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"■■• i R76 * •♦' *1 , ;i'i;^^. ''"'^$, J'W. >' ™' *■■!■•■ ■ ■ ■ ■■ V ■ ■ ■■... • ■ ■ • ■ Jr**'', .V" r I ? : .^^■^■i(:-' ,1 '%'. '^^''.y-i^ st'-'>. I-.,* "'■^'^ p^\ ■*;| .■,/:■ . ■*■ ■^' ■• ■ '^ ■•.I '■■■;:. 'i- V ■■?•/.■ ^ ^ / ..-'V ■..■* ■ ■■■■A-'Kif^.X . ■ " ■>l;i- ;f / ' ■,■•'■ • ■;,;. /.,'i< ^ -if' ?<^ /■ W'' .^ * i ;Uii ,■ s r I / ^ THE -«Si' BABES IN THE WOOD: Ji. ITRJ^G-IO COIuTEIDTr. % SiiBtiS of t^t Italian Itijolntbn nf 1848. BT JAMES DeMILLE, Author of " The Dodg* Club," " The American Baron," etc., eU. # -— t V GO tz I (0 IC > o < DC CQ BOSTON: WILLIAM F. GILL & COMPANY, (SUCCESSOBB TO THE OLD STAHD OF BUEPARD IC OlU.,) 151 Wabrinoton Stbbbt. 1876. 'HP^' Bntorod according to Act of CongrcM, in the year 1874. by WILLIAM F. GILL 8c COMPANY, In the office of the Librarian of Congreaa, at Watililngton, M* Fbsbs of Bonmrvu. Ann CnDscini.T^ Boston. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. PAQB. Thk fair ukkhowii — Charih of a lotklt btramoer— a smils 9 CHAPTER II. Thr lotblt stranger makm hrrsklf quite at home — All thk others do oreisanok It CHAPTER III. The woes of McOintt — He loses his beactt and dares not show his face to his beloved. .18 CHAPTER IV. Littlb Kosbttb — Alone in the world — The police on her track >1 CHAPTER V. The inconsolable one— The most faithful of spouses — Evils of marrtino a widow... 22 CHAPTER VI. Littlr Rosette among the Philistines 2* CHAPTER VII. Old friends— a rapturous meetino — Associations and reminiscences of the past 29 CHAPTER VIII. Thbbb stbinos to one bow— A too impressible youth 88 CHAPTER IX. Jealous of himself *® CHAPTER X. Too popular — Rosette is misunderstood - *0 CHAPTER XI. Vert unladylike — No one treats her with common politeness 44 CHAPTER XII. ' A VICE LOVER — Kitty's peculiar position 46 CHAPTER XIII. Hard on the little oirl — Too young for such a position 48 CHAPTER XIV. Tub good papa — His amiable ways 48 /^33999 J II CONTENTS. CHAITEK XV. ThB MAmiA REHUKES THB PAPA 49 CIIAPTEB XVI. ThB lIAMMA'a LAST SHOT Jj CHAPTER XVII. MoGlNTY ANNODNCBU UIS OWM DEATH 54 CHAPTEU XVIII. McGlNTY PttOIfOUNCKS HIS OWM FDNEHAL DISCOURSE fift CHAVTEK XIX. MoGlRTY BIDS AN ETKRNai. FAREWELL 60 CHAPTEn XX. ' HbRB this story enters llPOjr a TRBXEMDOUS series of catastrophes, which are I'NEQUALI.ED IM modern fiction 53 CHAPTER XXI. Thb mvmma at ray — Bearding the lion — The prefect op the municipal police is monplu88ed (jo CHAPTER XXII. AwruL doings — A brave fight 63 CHAPTER XXIII. LiTTLB ROSETTB ARRESTED AND IN THE HANDS OF THE POLICE C3 CHAPTER XXIV. Before the awful bar (;6 CHAPTER XXV. The CRITICAL moment 70 V CHAPTER XXVI. Thb papa's perplexities — Hb concludes to abjure his principles 72 CHAPTER XXVII. A new excitement — Affright 74 CHAPTER XXVIII. Tub daughter of General George Washington 76 CHAPTER XXIX. Tbk shadow of an impending doom 80 CHAPTER XXX. Tbb hbad-quartbrs of thb insurgents — Tub men m red ...83 Pbi] An:i The Tus The Thb Tw< Thb Th« Is I Thk The The c/ The The Ano .r>4 .55 .74 CONTENTS. Ill CHAPTER XXXI. Priwcks!! Robettr 84 CHAPTER xxxir. Anxious inqdiries — Desolations and DBSPAins 86 CHAPTER XXXIII. The MAMMA AND THE Henulisii Hahbasbaoor 88 CHAPTER XXXIV. TUE WANDERINOS OK TUB MAMMA 91 CHAPTER XXXV. The mamma finds hbst 92 CHAPTER XXXVI. The mamma disodises uebsblf, and plumqes into the tiiruno 98 CHAPTER XXXVII. Two forlorn damsels 95 CHAPTER XXXVIII. The very volatile Fred 97 CHAPTISR XX!XIX. The faithful Oeassato 99 CHAPTER XL. Is it a mock CARICIVAL? 101 CHAPTER XLI. The papa takes to a disocise — A despebatb venture 108 CHAPTER XLII. The papa as lord biou chancellor 105 CHAPTER XLIII. The papa on his way to the judgment hall — He decides to trt and sentence politi- cal OFFKNDKRIi 100 CHAPTER XLIV, The spider and the fly 107 CHAPTER XLV. The reds — An operatic scene 109 CHAPTER XLVI. Another operatic scene — Rosette led out to bb shot Ill IT Thb wromo pahtt. CONTENTS. CHAPTER XLVII. CHAPTER XLVIII. A lOLBMN PROUI8K. CHAPTER XLIX. Okassato and Krkd. CHAPTER L. MoQiKTT AMU Cart in perpi-kxitt. CHAPTER LI. Th« rotonua — Scena ! CHAPTER LII. TmB illustrious PRIBONRRS — ANOriSH OF THE PAPA CHAFFER LIII. 8iR Edobnb Mbrrivalr. CHAPTER LIV. Thb first explosion. CHAPTER LV. Thb bbcond explosion.. CHAPTER LVI. Thb GRAND explosion of all. CHAFfER LVII. Final explosion CHAPTER LVIII. Tub btbawberrt. CHAPTER LIX. Shtlock and tub pound or flesh CHAPTER LX. Tub wedding dat. CHAFFER LXI. Out o» the wood — Well — All right J CHAPTER LXII. Rbuarks bt thb papa. .114 .11« .119 .U'l .129 .124 .127 .129 .131 .183 .135 .180 .187 .140 .141 .143 .119 ' THE BABES IN THE WOOD. ..KM ...12» ..127 ..181 ..183 .186 ..141 .142 \ \ GHAFTBB I. THI TAXB CNXNOWM— €BAiUf8 Or A LOVSLT BTBANOIB— A SMUA "Mountain paH and lonellneM; Enter beauty In diatreu." Tbb above title, dear reader, is purely flgura- tire. As Artemua Ward uied to say, it must tie "touk saroastlo." A little explanation may, therefore, be advisable. To explain, tben : By the " Babes " is meant the following In- Dooent and inexperienced parties: 1. Little Eoaette, 6. McOlnty, 2. Kitty, 6. Gary, 8. 'Arriet, 7. The Papa, 4. Fred, 8. The Mamma. And by the " Wood " is meant Italy in 1848. With these preliminaries I proceed to hoist tbe curtain: It was about twenty-five years ago, in tbe dear old days— tbe days whenPlancus was con- sul— the days of our hot youth. Those were tbe days for an Italian tour;— days when we rolled along in our own car- riages, without any bother about rnilwaya; —days of douones, and douanicrea; of pass- ports; of gen-da/rmes; of spies; of abirrl; of every currency under Heaven ; and of a sepa- rate State every half a dozen miles. We bowed to tbe Austrian Viceroy at Milan ; stared at tbe King of Sardinia; toolc off our bats to the Gnind Duke of Tuscany; attended the leveeof tbe Duke of Parma; bought the likeness of the Duke of Modena; Idssed tbe toe of Hit Holi- ness the Pope; and gave three oheers for the King of Naples. All these were potentates in Oil these several States in tbe old days. But now all these have gone. Italy if on* nation, with one customs duty, and one our- reuoy, and one ruler. Nothiuff but railroads everywhere! The Romance of the country ha* gone, and nothing is left for us old fogies but to mumble with our toothless jaws over— tii* good old days. About twenty-flve years ago, then, in thes* good old days, a solitary horseman migbt have l>een seen slowly wending liis way over th* road that leads from Spoleto to Terni. This road crosses the Apennines at a point whiob la over four thousand feet aliove the level of the sea, a ciroumstanoe which makes it to those who may be on theaaoent rather a heavy thing in roads. Suoli, at least, seemed to be the opinion of our friend the horseman— Fred Fotherby; who, after aooompanying a carriage some distance, had concluded to ride ahead and wait for bis friends at the summit. With this intention Fred went on until he reaohed tbe highest point, and tben stood and looked around. Tbe scene here was most mngnifloent. All around him arose tbe summits of giant moun- tains, peak beyond peak, and crest lieyond crest, like waves of tlie sea. all covered with glistening snow and ice; while over them here and there rolled vast masses of mist and clouds. Lower down there appeared wooded slopes, long declivities, and perclpitous olilb, altemi^ ting with white villages and crumbling towers; while far awny migbt be discerned a narrow, green valley, through which wound a slendofi silver stream. The young fellow, before whom ail this lay spread, seemed to have somethin;^ of that poeti- cal enthusiasm whiob the youthful trav«Aer Is 10 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. apt to feel in tbia romnntio land; and aa he looked around he niurniured : " ItaUa: oh, ItaUa, thou who hut The fatal gift of beauty I" The remainder of the stanza is yery well known, and, therefore, it is sufficient for me to do like the minister on Sunday, and give out only the first two lines. Another reason for giving 01) this much is, that Fred Fotberby did not qu> ■ any more himself, for he stopped short as something caught his eye. It was only a little distance down the road, and he had not seen it before, on account of the back-ground of trees, which made it less oonspiouoiia. The sight, however, wat^a start- llag one. It was a wrecked carriage, with a woman standing near it, and a man buay with the horses. Fred could see Hint tlie carriage had been going in the same direction with him- self—that is, toward Terni, and that it must have broken down here after crossing the summit. This sight at once, as a matter of couri^e, drove away all other thoughts, and Fred hur- ried to ihe spot as fast as he could. As he reached it be found himself in the presence of a scene which excited the strong- est emotions within his sympathetic and highly impressible bosom. The carriage was broken, the horses well nigh unmanageable, the man, who was evidently the coaohman, singularly inefficient; but the woman was the centre of the scene. She was a lady of very remarkable beauty. Blender and elegant figure ; complexion some- what dark; eyes dark, large and lustroua; hair rippling in luxuriant waaaes down her brow, and falling behind her head. She was dressed in a traveling suit, with the most perfect tuste, and every part of her attire indicated the latest Pari^iian fashion. Her little hands, beautifully gloved, were clasped together; and as Fred drew up, she raised her face, and turned toward liim those large, dark, melting, liquid, lustrous orbs of hers, with such a look of unfathomable dbtreas, and such a glance of pathetic appeal, that he could not stand it, but flung himaelf at once from the horse, and would have flung bimielf at the lady'a feet also, if he had not •uddenly thought better of it, and oonoluded DOt to do it just then. Such a proceeding, he saw, would be quite unwarrantable with a lady to whom he hud never been introduced. So he took oft his hatt and discloaed a crop of fine, curly, brown bolr, and abroad, frank brow ; while hia honest, boy- ish eyes fixed themselves eagerly upon the beautiful stranger; and he endeavored most desperately to think of something to say, but, unfortunately, without being able to think of a single thing. The lady, however, did not wait. She herself made the overtures, and be- gan in a low and gentle voice, which gradually grew fuller and more sonorous. What she said was something like thi!> : funeslessimn contratempo I male diztone ! dio mio qualcheaguajntaggine I ignorantac- clochiha rovinato la mil oauural TbeBe were followed by many other words of the grand rimbombamento order, but, unfoi^ tunately, they were all Italian, and of that language our young friend, Fred, understood not one word. He listened, however, to the lady's remarks v. ith the most profound atten- tion ; for the latly's voice was sweet and muoi- oal beyond description, and as the sounds trickled forth from her ruby lips it seemed to Fffd as though he was listening to beautiful music. And this, be it remarked, was not owing BO much to the language aa to tlie voice of the speaker; for I have known young men who have experienced the same emotions while lis- tening totheooromonest English words as they fell from the lips of Beauty ; and I dare say that under the same circumstances the same has been felt by other yuung men with regard to High Dutch, Low Dutch, S'vedisb, Bohemi- an, Russian, Tuikish, Feeje* an, Chinook, and Pigeon English. As she spoke she pointed from time to time with one of her little gloved hands to the car- riage, while with the other she made gestures which were so expressive, that of themselves they convey a meaning to Fred. For the Italians have constructed n natural language out of sign and gesture ; and the intelligent reader knows, of courtie, that about this very time the good Bomba, King of Naples, made a. speech to his rebellious Lnzzaroni by means of gestures only, and the speech was not merely intelligible, but was an immense suooess. Od •H THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 11 i i this oconsion the lady's gestures were quite aa clear and eloquent as those of the royal Bomba ; the little gloved baud was a tongue wliich spoke of her misfortune; while, to add to the effect, the couohman cauie ranging himself up behind liis mistress, chiming in, so to spealc, with eloquent gestures of his own, with innumerul>le shrugs and contortions, winks, and grimaces, and ex- pressions of face thut went through the whole gamutof woe. And, so tlie end of it was, thnt after all, Fred succeeded in understanding pretty well all tlint was snid ; und as lie feasted bis eyes on this figure of elegant despair, of beauty in distress, be could uut lielp recalling the words which he bad just been murmuring, wbiuh words now rung in his ears with a jing- ling Anacreontic measure— " Italia; O. lUUa; On tby Bweet brow is sorrow I " At length tlie lady seemed to change from theniirrative to the interrogative style, and to nsk him questions. This, of course, brought matters to a crisis, and Fred, in tliis dilemma, could do nothing else than resort to the lan- guiige of nature. He pressed bis band upon his heart and solemnly shook his head. At this the lady seemed struck by a new discovery. Sbe looked at bim more curiously, and at lengtli said : "Parlez vous Franoais, Monsieur f" •• Well, no," said Fred ; "I don't parly Fran- oy, nor Ituleanny, either, I'm sorry to say." "Tedescho?" asked the lady again. " Me no savvy," said Fred ; " fact is, me don't speak notin' 'cept Inglis." " Ingelees, ah?" repeated the lady. She gave a smile which pierced Fied's heart. '*Ob, well, I spik Ingelees leetle peet mysef." " Hurrah 1" cried Fred ; " you speak English, do you? That's splendid, you liuow. And now won't you let a fellow do something for you?" Fred spoke this last sentence in a coaxing, wheedling tone, and with a smile which was graciously responded to by the lady, who gave bim another, full of sunshine. "Oh, Signer," said sbe, "you baf come to ■afa me from destruzione. I tiaf come dees morna from Spoleto. I go to Roma. I baf ar- rife here an de wheel baf broka. Sono despe- rata. Dio miol Sono perduta. Dees C!oo- cbiere haf so much of de sguajatoggine dat e ees no good, an' I sail baf to maka mysef un> da de oblignzioue to Signer. Dio Miol oome sono malagurosa ! Dio mio !" This was spoken with very sweet modulft- lions of the broken English, and accompanied by very pretty and expressive gestures. Her ejaculation of "Dio mio" sounded exactly like the English "Dear uie," which, nonsensi* cul as English, may possibly be an importation of the Italian as used by this lady. Fred felt quite spellbound at the beauty of her face, the witchery of her glance, the wonderful mobil- ity of her features, and her never ending clinuge of expression. He bad no idea in par- ticular as he looked upon her, except a very vague one of a " dear gazelle " that bad oome to glad bim with its soft, blu<;k eye. " We not know de oder ones of us," said she, after a pause, during which the eyes which were fixed upon bim went on steadily deepen- ing their fascination. "Bisogna dat we af de cognoscenza. Permitta, I sail presentare mysef. Signer, I am de Cuntessa di Carrara, an sail be unda de obligazione iufinite to Sig- ner." Saying this, she held out her little band. Fred took it, and then and there caved iii ut- terly. In the space of about five minutes this beautiful stranger had come, seen, and con- quered. As that little band lay in bis, the touch thrilled through every fibre. His brnia whirled in a tumult of excitement. So con- fused indeed was he, that be forgot to let her hand go. He held it tight. His eyes were fixed on her. Sbe on her part regarded bim with her sweetest smile. " The Countess " be repeated. " Carrara," said sbe. Fred looked at her with all his soul in bis eyes. Then be started to pronounce her name. "Caral" said he. This was the nearest he could oome to it. The Countess seemed for a moment embar^ rassed, and withdrew her band with a hasty movement. But the next instant, ns though reassured, her face resumed its former expres- sion. "Eet is not dat," said she. "Eet Is Car* ra-ni— but. Signer, you af not tell me your name." 12 THS BABES IN TUB WOOD. Fred did uot quite understand why the Coiinteta bad ao sbarply snatched away her band, and was afraid that he had unintuntion- ally given offence, but ifso itbad evidently been at once excused. That he should lose his pres- ence of mind was certainly uot to be wondered at. To encounter a woman, beautiful as an Huuri, on the lonely Apennines, was a bewilil- ering thing. That she sliould be a Countess, young, charming, in distress, and requiring bis aid; tliat she should seelc his assist- ance, and put sucli trust in him as to in- troduce herself— all this was most unusual, most surprising, and at the same time, most delightful. "And now. Signer Fodairbe," said she, after Fred hnd given liis name, " weel you af de generosita to essnmiuare dees vettura, an prove to try eef you can geef me de assist- enzaT" " Oh— yes— yes— of course," said Fred, rous- ing himself to act. "By Jove, I forgot all about it. Where Is it, and what's tlie mat- tert" The Countess turned towards the carriage, and Fred did the same. The Countess stooped slightly, so OS to point out the damaged part, and then went on to explain all about it, loolc- Ing at Fred, and pointing to the hind axle, which was broken. Fred got on his knees to see better. But instead of looking at the broken axle, our infatuated young friend fas- tened his eyes on the Countess, whose head, bending low, was close by his, and who from time to time turned to bewilder him with tier deep glanoes. Something In his expression seemed to startle her. In fact, it must be con- fessed that it would have been strange if she bad not been stn^tled. For there was the young fellow on his knees before her, with his eyes fixed on her in a sort of rapt abstrac- tion. She caught this glance, and her eyes rested for a moment as she looked. The un- happy youth was evidently very jfar gone. He was trying to utter her name. And thus as their eyes met, he again [sighed out— "Carol" For a moment a smile played about her features, and then, giving a pretty little ges- ture of despair, she threw up her eyes with a ■igb, and said: " Dio roiol Signor Fodairbe, eet is my belief dat you are saying your prayers." At this Fred jumped hastily to his feet, and began a long apology, but was interrupted by a noise up the road, at the top of the hilL CH^.PTER II. THK U)TBLT 8TBANGBR MAKLj HEBSIXr QTTIIB AT HOME— AU. THE OTBEB8 DO OBKISANCT, " Lords and ladies all make way — Hither comes my lady gay." It was a traveling carriage, drawn by four horses, and accompanied by a gentleman on iiorseback. The moment that he caught sight of it, Fred dropped abruptly out of bis dream, and became aware of the realities of life. "Ah I" said he to the Countess, "these are my friends, and, if you have no objection, I will get you a seat in tlie carriage, and I'm sure they will be very happy to take you the resiof yuurway. Your coachman can waithere, you know, and we can send back help from the next stopping place." "Oh, Signor," said the Countess, "you are too kind, nu de obligazione sail be infinite. MaDiomioI how sail dey find place?" By this time the carriage bad reached the place, and stopped, while all looked on in evi- dent surprise at the scene before them. It contained an elderly gentleman and three ladies, two of whom were in the bloom of youth. " Mrs. Patterson," said Fred. " permit me to make you acquainted with the Countess de Car— rara. Slie has unfortunately met with an accident, and I know your kindness of heart so well that I have promised her a seat in your carriage as far as the next stopping place, un- til her own can be repaired." Mrs. Patterson was a lady cf about fifty, over-weighted as to flesh, and decidedly over- dressed. At this introduction she surveyed the lovely stranger with profound respect and visible embarrassment. " Well, Mr. Fotherby," said she, after a pause, directing her remarks to Fred. "I'm sure I feel deeply honored, and would be a proud woman to 'ave tbo ?M>nor of her ladyship's ^ THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 13 gracious company, if lo t)e as how tbat she'll oondescend to hacoept hot the same, which itV certii];;ly better than footing it along theae mounting roads, though bein' as she's a Coun- tess, she mayn't lilce our 'umble company, au' very welcome all the same, an' I'll set on BllUe's lap, and " *'8h— mammal" said one of the younger ladies, turning quite red witli mortification, and pulling her mother's ample dress. " Papa, dear, please get down and let the Countess bare your place." The Countess stood smiling and beaming I upon the ladies, and looked excessively gra- Icious and amiable; while Mr. Patterson, obedi- lent to his daughter, likeagood papa ns he was, Igot out with very creditable alacrity, and [placing his port ly frame before the Countess, ■held out his hand. " My dear," said he, taking the little hand |wbich was extended, " I feel /lonored— I do, [indeed. This 'ere Is a proud moment, an' 'ere's rishin' you many 'appy returns." With these words he bowed low, and mo- |tioned with a graceful wave of his band to the seat which he bad just left " 'Arriet," he continued, " 'old out your 'and in' 'elp 'er ladyship up." 'Ma! I Traid," said the Countess, "dat Idrif fou from your seat, an' dat luoos nefare be." "Ob, your ladyship I" said Mrs. Patterson, there's lota of room. You needn't think fou'll scrowge ua." "Mamma, dear," said the vigilant daughter rho had spoken before, "you come and sit Btween us— there's plenty of room, and then ) CouBtess can " 'No, no," said Papa Patterson, interrupting ber, " leave mother where she ia. 'Arriet, I'll Xo on the box." This arrangement was evidently the best, md old Patterson at once clambered up to the Iboz, which he regained after a somewhat pro- llonged effort; while the Countess, with many Igrateful apologies in her sweetest manner, I took her seat in the carriage. Mamma Patterson then solemnly introduced |the others. ' My lady," said she, " allow me the honor presentin' to you my darter 'Arriet, which lie's a young lady of " But (he remark was interrupted by a twitch of Mamma Patterson's dress, administered by the unhappy 'Arriet, who seemed sensitiTe to an undue extent about her fond jother'i little deficiencies, and made it her miai.on In life to keep her straight. 'Arriet herself was by no means bad form— tall, fine shape, full bust, pleasing features, fashionable out, general air of one who had enjoyed what the boarding- schools call "superior ad vantages." The Coun- tess bowed sweetly, and looked at the other lady. "This, my lady," said Mamma Patterson, "is my daughter 'Arriet's friend, Mistt Kitty Kinnear." Miss Kitty Kinnear was very different from 'Arriet. She was petite; she was a blonde— a sweet, round face, wiiii an exquisite smile. The aspect of Miss Kitty denoted perfect cheerful- ness and self-contentment. The horseman had diamounted on bis first arrival, and talked with Fred, who now led him up by bis arm, aaying: " Countess, allow me to make you acquainted with my friend, Mr. Smithers." The Countess bowed. " I am ver' 'appy," said she, " to make your ooquoscenza, Signer Smeedair, an' of all de societa." Arrangements had now to be made about the wrecked coach. After some consideration, the coachman was directed to follow with the horses, so as to bring back a new vehicle from Temi; while Papa Patterson's coachman was left behind to watch with Fred's horse. By this arrangement, Fred was able to secure a seat close by the Countess, which seat was the coachman's box. Here he placed himself, and took up the ribbons with the air and attitude of a master charioteer. And now crack went the whip, and away went the carriage, bearing with it Fred and his fortunes. Papa Patterson sat silent for a time, and at length projected a broad face over his shoul- der, that beamed on those in the carriaii;e like the full moon from behind a oloud. '* Loo-wheezer," said Papa Patterson. " Well, duokyr' said Mamma Patterson. " I hope you're maldn' it pleasant down there for 'er ladyship." " Oh, I'm doin' my 'umble dooty; neTer joa 14 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. niiud, lovey; if you're ooiufortable, I am— an' 'er ladyship, too, I 'umbly 'ope." After a few minutes the full moon appeared onue more, and it was again : " Loo-whetszer." " Well, duoky." " P'raps 'er ladyship's 'ungry ; offer 'er some of tliem sangwitches." Now, these remarks, and others like tliem, appeared to afford the fair 'Arriet exqiiisiti- pain, at least as far as the expression of her face could show; hut she made no reraarlc. She sat there, an example to all daughters who are unfortunate enough to have uu- grammatioal parents, and with the meekness of a martyr at the stake. As for the Countess, she did not appear to be aware of anything out of the way; hut, perhaps, tier limited ac- quaintance with English prevented her from detecting the coarseness of accent that marked the dialect of papa and mamma Patterson ; or perhaps, again, she was too much of a lady to appear to be conscious of it. At any rate, she took no notice wliatever of these things, but sat there, like a benignant being from an- other sphere. Fred was dose by her on the coachman's box, driving. He did not say much. Not because he was not talkative, for generally he was never at a loss for anything to say among the ladies— the young dog. On the present occasion, however, he said not a word. Either he bad not yet emerged from that state of mental ooma into which be bad been thrust by the Countess, or the task of driving down a mountain side, with four gallant, prancing ohargers, gave sufiQcient otioupation to brain aa well m muscle. The burden of the entertainment was con- ducted by 'Arriet. *Arriet felt, indeed, to a painful degree, the responsibility of her pre- sent nituatitn. The duty devolved upon her of entertaining this noble stranger. Yet, for Bosue time after the noble stranger's advent, Harriet sat sllentand distrait. She was a prey to profound embarrassment. Never before bad ■be come into close contact with nobility. Here was a Countess, face to face with her. She felt that strange complicated emotion common to Englishmen and Englishwomen in the presence of Rank and Title— that impulse to kneel down in speechless awe, combined with an equally vehement self-assertion. A struggle, therefore, raged in 'Arriet's gentle bosom, and in the play of emotion mind oame to grief. She sat for some time, her eyes fixed upon the cliin of the Couiittss with a glassy stnre, hor mouDi curved into a rigid smile, and tier thoughts hopclestily wool-gathering. The proud coiisciniisncss of this glorious and un- paralleled situation, did not desert her, how- ever, but underneath all her embarrassment sustained iter. This elevation of soul waa manifest in various movements, which might be called bridling, or purring. And it was in the midst of a scries of bridlings, and purrings that 'Arriet addressed herself to the task of entertaining her company. " I hope, my lady, that you feel yourself quite comfortal)leT" " Oh, si vis." answered the lovely stranger ; " eet is mos conveniente, and I am vary ob- ligata." A pause. 'Arriet bridles and purrs. Then a rcmarlc of startling abruptness, which was utterly inconsequential. " Is hia Holiness quite well, my lady?" The little Countess frowned, and tried to fathom the meaning of the remark. At length she seemed to comprehend it. " Ees Oliness, ah ! I not know. I belief dat e is." " Have you ever been in England, my lady t" The Countess shook her little head with aiad smile. "Your ladyship don't know Sir Alexander Murphy, I suppose?" This personage was the only human being with a title with whom 'Arriet had ever before come into any connection. He was the Mayor of Tiddleham, who bad been knighted on the occasion of a visit of Her Majesty, and who, as patron of a boarding-school, had once given to 'Arriet a prize for good bcliavior. " Sarallasandamnffa " The Countess re- peated this with a puzzled look. " What ees it?" " An English nobleman," said 'Arriet, with some pride. "Oh I an Ingelees nobilemon, so." "I haven't associated much, as yet, with the Continental aristocracy," said 'Arriet, "aod ■; \ THE BABBB IN THE WOOD. 18 have not beeu able to compare them with our EogHsh nobility." The Countess seemed to talie nil this sen- tence into her little bend, turn it over in the recesses of her brain, ponder over it, puzzle about it, and anally give it up as nn insoluble conundrum. Finally she adopted what seemed to hor the easiest way of getting out of it, which was by smiling nud throwing an amiable lool£ at 'Arriet. Whereat 'Arriet bridied and purred, and launched forth into a biography of Sarnlla- sandamatfa, which was intended to convey to the Countess a faint idea of the grandeur of the Patterson connection. All this time the carriage was rolling down the long winding way. And now shall I take advantage of this to describe the scenery that presented itself along the way. Shall I basely button-hole the reader, and bore him with an account of the winding road, the bordering trees, the wooded slopes, the ravines, the gloomy gorges, the ruined castles, the cluster- ing hamlets, the rolling clouds, the woods, the groves, the vineyards, the — iu short— but I for- bear. Let the reader Qll all this in with his own Imagination. Papa Patterson, mounted on the box, felt a sustained desire to do the agr>;eable to his fair guest. He believed that he ought to make it pleasant for the Countess. He deplored the silence of his wife, and her lack of proper spirit. In vain he called again and again to "Loo-wheezer." At last he concluded to buckle to himself. He turned and cleared bis throat to attract attention. The Countess also turned and raised her eyes. Very beautiful were those eyes, and to Papa Patterson thought. "Ehem I- -fine weather this, my lady ! " said he. " O, Dio It lo' magutflca!" said the Countess. "Native of these parts, my lady?" inquired Papa Patterson, feeling more emboldened. The Countess gave an amiable smile, which be understood aa conveyiqg an assent, but which the Countess might have given forth with a less specific idea. " Fine agricultural country, my lady," he continued. " Bellissima," said the Countess. " Fine soeneiy," continued Papa Pattenon, giving a flourish with his arm, so aitooompr^ bend in his gesture the univene In generaL The CountcMs, smiling, aoquieaoed. " And yet, my lady," said the papa, " the beauty is only on the outside. It's ony awhit- ing'd suppulchre." The Countess still smilele, agree- able, accessible, and all tbat. Her English was certainly a little mixed, and full of trifling mistakes in tbe use of words; such as to-mor- row for yesterday, ber for it, eat for driuk. come for go, bat for boot, fly for ride, cow for horse, iind so on, but it mattered little. NoTS.— [The Pap« is William Pattemon, Esq., oom- mouly called Billy Patterson, and uomotimps Pill Patterson; very rich, latterly banker or money lend er; also owner of a meeting-house, in vhloh he holds forth himself; and now taking a tour on the Con- tinent for the benefit of self and family. And he made his money by Patterson's Pills, which, with his Plaster, Powder, and Patent Medicines general- ly, are well known through the medium of adver- tisements all over the Continent of Europe. And If 'Arriet's Papa isn't good enough for her, all I can say is, that she couldn't 'lelp that.] CHAPTER III. THK WOKS OF MOOINTT— BE LOBKS HIS BEATTTT AND DABE8 NOT SHOW HIS FACE TO HIS BB- LOVSD. " Poor HoOinty, what a pity I Who can break the news to Bitty." It Is Rome. A golden sunset over tbe eternal city. Our friend Smitbers strolls along tbe Gorso, and, entering a doorway, ascends to the second story, when he l^nocks at a door. "Come In." At this invitation be entered. "Well, Cary," said he, " I'm back again." At this a man sprang up from a lounge, and hurrying toward him, grasped bis band and shook it most furiously. " McGinty !" be ciied ; " by all that's holy. Mo- Ointy, me boy, welcome back ; and here's hop- in' that ye bring luck with ye. I didn't expect ye back so soon, and yer the very man of all mln I wanted to see. But come, sit down, quinch yer thirrust ; light up, and fire away." Witb these words Gary rolled out an arm- chair from a corner, pushed forward a flask of wine and a tobncoo-box, with pipes, tbat were on the table, and to these for some time the two devoted their attention. Our friend, who now was thus bailed as Mo- Ginty was a man of apparently about twenty- five years of age. His face was somewhat mark- ed by tbe small-pox, while its lower part was oonoealed by a short, heavy beard. Cary, his companion, seemed to be about ten years older, his beard and hair were long, after a fashion much cultivated in those days by artists in Rome ; while bis eyes were restless, keea and - .■■^.v^-~.^.-~— uUirMWaWH I THE BABES IN TUE WOOD. 17 penetrating. Both of tlu-in npoko with a sliglit Irisb accent, wliich was scarci'ly discernible, however, in MoQinty. " Well, mel)oy," said Cary, "I'm glad you're back. How goes it? How lias your busint'ss succeeded?" •' Well," paid the otlier, with a sigh, "its suc- ceeded, and it hasn't. Tiiu fact is I'm in an inferntilly tisht place, and I dor. t know but that I'll have to get your advice about it." "Advice is it? Sine ye may trust an Irlsh- mau to give you that, and lots of it, too; but as I don't happen to understand the least thing in life about thoseaffairs of yours, ye'll have to enli(;hten me l)y way of givin' me aclmnce to see how tlie ground lies." •'Well, Cary, my boy, I've made up my mind to that. It's a very delicate subject ; but I must have the advice of some sensible friend, or, atuny rate, talk it over, and have a discus- sion ; and, perhaps, in the course of the discus- sion somethiug'll turn up." "Sure, an' here's yer t^insible friend," said Cary, " and row ye may l)egin to pouer forth your coufldiucesas quick as yo like." "Its a lovo affair," said McGinty. "Didn't I know it, miself did," said Cary. "And divvlea oneof me can see how its go- ing to end." "Well, well, first of all, lets have the l)egin- nln'." "I'll tell you the whole story, from beginning to end," said McUinty, "and tlu'u you'll see whether there's any hope iu life for the likes of me." McGiuty eyed the bowl of liis pipe witli a glance of dismal gloom, and lieaving a sigh, continued: " It was three years ogo tliat I first saw her. It was in the "Vatican. I was copying a cherub out of Domeuichino. She came along in com- pany with a friend. 1 caught lier eye as she looked up at me. She gave me such a look — u look, sir, that made me tingle and quiver! From tliat moment I was lost." " I see— I see," said Cary. " A case of lovo at first sight. That's iminiutly Irisb, McGiuty, me boy— go ahead." " I was tninsfixed. Such a face I never saw. It was the face of Beatrice Cenoi, only it was a laughing face— only (he eyes, instead of over- flowing with tears, were brimming over uith fun. This was the face that haunted me— a laughing Cenci— a teasing, enticing, witching face, yet one with infinite posslljilities for ten- derness. At first I thought it was only my art that was concerned " " But soon found it was your lieart. Ah,. well, the old stoiy, you know." " Well, I ought to liave followed her at once, but was too stupid. Afterwords I saw lier again. I traced lier liouu", I found out iu-r name. She was witli her parents and some friends who were residing hero. Her name was Kilty Kiiinear." *'Not a l>ad name either, as names go,*' said Cary, lietween the whiffs of bis pipe. "The next thing was how to get acquainted. First of all, I moved to the saiue lodging house,, and secured apartments on the same floor. Out I found myself as far off as ever. English reserve made a barrier worse than many lilocks of houses. I then spent all my time ia trying to hit upon some plan of gaining her aequaiiif ttJice. First of ail I tried a very com- mon Tuse. I took a picture to their rooms,, pi'etending tliat it had been ordered by Mr^ Kiiinear. It was a failure. I didti't see her, but saw old Kiiinear himself, wlio proved to me most conclusively that he had never or- dered it at all. My next plan was a disguise. I had a smooth face in tliose days, so I put on a beard and appeared before old Kinnearas a cicerone m search of emiiloy. No go— snub- bed again. Old Kinnear preferred going about witliout a guide." "Ila! ha! ha! h'a! ha!" roared Cary. "All rigiit, old i)oy— no offence. I lilce tills, though. You're an Irishman to the back bone. Trot on, diiriint." "Well," continued McGinty. " I was at ray wit's end. What made it worse, was a convic- tion which I bad that she knew aliout nil my plans, that she was watching: me with keen in- terest and infinite relish, to see how I would manage it. It was sometliing iu her eye, for I caught iier eye once or twice; a demure face — but nn eye, by Jove, that held out a signal to me! Still there I was kept away by an infernal iuvisiliie barrier, from the woman that I was growing madder about every day. I used to haunt the hall, the courtyard, the conoicrgene. 18 TUE BABES IN TUE WOOP. I nnyliiid tbera everywhere. I thought of everything under the sun. At last I hit upon a desperate plan. I set fire to the bouse." "Set flrel Set Are to the housel Thunder and turt! You didn*t, though! Old Ireland for ever! Me boy, yt-r an honor to the sod. But how did ye eontrlve It?" " Oh, easy enough. I up8Pt thesciildino, and the hot conls happened to full on a jiile of clothing. It made no end of Kmoke, and Mazes too. Irushed out and went shouting fire! Ttie bouse was roused. The uproar was tre'nend- ous. Outcamenld Kinnear. I told him to fly for the love of Heaven. Out eanie tlio re!