which, like the steam-engine, rushes
+onward, with hot coals at its heart, and a brimstone cloud above it.
+
+
+
+
+PART SEVENTH.
+
+THE DAY OF TWENTY-ONE YEARS.
+
+DECEMBER 25, 1844.
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+MARTIN FULMER APPEARS.
+
+
+The time was very near. The cycle of twenty-one years was in its last
+hour. It was the last hour of December twenty-fourth, 1844. That hour
+passed, the twenty-one years would be complete.
+
+Darkness and storm were upon the Empire City. The snow fell fast, and
+the wind, howling over the river and the roofs, made mournful music
+among the arches of unfinished Trinity Church. In the gloom, amid the
+falling snow, four persons stood around the family vault of the Van
+Huydens. Even had the storm and darkness failed to cover them from
+observation, they would have been defended from all prying eyes, by the
+crape masks which they wore. The marble slab bearing the name of "VAN
+HUYDEN," was thrust aside, and from the gloom of the vault beneath,
+the coffin was slowly raised into view; the coffin which was inscribed
+with the name of Gulian Van Huyden, and with the all-significant dates,
+December 25th, 1823, and December 25th, 1844.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Meanwhile, even as the blast howls along the deserted street, let
+us enter the mansion of Ezekiel Bogart, which, as you are aware,
+stands, with its old time exterior, alone and desolate, amid the huge
+structures devoted to traffic.
+
+In the first of the seven vaults,--square in form, and lined with
+shelves from the ceiling to the floor,--Ezekiel Bogart sits alone. The
+hanging lamp diffuses its mild beams around the silent place. Ezekiel
+is seated in the arm-chair, by the table, his form enveloped in the
+wrapper or robe of dark cloth lined with scarlet. The dark skull-cap
+covers the crown of his head; his eyes are hidden by huge green
+glasses, and the large white cravat envelopes his throat and the lower
+part of his face. Leaning forward, his elbow on the table, and his
+cheek upon his hand, which, veined and sinewy, is white as the hand of
+a corpse, Ezekiel Bogart is absorbed in thought.
+
+"I have not seen Gaspar Manuel since last night;" he utters his
+thoughts aloud. "This, indeed, is singular! The hour of the final
+settlement is near, and something definite must be known in regard to
+the lands in California, near the mission of San Luis. What can have
+prevented him from seeing me the second time? Can he have met with an
+accident?"
+
+He rang the bell which lay near his hand; presently, in answer to the
+sound, the aged servant appeared; the same who admitted Gaspar Manuel
+last night, and whose spare form is clad in gray livery, faced with
+black.
+
+"Michael, you remember the foreign gentleman, Gaspar Manuel, who was
+here last night?"
+
+"That very pale man, with long hair, and such dark eyes? Yes, sir."
+
+"You are sure that he has not called here to-day?"
+
+"Sure, sir. I have not laid eyes upon him since last night."
+
+"It is strange!" continued Ezekiel Bogart,--"You have attended to all
+my directions, Michael?"
+
+"The banquet-room is prepared as you ordered it, and all your other
+commands have been carefully obeyed," answered Michael.
+
+"This will be a busy night for you, Michael. From this hour until four
+in the morning, yes, until daybreak, you will wait in the reception
+room below, and admit into the house the persons whose names you will
+find on this card."
+
+Michael advanced and took the card from the hand of his master.
+
+"These persons,--these only,--mark me, Michael," continued Ezekiel,
+in a tone of significant emphasis. "And as they arrive, show them
+up-stairs, into the small apartment, next the banquet-room. Tell each
+one, as he arrives, that I will see him at four o'clock."
+
+Michael bowed, and said, "Just as you direct, I will do."
+
+"One of the persons, however, John Hoffman, otherwise called
+Ninety-One, I wish to see as soon as he arrives. Bring him to this room
+at once. You remember him, a stout, muscular man, with a scarred face?"
+
+"I do. He was here with you a few hours since."
+
+"There is another of the persons named on that card, whom you will
+bring to this room at once; Gaspar Manuel, who was here last night.
+Remember, Michael."
+
+Michael bowed in token of assent, and was about to leave the room, when
+Ezekiel called him back,
+
+"About midnight, four persons, having charge of a box, will come to the
+door and ask for me. Take charge of the box, Michael, and dismiss them.
+Have the box carried up into the banquet-room. You can now retire,
+Michael. I know that you will attend faithfully to all that I have
+given you to do."
+
+"You may rely upon me, sir," said the tried servant, and retired from
+the room.
+
+And, once more alone, Ezekiel rested his cheek on his hand, and again
+surrendered himself to thought.
+
+"The child of Gulian _must_ be found; Ninety-One cannot fail. If he
+is not found before four o'clock, all is lost--all is lost! Yes, if
+that child does not appear, this estate,--awful to contemplate in its
+enormous wealth,--will pass from his grasp, and the labor of twenty-one
+years will have been spent for nothing. The estate will pass into the
+hands of the seven, not one of whom will use his share for anything but
+the gratification of his appetites or the oppression of his kind."
+
+The old man rose, the light shone over his tall figure, bent by age,
+as, placing his hands behind his back, he paced to and fro along the
+floor. He was deeply troubled. An anxiety, heavier than death, weighed
+down his soul.
+
+"The seven,--look at them! Dermoyne is a poor shoemaker. This wealth
+will intoxicate and corrupt him. Barnhurst, a clerical voluptuary,--he
+will use his share to gratify his monomania. Yorke, a swindler, who
+grows rich upon fraud,--his share will enable him to plunge hundreds
+of the wealthiest into utter ruin, and convulse, to its center, the
+whole world of commerce and of industry. Barron,--a fashionable
+sensualist,--he will surround himself with a harem. Godlike, a
+Borgia,--an intellectual demon,--his share will create a world of
+crimes. Harry Royalton, a sensualist, though of a different stamp from
+the others, will expend his in the wine-cup and at the gambling-table.
+There are six of the seven,--truly a worthy company to share the
+largest private estate in the world! As for the seventh, he has gone to
+his account."
+
+Thus meditating, Ezekiel Bogart, slowly paced the floor. He paused
+suddenly, for a thought full of consequences, the most vital, flashed
+over his soul.
+
+"What if Martin Fulmer should refuse to divide the estate? Alas! alas!
+his oath,"--he pressed his hand against his forehead,--"his oath made
+to Gulian Van Huyden, in his last hour, will crush the very thought of
+such a refusal. The Will must be obeyed; yes, strictly, faithfully, to
+the letter, in its most minute details."
+
+Once more resuming his walk, he continued,--
+
+"But the child will be discovered,--the child will be here at the
+appointed hour."
+
+He spoke these words in a tone of profound conviction.
+
+"I trust in Providence; and Providence will not permit this immense
+wealth to pass into the hands of those who will abuse it, and make of
+it the colossal engine of human misery."
+
+After a moment of silent thought, he continued,--
+
+"No,--no,--this wealth cannot pass into the hands of the seven! When
+Gulian, in his last hour, intrusted it to Martin Fulmer, bequeathing
+it, after the lapse of twenty-one years, to seven persons, in different
+parts of the union, he doubtless thought that chance, to say nothing of
+Providence, would find among the number at least four with good hearts
+and large mental vision. He did not think,--he did not dream, that at
+least five out of the seven would prove totally unworthy of his hopes,
+altogether unfit to possess and wield such an incredible wealth. And,
+believing in Providence, I cannot think, for a moment, that He will
+permit this engine of such awful power to pass into hands that will use
+it to the ruin and the degradation of the human race. The child will
+appear, and God will bless that child."
+
+A sound pealed clear and distinct throughout the mansion. It was
+the old clock in the hall, striking the hour. Ezekiel stood as if
+spell-bound, while the sounds rolled in sad echoes through the mansion.
+
+It struck the hour of twelve. The cycle of twenty-one years was
+complete.
+
+The old man sank on his knees, and burying his face in his hands, sent
+up his soul, in a voiceless prayer.
+
+"Come what will, this matter must be left to the hands of Providence,"
+he said, in a low voice, as he rose. "If the child does not appear at
+four o'clock, Martin Fulmer has no other course, than to divide this
+untold wealth among such of the seven as are present. Before morning
+light his trust expires. But,--but,--" and he pressed his clenched
+hands nervously together,--"the child _will_ appear."
+
+Taking up a silver candlestick, he lighted the wax candle which it
+held, and went, in silence, through the seven vaults, (described in a
+previous chapter) which contained the title-deeds, a portion of the
+specie, and the secret police records of the Van Huyden estate.
+
+As he passed from silent vault to silent vault, not a word escaped his
+lips.
+
+He was thinking of the incredible wealth, whose evidences were all
+around him,--of the awful power which that wealth would confer upon
+its possessors,--of Nameless, or Carl Raphael, the son of Gulian Van
+Huyden,--of the appointed hour, now close at hand.
+
+"What if Martin Fulmer should burn every title-deed and record
+here,"--he held the light above his head, as he surveyed the
+vault,--"thus leaving the estate in the hands of the ten thousand
+tenants who now occupy its houses and lands? These parchments once
+destroyed, every tenant would be the virtual owner of the house or lot
+of land which he now occupies. This would create, in fact, ten thousand
+_proprietors_,--perhaps twenty thousand,--instead of seven heirs."
+
+It was a great thought,--a thought which, carried into action, would
+have baptized ten thousand hearts with peace, and filled thrice ten
+thousand hearts with joy unspeakable. But----
+
+"It cannot be. Martin Fulmer must keep his oath. The rest is for
+Providence."
+
+He returned to the first room, or vault, and from a drawer of the
+table, drew forth a bundle of keys.
+
+"I will visit _those rooms_," he said, "and in the meantime Ninety-One
+will arrive with Carl Raphael."
+
+Light in hand, he left the room, and passed along a lofty corridor with
+panneled walls. As the light shone over his tall figure, bent with age,
+and enveloped in a dark robe lined with scarlet, you might have thought
+him the magician of some old time story, on his way to the cell of
+his most sacred vigils, had it not been for his skull-cap, huge green
+glasses, and enormous white cravat; these imparted something grotesque
+to his appearance, and effectually concealed his features, and the
+varying expressions of his countenance.
+
+He placed a key in the lock of a door. It was the door of a chamber
+which no living being had entered for twenty-one years. Ezekiel seemed
+to hesitate ere he crossed the threshold. At length, turning the key in
+the lock,--it grated harshly,--he pushed open the door,--he crossed the
+threshold.
+
+A sad and desolate place! Once elegant, luxurious; the very abode of
+voluptuous wealth, it was now sadder than a tomb. The atmosphere was
+heavy with the breath of years. The candle burned but dimly as it
+encountered that atmosphere, which, for twenty-one years, had not known
+a single ray of sunlight, a single breath of fresh air. A grand old
+place with lofty walls, concealed by tapestry,--three windows looking
+to the street (they had not been opened for twenty-one years) adorned
+with curtains of embroidered lace, a bureau surmounted by an oval
+mirror, chairs of dark mahogany, a carpet soft as down, and a couch
+enshrined in an alcove, with silken curtains and coverlet and pillow,
+yet bearing the impress of a human form. A grand old place, but there
+was dust everywhere; everywhere dust, the breath of years, the wear and
+tear of time. You could not see your face in the mirror; the cobwebs
+covered it like a vail. You left the print of your footsteps upon the
+downy carpet. The purple tapestry, was purple no longer; it was black
+with dust, and the moth had eaten it into rags. The once snow-white
+curtains of the windows, were changed to dingy gray, and the canopy of
+the couch, looked anything but pure and spotless, as the light fell
+over its folds.
+
+Did Ezekiel Bogart hesitate and tremble as he approached that couch?
+
+He held the light above his head,--and looked within the couch. Silken
+coverlet and downy pillow, covered with dust, and bearing still the
+impress of the form which had died there twenty-one years ago.
+
+"Alice Van Huyden!" ejaculated Ezekiel Bogart, as though the dead one
+was present, listening to his every word,--"Here, twenty-one years ago,
+you gave birth to your son, and,--died. Yes, here you gave life to that
+son,--Carl Raphael Van Huyden I must call him,--who, once condemned
+to death,--then buried beside you in the family vault,--then for two
+years the tenant of a mad-house, will at four o'clock, appear and take
+possession of his own name, and of the estate of his father!"
+
+Turning from the bed, Ezekiel approached the bureau. The mirror was
+thick with dust, and in front of it stood an alabaster candlestick--the
+image of a dancing nymph,--now alas! looking more like ebony than
+alabaster. It held a half-burned waxen candle.
+
+"That candle, when lighted last, shone over the death agonies of Alice
+Van Huyden."
+
+Up and down that place, whose very air breathed heart-rending memories,
+the old man walked, his head sinking low and lower on his breast at
+every step.
+
+He paused at length before a portrait, covered with dust. Standing on
+a chair, Ezekiel with the purple tapestry, brushed the dust away from
+the canvas and the walnut frame. The portrait came out into light,
+so fresh, so vivid, so life-like, that Ezekiel stepped hastily from
+the chair as though the apparition of one long dead, had suddenly
+confronted him.
+
+It was a portrait of a manly face, shaded by masses of brown hair.
+There was all the hope of young manhood, in the dark eyes, on the
+cheeks rounded with health, and upon the warm lips full of life and
+love. A fresh countenance; one that you would have taken at sight for
+the countenance of a man of true nobility of heart and soul. It was the
+portrait of Gulian Van Huyden at twenty-one.
+
+For a long time Ezekiel Bogart lingered silently in front of the
+portrait.
+
+At last he left the chamber, locked the door,--first pausing to look
+over his shoulder toward the bed upon which Alice Van Huyden died,--and
+then slowly ascended to the upper rooms of the old mansion.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He came into a small chamber panneled with oak; an oaken pillar,
+crowned with carved flowers, and satyr faces in every corner; and a
+death's head grinning from the center of the oaken ceiling. Once the
+floor, the walls, the ceiling and the pillars, had shone like polished
+steel, but now they were black with dust.
+
+Holding the light above his skull-cap, Ezekiel silently surveyed the
+scene.
+
+Two tressels stood in the center of the floor. These were the only
+objects to break the monotony of the dust-covered floor and walls.
+
+Upon these tressels, twenty-one years before, had been placed a coffin,
+inscribed with the name of Gulian Van Huyden, and the dates,--December
+25th, 1823, and December, 25th, 1844.
+
+Opposite these tressels, a panel had recently been removed, disclosing
+a cavity or recess in the wall. In the recess the iron chest had been
+buried twenty-one years before. It was vacant now,--the iron chest was
+gone.
+
+As the light shone around this place, whose every detail was linked
+with the past, the breast of Ezekiel Bogart heaved with emotion, but no
+word passed his lips. He lingered there a long time.
+
+Through the confined doorway, he passed into the garret nook, whose
+roof was formed by the slope of the heavy rafters, which now were
+hung with cobwebs, while a small window, with heavy frame and narrow
+panes, shook to the impulse of the winter wind. A mahogany desk and an
+old-fashioned arm-chair, stand between the door and the window.
+
+"Here Gulian and Martin Fulmer held their last interview," soliloquized
+Ezekiel, as he stood alone in the dreary garret,--"there stood Gulian,
+there knelt Martin, as he took the oath. Fifteen minutes afterward,
+Gulian was a corpse, and Martin was loaded with the awful trust, which
+he has borne alone for twenty-one years."
+
+He approached the window. All was dark without. Sleet and snow beat
+against the window-pane. The wind howled dismally over the roof; the
+storm was abroad over the city and the bay.
+
+"From this window he saw Manhattan Bay, and the spire of old Trinity.
+Yes, from this window, he pointed out to Martin Fulmer, the windows
+of the Banquet-room, in the western wing of the mansion, as they
+shone with the glad light of the Christmas Festival. It is Christmas
+again,--once more the windows of the banquet-room are lighted,--yes,
+I can see the lights glimmering through the storm, but not for a
+festival. Ah me! what years have passed since those windows were
+lighted for a festival."
+
+Sadly Ezekiel Bogart left the garret, and descending the narrow
+staircase, and passing a corridor, made the best of his way toward
+the lower rooms of the mansion. Impressed to his very soul, with
+the _consciousness_ that he would soon behold the son of Gulian Van
+Huyden--Carl Raphael--he entered the first of the seven vaults, where
+the hanging lamp still shone upon the arm-chair, the shelved walls, and
+the huge table overspread with papers.
+
+Seating himself in the arm-chair, he rang the bell. It was not long
+before the aged servant appeared.
+
+"Has John Hoffman, otherwise called Ninety-One, arrived?"
+
+"No, Sir."
+
+"This, indeed, is strange, very strange!" ejaculated Ezekiel, much
+agitated, "and Gaspar Manuel--has he been here?"
+
+"No, sir," answered Michael, "the four persons with the box have been
+here, and that is all. I had the box carried into the banquet-room."
+
+At a sign from Ezekiel, the aged servant retired.
+
+"Altogether strange! The seven were notified by letter, and by a
+carefully worded advertisement in the daily papers, of the _place_ and
+_hour_ of meeting. And not one arrived! What if they should not appear?"
+
+The sound of the old clock disturbed his meditations.
+One,--two,--three! He had passed three hours in wandering through the
+old mansion. Only a single hour remained.
+
+"Three hours gone!" Ezekiel started from his chair, "no word of
+Ninety-One, Gaspar Manuel, or the seven! It may be," and he felt a
+strange hope kindling in his heart, "that the night will pass and not
+one of the seven appear!"
+
+The words had not passed his lips, when a heavy footstep was heard in
+the corridor, and the door was flung open. A stout muscular form came
+rapidly to the light. It was Ninety-One. His garments were covered
+with snow, and there were stains of blood upon his scarred face. From
+beneath his shaggy eyebrows, knit in a settled frown, his eyes shone
+with a ferocious glare.
+
+"What news?" ejaculated Ezekiel.
+
+Ninety-One struck his clenched hand upon the table, and gave utterance
+to a blasphemous oath.
+
+"News? Hell's full of sich news! Only to think of it! It's enough to
+set a man to wishin' himself safe in jail again. 'Don't give it up so
+easy!' That's what I've said all along. An' I have _not_ give it up
+easy, nayther. And now what's it come to?"
+
+"The Boy,--the son of Gulian Van Huyden," cried Ezekiel, resting his
+hands upon the table.
+
+Ninety-One sank into a chair and wiped the blood from his face.
+
+"You know I tracked the boy all day until I found his quarters in the
+four story buildin', whar there was a dead man?--"
+
+"Yes,--yes,--and you came and told me that you had found his home. The
+people in the room adjoining the one which he occupies, informed you
+that he had gone out with the young girl, but that he would shortly
+return. You came and told me, and then went back to his room to await
+his return, taking with you a letter from me--"
+
+"I went back, and waited, and waited, havin' no company but the dead
+man, until dark. Then I sallied out, and went to the house, where we
+all was last night. I'd a hard time to get in, but git in I did,--and
+jist too late--"
+
+"Too late?--"
+
+"The boy and the gal had been thar, and they'd jist gone. One of the
+folks in livery show'd me which way,--'down the street toward the
+river, and only five minutes ago,' says he. Down the street I put, and
+by this time the snow was fallin' and the wind blowin' a harrycane.
+Down the street I put, and when I came near the river, I heer'd a woman
+cry out, 'help! murder!' Mind, I tell you, I lost no time, but made
+straight for the pier, an' thar I find the gal, wringin' her hands an'
+p'intin' to the river--"
+
+"And the boy--the son of Gulian?--"
+
+"Four fellers had come behind him, as he was about turnin' into the
+street in which he lived,--they had dragged him from her,--she follered
+them on to the pier, cryin', 'help! murder!' and they'd tied him,
+and put him into a boat and made out into the river. As she told me
+this story, I looked about me for a boat,--thar wasn't a boat to be
+seen,--so I detarmined to jump in and swim arter 'em anyhow, though the
+river was full of ice and the wind a-blowin' like Lucifer--"
+
+"You leaped into the river?"
+
+"No, I did not. For as the gal stood cryin', an' moanin', an' p'intin',
+out into the dark thick night, the boat came back, and the four gallus
+birds jumped on the wharf--"
+
+"And the child,--O, my God! the son of Gulian?--"
+
+"They'd hove him overboard!"
+
+The old man uttered a heart-rending groan, and raised his hands to
+heaven.
+
+"Fatality!" he cried.
+
+"I made at 'em at once,--and we j'ined in, four to one, teeth an'
+toe nails. 'Don't give it up so easy!' I said, but what's the use o'
+talkin'? I broke a jaw for one of 'em an' _caved the crust in_ for
+another; but I wa'n't a match for slung-shot behind the ear. They
+knocked me stoopid. An' when I opened my eyes again, I found myself in
+their hands, arrested on the charge o' havin' murdered young Somers,
+an' o' robbin' Isr'el Yorke. They tied me, took me to a room up town,
+whar they war j'ined by Blossom,--they tried to gouge money out o' me,
+but as I hadn't any, it wa'n't so easy. When they got tired o' that,
+I purtended to sleep, an' overheer'd their talk. The hansum Colonel,
+Tarleton, my pertikler friend, had hired the four to waylay _the boy_,
+and carry him out into the river. Blossom didn't know anythin' about
+it; he swore like a fiery furnace when they told him of it. Arter a
+while, as I found they were goin' to take me to the Tombs if they
+couldn't git any money out o' me, I broke for the door, and came away
+in a hurry, an' here I am."
+
+"And the child of Gulian is gone! Fatality! Fatality!" groaned Ezekiel
+Bogart.
+
+"In the river,--tied and gagged,--in the river," sullenly replied
+Ninety-One; and the next moment he uttered a wild cry and leaped to his
+feet.
+
+Ezekiel Bogart had removed the skullcap, the green glasses and the huge
+cravat. In place of a countenance obscured by a grotesque disguise,
+appeared a noble face, a broad forehead, rendered venerable by masses
+of snow-white hair. His beard, also white as snow, left bare the
+outlines of his massive chin and descended upon his breast. And sunken
+deep beneath his white eyebrows, his large eyes shone with the light of
+a great intellect, a generous heart. It was indeed a noble head. True,
+his mouth was large, and the lips severely set, his large nose bent
+to one side, his cheek-bones high and prominent, but the calm steady
+light of his eyes, the bold outlines of his forehead,--stamped with
+thought, with genius,--gave character to his entire face, and made its
+very deviations from regularity of feature, all the more impressive and
+commanding.