>t of them, and ' among tlieni. I ruslied up and wanted to save her. I ofTi-red to carry her down stairs. Well, sir, the look tiiat the little witch gave me! She understood it all. She informed me that she believed tliiit »\u' vould walk. And walk she did, very quietly, after her father; and the flre died a natinnl death liefore any one found out wliere it arose. "Well, after that I began to givo up, and thought of stopping up the air holes nnd usii)g my scaldino for another purpose. But I was saved from this by the sweet Kitty iiersilf, who no doubt saw desperation on my face, and understood that I had given it up. Weil, she took pity on me, and began to liave a very strong desire to study painting in oils— and as I was so convenient, slie tliought of me as an instructor; and so she asked the Concierge if lie thought I would be willing to give lessons in that same. Was 1 willing? Tliinkofit! Was I willing to go to Heaven ? Well, the road was open. There I vas at last, in the bosom of the family. "Now there's no way in life equal to giving lessons on anything;, if ye want to get on inti- mate terms with a friend — solitude, seclusion, proximity, everything combined to draw ua together. I took her to the galleries, I dis- ooursed on the old masters, I told her all about the different otyles, to all of which slie listened with unvarying attention, until at last I told ber something of a more tender nature, nnd she listened to that also. "But meanwhile I had satisfied the elders that I was their equal— that I had an inde- pendent fortune, and belonged^o a good fam- ily ; and was thus received on a friendly and familiar footing. Every night we had a rub- ber of whist. The old man was 111. He bad oome to Italy, in fact, chiefly for his health. At length he grew worse— malaria, I believe. I nursed lilm. He died almost in my arms. I went with them to their home in England, wliere they took his remains, and then I parted with Kitty, with the understanding that we should be married ut the end of a year. " Well, at the end of a year a terrible calam- ity befell me. I caught the small pox " Here McGinty paused, overcome with emo- tion. " Well ?" said Cary. McGinty sighed. " Did you get over It?" he asked, anxiously. "No," said McGinty, with a groan. " What !" exclaimed Cary. " It didn't prove fatal, I hope?" "No, not quite," said MeGlnty, in a dismal voice ; " but the next thing to it. I got over it —but I was not the same. It left me all marred and scarred, as you see. Yon couldn't imag- ine, to look at me now. the kind of man I once was— straight, sir, as a rush, with features ns classically and faultlessly regular, sir, as the face of Apollo— and now! wliy, the flist sight of this horrible, repuNlve face made me faint." Here McGinty groaned, and sought refuge in his friend's flask. "Well," he continued, "I wrote to Kitty, and told her that a terrible calamity had be- fallen me, which had prevented my writing to her for some time, nnd would make it neces- sary to postpone our wedding. The poor little darling liad been terribly frightened at my silence, and my letter was so welcome that the postponemeni. of the wedding was u slight matter. She never doubted my love— indeed, she couldn't, for all my letters were fuil of that. But now began the grand struggle. How was I to see her In my chanued form ? My face was not merely changed. It had grown horrible — simply horrible. As a mere artist, it shocked my sense of beauty. How terribly repulsive It would be to that woman who loved that other— the lost MoGinfy. So how could I present myself to her? She had engaged herself to ine when I had my old face. Under mv new face, she wouldn't even know me, much less lovw me. I should be n new man THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 19 14 entirely to her. 1 sliuuUl have to begiu all over iiguiii, uud win her love afvesliugainst the rivalry of the lost McGiuty? IIow could I go, being, us 1 8iiid, a different man entirely, and fuk her to marry me?" " Be dad," cried Gary, " for pure casuistry and metapbysioal refinement this bates the wurruld— so it does— but go on." *' Casuistry or not," said McQinty, "it's the truth— uud I had a great struggle and anguish for two loi'.g years. I wrote ineessanlly to her; letters of undying love uud Udelity. She thought, at drat, tliat it was so'me money diiB- oulty, but I soon showed her it was not that. Tlien she siiid nothing more nbout my 'caliim- ity,' Init wi'otu me iucfssunt protestations of fidelity uud love und trust — only— and tliere wus where the slioe piuched, she wislied to se. me, and urged me to oonie to her— and that was tlie very thing I couldn't do. Only think of that, will you. There's asitutilloii for you! There was she dying to see me — I dying to see her — and yet I dared not show myself. Some- times I felt most keenly that my conduct need- ed a fuller explanation, and that I ought to take her more fully iuto my confidence. Her implicit trust in me, her absolute faith, her lender love, all so touchiug, made me feel this the more. She loved me so much that I ought to tell her; I loved her so much that I could not tell her. I knew that the first sight of me would fill her with horror. 1 should lose her forever. She oould not lovo me. But I loved her too much to risk that. " Well, at last I couldn't hold out any longer. I determined to know my fate. At this junc- ture a happy thought sug;;ested itself. It was to go and see her under an ns.sumed name. Further reflection gave me a first rate plan. 1 told her that at last I was in a position to be married, but that I could not go to England in person for certain reasons, which I would ex- plain when we met — but that I would send her an intimate and valued friend to bring lier to me. She wrote back, in licr usual loving way, and assured me tluit if I were a captive in a dungeon she would rejoice to come to me whenever I asked, and sliare ray fate. Well, I sent on my friend. Now, you know, tlie friend was myself " "Yourself!" said Gary; "well, theaffairis get- ting complicated. But didn't she know you?" "Know me!" said McQinty, with soiuetliing like a wail of despair. " Uow oould she? Oh, but it was an awful moment that meeting! I trembled from bead to foot. 1 couldu't look at her. All my future was at stake. Shestood waiting for me to speak. I stood looking at the U(»or, with my scarred face hulf-coucealed. A Ijeard covered the lower part. I didn't wear any beard in the old days, and though I came as another person, I instinctively turned my fiice " "Look here, old fellow," cried Gary, " it ap- pears to me that you make no end of a fuss about your face. It's a very good looking face, I swear, now. It's very little marked. Ko one would notice it excei>t he had a micro- scope." "Oh, no," groaned McQinty. "You don't know what I once was. Why, Apollo him- self " " Oh, bother Apollo! cut on with yourstory, man." McQinty sighed. " Well, then," he continued, " tliere westood —she silent, and waiting politely, of course, for me to siiy something. I unable to say a word. I handed her, In silence, a letter which was from her McQinty, introducing me as hia friend Smithers. I didn't dare to look at her. She broke it, and stood a long time reading it. I stood like a criminal awaiting his sentence. At last she spoke. In a sweet, low voice, that trembled slightly from her deep ngitation. " ' I really hope,' she said, ' that you will par- don me, Mr. Smithers, for keeping j-ou stand- ing so long,' and then asked me to sit down. I stole a look at her, and I saw her eyes fixed on me. They were moist with tears, but there was a smile on her face. Oh, I knew it all— the tears were tears of joy at the thought of going tome, after so long a separation— yet there I was— myself— and dared not tell her. Oh, how I longed to catch her in my arms. How I longed to fling myself at hei' feet, and hide my face, and tell nil. But I did not. I could not. I could only stammer forth something and sit down. She sat near me— more lieautiful than ever— with all that delicate grace that I re- membered so well— that sweet expression— that soft, tender glance— tliat bright smile of 20 THE BABES IN TUE WOOD. iiifliiltu inirtbfuhif88, ao clinracteiigtlo of lit-r. And Hheiukud mo how I had li-ft Mr. MeGiiity t Think of that.Cureyl Ob.only thiakuf IhiU!" "My opinion is," said Ciiry, " tlmt you got things most iufernutly mixed up. How do you know thut sho didn't know you uli the time?" McGinty groaned. "Oh, you don't understand," said lie. "At any rate bIio couldn't rt'cognize mc, and slic didn't. Well, afti-r that I saw her constantly. She made arrangements to go on with a family that were about going to Italy — a daughter of tlie family had gone to school onoe along with her — the daughter not a had lot — liut the old people something superhuman in their utter vulgarity. Pill Patterson, you know, the Cockney medicine man— and only imiiglnc my Kitty going with that lot. But it was all her longing to get to me— to ra*'! and there was I at her elbow. Tliere woa I. I saw her every day. I talked, walked, rode, drove with her; slie was always gracious, always tender— so eonfoumiedly gra- cious and tender tliatlswear it was only by the strongest self-restraint that I kept myself from telling her how I loved her— as Smitliers —mind you, Smithers. Over and over again 1 was in danger of letting out my secret. For wbeuever 1 talked of the pai)t it was always MoOinty'8 past. My life, and that of McGinty, bad evideutly been inseparable. My distress was BO great, that I couldn't work up sufD- cient imagination to invent a new past, and so fell back on the old one. She noticed that. Then, again, that infernal name of Smithers Tvas for ever bothering me. I could never get accustomed to it. Finally, when I did get a little accustomed to it, I found myself grow- ing jealous of McGinty— thought of McGinty ns Bome former lover of hers— took to cursing biin for bis personal beauty, his graces, and bis numerous virtues." At this Carey burst into a laugh. " By Heaven," he cried, "McGinty, of all the Irishmen I've ever met with, I swear you do most honor to the ouldcountbry— the native land of wbim and oddity, and cross purposes and bulla. Only I'd give something for Ave minutes' conversation with your Kitty on the subject of Smithers " " For Heaven's sake, man, don't think of it — don't hint at It — you'd ruin me," cried McGinty. "If you do meet with her, guard my secret— like your heart's blood." " Oh! as to that, there is not the least danger In life— for, in tlie first place, I shall never see her. So, go on." " Well, I was saying," said McGinty, "that I grew jealous of myself. For you see I saw uli her grace, and beauty, and tenderness, and love, all lavished and expended on McGinty, while I— Smithers- only shone by a reflected light. Can't you oompreliend the position?" " I'll be banged if I can comprehend any- thing, you've got everything jumlded up so." "Well, we continued on these terms all the journey liere, and now things have come to a crisis. Here we are In Rome. Here she ex- pected to meet McGinty, Well, what now? where is lie? what con I do?" "Divvle take me, if 1 know, or can imagine. Ye'll have to find yer own way out of it, me boy." " Well, I hit upon a plon. I wrote a long let- ter at Florence, and handed it to her not long after her arrival here. It was from McGinty. It told her that he had to go to Naples, but hoped to be back again in time to receive her. It was full of undying love, and all that, of oouise, yet it must have been a bitter disap- pointment to her. Still she didn't show if, whatever she felt. She took it from me, and read it in berown apartment, so that I didn't see her *vhile she was reading it. It must be her faith that keeps her up, her confiding love that thinks no evil. McGinty, she thinks, is truth itself. I saw her to-diiy. She was, as usual- no trace of disappointment— but sweet, gracious, smiling, ever merry. I took her over the Vatican, and round to many of our old haunts— the dear old places of long ngo. Little did she guess that ttie miserable sneak, Smith- ers, is the old McGinty himself, of whom she talks so incessantly. " And now I'm fairly at my wit's end. How am I to keep it up? or, on the other bund, bow am I to end it?" "Well, me boy," said Cary, as McGinty paused, after this appeal, "nobody but an Irishman could ever have constructed such f\ tissue of difficulties around his way. There is ' 1 — iiBM THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 21 ouly oiiu tliiuK iov yuu to do. Owuup; toll ail ; make a eluuii lirenHt of it." " Too iutf," 8nid MLGliity. " Too lute. If I'd only told lier so at our IliAt muftiiig. If I'd only gouu on iiti tuysi'lf instead of Smitlu-r'<, it miglit imvu turui'd out all liKlit. Ilur lovo for MeOinty iui;;lit tlii-u Imvu survived lliusliixk of hii* clianged face. But now— what am I? Wiftili that I am! To her I'm not McGinty at all; I'm Smithcra. Another man I AtfSmith- vrs ;ilu! knows me. As Smitiiem ohe mui^t al- ways tliiuk of me. Dut, tu Smlthcrs I have not n my of hope, for all her ooul turns to the old McGinty. And he eau nover eoine again. So what oau I do, or how oau I ever get out of this?" " Well, old man, you've got to oome to it, you know. Tell her all. Appeal to her love." " No, no," said MeOinty. " It is too late. It i-au't be done. I'm Smitiiers; Hbe's got ae- oumstomed toSmithers. ItsiinpossihU^for her to warm up her friendly esteem for Smithers to the passionate love slie used to have for me us McGinty. Ulie no longer flushes up as in the old days. She uo longer feels tlie old thrill When I eome near. Wiiy? Because I'm Smith- ers! What does she care for me! Aud I couldn't marry her as a mere friend. I wuut her love —the old lovo tiiat McGinty had, and that old love Smithers can uever, uever gain !" CHAPTER IV. UnXE BOSETTE— ALONE IN THE WOIILD— THE POLICE ON HER TRACK. Into Benrice she must go. She'U escape incognito. SoMEfu:t.hur conversaliou f(>llowed, consist- ing eiiiefly of advice ou the part of Gary, for McGinty to make a clean breast of it, and lu- gubrious objections on the part of tlie latter. " Well, old boy," said Cary, " I'm glad you're back, at any rate, for you oau be of assistance, and cau do a great service to me, and to an- other who needs it. What you've just been telling me shows me a clear way out of my dif- flculty." " If I can do anything, you may count on me — ^no end — of course." " Well, you oau't do much ; but this family— these friends of yours— they're Just the ones." "For what?" "I'll explain. It's little Rosette, poor little thing." "Little Rosette ?" " Y. lie nlno ciiclonud oiiu for her. I nt oncH wcMit ofT afUT liur, iiiiil brought her h(!ro very m-iTutly, wHlioiif delay, nnd iioiu'loo aodii ; for not iiiort-'ii (If Icni iiiiiiiitcfi uftiT I pot htr (iff, tlie jxillco inailt' a ilcsctiit r)ii Mi rlvaloV rooms. Mild itilzi'd I'vcry article In It. '•Well, I Mio'.iied little I^iiO'lle us well a-< I couM. Slie'8 been lieru in liidiii;; llies(> two or three days; Imt, you see it Isn't thepidper thing, at all at all, foi the likes of tier— and it's luird for nie, too, iis well as mighty linharrn:<8- Iiik; for you !»ee she's ciyin' all tlie lime, and KO I'm at mt> nit's end. Tho only thing I havo hoped for, is to flml souu' relial)lt* Eng- lish family, who wouM hi* willing to reotnt'i* her and talce care of iier. It would he lU'ces- 8ury for tier to \io under nil nssumed name, for, of course, it would never do for Iut to he known as the lll('l*!*. Yiiii mail THtitiid. Vcrh\im gap." McGiiity noddt'd. " Whiit yoii'vu been tHliiig me iilwut yonr- jHir ictuiiulH iii(> of nil iifTiiir (if iiic own tliat'H hud n Vfiy jinat <'ffci't on nn- own llfr, iind nocounts al!<(> for tin- fai't of my lulu;; now c lont> man In tlio worruld, and diiitUlintH of ni> femali* Ix-loii^in^x, and, wlial's more, not wnnihiK imy. Your oonflilcncc tn nn- maUri* mi) fet'l inilnii'd to maUi- a ittuin of tlif j^amc, and who know.<* but (hut you may jn't Home hint that may help you. At any rate, a^ T feul in the humor, why I don't mind tcliin;: you. "You know that I've livid a varied life. I wn« fdncnted in Ireland, nt Mnynooih. 1 ^ot into trouble ther<>. with tli<> authorities throu^li thu mcanneM of ii fellow student that pre- tended to be a friend, and beti'ayed me in an affair which I was en;:iiired in, and of wliieli I had made Idm my cDiitldant. His natiie wa.x O'Keefe, I lie bloody traitor, llefiot ids reward In promotion, patronage, and favoi— while I found it convenient to retire. Well, tlien I wandered abroad, and finally found myself in Rome. I went to the Piopaganda, pueceeded In getting In, but finally decided not to be a priest. Il'samifihty convenient thin^r, thoiif;li, to have a priest's oduention, and then bo a lay- man. True, It don't give a man theadvnntn;;e which it did in the days of Henry the Eighth of England, or Syerre, King of Norway, both of Whom knew how to light the |)riei"io, in whlob position I maile money, possessed influence, and camo in con- taut with many distinguished men of all ranks and stations in life. "Well, things went on very well wifli me, till one day there wan an announcement of a visitor. Tlie title sent up was Monsignore Bally whack, a name which was quite unpro- nounceable by His Irainince. So I told His ImU idnce it was oidy «omo ownnidliawn uf an Irisli Padre coming to l)eg money from Idm, and got Instruutluns to receive the Irlaudeiu myself. " Well, I went to tlie anjince chamber, and t lure the door opened, and in came Monsig- n()r(> n:illy whack; and who do ye thiidc he was? Can y« ever guess? By the pipcTs of war, M<01nty, it was no other than that viper, O'Ki'i'fe himself. Tareanages! out didn't mo blood Imll at the sight of him— <'omin' there aa a lii;:li ecclesiastic, to hob nob wiil his lud- ninee! Well, I didn't pitch into him un the spot, though it might have been bettiT to have ha' .t out. I merely lang for servants, sent cut for gen-darnna, ai, I had monsignoi'e ar- resteil and paelced off to San Angelo in less than lirteen miinites, and there I lutended to keep him till he got enough of it. " Unfortunately, McOinty, me boy, man pro- poses, an' that'.< all. The viper hi.'d powerful rriends, it seems, who misseil him, applied to His Indninee, who at once ta.xed me with it. I saw tliat all would be known, and t'.uit I'd catch it hot and heavy, so I concluded to re- tire. T gathei'ed together all I hiul, and ran off to Florence, and afterwards to Vculci-. "Well, I llioiiglit I was nicely out of it, and began to cast about for a new occupation in life, wlien Fortune threw in my way a beauti- fid widow, whose husband iuul died not long before, leaving her inconsolable. Fortunate- ly, she was Irish, and that const iehutedn bund between us; and so, with this advantage in my favor, I lay siege to the beautiful widow, and at length achieved a conquest. "Now, this widow was the most Inconsola- ble widow that ever was known She told me frankly that she could never forget the late lamented— s»i' would carry his Image to her grave— and could never leave liis tomb. Well, I allowed all this thinking that time and a new husband woulil make it all right. She swore that she could only give me the fr.ig- ment of a broken heart; while I had sufficient vanity to believe that I could patch together that shattered organ till it became as cood as new. Under these circumstances we came to an understanding. But before we were mar- ried, she declared that she pined for her na- tive land, yet at the same time she could not 24 THE BAHES /Y THE WOOD. benr to In* |)iirtc(l from Iht dwir di'ooii«>(l luis- Imiul, niid tluTcfon- stipiihitt'd Hint we slioiilil onrry his romnliiA with us to Irdntul. Iiuii};- iiie wliiit u thiag tliat was! Fancy what ii iDiKlman I iiitisl I'.avc bo'ii to inalo< audi nil Dgrccint'iit ! Put all lovers arc mad, and I was of course as infatuated as any of thctn. ainial>l« and li^lit-lioaried of lueii ton mi«era- 1)1*1 wreck of my former self— a heinj? with tho heart of a inlsauthrope, and the exterior of an undertaker; and thus wu roauhcd DInio d'Os> xola. " FIcro the Alps rost" beforo us. It was the month of March. The road was blocked by "Well, we wj're married, and then b»'{j;aii all I snow. Avalanches were falliiur. We had to our woe. And now, me boy, yc'U hear a story ] wait a week before it was possible to luovo timt beats yours." Cary lefreshed liimsclf hcn> with a diau^hl Mala^irida. Every ilay I remonstrated, ar;;ued, coaxed, prayel, and wept. In vain. My wife's from the flask, and liavins thus {;athcred i fidelity to Mala;;rlda could not be shaken. So strength, proceeded : "We started off. There was our liifigajre— four trunks; and an enormous bo.x, seven feet I"ng, four feet wide, and tliree feet high, that weighed abtnit ten tons. It waslabelletl : S/t/'ior MnUtrjrIdd, care Tinw(U\i Cary. Esq., QdUvny, Irelnvd. Now, mind you, inside that box was my pre- decessor, Malajrrida, and I was expi'cti'd to take charge of that infernal machine all the way by land and sea to Oalway. " I confess that when I first saw it T faltered. I tried topi'rsuade my wife to send it by sea to Galw.'ij'. Hilt to this |)roi>osal sl.e would not listen for oiu' motneiit. She declared that she oonhl not part with him. lie was dearer to lier than all tlu« world. 81ie would be faithful to him till death. In fact, McOiiity, she was Irish— nobody but an Iiisliman could havi> thought of such a thing. Well, I couldn't re- sist bar tears, and so W(i started. " It was the first step that cost— yes, and cost money, too. Four miles of water till we got to the land, and Malagridn had to be carric in tlio snow whei-ever if was at all soft. Thiiiy cau- lonniers, armed with shovels, aceoinpanled us to dig him out. The first day brought u-i only paitly the way up the ascent. TIk! next day we foiled on, and only made n few miles. Wo had to encamp all night in agallciy. Next (lay wc went on, and an enormous avalanchu fell on Malagridn, smothei lug two horses and stunning one man. I was for leaving him, but my wife denounced me so l>ittcrly that leaved in. We dug out Malagrida, pitched the dead lioi'ses over the precipice, and marched along. Wespcnt anotlier night Inagailery, cneonnter- ed a few more avalanches, and at leiiglli rcaciicd the village of Simpion. The hospice is not far off, and I made n feeble attempt to persuad(< my wife to leave Malagrida here among fliesi' holy men, wlio would sing masses for the repos(> of his soul. But slie would not listen to it. There never was sucli an obstinate woman since the world began. " Well, so went a few days more, and nt lergfh the miglity task was achieved. Tho mountain was traverseil. We were at Brieg. Here 1 found myself still moreehanged. I was growing morose. I remonstrated less patient- ly and more sharply with my wife. She seated herself on Mala;:rida, and took refuge in tears. " Well, the funeral went on. We reached Villeiienf. Here we had to put Malagrida on board a steamboat for Geneva. Malagrida nearly fumble»r. I saw tlml, aftor nil, tlto joiiriioy had only begun. I felt thu litiiniHiitiii!; ixisition In wliicli I was tl><>l I, with n;y tulenta anil puraonal advuiitii^t'i), should 1)0 a sort of lackey to a niiscriiMi! crea- tun> like Mala^rida— a niist'ralile Italian, wlm might liavo been a Jew, as many Venetians are. Why slionlil my wife ellng to liini? In.>ia- tiate monster tliat slm was, eould not om* lins- ban<1 snfllee? My bilternesd l)roku fortli witli- out rest rail i "Then we eamo to Momt. Here wo had a battlo — tho battlo of Morat. I on tlie offensivi' — and I was as offensive as I could l)e;slieon tlio defensive, armed with tears and reproacli- t's. I told her that I couldn't he Malagrida's lackey any longer, and tliat she'd have to give liiinnp. She, on tlie otiier liand, called nie a cruel wreteli, wept torrents of tears. Invoked ht>r lost spouse, and imi)loi'ed Heaven to save her. "Well, we went on. Malagrida n>sled at Berne, at Basle, at Straslmrg, at Carlsruhe. There, on taking tlie train for Maj-cnce, 1 made a desperate mov(>, and had him left behind. But it was no use. After a fearful Bcene, I had logo liat-k for him. Then wo went to Cologne. "At this point, my ptitience was all gont>. I had grown to he a sour, morose, tierce, misera- ble misanthrope, furiously jealous of Mala- giiiia, and anxious for veiigeancMMm him. My wife was as obstinatu us ever. Besides, I got siek of llie idea of going to Ireland. I wanted to go to Paris. My wife insisted on going to England at least. 1 refused, unii'.ss >l\ti left Malagrida behinil. This she refused. "I put the offer to her point blank. I told hersln* must now uhooso between me and Mal- agrida, as there wasn't room for both of us. At that very nn>nK!nt, sh(! wa.s seated upon the infernal machine. I asked her to como to me. She wouldn't. Sli(> chose Malagritln. " W«'ll, I was as llrni as she was. I told lier that I would see her off. If she wished mi^ to. Sh() told niu that I would repent this bitterly someday. I informed her that I already ro- peiilod of my ants for the last month most bitterly. She burst into fresh tears, and told me I oould not have thu heart to leave her. I told her that I must, unless she left Malagrida. "Well, the next day it was all over. 1 saw Malagrida put on board the r^leainer, which was to go down tlie Uliin(>, and thun gave my wife a lust chance. I stood on tlie ipiay. I asked her if she would leave me for Malagrida. iShc said nothing, but wept. The bell sounded. Hlie gavii me a hui ricil liiss, and tied en board. The last I saw of licr, she was seated on Mal- agrida, her eyes streaming witli tears, waving a 8a seemed so fond of corpses, that I thought I'd indulge her faiu-y. I dare say she gave me a liandsoine burial. Or, peiiiaps, shu married a.i:ain, and went off on her iioiii-ymooD with both of her former spouses." niAPTRR VI. Lirrj^R KOSHTTE AMONG THK miLISTINES. Iliitlifr riMigli on RohIk Muh Ih; Oiiu sho live with su. Uiuler tlituidvieeof tlie ex|ierienced (^ary and tho sagiK'ious McGinly, sli<> arrayed herself for her new vocation; a short dress, an apron, a cap, under which her hair was done nj) very prettily, and a small bundle— simh were her pr<>paralions for tho re- sponsible post of lady's maid to 'Arrief. Me- (iiinty liad done his work, and no ililTleulties had been inel with. And thus it was that Me.- (linty's promise was fulfllled, and on the day rollowing lit tie Rosette found herself among th(! Pattersons, wailing in the ante-ohamlier of their loilgings. It was Mamma Patterson who first onme to see the new malil. Littli> Rosette stole one timid look at her, ami then lowered her eyes modestly to the floor. 26 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. Mamma Patterson seated herself in wlmt '"OS raeiint to 1)e a dignified attitude, niul tlien surveyed the little maid for somo time, very leisurely and in silence. "I've ben requested," said Mnmina Paltoi'- Bou, " to talfo you as maid to my diirti r, iin" I 'ope you'll try an' mind your missusses, re- member your plaee, an' try an' do your 'uni- ble dooty in tlie station of life in wliieli you ire sitooated." ■' Yes'm," said little Rosette, meekly. "No', , in the fust i)laee," eontinued the mamt la, "tlieru's somo things that mu«t lie understood, fust an' foremost ; an' I won't Stand any nonsense on tliis pint. Now I want to know one thing. 'Ave you got any follow- ers?" Little Rosette loolfed up with a qu(!stionin^ glanee, and repeated : "Followers?" "Yes; sparks, you know." "Sparks?" said litilo Rosette, witli a puzzled face. "Well, fellers, then— you know." "I'm sun-, I don't know what you mi^an," said little Rosette; " and I'm very sorry." Mamma Patterson's face UusIkm]. "Oh, yes, you do, you artful puss; I know it." "Slie's awfully rude," thoughtlittle Rosette; "but I must try to be very polite, indeed, and perhaps she mayn't be quite so cross." So with this tliought in her mind, little Rosette put her hands behind her, like a child saying a lesson, and then looked at Mamma Patterson, her great, dark, soft eyes resting dreamily upon her, with their long, dark eyelaalies sweeping her rounded cheeks. At which the old lady frowned, and lier expression grew more and more sour, as though she felt dissat- isfied with so sweet a faee; while she regarded her with a truculent glance— and little Rosette said, in a tone of courtesy that was really ex- quisite: "I must thank you very mucli, indeed, my dear Mrs. Patterson, for being so good natined as to allow me to come here. I do not really know much— that is not very much, you know, about— about things, you know— but I hope you will try to make every allow- ano&— and I'm sure I shall try very hard indeed— and one cannot say more than that, you know."' Little Rosette concluded her speech with a very pretty smile, that was meant to be con- <'iliatory, and tlien awaited an answer. But sometliing in that faee and voice seemed to have jurred very unpleacantly on Mrs. Patter- son, for she sat in silence, glaring at her with a glance that was more unpiopilious than ever. "Highty tightyl high and mighty!" ex- elaimed the old lady, at lengtli. "Here's a queer go, tool What may you 'appen to call yourself, pray ? Is this the fashion tliat you've larned of talkin' to your missuses and I)etter8 —like horned ladies, an' free an' ekal? Is this tlio fashion on tlieContinink? Why, youmigbt as well be one of tlie Red Republicans." Tliis allusion to the Red Republicans startled little Rosette, for slie knew that her present situation was in some way owing to them — and was af aid of discovering her secret. "Oil, if you please, don't," she said, with a gesture of alarm, and a hurried look around her. This, however, the old lady didn't notice, Idit went on witli lier own ide;i. " Now look liere, you Miss R()sett<', I want to tell you one tiling. I don't like your style— I don't like them fandangos an' (al-lals— I don't lik(; lady's ujaiils a-tiirkin' of theirselves up like coquettes. You're rigged up to the nines, an' you make too mucli play with them eyes o' yoiir'n." "Do I?" said Rosette. "I'm very sorry, I'm sure;" and she looked meekly at tlie floor, the long lashes fringing lier lids and giving her a new charm, which was still more offensive to Mrs. Patterson. " Fust, I .say," tlie mamma went on, " fust of all, you've got to change that nam(>. I don't want no Rosettes al)out this hou.se. You'll have to take a plain lionest name— SusaTi— or sech." " Susan t" said little Rosette. "Oli, if you please, I'd very much rather not. Susan is so very, very horrid." "Horrid, is it?" snarled the mamma. "Horrid —highty tlghty. Miss Flighty— not good enough for Your Royal 'Ighnessl Well, ail I can say is, beggars mustn't be choosers — an' there's better women named Susan than you'll ever be, beiu' as my own sainted mother, as is dead THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 27 ^ and soii(>, boro llmt niimo, luul was buried un- der it, wliicli it's tfii liiiica botti'i'u you de- serve to 'live, you iuipertiuent young liuzzy, you!" " How slioeUiniily inde slie is," tliouglit little Rosetle. 'Till afraid tliiit I sliiill Uiid it very liiird to ^row aeeustomtMl to lier — and one can't stand lieing scolded always; and she wu)i't lie pleased with anytliing." "Tlieu, agaiu," resumed the old lady, " thai 's another tiling— what d'yo eall that thing on your head? Take it off. I don't want it. I won't liave you a-trickin' up like u co- quette." " I'm sure I'm very sorry," said Rosette. "I thought you would prefer a cap, but one hardly knows how one ought to di'ess when one " She removed her eap without linisliing her seutenee, and tlien there was disclosed a rip- pling, crisp, curling mass of dark luxuriant liair, tliat made her quite enchanting; wiiile old Mis. P. sat staring at her in utter disgust. "Well, young woman, there's one thing you'll iiave lo do, I plainly see, if you stay here. You'll have to cut off them curls." " Cut off my hair!" said Rosette, aghast. "Yes— all of it— every mile; siiinglo your head close as a soger's— otlierwise you ain't goiu' to sliiy Willi inc. Mind that, miss." " But I'd very much rather not do tliat," said Rosette; "that is," slic added, in her usual polite way, "that Is, if you don't very muvli mind it, you know." "But I do mind it very mucli, indeed, and you know it." "I think," suggested Rosette, in a concilia- tory tone, " that if I wore a very large cap, indeed I might manage to hide it all." " A lai'ge cap— no you don't ! I twig! More fal lals! That's all you want. You don'tcome them games over me, young woman." " But I'd 80 very much rather not," objected Rosette. " Well, then, you shall, and you must. Who cares for you?" "But how can I, when poor papa is away; and might be very angry, Indeed, if he were to know about it, you know." At tills Mrs. Patterson threw up her eyes. "Hear her I Listen to her I Her papa! Her — jm-pa! And who is your papa?— and who do you suppose cares a pin for him?" "lie's a very nice man," said Rosette, "a very nice man, indeed. And he loves me very dearly." " Well, all I can say is, it's a pity he didn't have you lirought up in a way more sooled to your station in life an' footer iirospt'cts. Bet- tei- for you, miss, if he'd made you cut it all off long iigo." "I'm sure I'm veiy soiry," g..id Rosette; "but I can't help il." "You can help It." "I do wish she wouldn't contradict one SO rudely," tliought Rosette, and then she tried very hard to tliink of something ooneiliatory. The mamma returned to the charge. "Tlieu there's another pint. Them eyes o' yourn— I don't like 'em. You roll 'em about too much." " Oil, Well," said Rosette, with a smile of can- dor, "I can't do anything then, for one can't go and cut one's eyes out, yon know." At this the old lady grew more wnithful still. "See here, now. Miss Flighty," she said, sliari)ly. "You and me's got to understand one another. I'm a plain woman, I am; an' I alius speak plain. There's too many gentle- men a-comin' an' a-goin' in this 'ouse, an' you've been a triekin' of yourself out to at- traek their attention. You're a born coquette, tliat's wliat you air, and them I can't a-bear. Now, I give you warnin' — don't you be givin' of yourself airs. Don't let them gentlemen have too much to sny to you. Above all, there's my man, Billy— don't you go an' let him come foolin' around you. He's an old fool, an' I don't like to have the likes of you in the 'ouse when he's round." While Mrs. P. was thus expressing herself. Rosette was thinking that she was vet y par- ticularly unpleasant, as well as vulgar, and wondered what her papa would ever think il he only know what sort of a person this woman was. How excessively rude she Is to me— she thought— and I don't quite see howl can ever become accustomed to her, and I do wish she would not contradict one so. " Mrs. Patterson," said Rosette, with some dignity, yet witti that sweet air of courtesy 28 THE BABES IN TUE WOOD. wliich never failed ber, "lum sure you would Dot have said all tbat if you hud kuown liow Teiy particularly unpleasant it is to lue." " Yes, I would," said the old lady, rudely, '• and I dou*t believe it's unpleasant a bit." " It's very particularly unpleasant," said Rosette. "It iiin't," said Mrs. Patterson. "You like it— you know you do." '• I particularly dislike 11," said Rosette. " You don't," said Mrs. Patterson. "Besides, 1 don't eare whether you like it or not. Who lire you. Wlio cares for yon? You're only a servant, xeould l)uy up a thousand servants, all Ixitter'u you." What Is one to do? thought Rosette. She is certainly a very vulgai' per.son— I think quite tbevulgarest I ever saw. I really think sbe must be almost, if not quite, insane. I wonder if they're all like her, and if there may not be one who may be the least little bit like a lady. I never was so rudely treated in all my life " An' mark my words, miss," continued Mrs. Patterson, "no foolin'— no ecxiueltin' — no pbilanderiu' — no cuttiu' up Didos iu this house— no " But nt this point Mrs, P.'s tirade was cut short. The door opened. It was 'Arriet." The mamma retreated, and 'Arriet seated herself on the vacated throne, looking at Ro- sette with sometliingof the same sorutiny and a little of the same expression which the mam- ma had sliown. Rosette, on the other hand, remained standing iu her former meek and quiet attitude, wondering to herself whether this one would be as rude as tlie other. "What is your name?" asked 'Arriet, iu a cold, distant manne" " Rosette." "Rosette what?" "Rosette — Pinch," said the other, with an effort. It was hard to deny her own real name — and she thought to herself, also, that it was a sort of lie, which was wicked. "Very good," continued 'Arriet, in a busi- ness-like way. "You have been recommended by Mr. Sraithers. You are to be my maiil. Mr. Smithers said that you had not lived out." " Well, not very much." " Have you ever lived out at nil ?" "Well, n— no," stammered poor Rosette, fearing that this admission might damage ber; " but I'm sure I couldn't help it." " Xo matter. Mr. Smithers spoke very fa- vorably of you, and I hope you'll piove to bo all that be premised. 1 daresay you'll suit me very well. Be honest, be obedieut, be modest, he truthful— that's enough for me. Any littlo awkwardness I will overlook with pleasure. And now, what persuasion are you 7" " I beg your pardon," said Rosette. " What persuasion — religion, you know?" "Oh— why— tlie Christian,'* stammered Ro- sette. "Protestant, you know." "Oh, yes; but what denomination among the Protestants?" "Oh, well, I don't belong to any denouiino- lion, you know," said Rosette, briskly. "1 be- long to tlie Church, you know." " Ah— h— in— well— we don't. I merely wished to know. I'm glad you belong to even that — all— body, and hope you feel the great respon- sibility that attaches to yr>ii as a church mem- l)er." Iiistiucti vely Rosette's little hands sought one another behind lier back, and the old school- girl feeling came over her. She's catechizing me, thouglit Rosette; and. In a kind of panic, her mind reviewed all her old religious instruo- tions. " Oh, yes," she said, sweetly, "lean say it yet, pretty well— tliough not very— at least not so well as I might wish ;" and she stood as though expecting every moment to be asked, "What is your name?" "rehearse the articles of thy belief," or " whicli be they?" But no question came; and little Rosette felt, on the whole, de- cidedly relieved. 'Arriet sat looking at her cu- riously for some time, and at length said, with some abruptness: " You're too pretty." Oh, there it comes, thought poor Rosette. She's beginning, and what can one do? She did not know what to say, so she took refuge iu a glittering generality. " Yes, please." " I hope," continued 'Arriet, in a lofty tone, " that you'll try to be very quiet and modest; that you'll avoid every thing like airs, or im- pertinences, or impudence; and that you'll be respectful to your betters. It's my opinion that you are vain and light-headed. It's a k ty ! THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 29 1 Ri-eat snnre. Beware of thid. Figlit agiiiu^t it as a besetting sin. Don't dress so smartly. That's another snare. And above all, ue on your guard always against the gentlemen that may l)e coming and going. Don't let any one of them say one single word to you; and if they do, be sure not to answer them at all.'' This last seemed to Rosette to be quite absurd, and Inrolviiig incivility, discourtesy, and even rudeness. To be silent when spoken to was out of the question. Common politeness would make one rei)Iy to a remark. This seemed self evident. "Oh. well, you know," said Rosette, "I sup- pose if any of them ask after you, for instance, I may answer them, you know." " Oh, you know perfectly well what I mean," said 'Arriet, sharply. "I mean that you must not allow yourself to indulge In any of those small coq\ietrle3 to which I fear you are altogether too much inclined. Remember, that I shall be watching you, and that I have sharp eyes. You'll not be able to deceive me." "Yes, please," said Rosette, "I yhall remem- ber, I'm sure j" and I really do believe— she thought to herself— I really do think that she Is almost, if not quite, as disagreeable as her mamma. And if she is how dreadful it will be. But, perhaps— she reflected, rising into a more sanguine mood— they may all turn out to l)t^ nicer when we all get better acquainted with one another. As for 'Arriet, she felt decidedly puzzled. She had noted at once in Rosette a certain grace of bearing, and refinement of accent which she had never before seen in any lady's maid. She saw in her a certain nameless some- thing which may be called "style " in default of abetter name — a high-bred air about her face, about the poise of her head, her attitude. In short, everything; and how to account for this she did not know. She concluded, how- ever, that Rosette may have lived a good deal among ladies, and caught their ways. Besides, she remembered having heard that on the Continent, servants and mistresses associate on more equal terms than in England, and sup- posed that this might In part account for the puzzle. After some further remarks she took Rosette off to explain her duties, during whloh expla- nation Rosette felt like the little maid In the story of the Three Spinners, when the Queen takes her to the room full of flax; but, alas! here there were no friendly fairies to inter- pose. For the perilous nature of Rosette's under- taking will be fully appreciated, when it Is ex- plained that the only ])reparatlon which she had ever had for these complicated duties, and the on^y experience in them which slie bad ever known, consisted solely in the services which, in former years, she had rendered to certain dolls of various names and sizes, which, from time to time, she liad adopted as liercom- I)anions, These she had served very faithfully. She had done up their hair; dressed and un- dressed them; made their beds; washed their iloll-clothes, ill doli wash-lubs, with doll soap; ironed them with doll irons; read to them in doll books; nursed them when ill, and doctor^ ed them with doll medicine; put them in doll baths, and accompanied them on their travels in doll carriages. But varied and Important as this training may have been, it was hardly adequate to prepare her for her present posi- tion, and its multifarious duties; Mamma Pat- terson and 'Arriet were by no means so ami- able as those old companions, and before one day had passed poor little Rosette found her- self comparing ber present with her former duties, to the great disadvantage of the present. CHAPTER VII. OLD FRIENDS— A RAPTCROtTS MEETIXO— ASSOCIA- TIONS AND REMINISCENCES OP THE PAST. Mercy on us ! here's Rosette. How you've grown since last we met I On the afternoon of the fvlouingday every one was out, and Rosette, in pensive mood, was in the ante-chamber, at her wit's end about some household duty enjoined upon her by 'Arriet. Of this household duty she simply knew nothing whatever, and felt more than ever like the little maid already mentioned In the room full of flax. At this juncture there came a knock at the door, and Rosette went to open It. It was Mr. Fred Fotherby, who had oome to oall upon the ladies. He had just opened bis J 30 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. mouth to ask the words, "Are any of the la- dies nt home?" when the words were suddenly arrested by sonietbiug in the appearance of the lit tie maid before him. She also had taken a hurried glance at the new comer, when something in lilm made her take a second. At that second their eyes met; there was an in- stant of mutual inquiry; then bewilderment; then amazed and astonished recognition. "By Jove!" cried Fred. " Why, Freddie!" exclaimed Rosette. "Rosie!" cried Fred. "It can't be. You, Itosie! Why, what in Heaven's name!