+
+"It is the Doctor!" cried Ninety-One. "Yer ha'r is white and thar's
+wrinkles about yer mouth an' eyes, but I know you, Doctor Martin
+Fulmer."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+THE SEVEN ARE SUMMONED.
+
+
+It was, in truth, that singular man, who in the course of our
+narrative, has appeared as the Judge of the Court of Ten Millions as
+the "man in the surtout, with manifold capes," as Ezekiel Bogart, the
+General Agent; and who, at length, appears in his own character,--Dr.
+Martin Fulmer, the trustee of the Van Huyden estate.
+
+"Be silent, John,"--the Doctor rose and gently waved his hand,--his
+bent form for a moment became straight and erect,--his attitude
+was noble and impressive. "The child whom, twenty-one years ago,
+Gulian Van Huyden intrusted to your care, has, this night,--even as
+the misfortunes of long years were about to be succeeded by peace,
+security, the possession of unbounded wealth,--met his death at the
+instigation of Gulian's brother. Be silent, John, for the shadow of
+almighty fate is passing over us! It was to be, and it was! Who shall
+resist the decrees of Providence? Behold! the fabric which I have spent
+twenty-one years to build, is dust and ruins at my feet!"
+
+There was the dignity of despair in his tone, his look, his every
+attitude.
+
+He slowly moved toward the door.--"Remain here, John, until morning.
+I may want the aid of your arm. The worst has fallen upon me," he
+continued, as though speaking to himself, "and nothing now remains but
+to fulfill the last conditions of my trust, and--to die."
+
+He left the room, and in the darkness, along corridor, and up stairway,
+pursued his way slowly to the banquet-room.
+
+"To this estate I have offered up twenty-one years of my life,--of my
+soul. For it I have denied myself the companionship of a wife, the joy
+of hearing a child call me by the name of 'father!' I have traversed
+the globe in its behalf; made myself a dweller in all lands; have
+left the beautiful domain of that science which loses itself among
+the stars, to make myself a student in the science of human misery,
+in the dark philosophy of human despair. I have made myself the very
+slave of this estate. Believing that one day, its enormous wealth would
+be devoted to the amelioration of social misery, I have made myself
+familiar with the entire anatomy of the social world; have dwelt in the
+very heart of its most loathsome evils; have probed to the quick the
+ulcer of its moral leprosy. But at all times, and in every phase of my
+career, I did hope, that out of this son of Gulian's, cast like a waif
+upon the voyage of life, and made the subject of superhuman misfortune,
+PROVIDENCE would at length mould a good, strong man, with heart and
+intellect, to wield the Van Huyden estate, for the social regeneration
+of his race. My hope is ashes."
+
+With words like these in his soul, only half-uttered on his tongue, he
+opened a door and passed into the banquet-room.
+
+It was brilliantly lighted by an antique chandelier which hung from the
+lofty ceiling. It was arranged for the last scene.
+
+In this banquet-room, twenty-one years ago, there was the sound of
+merry voices, mingled with the clink of wine-glasses; there were hearts
+mad with joy, and faces dressed in smiles; and there was one face
+dressed in smiles, which masked a heart devoured by the tortures of the
+damned.
+
+Now the scene was changed. The doors, windows, the pictures of the Van
+Huyden family which lined the lofty walls, were concealed by hangings
+of bright scarlet. A round table, covered with a white cloth, and
+surrounded by eight antique arm-chairs, alone broke the monotony of
+that vast and brilliantly lighted banquet-hall. The chandelier which
+shone upon the hangings, and lighted up every part of the room, shone
+down upon the white cloth of the table, and upon a single object which
+varied its surface,--a small portfolio, bound in black leather.
+
+In that portfolio were comprised the mysteries of the Van Huyden estate.
+
+Beneath the table, and shaded by it from the light, dimly appeared
+an iron chest, and a coffin covered with black cloth,--both were
+half-concealed beneath a pall of velvet, fringed with tarnished gold.
+
+Martin Fulmer attentively surveyed this scene, and a sudden thought
+seemed to strike him. "It will not do," he said, "let the old place, in
+this hour, put on all its memories."
+
+He rang the bell, and four servants, attired in gray liveries, appeared
+from beneath the hangings. Martin whispered his commands in a low
+voice, and they obeyed without a word. Moving to and fro, without
+uproar, in the course of a few minutes they had completely changed the
+appearance of the hall. Thus changed, the banquet-room has, indeed, put
+on its old memories; it wears the look, it breathes the air of the past.
+
+The light of the chandelier, no longer dazzling, falls in subdued
+radiance around a lofty hall, whose ceiling is supported by eight
+pillars of cedar, grotesquely carved from base to capital, with the
+faces of monks and nuns,--all of the round and oily stamp,--with
+beasts, and birds, and fruits, and flowers. The glaring scarlet
+hangings cluster in festoons around the capitals of the pillars; and
+between the pillars appear, upon the panneled walls, portraits of the
+Van Huyden family, in frames of oak, and walnut, and gilt, for seven
+generations; beginning with the grim face of THE ANCESTOR, who landed
+on Manhattan Island in the year 1620, and ending with the youthful,
+artist-like face of Carl Raphael, painted in 1842. (This portrait of
+Nameless, Martin Fulmer procured from the study of Cornelius Berman.)
+The lofty windows on one side, were hidden by curtains of dark purple.
+At one end of the spacious hall, was a broad hearth, blazing with a
+cheerful wood-fire; at the other, on a dark platform, arose a marble
+image of "THE MASTER," as large as life, and thrown distinctly into
+view by the dark background.
+
+There are two altars covered with black velvet, fringed with gold; one
+on each side of the table. The altar on the right supports the coffin;
+the one on the left, the iron chest; and around coffin and iron chest,
+as for a funeral, tall wax candles are dimly burning.
+
+The dark panneled walls,--the huge pillars, quaintly carved,--the
+pictures, all save one, dim with age,--the hearth and its flame,--the
+white image of the Savior,--the central table, with its eight
+arm-chairs,--the dark altars, with wax candles burning around coffin
+and iron chest,--all combined to present an effect which, deepened by
+the dead stillness, is altogether impressive and ghost-like.
+
+"The place looks like the old time," exclaims Martin Fulmer, slowly
+surveying its every detail,--"and,--"
+
+The sound of the old clock again! How it rings through the
+mansion,--rings, and swells, and dies away! One,--two,--three,--four!
+
+Martin Fulmer sinks into the arm-chair, at the head of the table, and
+from beneath his waistcoat draws forth a parchment,--the last will and
+testament of Gulian Van Huyden.
+
+"There is no other way,--I must begin;" he casts his eyes toward a
+narrow doorway, across which is stretched a curtain. Behind that
+curtain wait the heirs of the Van Huyden estate. The old man, erect in
+his chair, at the head of the table, passes his right hand thoughtfully
+over his broad forehead, and through the masses of his hair, as white
+as snow.
+
+And then directing his gaze toward the doorway, he begins to call the
+names of the Seven:
+
+"Evelyn Somers!"
+
+No answer,--the merchant prince now sleeps a corpse within his palace.
+
+"Beverly Barron!"--the name of the man of fashion resounds through the
+still hall.
+
+But Beverly will never fold in his arms again, the form of a tempted
+and yielding maiden; never place his lips again to the lips of a
+faithless wife, whom he has made false to her marriage vow,--never
+press a father's kiss upon the brow of his motherless child. Beverly
+also has gone to his account.
+
+"Harry Royalton!" exclaimed Martin Fulmer, and again directed his eyes
+toward the door.
+
+Is that his step, the man of the racecourse, the hero of the
+cock-pit and faro-bank? No. It was but a breath of air among the
+window-curtains. But where, in this hour, of all others, is Harry
+Royalton of Hill Royal? It cannot be told. He does not appear.
+
+Martin Fulmer, with something of surprise upon his face, spoke the
+fourth name,--
+
+"Herman Barnhurst!"
+
+Herman, the voluptuous, and the fair-cheeked, and eagle-eyed,--the
+victim of beautiful Marion Merlin,--the husband of outraged Fanny
+Lansdale,--the seducer of poor Alice Burney,--Herman does not answer
+the summons.
+
+A wild hope began to gleam in the deep eyes of Martin Fulmer,--"Four of
+the seven absent,--why not all?" And he called the fifth name; the name
+of one, whom, most of all others, he desired to be present:--
+
+"Arthur Dermoyne!"
+
+Loud and deep it swelled, but there was no reply. Enthusiast and
+mechanic, who, at your work-bench, have laid out plans of social
+regeneration,--who, amid the clatter of hammers, and hum of toil, have
+heard the words of the four gospels, and thought of wealth only as the
+means of putting those words into deeds,--where do you linger at this
+hour? Alas, Dermoyne is silent; he does not appear.
+
+The light in Martin's eyes grew brighter, "Five of the Seven, why not
+all!"
+
+"Gabriel Godlike!" he pronounced the name, and paused in suspense for
+the answer to the summons.
+
+"Here!" cried a voice of thunder, and through the parted curtains,
+the imposing form of the statesman emerged into light. His broad
+chest was clad in a blue coat with bright metal buttons; a white
+cravat made his bronzed face look yet darker; he advanced with a heavy
+stride, his great forehead looming boldly in the light, his eyes deep
+sunken beneath the brows, glaring like living coals. His cheek was
+flushed,--with wine--or with the excitement of the hour?
+
+Ponderous and gloomy and grand, as when he arose to scatter
+thunderbolts through the thronged senate,--attired in the same brown
+coat which he wore on state occasions,--he came to the table, assumed a
+seat opposite Dr. Martin Fulmer, and said in his deepest bass,--"I am
+here, and ready for the final settlement of the Van Huyden estate."
+
+It is no shame to Dr. Fulmer to say, that he had rather confronted
+the entire Seven together, than to have to deal with this man alone.
+"The estate decreed into those hands, which know neither remorse or
+fear?"--he shuddered.
+
+Then he called the seventh name,--
+
+"Israel Yorke!"
+
+No delay this time. With a hop and a spring,--spectacles on nose, and
+sharp gray eyes glancing all about him,--the little financier came
+through the curtain, and advancing to the table, seated himself beside
+Godlike, like Mammon on right of Lucifer.
+
+"And I am here," he said, pulling his whiskers, and then running his
+hand over his bald head,--"Here and ready for the final settlement of
+the Van Huyden estate."
+
+"And is this all?" ejaculated Martin Fulmer; and once more he called
+the names of the Seven. There was no response.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+"SAY, BETWEEN US THREE!"
+
+
+Martin Fulmer uttered a deep sigh, and then gazing upon the
+representatives of Satan and of Mammon he said: "Gentlemen, you know
+the purpose for which you are here?"
+
+"We do," they said, and each one laid his copy of the will on the table.
+
+"The first thing in order, is the reading of the Will," said Martin
+Fulmer solemnly. And while a dead stillness pervaded, he read the will;
+and afterward briefly recounted the circumstances connected with the
+death of the testator.
+
+When he had finished, the silence remained for some moments
+unbroken. The lights flashed upon the smart concealed visage of the
+financier,--the grand Satanic face of the statesman,--the calm face of
+Martin Fulmer, with the bold brow, and hair as white as snow; and as a
+breath of wind moved the lights, they flashed fitfully over the coffin,
+and the iron chest, the cedar pillars, and the marble image.
+
+"There is no son in existence?" asked Israel nervously.