— why, you darling little pet ! I'm awfully }j;lad to Me you, Rosie," and with these words Fred caught Rosette in his arms and kissed her. " I'm awfully glad to see you, Rosie," said he onoe more. " And I'm sure I'm awfullier glad to see you, Freddie, you dear, darling old boy," said little Rosette, wliose eyes were swimniiug witli tears, but wliose face was glowing with joy. Fred stood off, holding her witli one hand on her shoulder, and sui-veyed lier from head to foot in fresh amazement. "Why, what in the world's the matter?" he asked. "What have you been doing with yourself? Wliat's all this rig— this cap and apron? It can't be a joke or a masquerade?" " Indeed, I only wish it was," said Rosette. "But what are you doing liere?'' " Oh, why, you know, I'm lady's maid." "Lady's maid!" gasped Fred. "Yes — to Miss Patterson." " Lady's maid to Miss Patterson ! The devil ! Why, what do you mean ? But I'll be hanged if you don't look prettier tlian ever. Why, Rosie, do you know thai cap is awfully becom- ing to you?" And at this Fred made a movement to kiss her again, but little Rosette retreated, holding up her band. '• Iiusli-8-hI Oil, please don't, Freddie." "Well, but how did you get here?" asked Fred, full of curiosity. "Oh, why, you know, it's all some business of poor i)apa. It's somedifQculty." "What? not money?" "Oh, no, not money, but with the police — politics, you know ; buts-s-s-s-b I for it's a great secret," aud Rosette put her hand over her ruby lips, aud looked with solemn, mysterious warning out of her great darlc eyes. " But tell me," said Fred, (.'oaxingly. " Oh! no, no,— I mustn't," said Rosette, sbak- ing her head. " But me." "Oh I no, no, Freddie, dear, not even you— not a single soul. Its dangerous." "Nonsense." " Oh! but it is. Papa had to run away. So had I. I'm hiding." At this Rolette gave a look of awful mys- tery. " Hiding!" exclaimed Fred. "Yes, that's the leason why I'm lady's maid. And I've had to clianse my name. My name now is Rosette Fincii." "Finch! Ye gods and little fishes," cried Fred. " And so don't you go and let anybody ever know that you know me, you know, or else the police miglit hear, and if they did they'd ar- rest me at once." Fred stood looking at her, full of surprise, sympathy, and admiration. " Well, I'll be hanged!" he exclaimed. " I'm sure there's ten times more danger of my beitig hanged," said Rosette, "if you don't promise never to speak to mo again, md not let any body know about me." " I swear, Rosie, I really do think that you aio the prettiest, the very loveliest little thing that I ever saw," cried Freutting forth a modest disclaimer of little Rosette's lavish praise; "hut it'll come, no doubt. I daresay she doesn't like to sliow it too soon, you know." "Of course not," chimed in Rosette; "she wouldn't till you tell her, you know. That's always the way, of course." " Of course," assented Fred ; " and then, you know, I owe most of my debts to her father." "Owe your debts to her fat her?'' said Rosette, in astonishment ; " but what has that got to do with her loving you ?' "Oh, nottilng with lier loving me, little goosie; but it has a great deal to do with my getting her for my wife." " I'm sure t don't see how." "Oh, you know her fatlier is enormously I'ich— a great money-lender, you know ; and I owe him no end; and if I marry Harriet, I'll be his son-in-law, and, of course, that'll Ijc the easiest way to pay off my debts, won't it?" " Oil, yes, of course ; but does lie know ?" " Know ? Oil, yes— I dare say— yes, of course he does." " And, of course, ho admires you— oh, ever so much!" said little Roselte, looking with all licr own honest admiration at tlie liandsome young fellow— an admiration whicli Fred, the conceited young dog, accepted as quite his due; "but I say, Freddie, it seems to me that it will lie oh, so queer, and he will booh,8ttc/i a funny papa for you to liave, you know. Why, it win be worse tlian my tieing lady's maid ; for, after all, this Isn't for life; but, if you become his son-in-law, you'll have to love, honor, and 32 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. ob«'y liiin, ii:) long as you live, you know. Au(] 8o I 9bouldii't llUe to be you." " Pooh, nonst'iist', gooslf," anid Fred. " I dou'l niurry thepnpa. He's only nn old pig. I luairy the dauglitiT. And that's differi'Ut." "Yes; how nice it will be," said Rosette, in an nbstmcted tone; "and you'll have lots of money?" " Yes — and such a great, noble creature for my wife," snid Fied, eiithusiastieally. "Yes, she's au'fully big," said little Rosette. " I'm afraid of lur, Freddie." "Big? Nonsense. Site's majestic— a grand creature — a gorgeous being— a— But see liere, Rosle," said Fred, al)ruptly changing the con- versation, "I don't liite tills sort of thing at all, you know ; bad enough for yuu to I e in a scrape, and have to be lady's maid— buf bang it, these people, you know, tliey're not the right sort of thing at all for one like you— the two old ones awful horea, no end ; and tliat old woman can be brutally rude without knowing it. So loolc here, you know, you must come out of tills." "Oh, but I can't. I'm hiding, you know." "Nousensel you can." " Oh, but I jan't— and I've no other place to go to." "Place? Oh, I'll find places," said Fred, grandly. "Oh, no; I couldn't think of it, Freddie. There's danger of the police finding nie out. I must keep hid away." "Hid? nousensel Wlio's been stufilng j-ou with all that? Come with me to the British Ambassador." "Oh, no, I mustn't." "But I can't stand it— and I won't." "Oh, I hope It'll only be for a little time; and papa will ouiue for me, you know, and take me away. I shall be able to keep quiet till I hear from him, only ttie worst of it, they will scold me so." " Scold ?" cried Fred, with a frown. " Soold ? Who?" " Why, all of them." "All?" cried Fred, looking black. "All? Wbat, the old woman? She wouldn't dare." "Yes; and I think Miss Patterson Is, if pos- sible, worse." " What, Harriet? Confound her impudence f She scold you? Let me tell you, Bosie, 1 won't stand it. That girl I Why, she isn't fit to blnek your boots— a miserable, low-lived pill maker's daugliter! a narrow-minded, vulgar, stuek-np, purse-proud— I'd wring her neck for sixpeiK.'e!" "No, no, that's against the laws; you must wait till you're married, Freddie." "I'll " "You'd better be careful how you give way to your naughty temper, Freddie," said Ro- sette, wiio listened to this tirade with an air of intense enjoyment. "She might lienr of it, and you might lose her." "Lose her? Ob, no. Besides, I don't care. I've got two strings to my bow.". "Two strings?" " Yes." " What do you mean ?" " Why, another lady." "Another lady!" exclaimed Rosette, in un- feigned surprise. "You awful boy! But who is she? What is she, and where did you find her? Tell me all al)Out it." " Well," said Fref" " she's an Italian Count- ess." "An Italian Countess!" " Yes, and a widow." " A widow — oh!" " And she's as beautiful as— as — well, as an angel— in fact, more so, much more," said Fred, enthusiastically. "A beautiful Italian Countess! why, where did you meet with her, Freddie?' " I'll tell you. It was on the road," and Fred proceeded to tell the whole story. "How nice!" exclaimed Rosette; "wliy she must be utterly enchanting." " I should rather think she was," said Fred. "And is she really owfully fond of you, Freddie?" asked little Rosette, looking at Fred ui her usual admiring way. " Oh, well, you know, Bosie, it isn't so easy to tell with widows, you know. But she makes no end of a fuss about me— and between you and me, Rosie, I don't mind saying that I do l)eUeve that she really is awfully fund of me; though she doesn't like to show it, of course — that is, not too much," and the young puppy went on to tell about a good many things on the part 'i » of Hi - \ I THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 33 of tilt) Countess whlcli showed a tender Inter- fst. "And, I leuUy llilnk, Rosie, she's the most fttscluntingcreuturel oversaw — why, her eyes— they fairly thrill through me; and she's BoeieKiint! She's a widow— but she must be very young." "And Is she rich?" "Tremendous." "Low do you know?" "Oh, well, by evfry tiling. Her way of speaking, for iiistanco. She owns u villa In Tuscany, a house in Naples, an estate near Vi- terbo, another somewhere else; why, she tnnst be a regular female Rothacbildl She scatters money like mad— and then, she's the most per- fect lady— and the most good-natured, ami- able, warm-bear ted, lively person I ever saw. I toll you what, Rosle, I'd ten times rather see you with her. than here; you'd be ten times happier." " Oh, but I don't speak Italian." " Oh, that's nothing. She speaks enough English to get along with. Suppose I tell her about you. I'm going to call there soon— to- day." "Now!" said Rosie, in a forlorn voice. "Now! — what, and leave you?" cried Fred, "and before I've even began to talk of a thousand things that I want to ask you about. Why, I haven't seen you for two years— and don't you remember that the very last time 1 eawyou was when we were out in the boat, and you Insisted on learning to row?" "Yes," cried Rosette, eagerly, " and I caught a crab, and 1 lost my oar." "Yes, and reached out to try and get it again " cried Fred, as an eager, vivid re- membrance came over him. "Yes," interrupted little Rosette, in the same eager voice, " and I reached too far, and I fell overboard— and sank like a stone." "And made me mad with terror, you lit lie reprobate, after I consented to let you have the oars." "But, oh, Freddie! you saved my life!" said Rosette, in a tremulous voice. " Oh, yes— course — I had to Qsh you out, and got the greatest ducking I ever got in all my life." " Yes, you jumped overboard, you poor old Freddie, and went down to the bottom after me. And I remember how I opened my eyesnt the bottom of the boat, and saw you crying like a baby over me, you silly old cowardly boy, you." " Well, goosie, and didn't you cry, too, for a half an hour afterwards?" "No, I didn't. It was the r.*ater in my eyes and hair. Besides, you made me cry, because you were crying ho yonrself." "Well, but you always hiive been my own little pet, haven't yon, Rosie?" said Fred, with tender frankness. "Certainly, Freddie," said Rosette, with the same frank and open tenderness; "and I'venl- ways stood up for you, and been your friend."' "But, oh! what dear, delightful old days; those were at Cheltenham!" said Fred, "nt your uncle's, when I was a happy boy for years, and you keeping me from my studiev with your teasing." "You! Oh! oh! As If you would ewer study.*" At this, they plunged together back into that bright past at Cheitenhar*- at the old parson*- age — when Fred L 'd been a pupil, living wlthi Rosette's uncle, with whom she also was living. A thousand bright memories were held by both In common— memories all golden as they arose illuminated by the sunlight of a happy pasf.. They had been together for years in that past, and now met onoe more. At length their conversation was interrupted by the return of the family, and Rosette had only time to say : "Now, Freddie, yon mustn't let them know that you know me, because it's awfully im- portant for mo not to be discovered, I'm incog." CHAPTER VIII. THREE STRINGS TO ONE BOW— A TOO IMPRE:!iSIBT.X YOUTH. Ficklfl Freddie, how can you To so many lores be true? Thk beautiful Countess had continued her association with the Pattersons. Her affabil- ity filled the papa and mamma with delight, but inspired 'Arriet with varied feelings. For 'Arrlet had noticed a visible change in the at- titude of Fred toward herself ever since the appearance of the Countess, and oonoluded ( If :t 4 t5 84 TUB BABES IN THE WOOD. that the lovely stranger had a motive for her condeMoension, that motive beinf; no other than the capture uf Frud. Dulij^lited, there- fore, and proud though 'Arriet might under other clieiimstanees liave been ot the friendly advances of u titlid lady, it was not in human nature that ahe should be pat lent at the sight of a-oui'u devoted lover being eulioed away by a perfect stranger, and that too at the very time wlien he liad virtually declared himself. For though tlie formal words liud not passed between tlicni, still Fred liad given her to un- derstand pretty plainly, by niontiis of assidu- ous attention, wliat liis purposes were; anil it was certainly rather liard for 'Arriet to see the volatile young man transferring much of his allegiance to the Italian llag. The Countess, for the present, however, had the advantage, and seemed determined to keep it. It wri evidently tiie plan of this lady to win FreU for herself. Her motive was not at all a complex one. It was simply l)ecause her fancy prompted her. The lomantii; meeting, on tlie mountain seemed to have impressed her greatly. Fied also was a young fellow who, in spite of his evident self-conceit, was very well adapted to win the regards of that sort of woman. And so the Countess set her- self to the task of winning liim. From the first, Fred's too susceptible heart had felt the effect of her em.-hantmeuts. Her dark eyes bad sent electric flashes throngli him. Nor were little hints wanting, or words to give him encouragement; and therefore Fred's boast to little Rosette, though an un- warrantable violation of a tender seciet, was after all founded on an actual fact. The Countess, however, was by no means In- clined to push her own purposes in defiance of everybody else. "Many things are wily," Bays the Greek dramatist, who goes on to say that mat! is the wiliest. To which may be add- ed, '* except woman." Woman's wiles were possessed to the fullest degree by the Count- ess, and these she brought to bear on all her friends. She saw, first of all, that it would be better for her to have 'Arriet for her friend than her enemy; and so long as she could re- tain her on a friendly footiug, she would have a much better chance of acting over tlie whole field. In order, however, to disarm 'Arriet's Jealous suspicions, it would be uecessaiy fur her to furnish that injured young hidy with some other ooeupation for her thougtits. The best occupation seemed to her to be a nt!W cav- alier. For such she did not have long to wait. And this is the reason why the Countess intro- duced to the select circle of tlie Pattersons her brilliant, chivalrous and gallant friend uud relative, the Count Filippo de Grassato. This was a master stroke on the part of the Countess. All tiie English snob was roused within 4lie soul of 'Arriet at the approach of a live Count. This was a very different thing from nssoeiatiug with a Countess, though that had, indeed, been a dazzling honor. But, in tluit case, the Countess bad been, at tlie best, simply an acquaintance— one, too, who as- sumed asui>eiiority wliioh made her often feel ill at ease. In tliis other case, however, it was differeut. It was a Count, not a Countess; a gallant, not an aequulutanee; a lover, not a friend. The Count ploced himself altogether at lier service. Instead of assuming any tacit superiorily, liis assumption was nil the other way. He was not 'Arriet's superior. He was her very humble servant. To 'Arriet, those were delicious momeiifs when the Count picked up her fan, or her kerchief; spranc to open the door for her; flew to hand her acliair-- those moments when she had a born nobleman waiting upon iier with the utmost deference. Moreover, Grassato presented a marked con- trast to Fred, apart from his title. Fred had never put himself out particularly. Fred thought that an infinity of small attentions was a bore, and also a silly affectation. He looked with infinitecontemptuponaman who devoted himself in that small way to any wo- man whatever. The bows, scrapes, smiles, apol- ogies, compliments, ond multifarious atten- tions shown by Grassato seemed to him un- worthy of a man, and characteristic of a " beg- garly Italian." If 'Arriet liad thought of using Gra:>sato as a means of bringing back Fred to his duty, she made a failure of it, for Fred seemed to regard the Italian with magnificent indifference. But 'Arriet found in the Count himself a source of joy altogether apart from the fact that he might be used against Fred ; and her bereaved heart began to be Miot^ed by a feeling of sweet :t THE BABE8 IN THE WOOD. 95 (tuiiipliioeiioy, ud alie regarded Uer future Dulf ill the light of u poMlble Couutesa. Tills little Blroke of the Couutes* dl Ciirnvro hud thus been quite sucoesiiful. Shu hud dis- armed the jealousy of a rival, and rotaiiii'd £ that rival as a frleud. The whole Uuld thus lay W open bufore her, and everything seemed to , favor her purposes. Fri'd himself seemed to feel happy In llndlng himself her favored at- tendant ; nor had lie, as yet, r.ltogether over- come that Urst enthrallment and enchantment wliioh site had flung over him. Accordingly, not a day passed on which Fred was not danc- ing attendance upon this beautiful siren; wait- ing upou her; walking with her; lidlng or driving with her. • " Ow you lika Roma?" asked the Countess of iiiiii one day, as they walked through tht' ygidunds of the Villa norghese. J "Oh, first rate," said Fred, "tip-top! It's 'the jolliest place I ever saw." ;•■ "Joli? oh, si, yes — beaiifid, splendida. You Joy you saffa in dees villa?" ' " Awfully," said Fred, " never enjoyed inyself so much in all my life that I re- nH!mbvuru Kurcrul ruaaotiH why Frui) did not. Tliu first renHoii wan that thi'y wei'H In ii jtiilt- llc pliU!H, with lotA of pcopit* wiilkiUK itliout ill thu Knrdcii patlm. Tlu) 8tt«!ond rt'iiiion wiia thiit lit n oriticnl mo- ment thi'y uutt Ui'iiMiitu and 'Arrlt't, and the latter Kiive him 8ueh a loolc that It nrrextei] the flight of IiIh feeliiiKaiid fancy. And thu third and, purhnp!*, ti'iient rencon Trns that Fred, In npltu of all his xelf-conceit, and other (|ualitle8 was actually excessively liashfiil. This qiaillty, like the liuhit of hlnsh- ing, was onu which he had Inherited from a boyhood which was not very remote. Out of a sort of honest fcelhiR he poured forth tor- rents of admiration and praise; but when It oume to the nctuni point, he shrank Imok In bashful fright, lie felt hlniHcIf sufflc^iently In love with the beautiful Countess to commit any act of folly or absurdity, but could nut bring himself to say to her that he loved her. Now the Countess was Teinarkably acute, and had a singular gift of rending character. She understood this pecnli:.. .ty of Fred, aniiutl[iil, l>ut fllppimt and worthk'Hs. liiitniatk wliut a coniraul thcro is in tht' Kt'ntU'Uiai. wlioni nh«) inlnxliutd liern— 11 siiiKiilai ly liandKonif man— with all iliiiKiaocH of a tlnishcd Kcnilcinun, iind yet a frank, loyal, manly, honest nalun-." "What!" cried Fred, tliundtTslrmU. "You tlon't mean UrasMito." "I refer to tho Count diOnWBiito," said 'Ar- Ti^l, plaeidly. " What! lliat monkey— tliat grinidng bab- oon— that iiiiol, with his l>ows and " " Mr. Fotherby," naid 'Arriet, aeverely, "I ttonld thank you to remember (hat tho Count Giassato is my friend, and liiati will not al- low him to bti vilified by onu whom 1 think bis inferior in every respect." "Ills inferior!" nioniwa Fred. "Oh! ye j;ods and little fishes! 11(8 inferior — why, in tlie flrat phieo, I don't consider tiim a man at all. He looks like a woman dressed up in man's clothes." " It is always tlie way witli lower natures and vulgar souls," said 'Arriet, loftily. "They respect only bodily size and strength; wliereu« ,tho greatest heroes have always been small liien. Napoleon and Nelson were little men. -iBo were Alexander the Great and Ju- lus Ctesar. Among poets and i>hilo8ophers, llgain " " Oh, Lord ! Only listen to this," groaned Tred. " Why, do you mean to say that this Infernal Grassato is to be named on the same 'jBay with Napoleon and Nelson — well, I like •^hat. Come, perliaps he's the Archangel Ga- J)riel, too. Go it, I say. Pile it on. Grnssato! '#Why, I'd flght half a dozen such fellows as that ; I % miserable, common Italian, with a pasty face, and the manners of a dancing-master. Why, that fellow isn't fit to be in the same room witli an English gentleman." ' ' That is your envy. He is more refined than you, and that is the chief point of differ- ence." Fred stood glaring indignantly at lier. " So this is your style of thing, is it?" said he; I" and this is what you call fidelity, and all that Isortof thing?" " I do. I'l see what (his has to do with fidel- ity." "Ch, yes, you do, mlcs. You know very well A'hat 1 mean. Vou remember. And af- ter wluit passed between us. And now, ttie til St thing I know, 1 find you mad after a fel- low like this." " I am not mad about any one," said 'Arriet, who felt immen^»ely gralilled at Fred's vio- lence. It looked like jealousy. "And if you think I'm going lo let that fel- low (luletly step hi and do wliat litj likes, you're mistaken. I'll punch ids head." " Mr. Fothorby, I must once more request you not to abuse my fi lend— an Itaiiau nol>le." "Italian tiddhstick," said Fred, angrily. "What's a Count? Everylmdy's a Count in Italy. An Engllsli gentleman of good family is l)etter every way. It's only tlie lower orders in England who admire Italian Counts. The Italian nobility is not the real thing. It's jiinchbeck. I wouldn't change the name of Fotherby for any title In all Italy." " Well— well— wlint made you so attentive tO the Countess? ' said 'Arriet. "The Countess!" said Fred. "Oh, a fellow must be civil to tlie ladles." "You never speak to me now," said 'Arriet, who was rapidly relenting, i)artly from re- awakened tenderness, and partly because she was profoundly affected by Fred's scorn of the Italian nobility. What if Grasscto were, as he said, only pinchbeck? "Speaic to you?" said Fred, "Why, how c.in I, wlien I never get a chnnc e, with that fel- low forever in this house, and trotting around with you all day long? Fact is, I thought your ta.ste was queer, but thought you were enjoy- ing yourself; and so I went about in the free and easy Continental fashion, doing the agree- able to the only other lady of my acquaint- ance— a lady, too, who had the good taste to prefer an English gentleman to her Italian friend." This was the last blow to 'Arriet's obduracy. She softened utterly. There was a grand re- conciliation, in the midst of which the writer of this came away. Came away, puzzled and mystified, and mus- ing on the fickleness of Fred Fotherby's too \2 38 TEE BABES IN THE WOOD. susceptible heart. Where would it till end? Or how loug might Fred hope to keep this up? CHAPTKR IX. JEAIiOirS OF HIMSELF. Hero's McOinty in a fix— Pitting end to artful tricks. Meanwhile, the love-lorn McGinty still felt himaelf unable to come to nny tleoisiou, and while devoting hiniself to Kitty under the name of Smithers, was iinuljle to devise any means by which he could extricate himself from a false position. Kitty was always bright, always amiable, aud, it may be added, always very cordial, and even affectionate. A rare and radiant spirit, tills Kitty— never cast down, always buoyant, gentle, and universiilly populiir; n slender, trim figure, b\ue eyes, hair of golden hue and silken texture, wliich was never ar- ranged the same M-ay on two successive days, and a nobility of expression which made her face a perpetual studj*. "Well, Mr. Smilhei's," said she, on this occa- sion, "how awfully late you are. I hope you're notgrowing faithless. I'm afraid about tills Miss Rosette " "Oh, Miss Kinnearl" said McQinly, re- proachfully. "Well, but how do I look this morning?' said Kitty. " You look perfectly lovely,'' said McGinty, in a voice that was tremulous with emotion. "I don't believe you mean what you say," said Kitty, " but I like to hear you say it just the same. There's something so sweet and 8«i- gary about praise. And I ])erfectlj' lovo being praised. I think that it's the loveliest tiling in all the world."' "That's what I think of you," said Smithers, bluntly but honestly. At tills Kitty fastened her eyes on him with a strange look. "Now there," said siie, " that's just what I've always said. That's the right way to talk to me. I've alwnya said that you ought to be more gallant, ami pay more compllmenfs, and all that sort of thing. And now, Mr. Smithers, of course you have brought me a letter?" McGinty sighed and shook his head. "Do you really mean to sit there. Mi-. Smith- ers, and look me in the face, and say that you have no letter at all?" asked Kitty, ;:; a low voice. McGinty shook his head more dismally than ever. "Well," said Kitty, "if ever there was a modern Ariadne, you now behola that unhap- py being. Tliere is beginning to be a cool heartlessiiess about Mr. McGinty's treatment of me that isabsolutely unparalleled. So long as he wrote, I could be content; and what malces it worse, I see plainly, Mr. Smithers, that you no lojiger sympnthize with me." At this, Kitty heaved a heavy sigh, and put her handkerchief to her eyes. " I— I—" cried McGinty, " I not sympathize! Good Lord, Miss Kinnear! I— I'd— I'd lay down my — my life!" "Well, then, why— don't you gig— gig— gig- get me a lit— letter?" soblied Kitty. McGinty looked all around with a wild eye. What should he do? Kitty's distress was too much. Should he tell all? He looked toward lier. All his being went out in unutterable' yearning. The yearn grew stronger. Stronger! He couldn't stand it any longer. "Oh!" ho began. Kitty sobbed. "Oli.Kik !•' Ho stopped. Ought he to call her by her Christian name. After all— dared he reveal the truth? No, no. Better wait. He could not yet risk all. Better write another letter. "He might know," said Kitty, "howowfully lonely it is liere, where everybody is so taken up with everybody else, and there's not one single soul In all the world that I can ever see for even five minutes!" "Oh, Miss Kinnear!" said McGinty, deeply wounded; "you don't mean that— you forget me." "I do mean it," said Kitty, sadly; "and I don't forget you. It's you that forget me." "Forget you! never— no, no!" said McGinty, vehemently. "You've got your own friends," said Kitty. THE BABES IN THE WOOD. •'Yoii Imvo this little lady tliat you have brought hero as maid, and you won't tell me :^one word about her." " It's a friend's secret," said MuGinty, in dis- tress. "But you have no right at all to keep any- thing a .«eeret from me at all, when I ask you about it," said Kitty; "and especially a thing iiof tliis kind." ■t MeGinty was deliglited at this. II<' eould ftiiily murmur something about the seeret not ibeing long to keep. M "Now, Mr. Sniithers, you mist bring me a >fietter to-morrow," said Kilty. "Youjimst. I i'lnean it." And Kitty looked so serious, that MeGinty s', ■ , nt onec deeided to furnish the letter. :> "I'll do what I can," said he; "but I don't '?liko tills." ' " Wliat don't yon like?" " I don't like MiGinty's behavior." " Sueh as what ?" I "Well, going off to Naples, and remaining '"' there at such a time." :, "I should think it ought to seem strange— : and imagine how it must bo to me— but tlien he'll write soon." \-:i MeGinty shook his head and sighed : ■■■i,' " I'm nfiaid that he Is not much to \w relied (.5 •gnpon— I slionldn't like to trust him." j| At this Kitty started up witli a warning ges- Iture. •f "Oh, you naughty man! You wicked man ! You treacherous, false, faithless friend! rYou're trying to undermine my coufldencu In |tny poor, dear, old McQint}'- you're trying to oison my mind against the man that I've n so faithful to. Oli, Mr. Smithers, how could you be so awfully base!" At this McGlnty felt depri.-saed. " You seem to have no end of confidence in MeGinty," said he. " Of course, I have," said Kitty. " My con- fidence In liim is slaiply boundless. V/liatcvcr ho does, whatever, I don't care what, I will trust in litm all the same. 1 know him too well to doubt him ; no matter how strange his conduct may seem, he shall find that theio is one who knows him to liis heart's core— ai;d trusts him implicitly." There was a little thrill iu Kitty's voice as she said this, and she spoke It in a way which was different from her usual bantering tone. MeGinty looked more distressed than ever. " Couldn't j'ou lose faitlj iu him under any clrcutnstauees?" " No." " Under no jyossllUc circumstances?" " No." " Couldn't you ever love another man?" " Never— never. Not if I were to live a tliousand years," " But other women do," said poor MeGinty; " widows love and muiTy second, and even third liusbands." " Well, I'm 110^ a widow," said Kitty, with a laugh ; " and I'm sure I don't want to be one — and If 3'ou ask nu! wluit I should do if I were to bo one, wliy I won't answer." Had MeGinty not been in his present false position, all this would have been delightful beyond measure, but as it was, it. only in- creased his gloom. For his position was now so peculiar, that the very fidelity which ho ouglit to liave loved he was compelled to fear; yet, iit the same time, he could not help loving it. He was trying to shake her faith in MeGinty, so as to win it for Smithers; was iu despair when lio found the faith unmov- alile; and yet out of Iiis d<'spair ho regarded Kitty with greater lov ation, in the expression of which she was most enthusiastic. " Dio mio," said she, " de Rosettina haf allo- way ben a gran admirazione to me, but 1 44 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. liefare dream dat (lis could liuppt-ii. Shu luiike efery tin one perturbnziont\ Sbe liaf diit ei^prit —dat fasfiiiuzloue — she make dem all her uap- tivi. I oharui about her inyser." "She u ojus, artful minx!" said Mnmma Patterson. "She'saeuquutte, and thcuileuu't abear. We can't have her here. She must go." "Ob, den, I hope you weel let nie know, an' den I gall gat her. I sail tink luysef fortunala eef I sail get de Reset tina to niysef. Ilaf you tole Signer Suieedair?" "No," said 'Arriet, gloomily; "not yet. I don't know what to say to him. I have only suspicious. I can't find out anything against ber, except that she doesn't know anything about the duties of a lady's maid— and the worst of it is, Mr. Smithers told us that before we took her. I'm afraid he will laugh at us and think we are jealous of ber, unless we find some real objection." At this the Countess laughed long and mer- rily. •^" O, Dio raio," she said. " Eet is de Signori. Dey all tly to her— stHpiaf de incantaments for dem. She one siren, an' sing to dem. Dey all captivi. De Signer Pattasina lofe her like apadre— deConte Grassato lofe her like one amato— de Smeedair, e lofe her like one broder —an' Signor Fodairby, he lofe her wid de gus- to of de artist. All de same— dey all lofe de Rosettiua— I tell you now. You say notin. You let her come to me. She be my lady maid. I charm wit ber. In Italy we make great friend wit de cameriere, de domesticki, and de | aervante." CHAPTER XI. VERY UNIiADYLIKE— NO ONE TREATS HEH WITH COMMON POLITENESS. Poor, afflicted little maid, Don't you hope for Smitliers' aid? It was all true— too true. The gentlemen adored ber; the ladies bated ber; and between the two the poor little thing had no peace. The mamma could not possibly be more rude than she bad been, but became more disagree- able by pestering ber more frequently; 'Ar- riet grew more exacting, and Kitty seemed to •have her mind poisoned. The vulgarity of tbe former wiw bad, but ber daughter's harsh- ness seemed worste, and little Rosette found it hard to bear, so she grew very sad, veiy me- lancholy, and very miserable. And the more mournful she grew in mind, the more did she show upon her face a pathetic beauty which made her more enchanting tlioD ever. No one that pretended to iiave the heart of a man could look at ber wiihout feeling stirred by sympathy to the profoundest depths of his na- ture. But this veiy thing made it ail the worse for lltllo Rosette, and tbe tender grace of her pathetic face, which so charmed the gentlemen, awakened fresh indignation in the ladies. This was tlie state of things, wiien one day McGinty bore down upon her to answer what he considered a sigiuil of distress. " You look lather blue, little one," said be. "Cheer up; you ought to hear from your father soon.". Rosette sighed. " I'm sure you're very kind, indeed," said she, "and I'm sure I'm very grateful ; but I wish you -jould do something to make these people stop scolding me so. If I don't hear from papa soon, I shall bare to quit this bouse —that is, if they don't drive me away them- selves." " Why, what's the matter?" asked Mc Ginty, who had not known anything hitherto of Ro- sette's troubles. "They're all very cross and very unkind to me." " WhatI all?" asked McGinty, in surprise. "No; not all— Miss Kinnear did not use to be, but she don't take any notice of me at all, now; and I call that unkind, I'm sure. And, at flrnt, she was so very good that I felt content." " Oh, she will always be good," said McGinty " But what about the others?" "The others," said Rosette, are very, very rude, indeed ; and they scold one so, nod con- tradict one so, and order one about so, that I scarcely dare to open my mouth. I don't be- lieve that the police would ever treat me so rudely as Mrs. Patterson. I don't believe a dungeon would be lialf so gloomy as this house. And so, if you please, Mr. Smithers, I thmk I shall go and give myself up." Rosette spoke these words with a gentle mel- ancholy, and a tender resignation, wbioh made I THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 45 Smitliera feel cut to the heart. It was like a reproaeli to himsBlt. It was his doing. How ooiiltl he help her? He ooulcl think of nothiug except an appeal to Kitty. " Oh, well," said he, " I'll apeak to them, and see if tliey ean't make it pleasanter for you. And now you try and cheer up. Don't tliink of IcavinK here. If the police were to get you, your fatiier would die of despair. Tiiink of your fatlier." "But if papa behaves in this way, and runs away and leaves me, how can he expect me to live? I don't understand being ordered abou( [BO. And tliey always will order me about. 1 ; was never so ordered about in all my life." McGinty felt much troubled, and resolved to [talk it all over with Kitty. C'llAPTRR XII. ▲ VICE LOVER— kitty's PECITLIAR POSITION. What a lover fato has sent her— Nothing but a self-tormentor. " Good morning, Mr. Smithers," said Kitty, Ithe next time McGinty came. " I hope you [have brought me a letter to-day." McGiuty shook his head. '* I don't quite know what to make of it." "Wliat? haven't you a lett«(r for me?" McGinty mournfully shook his heauppy, that's wliat he is. He got you into this so'ape, and now it seems he won't get you out of it. By Heaven, I'll see that scoundrel hinisilf, and have it out with him this very day." " Oh, no. no, Freddie, you must not.' "Must not?" "Oh, no; let my secret remain a little longer. Don't, please don't, make any disturbance — ple-e-e-e-ase don't, Freddie." "Well, but I want to know wliy you tell him all your secrets, and won't tell me?" " I didn't. It was papa. It's liis business— not mine. Do you think I'd keep anything from you, Freddie, unless it was papa's " " Well, I'm ten times more your father's friend than this fellow Smithers. Do you tliink if your father was here he'd trust him? Not a bit of it. But I see how it is ; you don't care for me." "Oil, Freddie!" said Rosette. " No, you don't ; you don't care for me a bit," lepeated Fred, gloomily. teai'i awtv, « 4 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 47 *' I do— I do care for you." snid Rolette, ear- nestly. " No, you don't," persisted Fred ; " you don't care any more for me than If I were a red dog." "I do," cried Rosette, her eyes filling with tears; "and you know I do; and I think it's awfully cruel for you to say 1 don't cjnre for you when you know I care for you awfully. Everybody's cruel to me now." At tliis Fred 'jroko down. He relented. He kis.sed Rosette, and tried to soothe her. ? " I'm a confounded, infernal, and ubomina- ' ble brute and reptile, and I won't do so a^ain," he siiid. " Only I can't bear to see this ■ miserable puppy taking possession of you— 'i putting you hero among vulgar people, de- grading you to a menial position, and then J coolly refusing to get you out of it when I you're unhappy. Whatever this secret is of 1 your father's, my opinion is that it isn't much ; t mid tjiat he's a humbug, and is only taking advantage of your ignorance. What possible danger can there be to you if you live here like n lady, in a respectable way, with your own name? Or. at any rate, if you insist on con- cealing your name, why can't you f.'o and live . with the Countess? I'll tell her who you are. ^aYour seci'et will be safe with her; or, if you '^like, I'll simply tell her that you're a relative of mine— or a friend— and she'll be glad to take yon on my recommendation. At any 'rnte, this isn't the proper place for you. You're f ten times more of a lady than all these people iput together." ^ "Do you think I'm as ladylike as the Coun- tless?" aslfcd Rosette. I "The Countess? Pooh! Why, she isn't .It |to be your maid." I " I'm sure that's very kind in you to say „that, dear old Fred," said little Rosette with :M^ smile, that lieamed like sunshine through Sftlie clouds and the tears. " And I like having ;;foine one kind to me. Every one here is so 4inkind." " Who is?" said Fred, fiercely. " That beast, jSitiithers, 1 know. I'll punch his head." ';:;1 "No, no, Mr. Smithers is kind enough. The > orst is that Italian, Count Grassato." " What!" cried Fred, " that pale, slimy, oa- 3averoua little beast. Is lie sneaking about that way. Do you nuan to say that he dares toopen his mouth to you, Rosle? The nasty little reptile. I'll punch his head for him." "Oh! no, Freddie, you won't. He's a rela- tive of the Countess." " Well, and what do I care if lie Is." " Why, you're going to marry her." "Well, I'm not going to marry him, goosie, am I? And do you think I'm going to let any of them bother you ? Why, I'd ring the necks of the whole concern rather than let them bully and torment you. But can't old Patter- son have some control over -his wife? Has he ever overheard her?" Rosette sighed. " He's the worst of all." "What!" cried Fred. " He's a horrid, nasty old man," said Ro- sette, with a frown. " Why, the Infernal old devil. What do you mean, Rosle?" asked Fred, anxiously. " Why, he .comes and he talks, and he an- noys me, and he's as hflteid as he can be." "As sure as I live.'