+
+"None," answered Martin in a low voice.
+
+"He did not die in a cause pre-eminent for its sanctity?" asked Gabriel
+in a deep voice.
+
+"It cannot be said that he did," answered Martin, as though questioning
+his own conscience.
+
+"The disposition of this estate, depends then entirely upon your
+integrity, and especially upon your fidelity to your _oath_?"--the
+statesman, as though he knew the chord most sensitive, in the strong
+honest nature of Martin Fulmer, watched him keenly, as he awaited his
+answer.
+
+Martin bowed his head.
+
+"Under those circumstances, it is clear to you, is it not, that the
+estate falls to those of the Seven Heirs, who are now present?"
+
+"If I am faithful to my OATH, such will be my disposition of the
+estate."
+
+"Faithful to your oath?" echoed Godlike.
+
+"That would be highly immoral," said Israel Yorke.
+
+It was in a slow and measured tone, and with his venerable head, placed
+firmly on his shoulders, that Martin Fulmer said,--
+
+"Sir, you know me," to Godlike,--"in the times of the Bank panic, I
+met you in the vestibule of the senate, and had some interesting
+conversation with you. You know that I would sooner die than break
+my word, much less my oath, and of all others, THE OATH which I took
+to Gulian Van Huyden. But may not circumstances arise in which the
+breaking of that oath may be a lighter crime, than strict obedience to
+it?"
+
+Godlike started--Yorke half rose from his chair.
+
+"Reflect for a moment. Circumstances have arisen, which the testator
+could not have ever dreamed of, when he loaded me with this trust,
+under the seal of that awful oath. It was doubtless his wish that
+his estates, swelled by the accumulation of twenty-one years, should
+descend into the hands of his son, who having been reared in poverty
+and hardship, would know how to use this wealth for the good of
+mankind,--or in the absence of his son, that it should be _dispersed_
+for the good of the race, by the hands of seven persons, selected from
+the descendants of the original Van Huyden, and scattered throughout
+the Union. Such was doubtless his idea. But behold how different the
+result. The son is dead. Only two of the Seven are here. Shall I,
+adhering to the letter of the law, to the oath in its strictest sense,
+divide this great estate between you two? Or, fearful of the awful evil
+which you may work to the world, with this untold wealth, shall I--in
+order to avoid this evil,--refuse to divide the estate, and take upon
+myself the moral penalty of the broken oath?"
+
+"That is a question which you must settle with your own conscience,"
+said Godlike slowly, as he fixed his gaze upon Martin Fulmer's face.
+
+Was he aware of the one weak point in the strong, bold mind of Dr.
+Martin Fulmer? Did he know of Dr. Martin Fulmer's fear and horror
+of--the unpardonable sin?
+
+Martin did not reply, but leaned his head upon his hand, and seemed
+buried in thought.
+
+"In order to understand my position, reflect,--twenty-one years ago,
+the estate was but two millions; behold it now!" He unlocked the
+portfolio, and drew forth two half sheets of foolscap, covered with
+writing in a delicate but legible hand. "There is a brief statement of
+the estate as it stands."
+
+Israel eagerly grasped one half sheet; Godlike took the other. Martin
+Fulmer intensely watched their faces as they read.
+
+Rapidly Godlike's eagle eye, perused that index to the untold wealth of
+the Van Huyden estate.
+
+"It would purchase the Presidency of the United States!" he muttered
+with a heaving chest,--"enthroned upon that pedestal, a man might call
+kings his menials, the world his plaything."
+
+"One hundred millions! Astor multiplied by Girard!" ejaculated Israel
+Yorke,--"with such a capital, one might buy Rothschild, and keep him
+too!"
+
+Glorious and eloquent half sheet of foolscap! Talk of Milton,
+Shakspeare, Homer,--your poetry is worth all theirs combined! What
+flight of theirs, in their loftiest moods, can match in sublimity, the
+simple and majestic march of this swelling line,--
+
+"_One hundred millions of dollars!_"
+
+"This is a dream," said Godlike,--and for once his voice was tremulous.
+
+"Enough to set one raving!" cried Israel Yorke.
+
+"And yet, adhering to the strict letter of my oath,--" the voice and
+look of Martin Fulmer was sad,--despairing,--"I am bound to divide this
+incredible wealth between you two."
+
+"Say, between us three!" cried a new voice, and as Martin Fulmer raised
+his head, and the others started in their seats, the speaker came with
+a rapid stride from the curtained doorway to the table.
+
+It was Randolph Royalton, the white slave. Folding his arms upon
+the breast of his frock coat,--made of dark blue cloth,--which was
+buttoned to his throat, he stood beside the table, his face lividly
+pale, and his dark hair floating wild and disheveled about his forehead.
+
+"You!--a negro!"--and Godlike's lip curled in sardonic scorn.
+
+Trembling as with an excitement continued for long hours, Randolph
+turned to Martin Fulmer, and said:
+
+"I am the oldest child of John Augustine Royal ton, and his lawful
+heir. And I am here! There is the proof that my father was married
+to Herodia, my mother,--" he placed a paper in the hands of Martin
+Fulmer,--"I am here in the name of my father, to claim my portion of
+the Van Huyden estate."
+
+Israel was very restless,--Godlike very gloomy and full of scorn, as
+Martin Fulmer attentively perused the document.
+
+"You have a copy of the Will, addressed to your father?" asked the old
+man, raising his eyes to Randolph's colorless face.
+
+Randolph drew a parchment from the breast of his coat,--"There is my
+father's copy, superscribed with his name."
+
+"I recognize you as the elder son of John Augustine Royalton," said Dr.
+Fulmer, very calmly,--"These proofs are all sufficient. Be seated, sir."
+
+Randolph uttered a wild cry, and pressed his forehead with both hands.
+
+It was a moment before he recovered his composure. "You said _negro!_
+just now!" he turned to Godlike, his blue eves flashing with deadly
+hatred, "learn sir, that had yonder bit of paper failed to establish my
+right, that this at least establishes my descent from ---- ----!"
+
+Godlike repeated that great name, in a tone of mingled incredulity and
+contempt.
+
+"Ay, _he_ was the father of Herodia,--I am his grandson. There is my
+grandfather's handwriting," he placed the paper in the hands of Martin
+Fulmer, "Read it, sir, for the information of this statesman. Let him
+know that the few drops of _negro blood_ which flow in my veins, are
+lost and drowned in the blood of a man whose name is history,--of ----
+----!"
+
+Martin Fulmer read the paper aloud, adding, "You perceive he speaks the
+truth. He is the grandson of ---- ----."
+
+"Pardon me,--I was hasty," said the statesman, extending his hand.
+
+Randolph did not seem to notice the extended hand, but dropping into a
+chair, said, quietly,--"There are _three_ of us _now_, I believe."
+
+And he regarded the statesman with a look which was full of triumph and
+scorn.
+
+Martin Fulmer looked into the faces of the three, and then bent his
+head in deep thought,--deep and harrowing thought, extending over every
+instant of twenty-one years.
+
+From the portfolio he drew forth two half sheets of paper, covered with
+writing in his own hand. One bore the signature of Gabriel Godlike, the
+other that of Israel Yorke.
+
+"These papers, embracing an absolute renunciation of all their claims
+upon the Van Huyden estate, they signed before the Court of Ten
+Millions,--signed, without knowing their contents. Shall I produce
+them?"
+
+He hesitated.--"But no! no! I am not clear as to the right of any one
+to dispose of his share."
+
+Martin Fulmer, before the bar of his own conscience, was fanatically
+just. He _might_ use these papers, but before his own conscience he
+dared not.
+
+"I am decided," he exclaimed, despair impressed upon his face,--"I must
+fulfill my oath. Gentlemen, I recognize you as the three heirs of the
+Van Huyden estate, you having appeared at the appointed hour."
+
+The same electric throb of joy--joy intense to madness,--ran through
+the bosoms of the three, but manifested itself in different ways. The
+diminutive financier bounded from his chair; Godlike uttered an oath;
+Randolph muttered between his teeth, "The _negro_ is, indeed, then, one
+of the three."
+
+"I will presently give to each of you a certificate, over my own hand,
+stating that you appeared at the appointed hour, and pledging myself,
+within a week, to apportion this vast estate among you."
+
+Without taking time to notice the expression of their faces, he
+continued,--
+
+"But first, we must open this,"--he pointed to the iron chest,--"and
+this,"--to the coffin, around which, as around the iron chest, tall wax
+candles were dimly burning. "Whatever these may contain, they cannot
+affect nor change my decision. But they must be opened,--so the will
+directs."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+THE LEGATE OF HIS HOLINESS.
+
+
+As he rose from his seat and advanced toward the iron chest, the
+curtain of the doorway was thrust aside, and the light shone upon a
+slender form, clad in black, and upon a pallid face, framed in masses
+of jet-black hair.
+
+"Gaspar Manuel! at last!" ejaculated Martin Fulmer.
+
+"Pardon me for this intrusion," said Gaspar Manuel, in a tone of quiet
+dignity,--"I would have seen you ere this, but unexpected events
+prevented me. It is of the last importance that I should converse with
+you without delay."
+
+The entrance of the man, whose slender form was clad in a frock-coat of
+black cloth, single-breasted, and reaching to the knees,--whose face,
+unnaturally pale, was in strong contrast with the blackness of his
+moustache and beard, and of the hair, which fell in wavy masses to his
+shoulders,--created a singular and marked impression.
+
+With one impulse, Godlike, Yorke and Randolph rose to their feet. For
+the first time, they remarked that the stranger wore on his right
+breast a golden cross, and carried in his left hand a casket of dark
+wood,--perchance ebony.
+
+"I wish to see you in regard to the lands in California, near
+the mission of San Luis," said Gaspar Manuel, his voice, touched
+with a foreign accent, yet singularly sweet and emphatic in its
+intonation.--"Lands claimed by yourself, on behalf of the Van Huyden
+estate, and also by the Order of Jesus. Many acres of these lands are
+rich in everything that can bless a climate soft as Italy, but there
+are one thousand barren acres which abound in fruit like this."
+
+He placed the casket upon the table, unlocked it, and displayed its
+contents.
+
+"Gold!" burst from every lip.
+
+"Those thousand acres contain gold sufficient to change the destinies
+of the world," said Gaspar Manuel, calmly, as he fixed his dazzling
+eyes upon the face of Godlike.--"The contest for the possession of
+this untold wealth lies between the Order of Jesus and the Van Huyden
+estate."
+
+"Have not the Mexican Government appointed a Commissioner to decide
+upon their respective claims?" As he asked the question, Dr. Martin
+Fulmer, (who, as Ezekiel Bogart, had seen Gaspar Manuel dressed as a
+man of the world) gazed in surprise upon that costume which indicated
+the Jesuit. There was suspicion as well as surprise in his gaze.
+
+"That Commissioner is one of the rulers of the Jesuits,--an especial
+Legate of the Roman Pope," continued Martin, surveying Gaspar Manuel
+with a look of deepening suspicion. "His name is----"
+
+"Never mind his name," interrupted Gaspar Manuel,--"Let it satisfy you
+that I am a Jesuit, perchance one of the rulers of that Order. And I am
+the LEGATE of whom you speak."
+
+"You!" echoed Martin Fulmer, and his ejaculation was repeated by the
+others.
+
+"I am that Commissioner," replied Gaspar Manuel, "and my decision has
+been made. Allow me a few moments for reflection, and I will make it
+known to you. While you converse with those gentlemen, I will warm
+myself at yonder fire, for the climate is hard to bear, after the bland
+atmosphere of Havana."
+
+With a wave of the hand and a slight inclination of the head, he
+retired from the table and bent his steps toward the fire-place.
+Seating himself in an arm-chair, he now gazed into the flame with his
+flashing eyes, and now,--over his shoulder,--surveyed the banquet-hall.
+Then taking tablets and pencil from a side-pocket, he seemed absorbed
+in the mazes of a profound arithmetical calculation; but every now and
+then he raised his eyes, and with that dazzling glance, took in every
+detail of the banquet-hall.
+
+Meanwhile, the group around the table had not yet recovered from the
+impression, produced by his presence.
+
+"A singular man,--eh?" quoth Yorke.
+
+"A man of rank. I think I have seen his face in Washington City,"
+remarked Godlike.
+
+"A dignitary of the Catholic Church," exclaimed Randolph.--"A man of no
+common order."
+
+As for Martin Fulmer, glancing by turns at the box, filled with
+golden ore, and at the form of the Legate, who was seated quietly by
+the fire-place, he said, with a sigh,--"More gold, more wealth!" and
+thought of Carl Raphael, the son of Gulian Van Huyden.
+
+"Let us open the iron chest," he said, and placed the key in the lock,
+while Randolph, Godlike and Yorke, gathered round, in mute suspense.
+
+But ere the key turned in the lock, a new interruption took place. The
+aged servant, Michael, entered, and placed a slip of paper, on which
+a single line was written, in the hands of Martin Fulmer. The old man
+read it at a glance, and at once his face glowed, his eyes shone with
+new light.
+
+"The person who wrote this, Michael,--where--where is he?" he said, in
+a tremulous voice.
+
+"In the reception-room," answered Michael.
+
+"Show him here,--at once,--at once,--quick, I say!" and he seized
+Michael by the arm, and pointed to the door, his face displaying every
+sign of irrepressible agitation. Michael hurried from the room.
+
+"Let us all thank God, for HE has not failed us!" cried Martin Fulmer,
+spreading forth his hands, as he walked wildly to and fro.--"The son of
+Gulian Van Huyden is not dead!"
+
+A thunderbolt crushing through the ceiling, would not have created half
+the consternation caused by these words.
+
+They dashed the hopes of Randolph, Godlike and Yorke to the dust.
+
+"Not dead!" they echoed, in a breath.
+
+"He is not dead. He is living, and in this house. In a moment he will
+be here,--here, to claim his father's estate."
+
+And in the wildness of his joy, Martin Fulmer hurried to and fro, now
+wringing his hands, now spreading them forth in thankfulness to heaven.
+
+"I knew," said the old man, standing erect, the light shining full upon
+his white hairs, "I knew that Providence would not desert me!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+THE SON AT LAST.
+
+
+The curtain moved again, and two persons came slowly into the room; a
+man whose wounded arm was carried in a sling and whose livid face was
+marked by recent wounds,--a boy, whose graceful form was enveloped in a
+closely fitting frock-coat, while his young face was shaded by locks of
+glossy hair.
+
+"Martin Fulmer! behold the lost child of Gulian Van Huyden!" cried
+Colonel Tarleton, urging the boy forward.
+
+At sight of Tarleton, Martin Fulmer felt his whole being contract with
+loathing, but rushing forward, he seized the boy by the arms, and
+looked earnestly into his face,--a face touching in its expression,
+with clear, deep eyes, that now seemed blue, now gray, and round
+outlines, and framed in locks of flowing hair, of the richest chestnut
+brown.
+
+"This,--this, is not Carl Raphael!" ejaculated Martin Fulmer, turning
+fiercely upon Tarleton,--
+
+A smile crossed the bloodless lips of Tarleton.
+
+"Not Carl Raphael, but still the son of Gulian. A word will explain
+all. On the last night of her life, Alice Van Huyden gave birth to two
+children: they were born within a half hour of each other. One was
+taken from her bed, and borne away by her husband. The other I bore to
+my home, educated as my own, and now he stands before you, the lawful
+heir of his father's estate. Look at his face, and, if you can, say
+that he is not Gulian's son."
+
+This revelation was listened to with the most intense interest by
+Randolph, Godlike, Yorke,--and Gaspar Manuel, attracted from the
+fire-place by the sound of voices, looked over their shoulders at the
+singular group,--the boy, with Tarleton on one hand, and Martin Fulmer
+on the other.
+
+Long and intently Martin Fulmer perused that youthful countenance,
+which, with downcast eyes, seemed to avoid his gaze.
+
+"Carl Raphael Van Huyden is lost," exclaimed Martin Fulmer, "but the
+face, the look of Gulian Van Huyden lives again in this boy. Gentlemen,
+behold the son of Gulian Van Huyden, the heir to his estate!"
+
+He urged the shrinking boy toward the light.
+
+"I will not," cried the boy, raising his head and surveying the group
+with flashing eyes,--"I will not submit to be made an accomplice in
+this imposture--"
+
+"Child!" said Tarleton, sternly.
+
+"Nay, you shall not force me to it. Hear me one and all," and he tore
+open his coat and vest, and laid bare his breast, "I am the child of
+Gulian Van Huyden, but not his son."
+
+It was a woman's bosom which the open vest bared to the light.
+
+A dead stillness followed this revelation.
+
+And the center of the group stood the beautiful girl in her male
+attire, her bosom heaving in the light, while her eyes flashed through
+their tears.
+
+"I will not submit to be made the accomplice of this man's schemes,"
+she pointed to Tarleton,--"As the daughter of Gulian Van Huyden, I
+cannot inherit my father's estate."
+
+At this point, Gaspar Manuel stepped forward,--"Yes you can, my child,"
+he said, and drew the disguised girl to his breast, "it is your father
+himself who tells you so, daughter." And he kissed her on the forehead,
+while his dark hair hid her face.
+
+Then as he held her in his arms, he raised his face, and with one hand,
+swept back the dark hair from his brow,--"Martin Fulmer, don't you
+remember me?" and then to Colonel Tarleton,--"and you, brother, you
+certainly don't forget me?"
+
+That scene cannot be painted in words.
+
+"Gulian!" was all that Tarleton or Charles Van Huyden could say, as he
+shrank back appalled and blasted before his brother's smile.
+
+As for Martin Fulmer, after one eager and intense look, he felt his
+knees bend beneath him, and his head droop on his breast, as he uttered
+his soul in the words,--"It is Gulian come back to life again."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+A LONG ACCOUNT SETTLED.
+
+
+Back from his brother's gaze, step by step, shrank Tarleton or Charles
+Van Huyden, his eyes still chained to that face, which the grave seemed
+to have yielded up, to blast his schemes in the very moment of their
+triumph.
+
+His own child dead,--the stain of Carl Raphael's blood upon his
+soul,--he felt like a man who stands amid the ruins of a falling house,
+when the last prop gives way.
+
+With a cry that was scarcely human, in its awful anguish, he turned and
+fled. Fled from the banquet-room, and through the adjoining chamber,
+into the darkness of the corridor. His mind, strained to its utmost
+tension by the perpetual excitement of the last twenty-four hours, gave
+way all at once, like a bow that, drawn to its full power, suddenly
+snaps, even as a withered reed. All was dark around him as he rushed
+along the corridor, but that darkness was made luminous by his soul.
+It was peopled with faces, that seemed to be encircled by lurid light.
+The worst agony that can befall a mortal man fell upon him. Nerves
+disordered, brain unstrung, his very thoughts became living things, and
+chased him through the darkness. The face of Evelyn Somers was before
+him, gazing upon him with fixed eyeballs. And his steps were suddenly
+checked, by an agonized countenance, which was sinking in wintery
+waves, that seemed to roll about his very feet. He was touched on the
+shoulder,--his dead daughter ran beside him in her shroud, linking her
+arm in his, and bending forward her face, which looked up into his
+own, with lips that had no blood in them, and eyes that had no life.
+And if the darkness was full of faces, the air was full of voices;
+voices whispering, shouting, yelling, all through each other, and yet,
+every voice distinctly heard,--all the voices that he had heard in his
+lifetime were speaking to him now. Well might he have exclaimed in the
+words of Cain,--"My punishment is greater than I can bear."
+
+If he could have only rid himself of Frank, who ran by his side, in her
+shroud! But no,--there she was,--her arm in his,--her face bent forward
+looking up into his own, with lips that had no blood, and eyes that had
+no life.
+
+He talked to those phantoms,--he bade them back,--he rushed on, through
+the corridor, and ascended the dark stairs with horrid shrieks. And
+the face of Carl Raphael, struggling in the waves, went before him at
+every step.
+
+He readied at length the narrow garret, in which years agone, Gulian
+Van Huyden bid Martin Fulmer, farewell. Here, as he heard the storm
+beat against the window panes, he for a moment recovered his shattered
+senses.
+
+"I'm nervous," he cried, "if I had been drinking, I would think I had
+the _mania_. Let me recover myself. Where in the deuce am I?"
+
+A heavy step was heard on the stairway, and a form plunged into the
+room, bearing Tarleton against the wall. It was no phantom, but the
+form of a stalwart man.
+
+"Halloo! Who are you?" cried a hoarse voice,--it was the voice of
+Ninety-One, and as he spoke, shouts came up the narrow stairway from
+the passage below. "You set here to trap me,--speak?"
+
+And the hand of Ninety-One, clutched the throat of Tarleton with an
+iron grip.
+
+"This way,--this way," cried a voice, and a gleam of light shooting up
+the stairs, through the narrow doorway, fell upon the livid face of
+Tarleton.
+
+"O, we have met at last? Do you hear them shouts? Blossom follered by
+the poleese are in the house, and on my track, for the murder of young
+Somers. In a second they'll be here. Now I've got you, and we'll settle
+that long account,--we will by G--d!"
+
+"You are choking me,--A-h!" gasped Tarleton, as he was dragged toward
+the window. The shouts from below grew more distinct, and once more the
+light flashed up the stairs.
+
+"Carl Raphael died by drownin' and that's very like chokin'," whispered
+Ninety-One, as he bent his face near to the struggling wretch. "I've no
+way of escape,--even old Fulmer can't save me. And so we'll settle that
+long account."
+
+"You are choking me,--do not,--do not--"
+
+"You know all the items, so there's no use o' dwellin' on 'em," the
+hoarse voice of Ninety-One was heard above the pelting of the storm,
+"but the murder of that 'ar boy makes the docket full. Here goes--"
+
+Dragging Tarleton to the window, he struck the sash, with one hand, and
+then kicked against it with all his strength. It yielded with a crash,
+and the snow and sleet rushes through the aperture in a blast.
+
+"Spare me! Mercy! O do not--"
+
+Ninety-One crept through the narrow aperture, out upon the roof, and
+dragged Tarleton after him. Then there were two forms standing erect
+for a moment, in the gloom, and then the blast bore away the sound of
+voices, and a howl that was heard, far and long, through the night.
+
+"This way! We've caught the old fox," said a well known voice, and the
+red face of Blossom, adorned with carbuncles, appeared in the doorway,
+while the lantern which he held, filled the garret with light.