^^B Fred, " I'll pound that old vagabond to^Ttiummy. Only think of it, and he such a confounded moralizer — al- ways talking goody— always giving advice to the young. Why, he owns a chnpel in London, and jireaehes himself. Well, Rosle, if that's so, that ends it. It's an infernal disgrace to you to remain here another day. You must come. I'll speak to the Countess at once. You must come to-day, or at least to-morrow." " I don't know, I'm sure, about that, Freddie," said Rosette, in a hesitating way. " Why not?" asked Fred, sharply. " Why, I'm afraid." " Afraid ?" " Yes, for you know if I go to live with the Countess there'll be that odious little Count Grassato." " Rosette, I'll go to-day and I'll kill that little beast— or at any rate I'll beat him to a jelly; so now he shan't trouble you any more. You make up your mind to go to the Countess- mind yon— not as a servant, but as a friend; call yourself any name you like— keep your present one if you like." " Oh ! I don't know," said Rosette. " I think I'd better give myself up to the police at once and be done with it." 48 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. "Pooh! Nongeiise, you shan't doanyihlnj; of the kind. You trust to tne. I'll nmnnge every thing." . CHAPTER XrV. THE OOOI> PAPA— HIS AMIAHLE WATS. Freddio romos, and with a whaok, Lays papa upon hla back. It wns the day nfter. " Me Rosette wns nlone. Slie wassail and taken up with her own eaci tlioughts. "I'm sure," she thought to herself, "I'm like n princess in a fairy story (only, of course, I'm not a princess) in some castle, full of ogres, and giants, and vampires, and wizards, and tilings, tliat all worry me, and tease me. and torment my life out, and frighten me out of my poor little wits. The women all scold me, and the men all tease me, and, I'm sure, it's awfully cruel in papa to run away so and leave me here with such people; only, I sup- pose, he couldn't heb||||; and I do really be- .Igl: gin to wi:3h tliat I cdHf see a kind policeman, and I'd give myself up; and I wonder if i)apa would really be angry if I did? he certainly would not if he were to liear some of tlieir scoldings. And it would be so nice to be un- der the care of the police, and pio^ected from all these people." Out of such thoughts as tliese, little Rosette was suddenly roused by an nppro.icliing foot- step. She looked up, and as she did so, the door opened, disclosing the portly figure of Papa Patterson. A bland, benevolent smile was on his broad, fat face, and he advanced toward her. As he did so. Rosette's brow con- tracted slightly, and her little fingers twitched nervoHsly at her dress. The Papa approached. Rosette looked at the floor. " Well, my child," said he, in his most oily, paternal tone — "well, my child, so they have left you alone, have they? And, it seems to me, that you ain't a lookin' so bright as onst. 'Pears to me that you're lookin' a leetle sad. 'As hany think pone wrong? No bad noos, I 'ope an' pray. For I feel deeply hlnterested in you, my child— I do, indeed. I 'ope you'll ter- rust in me, and confide in me, nn' tell me all your terroubles." He stopped, awaiting some answer, but Ro- sette said nothing. Her brow was contracted worse, and her little fists were clenched. "My child," resumed the venerable papii, In a, more lioly, oily, unctuous voice than ever, "you didn't ought to be sad in this 'ere dwell- in'. It's a dwellin' of peace; It's a dwellhi' of 'appiness; an' it's a doowellin' of love. .You'd orter be gerrateful; you'd orter to think of the perrivileges that j-ou 'ave in this abode; you 'ave kind friends— lovin' friends; you 'ava mercies an' blessin's; you 'ave, above all— you 'ave me the 'ead of the 'ouse; an' when I say me, I mean a man that's known as a pillan- throphist (such was the papa's pronunciation, no pun intended), a reformer, a friend of the people, and a warm 'carted man." Anotlier pause. No answer. "Now, I've 'ad my hi on you sence you came here. I've seen you— I've noted you. I've ad- mired your goodness. I feel a true affei'tion for you, my dear child. 'N I feel, I fe-e-e-e-«- e-el " With these words lie reached oux a big fat hand so as to take the little liand of Rosette, a habit in which tlie papa was apt to indulge while talking goody talk, so as to make his words more impressive; and a habit to wliieh, I r.m sorry to say, the mamma never could be recon(!iled, so that the papa was compelled to give most of his good advice,and talk most of Ilia goody talk, behind lier back. So now he reached out for Rosette's hand, but, sad to say, he found it not. Tlie papa heaved a heavy sigh. "I want to show yoti, my dear child, that you air among loving ferriends, and that in me you liave one on whom you can rely, and in wlioin you can terrust. You have won a place, my child, in my heart. I take a deep an' abiditi' interest in you, an' I want to do you good. I want to siliow you 'ow you may best attain to terrew peace. I see as 'ow that you're a leetle too much inclined to the ways of vanity, and to the ways of wordlings, and to tlie ways of frivolity. And now I want you to tell me your terrlals and your terrubbles — and your ferribulations." "If you please, sir," said Rosette, "I'd so very much rather not have you tell me any- thing at all. I'd so very much rather not." ^ • f TUB BABES IN TUB WOOD. 40 ^^ 1 ■3 9 1/ s ^1^ •a' "3 o •a a S a a 3 •n •a 00 -3 ■V I "Uut)-cM»-i(|i, my cliildl Turrrru uot iideaf cor to tlin words of inatorruotlou." •' If you pU'fwo, Bir," said Ronuttf, politely, but Bhiirply, " I'd somri/rauclinitln'r iiotlmv»( yoii litTu talUiiiK to lue, and If you dou't very luucli mliid, 1 should wrj/ nauoli rathor bo aloiii'." I "Alouf!" miid (lie good papa, rolling up hid ^eyes and nigblng. "Oli. no— no, no. Tlial's ^ot what you vant. That's not what U good. Sbat's not what is wise. Is soUtood wholf- fome? No. So wt! luiwt all try to mako it leasunt for our dear llttlo friond. Wo must '^11 try to make 'er 'appy." 'Exi'uso me," said Ri)sette, still maintiilning ^er unfaii'jring politeness, but in a quick, Ibarp tone, raised liigb, and with tlie words #Oming out with a simp. " Kxcuse me, sir, I'd Sen/, v&r\j much rather bo (iu,'dc alone, than be irith people who talk disagreeably." I "Oil, no— no, no," Bttid the pupa again, in a !||rheedling, coaxing tone, excessively irritating ^ Eosi'tte. " you don't understand me, I see. |jome, let me tell you a pretty story." t "I beg your pardon," said Rosette, with the |itme snap in her voice, "but Ivcri/mueb pre- r not to hear any btorles at all." The papii sighed, and looked at her with a leved expression, and an air of fatherly re- ke. ^'''My dear young friend," said he, reaching ^t onee more to take her hand. Rosette l|>ied to step back, but the papa had a long tni, and his big fat hand closed around lier iider wrist, and stie was captured. "I am not your dear friend at all," said Rosette, struggling to pull her wrist from his grasp; "and I should be very much obliged indeed if you would let go my hand, sir." "Oh, no. Wait. Hear me out. But one rd. It shall be a word in season. II shall a word from one who has tried In liis feeble y t o do gt»od to his fellow creatures. Listen, child, to a solemn word." ut Rosette would not listen. With her other id she sought to disengage the grasp of her erable friend, who still went on talking in a f«|emn monotone, with his hand like n manacle. J* Lisrten, my child." he continued, " to the rds of the poet. "Ow 'appy his the child t ears— Insterructlon'g warning voice— and But at this niiiineiit there were footsti';;) and voices. Tlie door was thrown open, and lu stalked Fred. He saw It all, and stood rooted for a raomen' to the spot. The papa had been too much engaged in bis discourse to hear 'he footsteps, and eontiimed it in the same tone Ills back was turned to the door, so that he saw nothing. But little Rosette's face wa turned towards Fred, so that be inidursto 'il all. It was Hushed, her eyes glittered with intllgnant anger as she struggled in vain to get rid of the grasp that held her. "Fred!" she cried. "Oh, I am so glad I" At this old Patterson stopped short, and turned, still holding Rosette. The next in- stant Fred sprang toward liim and, without a word, hit him a smashing blow straight fiom the slioulder, full on his brnad, fat, rubhtund coiintenanee. And the aged man went over at once, and lay on his baek. Others gatheied upon the scene. The maniiiiaeaine in with a shriek; 'Arriet, pale and horrilled; Kitty, astonished ; McGinty anxious, as well he might be; fltially, tlie Countess, with her large eyes taking in th« whole scene. For a moment there was a Tableau 1 Then dumb show, in which Fred turned to Rosette and took her hand. But Rosette tore herself away aiid rushed out of the room. Then again a Tableau. The silence was at length broken by some comments put forth In a critical way by the Countess. "Dio mlo! De ole signer! 'E get caught. Dees is like one scena in de teafro— an* de Signer Fodairby is de 'ero of de play!" CHAPTER XV. THE MAMMA HEBUKES THE PAPA. Oh, good gracious I here's a row! Whore can Bosie turn to now? For some time there was dead silence. Thl3 as a matter of course. During the silence the aged papa began to pick himself up, and at length gained half way of the distance, where lie rested In a sitting position on the floor. He then reconnoitred the neighborhood. 00 THE BABES IN TUE WOOD. The first person timt lie snw was llu; iiiam- ma. lu fikct, liti eould hai'dlyuvol(l«eeiiig her first, for she stood bt-foro all the rest, coucimiI- iDg them by tier ample outline, with her eyes fixed upon liini, her arms akimbo, and her whole expression full of evil omen for the fu- ti>!-e peaue of the papa. "Well," she began, "and so it'seome to this! I do wonder that the earth don't open be- neath you. and swaller you np, or that ronKht Rosette here, know- ing, as you must have known, that this wna no place for her; stnfliiig her with nonsense; frightening her with your humbug about tht police, and stibjecting her to shame and con- tinual insult." MeGinty gnashed liis teeth, but repressed his rage by a mighty effort. "The man's mad," he said, addressing the ceiling. "It may suit you to say so," cried Fred; "1)ut you shall find that there is a method in my jnudness." "What!" cried McGinty, losing all control of himself; "is that a flirent ?'' "Take it as you please," said Fred, with a sneer. " You shall give me satisfaction for this " " And you'll have to give me satisfaction for your infernal tieat... m of Rosette. By Heav- en, sir, you must have been mad. Didn't you know \vho her friends were?" The ladles had listened to all this with frightened eyes, I'xcept the Countess, who, I am sorry to say, seemed to rather enjoy it all. " De bloked," she sighed to lierself, "ees so grand In bees anger. It moos come to one du- ello. De scena ees magniUt^antissima." But at this momiMit, Kitty liurried forward, and stood between the two. laying her hand on McQinty'sorm. "For shame, gentlemen," she cried; "you forget that ladies are liere. Mr. Smithers, ]/ou^ I'm sure, will not carry on this brawl." Hot, fierce words were on McGlnty's tongue, but they died away at the touch of Kitty's lit- tle hand. His eyes were lowered from the face of Fred, and falling, encountered the soft glance of Kitty turned appealingly toward him. He sighed. Fred saw it all. " I beg pardon. ladies,",8ald he. " Mr. Sroith- ers and I can see one another elsewhere" I TnE BABES m TUE WOOD. 51 Ills witli who, 1 y it all. •' eea so one du- I tongue, itty'Bllt- the face the soft towHrd r.Sinlth- " As you please, sir," said McGinty. Fretl tlien stalked out of tlie liouse. "Well," said 'Airiet, "it seems that wo are no longer mistresses in our house. Rosette is mistress liere. Gentlemen eome ami go with no otlier purpose in life, apparently, tlian to qiiarn;! and brawl about her. I be;; pardon, Mr. Smltliers, and hope I have not just said anytliing about Rosette to wound your feel- ings. We all know how important her wel- fare is to you. Perhaps, in future, she will be happier, and you, too, if she is taken under your immediate proteetion." Willi this parting shot, 'Arriet turned to her mamma, and taking the old lady's arm, drew her out of the room. Kitty, whose faee was now flushing crimson, bade a cold adieu to McGinty, and with the Countess, followed the otlier ladies. CHAPTER XVI. THE mamma's last SHOT. WImt nn odious persecutor- Poor Bosotto can never suit her. I liiTTLE Rosette had fled to iiertncd slightly, after which she regarded Rosette with a new and very peculia; interest indeed, as though this discovery had suddenly invested ( 54 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. <: i ; ber with an uiiusunl iinportaneo iu lier eyes. But the silenco was broken by the old hicly. After a few moments of speechless horror, she started to her feet with something like a Boream. *' The police!" she cried. " Hiding from the police! under a false name, and in my house! Seize her! She's a convfot! Turn lier out. Send for a policeman !" But 'Arriet sprang up and made her mother stop abruptly, by the summary jjrocess of put- ting her hand over the mamma's mouth. At which the old lady sat down blubbering. 'Arriet then turned to Rosette. "May I ask," she said, with some civility of manner, "how wo are to know that this is true?" "I am not in the habit of saying what is not true," said Rosette, hauglitily. " If you do not trust a liidy's word, however, yoti may ask Mr. Smlthers." "Tliank you," said 'Arriet, "and will you allow me to ask you one fuither question — for my own satisfaction — that is, if you have no obj^•ction, would you tell us your name?" "My name," said Rosette, "is Merivale. Have you ever heard of Sir Eugene Merivale, of Berks. He is my papa." At this astounding piece of information the mamma sat staring, like one stupefied by a sudden shock. 'Arriet looked frightened, Kitty half started to her feet, and tlien sank back in her chair. The Countess' face flushed, her eyes glowed briglit witli intense excite- mett, and she murmured to herself, in alow voice : " Merivale t Diavolo /" CHAPTER XVII. IfGINTY ANNOUNCES HIS OWN DEATB. And In what a wretched stale be tries To plunge the hapless Kitty 1 McGinty's position gradually grew intolera- ble, and every day he drew nearer to utter des- peration. Desperate diseases require desper- ate remedies, and so at lengtli ho resolved to strike a final blow, which, as he expressed it, would either kill or cure. The next day he waited upon Kitty. Gloom was on his brow. His eyes were lowered. His manner was sepulchral. He sighed frequent- ly. He did not speak, but pressed her hand in silence. " Oh, Mr. Smlthers, how awfully you look. Something's happened. Oh, tell me. I never was so f riglitened in ail my life." MeGinty sighed, and taking a seat, sat with bowed head, the image of despair. "Oh, Mr. Smlthers, how can you have the heart to sit there looking so owl-like, and keep mo in utter torment and suspense? Tell me. Oil, tell me all." "I dare not," said McGinty, with a groan. "Dare not? Oh, tell me. You must. Is it anything so very absolutely terrific?" " I cannot." " But you must, vou know; so oh, pray do make haste." " Can you bear it?" he inquired. "How ean I tell whether I can or not, till 1 know what it is?" MeGinty drew a long breath. Then, raising liis eyes, lie regarded her witli a solemn gaze, and said : " You wanted to hear from MeGinty?" " Of course I do — and if you haven't brouglit mo a letter, I m ill never forgive you as long as Hive." MeGinty siglied. "You will never hear from him again," said he, in a dismal tone. "Oh, Mr. Smlthers!" cried Kitty, clasping lier liands, " what in tlie world can j-ou ])o$si- blymean? Do you mean tiiat Mr. MeGinty lias gone and become a Reiiublican conspira- tor?" " No," siiid MeGinty. " Worse than that." "JIas he gene mad ?" "Worse than even that" "Oh, dear! WI13' don't you tell me?" said Kitty, " when you know I am always sostupid at guessing things. Has he changed bis name?" "No," said MeGinty, with a start. " Has he caught tlie small pox?" At tills question MeGinty felt as though he were turned to stone. It was so horribly ab- rupt. It was asked in such a nialter-of-faot tone. He liad intended to lead up the conver- sation to this very point, by slow degrees, and very cautiously ; but when it was forced out '■m THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 55 J frequcut- 1 her liand in T you look. e. I never it, sat with II have the 6, niid keep '1 )? Tell me. a groan. uust. Is it ?" )h, pray do not, till 1 len, raising emn gnze, ity?" I't brought as long as !aiu," said , clasping jou i)os9i- McGinly consijira- n that." ue?" said V i 80 Stupid i nged bis i hnugh he ribly ab- er-of-faot le oonver- n ees, and need out thus suddenly, be was quite unprepared, and recoiled in terror and dismay. *' What makes you ask that?" he said, in a hollow voice. " Why, because I thought of it. You've had it, you know, and I've often thought that, if it weren't for that, you'd be the most awfully conoeited man tiuit ever lived in all the world. You must have been awfully handsome " "Handsome!" thouglit McGiiity. "Apollo. Antinous, Hermes— type of manly beauty. Little doesshe t liiuk— all me ! How cm " r j on ?" "Oh, Mr. Smithers! why— oli! wliy are you silent? It is— it is— it must be— my McGinty has the small pox! Oh! oh! oh! oh! oli! oli! When he used to be so awfully vain, and spent nearly all tlie time before the looking-glass. Oil! oh! what will become of him? lie will blow his brains out! Oh! lie was so conceited!" McGinty writhed under this. It was hard — Very hard— 7ie conceited? He could repel the unjust imputation with scorn. But the effect on Kitty gave him something else to think of. Her tiorror at the idea of small pox seemed to confirm his worst fears. It was all up. He must not allow her to dwell on this idea. lie retreated now at once from telling the truth, at least for the present, and tried to get up something else. "It -it's not quite that," said he; "not— the , sum-sum-all-pox, you know!" he stammered. "Not the small pox?" said Kitty. "Tlien lie must have gone and fallen in love with some other woman, and run away with her— some one like Rosette. Oh! I know it. He had an awful fancy for that style. Oli, I've dreaded this a thousand times a day, and I've thouglit of it a thousand thousand times over, and over, and over, and I've made up my mind that if he overran away with anybody and got married, I would never forgive him as long as I lived— that is, if it was a woman." This, also, was very unpleasant to McGinty, and grated on his soul. He hastened to draw Kitty away from this fancy. "It isn't tliat," Bald ho "Not that!" "No. Worse!" "Worse?" " Yes-he's-he'B-he'sdeadl" said McGinty, in on awful voioe. At this Kitty stared for a moment at him, and then bowed her head. She drew her hand- kerchief and covered her face, and turned away. McGinty looked on in dismay. He saw her slender, graceful figure all shaken with convulsive emotion. Ho longed to soothe her, to take her in his arms— to tell her all. Ho dared not. At last, Kitty started to her feet, and rushed wildly out of the room. "Wretch that 1 am. Villain! Mlsoreantl" muttered McGinty. " 1 was too abrupt. It was too hard. It's au awful blow. She'll never get over it. The eiid of it all is, I'll have to blow my brains out." CHAPTER XVIII. MoGINTY PBOXOCNCE9 TIIS OWN FUNERAI< DIS- COURSE. Here's n thing to make one laugh, Mao indites bis epitaph. McCtnty wandered about, plunged in the depths of gloom, in anxious suspense, dread- ing the worst, and toward evening dropped in again. He sent a note to Kitty, earnestly ask- ing her to see him, and enclosing another let- ter, written in back band, and purporting to be from an imaginary friend in Naples, which gave a business-like account of the sudden illness and death of McGiuty. Kitty sent word that she would be down in a few minutes, and McGinty was full of hope and gratitude for such a mark of kindness and confidence. Before long she made her appear- ance. It was evening, and he could not see whether there was any very great change in her appearance. Repressed her hand in silence, and she said nothing. They then sat down, and McGinty began to try to think of some speech of general condolence. " I hope you will excuse me," said Kitty, at length, in n low voice, " for appearing in this dress; but I have not bad time to get mourn- ing, and besides, I believe, after all, I am not expected to wear it." These remarks grated on McQinty's soul. They seemed heartless. Yet he knew she was 56 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. not, and tbU mailH liiin fear tliut hur miud wiis affected. " I dou't kuow, I'm sure," aaid he. And then Kitty bowed her head nnd put her handker- chief to her face. McGinty could sco that a shudder rau tlirough Iter. Ah! lie thought, that s?utle heart will not readily recover from tliis. It has been too mucli— too uiucli. I must try to soothe her. *' Well," said he, in a deep, hoUou', sepul- chral voice, which he had fashioned upon the holy tone of a revered clersymau whom he had kuowu in his youth; " ueil, our dear McGinty is gone; but we must try to feel as though we would not wis^h hiui back if we could. His loss is our gain." At this, another sliudder passed through poor Kitty, and quite convulsed her. McGinty went on: " He was my friend," said he. " I shall al- ways revere his memory. As handsome as Apollo, wltli the symmetrical figure of an Antinous, and the grace of a Hermes, I never have met with the man that was the equal, physically, of our departed friend. And yet, his great personal advantages never spoiled him. As unconscious of tliese as a child, he had all a child's unfettered ease and grace. In character, he was even better. Generous to a fault; brave; chivalrous; admired by men, and adored by women— such was McGinty. In- telleotually, also, he was rarely endowed. He was the life of every circle, the soul of every gathering. I've often and often thought to myself of the future tliat lay before that man. " • McGinty, my boy,' I used to say, ' McGin- ty, there's not your equal living. You must go into Parliament. Tliat's the place for you. Your knowledge of mankind, your genius for debate, your genial and popular manner, your gentlemanly breeding, and your wonderful administrative ability, all point you out as one who could rise to the topmost summit of greatness, and be facile princeps among the first statesmen of the age.' " While McGinty had thus been indulging in thia faint tribute to departed worth, the agita- tion of Kitty was growing more and more evident. She trembled violently. The oon- TulsiouB were more frequent. She pressed her hantlkercliief closer and closer to her face. nu;l to her mouth, to hide her tears and to stiflo her cries. In vain. Her emotions were too strong for her, possibly: as he reached the close, they swept suddenly away beyond all control. "Oh, I can't stand it!" she cried. "It's too much!" She started to her feet. She buist into a peal of laughter— loud, long, merry, inusiciil— peal after peal. She staggered with faltering steps to tiie door. She rushed out. and tlie horrified McGinty heard her laugh ringing along the corridor. lie stood the picture of despair. "Hysterical," ho murmured. "Oh, Kitty! darling Kitty! what a wretcli am I!" CHAPTER XIX. MiQINTT BIDS AN ETERNAL FABEWEIX. Bids good-bye forevermoro, Then cornea calhng as before. The following day McGinty found Kitty calmer. She met him with a sedate and de- mure face, greeted him languidly, and in a low voice, apologized to him for her agitation on the preceding day, assuring him that it was uncontrollable. "Say no more," said McGinty. "I under- stand. I was to blame. 1 shall never forgive myself." " I have read that letter," said Kifty, after a pause. " I suppose you will go at once to Na- ples?" "To Naples?" McGinty looked surprised. "Yes," said Kitty, dolefully, "to perform the last acts of friendship." McGinty looiced embarrassed. " Well," said he, " to tell the truth, I was not thinking of going there— that is, not just yet." "Not just yet? Why, when can you go?" asked Kitty, in a tone of mournful reproach. "Well, yon see," said McGinty, "my duty seems to keep me here." "Duty ? Why, what possible duty cnn be equal to that which is owing to the departed ? That is a thousand thousand times mori pressing than any other." " Well, you see," said MoGinty, " I'm very I THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 57 peouliiirly situated. I don't exactly like to leave you just now, in this hour of grief, and I feel like following the Bible doctrine, 'Let the dead buiy their dead.' " "I do really think," said Kitty, "that that ia the awfullest thing I ever heard said in all my life." " But I feel that you need consolation," said McGinty, in an apologetic tone; "and we've been so much together, and known so much about one another, that I thought I could be able to— to— to .soothe your sorrows, and— and —but then, again, I couUlu't bring myself to go r.way ; it would be so lonely." "Lonely?" "Yes— away from you!" "Why. would you miss me so very much?" said Kitty, in a mournful voice. "Awfully," said McGinty; "and, besides, I should seem a recreant, not only to you, but to the— the— the departed, you know. He sent me to take Ciire of you, and watch over you, and be in his place till he came: and if I were to leave you, you know, it would seem like betraying a trust, and being a traitor to my noble friend. Why, his ghost would haunt me." "I'm su -e, Mr. Smithera," said Kitty, "I feel very much obliged, indeed, and I never met with so attentive a person as you in all my life; but, at the same time, under present circum- stances, it stands to reason that " "Tliat what?" asked McGinty, anxiously, as she hesitated. "Well, you know, I neant it stands to rea- son that you can't take care of me now, and watch over nie, and follow me, and all that." "I don't see why," wailed McGinty, as his soul plunged down into despair. "Don't see wliy?' repeated Kitty,' in sur- prise. "I do think that is the most extraor- dinary thing I ever heard. How can you pos- sibly watch over me, and take care of me, when T have to go back to poor dear aunty's?" McGinty trembled. "Oh, Miss Kinnear! Oh, Kitty! Oh, my dear! Oh, don't, don't, don't go back to your aunt's. Stay here. Let me lake care of you a little while longer." "Why this is perfectly preposterous," said ^tty. " I can't imagine what you mean I" "Oh, Kitty ! can't you understand me? " Really, Mr. Smithers, I can't form even the faintest possible ray of the most distant con- ception of what you mean." "Oh, Kitty! forgive me. I love you so. Be mine. Oil, let me take the place of McGinty! Let me have you always by my side!" And with these words, which poured from him impetuously and irresistibly, the wretch- ed McGinty flung himself on his knees at Kitty's feet, and tried to take her hand. Kitty let him take her hand. She sat there, and raised her face and her eyes toward the ceiling. "This is friglitful!" she said, in a low voice; "it is simply friglitful! Oh, liow perfectly awful— and for yon ! Why, I never heard any- thingso utterly terriUc in ail my life! Why, it's wicked! And you of all men, Mr. Suiith- crs! And before poor, dear Mr. McGinty is in his grave. And when I trusted you so. Why, it's enough to bring him back to life again!" At this Kitty gently withdrew her hand from McGinty, wlio, by-the-way, had been kissing it some dozens of times, and said : "This scene has been so i)ainful, Mr. Smith- ers, that you will have to excuse me just now." Mi'Ginty gave her an imploring look. She was excessively agitated. She buried her face in lier handkerchief. "Will you bid me farewell?" said he, in a sepuiclirnl voice. " One last, long farewell?" Kitty was silent. "Once— only— Kitty— darling Kitty!" said McGinty, trembling from head to foot; "once only ! Let nie bid you an eternal farewell — will you?" Kitty sighed. McGinty ventured nearer. He took her in his arms. He bent down over her, and press- ing her close in his embrace, he gave her a long, convulsive kiss. Then he sighed. "Farewell, forever!" said he. "Farewell, forever!" said Kitty, in alow voice. She moved away to the door. Then she turned and looked back. He was still standing on the same spot where she bad left him. i 58 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. ♦• Well," siild she, iu her uaiiul tone, " I sup- pose I siinll see you to-morrow ?" "Oil, yea," said McGiuty. Whereupon Kitty went to hei- room, fliins herself on her bed, iiud laughed till her head oohed. CHAPTER XX. HERKTHIS STORY EXTEHS UPON A THEMENDOirS SERIES OF CATASTROPnES WHICH ARE UN- SQUALLED IN MODERN FICTION. Decils o( darkness, fetters, chnins, And the torture chamber's pains. It was about noon on the following day a close carriage drove up to tlio house where the Pattersons lodged, and stopped at the door. It was a peculiar looking can iage— sombre, not exactly shabby, but very dusty— not exactly theoarriiigeof a public fuuetioiuiry, yet cer- tain public ofUtials were coiinecled with it, for on the bo.x was a gen-d'arme, and behind were two others. Moreover, when the car- riage stopped, the gen-darmes descended, and one of them opened the door and let down the steps, and thei-e emerged two individuals of sombre appearance, one of whom looked like a retired nnilertaker, while the other seemed likeaperson who mi^ihtbeapolicemagistrate. All of which cheerful crowd entered tlie house and ascending to the upper floor, called for Meestalr Pnttasone. Who appeared with a scar on his forehead, just between the eyes, and a badly swollen nose, which nose rapidly turned from red to white, as did the rest of the face, when he looked upon his unwholesome visitors. For they were nil redolent of the law— and the law on the Continent of Europe, and particularly in Rome, was at that time a thing of awe un- speakable to the average Britisher. This average Britisher was by no means re- assured at the words which weie spoken. The Retired Undertaker did the talking, al- ways referring, however, to the Functionary of dismal dye already mentioned as half Eeele- siastio and half Police Magistrate. The Re- tired Undertaker, in fact, seemed to be Inter- preter to the other, and to gain his honest but laborious livelihood by the sweat of his brow, wrung out by hard labor of tlie braiu, in per- petual exercises at translating viva voce from the Italian into other languages, and back again. Which Retired Undertaker, directed by the Functiotuiry, proceeded toask thepnpaanum- her of minute questions — as to his name, resi- dence, business, motive iu coming to Italy, time of slay in Rome; whetlier he was mar- ried ; age of self and wife; birth place of wife; number of children, names of children; wlielh- er lie had any f rieuds iu Rome, or in other parts of Italy; tuunes of frieiuls, ngea, callings, rank in life; whether married or single; to- gether with others too numerous to mention. Such matter of fact questions us these about the ordiiuuy affairs of life gradually restored to the frightened papa his presence of mind and his ordinary instincts; and being of a strong business turn, as the ruling passion re- vived witliin him, he sought to turn this inter- view to his own advantage, and tlierefore en- deavored to interweave with the answers to these questions valuable information as to the exeelleiiees ,of the Patent Medicines with wliich his name was conneeted. He had al- ready come to the conclusion tliat these visi- tors of forbidding ospeet were simple census takers, or Inspectors General of Travelers, and was devising some way of turning this in- terview to account in an advertising way, when the conversation took a new turn, which once more plunged the good papa into the depths of gloom. The Retired Undertaker, after a prolonged converse witli the Functionary, turned to the papa, and spoke tlie following: " Now, see here. Mr. Patterson, it is plain that you are talking round the question, and are endeavoring to lead the conversation to irrelevant things, like Pills and Doctor's Pow- ders. But I must make you understand that we are not men to be trifled with. This sig- ner, is his Excellency, the Prefect of the Muni- cipal Police, before whom important informa- tion has been laid, which he has come forth to investigate and to act upon. You are seri- ously implicated in a charge of a very grave character, and if you have any regard for your liberty you will answer our questions directly, without any further allusions toirrel- •*;ii THE BABES IN TUB WOOD. 89 I «viiut luattera. These times me perilous, mid no one cativi'iituro to triflo witli tiio Muui- ciiml Poliff." Now, tlint was a very pretty speecli for a Retired [Jiidertaker, and for an Italian— good plain English— tenil)ly plain— so plain tliat the venerable papa found himself oollai)aing. What words were those whioh ho had hoard! IIo was confronted with a!i offleiul of the most ex;ilted charaeter, no less than his Excel- lency file Prefect of the Municipal Police. The Police! The Municipal Police! Awful, tremendous thought. His youth liad been spent in readings which liad leferenco to the tyr.iuny of foreign despots and the glories of Britannia, llis later years liad been taken up with rampant Radicalism, which liad be- come his Religion, and whicsli had led him to regard the free Britain as the first of created beings, and all foreigners, witliout exception, as degraded slaves. To him the Police of a foreign state was the sum ana substance of all human iuiquity, and the very word was a word of horror, associated with all that is most frightful to the human imagination. The blood of the aged papa seemed to freeze ill llis veins— his heart seemed to stop beating -ills hair liristled-his knees smote together, and his tongue adhered to the roof of his mouth, IIo was like a boy in the presence of Old Bogie. Therefore it was that the faculties of the veuerable papa, never very l)rilliant, now for a time utterly deserted him; and while the Retired Undertaker discoursed to him about tli i' benefits of frankness, he scarcely understood a word of wliat was said to him, but sat trem- bling, staring, a dumb, inarticulate papa. Having reached this stage of prostration, he awaited tlie next questioning. "Information of a sei-ious nature has been handed in against you," said the Retired Undertaker; "you are implicated in a serious offense against the laws." At this, Patterson sent his memory out on a wild career over the Past, but could think of nothing that mightbe construed into an offense against any laws, except his getting knocsked down by Fred, and that was nn offense which be had not luflicted, but suffered. " If, as wo suppose, you have any confed- erates," continued the Retired One, "associates, correspondents, or othurwiae, it will be best for you to tell at once, so as to save further trouble to yourself and us." This only served to deepen tlie mystery, for it showed that no iiossiblc reference was made to his quarrel with Fred. It must be Bomething t^lso altogether, whicli might thus lead to ques- tions about confederates and correspondents. "At the same time," continued the Retired One, "you must lie informed tluvt for some time past you liave been under surveillance, and that certain words and acts of yours havd been reported." This made it more mysterious than ever. Patterson tried to recollect whether ho had been indulging in any counterbliista against foieign tyranny of late, but could not call them to mind. Ills last one had been neai Spoleto, and had been checked by Fred. The consciousness of innocence gave him a feelliiR of great relief, and he l)cgan to indulge n treml>ling hope tiiat he might yet emerge from the darkness of his present despair. The Retired One now called upon bim to make his confession. " I— I ain't got nothink to confess, sir," said the papa, very tremulously. " I— I never said nothink against the government. I can prove it." " Take care!" said the Retired One. " I can prove it," continued the papa; " and I'll take my davy afore the British Hambas- sador." At this there was some conversation between the Retired One and the Prefect of the Munici- pal Police, after which the former returned to the charge, and fired off the following: "His Excellency here wishes me to give you warning that this visitation is authoritative. You will, therefore, answer with candor and fullness. Above all, he wishes me to warn you against any foolish confidence in the protec- tion of your ambassador. Those who violate Roman law must come under Roman jurisdic- tion, and be tried under such law, and be pun- ished in case of conviction. British insolence, British prejudice, and British swagger will only injure you." It was a beautiful thing to see the faoo, atti- tude, expression and mien of the papa, as be 60 THE BABES IN TUE WOOD. l\ was thus wnrned ngalnat indulgiiiK in "British awnggur." IIu stood tliere in u state of col- lapge, Ilia jaw fallen, hia eyea wandering round from one to another in helpless appeal- while on his face there was a mixture of ser- vility, obsequiousness, apprehension, horror, and deadly fright. "Come now,"' said the Retired Oi'e, "answer one question — where is Merivale?" "Merivalel" Patterson repeated the name in a wondering way. "Yea." -'I don't know," said he helplessly. " You had better telJ all," said the Tletired One. "B— b— but how kik— kik— can I tell when I did— did— don't know hanythink at— at all about Mm?" CHAPTER XXI. THE HAMMA AT BAY— nEARDING THE LION— THE PBEFECT OF THE MCNICIPAL POLirE IS NONPLUSSED. Goodness 1 lawk a muasy me I What d'ye want with my Blllyf The Functionary at length found out this : that if he wished to obtain information tiiey oould not elicit it from Sigiior Pattasino. lie grew more and more helpless every minute. The dread shadow of the Police was over his eoul, and he seemed already to be tasting of the bitterness of death. At first the Prefect attributed this to the cunning of a guilty accomplice; all his trem- bling, all his agitation, and all bis iucoherency, were regarded as so many very transparent devices to mislead or baffle them. As a conse- quence he was liberal in the outlay of means to frighten him into a confession. All the thun- ders of the tribunals of justice were therefore brandished over him, and launched m fury upon his miserable head. The Interpreter's English lacked something of the sonorous power of the Prefect's Italian maledictions, yet its effect upon the hapless Pattasino was so withering that the Prefect had every reason to feel satisfied that it had reached tlie mark, and that hia words had not returned to him void. For in the end he perceived that the terror could not be counterfeited, but was ao real tliat all sense bad fled away. The Prefect, however, had come with a pur- pose, and he was not willing to no until he hud exhausted every mode of investigation. In- formation had been given him against this family, and he lioped to find out something from some one of its members. After oon- aulting a paper for a time, he aent the Inter- preter to summon the Signora. In due time the mamma made her appear- ance. It was evident that the Interpreter had conveyed Ids invitation to her in such a way that she had no idea of the true nature of the case, but had some idea of entertaining some public functionary who had come out of civil- ity or respect. All thia was on her face as she entered, for there waa an attempt at dignity, tempered by a gracious desire to do the agree- able. She smiled around on all the company, and then said : "Deeply honored, gents all; an' much hobli- gated ^or the Tionor of this call, and if I can do hany think for any of you, aay the word." But as her beaming eye roved about the room, it auddenly rested upon the figure of her husband. He had sunk into a chair, in which he sat overwhelmed, with a white face of terror, looking like one who had seen a ;:host. The mamma gave aery and hurried to ward liiin. "Why, Billy!" she cried. "Billy! why, Billy! what's the matter?" The papa gave a groan. " Are you faint ? 