+
+"This way," he sprang through the doorway, and followed by half a dozen
+men in thick coats, and with maces in their hands, he ran toward the
+window, "he's out upon the roof."
+
+He held the lantern over his head, and looked without, while the snow
+and sleet beat in his face. From the garret-window the roof fell with
+a sudden slope, for the space of two yards, and there it ended. By
+the lantern light, he saw some rude traces of footsteps in the snow,
+and the print of a hand. A glance was sufficient. When he turned to
+confront his comrades, his red face was white as a sheet--
+
+"By G--d the old convic' has gone an' jumped from the roof,--four
+storys high--as I'm a sinner!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+IN THE BANQUET-ROOM ONCE MORE.
+
+
+Meanwhile in the banquet-room, the Legate of the Pope, with the form
+of his daughter, in her male attire, nestling on his breast, raised
+his head, and surveyed the faces of the spectators, who had not yet
+recovered from their surprise. His face pale and worn, as with years of
+consuming thought, his eyes bright as with the fire of a soul never at
+rest, held every gaze enchained as he spoke,--
+
+"Rise Martin Fulmer!" he extended his hand to the kneeling man, "rise,
+and let me look upon the face of--an honest man."
+
+As though disturbed in the midst of a dream, Martin Fulmer rose, his
+head with his snow-white hair and protuberant brow, presenting a strong
+contrast to the pallid face, dark hair and beard of the Legate.
+
+"Look upon me, Martin Fulmer, and steadily. Do you recognize me."
+
+"Gulian Van Huyden!" ejaculated the old man.
+
+The Legate surveyed Randolph, Godlike, Yorke, who formed a group behind
+the Doctor, while in the background, the lights burned faintly around
+the iron chest and coffin. Even as the Legate looked around, Randolph
+turned aside, and leaning against frame of yonder window, pushed the
+curtains aside, and looked forth upon the cold, dark night. Not so cold
+and dark as his own bitter fate! Well was it for him, that his face was
+turned from the light! That face, terribly distorted, now revealed the
+hell which was raging in his breast. His soul stained with crime, his
+last hope blotted out, whither should he turn? Grandson of ---- ---- it
+had been better for you, had you never been born!
+
+After his silent survey, the Legate spoke:
+
+"Another place and another hour, will be needed, to repeat the full
+details of my life, since twenty-one years ago, I left this house,--to
+die," in an attitude of calm dignity, and with a voice and look, that
+held every soul, the Legate spoke these words,--"I was rescued from
+the waves, by a boat that chanced to be passing from the shore to a
+ship in the bay. Upon that ship, I again unclosed my eyes to life, and
+watched through the cabin windows, the last glimpse of the American
+shore, growing faint and fainter over the waves. Thus called back
+to life,--my name in my native land, only known as the name of the
+Suicide, my estates in the hands of Martin Fulmer, left to the chances
+or the providence of twenty-one years,--I resolved to live. The ship
+(the captain and crew were foreigners,) bore me to an Italian port.
+I sold the jewels which were about my person when I plunged into
+the river, and found myself in possession of a competence. Then, in
+search of peace, anxious to drown the past, and still every emotion of
+other days, by a life of self-denial, I went to Rome, I entered the
+Propaganda. In the course of time I became a priest, and then,----well!
+twenty-one years passed in the service of the church have left me as I
+am. Your hand, brave Martin Fulmer! Think not that your course has been
+unknown to me! You have been watched,--your every step marked,--your
+very thoughts recorded,--and now it is the Legate of the Pope, who
+takes you by the hand, and calls you by a title, which it is beyond
+the power of Pope or King to create,--_an honest man!_ Twenty times I
+have been near you in the course of twenty-one years,--once in Paris,
+when you were there on business of the estate,--once in Mexico,--once
+in China,--once on the Ocean,--once in Rome! How my heart yearned to
+disclose myself to you! But I left you go your way, and now at the end
+of twenty-one years, we stand face to face. And thou, my child,--" he
+gazed tenderly into the face of the girl, whose eyes were upraised to
+meet his own,--"my beautiful! my own! Think not that the garment of the
+priest, chills the heart of the father!"
+
+"Father!" she whispered, putting her hands upon his shoulder,--"how my
+heart yearned to you, when I first met you, in the dark streets,--when
+friendless and homeless, I was flying to the river, as my only friend!"
+
+It was a touching picture,--the priest, who for twenty-one years, had
+never permitted his heart to throb with one pulse that would remind
+him of the word "Home," and the daughter, who, educated to serve the
+dark purposes of Tarleton, had never before felt her heart bound at the
+sight of her _Father's_ face.
+
+Martin Fulmer's face grew sad,--
+
+"Do you regret my return?" said the Legate with a smile.
+
+"I was thinking," said Martin, and his soul was in his eyes as he
+spoke,--"I was thinking of--ROME!"
+
+Godlike stepped forward, with a smile on his somber visage,--"Rome!" he
+echoed,--"of course, now that the dead has returned to life, the heirs
+need not think of dividing the estate. And you as priest of the Roman
+Church, as one of her lords, can think of but one disposition of your
+immense property It will go to the church,--to Rome!"
+
+"To Rome!" echoed Israel Yorke. Randolph, with his face from the light,
+did not seem to hear a word that was spoken. And Martin Fulmer, with
+his finger on his lips, awaited in evident suspense, the answer of the
+Legate.
+
+"To Rome!" echoed the Legate and disengaging himself from the arms of
+his daughter, he stood erect. His entire face changed. His nostrils
+quivered, his lips curled, there was a glow on his pale cheek, and
+an intenser fire in his eyes. He passed his hand over his forehead,
+and brushing back his dark hair, stood for a moment, motionless as a
+statue, his eyes fixed, as though he saw passing before his soul, a
+panorama of the future.
+
+"Within that brutal Rome which plants its power upon human skulls,
+there is a higher, mightier Rome! Within that order which uses and
+profanes the name of Jesus, as the instrument of its frauds, there is
+a higher, mightier Order of Jesus! I see this mightier church,--I see
+this mightier Order moving onward, through the paths of the future,
+combating the false Rome, and trampling under foot the false Order
+of Jesus! Yes, in the future, I see armed for the last battle, those
+friends of humanity, who have sworn to use the Roman Church as the
+instrument of Human Progress, or to drive forward the movement over her
+ruins."
+
+The effect of these words, coupled with the look and the attitude of
+the Legate, was electric. They were followed by a dead stillness. The
+spectators gazed into each other's faces, but no one ventured to break
+the silence.
+
+The silence was interrupted, however, by a strange voice,--
+
+"Lor bress you, massa, de nigga hab arribe!" It was Old Royal, who
+emerged from the curtains, with a broad grin on his black face,--"You
+know dis nigga war on de ribber in a boat, fetchin ober from
+Jarsey shore, a brack gemman who didn' like to trabel by de ferry
+boat--yah--whah! Well de nigga did it,--"
+
+He advanced a step,--passed his hand through his white wool,--surveyed
+his giant-like form clad in sleek broadcloth,--showed his white teeth,
+and continued, with an accent and a gesticulation that words cannot
+describe--
+
+"Well, as we come across,--lor-a-massy how de storm did storm, and de
+snow did snow! As we come across, dis nigga cotched by de har ob his
+head, a young white gemman, who war a-drownin'. An' dis same young
+white gemman, Massa Fulmer,--" he pointed over his shoulder, "am out
+dar!"
+
+"What mean you, Royal?" cried Martin Fulmer, and he shook with the
+conflict of hope and suspense,--"whom did you rescue?"
+
+"Dar's de white _pusson_," said Old Royal.
+
+Leaning on the arm of Mary Berman, whose face was rosy with joy,
+whose bonnet had fallen on her neck, while her hair, glittering with
+snow-drops, strayed over her shoulders,--leaning on the arm of his
+wife, Nameless, or Carl Raphael, came through the doorway, and advanced
+toward the group.
+
+He was clad in black, which threw his pale face, shaded by brown hair,
+boldly into view. His eyes were clear and brilliant; his lip firm. As
+he advanced, every eye remarked the resemblance between him and the
+Legate; and also between him, and the disguised girl, who stood by the
+Legate's side.
+
+"Rescued from death by the hands of this good friend,--" his voice was
+clear and bold, "I returned home, and found the note which you,--" he
+looked at Martin Fulmer, "caused to be left there. And in obedience to
+the request contained in that note, I am here."
+
+At first completely thunderstruck, the venerable man had not power to
+frame a word.
+
+"Fatality!" he cried at last, "but a blessed fatality! I knew that
+Providence would not desert us! Come to my heart, my child! Carl,--"
+trembling with emotion, he took Nameless by the hand, "Carl, behold
+your father, who, after a lapse of twenty-one years, has appeared
+among us, like one risen from the grave! Behold your sister, born like
+you, in your mother's death-agony,--separated from you for twenty-one
+years,--she now rejoins you, in presence of your father!"
+
+It was now the turn of Nameless to stand spell-bound and thunderstruck.
+He stood like one in a dream, until the voices of the Legate and the
+young girl broke on his ear, voices so like his own.
+
+"My son!"
+
+"Brother!"
+
+He was gathered to the Legate's breast, who kissed him on the brow,
+and surveying every line of his face, felt his bosom swell with pride
+as he called him, "my son!" Then his sister's arms were upon his neck,
+and Nameless, as he saw her face, so touching, in its quiet loveliness,
+felt his heart swell with a rapture, never felt before, as he found
+himself encircled in that atmosphere which is most like heaven,--the
+atmosphere of a sister's love.
+
+"Listen to me, my son," said the Legate, as he took Nameless by
+the hand, and his eyes lit up with a new fire, while in abrupt and
+broken sentences, he poured forth the story of his life. His tone was
+impassioned, his words electric. Carl Raphael listened, while the
+emotions of his soul, were written in his changing features.
+
+"And now, my son," concluded the Legate, as he put his arm about the
+neck of Nameless, "twenty-one years are gone, and I appear again. The
+estate, from two millions, has swelled into one hundred millions. You
+will inherit it, and you and I, and this good man, will join together,
+in applying the awful power embodied in this wealth, to the best
+interests of the human race."
+
+To the surprise of the Legate, Nameless unwound his arm from his neck,
+and stepped back from him. His face suddenly became cold and rigid as
+stone. Rising in every inch of his stature, he surveyed the entire
+scene at a rapid glance.
+
+On his right, his father and sister. Near him the venerable old man,
+with Mary by his side. Somewhat apart, stood the somber Godlike, and
+the weazel-faced Yorke. In the background, the table, with the candles
+burning dimly round over chest and coffin. Around him that hall, thick
+on every panel with the memories of the past; and far in the shadows,
+the white image of the master.
+
+And by yonder window, his form half concealed in the curtains, Randolph
+looks out upon the black night.
+
+Dilating with an emotion which was incomprehensible to the spectators,
+Nameless said.
+
+"No, father, I will not touch one dollar of this wealth. It is
+accursed. Look at the passion it has evoked; look at the calamities
+which it has wrought! It is accursed,--thrice accursed. It was this
+wealth which impelled your own brother to attempt to corrupt my mother.
+It was this wealth which made that brother follow me with remorseless
+hatred, and to-night, for the sake of this, he planned my death. It
+was this wealth which drove you from your native land, there to bury
+all feeling in a church, which makes marriage a sacrament, and, at the
+same time, prevents her priests from ever enjoying that sacrament,
+from ever being hailed by the all-holy names of 'husband!' 'father!'
+There you buried twenty-one years of your life, leaving your children
+to breast the storm of life alone. It was this wealth which cast me,
+in childhood, into the streets, without friend or home,--and do you
+know the life I've lived? While you were saying mass at Rome, I was
+committing murder, father,--I was being sentenced to death,--I was
+buried alive in your family vault,--I was passing two years in a
+madman's cell! Look at the work of your wealth! Let these gentlemen
+(who, I doubt not, have been heirs of this estate in anticipation,) let
+them speak, and tell what passions, like fiends evoked from nethermost
+hell, this wealth has summoned into life! Speak, Martin Fulmer, you,
+who for twenty-one years, have denied yourself the blessing of wife,
+home, children; while in sleepless anguish you watched over this
+wealth,--speak! What evil thought is there in earth or hell which it
+has not called into deeds? No,--father,--lifting this hand to heaven, I
+swear by that mother, whom you left to writhe alone upon her dying bed,
+that I will not touch one dollar of the Van Huyden estate!"
+
+The Legate, that is to say, Gulian Van Huyden, was crushed by these
+words; they fell upon him like a sentence of death.
+
+"My son! my son!" he gasped, "spare me!"
+
+"'Son' and 'father,' are words easily spoken," continued Nameless.
+"Have you been a father to me? It would be very striking, and
+altogether like the fifth act of a melodrama, no doubt, for me
+to overlook your twenty-one years of silence, and with love and
+tears consent to be your heir. But you have not been my father. My
+father,--the father of my soul,--Cornelius Berman, lies a corpse
+to-night. I forgive you, father, but I cannot _forget_, for I am not
+the Savior; I am simply a man--"
+
+"Have you no mercy?" faltered the Legate, who stood in the presence of
+his son like a criminal before his judge. "Do you not know your words
+are killing me?"
+
+But Carl Raphael, as though all that was dark in his own life, all that
+was dark in his mother's death-hour, held possession of his soul, would
+not give his father one chance of justification.
+
+"A man, father, who has known so much suffering, that he now only
+desires to forget the real world, in the ideal world created by his
+own pencil; who only desires to turn his back upon wealth and all its
+hatreds, and win his bread humbly, and away from the world, by the
+toil of his hand. Mary!--thou who wast true to me, when I slept in the
+coffin,--thou who wast true to me when I was the tenant of a madman's
+cell,--Mary! come, let us go."
+
+While the spectators stood like statues,--all, save Randolph, who, with
+his face from the light, took no notice of the scene,--he took Mary by
+the hand, and moved toward the door.
+
+With one voice, his father, his sister, Martin Fulmer, called him back.
+
+"Carl! Carl! you must not go!"
+
+"My son! my son!"
+
+"Brother!"
+
+He lingered on the threshold, holding his beautiful wife by the hand.
+
+"Father! sister! brave Martin Fulmer! come and see me in my poor man's
+home, and I will bless you from my heart for your presence. Come!
+come,--but not to tempt me with the offer of wealth; that word spoken,
+and we are strangers forever. For my oath is sworn, by the name of my
+mother, never to touch one dollar of the Van Huyden estate, and that
+oath is written up yonder!"
+
+With these words, Carl Raphael, son of Gulian Van Huyden, and heir of
+One Hundred Million Dollars, took Mary by the hand, and passed from the
+banquet-hall, and from the house in which, twenty-one years before, his
+mother died.
+
+
+
+
+EPILOGUE.
+
+ON THE OCEAN,--BY THE RIVER SHORE,--IN THE VATICAN,--ON THE PRAIRIE.
+
+
+My task is almost done. This work was commenced in January, 1848,--it
+is now June, 1852. Four years that have been of awful moment to the
+great world, and that, to many of you my readers, have brought change,
+affliction--have stripped you of those whose life was a part of your
+life, and made your pathway rich only in graves. Four years! As I am
+about to lay aside the pen, and shut the pages of this book, those four
+years start up before me, in living shape; they wear familiar faces;
+they speak with voices that never shall be heard on earth again.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Before the curtain falls, let us take a glance at the characters of our
+history.
+
+Harry Royalton. He did not die under his brother's hands, but returned
+to Hill Royal, where he drank, and gambled, and talked "secession,"
+until a kindly bullet, from the pistol of an antagonist in a duel,
+relieved him of the woes of this life.
+
+Randolph Royalton was never seen in New York, after the 25th of
+December, 1844. It is supposed that, aided by Martin Fulmer, he went
+abroad, accompanied by his sister, the beautiful Esther.
+
+In January, 1845, Bernard Lynn, completely broken down in health and
+appearance, returned, with his daughter, to Europe. He died soon
+afterward in Florence. Eleanor, it has been rumored, committed the
+moral suicide of burying her life in a convent. But let us hope, that
+Eleanor, as well as Esther, will once more appear in active life.
+
+Israel Yorke still flourishes; the devil is good to his children.
+Godlike, we believe, is yet upon the stage. And the apostolic Ishmael
+Ghoul, still conducts the Daily Blaze, waxing fat and strong, in total
+depravity. As for Sleevegammon, his competitor for public favor, he
+still see-saws on the tight rope, with Conservatism on one side, and
+Progress on the other. Blossom, the policeman, has retired from active
+life, and now does a great deal of nothing, for three dollars a day, in
+the Custom-House. Dr. Bulgin still thrives; he lately published a book
+of 345 pages, as big as his own head almost, against "Socialism." We
+have not been informed whether any monument of marble, with an obelisk
+and an epitaph, has been erected in memory of the martyred "Bloodhound."
+
+Before we close our task, we will gaze upon four scenes; one of which
+took place on the ocean; another, by the shore of Hudson river; a
+third, in the Vatican, at Rome; the fourth and last, upon the boundless
+prairie.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was in January, 1845.
+
+One winter night, when the wind was bitter cold in New York, and the
+snow lay white upon the hills of the northern land, there was a brave
+ship resting motionless upon the ocean, not under a wintery sky, but
+under a summer sky, and in an atmosphere soft and bland as June. On her
+way from New York to the West Indies, she had been becalmed. She lay
+under the starlit sky, with her image mirrored in every detail, upon
+the motionless sea. All at once another light than the pale beams of
+the stars, flashed over the smooth expanse, and a pyramid of flame rose
+grandly into the sky. The ship was on fire; in less than two hours the
+flame died away, and in place of the brave ship, there was a blackened
+wreck upon the waters. All that escaped from the wreck were six souls;
+the captain, three of the crew, and two passengers. Upon a hastily
+constructed raft, with but a scanty supply of bread and water, behold
+them, as they float alone upon the trackless ocean. For three days,
+without a breath of air to fan the smooth expanse, they floated under
+a burning sun, in sight of the wreck, and on the evening of the third
+day, they shared the last crust of bread, and passed from lip to lip
+the last can of water. It was on the evening of the fourth day, that
+the captain, a brave old seaman, driven mad by the burning sun and
+intolerable thirst, leaped overboard, and died, without a single effort
+on the part of his companions to save him. His example was followed by
+a sailor, an old tar, who had followed him over half the globe. Thus,
+there remained upon the raft four persons; two passengers and two
+sailors.
+
+It was the evening of the fifth day,--five days under the burning
+sun,--two days and nights without water!
+
+The sun was setting. Like a globe of red hot metal, he hung on the
+verge of the horizon, shooting his fiery rays through a thin purple
+haze.
+
+The wreck had gone down, and the raft was alone upon the motionless
+ocean.
+
+The sailors were seated near each other, on the side of the raft
+most remote from the sun,--they were dressed in a coarse shirt and
+trowsers,--and with their hands resting on their knees, and their faces
+upon their hands, they seemed to have surrendered themselves to their
+fate,--that is, to despair and death, by starvation.
+
+The passengers were on the other side of the raft; one of them was a
+man of slender form, dressed in dark broadcloth; his head was buried
+in his hands, and the setting sun shone on his hair, which, sleek and
+brown lay behind his ears. Beside him, in a reclining posture, was the
+other passenger, a woman; a woman who had escaped from the burning
+vessel in her night-clothes, and who now, with the cloak of the man
+spread beneath her, turns her dark eyes hopelessly to the setting sun.
+A few days ago, with her proud bosom, and rounded limbs, and dark
+eyes flashing from that face, whose clear, brown complexion indicated
+her Spanish descent, she was very beautiful. Look at her now. Livid
+circles beneath each eye, lips parched, cheeks hollow,--her bosom is
+bare,--shrunken from its once voluptuous outline, it trembles with a
+faint pulsation. Five days have made terrible havoc of your beauty,
+proud Godiva!
+
+The man by her side raises his head from his hands,--in that sallow
+face, lack-luster eyes, and hollowed cheeks, can you recognize the
+smooth, fair visage of Herman Barnhurst? Alas! Herman, your prospect of
+a West Indian paradise, with Godiva for the queen of your houris, is
+rather dim just now.
+
+And the sky was above them, the trackless sea all around, the last
+rays of the red sun in their faces; and not a sail in sight, Scan the
+horizon, Herman, and in vain.
+
+"O! it is horrible to die thus," exclaimed Godiva, in a voice so faint
+as to be scarcely audible.
+
+But Herman made no reply.
+
+And as the sailors raised their eyes,--wild and fiery from thirst and
+hunger,--the sun went down, and night came at once upon the scene.
+
+"How beautiful they are,--the stars up yonder, Herman!"
+
+Still Herman did not reply.
+
+Godiva, resting one arm upon his knee, fell into a brief slumber,
+which was broken by the most incongruous dreams. At length her dreams
+resolved themselves into a view of Niagara Falls, that world of waters,
+singing its awful hymn as it plunges into the abyss. She saw the cool
+water, her face was bathed in the spray, and,--she awoke devoured by
+maddening thirst.
+
+Herman had moved from her side; he was on the opposite side of the
+raft, talking with the sailors in low tones. And the sailors looked
+over their shoulders, with their fiery eyes, as they conversed with
+Herman.
+
+Again she fell into a doze,--she was with her father this time, and
+Eugene, her first love, by her side. Happy days!--innocent girlhood!
+
+She awoke with a start,--Herman was still with the sailors, conversing
+in low tones.
+
+And thus the short night at the tropics wore on. It was near
+sunrise, and yet very dark, when Godiva was dreaming--dreaming of
+the night when, yet a pure girl, she was joined in marriage to the
+brutal sensualist. There was the familiar parlor,--the white-haired
+father,--the clergyman,--her profligate husband. And the husband bore
+her again over the threshold, she struggling in his loathed embrace.
+In the struggle she awoke,--sunrise was warm and bright upon the
+waters,--and a fresh breeze fanned her burning cheek. Over her stood
+Herman, his right hand upraised,--the knife which it grasped glittering
+in the sun.
+
+"The lot has fallen on me!" he cried.
+
+"Herman!" she shrieked--and spread forth her hands. Too late! The knife
+was buried in her bosom.
+
+"Woman you must die to save our lives!"
+
+Godiva never saw anything in this world, after that blow, which was
+followed by a stream of blood.
+
+"Come! Let us drink!" shouted Herman to the sailors, his eyes rolling
+all wild and mad.
+
+Only one of the sailors came and joined him, in that loathsome
+draught. In the sunken features of the poor wretch, you but faintly
+recognize--Arthur Conroy.