'Ave you 'ad a bad turn ? Let me get some gin. Oh, Billy, what ever 'ave come over you ?" The suspicion suddenly occurred that these visitors had been the eauae, and ahe threw a hasty look around, which was by no means ao friendly aa it had been a minute befoiv. She then went to a closet where she found a blaifk bottle, out of which she poured aome liquid for her husband. He took it with a trembling band, and swallowed it, the mamma soothing him gently and affectionately, and plying him with questions as to his health. The papa seemed to regain a little of his composure, and sat up straighter in his chair, but the awe of the Police was atill on him, and he refuaed to tell his wife what had brought him to grief, and only hinted that he had not got over the effect of yeaterday'a accident. And now the Interpreter requested the mam- mu with a piir- KO until lioliud eatigatioii. lu- im agaiust this out Boinething irs. Aftor con- sent the luter- le her ni)[)('nr- Jiterproter had in such a way I nature of tlio ertaininf? some ne out of fivil- her faoe ns she opt at dignity, o do the [Xf^vee- . the company, ■>' . in' much hobli- .11, and if I can lay the word." ved about the heflguri'of her chair, in whicJi white fiico of id seen a ^host. led toward liiiD. "Billy! why. ad a had turn ? illy, what nvcr red that those ind she tlirew a jy no means so te before. Slie 3 found a bla(;k id some liquid ith atrenibliufr imma soothiiiR and plying him 1th. The papa composure, and , but tlie awe of l1 he refused to t him to grief, ot got over the nested the mam- TUE HAUKS m THE WOOD. Gl ■L t4 & mil to kIvi! Iifi- iittoiitioii. Tlic mamiiHi ac- conlinirly »i'iitt'tl liiTself bfitldo liti' Imslmml, bolilliiK M* IiuihI ill a iJiottu-tliiK way, an i lioiiuli ffariiiK fnrtluT lianii for liim. ■ "8i)iiic»ia," Kiid tlio Intel prcttT, In "lint was ^iwiiit to 1x1 Ills most liiiprtis'slvi) inaiiiier, f'iUU U His Exfcllciiuy. tlin Pnft'ct of tin- JMuuicipal I'ollw, and ho lia^i coino to iiivcstl- gixUi otTtalii uliiiiKt'3 wliicli liavf been made H^aliist tills family. Wo wish you to aiixwcr 'inily and honi'slly all tliat yon know. To iili (SO who fonfi'^'*, wi'know how to bo nuTfi- ful, but to thos(^ who arc oliduraU', wo <'aii bo •cvfie. Do not hope to trill' Willi us, but .111- ,»wcr honestly, not only for your own sake, ' lait for tho sake! of your husband also." Whllo tho Intt'ipritcr had lu'cn spiakiii'; tlicso words, tlio »'fftH!t upon tho maiiiiiia was \(ry pi'culiar. At tho llrst ultiraiu'i' of that tlriMid iiamo, a eiiango enino ovor her. Slio sat erect; her hands camo togethur with a tight clench; her oyes grew hard and steely; her nostrils swellod, and her brow pathered into a I frown. Her reoeptiou of this annoiineement was tho very opposite of tho papa's. All fem- inine softness vanished ; sliu seemed liko n she- wolf guarding her young against the npproaeh- ; ing hunters. \ As the Interpreter eeased, the mamma slow- i ly rose from tho chair, stotxl ereet upon her J? feet, fixed her eyes upon tho Pn^feot of the J Police, threw her head back, put one foot before the other, and placed her arms akimbo. The sight of this acted upon the papa liko a coidial. No one know better than ho did Mhal "i that meant. When the inammn liad taken up , that position, and that attitude, and put on I that loolc, it meant that she was on tho war- path. Hitherto she had found few who could face her. The papa's crushed heart swelled with hope and confidence. It was like Andro- meda at the approach of Perseus, or tho dis- tressed damsel of chivalry, at the advent of the knight errant. "So that's it, is it?" she began. "Tho Po- lice! the Police! an' so yeoati't find hnnythink better to do than to come au' f riken a pore old body like my Billy with yer Police Bugaboo! An' now that ye'vo got here, what Is it? What do you want? No tomfoolery, but speak hup- pandownd." To this the Interpreter responde I hya warn- ing iiiid a eiiutiou, and then dlrect iiufihter 1ms this houso. useless, nnd r only hope 'ft upon the it the whole tte; and, if d whieh she ihowed her, only throw ' upon the ■d, but also that "ojus that the sli revolu- luee of the arrest of y it please lore oi 'im rter oaino 'oiise, an' )oiits; an' ink about h 'er airs nn' slie's Ro away, •mint." d. and, at iwi.y and ed. The and, nnd T return. papa wns feet and n dumb, Lnd almost Incapable of motion, and in Ih'd Itate ho was taken to his awful dostinatiou. It was not very lou}r before the mamma ro- iurnud alouR with Rosette. The latter alone Vas allowed to enter. The two gen-darmes kept the mamma bauk, and the door was AND IN THE HANDS OF THE POLJCB. liiickloss Roslo, here we are, Fastened up with bolt and bar. RosKTTi: entered the apartment with her sual self-possession, and calmly surveyed the uipauy. She was still dressed iu the cos- tume in whieh she had come to the house, nnd which, to those present, was of course the disguise of a fugitive. But those present were .evidently surprised at her appearance, since It was different from what they had antici- pated. For the daughter of a mini who had t)eeu denounced as a dangerous conspirator, f " This is His Exoelleney 11 Conte dl Cerl- iosso." Rosette bowed very pleasantly. "I am very happy to make your acquaint- auoe, Mr. Cherryuose," said she, thinking at the same time, wliat n funny name. '• He Is the Prefect of the Municipal Police, and has oome to Inquire about vertalu Infor- mation relating to yourself, and also to Sig- ner, your fattier." The terrors of that name did not seem to affect Rosette at all. She caught only the a>- lusion to her father. "Oh! I am so glad," she said. "Now, per- iiaps, we uuiy be able to talk It all over, and find out wliere In the world he Is, for really, do you know, I'm beginning to feel quite anxious about poor dear papa." " He is your father, then?" asked the Intei^ preter. " Certainly," said Rosette, who thought it a very funny question, indeed; just as If any l)olsh to say anymore to you just now. Uut as there Is a serious charge against you, ii will be necessary for you to leave this house and come with us— and you will be examined further afterwards." At tliis Rosette sprang from her chair to her feet. " Leave this house!" she exclaimed. " I am sorry, but It will be necessary." At this Rosette's face flushed very red, and her ey«'8 sparkled with joy. " Oh, I'm so very, very much oltliged to you nil. It really ispnrticiilnrly goodin you tocome here for lue. I had about made up my mind ll 64 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. to give myself up, only I didn't Iidow bow to go II bout it quite, and now it will be all so nice. Aud please, am I to stay with you?" At tliia last question, which was asked in rather an anxious tone, Rosette looked inquir- ingly at the Prefect. As (he Interpreter explained this, the Prefect looked puzzled, and seemed not to know what to make of it all. " His Excellency assures you," said the In- terpreter, "that everything will depend upon your statements." ' " Oh, then," said Rosette, "I shall be particu- larly careful how I behave, and I'm sure you shall have no fault to find with me, if I can help it!" This answer puzzled the Prefect also. It seemed to him a little like a hint that she would confess nothing; he made the Interpre- ter say it all over a seooud time, but ilually gave it up, and then took a long stare at his captive. Little Rosettts returned his stare with a timile; slie felt very well disposed, in- deed, toward him. After her experiences at the Pattersons' these seemed like true friends, and tlie courteous air of the Prefect, and cere- monious language of the Interpreter, were very pleasant to one who had listened to the brutal taunts of the mamma. So she sat smil- ing very pleasantly, and her large eyes rested solemnly, yet very amiably, upon the Prefect, who tried to read in them, and in the sweet, round face, something of that cunning whieh be had suspected. But little Rosette's face, like ber words, remained i conundrum in- Boluable. He gave it up. So tlie Prefect rose and spoke further with the Interpreter. "You will now please to come with us," said he. "Now? how perfectly lovely I" said Rosette. "Shall we walk?" "Oh, no— we have a carriage, and you are to get in." " Oh, thank you very much. I hope you have not put yourself out too much, for after all I can really walk just as well— that is." she added, "If it is not very far." *' Ob, it is not far," said the Interpreter, grimly, "and it is no trouble at all." How very kind they are to me, thought Bo- sette. How I wish I had gone to them first. But, then, bow did I know? How foolish of Mr. Smitbers; and poor Freddie, how de- lighted he'll be. Only I wish be was going too. With these very pleiujaut thoughts, whiob threw around her face an air of great peace and happiness, little Rosette prepared to fol- low her captors. One geu-darme went first; then the Prefect ; then two gen-darmes, aa though to guard the i)risoner; and last of all, the Inteipreter. Little Rosette, however, re- mained altogether unconscious of her formid- al)le guard, aud merely thought of them all as friends and protectois. On reaching the carriage, the first gen-darme opened the door and stood waiting. The Pre- feet stood looking at Rosette, and motioned witli his hand. " Am I to get in here?" asked Rosette. " Thank you," and then she got in. The Pre- fect followed, and last tbe Interpreter. Then the carriage was closed, the gen-darmes mounted before and behind, and the carriage drov(* away to the Prefecture of the Police. People in the streets had seen the carriage and tie fair young prisoner. They averted their heads, and hastened on. Passers by saw tbe carriage as it drove to its destination, and pitied the victim inside, whoever it might be. And so on through the streets, and over tbe PoTite do S'Angelo to tbe other side of the Tiber. Rosette was perfectly happy, aud at peace with all the world. How perfectly lovely this is, she said to herself ; and what nice people the Police are, and what a contrast between such a man as Mr. Cherrynose and that dreadful old mau. I dare say if he could talk English, he'd be de- lightful. Why, one would think that I bad been a prisoner in the Ogre's Castle, like the princess in the fairy story, and that I did have a good fairy, after all— aud that she sent these good, kind, nice people, and this nice carriage, to take me away from Ogre Castle ; and then she added, in ber thoughts: It would be well if some people were not so much like ogres, and more like ladies and gentlemen. At length the carriage stopped. Tbe door opened. All got cut. Rosette looked around with a bright glance of interest aud curiosity. THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 65 them first. How foolish lie, how de- ns Koiug too. iglits, which great peace iired to fol- went first; i-dnrmes, as \ last of all, lowever, ro- ller formid- of them all it gen-darme g. The Pre- d motioned :ed Rosette. I. Tbo Pre- reter. Tlien pen-darmes the onrringe '. the Police. can iage and verted their by saw the nation, and t might be. ud over the side of the ud at peace he said to Police are, a man as old man. I he'd be de- that I had le, like the 1 1 (lid have sent these oe carriage, and then lid be well like ogres, I. The door Ked around I curiosity. ; was a stone-paved court yard, with study lildiugs around it. At oue end was a eii cii- liir muss, on the summit of wliicli was tlie •Ititue of ail angel. Some people would IWive found the seeiie «loo»iy, l>ut to Rosette || seiiiifd to be the paliieeof the Good Fairy. A sentinel or two paced about here and then', a^d upon a bench near a doorway some sol- <|teis off guard were seiited. Toward tliis #>ortlie Prefect led the waj-, and the Intel - ^eter asked Rosette to follow. At tlieir np- ll^oaeh, the soldiers arose and gave the luiii- ti^iy salute, and the sentinel presented anus, lUl of whieli seemed to Rosette to be very jihitifying and compliineiitaiy. aKnlering the door she found herself in a n>ne-|>avvd liall, with doorways on each side. IjtDre soldiers were here, all of whom gii re the liplitary salute. Passing down this hall, tliey wiie to a winding stairway of stone itltlie iSpther end. up whicli the Prefect led thew:iy. ^M.tthe tup was a small chamber, from whidi kn a narrow {iiillery. Down this they passed, [was lighted here and tliere by a t wiuUling ip. It seemed to Rosette to extend a long itanoe. At length they readied another jiirway whicli went up a long wiiy. On Idling the top. Rosette found hersi If in a Ide hull. Soldiers were here. also. On eiicli |e were doors. Above there was a skylij^ht. jng this liiiU the Prefect led the way, the Hers saluting as before, until he readied a [)r at the end. ' Opeiiin;; this, he entered an Ite-ohamber. Roselle followed. woiniin was here, who bowed very low as fcy entered. The Prefect addressed some krds to her, aud as they were in Italian, Isette, of course, did not undfrstiind thfui. It guessed, very naturally, that they referred llierself. Che Prefect then opened a door and dis- used a room with one window and an iirdied piiuj;. The walls were colored gray, the floor I of red tiles, with one or two mats. There I a bed and somesiiniile furniture, lere the Interpreter, who had been ac- ]panying them all along, after couTersiiifr 111 the Prefect, turned to Rosette and said: 'This is your room, and this woman is your pendant." What a sweet little room," said Rosette, looking aruiind with a smile of delight; "and what a pretty, arched ceiling, and wliat a C0.H7 little bed, and uliat a funny iiillt> wiiiduwl Oh, I am ^o very much obliged ! and I know I shall be awfully comfortable. Dear papa would be so delighted if lie only kuew wliere I was." The Interpreter told this to the Prefect. The Prefect turned these words over in his mind, looking hiird at Rosette. Rosette watched him with a heiiiniiig smile, wishing she could tell him personally how kind she thought him. The uniiiippy Prefect found this another un- answerable eonundriim, and gave it up. In a short lime Rosette was alone. First of all she went to the window and looked down. There *vas an Iron grating out- side, but she did not notice this. She could see some houses, then the dome of u great ehurch, and beyond this a broiid plain. The- vli'W seemed to her very pleasant and exten- sive. Then she looked around more closely at her room. Thirewasan iron bedstead with bed- ding, and a chair. A heavy table stood in ono eoiner. It did not seem to her at all like tha cell of a prisoner; it .-eeined rather like the secure retreat of ono who had escaped from an Ogre Castle— like a place of refuge, where she was guarded from all pursuit, and protected from all chaiuje of recapture. They are certainly very respectful, she thonglit. How all those soldiers did bow I There was something nneommonly pleasant in it— to a poor little thing like me, that has been so snulibed, and scolded, and contradicted, and put upon. Oh, why did I ever go and try to be a lady's maid ? This recollection of her past misfortunes drew her attention to that part of her attire which was associated with such bitter memo- ries. The cap and apron still remained. With a quick gesture of impatience she took o£f both. "Tliere." she said, holding them out, one in each hand. " There t Good-bye, Cap and Apron. You don't suit me, aud I don't suit yon, and we shall never be able to agree, and so we had much better part. 1 forgive you, and I promise not to have any hard feel- ings. If I liave to live among strangers, I'd ^"**' THE BABES IN THE WOOD. V riitlier go without you than with you. Good- l)ye." She looked at tbeiia for a moment, niid then rolled them up very tisht into a little bundle, iirouud which she wound' the npron strings, l)indiui{ them in a very complii'iilcd series of knolii. Uiiving dont- Mils ohe luiked nround, debating what to do with it. At 'longth she ilecidt'd, and going to the bed she raised the mattress, and tueked the little bundle under- neutli, and out of sight. " There I " said little Rosette. " Out of sight— out of mind !" CHAPTER XXIV. BEFORE THE AWFUL BAB. Thoughtless Bosie, here you be, Fixed In dark captivity. On the following day the Prefect of the Police visited Rosette, together with the In- terpreter, who informed her that her presence was required in the Hall of the Prefecture, where the Judges of the Court were already in session. This information was received by Rosette with unfeigned pleasure, and an un- mistakable gratiBeation, which ouce more proved too much for the Prefect. " Oil! I am so glad," said she; "and now we can talk it all over, and compare notes, and perhaps we may be able to come to some con- clusion about poor papa. What I want most of all is to find out where he is, so as to write j him a nice, long letter, and beg him to come here." No reply was made to this except in the shape of a question, asking if she was ready. To which Rosette, in a lively way (for she was overflowing with good spirits) replied : " Oh! well you know when one has nothing to put on, one is always ready." So the Prefect led the way, and Rosette fol- lowed, and the Interpreter came next, and then came a half dozen soldiers, armed to the teeth, who had been waiting outside, and who, as the prisoner came forth, followed in her train. On the way Rosette's thoughts were various. First she noticed more strongly than ever the resemblance of the Prefect to a Noah's ark man, which was certainly heigliteued by a rear«view of that Functionary; then she felt troubled at the difficulty of keeping ntep with the soldiers; then she noticed that they were going in a different direction from the one by which she had come; then the thought, wliat a pity it was she had not a better dress; then she wondered wliether they would let Freddie come to see her, and what he would say if he found her in such a place, with so many soldiers keeping guard over her when siie was iu her room, and salnt!'>, -*4[' THE BABES IN THE WOOD. : i *- feoted by this perfect oonfldence shown them, and therefore met Rosetle by a sympathetic omile which appeared involuntarily on their own Rrizzled features. " It is your pluoe of residence in England that we ask after." •' England T Why, we are not living in Eng- land now." "What was your last place of residence there?" •' Well, papa hasn't lived in England for ever so long. I lived at Clieltenham, with my dear unole, who is rector there; and 'Freddie was there, too, studying— only he never studied at all." Part of this was felt tobe irrelevant, and some of the Judges thought that she wns trying to raise new issues. However, the Cliief went on : " What is your father's profession ?" "My papa is a gentleman." " What does he do to occupy his time?" "Nothing— except sometimes he paints a Utile." " Wiiat is he doing at Rome?" " Oh, well, a little of everything. He paints a little, you know, and studies, and collects antiquities. I suppose painting is his chief work. He makes quite a holiby of it." " Is he much at home during the day ?" "Oh, yes." "Is he often away?" "Oh, yes." "Tell me where he goes to?" " To the galleries, you know — he copies pic- tures." " Does he ever go out of town ?" " Oh, yes." "Where?" " To Florence — and sometimes to Naples." " How do you know?" "Oh, well, he almost always takes me with him," " Does he never go away alone?" " Oh, no— not any long distance. He would not leave me, you know." "Have you many friends here?" " A few." "You did not go to them when your father last left you?" "No— and very foolish it was— but it waa not my fault." " Does your father have many visitors?" "Visitors? Oh, yes." "Who?" " Well, generally old friends passing through Rome." "Foreigners?" "O'., no—English people, you know." " Does your fattier stay out much at night?" "Oh, no." "Is he liome early?" " Oil, yes; lie is always in by ten o'clock." " Is lie never out all night?" " Oh, dear, no. He would-n't leave me that way." Tlie questions thus far had been answered by Rosette with the utmost quickness, and with the air of one who liad iiotliing to conceal. The Judges were disappointed in the answers, yet, on the whole, pleased with the prisoner, who showed the greatest frankness. They found themselves also gliding insensibly into a state of sympatliy. This was owing to Ro- sette's way. She had a fashion of pre-suppos- iiig sympathy on their part, of appropriating tlieir sympathy as a matter of course, of tak- ing their fiiendliness for granted. It was not very easy to show the customary judicial severity in sncli cases. What could Riiada- mantlius himself do with a little creature like tills, wlio persisted In putting herself on a friendly and confidential footing, and in re- garding him as her very particular friend. "Your fatlier fled from Rome some time ago?" "Yes. and a very cruel thing it was. He never treated me so before. But tlien, I sup- pose, poor papa couldn't help it, you know; for I believe some one told him that he was going to be arrested. But, really, I think some one has been deceiving him. I think he has been frightened about nothing, and ran away when he might jus., as well have stayed. I m sure he needn't have been afraid of you .'" This little tribute was taken by all the Judges in a very gracious manner. " What did you do when you heard that your father had fled?" "Me? V. ly, I fainted." Rosette spi.ke this with a simple pathos that was vary touching. "I fainted," she said, looking at the Judges THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 69 visltoreP* Eissing through know." uob at night r D o'clock." leave me that n answered by ness, nnd with ig to concea]. [1 ttie nnswers, I) the prisoner, nknesa. They isensibly into a owinR to Ro- of pre-suppos- npproprliiting course, of tak- 'd. It was not unary judicial could Rhada- e creature like g herself on a ng, and in re- ilar friend, me some time ig it was. He ut ttieii, I sup- it, you know; im that he was eally, I think m. I think he hing, and ran 11 have stayed, f raid of you .'" y all the Judges leard that your ilepatboB that nt the Judges ; with her large, dreamy eyes, full of melau- ?choly reoolleolions, nnd speaking in a mourn- ful voice. "It was so very, very sad, and I was all uloue in the world." The Judgi's all looked as though they felt this to be very sad, and some of theiu looked guilty, as thouKli they were in some sort to blame for the woes of little Rosette. " Yes, but what action did you take?" " After I recovered ?" " Yea." "Well, ft letter was brought me from papa, iwho told me that he had to fly, and that Mr. Cary would explain it all and tell mo what to «o." " Mr. Cary? Who is he?" "He's a very nice person," said Rosette, •imply. "Yes, but what countryman? Is he an Eug- iishmnn?" " Well, no— 1 think not." • "What is he?" "Why, I rather think he's nn Irishman, fudging by hin accent." : " Well, what took place then ?" "Well, then, 1 burst— in to— tears— because I telt so sad," said Rosette, in her usual nielan- Uholy way; "for it seemed to me just as if I Was all alone in the world, without one friend to turn to." The Judges again looked with synii)athetic liice?, and all seemed to think that little Ro- iette had certainly had a liard time of it, and bud suffered very many unmerited woes. "Yes, but what did you do? What did this jlr. Cary do or say ?" "Why, he told me that poor papa was in jjp-eat danger from the Police, and that I was lb danger, too, and tl atmy papa wanted me fo hide and keep out it the way of the Police '^and I tldnk my papa was very much mis- taken, and Mr. Cary was, also." V "Why?" . " Why, because papa was so much afraid of ^ou that he ran away from you, when he >|0ught not to have done so. For you are very %ood and very kind, and I'm sure I'm awfully Ikbllged to you— and I only wish dear papa was bere, too." These innocent remarks created a vc per- sptible sensation, which was aooompanied by amiable looks and smiles. The little tribute to their goodness and kindness was very effec- tive, but when Rosette expressed that wish about her pupa, it seemed almost too much. The force of kindness could no farther go. "Why did you hide?" "Because Mr. Cary advised it." " Were there any others?" "Yes; Mr. Smithers. He took me to the place." "Who is Mr. Smithers?" " 1 only saw him once or twice before. He is a friend of Mr. Cury's, and also of the Patter- sons. I think he is the one who thought of making nie become a lady's maid. He's a nice man, but very, very silly, or else he could nev- er have thought of such a thing— really, it was nothing hut utter folly, for you know I am the last persou— the very last person in the world —to pretend to be a servant. In fact, when I found what sort of people they were, I could hardly heli) ordering them all about. No— I might have become anything else, but I could not cease to be a hidy." The force of which remark was felt and con- ceded by all present. " These Pattersons— are they friends of your father?" At this question Rosette's look was per- fect—a mixture of surprise at such an idea, together with sweet resignation. "Oh! really, how very absurd, you know. Why, if you could oidy see them it would l)e enough. They really are not at all fit company for a lady. The old people are fearfully vul- gar, and I never was treated with such shock- ing rudeness, or so contradicted in all my life. Not all, for Miss Kinncar is very nice, but the Pattersons are really too coarse, and Miss Pat- terson is not quite a lady. She lacks repose, a little too demonstrative, you know, and some- what loud, without any real refinement. MisB Patterson was very unkind, and intentionally so— she tried to insult me deliberately— but then, really, you know, when one receives an insult from certain quarters, it ceases to be an insult at all ; and Miss Patterson's insults were never sufficiently delicate to be really keen. They were coarse, and therefore blunt." ".Where is your father now?" At this Roseate stared in unfeigned surprise. .^f f I "Why, that's the very thing I want ao to know, you know. IIt> didn't date Ills letter at all, nnd didn't say wIutc he was going. I do wish you could find out for me. 1 was in hopes that we migiit talk it over together, and find out something or other al)out hlra; and if you could flnil out about hira, I should be very grateful." CHAPTER XXV. THE CllITIOAL MOMENT. Ah! Boaotte! you can't bo merry, ■With this grim judiciary. Rosette's ai)i)eiirai ) Inul certainly con- oilluted the favor o; judges, and yt^t hei- way of talking only St rved to puzzle theui. No one could look at tliat round fa(!o, with its dimpled olieeks, and encounter the full gaze of those large, dreamy eyes, with their won- drous fringe of eye lashes, •without having a kindly feeling, at least, toward its owner. No one could listen to the peculiar intonations of her voice without being sensible of a kind of pleasure even in the sound. Besides, she had a way of putting herself and all the company on the most friendly footing, anttt' first, so simple an- iire honesty, •ss. leanings of also, lurked :' suspiuions, lie friendly )nvioted de- admired her ler way. If nimble as a liypocriticul, 19 a work of )e that could of look, and all of wliom the probli'm , and wliioli- (1 not fail 1(1 lette. imed his vx- the luter- you?" lied?" I which you "Did you conceul anything in your eliam- bers at tlie Pattersons' before coining iiere?" "No." said Kosette, "tliere was notliing to conceal, you know, and so I loiililn't eonocal anytliing. Besides, I was only too glad to get here, and iiway from those very niipliasant people. It would lie very silly ill me to eoneeal anytliing in a place which I never wialied or expeeted to see again." •'Had you any papers belonging to your father ?" " Oh, no— that is, nothing except his last lit- tle note to me, and I've got that in my peeket, jou know." Willi these words slie produced from her pocket a letter, and held it in lier hand. The Judgi'S wirnpered togetlicr. "There's nothing in it," said Rosette. " Per- ||ni)s you'd like to look at it. Only I'd like to get it back again." With tlies(! words she rose, and laiil Iheletter on the Judge's desk, after wliich she resumed her scat. The Judge i)liiced it on one side for future examination with chemicals and miero- ■cope, and for tlie present went on with liis ex- amination. " Have you ever tried to conceal anything llnce you came here?" "Here! Oli, no." " In your chambi-r?'' "Certainly not." "You are sure? " " Of course. I cannot possibly be mistaken, for, you know, as I said before, I had nothing Whatever to conceal, absolutely nothing." "Nothing?" "Of course, not," said Rosette, wonderingat bis persistency. "Think once more." ' " I'm sure I'm thinking as hard as ever I cftn, and I cannot do more than that." The Judge looked at her with deeper gravity. " Beware how you answer this question," he •aid. " There must he no evasion, or the con- (equences will l)e serious." "I beg pardon," said Rosette; "but lam never in tlie habit of saying what I do not mean; and you cannot mean, I am sure, that l^ou doubt my word." 7 It was a tender, respectful, grave rebuke; but It was a rebuke. Was lliis her .siiuierity, or was it her matcliless art? All tlic Judges felt tlie fonie of this. "Very well, then," said the Chief. " We take your word. We are to understand that you eoiieealed nothing in your chamber." " I'm sure I don't ln« nl)ont coiUM-iilinent. This tlioiii^ht eaino, and thon slie looked at it. In tin instunt the whole truth flashe<1 upon her. At that in- stant tiie parcel was unrolled, and there from one of the liands of Rhadnraanthns dangled Rosette's apron, while from the other hung her cap. The face of Rhadamnntluis became a study. For some time he did not understand it. lie looked solemnly first at one and then at tin: other. The rct^t of the jiKlges in equal perjjlex- ity did the same. But the solemn silence was suddenly inter- rupted by a loud |)eal of merry laughter from Rosette. It was a careless, joyous laugh, to which she gave herself up with the perfect abandon of a delighted child. "Oh, liow funny!" she exclaimed. "Oh, how funny! My cap and apron! Oh, how funny! And I bade an eternal adieu to them I Oh, how funny!" The Judge was still puzzled. Rosette began to explain and the Interpreter to translate. She told all about it,— her long troubles as maid, her joy at getting away from the House of Bondage, and her farewell to the emblems of her slavery. Her little narrative was told with a mirth and archness which not even the sol- omu truuslatiou of the Interpreter could oou- oeal. The Judges looked softened. Their brows re- laxed. They smiled. They even laughed ; and thus there was enacted in the Tremendous Tribunal of the Police an unwonted scene, where all these hoary Magistrates ff>und them- selves laughing along with a little girl. This terminated the examination for the present. *' We shall have to detain you here longer," said the Chief, as he dismissed her. " Will you really ?" said Rosette. " Oh that will be so nice, and I am so very much obliged ; and then there won't be any more trouble with Mr. Sinithera. The |)0()r nnin really did till best, you know, and could never havesupposed that those people would behave so ill." CHAPTER XXVI. THE PAPA'S PERPLEXITIES— HE CONCLUDES TO AOJUUB HIH PIUNCIPLES. Shut up in thn prison station, What un awful situation! A NiTMBEn of dooi--ways opened from the lower hall of the Prefecture, and each of these opened into a chamber winch was used as a lock-up. One of them formed the entrance Into a large room with massive walls covered with stucco, and stone-paved floor, and Iron- •rrated winilows. There was a rude table of ponderous constriielion, a heavy bench, an iron bedstead, and a hanl mattress. Here, the wreck of his former self, plunged into the depths of gloom unspeakable, sat the once rosy and buoyant, but now pallid and despair- ing papa. This, then, was the end of a virtuous life — a life of Reform, of Benevolence, of Purity, of Peace, of Patriotism, and of Pill-anthropy! In such a situation, the good papa was the last man in the world to rally. Beyond all that was visible to the eye, there was much more that was manifest to the mind — a world of hor- ror uns|)eakuble — a world of mourning, lamen- tation, and woe. He was in the hands of the Police— the Po- lice of a Continental State! the Police — lioiTi- ble, tremendous thought! At that thou lit, the imagiiKition of the papa was stimulated to action, and called up before him innumerable terrors. For the papa had blended with an eager search after wealth a certain truculent and blatant demagoguism, an all-levelling Radi- calism, which had led him to go upon thn war- path against everything that was outof accord with his own notions, or experience, or inter- ests. He had fought a life-long battle, from be- hind his own desk or counter, with Tyrants and Despots. He loved to hear the sound of his own voice, as he moutlied out phrases glo- rifying the doctrines of Liberty, Fraternity, and Equality, or denouncing the Oppressor, the Oligarch, the pampered Menial, the blood- r 1 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 73 Illy did bis |v« supposed lill." kCLUDBS TO M from the |i<'»i of these s ii8P(l lis a « eutmiioe lis covered ', and iron- fit' talilo of I'fncli, nn Here, the fl Into the the once nd deapiiir- loiis life— a ' Purify, of nntliiopy! »iis (lie last n|)<1 of lior- iig. lamen- !— tlie P(,_ iw^— liorri- : tlioii III, Juhitcd to lunieraljle an eajier I lent and Ug RlKli- the war- Jf accord or inter- from be- Tyrants sound of isea glo- iternity, pressor, 3 blood- etttlntd Tyrant, and tlie bloated Aristocrat. Tlio good papa loved to gloilfy the People; yet, after all, he did not seem to care paitlou- larly about the every-day people witli a small •*p," whd came al)out him; for he was op- posed, "on principle," to tlie poor aud the needy, and always managed to "get his money's worlli " out of everybody with whom he cnme in contact. Tiie papa's ideas of foreign countries were essentially those of the "average Briton." lie regarded all lands outside of his own Island as crushed undi-r tlie heel of Despotism. All but h's own countrymen were enslaved,— but as for them— Britons never, never could beslaves! TohimalltheStatesontheContinent of Europe were so many Slave States,— all the European Governments Tyrants who ruled by force and torture, by dungeon and rack, by scourge and guillotine. Tlie papa's favorite reading had consisted in hot spiced novels about cruel nobles, bloody barons, feudal castles, Kinaldo Rinaldlni, Abellino the Bravo of Venice, and other works of a similar charactei-. Prom these he had gathered his impressions about continental governments. What he liad read aboui Feudal Castles and tlieir dungeons ho re- ferred to tlie society of the present day. To blm every house on tlie Continent was lioney- combed with dungeons and secret passages. Every government ruled by means of spies and executioners. To him every city on the Conti- nent was a facsimile of the Venice of which he had read, and had its " Council of Ten, its Tor- tures, its Bravoes, its Sbirri, Us Mouehards, its Executioners, its Secret Tribunals, and Its Aw- ful Dungeons." To him every continental gov- ernment still ruled as in the past by means of torment, using freely torture of alldescriptions, and employing the rack, the boot, the wheel, and the ordeal by Ore, as in the middle ages. Since his entrance here his mind had called up all these things, and his meditations had been directed to his own probable fate. Around him he saw the walls of a dungeon! This was but the beginning of sorrows. Soon he would be plunged into a deeper and a darker one. Soon he would be called upon to undergo all those torments of which he had so often read. There would be the Rack I How could his sonsitive frame sustaiu the first turn of the wheel. Or perhaps tiicy would apply the Iron Boot!— or aTlinmbSerewI Would theyswlng him up by the lliunil)s In ll.iy liini alive, or tear him in pieces with wlhl horses, or saw him asunder, or break him on the Wheel, or bury him alive! 'Jpon which of these to lct< his imagination rest he could not decide, but beyond all these, other thoughts romainei], beyond mIiIcIi ex- tended still others. His fancy portrayed his own doom. It was to be by Fire! lie had read all about It. In this way the Continental Governments nsed to punish convicted orlm- inals. Burning at the stake had been a favor- ite mode of e;:ecution for ages, and, of course, still must be so, as far a» tlu> papa knew. This, to him, had always seemed tlie most terrillo of punishments, and it was the one whicli now most disturbed him. "I can't stand it," cried the piipn, in tremb- ling tones, "it is too much! I'll abjure my principles! I'll give up the doctrines of Liberty! I'll bo a Despot aud a Tyrant my- self!" Such a resolution as this may seem absurd to those who coolly read about it, l)ut to the papa himself it seemed of great weight, and upon his mind it had a soothing influence. How to be a Despot he did not exactly know, but to be one lie was fully resolved. Tlie only difficulty was about communicating Ids hitention to the government. How could he do this? Ho could not Bjieak Italian. He could not wait for the lutcrpi'eter. He was eager to put bis resolve into instant execution. But how? At length he thouglit it would be a good plan to make use of all the foreign words he knew, in the hope that by means of somn of these he might establish a communication with the outside world. These scraps of foreign languages were such as everybody knows, and the good papa could easily recal. So the papa put himself at the door and sur- veyed the outside world tlirough the keyhole until some one passed. Then he shouted out: " 3foosoo / Moosoo ! Parley voooooo .'" No notice was taken of tills. Several people passed, aud the papa shouted several times, but, nlas! in vain. They seemed to have something of their own to attend to. The moved up and down very quickly and hastily 74 TUE BABES IN THE WOOD. — soldicra, and guii-tlariucR talking in liurriod tones. Tliu piipii was not iu-urd. "Oh, yen! Oh,yc8l Oh, yes I" oriiMl tbo pnpn. "E plurlhu8unum! Anno Domini! Multuin in parvo ! Ne plus uUraP' In vain. "Mimna Chartdl" criod tlip papa. No use. "Hahcaa Corjjus/" In Tuin. "Victoria Del Orattn Itcrjlna!" oried the papa, with unotlitT clTdi't, yelling at tlio top of bis voice the faiiiillur inscription of Englisii coins. But lil« efforts weri- in vain. Ho turned iiwny, yet lie was not quite ao des- pairing as J)efori'. A liopo was i)eforo liiin. Tlie die wns cui't. lie liad made up iiis mind. He would give up tins cause of Liberty, and embrace tiie doctrines of Despotism. He al- ready tried to loolf upon liiTnself as a Bloated Aristocrat, and was wondering wlint tUaTlmcs would say editorially wben its correspondent would send a startling aeeount of tlie surren- der by Wm. Patterson, Esquire, of the cause of tbe People. "Well," said be, with an air of deep convic- tion, "tbese European Despots are all line men. The King of France is a fln(! man. The Czar of Russia, lilcewise— and the Emperor of Austria, is all that lie should be— and so, also," added the papa, thouglitfuliy, "so also is the King of Prussia!" And ibis increased bis iiope. papa used to amuse blniBelf with walcliing her, wiiile lie was reading or painting, ubeu she would sit in some eusy position smiling to ber* self. " What are you stniiing ut, littlo Rosette?" " Oil, I'm luvviiig such bappy tiiougiits." So now Rosette was baving sucli linppj thoughts. While tlie papa was plunged in u gulf of daric despair she was living in tin upper and a better world. How nice tbis is— glietbouglit toherseir— and I wonder what maiies tiiem all so very kind to me? I never linew liefore tiiat tlie Police were such nice, Icind, good peo))le. After t his I shall always like theiu. But T must ask them to let Freddie know where I am, so that he can come here to see me — I really must see bim. Then siie iiegan to think tliat it would be much nicer if siie could only have some other dresses. First, because she wos so tired of this one; secondly, because it was associated with unpleasant recoiled ions; and thirdly, heeause CH/PTER XXVII.' A NEW EXCITEMENT- AFFRIGHT. What a riot has arisen, * In the courtyard of the Prison! Wbele the papa was thus undergoing snub trials of mind on the ground floor, little Rosette was in tbe room above. Some people ' are unhappy when they bave nothing to do, but little Rosette was not one of tliat sort. She enjoyed doing nothing at all, and could sit for hours motionless enjoying her own fancies. It was a fashion of little Rosette to construct a fancy world around ber and live in it. Her [she did not appeal' in lier former person. ' I've Iiid good-liye to my cap and apron, said she to herself, but wb.n's the use, pray, when I've got this unpleasant dress? It makes one look like a servant. I do wish fcfmld get them tosendformy trunk. Why did I not ask those nice old judfies? What a (igure I must liave been looking like this. (), I positively and leally must get rid of tliis, and look like a lady; and l)esides, this dress is so worn tiiat it liegins to look quite untidy. Little Rosette's tlioughts now centred alto- gether on the sul)ject of dress. She decided to ask the |)eople here to send to the lodgings of her papa, where all lier things were, and bave tlieni all brought. Atflrst she thouglitof only having one trunk, but at length concluded that they might as well bring everything while they were about it. And tlien, she added, I'll dress myself, and they shall see that I'm not a servant, and then I'll get them to invite Fred- die here,— or I'll invite bim and they shall take bim my note. She iiad been seated on the bed all tbis time, but now there arose certain noises in the court- yard which attractedher attention. She arose and went to tbe window, where she saw^enough to occupy her thoughts tor some time. The courtyard was thronged with people. 