+
+The third sailor, rose trembling to his feet,--his cheeks hollowed and
+his eyes sunken like the others. He folded his arms, and surveyed the
+three,--the body of Godiva, with Herman and Conroy bending over her.
+
+And then the third sailor, with his great eyes flashing in their
+sockets, burst into a maniac laugh, and cried,--"A sail! A sail!"
+
+The third sailor was Arthur Dermoyne.
+
+Loathsome as was the draught which they took, it assuaged their thirst,
+and for a time stilled the madness in their veins. It was, therefore,
+with a vision somewhat clear, that Herman and Conroy looked up, and
+beheld a white sail breaking the monotony of the waste.
+
+They turned from the body of the dead woman with loathing. * * * The
+sail grew nearer, nearer! A signal! "They are lowering a boat," cried
+Herman, "we shall be saved!"
+
+"This is the very time of all others that I wished to see," said
+Dermoyne, in that husky and unnatural voice,--"your hands are stained
+with the blood of your paramour,--your heart beats with joy at the
+sight of a sail,--now go!" And he pushed Herman from the raft, and
+struck him on the hands, with the hilt of the knife, as the miserable
+man clutched the timbers.
+
+"Mercy!" cried Herman, again clutching the raft.
+
+Again Dermoyne struck his hands with the hilt of the knife.
+
+"Go! Alice waits for you!"
+
+When the boat from the ship came up, the crew found two men stretched
+insensible upon the raft, beside the body of a dead woman. As for
+Herman, he had sunk from sight.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was June, in the year 1848--
+
+The flush of the summer evening, lay broad and warm upon the river,
+when an old man came from the cottage door, and passing through the
+garden gate, bent his steps toward the oak, which, standing by the
+shore, caught upon its rugged trunk and wide-branching limbs, the
+golden rays of the setting sun.
+
+He stood there, with uncovered brow, the breeze tossing his snow-white
+hairs, and the evening flush warming over his venerable face. By his
+side, grasping his hand, was a boy of some three years, with a glad,
+happy face, and sunny hair.
+
+Before the old man and child spread the river, warm with golden light,
+and white with sails. Yonder the palisades rose up into the evening
+sky; and behind them, was the cottage, leaning against the cliff, with
+boughs above its steep roof, vines about its pointed windows, and
+before its door a garden, from whose beds of flowers a cool fountain
+sent up its drops of spray, into the evening air. The cottage of
+Cornelius Berman, just as it was in other days.
+
+Presently the father and the mother of the child came from the garden
+gate, and approached the oak. A man of twenty-five years, with head
+placed firmly on his shoulders, and a face whose clear gray eyes,
+and forehead shaded by brown hair, indicate the artist, the man of
+genius,--a woman who may be seventeen, who may be twenty, but whose
+rounded form and pure _wifely_ face, link together the freshness of the
+maiden, the ripe maturity of the woman.
+
+Beside the young wife, walks a young woman, whose form is not so full
+and rounded in its beauty, but whose pale face, tinted with bloom on
+the lips and cheek, is lighted by eyes that gleam with a sad, spiritual
+light. Altogether, a face that touches you with its melancholy beauty,
+and compares with the face of the wife, as a calm starlit night, with a
+rosy summer morn.
+
+It is Carl Raphael, his wife, Mary, and his sister, now called Alice,
+who come to join old Martin Fulmer on the river bank. Declining to
+touch one dollar of the Van Huyden estate, and determined to earn his
+bread by the toil of his hand, Carl still had fortune thrust upon
+him,--for Mary was the only heir of the merchant prince, Evelyn Somers.
+
+"Doctor, I have a letter from father, who is now in Rome," said Carl,
+as he stood by: the old man's side,--and he placed the letter from his
+father, the Legate, in Martin Fulmer's hand.
+
+Martin seized the letter, and reading it eagerly, his eye brightening
+up with the light of the olden time--
+
+"Ah, Carl, he will soon return, he will at last relieve me of the care
+of the Van Huyden estate! See how hopefully he speaks of the cause
+of humanity in Europe,--in February, the people of France cast off
+their chains,--now Italy is awake, and men with the soul of Rienzi and
+the sword of Washington, direct her destinies,--the Pope, soon to be
+stripped of his temporal power, will be no longer the tool of brutal
+tyrants, the prisoner of atheist cardinals, but simply the Head of
+a regenerated people, simply the first Priest of a redeemed church.
+Glorious news, Carl; glorious news for us, in this free land; for
+say what we will, Rome is a heart which never throbs, but that its
+pulsations are felt throughout the world."
+
+"How can Rome directly affect us, Doctor?"
+
+"If the absolutist party in that church,--the party who regard Christ
+but as their stepping-stone to unrestrained and brutal power,--obtain
+the mastery, then, Carl, the last battle between that party and
+humanity, will be fought not in Europe, but in this New World. Is there
+a hill in this land, but is trod by a soldier of Rome? But if the party
+of Progress in that church,--the party who believe in Christ, and hold
+the Gospels as the inspired text-book of Democratic truth,--obtain the
+ascendancy, then, instead of having to battle with the Catholic Church,
+in this New World, the friends of humanity will find in it, their
+strongest ally. Good news, Carl! The Pope, the Washington of Italy!"
+
+To which Carl,--happy in that little world of his own, where he lived
+with his wife and child, afar from the great world,--said simply:--
+
+"Martin, let us wait and see."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Some months after the conversation just recorded, a very brief scene,
+but full of interest took place in Rome.
+
+Let us pass for a little while from the Empire City to the Eternal City.
+
+In one of the chambers of the Vatican, late at night, a lamp was
+faintly burning, its rays struggling among the thick shadows which
+hung about the lofty walls. Through an open window came a dim, ominous
+murmur,--the voice of the arisen people of Rome.
+
+A man of some fifty years, whose black hair was plentifully sprinkled
+with gray, paced up and down the marble floor, pausing every now and
+then before a door, in the center of the chamber, to which he directed
+his earnest gaze. Behind that door was the majesty of the Roman Church,
+'the representative of God on earth'--the Pope of Rome.
+
+And the solitary watcher, dressed in the plain garb of a simple
+ecclesiastic, was the Legate who had done the bidding of the Pontiff
+over half the globe,--the Legate, Gulian Van Huyden.
+
+"Will he turn his back upon the people, and cast himself into the hands
+of the tyrants? Will he, after his hand has grasped the plow of Human
+Progress, falter and turn back, and give the power of the church into
+the hands of the Iscariots of the human race? Can there be any truth in
+the rumor?"
+
+And again he paused before the door, behind which was the chamber which
+held the sovereign Pontiff.
+
+That door opened,--the Pope appeared. Clad not in the gorgeous costume
+which he wears, when high upon his throne, he is carried by his guards,
+through thousands and tens of thousands of his kneeling worshipers; but
+clad in a loose robe or gown of dark silk, which, thrown open in front,
+discloses his bared neck and disordered attire. For with his mild
+countenance,--a countenance marked by irresolution,--displaying every
+sign of perturbation, this "representative of God on earth," wears very
+much the air of one who is about to fly from a falling house.
+
+"There can be no truth in this rumor, which I hear," and the Legate
+steps forward almost fiercely, addressing the Pope without one word of
+"majesty," or "holiness,"--"this rumor of flight?"
+
+It is in a soft and tremulous voice, (in Italian of course,) the Pope
+replies,--
+
+"If I stay, poison threatens me from _above_, the _dagger_ from
+_below_."
+
+And then with a gesture, supplicating silence and secrecy on the part
+of the Legate, the Pope retires and closes the door.
+
+"Significant words! Poison threatens him from above,--from the
+cardinals,--the dagger from below,--from the people. The danger from
+the cardinals is not imaginary--there was once a Pope named Ganganelli,
+who suppressed the Jesuits, and in less than three months died horribly
+of poison. But the people, Pius? O, Pope without nerve, without faith
+in God, without hope in man, know you not, that were you to fulfill
+your apostolate of Liberty, the very women and children of Rome would,
+in your defense, build around you a rampart of their dead bodies?"
+
+He walked to the window, up to which from the sleepless city, came the
+voices of arisen Rome:
+
+"God help the Roman people!" he exclaimed; "God confound the schemes
+of the tyrants, who now plot the murder of the Roman people! At last,
+after five hundred years of wrong, the Nightmare of Priesthood is
+lifted from the breast of Italy. Italy has heard at last, the voice of
+God, calling upon her sons to arise--to cast these priestly idlers from
+their thrones--to assert the Democracy of the Gospel in face of tyrants
+of all shapes, whether dressed in military gear, in solemn black, or in
+Borgian scarlet. Italy has risen!"
+
+And turning from the window, he paced the floor again,--
+
+"My work is done in Rome. The Pope and the church in the hands of
+crowned and mitred miscreants, who having crushed the last spark of
+liberty in the Old World, will not be long ere they open their trenches
+before her last altar in the New World! Away to the New World then; if
+the battle must come, let us, let the friends of humanity, strike the
+first blow!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Away from the eternal city,--to the New World,--to the boundless
+horizon and ocean-like expanse of the prairies. The sun is setting over
+one of those vast prairies, which stretch between the Mississippi and
+the Rocky Mountains. The monotony of that vast expanse, covered with
+grass that rolls and swells, like the wave of old ocean, is broken by
+a gentle knoll, crowned by a single giant oak. The setting sun flings
+the shadow of that solitary tree, black and long, over the prairie.
+Far, far in the west, a white peak rises like an altar from the
+horizon, into the sky--it is a peak of the Rocky Mountains. And gazing
+to the east, you behold nothing save the prairie and the sky,--yes! a
+herd of buffalo are grazing yonder, and a long caravan of wagons, drawn
+by mules, and flanked by armed men who ride or go afoot, winds like an
+immense serpent, far over the plain.
+
+Three hundred emigrants, mechanics, their wives and little ones, who
+have left the savage civilization of the Atlantic cities, for a free
+home beyond the Rocky Mountains--such is the band which now moves on in
+the light of the fading day.
+
+The leader of the band, a man in the prime of young manhood, dressed in
+the garb of a hunter, with a rifle on his shoulder, stands beneath the
+solitary oak, gazing upon the caravan as it comes on. His face bears
+traces of much thought,--perchance of many a dark hour,--but now his
+eyes shine clear and strong, with the enthusiasm which springs from
+deep convictions:
+
+"Thus far toward freedom! Here they come,--three hundred serfs of the
+Atlantic cities, rescued from poverty, from wages-slavery, from the war
+of competition, from the grip of the landlord! Thus far toward a soil
+which they can call their own; thus far toward a free home. And thou,
+O! Christ, who didst live and die, so that all men might be brothers,
+bless us, and be with us, and march by our side, in this our exodus."
+
+The speaker was the Socialist,--Arthur Dermoyne.
+
+And let us all, as we survey the masses of the human race, attempting
+their exodus from thraldom of all kinds,--of the body,--of the
+soul,--from the tyranny which crushes man by the iron hand of brute
+force, or slowly kills him by the lawful operation of capital,
+labor-saving machinery, or monied enterprise,--let us, too, send up our
+prayer, "O! THOU of Nazareth, go with the People in this their exodus,
+dwell with them in their tents, beacon with light, their hard way to
+the Promised Land!"
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of New York: Its Upper Ten and Lower
+Million, by George Lippard
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 57785 ***