1 TUE BAB EH AV THE WOOD. 75 n(("liiti;:lnir, >K. nlicu she iling to her* RoHOtto?" Miphtn." siicli linppy >luiigo(] in u '•• im upper »y kind to PollciMvore rtlii.slsliall tliciii to let in ciiii eome iu. It would be some other lii'd of (his oiiitcd with lly, Ix'fmj.sf CfSOtl. !iI)ron, said pray, wht-n irmltes one 111 set (liem ')< lisle (hose must have lively and likeiilady; It it hegius itred alto- decided to odgiiigsof and have ht of only concluded ling while iddi-d, I'll I'm not a i to Fred - shall take ihis time, he court- She arose v^enough people. There wcro noldlcrs and gen-darnifx; theif wer« alKo uomon and clilldren. Thci boMIith were all arincil, and were drawn up under the walls; the women and children all looked agi- |tati)d, and seemed to be wandering about in jralhor an alnilens fasliion; the gen-darnien Iwero gathering In 111 Me pronps, looking some- Iwhat nervous and uneasy; oflleers wuie mov- ing about, soinellnies talking to one another, [at other times hurrying up and down, and In [and out. Everywhere tlierf was theappoar- [nnee ot excitement and trepidation. Now, I do wonder what In the world can She the u)atter, thought Rosette. The window could bo opened— she opened It, [and thus wna able to see better, as well as hoar. [No sooner had she swung It back, tlian she |was startled at the sounds that arose. Beneuth there were loud calls; hasty words; quick, sharp commands; cries of children; wild ex- clamations; while from the distance there came a certain indistinct and Indefinable Bound, like a vast, deep murmur, intermlnglud Willi wild yoUs, songs, shouts, and cheers. Something was going on. That was very evident, liut what could it be? It was not very easy for Rosett(! to guess. She thouglit that, perhaps. It was some festival of the cimrch, and tliat scnno great procession was going to or from St. Peter's. Y(!t, If so, why Should these women and children, and, above all, these soldiers look so torrifled! No, it could not bo a procession. Suddenly the report of a rifle sounded from afar; then others followed in qidck succession. Then there rang reports from some place close by, and then followed the thunder of cannon. At this, the excitement below Increased. Part of the soldiers were hurriedly marched away through a door on the left of the courtyard, while the others waited, looking somewhat disordered. All around the agitation grew deeper. The reports of rifles and cannon still rang out with undiminished violence, and every report seemed to deepen the agitation of those beneath. The soldiers seemed to lose their steadiness; they were evidently, for some reason or other, becoming demoralized ; there was panic on every face. Now, I do wonder if it can really bo only a sham fight, or a review, or something of that sort, thong''' iiosette. I'm really beginning to feel qulie Interested. I hope It \* always aa idee as this. Now, If one could only see some one to ask about It— liut, then, 1 don't speak Italian, no I'll have to guess at It. Time passed, and Rosette watched. TIlAn there came from afar the thunderous boom of a dee|)-tolled bell, which rang in long, solemn reverberations all through the air. The nols*- of musketry and cannon also still conliuucd, and the mighty murmur that underlay every other sound. Then the miirnun' deepened, and grew near- er; nearer drew the shouts, and calls, and songs, and clieers; the nols(! as of an Innumer- able multitude advancing irresistibly; twarer cauK* the musketry, and the slirlll flfe forced ils notes on t lie ear, and the war-drum throbbed furiously, till it seemed as though tlie mighty multitude, whose approaiOi was thus heralded, had nil come up to beat and thunder at the Prefecture gates. Amid it all the deep tolling of the bell never ceased. I know that liell, at any rate, thought Ro- sette. It's the big bell of the Capitol. But her thoughts were rudely interrupted. In the courtyard below arose wild outcries and walls as if all was lost. Tlie gen-darmes fled. The women and children thronged tl i few doorways as thougli seeking for refujfo Inside. Thesoldlors in an instant melted awi^y and mingled witli the crowd of fugitives. All was terror and lamentation and dcsjjalr. Then came theiliunder of cannon and the crash as of falling beams and timbers. Thett cheers and wild yells. And then, through the cliief gate, there poured into the courtyard tt wild, excited, frenzied throng — multitudes cf men were there in red shirts, who looked llkt brigands — with them were multitudes more in cilizen's dress; women were there, boys were there, and old men and young girls. It was a disordered, excited mob; and thus shouting and singing they burst through the gates, and kept pouring along till they filled the court- yard. Then some shouted and some leaped for joy, while others embraced and kissed, and alto- gether the noise and uproar was deafening. The tumult of musketry and cannon was over, v^ ^I ^ 76 THE nALEIS IN THE WOOD. the deep bell of the Capitol tolleil no more, mid the people gavetljemselves up to joy. Then ii iniiii stood upou ii stone pode^stal. and in a loud, masterful voice, harangued the crowd. And the multitude listened reapeet- fiilly, and wlien he hud ended they applauded vociferously. Rosette did not know what to make of it all. At flrst, when the gates were blown in, and the crowd poured into the courtyard, she hud said to herself: "I'm almost afraid that it this sort of tliinp; goes on any longer, I'll begin to be afraid;" but afterwards, as the musketry ceased, and the crowd bejian to embrace, and kiss, and dance, Rosette's feeii..gs clianged. "How funny— howawfully funny! " she said "That little bald-headed man looks like a monkey." Then she saw something so ridi(;u- lous that she had to laugh— and other ridicu- lous things excited otlier laughs. " It's funnier than the Carnival," she said; "and I wonder if it mightn't be a kind of Car- nival, perliaps." Viva la RcpuhUca ! Viva la Liberia! Liberia! Equallta! Fratcrnita! Viva la Conslltuzionc ! Such were the cries that arose from the crowd below, but Rosette did not understand Italian, and, therefore, was not th<' wiser. She had come to regard the humorous aspect of the affair, and that alone. The idea of the Car- nival was uppermost in her mind. She had beard quite as much noise, and had seen quite as much confusion, and certainly not more fun than appeared here, at an ordinary Carnival season, and witli this in her mind, it is not sur- prising that Rosette came to the conclusion that this, also, was something of the same sort. " Yes," she said, " it's some kind of a new Carnival "-"thout masks." At length tliere were noises inside the t)uild- ing which came nearer and nearer. Outside, also. Rosette saw that carriages were coming in, and that people were coming out and get- ting into them, aftei wliich they were driven away. These people certainly, were different turn the others. The crowd regarded them all with iniense interest and profound silence. broken only by low murmurs from time to time. "What very funny looking people," said Ro- sette tolicr.self. "What are they all going into theeurriages for? And that funny looking old man in black!" Thus it was that Rosette felt and thought in her ignorance. Here she liad b(^en, and here she was still, in (he midst of scenes tremendous —and yet singularly indifTerent. CHAPTER XXVIII. THE DAUGIITEU OF QENEnAL GEOKGE WASII- IN'OTON ! Spo lioRot.o in triumph como, Marching through the streets of Rome I The opening of the door aroused Rosette, and drewlier away from the window. Two men stood there. They wore red shirts and felt liats, iMit these hats they instantly removed as they saw the i)risoner. It was quite evident that these two men were utterly astounded. Here was a piisoner of a very different kind from those whom they had thus far seen, and for a moment they stood still and looked at her in wonder. She stood by the window where she had tinned round. There was the remnant of her last smile still lingering about her mouth and dimpled cheeks; and in those eyes that rested with such wondrous beauty on them there was indeed lething like curiosity in theirsolemn depths, .. ..„ nothing like the trace of a tear. A thing of beauty! A joy forever! That was what she seemed. If they had known Englisl- they might have quoted Dlbdiv. at lier, and called her— a sweet littte cherub tnat lived up aloft. As it was, they ha noticed with surprise, as she went along, that all the soldiers and geii-darines were gone, that all the doors were open, and tliat all whom she met had a curious way of staring at her. Besides, they were all in red sliirts, and armed. But this she considered as part of the Carnival. At length they reached the lower door open- ing into the courtyard. Here tliere was a car- riage drawn up, and a sign was made for her to get into it. She did to nL once, and seat- ing herself, threw a glance around. Her appearance produced an indescribable effect, and the first sweep of her glance awed the crowd with death-like stillness. Rosette found herself the (centre of all observation. Every face was turned toward her, every cj'c was fixed upon lie. . The reason was u>' •, wu to lier. She felt abashed beyond mca. . , and for a moment quite overcome. It was too se- vere an ordeal for one who had always lived so quietly. But one or two timid looks which she stole served lo re-assure lier, for they showed that of all tiiose fa.. ^s turned toward her there v4 78 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. Wits not one ■whicli was not full, either of re- spectful udinirution, ii reveientinl sympathy, or wondering pity,— oi' rathe/ of all thesi; to- gether. Tliin theio arose iniirinurs,— in soft Italian syllables, — murmurs of sympathy, of pity, of admiration. The Italiiin was un- known, but the tone WMsinlcliij^ilile, for Nature spoke in that. And Rosette felt that she was among friends— warm friends— loving friends —and in Iliis sweet thouglit her own gentle heart found peace. It's those nice, kind Polieemeu, she thought. All these people seem to know all about me, and feel sorry for :ne because my papa has gone and left me. But it is very trying to have 80 many eyes suddenly fixed on one, — especial- ly wlien I am dressed like a servant. If lofdy had been dressed like a lady, it would not have been so bad. Very different were thefeelings of the crowd around from that amiable resignation whicli Rosette liad gained. Iler first aiipeaiance had been like a thunderbolt. If some living skele- ton, scai'red by murks of scourging, with all his bones broken by toi'ture, had been carried out, the sensation would hav(( been far less. For that tliej- Were i)repared. For .nat they were waiting (and were just beginning to feel savage at finding that no living skeletons wei-e on hand). But for this tliey certainly weronot prepared. For this — tliis vision of loveliiu'ss, with tli(! g"ace of a lady, tlie dress of a maid, the face of a child, tlie lieauty of a siren, the timid sliiinking of a nun, and fifteen or twen- ty other things wliich ought to suggest them- selves to the reader's imagination. She was re-assured, calm, even happy, yet there was also a natural shyness incvilablo to one like her in such a position, whicli made her keep her eyes fixed on the bottom of tlie carriage, or tlie opposite seat, and onlj' at oc- casional intervals did she ventni'e 1o steal a glance at the crowd. Now Rosette's eyes were such as are seldom K'en in tliis vide of tears, but even when tliey wei'c lowered, and only the faint gleam of tlioae glorious orbs could be seen through the long, dai'k, fringing ej-elasli- es, the cfFi'ct of liei- strange beautj' was hardly lesseneil. For nuirk you, there was the sug- gestion of infinite possibilities of eye, in the first place; and thi-n there was the actual reality of the face itself with a new expression conveyed by those diooping eyelids and vailed eyes— an expression of sweet modesty, of tender innocence, of perfect purity, and of dim, mysterious sorrow. Now when such a one ajipeared as one of the captives of the Po- lice, snatched from its dungeons by the upris- ing people, wliat words are adequate to de- sci'ibe the effect produced upon an excited crowd ? Tlie first murmur (hat arose was—" Who is it? Wlioisit? Wlio can she be?" Then followed innumerable conjectures. Then every sound was hiisheil in universal pity and admiration. Then an aspiringdemagogue arose and began a liiiiungue to iiiOamc tlie minds of the people against the tyiants who had imprisoned this lovely unknown; and to gain :iotoriet3' for himself. Rosette looked a little frightened, liowever, and the great crowd hissed him into silence. Then came another movement. Roselto was the last prisoner found. All the rest had gone. The drivei" was about to whip up the hoi'ses when a band of voung men came ' .-ward. They piocreded to unharness the horses. They ordered the driver down. They took the car- riage pole, and some found ropes which they fastened to it, and theie was ti gi'eat insh of volunteers eager to pull the carriage of Ro- sette, or even to do so !iinch as toucli the ropes attached to it Failing in this they fojiued themselves into a procession, some going in front, other» following behind. At this Rosette was very much troubled in- deed. From notoriety oi' imblicity of any sort she instinetively shrunk back, and, for a lime her feelings were decidedly ])ainfu1. Yet, gradually, her bnoj-ant spirits rallied, and sIk! Iicgan to think that it eoiild not be so liad, after all, since tiny all had very kindly feel- ings towards her. That was most evident. It really is very unpleasant indeed— Ihouglit Rosette— but it must be all meant for the best, and so I must try to put up with It. After all, it's not as bad as being scolded by Mrs. Patterson. It must be those dear old Judges— or else the Police— they mean well, only they don't liave a veiy nice way of show- ing it. I suppose this is one o( those queer ■1 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 79 w expressiou Is and viiilt'd liKxh'sly, of rity, and of ivlieii siic'li a es of the Po- )y Ihe upris- liiiite to de- I an excited ns— " Who 13 jectures. in universal seand began f I lie people risoni'd this otoricty for frifilitened, ed liini into Rojsetto was t'st liad frone. p tlie liorses me ' .-ward. loises. Tliey ook llie car- wliicli they leat rush of r'ia^ie of Ro- ich the I'opes Ihey foinjed me going in troubled in- eity of any If, and, for a dly ])!iinfn1. s rallied, and lot lie so l)ad, kindly feel- evident, nt indeed — nil meant for It up w ith it. g seolded by ISO dear old ■ mean well, ivay of shoAv- ', tluise queer Ituiiiiu fasliions that dear papa used to talk of —only I do wish tliey had left the horses iu. It is really shocking to be pulled by men. The Police must liave told them to do so. I'm sure I think it's very silly, and I don't believe" that English Police would ever net so. But then, this is Rome, and as papa used to say, nhen one is in Rome, one must do as Rome does. With such thouglits as these, little Rosette tried to reconcile herself to her fate, and in this v.-ay she succeeded in regaining somo de- gree of calm and self-possession. It was in this way that Rosette left the prison of the Prefecture. Hundreds of young men pulledhercar. The.>'treets were thronged. Thousands and tens of thousands filled them. Every liuraau being iu Rome was out. Rosette had never seen such a crowd in all her life. Over the bridge they passed, on into tlie street beyond. It was a narrow street, irregu- lar, leading to the Corso, which it entered near the Rotundo. It was packed with .human beings. Already other carriages had passed conveying those who had been freed from I lie | Police, and these had excited various emo- tions; but it was reserved for this crowd, as for that in the courtyard, to experience (he most profound sensation at the siglit of little Rosette. They found something so touching in the sight of litth^ Rosette alone in her car, that her approach created instantaneous and universal stillness. It seemed inexpressibly piteous to nssoeiate one like her witli the popular belief in the severities of tlio Police. It was an emo- tional crowd. It was an ininginalive crowd. Many were aflFeoted to tears. Some sobbed aloud. Most, liowever, looked at her in deej) silence, and with faces of sad, respectful sym- pathy. It was a strange procession. Hundreds of young men liaullng a carriage in which was. one solitary young girl of wonderful beauty, moving along in silence among silent mulii- tudcs, such was a sight not often seen. Tlie young girl !\lso— with her benuty— with the flush of excitement on her dimpled cheeks, with her downcast eyes, and her timid, shrink- ing modesty, was one who could not be easily forgotten, and so, after she had passed, the sileuoe was succeeded by low murmured ques- tions, eacli one asking his neighbor— Who is it? •Who is it? Who can she be? To this many eonjeclural answers were given, to the effect that she was A Spanish Countess. An American Princess. The Daughter of the Lord Mayor of London. A Gipsy. A Jewess. A Representative of Liberia. A ditto of La Republica. A ditto of Roma. A French Actress. The daughter of the President of the United States of America. Whatever she iiiight be, however, one thing was manifest to all, which was that she was a victim to the holy cause of constitutional lib- erty, Italian Unification, Political Reform, Re- publicanism, Democracy, Vote by Ballot, Common Schools, Graded Schools, Free Thought, Free Speech, Free Press, Elective Ju- diciary, Universal Suffrage, Professional Poli- ticians, Wire Pulling, Log Rolling, Caucus Nominations, Fat Contracts, and many other things which would naturally come in with the new regime. A martyr, and such a martyr! So sweet a victim! O, innocenza! O, divina siinpHcita! O, vclezza angelica! So they went on. And as thi'y went on, the crowd grew denser and denser at every step, and at every step more fervid, more zealous, more ardent, more enthusiastic. From afai' there had been borne to Iheiii the news of the general jail delivery; most of the captives liad already been sent along, and liad been received with loud shouts of welcome. Thus far, liowever, the captiveb had not been a success, — not sufficiently har- rowing. There was a demand for living skele- tons, and the crowd felt disappointed and hurt when it was not supplied. But the approach of Rosette drove aw.-^y eveiy feeling of disappointment, and filled eveiy one with wonder and curiosity. It was here as in the courtyard— there were pity and sympalliy, and all voices were liushed at once, out of the depth of the reverence and the I 80 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. commiseration wliioli alic iiispireil. The roughs, wiio belong lo every ei'owd, and wlio, on common ocoasions, migiit liavo made themselves unplensantly c'onspie\ious, here were awed into silence l)y the silence around them. But the silence only intensified the excite- ment. Tliere was a stiuggle to pet near the carriage — to take the pole — to touch ttie ropes. A generous emulation tired llie breast of young Italy, and the emulation brought on ii Struggle, wliiuli was curried on with much spirit. The news of tier coming went like wild fire before her. It nin on. The crowd far ahead stood on tiie tip-toe of expectation. Avast sea of heads arose, as far as the eye tiould reach. Tlie tumult (icased. Silence fell over all. Myriads awaited her approacli in dumb expectancy. Audit was: Ilush! 'Tis she! She comes! The daughter of General Washington, kid- napped by the Police, and now delivei-ed fiom a dungeon by tlie Rouuin People! Hush! And the excitement grew broader and deep- er and in tenser. And the young men struggled and contend- ed more ardently for the ropes. And the crowd opened as the carriage passed, and closed in behind. And on they led lier — on, dowT> past the Ro- tundo— til rough tlie Corso, up to the Campe- doglio. "Through the bellowing Forum, And round the .suppliants' grove, Up to the everlasting gates Of CapltoliauJovo!" There — a tremendous scene. All Rome had followed her, gathei'ing around lu-r. An ora- tor mounted Marcus .\ureiius, and harangm-d. He " deified " Rosette. The crowd wept. Fierce excitement. Then tlie young men wished to crown Rosette as the genius of Italy. But olijections were mad(> on the groutid of her evident timidity. So pity and considera- tion conquered enthusiasm, and Rosette was spared. Little Rosette had been quite calm. She bad come to tlio conclusion tluit it was Carnival; tbat these young men were amusing them- selves, n»»d did not mean any harm. She had no Idea that she was the centre of this scene, and the fact that she was stared at by all around affected her at best no more tlian one is affected by receiving the stares of every passer-by in the street of a town. CHAPTER XXIX. THE SHADOW OF AN IMPENDING DOOM. Poor papa! in vain you strive 1 Let yourself be burnt alive! Let us now return to tlm papa. Fi'otn the windows of bis room nothing could be seen, so that he w;is dependent for information upon the sense of hearing only. He had desisted for a time from bis outcries, when tlie grailually Increasing tumult roused him once more to iiction. The tumult wns vast, varied, and all-pervad- iug. It souniled much louder on this lower floor than it did to Rosette on licr upper perch, and to the old lUiUi it was more menacing. All tliat Rosette had seen he heard; all the panic, all tlie rushing to and fro, the agitation of sol- (liei-s, the cries of women and children, tlie trepidation of fugitives. lie did not know what to think of it. He feared tliat there might be danger to himself in all this. It might be the preparation for Ids doom. They might have tried and condemned liim in his absence. They might now be picparing for ills publlu execution— by Fire! TIk^ thought filled him with liori'or. He re- solved to fight to the last against bis unmerited doom. Thci'e was no time, to lose. The noise was Incriasing. He must try again to com- municate with the world. Back, therefore, went the papa to tli4> door. He put his mouth to tlie keyhole and once more began lo shout: " 3f 00 J.00 .' monsnn! Annn Domini! Hie Jdcct! InMcmnrlnm! Mr Abjure— me Abjure— mc Abjure! Mague. The papa thought it was all deieption on rheir part to Induce him to go quietly. ^*Vivat Rcglna!" he said, in a feeble voice, **t'ah, mchiheer!" tlie men shook their heads. Being in a hurry, they couldn't wait any longer, but drew i him out with gentle force, while in the papa's soul the light of life seemed to die out utterly. They drew him along. They reached a door- way. The papa could see outside — a vast crowd, seething, swaying, shouting. Every eye was turned toward him. Well he knew what that meant. He thought those fierce, foreign faces were all malignant — that thoso innumerable eyes all gleamed with hate, tliat every one there was a wild beast thirsting for Ills blood. He drew back, trembling. But the men pushed him on to others outside, who took him to a carriage, which was drawn up close by, and put hiin in. Two or three others were there. A low murmur ran through the crowd. To the papa it seemed like a clamor for his blood. A shudder ran through him. He could not die thus idly. He i-oso to his feet and stretched out lii.s hands eagerly. Oh tcmjwra ! O mores ! he shouted. Vlvat Regina—A has Magna Charta and Habeas Cor- pus I Sic semper tyrann Is! The crowd listened attentively, and then a murmur of resi)ectful sj'iupathy ran through all. "The poor man! The unfortunate one!" they cried. " He is mad 1" " Is theie liany body 'ere," cried tlie papa in desperation, "that speaks English? Oh 'ear me! Save me! Save met They're going to burn me alive!'' But now another rescued prisoner was put in tlie carriage and the papa was driven away. He sat staring eagerly uiion the crowd to see if ho could find any familiar face. He also gave relief to his soul by crying out at inter- vals such simple formulas as those already re- ported. Before the carriage had gone far two or three men sprang forward and stopped it. Then they embraced with joy two of the papa's companions. The same thing liappeiieil more than once. There wero three others in the carriage who looked pale and seedy, and the excitement of the present occasion made tliem agitated and tremulous. In these eager greetings the papa saw only eternal farewells; in the tears of joy he saw only tears of despair. He and they were all Involved in one common doom! 82 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. And now on through the long street went the papn, hia eyea scanning every face despiiir- ingly, but of nil that he saw not one appeared familiar. The bearded and sallow Italian faces were not only strange, but apparently hostile. To liim they were the faces of enemiea, eager lor his l)lood. and most horrible of all were the tneii in red shirts. Tiiese were the dread min- ions of a foreign Tyrant, whose red uniforms were the fitting emblems of tlioae flames wliich tliey loved to kindle around helpless viotims. He felt tliat while these men were around liim any appeal for help must be useless, since even if any merciful or pitiful soul might be there, be would be afraid of showing his compassion, for fear of bein^ involved in a similar fate. Tet out of Ills despair he still kept up his cry : O temporal mores! Moosoo! Mnosoo! Parley vool Habeas Corpus I VivatRcglna! But the crowd understood nottiing, and all the time the poor papa felt more and more that he was a lost man. And now let us take our stand here for a -moment, my brethren, and compare the mind •of the papa with that of Rosette, from the 'data already given. Mark the peace, the hap- ipiness, yea, tlie joy, of the latter; and then the horror, the dismay, yea, the despair, of the former. And the moral of this is, as we make our beds, so do we lie on them ; and again, we Are as we think; and again, we all make oui ■own worlds; and yet again, as the poet sayeth — "The mind is its own place, and in itself Can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven." Together with forty or llfty more, which the reader may search after in the appendix. CHAPTER XXX. THB HEADQUARTERS OF THE INSUROENTS — THE MEN IN RED. Lo! the poor papa hath fled From the awful men in Red I So the papa wns borne along in his despair, and not a friendly face appeared. All around there spread a sea of hostile faces, where he was all alone, with none to whom ho could make known his terrible position. All his ories, his looks of woe, his supplicatory ges tures, had been useless, and worse than useless. At lengdi the carriage stopped. All got down. Tbe papa desoeodect last of all. Scarce could his trembling limbs sustain him. With ghastly face, and eyes full of fearful anticipa- tion, ho looked all around, to see what new horror might now be presented before him. It was a stately palace, witli a broad piazza in front, filled with human beings. Before liim arose a lordly gateway, through which he could see a spacious courtyard, where there was also a vast assemblage. All around were men in red shirts, who seemed here, as elsewhere, to have a most con- spicuous and prominent place. The sight of these red men only confirmed his fears. They seemed busy, too— ah! horribly busy. It seeuied to the papa that they were more busy in the spacious courtyard than anywhere else, and that they were busy about some great preparations. Preparations! For what? A cold shudder passed through him at this question. For what? For one thing only— for the Public Execu- tion by Fire!!! Here, no doubt, they were far advanced in their work. Here was to be the scene of that sutTering from which he shrank back. Still, with a horrible fascina- tion, he found his giize enchained there, and he cast his eyes eagerly about, taking in the whole with one swift glance. That first glance gave him some relief. He saw that there were no stakes as yet planted in the ground ; no staging was erected there; nor were there any piles of faggots visible; nor was there anything which looked like the seat of the Prefect of the Police or High Sheriff. There seemed a respite, and tlie papa drew a breath of relief, though he felt that this re- spite could not be for long. They were then ushered into tlie Palace, and entered the vestibule. This was most magnifi- cent. There was a pavement of polished mar- bles, walls of marble, and a marble stairway, which led up to a splendid gallery, and thence went on into the upper story. Up this stairway they all passed, and at length reached the top. Here, on one side, there was a magnificent gallery, while on the other extended a long suite of apartments. Into these last the prisoners were oonduotedi THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 88 Passing oil from oue to iiiiotlier they caine Ion third, where a table was standing, upon which there was spread a sumptuous repast. Here they were invited to eat, and though the papa did not understand the language, he found tio diffloulty iu understanding the ges- tures. The other prisoners sat down and began to eat. The papa also sat down, but ate not. To eat was impossible. The thing seemed ab- horrent. It seemed indeed not kind, but cruel— even the refinement of cruelty. It was like fattening the ox before slaughter— or like the criminal's last breakfast before execution. He could not bear the sight. But a man iu red was very urgent, and at bis pressing solicitatiou the papa consented to try a glass of wine. Tills man in red seemed at first to the papa to be very painfully atten- tive, and every act and word served to set the unhappy man into a fresh panic; but aftet a time other arrivals took place, until at length the attention of the man in red was diverted ; the table was fully occupied and the papa was less molested. All were now occupied with the repast. Laughter and shouts and gaiety prevailed. There seemed lo be nothing but fun and mer- riment. On tLe part of the Red Men this seemed to the papa to be nothing else than cold blooded cruelty, while on the part of the wretched prisoners it seemed like a callous in- difference to the future which was almost worse. Firmness, fortitude, heroic endur- ance—all these were demanded on the part of those over whom rested the appalling shadow of a death by Fire, but not this ill-timed mirth, this reckless and wretched levity. To the mind of the papa occurred the worda of that mad song : Sae rantinglf, sae rantlngly, Sae dantlngly gaed he; He sang a lilt, and danced it round About the gallows-tree. And again the words of a rival song iu the sis- ter dialect, which was of a kindred spirit, an«l breathed the same distressing frivolty : The night afore Larry was stretched. The boys they all paid him a visit. Such mud and reckless merriment was dis- tressing and disgusting to the papa. He could not bear it. He could not rouse himself for even a moment. He could only watch with despairing eye the company around in the feeble hope that after all, even at the eleventh hour, some one might appear to whom be could make known his woes. At length they all rose from their seats. Many of the prisoners left the room. The jiapa could not quite make out whether they went away of their own accord or were taken out by the Red Men. It seemed to him that they were being conveyed away to their separate dungeons. Yet at the same time there seemed to be a decided relaxation of vigilance on the part of the guards, and the thought occurred to him that if he could only getaway from the immediate proximity of tiie chamber he might succeed in effecting his escape. Thus a new hope arose— the hope of flight, of escape, of liberty. At once new strength came commensurate with the hope and with the needs of the hour. For if he would escape he would have to be strong, aye— and active too, tk\d vigilant, and cunning, and wary And now he watched his chance. Very slowly, and cautiously, and with the most indifferent air that he could assume, he worked himself toward the door which led to the room lying beyond. No one stopped him. No one seemed to regard him. He peered into the room. No one was there. He entered it. No one interfered. Here he paused and waited. The walls were hung with pictures. Upon these he pretended to look, keeping, however, his eyes intently observant all around, to see if he was watched at all, or in any way. As far as he could see be was not watched. This suggested another thought. It seemed to him now that the whole house was so close- ly watched and so securely guarded that the prisoners were allowed to move about with perfect freedom. If this were so, then the hope of final escape was faint indeed. Still, though the hope might be faint, it was certain- ly better to make an effort than to remain helpless among the men in red. Slowly and cautiously, therefore, the papa moved into the next room. It was empty. Into the next. Empty too. k 84 THE BABEa IN THE WOOD. IIo now moved oinvui'd moro quickly, unci ■con ri'iiclu'd llio next. No ono followed. And now bo went ou nud ou, into room after room. No ono followed. Ho was iiu()b8erve'■,' 4^- IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) k{0 > Vj 1.0 I.I ** IIIM ilM '^ m |||m 12.0 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 ^ 6" - ► Photographic Sdences Corporation s ^^ iV s ,v N> •S) V^ ..^ «-■* ^^^^ ^17 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 Pi? : v\ \/ "<> s '^skyy THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 87 by the entrance of Fred. He bowed court- etiu»ly to Kitty, and coolly to McGinty, who in Ilia dUtress did not take any notice of him whatever. "I hope, Miss Kinnear." said Fred, "tbut you do not have any huni tlioughta ngiiinst ine for that unpleasant scene yesterday. I assure you the cause was sufUuient to justify any violence on ray part, and I luive bee" making arrangements to take poor little Itosie from tills place, where she has been living in an infernally false position. If you only knew her real rank and character, you would belior- riHed, as I am, at the baseness of the man that could have drawn lier into such disgrace.'' This was levelled ot Mc-Gin'y, who, however, in the anguish of iiis self-reproach, did not seem to have heard it. "Mr. Fotlierby,"8uid Kitty, in a tremulous voice, " you liave not heard the awful news." "Awful news!" 8ai, except as rougli, ■while to her no rcflncmcnt was possible, ex- cept it was Ihe work of art. To her Rosettes Tery artlessucss seemed to be tlie most perfect art; and if the art was invisil)le, it was all tlie higher, on the principle of ars est cclarc artcm (true art is to conceal art). Kittj' understood Rosette differently. 81ie believed in lier. Now, so true was the Count- ess to her own theory, (hat she thought tliis Btatement of Kitty's to be merely Kitty's art, OA though she miglit wit ulty of a British matron, she asked the first ' 1 "WP THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 80 I one she saw to take her at ouce to " 'Is Grace, the Hamlmsaailor." The flunkey eyed her superciliously from head to foot, and innrclied off williout a word. Tlie mamma tliouKlit lie liiid gone to tell the Hambnasudor, and so waited for a few mo- ments, while the other flunkeys stared and gig- gled. At length, becoming conscious of this, and feeling n very natural impatience at the delay, she turned to the flunkeys, and said : " 'Eire, young man— any one of you painted cockatoos— atop your gigglink for a time, an' take me to 'Is Grace, the Hambassador, as I can't wait." At this, the flunkeys all burst out into a wild baw, haw. "Is this the way," cried the mamma, " that the Hambassador of Ilengland 'as 'is dooties done, an' 'im paid a salary big enough to feed the Royal Fambly ? 'E shall 'ear of this— a lot of lazy, padded, painted rufflnks, that ain't got hanythink better to do than to hinsult ladies. Come, now, one of you'd best be hoff, an' do vui I bid." "This 'ere's what I call rich, ain't it, Cliawles?" ■aM one of the lackeys, leaning back with an air of graceful abandon. "Witch and wawe," said another, wiio was cullivatingadifficulty with his 'r's;' "stwange hold pa wty— little hout in the 'ed, I fancy." "Well, if 'Is Grace don't make you smart for this, I'm mistaken," said the mamma, in a rape. " I'll 'ave to 'unt 'Im up myself. Which is the State Ilapartments? will you tell me that?" This only elicited a fresh roar of laughter, which made the raamma only the more excited. But she controlled her.self, for she remember- ed her dignity, and turning her back upon the pampered menials, took a glance around. A stately flight of stairs was In front. She (Talked toward these, nnd ascended them. "She's mad— stop her, Chawlcs,"said one of the lackeys. " Stop 'er yourself," said the other. " I does my dooty helsewhere." "Well, I got nothink to do about It," said a third. The mamma marohea up, and on, brandish- ing her umbrella. She met a chambermaid, who stared at her in slleuoe, but said nothing. " Which might be the hofQce of 'Is Grace the Hambassador?" asked the mamma, very po- litely. The girl stared, and then pointed to a door down the passage way. The mamma thanked her, and walked toward the door, wliile the chambermaid stood staring after her with a perplexed face. The mamma entered the room. It was a large apartment, with a large table at one end, at which sat a little man, writing. So lotent was he on his occupation, that h« did not hear her as she entered. Anxious not to be disturbed, the mamma closed tlie door carefully, and then advancing toward the table, came close up to It without being noticed. The little man was gray-lieaded, with a florid face and small liands. Tlie mamma waited for a little while, and as he did not no- tice her. she cleared her throat to attract bis attention. At this the little man looked up with a start. " Are you 'Is Grace the British Hambassa- dor?" asked the mamma, in lier blandest man- ner. T!;e little man stareil, then looked all around, then stunnl again, and tiieii leaned back in hit chair, witi. a face of fury. " Who the are you ?" he cried. " I don't know you. Wh.At the are you doing in this room?" The mamma at this raised her umbrella, with the mild and warning gesture with wbicb a good find patient mo'hor hushes a hot tem- pered child. " I, Your Grace," said she, with dignity, "am a lady and a British subjlck. My 'us- band has been hayrestod by the bloody Police horfleers, and is now in a dungeon, which bis ony hoffenee Is that be Is afree-boriied Bilton, nil' never did nor said a single wcu'il agin any- body, an' one of the kindest an' lovlngest 'art- ed men that ever lived, which tlie Ilimps of this Brimstone Babylon 'ave seized nn' kld- nap{)ed 'Im under my very nose, an* me lefl alone in the world with my 'Arrlet, as Isn't fit to take care of 'erself. an' Is frlkened to death for fear they'll come an' nab me, too, an' take me to the plaoe of Tormlnk." The little man sat staring in amaisement at 90 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. all tbl«, )ii« only thought beiug that the wo- man was rand. With this tliought hu rose from his oiiuir, nnd wns about to po to the bell-pull, 80 ns to summon the servants. But the mnmnia saw tliis, and calmiy t>ut (Irmiy put herself in bis way. Her attitude, lior um- brella, and, above all, her eye, all seemed so formidable to (he little man, that he retreated and put his chair between himself and his dreadful visitor. •' You seem frikened," said the mamma, mildly "I'll be us meek ns n babe uuboiii'd. But my 'usbnnd is in n dungeon, an' is being tormented l)y tlie Ilimps of the Poliee, nnd I come to yen for 'elp.'' "What do you wart with me?" said the other, looking nervously around, nnd not feel- ing mu(!h re-assured. "My 'usband'sbe'n bnyrested. I want you to get 'im out of is dungeon. 1 want you to oome along w lb me to the Guv'mint nn' de- mnnd my 'usbsmd nt the ennning's mouth." " The Government," faltered the other. "Yes," snid the mnmmn; "ibf Bloated Ty- runt and Despot. You're the Hambossndor, I s'pose?" "Yes." "Then come niong nt onoe. Hurry up, your grace. My man's in a dreadful bad place." " Do you really mean that your husband has been arrested?" " Yes." "What's his name?" " William Patterson, Exquire." "What for?" " Nothink." " What was the charge?" " Nothink." " Very well— very well. I'll see about it at onoe," said the Ilambossador. "And now, don't detain me." "See about It nt onst? Come along then," ■aid the mamma. "All right— all light. I'll nttend to it ns aooD as possible. You needn't wait." "Wait? No— indeed I won't waif. I want you to come along at oust," said the mamma. " Nonsense," said the Ilambassador. " I can't go at onoe— I must cummunioat<-, flrst, with His Erainenoe, the Secretary of State." "Oh! you must, must you?" said the mamma, iu her most sarcnstio tone. "Yes," said the Humbassador; "and I'll write to-day." "Obi you'll ttTttc, will you?" said f^je, in the same tone. "Yes— and now, my good woman- go " The Hambassndor waved his baud impul- sively. The mamma stood with umbrella uplifted. " Oo, is it? and so, mister Ilambnssador, that's all you've got to say to n ))oor woman when 'er unfortnit 'usband's been seized by the Police, an' clupt in cliains! Go- -nnd wait —and you'll write! And you call j'ourself the Ilnmbassador, and of free Ilenglnnd. Let me tell you this. Mister Hnmbns.'udor, I'm nBrit- ish subjick. My man pays 'is taxes in 'nrd cash to keep you 'ere, an' all you do is to keep n lot of cockatoo flunkeys tohinsult women iu distress, which comes to you and gets no satis- faction—nothing but go, nnd wait, and write. But this ere case of mine nin't to be trifled about. I demnnd nnd call on you to come along this binslant; take me to the Police nud make them give up my 'usband." "The woman's mad!" said the Hambassndor, at his wit's end, nnd not knowing how to end this without some uudlgnifled scene. "Mnd!" cried the mnmma, stimg to the quick by this imputation. "Mnd! I'll soon show you! I'll write to the Times. I'll tell tbem 'ow you nn' your flunkeys hinsult Brit- ons iu distress— 'ow you're n 'umbng an' traitor— 'ow you're a disgrace to your sex! Look out. I make my request for the last time. I call on you to come with me to the Police nnd demand my 'usband nt the can- ning's mouth, in the name of the Queen of Henglaud; an' then, if be don't give him up at ojuie, I call on you to send for the British Fleet nn' border them to bombard Rome till my 'usband is sot free from 'is dungeon. I call " But at this instant hurried footsteps were heard, nnd two gentlemen entered. " Henvens, Merivnie, you're just in timel" cried the Hambassndor. " Ring the bell, like a good fellow, will you— and pack this mad wo- man out." The mamma began onoe more to rave, but THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 91 the bell fvnfl rung, aud the flunkeys cnrae, and Blie found hertielf iu a few moments deposited ou the strebt iu frout of the Embassy. iimil— ' CHAPTER XXXIV. THK WANDERINGS OF THE MAMMA. Poor mamma, your (carriage horses Are frightened at the Roman foroesi Thus tlie niammii wus iguominiously dis- mis^ied by the hiiughty Ambnusiuior and his pampered menials. Her rage and astonish- ment were inexpressible. For some time she oould not speak or even thinic. She stood staring baek at tliodoorway while the flunkeys giggled, and Joliii Thomas made a witty re- mark to Cliawics ; and Jeames indulged in 'gome delicate chaff; and William slyly said, "Walkerl" and all laughed joyously and bilariously. At length the mamma came to herself, and the thought of her errand returned in time to prevent tier suffocating with fury. 'Er 'us- bundl 'E! 'Im! Enough. Let her defer her vengeance on the Ilambassador till 'E was saved. But 'ow? 'Oo? She could think of nothing in particular, but it occurred to her that the best course would bo to drive about the city everywhere, and perhaps she might «ee something of him— or meet with some one who might be able to assist her. This she de- cided on, and entering once more into her car- riage, she drove away. The streets were more crowded than usual, and tlio people were gathering in knots, con- versing in low tunex. Bands of soldiers were oocasionally encountered. Of all these things, however, tlie maumia took but little note. Her attention was directed to (circumstances which miglit lead to the liberation of her husband ; and knots of Italians or bands of soldiers did not seem to belong to this catagory. For some hours she drove about witliout being nearer a decision than when she started, until at length something struck her eye, which suggested a thought, wliich flashed into her mind, which instantly begun to play about it, and to construct out of it the fabric of a highly original plan. The ol)ject which the mamma saw was a robe— the ro'.ie of a monk. It was hanging fu ttie doorway of a shop, and seemed to l> \>2r;osed for sale, together with othi-r objects of a miscellaneous cliaraoter. No sooner, therefore, had the mamma come to a decision about this than slie ordered the carriage back, and soon reached the shop. Quitting the carriage she entered and looked around. The shop seemed like the establishment of a coustumiere, who might supply attire for masquerade purposes, or for tlie Iht'atre, or opera, or pantomime. Dresses ol every con- ceivable sort hung all around, or lay folded on shelves. There were nniny ecclesiastical dresses, and these were the ones in which the mamma was interested. These whe proceeded to examine, and the propiietor stepped up witli a profusion of bows. At length she found one which suited her purpose. How much? she asked of the shop- keeper. The man understood from her face aud tone what she said, aud held up five fingers saying: "Cinque scudi." The mamma saw the Ave Angers and knew it was five something; so she drew forth her purse. There happened to be notliing smaller in it than some Bank of England five-pound notes, except some small Italian silver coin. The mamma showed him one of tlie.ie notes. The man bowed, took it, boned again, went back to his money l)ox, turned over his money, came buck again to mamma, bowed and said something to her in Italian, with gestures, and smiles, and l)ows. From which the mamma guessed that he was telling her thiit he had no ciiaiige, but would go out and get it for her. This was a thing which the mamma would have felt no hesita- tion al)out in London, but in Rome she did not feel the same degree of confldence. Still she was excessively eager to have the costume— her plan depended on this, and so she hesi- tated. It is said that "The woman who hesi- tates islost." It was true in this instance, for the dealer taking silence for consent, made a few more bows, and hurried out with the amial)le intention of not returning in person, at least until the lady bad retired. The mamma took the robe in her arm, and 92 THE BABES IN TUE WOOD. waited. Timo pusst^d. The triidcr oame not. She stood h)ol{iiig first up nud tlieii down. As she did so sliu was iiwnn- of ii sudden ngi- talion in tlie street. People enino wallr this, rIio had ptniitt*d herself in front of the glass, and surveyed tbe rt>fleotiou therein, she saw tbat her tninsfor- mation was perfect and coinplete; that the pnpa of her heart, If he were to see lier, would never suspect that she wns liia wifi-— hl« " Loo- wheezer "— and that thu Prefect of Police, If she were to bo presented to him, would never take her for anything else tlinn a rosy, easy- going, well-fed, well-kept monk. The plan of the mamma was a highly origi- nal one, and did great credit alike to lier inge- nuity and lier imagination. To diitguise her- self as a monk was certainly a great conception ; but this was only the preliminary part of tbe sohemc. For the imaginative mamma had concocted a plan which went far beyond thi«, and which for its daring and its complication was astounding. It was nothing less than tliis: lu this monk's dress she proposed to work her way somehow to the Prison of tlie Police; effect an entrance by marching calmly in ; visit the prisoner Pat- terson in the most matter-of-fact way in tlie world as his pri vote friend; envelope him in her monk's drevs; pack him off to return to 'Arrlet; while slie herself— she — the mamma, the Unterrifled, the Indomitable, she would stay to face the OfiBcers of the Police, tlie Judges of tbe Court, the Rack, the Fagot, tbe Boot, tbe Thumli-Bcrew, the Boiling Oil, the Burning Stake, the Molten Lead, and death itselfl All I Yes, all! Every one of them. Face them I Aye! and as a British matron,— a free horned Henglisbwoman, and a daughter of the Peo- plel Now I should like any one to reoal the mental altitude of tlie papa and compare it with that of the mamma. Which is the nobler, the braver, the loftier, tbe pluckier? The mamma took her umbrella. She took lier bonnet. Tbe bonnet she threw under (he bed. The umbrella she used as a walking stick. She took a final survey of herself in tbe glass. She saw there the reflected form of a portly monk— with full chest, broad shoulders, erect attitude and determined mien. Fully satisfied with this final inspection she turned and left the room. No one saw her. She then descended the stairway, after which she cdmly walked ont of tbe Hotel without being recognized by any one. Arriving outside, she raw a great crowd all moving in one dirf>otion. To stem it and i;o against it was impossible; so she allowed her- self to drift with It. It was herintention todo as she had done on the previous day, namely, to wait for something to turn up. And so it was that the mamma plunged into the crowd and walked on with it in its course. All around her there was great excitement and deep agitation. Songs and shouts roee into the air, together witli cries of all sorts, and yells and vociferations, while from the dis- tance there came the rattle of volleys of mus- ketry and the thunder of guns. And, obi if our good mamma had only understood Ital> Ian I Oh 1 if she bad but been able to catch the meaning of tlie rapid words that flashed from mouth to mouth. IIow her heart would have bounded! IIow her soul would have rejoiced! She would have heard nothing but : '*La Prefecture! The castle is bealegedt The prisons are surrounded ! The prlaoners are free I" But, unfortunately, the mniiimadid notnn* derstand Italian, and knew nothing of what was golnig on. Like tlie other actors in this tremendous drama slie moved about, gather* iiig her own impressions from surrounding scenes, acting in accordance witli them, and never so much as dreaming a distant dream of the actual truth. The mamma's progress was slow. The crowd was great. There were also frequent inteiv i-uptlons. Sometimes they would be stopped liy a concourse of people listening to some flery demagogue haranguing in sonorous Ital- ian ; at other times a line of Red Shirts would block some street; again, a denser crowd would make all further progress impoeslble, and those who wished to keep moving would have to pass along its outskirts. At last, after some hours, tbe momma found herself in a square filled with human beings. It was impossible to go any farther forward, and equally impossible to go back. Mony Il«>d Shirts were here. These men were exerting themselves toward keeping a paasage-way open through the crowd. Here an oooasional horseman would pass, or a carriage. . THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 05 Ab ttie mamma oiuiie up, a oaiTiuge was pansliiK nt this very place. In tlio onrringe there were four men Stop! What! Can it he! Is it possible! Do her eyes ilwjelve her? Who! oh, wiio U tliat nged parly in respectiihlo hinck— without a liat on bis venerabla lieand Red Shirts, disappeared from the soenel CHAPTER XXXVn. TWO F0RLU.;N DAM8XLB. LuoUeM 'Arriet and Kitty I Murderen prowl about tlie oityt Ow all the Babes in this Wood of Sorrow and Trouble, no one at tliis moment was in deeper affliction and dismay tlian the unhappy 'Ar- riet. Her father In prison, her mother lost, her friends gone, she was indeed an orphan (!hild, and knew not where to turn for help or succor. Anxiety about tier papa had surely l)eeu bad enougli, but now to tliis tliere had been superadded a new anxiety about her mamma. It was terrible. The hours of that day on wliicli tlie mamma had left were over. Time rolled on. Hour succeeded to hour. The shades of night were falling faMt. Still the mamma did not return. Expectation deepen- ed into Impatience; impatience into anxiety; anxiety into alarm; alarm into despair. Still there were no signs of the mamma. And slu!— what could she do? 'Arriet had done all that she could. She bad tried to dissuade the mamma from her pro- ject. From the first, she Itiid felt no coufldencs whatever in tiie success of her plan, and was only waiting for her to ri^turn unsuccessful, so as to be able to find her in a sufDcieutly quiet state of mind to be talked to and reasoned with. But as the lime passed away, and the mamma came not bacl<, she began to feel a now anxiety, and to become very much terri- fied. She began to fear ttat the mamma, in tier hot indignation and her dense l^notance, might have been led on to the commission of acts wliich had brought on, perhaps, her own arrest, or had involved her in some diffloully of equal gravity. Kitty, like a true friend, shared all the dis- tress of 'Arriet. with whom siie deeply sympa- thized. She tried as well as she could to soothe the fears of her friend, and to re-assure her ; but her effort* were only partially suooessful. Kitty Indeed felt quite convinced herself that Mrs. Patterson would utterly fall in her plans, and that if slie escaped getting into trouble herself, it would be the utmost that could be hoped. With this conviotion, it is not sur- prising tliat Kitty was unable to administer much consolation to her stHcken friend. At length, when it had grown quite late In the day, they were startled by the arrival of the ooaohman. Coming thus alone, his appearance was something like that of the hunter's steed returning without his rider. It showed plainly that some accident bad happened, and 'so great was the terror of 96 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 'Arrlft timt she wait afrnld to nak what It was. Tho noachmuii told tlm whole »tory, Im-kIii- iiiiiK frniii llii< flrxt. lit* told about tlio vLsit of till) inainiiiii to thti UritUh AiutniHiiudor, hi-r long stay tlitTo, hrr failurt', lur departiiri-, her prolonged drivo about town, and her lliial purc'ha!«u in ii 8li. Up to tlii8 point llic ooai'hiniin had only to rclaio what Ih already very well known to tho rcadiT, lint lu>ro tliciv 0(!curred Ills own vt'islon of that i-xtraoidiu- nry cvt-nt which had torn hlin from tlit< nnunina. and luft hur alone among atrangcra and forviuncrM. Auoording to tho oOaitliinan, wliilo the matn- mu wiia in tho ahop thero ofinirred a ohai'Ko of tho (javalry, by wliieh evi-ry ono waa driven out of thu ftnol in ail inntant. Thoooiifusion had roiiat-d him. It was impoasiblu for him to cominunicatu with the mamma. IIu had been fort't'd to fly inatantaneoual}'. j^eeoidiii;;ly, whipping lip Ids horaea, hu had tied away be fore the dragoona for tbu whole length of the street. Then, while trying to turn into an- other, ho had (fome to grief by ainaahing hia carriage against a atone wall. Tho dragoona, on reaehing Ihe apot, had nearly iiddt;nhiin down, and aoni!-) gen-durinea had lakeii poaaes- aion of the horaea. Siioh waa the coachman'a tragic atory. Upon hearing thia it beeaino the one idea of 'Arriet to find her iimmma, and reacuo her from her danger. The coachman aaid he re- membered the place perfectly well, and would have gone back himaelf at once, but the atreet waa guarded by tlio military, who allowed no one to paaa. He had therefore concluded to return to the hotel without delay, and give information to the ladlea. 'Arriet saw that the moat Important thing ■was for her to And her way aa aoon aa possible to that ahop, where her m.iinma might still be waiting. Kilty tried to dissuade her, and then offered to accompany her. But 'Arriet would not liaten to either proposal. She wanted to go at ouoe with the coachman, and was anxious for Kitty to remain beliiod, so that some one should be inthe house to receive her mamma, in the event of her return. And so bidding Kitty good-bye, the affectionate 'Arriet went off with the coachman in search of the good mamma. Kitty was left alouu. It grew later. Slie began to feel nervous. To be ail alone in tlii.4 large li«use in this atrange city was very iinpleaaant to a timid young girl. The events tliat had been occurring all around had by no means tended to lessen her natural timidity. Heaidca, tlicre were other reasons why she w-.s restless. 8lie did not like to be inactivu while all her frienda wero overwhelmed with anxiety and misfortune. But wliat could ahe do? Where could she go? A thought came. The Countess. Yea, the Countess wos undoubtedly tho very one. Site could auugest the best possible courae to be taken in this emergency. 8he had been expecting tlie Countess all day, but had hith- erto been disappointed. Soalie now conoliided to go and see her. The lodgings of the Count- esa were ill a house which waa not far away, iind she could get back when ahe ohose. Tlie Counteaa could tell her all about every- thing— wliother there was really any danger or not ; how great the danger might be; and what had beat be done under the ciroum- staneea. By the time she could get back again. Smitliers would undoubtedly be in and oould give her the latest intelligenoe. Accordingly, witli tlieae plans and thoughts and hopes, Kitty left her own Hotel, ard set f nh tolliid Ihe Countess. Mhe left behind Iter ior the information of her friends a hastily pencilled note, addressed to 'Arriet, stating that she had gone to see the Countess and would be back in less than an hour. Ill about two hours 'Arriett returned. She was deeply dejected. She had not been able to find the mamma, or to hear anything what- ever about her. She had gone to the shop where the coachman liad left her, having been allowed to pass the cordon of soldiers. The ahop was shut. The coac^hman inquired at tlie adjoining house. He could obtain no informa- tion, 'Arriet thus returned. During her absence slie hud seen enough to feel convinced that the whole city wna full of the wildest confusion and disturbance, and this suggested the possi- bility of endless misfortunes and calamities to her parents. Only one hope remained as ahe returned— the faint one that her mother might r THE IIABKS IN THE WOOD. 07 baTo arrived home. Tli« llr»t gliiiiuu wua Hiifll- uleiit. All wus Uurk. Nu one wii« tlieif. Ilur 8oul Hnnk within her. A mail approached, and uc>eo«(od hvv In tremulous tones. •■ KIk— kik Miu KInnear," aalil the man. "It'HMIsi Patterson," niild 'Arrlet. "Isn't Kitty Inside, Mr. Hinlthers?" " No. Isn't she nlth you?" "No. I left her here; she must be here," call! 'Arrlel, wonderln^ly. " LIkIUs were now hrouRlit; 'Arrlet in Iut anxii'ty, poured forth her whole soul to McQlnly, who tried to connolti her as well as hewasalile. Dut the gravity of (he case liail uow grown to he such, that all uommonplace oondolences were felt to he useless. In the midst of this, 'Arrlf*. saw Kitty'i> note to herself, and read It. She showed it to MoGlnty. As he Rianeed over it, an uneasy vzpresslou passed over hia faee. "The Countess!" said he; "she ought to l)o back. There'ssome disturbance up that street. It's bad— very bad. I think I'll take a turn up that way, and see if I can flinl her. I hope to find your mamma here when I come back." And with these words MoQiuty went off iti •earuh of Kitty. CHAPTER XXXVIII. THE VERT VOLATILE FRED. Here Is Fred continuing yet. Vowing vows to 'Arriet. McOiNTT went ou in scarcii in Kitty, and 'Arriei was once more left alone. Her poni- tiou seemed now more forlorn than ever, and she felt quite crushed beneath the load of her anxieties. Her friends seemed all lost. She ■eemed alone In the world. She felt terrified at the loneliuesa around her. Her papa was gone. Her mamma was gonei Kitty was gone. McOlnty was gone. Mo one oame near ber. And sbe— whlthor Bbould she gof In the midst ot gloomy tbougbti like these, ■he wai Blartled by a rap at the door. She niitlied to open It, half in hope, half In fear. It was Fred Fotlii-rby. A cry of eager Joy escaped her, showing bow weluome ills appearance was. In fact, the nppearnnoeof Fred, turning uiv Just then, came to (his forlorn one like run- shine in the midst of blacke.''t clouds. All ber Joy iliscloscd Itself In her face. Her llrst Im- pulse was to throw herself in his arniK, out of utter dellgiit. Tlie Impulse wan chcirked, but it showi'd itself, anil FriKl was dt-cply affeuted. Behind the smile on her lip.i lie could see the remains of siglis; behind thenpurkieof Joy iu lier eyes he oould see I lie traces of tears. Ho saw all this, and felt quite overcome by pity for her, and syiiipaihy fur her. Beauty Iu dis- tress liad appeared before him on other ouou- sions. He had encountered that most moving: of spectacles, when he met the Countesa oui the Apeiiiilni>s, and Roseile at the Pattersoua'. Yet never before had beauty in distreaa poAr- scssed a more pathetic ohanii. Now Fred, mind yon, was not the man to do< things by halves where a pretty woman wuA' coiieerued. His sympathy with 'Arriet on the present occasion was most profound, and also. most genuine. Her face had n beauty uoir which was decidedly heightened by the sor-- rows wlilcli it bore. True, a cloud iiail arlseiv between them during the last few days, but at thejirescnt moment theclotnl seeiiKd all dis- persed. Fred's heart, therefore, melted, with sympathy. His soul yearned over the forlorn maiden. He could not resist his own kindly and tender impulses. lie opened Ids arma wide. He caught her to his heart. He kissed licr fondly, over and over again, wlille poor 'Arriet, all overcome, burst into tears. After this, Fred spent some ten or fifteen mliiutea in soothing her, coinfoi'tlng her, oon- soling her, quieting lior, and all that sort of thing— no use going into particulars, you know — and all this seemed to do 'Arriet a world of good (some natures require a great deal of petting nnd caressing, and will iiave it, you kimw), while Fred himself, the young dog, en- joyed It no end, and forgot all about every- tliing else under the sun. Some time elapsed before 'Arriet had re- gained ber composure, or bad acquired auffl- oient control of beraelf to make Fred ao- 98 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. quaiuted with Iiur troubles. Her tint atteicpt to do BO resulted in iucoherencies. It waa: " Pup — puji— pui) — luutn— mum— mum— kik — kik— kik "— nud then poor 'Arrlet burst into tears. From tliia, however, Frtd succeeded iu feath- ering some idi'ii. He lit ouee hasteued to re- assure her; aud iu order to do so, adopted a tone of lofty confidence, which was quite nat- ural to him, together with a muuuer which seemed to say, that all fear should now l)e dis- missed, since she had so powerful n protector. "Your papa," suid Fred—" oh, all riglit; it's all right. Don't bother about him. Ue'll be all right. You fee, I dropped in to talk it over with the Ambassador, and he fays he'll look it up, and see about it. So, you see, you needn't think anything more about that." "But momma?" said tlie mournful 'Arriet. "Oh, she's all right," continued Fred, in the same confident tone, and with the same air of protection. " You see, I heard about her ' "Heard about lier— where?" asked 'Arrlet, eagerly. " Oh— at the Ambassador's." "The Ambassador's?" "Yes. Found out that she'd been in there before me — deuced quick, too, in the old lady —and what do you think she'd done?" "What?" asked 'Arriet, anxiously. " Done? why, she'd forced her way iu— posi- tively forced her way — and into his private room, ani there she stood, and bullied him no end, and threatened him, and went so far as to try to braiu him with her umbrella." At this, 'Arriet looked utterly af^hast, aud did not know what to say. " Oh, don't be frightened. He didn't mind," coutinued Fred. " It's all right now. I ex- plaiued all about it— smoothed it all over, you know. So it's all riglit." "But mamma's lost, and I can't find her; and I don't know where she is," said 'Arriet, as nil her troubles began once more to roll iu upon her. " Lost?" said Fred. "Lost? What is that?" 'Arriet went on to tell him all her woes. Fred listened quietly, and then replied, witli unfaltering confidence and uuabuted cheer- fulness: , •• Oh 1 nevermind. It's all right. It's that Mivalry charge. That's all. That's the whole trouble, you know. Your ooachinan should have goue buck at once. Your mamma waited for hiiu, cf course, as long as she could, aid then tried to go home alone. She didu'tkuow the way, however, audas she couldu't speak Italian, why, you see, slie's had to give it up. So, you see, she's probably turned in at some Hotel. No doubt she'll lie Imck early to-morrow morning. Kot likely she'll be back to-night." "Oh! do you really think so? 'asked 'Ar- riet, with u feeling of immense relief. " Think so?" said Fred. " I'm sure of it." " And then there's poor Kitty," suid 'Arrlet. "Kitty? What of her?' 'Arriet told him. "Pooh!" said Fred ;" she's all right. It's some arrangement between her and Smithers. That's all. The fact is," continued Fred, "Smithersisaconfounded humbug. Ishouldu't mind his payingattentiontodifferent women," (and Fred here thought with jealousy of his dealings with Rosette); "but I don't think it's altogether fair for a fellow to try to win the affections of a lady who's Just, about to be married to another fellow, you know. Oh! don't you bother your head about Miss Kin- near. Smithers '11 take good care of her — too good care — I believe." " But do yon really think that there's no danger?" "Danger? not a bit," said Fred, positively; "don't you give it another thought ;" and Fred went on at great length to reiterate all that he had beeu saying, until 'Arrlet began to believe that all her fears were baseless, and that everything was as plea:apa came not back. The niainnia returned not. Kitty neitlier came, nor did she send any message. Anil Sniitliers! Where was he? He had gone In search of Kilty, full of anxiety, pro- iiiising to bring htr back. He had neither bi'ought bur, nor had he come himself. It seemed us though there was some present danger nienaciiig all, into which every one of her friekid-4 had fallen. i- 100 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. Hoiira pnased awny. The terror of 'Arrlel grew Rtoiiger every moment. The servants •lipped iiwny ns though in search after some biding pluee. None were left. She, too, would have fled, but dared not. At length there came a knock. She thought of Fred. Slie sprang to the door. It vras not Fred. It wax Grassato. The light of joy that liad shown in her face at the hope of seeing Fred died out into deep disappointment. Ornssato could not help noticing this. He bowed low, with bis usual elaborate courtesy. " I have come, moes," be said, " to safe yo»i." " To cave me?" 'Arriet repeated. " Is tiiere danger? What is all this? What is it that is going on ?" "DeRevolnzione," said Grassato — "de po- polo— de people — doy rise. Dey haf all. De governments fly. Dey ole linf fly." " Papa," cried "Arriet ; " oh ! tell me— tell me. Have yon beard anything of him 1" Grassiito shook his bead. " No," said be. " It is revoluzioiic. De peo- ple haf proclama to de Republioa. Dey go to de prison of de Prefettura. Dey haf take it. Dey haf freede captif from de Polizie." •'What!" cried 'Arriet, in intense excite- ment. "Have they taken the |)rison of the Police? Have they freed the prisoners? Then papa must be free. He must be safe. Oh! where is be? Where can I And iiim? Oh! can yon not help lue to get to him?" "Oil! yea— yes — yes — certanamente," said Qrnssato. "AUarigbt; you papa come 'ome soon, safe, an' well, an' allaright. Do popolo tak alladi prisionierl to de Palazzo Quirinale, an' festadem." "Pi'Staderal" inquired 'Arriet. "Yes, dey git a festa— a dejeuner— a dinner — ba! You ond'stan— ah! An' now I bat come to saf you. You moos come out of dees. You not saf ere. You moos come wit mo to some place where you sail be saf from de po- polo an' de Bevoluzionieri." "But can you not find where poor papa Is?'' " Oh. allaright. Yea. I find. Mebbe '£ ees at ze Quirinale." "Quirlnale?" "Yes — de Palazzo— where dey gifde dinner." "But Trr.iijma?" said 'Arriet, "she isgonel" "Ah— deSlgnora?" " Yes— slie went away yesterday, to try and liberate poor papa; she went to the Ambassa- dor's, and was separated from her coachman in a crowd, by a cavalry charge. And she baa not returned, nor has she sent me any message, and I am dreadfully anxious about her." Grassato shrugged his shoulders and waved his hand. " Pouf," said he, " ollaright. She safe." "Safe! Oh, bow can I know?" " Kuow— why because I spy so!" Faid Gras- sato, with a positiveness which would havedone credit to Fred himself. "I know. I will tell. You flee eet ees Revoluzioue — de streets pot passabele. So she cannot come 'ere 'ome. She haf found rcfugio in a 'Otel— till de Bevola- zione passaby. Den she come 'ome, an' de papa come 'ome, an' you oome 'ome, an* all come 'ome to be 'appy— all reunitatl." " But I think I had better be here to receive mamma when she comes." Grassato shook bis head most vehemently. "No, no, no!' said he. "Eet is not safe — not for anoder hour You moos fly — escape — get a refugio. Leal)e a note for de Signora tellen 'er where you af gone." There was but one more objection to going in 'Arriet's mind, but this, it must be confess- ed, was a stron^ one. Fred bad solemnly promised to come for lier. He had not come. Should she wait, or should she give bim up. It was not easy to decide. " Mr.- Mr. Fotherby— ah, promised," she stammereil, " to— to oome here— and— and " Grassato drew himself up haughtily. 'Arriet hesitated. " What of 'im— what of Signer Fodnirby?" asked he. " lie nsked me to wait, and promised to— to —to— 1)0 liero and— save me!" Grassato smiled scornfully, and looked fix- edly at 'Arriet. •"El" said Gras»ito. "'E come, nevaret Dere is danger now allaroun. Why not 'E oome to safe you ? Do you not know ? 'B for- get you! 'E know noting more about you. 'E only know one — 'imself— an' one oder— la Bosettina. 'Imself an' la Rosettina— dat alL 1 f TEE BABES IN THE WOOD. 101 ainner." sgone!" try and mbossa- acbman i] she bos message, «r." id waved Ef you wait 'ere for 'lin, you moos wait till de fliiiinoudo." Ttie allusion to Rosette was well made. lu an instant all the jealousy of 'Arriet was roused. Sbe thouRbt berseif once t tre for- gotten and forsaken on account of U>Butte; and her late anxiety about her parents now gave way to a new feeling, that of deep resent- ment against the volatile, tbe eaprlclous, the fickle, the treacberous, tbe too susceptible Fred Fotberby. lie bad deserted and forgot- ten her in this lime of danger. That was most evident. Iler own care for her personal safety as well as her wounded pride, botb alike urged her to accept the offer of tbe generous and faithful Orassato. A few moments were occupieegan to take off his boots." "Dreadful old man! takeoff bis boots!" re- peated Fred. " Ob, Rosie, you are not mad, are you ? Do you mean old Patterson ?'* " Why, of course I do." " But he's been tnken off by tbe Police, too, and flung into a dungeon." "It's quite plain, Freddie, dear," said Bo- 102 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. sette, placidly, " thnt you have bad some night- mare." "NightmareT Why, there's no end o* n Ttm, Mrs. Patterson has gone mad about her husband. Harriet has disappeared. Misa Klnnear ha* vanished. The whole city Is in an uproar. But come inside. The houintal despots not. Tlint was the style of Foieipii Tymnts, whose principle of uclioii was uui- Tersal terrorism. 8uuh thou^ihts ns tlie»e ran swiftly throufrh the mind of the p:ipa, leaving him but little power for planning nny further about liis own escape. Tlie papa rose slowly to his feet, holding his hoots in his hand. A first impulse to follow Rosette was suueeeded by a more cautious hesitation. Follow her? Why? Where? To do so might lead him among enemies again. And would not Hosette herself be one of his worst enemies? She had never iiljed him. Would she not act ngninst him now, and de- nounce him afrenh as a fugitive prisoner. Besides, even if she should prove friendly she could not now be of nny use to him whatever. If it had only been the Countess, he would oertalnly have flown after her at all hazards. She could have saved him from danger, either by assisting him to escape, or by acting as his Interpreter. Instead, therefore, of following Rosette, the pnpn made up his mind rather to take the op- posite direct ion, and lieep as far as f ossible out of her way. Acting upon this determination, he retreated from this room, and crossing the hall outside, entered the suite of apartments on the opposite side, along which he proceeded. Apartment after apartment was traversed. To his surprise, he encoiiuterud no one. The place seemed deserted. In nny of them, there was no furniture except some tables and sofas — State furniture, which did not seem asso- ciated with any use or comfort, but rattier de- signed for show. The walls were covered with pictures or mirrors, and the ceilings overhead, were painted with fresco. At length, he readied n room which had some signs of life. There was a table here, a desk, n book-shelf with hooks, a couch, and some writing apparatus. Beyond this was a bedroom, with a bed and other furniture. The papa looked all around. At the opposite side was a door. It seemed to afford exit. Perhaps it would show a way out. He opened it. It was a (arge closet, or rather asmall iipartiiieiit, and all around there were rohes haiigiiig. The robes were of various colors, niid had nil evi- dently ceremonial chiiraoler. Thoy evidently lieloiiged to some exalted persoriage who in- habited these rooms— perhaps tlie Lord tligli Chniirel!'n-. The papa was disiippointed at not finding any way out, yet what he did see gave iiitii a feeling of relief. He breatlied more freely. lie at once fancied, that hekiiew pretty certainly to whom the rooms and the robes belonged. Beyond a doubt, he thought, they belonged to no other than tlie Chaiu^elior him- self. Outside was tliat awful being's office; next to this was his sleeping room, and here was his own dressing room. This was the Ju- dicial palace, in tlie courtyard of which lie was wont to have \\\» Executlona, and regale himself from the windows of these apartments with the spectacle. Here were the robes of state, the trappings of oflBoe with which the High Chancellor was wont to array his person. Here was the room from which issued his awful mandates, the bed on which slumbered his awful form. Strange, indeed, did it seem to the papa that here, in such close proximity to his terrible Persecutor, the treinbihi'/ fugitive should feel most secure. Yet so it is — under the very muz- zles of the guns, the soldier is sometimes safest —and so in the wardrobe of the Chancellor, lliH papa felt most confident. He felt happier for two reasons; first, there was the immediate chance of biding; and sec- ondly, he thought that if the Lord High Chan- cellor himself should arrive, he could manasze to explain matters to him, and come to some uiiderstniiding. For he still fell convinced that the shortest roud out of his political diffi- culty was by means of an instant and uncon- ditional objuration of all his former prin- ciples. Here, then, he waited, shrouding him- selt among I lie long official robes, so as to be unseen. At length a happy thought occurred. Wliy stand here idle? Why not disguise liiroself in some of these robes? He could then move about much more freely. He might even be able to glide out of the building; per- haps to escape the nolioe even of the senti- THE BABSa IN THE WOOD. lOS 1 it. It I'tlllKIlt, K. Tli» M t'Vl- (luiitly lio in- Hi«li leil at lid aee (1 more piHtty r()l>tf8 lit, they [or liim- offloe; 1(1 hero th(! Ju- lie was liim.«elf la fvitb f slate, HIsh Here I uwful red bis iiels tbeu\8elve8. It would soon be dark. He oould Dot be discovered ; and clothed iu these robes— the robes of Ibe Lord High Chnn<'i'llor ~be would be virtually master of thesUuatiou. Such was the thought that suggested itself. No sooner bad it occurred, than the papa ut oiK^e saw its full value, and proceeded to carry it into execution. He took tbe one that bung nearest. It was an ample robe, wiih loose sleeves. This be flung ovtr biii bead, tbrUHtiiig bis arms through the sleeves, and buttoning it at tbe throat. Another looser robe, that looked like a oloak with sleeves, wod flung over this. It was open, and edged with fur. Tbe papa was a portly man, but the robes were large enou';'n. In fact, ihey fitted him quiteas well, as if they had been made for bim by his own tailor. He then saw a cap lying near. This he put upon bis bead, and then surveyed hiinaeir in a mirror. He was amazed at the change in bis nppcnr- ance. He looked like a portly, majestic, ven- erable Judge— not quite a Judge of the Eng- lish stamp, but rather of the Continenlul order— much like those whom he bad seen in tbe theatre; his robes, bis cap, bis whole mien, reminded blm of tbe Judges in tbe " Merchant of Venice." He found, liowever, that his face was still showing a little too prominently, and looked around for some additional conceal- ment. A large cloak with a hood was liangmg there. This he flung over liis shoulders. The transformation was now complete. Tbe hood attached to the cloak could be pulled over his bead so as to cover bis face and conceal it. Hiding his face in this way, he stood for a while deliberating aa to his next course. Some time elapsed. It grew dark. Tbe papa was glad of this, for it gave a better chance of concealment, and served to make the prospect cf escape still better. CHAPTER XLII. THE PAPA AS LORD HIOH CHANCKIiLOn. Some one enters— follow met 'Tis the road to LItiertyt There, in the dark, in the innermost chamber of tbe Lord High Chancellor, clothed in tbe official robes of that great f unotlonary himself, the papa awaited bis fate. Suddenly be heard a faint tap at tbe door. The pupa iid not move. He stood and watched. The door opened. A uiun came iu very stealthily. He was dressed like one of bis ciiief tormentors— that is to say, u RtMl Shirt. He came in very noise- lessly and oaiitlously, walking on tip toe, and then shut the door. Then be opened the slide of a dark lantern. A gleam of light shot forth, and fell upon the portly figure of tbe di.'tguised papa. The man seer ^ed satisfied. He said, in a low whisper: " Ps— s— s— s— s— t !" The papa's heart quailed. He was discovered. Fuither concealment was Impossible. Should he carry out hi!i preft> ent plan, or give It up7 But what could he do? He could not speak Italian. True, lie might disrobe and show himself, but that would only hasten his doom. Better try concealment and disguise a little longer. So bis mind gradually rested upon this, and falling back upon bis old plan, besought for foreign words to address to this stranger. So he suid, in a low voice: ' ' Mult urn in Parvo ! Exeunt omnes !" Red Shirt made a low ol>eisnnce. The papa saw at once. that bis disguise was a complete success. In the mind of the Red Siiirt, there was evidently no suspicion that the figure be- fore him In the gloom, was other than tbe august judicial functionary whom be repre- sented. Red Shirt now hurriedly whispered some- thing in Italian, and made signs to the pnpa. Then be shut tbe lantern, and went out iu tbe same stealthy way in which be had come in. Tlie papa followed. Red Shirt then went to a door in the outer room, which tbe papa had not noticed. He opened it. Here there was disclosed a small hall, with what seemed a private stairway. Down this Red Shirt led tbe way. The papa followed. At tbe bottom there was a door. It opened outside. Here there was a carriage and horses. Red Shirt looked cautiously all about. Then be beckoned to the papa to enter. The papa did so. In fact, be oould hardly do other- 106 TUB BABES IN THE WOOb. Trisf. [J|ion this, Red Shirt banged to the door, nioiirtud th« ooachmun'8 buz, aud drove off fast niid furiously. CHAPTER XLIir. THE PAPA ON ni8 WAY TO THE JUDGMENT HALL — HE DECIDES TO TBY AND SENTENCE POLITI- CAL OFFENDEIta. Poor papa is In a flz, Ho must deal with polltloa. The papa wns iii»ide tlie oonch, and Red .Sliirt, on Itie l>ox, drove liiin off lilie wild fire. For the prosent tlio pnpii was safe. But wimt sort of safety was it? With the papa at that time there were great qualms at heart. With tlie papa at that time,there were freat search- incs of mind. You must remember, dear reader, that the papa still oluugto the idea of some great public execution of politiual offenders, which was to be effected ill no othtr way than through the agency of FibeI True, instead of being acon- demned victim, he was now suddenly trans- formed to the altitude and office of Judge and Lord Higli Chancellor; instead of being a miserable political offender, he was the Cliief Justice, drei^sed in the higli judicial robes and riding in the Cliief Justice's o* i carriage to the Supreme Tribunal. Ko one was so conscious of this fact, and all that it involved, as the papa himself. From this point of view he started forth upon bis meditations, consider- ing the end of bis present drive, and all its possible consequences. To the papa, it seemed evident that the Red Shirt who had taken him from his concealment, was the private atten- dant of the Lord High Chancellor,— bis own private Executioner,— like those of whom he had read. He thought that he was summoned to preside over some Midnight Tri- bunal. There would be brouglit before him political offenders of every kind, native and foreign— Italian Republicans, and English travelers. He fancied that be might have to pass the night engaged in a torture or two, with the Rack, the Thumb-screw, the Iron Boot, or perhaps a few oases of Breaking on the Wheel. The papa brought this idea home before bis mind very vividly, and was compelled to ask himself how be, as Lord High Chancellor, ought to act. Well, the papa, ofter very solemn considera- tion, decided tliat he would not only have to 8ccm tlie Lord High Chancellor, hut to he the Lord High Chancellor. Hold a trial? Why not ? Was he not Chief Justice? Could he, or rather, dared he falter from the performance of his high office. It the accused should turn out to be dangerous Radicnis, or Cunspirators, or plotting Carbonari, why not condemn. If they should l)e condemned, %vhy not burn? Burn? aye, burn, torture, torment, rack, any- thing— anything— so long as the good papa might be able to keep his own precious skin out of harm's way. Then,the dreadful thought came to him that the accused might all be English— in fact, it seemed cnly too likely. Englishmen and Ameri- cans were perpetually interfering with foreign governments, and talking ill-timed Radical- ism, under the very ears of the Police. Per- haps there might even be acquaintances of his own, or even of his own household, who could tell. Rosette had been arrested. Was it possible tliat Rosette herself, could be the prisoner to whose trial he was now going. It was an awful thing, and a very terrible proba- bility. But the horror of this thoughttwas quite eclipsed by the greater horror of another. Could he hope to remain undiscovered? Would it not be better for him now, at the outset, to explain all— to tell who he really was. He must do it. Could he hope to travel much longer on this road— to go through the tremendous ordeal that lay before him to sus- tain the role of Lord High Chancellor, on the sole strength of his miserable fragments of foreign words. But then, how could he explain. Hisbrotlier judges would not know English. Or if they did, would they believe his story? Would they not regard him rattier as a daring spy in the interest of the Radicals. Agonizing thought! Was there not an alternative— a hope? There was a faint one. It was this. His brother Judges, he, thought, would prob- ably all be cowled and masked, or wear blaclc THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 107 liooda wltlt eyelet holes, Rucb as Le remeni- burod littvlng r-oen Id plcturea. Now, ot oourfp, one of these hoods would be furnisbed him, and If he were to wetir 11 why his fiice would be effectually conoenled; and then ns to speech, the folds of thu hoou would lunko the tones of his voice iiidi8tiiiet, and he tniglit possibly make a shift with wise nods and mumbled words. Thus you see bow it had got to be with the impn. Williin the space of a few short liour8,he had clmnRed from a flcry, bigoted, and uticom- promisiing Radical of the most advanced sort, to a most Zealous A1)solutist. He had shouted out, at tlie top of his voice, what he meant ns a recantation and renunciation of all his for- mer opinions. He bad recanted with all tlie energies of his natur(>. Finally, ho had come to beCliief Justice. He bad accepted tlie part, with all 'hat it involved. He liad thoroughly identified himself with that office. Hu liad brought himself to regard Radicalism ns a crime, to be punished with torture and burn- ing. He was prepared now to preside over a re- lentless tribunal, where his own countrymen, or perhaps even his own friends, niigiit be brought before him— to try such culprits— to oondemn them to the rack, the thumb-screw, the boot, melted lead, boiling oil, flaying, star- vation, burying alive, breaking on the wheel, burning at the stake, and every other torment which the perverted ingenuity of man has ever been able to contrive. A week ago — aye, two days ago, had it been foretold to the papa that be would come to this, he would have answered in the words of Azahel: "Is thy servant a dog that be should do this thing?" Yet now look at him as he rides in his coach, arrayed in his rol>es, on his way, as he tlikoks, to the Mid- night Tribunal of masked lellow Judges, to sentence his fellow beings to torments unut- terable and an agonizing death! And the moral of this is— that persecution does not arise from creeds but from human nature; and that cowards are the most cruel of men ; and skin for skin, yea, all that a man hath, will he give for bis life, which includes, of course, a man's creed, conscience, moral sense, and all other spiritual as well as mate- riol possessions; and also— put yourself in hia place— together with fifty or sixty more wbioh I have not time to write out for Suddenly the career of the coach and the meditations of the papa, were rudely inter- rupted. Torch lights, a row of Red Shirts, a loud wjrd of command, iiorses on their haunches, the conch nearly upset, the Red Shirt on the box down among his fellow Red Shirts, witli loud words and quick gesticulations, and then And then the conch door was opened, and a new Red Shirt politely addressed himself to the papa. The papa did not understand bim, but said : " E Tplurihus Unum .'" The Red Shirt bowed, and then reiterated his remarks. The pupa thought that ho was invited to get out. So he got out, looked around gravely, and. in a bland voice, said once more : *' Erin go hragh!" The Red Shirt bowed. The rest all stood at a distance, in solemn silence. Chief Red Shirt then made some remarks in n very respectful manner, and pointed to the coa(!h as though be wished the papa to get in ngain. Ho got in, saying: *' Pax voblscum." Another Red Shirt now mounted the box, and drove the papa away. CHAPTER XLIV. THK SPIDER AND THI FLT. Hat the Countess and Rosette, Mischief 'a brooding now, you bet I Rosette was left alone. At first, she remained seated inside, but at length,a8 it grew darker,she moved over to the door and stood there looking out and listening. In the immediate vicinity of the bouse, there was no sound, but from the distance there arose noises of all kinds— songs, shouts ond revelry. "I really do think," said little Rosette to herself, " that Freddie might have taken me 108 THE BABES IN TUB WOOD. with biiu. lU ao awfully lonely bere. It ■eeius Juat oa \t there wua nobody iu tbo houae at all." She stood there ii little longer, and then a ■ouud cnuKbt bur eiira— n abiiOiinK aoiiud, and tbeu the tri-nd of light fuutstepH. It wua evi- dent that aoinu one woa approaching. It oiin't be Freddie cemluft back, she thought. Shewiitched. No; it wua not Freddie. It was II female tl;:iire. Tliia figure huriied aion;;, and at length reached the very door where Rolette was aluudlRg. There abe atood and stureil hard at Iloaelte. "The Countea'^!" cried Roaette, In aurprise. "DioMiuI" excluiuied theCouutesa, in equal aatoniahment, if not greater, accompanying her exclamation with a start. She hud not expected to find any one. She stared harder yet at Rosette. "It'aiue. Oh, I'm so glad to see you," said Rosette. "Oh, do come In. I'm ao awfully glad to see you." " Ees eet de Kilty?" said the Countess. " No— ila Rosette." At this the Couuteaa ahrank away, and clasped her bands, while aometbing like a groan burat from her. "De Rosettina!" she gaaped. " Dio Miol" "What's the matter?" aaked Roaette, inno- cently. "I hope you haven't got the tooth- ache or anythingof thataort," for the Coun teas was staring at her like a mad woman, and holding her cheek in her hand with a very pe- culiar gesture. "Aba," auid the Countess, at length. "Abo— so — you uf eaoape — ao dey oil af eaoape. Aba, yo'i sail do." Rosette could not make this out, so she took refuge in a polite invitation to walk in and sit down. "80," said the Countess, "you one miladi — now — ^you not a servant. Aba, but Dio Mio, I moos hasten ; dere is danger. Dey chase me. Can I bide?" "Danger? ohaae? hide?" repeated Rosette, in tones full of pity and sympathy. " Oh, what a shame I What f or ? Ob, do come in and bide, and I'll fasten the door." At this the Countess hurriedly entered, while Rosette tried to fasten the door ua atieaald. This, however, she waa not alile to do, aa It waa rather a complicated affair, ao alie hud to de- slat. The Couuteaa atood frowning, and iu deep thought. " Leeslin," said ahe at Inst, iu a fleroe, excited wliii>per. "I um in grand danger. Dere is Revoluzione. De popolo af I'lae. Dey liuf kill de nobles. Illy. I am lost if I do not hide. If (ley take mo dey tear uie to piecea. You moos helpami." "Me help you?" said Rosette. "Why, of ooiirae. Dut what do you mean about danger. I've been everywhere to-day, and I'm sure I haven't aeen anything of any Revolution. I've only seen a kind of Carnival." "Carnival!" "Yes; only without any maaka, yon know." The Counteas atared, but thedarknesa did not allow her to aee Roaelt«Va face yvv/ plainly. Then ahe wrung her handa. "She la mad — mad," aheaaid, "her ignorance la madneaa. Oh," ahe continued, and fell upon lier knees before Rosette, with clasped hands. "Oh, safe me; dey chase mo; dey elanior for my heart's blood. De Republlouus buf de vit- toria, dey chase, dey soon be ere. Sufami from db terrore of de Republioani." With these words and others like them the Countessknelt at Roaette'a feet. It wua like an Operatic acena. The Countess on her knees, tearful, terrified, imploring; Roaette bewild- ered, hesitating, not from unwillingness but perplexity, while the Countess kept pouring forth in sonorous muaic, her appeal. It waa: Mira, O Normal Al tuoi ginocobi. And so well done was it that if it had been performed before any audience in any Opera- house, it would infallibly have brought down the house. And if this wonderful story of Lit- tle Rosette should be dramatized, this would form a capital and most effective situation. Poor Rosette was overwhelmed with pity. It needed but little to touch that tender heart of hers. By such a scene as this she was quite overcome. Teara rose to her eyes, and her bosom roae and fell with emotion. " I'm aure," said she, " I should be very happy, indeed, if I could do anything for you ; M 8ll« BUid. >i ns It waa md to do. U(J 111 de«p e, excited Dure is y hnf kill tilde. If You moot " Why, of It dniiKer, 'in Buie I lion. I've II know." uasdid not ■•/ plainly. ignorance I fell upou ed linnda. Iniiior for laf de vlt- fami from tiiem the ^(ifl like tier knees, u bewild- ;ne88 but t pouring had been y Opera- bt down ry of Lit- 9 would ition. th pity, heart of aa quite and ber be very tor you ; THE BABES IN TUB WOOD. v» but how can I do anything when I dou't kuow what to do?" The Countess looked all around with haaty »oruflny. Then she turned to Rosette. " You are a lady," she suld, In a quick, fever- ish voice—" you are not a servant." " Indeed, I am not a serviint," sulil Rosette, proudly. " I was only In disguise." *' Well," snM the Countess, "you sail glf up your disguise — you sail lend it to ine. You not want it. You change your diess." " What!" cried Rosette, as the Countess paused and looked at her anxiously. " What ! change my dress— lend It to you 7" The Countess thought she was hesitating. " Dare U no danger," she said, eagerly—" none for you; de danger is for ine— safe me; oh! safe me. Lend me your dress; you take mine. Den you bo a lady again ; and I be safe in dat disguise. Oh I change wit me. Qh! do," she continued, earnestly. " Dere is no danger for you. Oh ! let me baf your dress. Oh I hasten ; oh ! be queeck." As the Countess spolce, Rosette's face under- went rapid changes, indicative of the highest excitement. There was evidently nothing like unwillingness on her part. Her only feel- ing was joy and delight. " What ! change dresses," cried Rosette, at last clapping her hands in utter dellshi. ">To! Will you really, though? Why, how perfectly lovely that will be. Why, that is the very thing I should like above all things— to get rid of this horrid servant's dress. Oh! how good, how kind, how really generous It is of you !" A flush swept over the face of the Countess. " Oh! haste, haste!" she cried breathlessly. "Quick, then," cried Rosette. The Countess sprang to her feet, and hurry- ing to the door, fastened It. Rosette began to take off her dress. The Countess, with trem- bling hands and feverish haste tore off hers. It was soon done. Then the change was made, and In a few moments each lady stood ar- rayed in the dress of the other. Rosette ap- peared in the costume of the Countess, with all her jewelry— all her brooches, necklaces, ear-rings, finger-rings, and bracelets; while the Countess wore the simple, picturesque, and slightly shabby attire that Rosette had taken off. The Countess then hastily arranged her oivq hair and that of Rosette, so as to make eaob in keeping with the alteration in costume. The transformation was now complete. Little Rosette laughed with childish delight. " Oh ! I do so wish I could see myself." she raid. " Yon look like a principessa," said the Coun- tess, giving her hair an additional twist. " But liaf you de cap an' de apron ?" " No," said Rosette. " I threw them away." "Ah! diit is bad; but perhaps I sail find some— but now I moos fly; and so addio, prin- cess Rosettina." With this the Countess turned, and opening the door, fled lightly and swiftly in an- other direction. Rosette was thus once more left alone. CHAPTER XLV. THB BED8— AN OPERATIC SCENA. Now'g the time of fear and dread! Hither como the men in Bed! "Equa!" "Ela!" "Ecoola!" "Dove!" "Qua! qua! qua I" "La! la! In!" "Qim.' qua!! QUA!!!" Such wtro tho sounds that burst suddenly upon the ears of Rosette, ns she sat lost in tlie contemplation of her new attire, and wonder- ing what Freddie would think. Dut out of tills dream,8he was rudely and abruptly sum- moned by these shouts. Together with these shouts thero was a rush of heavy footsteps, and these advanced swiftly. Rosette started and looked. Thenext moment a dozen men wore in the room. They were in Red Shirts, and all were armed, while some carried torches. Rosette was so terrified that she stood there without being able to say one word. There was something about her which quelled the violence of the Red Shirts, and when their leader waved his hand and motioned them back, they obeyed in silence. The leader was a long-haired youth, who no THE liADES IN TDK WOOD. niltrlit hnve been a poot or nn artlat. lie lind a di'iignon's sword and a brace of ciivulry pis- tol* in Ills belt. He stood forward, mill |)oliil- ed at the shrinking flKure of Ruscttc, a,* it wnx illuminated by the l)alerul glure of the torchcn. "Eceola mogllet" heorh'd, In a full, sonor- ous voice. "La Conlesaa de ('iirrrurrrarrrn! Perdula, abbnn donata, infernali*, niUerubllt', pestilenzeale, scelerata, atroitu spla, traditore, e inercenaria, chinara daninata ad iufuruia eternale! !!!!!!!•• It was another operatic soena. Rosette stood staring and trying to make it out. The ca[)taln of the Red Shirts said bis rcclta- tivo nBal)oyo,in the longest and most sonorous words in the Italian liinguuKc, with nil that roll of eye, sweep of hand, and moutliin;; of syllable which we love on tbestage. Itseemud like a bit from Verdi. Then came the chorus: Strophe:— El Agente! Dl Qovernamente ! Sara damnata ! Suspendnta ! Ciuoiflcafa ! Squarolatn! Sara perduta! Ineternita! Antlstrophc '.—M Birbonol E Biirlone! E smorflatal Debilitutal Alia rimboniba! Delia piombal E sol de pianto! Se pasce il oiior! To say that all this was surprising to little Rosette would be very weak. She began to think that Fred and the Countess were right, after all, and that there wasaRevoIution; and besides that, the Countess, by cunningly changing dresses, and leaving licr here In her dress, and running away In hers (a somewhat mixed sentence) had acted very shabltily. It really is wry provoking, indeed, thought Rosette; and not at all fair— in fact, it's really quite unladylike. But how can I tell these people? I do wish they wouldn't make such a noise. It's quite impossible for one to make one's self heard in this din. Now, if Rosette herself had been a fugitive, caught hj her pursuers, she would luivo been very much frightened indeed ; but as it was all a mistake, and as she knew that they were after the Countess, she was not at ail fright- ened, but only desirous of explaining to them, as soon as they would let her, who she really was. She caught the name of the Countess di Carrarra in the r&Matlvo, and this sliowed her the whole truth. At length there was a pause. " If any of you speak Euglisli," snld Rosette, quietly, " I should like to say that I consider all tills vt'n/ rude, vcr]/ uncalled for, and very unQcnllananly, indeed." She looked at them so calmly, and with such grave rebuke In her solemn eyes, that the Red Shirts all felt somewhat jierplexed. This was not the way in which they liad expected to bo received. There was a little emphatic move- ment of Iter head us she spoke, which also deepened the impression. The Captain of the Red Shirts now made a very low liow, talcing oiT his hat with one hand, and pressing theolher to his heart, mak- ing at the fame lime, u speech, in which were some original but very polite remarks about uinilissiino e divotlssimo servo dl I^el. The rest, Millie the Captain was speaking, stood with amiable smiles breaking through their beards, like sunshine behind dark clouds; and out of that feeling of sympathy and habit of miiniory, which is so strong in the Italian na- ture, all ttiese armed Signori also bowed, nnd accompanied their leader with similar move- ments of their hands to their hearts. So that the whole scena now changed its eharacler, and reminded little Rosette of the Pantomime. This suggestion of the Pantomime now very naturally brought buck Rosette's old Idea about the Cartiival. Iler visitors no longer seemed tragic; they hod rather the comio cliiiraoter of those Red Shirts whom she had seen all along during the day. So now she tliougiit she must have been right all along. Of course I was, she thouglit; and what a very ridiculous mistake for Freddie to makel He must have been stuffed with some irsane stories by some frantic and absurd English- men, who always mistake everything, and never can understand anything outside of their own country, unless they've lived away a very long time indeed. As for the Countess, it cost Rosette no dlfiQeulty whatever to under- stand iier conduct. It was all some joke of hers— she too was a performer in this unmask- ed Carnival. But now the Red Shirts made indications to her that she was to accompany them. The Captain made a long speech, accompanied with many bows, and uttered in an apologeUo TUB BABES IN TUK WOOD 111 tiiiiH, 1111(1 niiiilly uffurud lii« arm. Rort-tte uii- (iHiHtooil tliiit lit) wiia trying to not lier to go away, aud did not know wliiit to do. Tlitt fiiot of bur ii|)eiikliiK in KiikHiIii did uot soem to produoe any iinproHslon upon tliH Red Slilrtg. luduud tliuy were fonviiiocd thiit bIh) wiia IIih Counteog, imd tliouKlit timt this proti>iidt*d iRiiorniicH) of Iliillun wiih only a llttlu ruse. 80 the Ciip'nUi tall«4d Itailiiu to Rosctle. Jn«t ns though «hu uudenlooii overy word, and was puiictruted with inexpresxlhle admiration al the matithlesa Bkil),wlth whtcli abe usauuied the air of Inuooence and Ignoranuu. At length ho uouuluded that aho bad carried It on too fur. 10 he tlioiight bti would exlurt some expre\iioQ from hur by atratagem. "Everything baa been fouud out," aaid be to Roaette, "the government la overtlirown. Thu minlatry have flid in disgulau. The Pre- feoturii liati been aeizud. All the arohives are in the hands of our lendera. You are very heavily impiicated, and ail the populaue exe- orale you. Don't oxpeot any assistance from the British Ambassador. He will cast you off OS outlawed. I have received instructions to taUe you from tlils place to the Arli;^Ileria, where a Court Martial is already in session. You will be coiidemued to death without mercy, and will be shot on the spot. Dut atlll, if you will allow me u few minutes' conversa- tion," he added, iu a whisper, "I cau auve you." Rosette's answer to this was very unsatisfac- tory. "I don't know why people will go talking Italian to me, when they must know and ouKht to see that 1 oan't understand one single word. I think they are very unpleasant." "This is madness!" said the Captain, !mi)a- tlently; "but wait," Turning to his men, bo ordered them to po outside, as he Imd to ask thu Countess some secret questions furniahd bim by the Com- mittee. The Red Shirts all marched out. " Countess," said the Captain, in a low, earn- est voice, "sinoH I have seen your face I have taken a deep interest in you— I cnn save you yetl Will you trust In me? Will you answer me one question? Are you guilty in that iierivale bualDess}" All this was in Italian, and of course unin* telllglble to Roaette; who, however, in spite of ills ae(!e()t, detected her own name. " Merlvule," aaid she, nod. CIIAPIEIl XLVI. ANOTHEn OPERATIC SCENA— ROSETTE LED OUT Td BE snoT. Ah, what horrors now await herl Ilosie 'a taken for a traitorl A COACH was in waiting below, and into this our little Rosette was shown by the Captain of the Reds, who felt so indignant at her treat- ment of his overtures, that he decided to leave her to her fate, and was sulking so fearfully that liout the heads of every body, but didn't harm little Rosette at all. Then opened another soena in this tragic Opera. All were stagy— a fault rather in their act- ing—melodramatic, given to moutiiing, and rather florid iu their gestures, and all talked together. It was; Peste del mondol Agenti segreta emlssario del tiranno distruttore de'amici— sia nulla miserico-dia nionstrata— ladra e Traditore lii- flmissima, formidabilissima, orribilissima, odio- sissima, orudelissima, detestabilissima— via a perdizione. Suprimo Judice Rossn—(reoitativo)— (maes- toso e con solemnita) Sia mnledetta in perdizione e perduta in In- ferno Cftoru*— ruttt.— E la Carrirara ! Sangulnaral £ La Sbirrina t La piu Crudilina I Sia dauinata! Cruciflcata! Siaschiattatal Soar- niflcata! Edimmolata! Siamandatal Forto guardata! AllaRotondo! La Peste del Mondol Sia damnata! In Eternita! In the midst of wliich grand maledictions and thunderous curses, which came hurtlins about her. Rosette sat unmoved, looking upon the scene, with a pleasant and interested face. Tlie idea of the Carnival had taken poesessioa of her completely, for it appeared to her that tht'y had informed her of this themselves. Ii's like a mock Opera, she said to herself- exactly. How funny they all look, with their wild gestures. I suppose they must be prac- tising here for a Pantomime, or something a<^ that sort. I think they really are the rery funniest people I ever saw; and why they should make such a point of amusing me is more than I can imagine. They took m* away from the nice little room at the Inquisi- tion to the Palace, and now they've brought me here to make me listen to the rehearsal. At last every one present had shouted him- self out of breath; and seeing little Rosett» sitting placid, serene, and with a pretty little smile on her dimpled cheeks, and with her wondrous eyes resting first on one and then on another, they began to grow astonished, then ashamed of themselves, and then silent. And this change came over them so simulta- neously, that it seemed as though they stopped all of a sudden. Then little Rosette thought that it might he as well for her to meet her funny entertainers half way, and show that she appreciated them ; as she tapped her little hands together by way of applause, smiled archly, and said the very few Italian words she knew, "Bravo! Bravis- simo!" and then, "Qrazie Signori." At which the Signori were more astonished than ever; in fact, quite thunderstruck; and. OS they had already exhausted all their vocab- ulary, they were compelled now to stare at her iu silence. It was the Red Chief who first brolte it. Ha spoke in tones of deep conviction, not un- mingled with emotion. " E un eroessetta maravigliasal" Which means, aa the reader knows— Sliv's a 114 TEE BABES IN THE WOOD. niarvelloiis little Lero— but which to Rosette seemed simply the foreign prouuuciatiou of her name. "Yes, yes," she noildeil briskly. "81, si— Rosetta Merivale — only, you know, I don't like Roaettii, and, if you please, I'd prefer being called Rosette — Rosette Morivale." Upon which thei'e resulted a variety of cx- ulamatious expressive of wonder, perplexity, and indignation at the audacity of this little Countess, and her vanity in thus aceeptin;? as a compliment, what the Red Chief had said in mere astonishment. These exclamations were at length flnished, and Rosette said : "And now, if you please, and if it isn't too much trouble, Ishould like someone to lake nie to my papa— de dapa— il papa, you know," the repeated, trying to make them understand her meaning. The Red Chief drew himself up. He felt that .his dignity was concerned. 'She is incorrigible," he said. "It is time io put an end to this. Take licr away. Let a file of soldiers be in readiness. Keep her till we decide her fate. She will undoubtedly be • condemned to be shot. Captain Giiazzabricco, ■on the receipt of our sentence, you will have her executed without delaj*. Above all, see that she holds no communication with any one!" These words, or rather the gestures of the speaker, made Rosette think that she was to be taken to her papa. And her little heart wofl full of joy. "Oh, I wish I could speak Italian, so that 1 oould tell you how kind I tliink you!" she said, and then added : "Griizie, Signori, grazie!" The Judges stared and frowned. The bold Capitano Guiglio Guazzabricco frowned and shrugged his shoulders. ACter which he ad- vanced to Rosette, and said " Veniti con mi, bisogna d'audare via. Sara tostoal verde." Which means— "Come, we must go; it will soon be over." But Rosette, as usual, caught the last familiar word— verde. It sounded like Freddie. "What!" she cried, with a tone of delight, •• and Freddie, too I What fun I " And rising liirhtly. Rosette threw a parting smile over the company, and tripped out of the room. CHAPTER XLVII. THE wnONO PARTY. Freddie looks, and with a start, lie Finds he's got another party. SiioHTLY after Rosette was led away, a figure .stealthily emerged from a secure hiding place in a remote part of the building, and very noiselessly advanced along the gallery as far as the door that led into the Pattersons' suite. The door was still open, and inside there still lingered the strong reek from the torches. It was the Countess, who had seen part of what had been going on, and heard nearly all. For liPi- Iheimmediate danger was passed. It would take some time for them to discover their mistake, if they ever did discover it; and at the least, she calculated that she was safe from pursuit for that night. So she decided that it would be better for her to remain here, than to seek any other hiding place. Meanwhile, Fred had gone off after the car- riage, and was now returning fast and furi- ously, full of anxiety about Rosette, and not- ing also, from time to time, little circumstances which proved to him conclusively that it must be a Revolution, and not any kind of a Carni- val. In this frame of mind, half anxious, half joyous, be returned to the house, and hurried up to where he had left Rosette. It was pretty dark, and so he could only see the outlines of the trim figure in the dress of a maid that hurried out of tlie door, as he ap- proached. He caught her in his arms, over- joyed in finding little Rosette safe. "I couldn't be any quicker," said he. "I hope you haven't been frightened; but oh, how you are trembling! Oh, Rosie! darling Rosie! what makes you tremble so? What's the matter? Oh, waitand get some wine!" But the Countess held him fast, and would not let him go back. She was trembling ex- cessively. The long restrained agitation now burst forth, and for some time oould not be controlled. Fred did not know what to do. At last he pulled out his brandy flask, and put it to her lips. The Couutess gulped down a TUE BAliKS IN THE WOOD. 115 L swulluw or two, and the wnrmtli of the liquor soon piMietrateil to her ucrves, nnd rovived her finking unergiea. She stood up and drew a long breath. "Now, Rosie, darliug — come, hurry, for there's no time to lose. It's getting wilder in tlie streets every moment." lie bent down and kissed her tenderly, and spoUe some soothing wordi>. Then he raised her in his arms, and carried her. The Count- ess said nothing, but allowed him to do what he eiiose. And thus it happened that Fred carried her all the way down, and pretty ' 'ell blown was that same Mr. Fred when he de- posited his lovely burden in the carriage. Tlnii he jumped in, and shouted to the driver, who seemed to know a little Ktiglish : "To the English Ambassador. Quick!" The route taken was a circuitous one, so as to avoid streets whore there was anything lilte a riot. Once or twice they were stopped, but the driver aliouted out: " Friends of the Eng- lish Ambassador," and they were allowed to pass. During the drive, Fred had to sustain the Countess, and soothe her, and encourage hther overthrown and boiUeverse iu mind. He put lier down, and stood and stared at her with a dazed eye. Then he said : "What the !" and stopped. " What! you tink me la Rosettina?" said the Countess, in tones of reproach, which )iad a world of suggested meaning. " Rosette!" cried Fred. " Where is she?" The Countess sighed. "She change de vestimenti wit' me." "Oh, ho!" said Fred, absently; "and you have her clothes?" "An' see haf mine." "But where is she?" "She haf mine. She tiro of de dress of a maid. She want to look as a signora." " But I didn't see her any wliere. Is she there yet ? I must go back at once and get her." Ho turned as if to get into the carriage again. But the Countess laid her little baud on his arm. "Stop," said she; "too late!" " Too late ! What do you mean ?" "She haf gone." "Gone! Wlieni?" " De Republicani — dey come." "The Republicans?" cried Fred, iu a voice of horror. "I terrify; I almost faint; I tell de Roset- tina to fly. But de Rosettina, she not 'fraid. She belief only de Carnivule. She laugh at mo for my fear. She not belief dat eet is a Revoluzione." At this, Fred groaned in spirit. He remem- bered how obstinate Rosette liad been in her belief in the unmasked Carnival— and how he had come back, thinking to bring reports to her that would prove her wrong. " So I fly— an she stay." " And she had your clothes on ?" The Countess Iwwed. " But why should they arrest her or you— or any lady?" "Ah Sigi I. '' ie Revoluzione dere is no regard for r, ind de low ees not obey." " But where tiave they taken her?" Tlie Countess shook her bead. "Dio mlo, Signer, you moos not be terrify; (ley flu' out she a forestlere an' make her go llberata." 116 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. "LilK-rateher?" said Fred. "Oli no— they'll And site's not Knliiiu— iind then " " Why den she be safe." "Oil no! I'velienid that they are already crying out for death to the foreigners." TliH Countess shooli her head. "Oh, no!— you moos not belief dat." "Pardon nie, sir," said nn En^ilishmaii who was standing near, and had just come up and heard these last words, "but if you have any friends in the hands of the insurgents, I deem it my duty to Inform you that there is the greatest possible danger. I heard the erowd just now, oa 1 came up, yelling 'Mortc alforcs- tlcri!'" At this the Countess sliranlc in closer to Fred. Bud held his arm, turning herface away so that the stranger eould not recognize her. She had Been his face,and decided to keep her's hidden from him, Bui Fred did not notice the manccu- vre. His thoughts were fully the last intelli- gence which excited new fears. The disappointment which Fred had shown at finding out his mistake, the ail nbsorbiiig Interest which ho manifested for Rosette, and the comparative neglect with which he treated the Countessi were certainly painful to that graceful and gracious lady; yet she made no complaint, and uttered no reproach. She •tood clinging to Fred. She possessed her soul In patience, and held herself in sweet reasonableness, thinking that if she al- lowed his wandering inclinations full-winged flight.tliey would return to her before long. And so in his anxietyabout Rosette, and terror fw the danger to which she was exposed, the Countess said but little. She contented lier- ■elf with silence, and with clinging to his arm. The Englishman again spoke, keei)ing his eyes on the Countess, who as before studiouslj' kept her face averted. "They say that a high official has just been captured. I've also heard that they have just captured the famous Countess de Carrara—" "What!" cried Fred, in utter horror. In an instant, tho whole meaning of thosu words burst upon liis mind. Rosette had changed olothea with the Countess. She bad been ar- rested. That he already feared,— but he did notltnow that the Countess was famous, and that her arrest would be food for public rumor. Terrible indeed must be the futo of Rosette If this were so. "What!" ho cried. "Oh Rosie.Rosie, you're lost!" With these words he tore himself away from the Countess and dashed off wildly. The Countess flew after him. "Stop!" she cried. "Take mel Safe mel I'm lost! Oh, stop!" And thus both vanished into the dark. The Englishman started after them iu per- plexity. "Now I'd give something to know what's tha meaning of all this; for instance:" said he to himself, " what's the Countess to this fine- looking young fellow? And what could lie have meant by Rosie? I wonder if there are many of that name iu Rome! Bedad there's one of that name that may be in danger just now. And who in tlio name of mischief was that vivandiere-looking little thing! Somc- ihing in I' e cut of her jib and set of her head seems familiar. Iler voice, too, — I'm certain I've heard that voice before, as sure as my name's Cary. Bedad, I only wish I could find McGinty and learu something about little Rosette." And Cary, with theserefloctions, walked into the house. CHAPTER XLVIII. A SOLEMN rnOMISK. Will she such a danger dare? 'Tia tho rasliuess of Uespairl The loud and i>iteous cries of the Couutess, readied Fred as he hurried away, and awaken- ed a response. He could not leave her In lh« crowd, or foi'sake her at the time when she wa."* in danger, and relying upon him alone (or help. So he turned and allowed her to catch up with him, and cling to his arm. As 8he came up he noticed that she was excessively agitated. A look of distress was on her face; her breast rose and fell with convulsive sob- bings, or pantings; and lier left hand was pie»t'3d tight against her side. " Poor little tiling!" said Fred, as his heart melted within him. "Poor little deorl" he added, ns he put his hand tenderly* and sooth- ingly on her shoulder. " Poor little pet I" he ,. - . TEE BABES IN THE WOOD. 117 continued, stooping uud touobing her cold f ore- liHid with Ilia lips. " No," said the Countess, wearily and sadly, " 1 am uotin— to you. You fly— you quittaml— you leaf me to de cauaglia." 'Oil eonie, now," said Fred. "That's not fair. It wasn't that. It was because I'm so anxious about poor little Rosie, you know. Leave you ! I'd like to see myself." "Oh, laRosettina— youfiif up all de world for 'er, an' see me immolata at 'er feet." " Oil nonsense," said Fred. " You don't un- derstand. You see little Rosie is very different, always Icnown one anotlier aud all that ; she's a kind of semi-sister, you know; only not quite tliat eitlier. Sister isn't tlie sort of thing quite, but it shows in a general sort of way what I mean." " All, yes," siglied tho Countess, " it show de delieatfzzii, an' de tenerezza of de lofe you Imf to 'er — de lofe of de life— dat af rose, you know not when, and haf grow when you not know about it, till now all you soul ees l)ouud up in de Rosette. An' you play wit' me, an' you play wit la Pattasiua; but deepadown you haf de invineibile an' indistrultivole forza d' aitoie— an' loTe de Rosettina alone." "Pooh, nonsense!" said Fred, "You don't understand anytiiing at all about it." The Conn: "*8 stood off a little and looked at him in a melancholy way, her deep eyes full of unfathomable meaning. "RngazziK'C'io!" slie sigtied. " Wee) you affa be a man? Ma, coine now, derees no danger to de Rosetliiui. She nafe. Dey fin' out who she tes an' dey let 'it go." "Let her go!" said Fred. "How am I to know that? Catch me trusting to tliat. No, the bf'ggiirly ragamuffins. I'll go to them my- self and try and get little Rosie out of tlifir clutclies. And, it they won't let her go, I'll kill a half dozen of them, and tiieu blow my brains out." How mucli of this was earnest and how much was boyish bluster, the Coun*;es8 did not con- sider. She was fiitent on enlisting Fred on her own behalf, and in securing her own safely. " Oil, Signor— you air generoso ; safe me. lam Indanger. I am pursue. lam afngilivo. Oli, safe me! " "Save you— why of course 1 will," cried Fred. "I'd like to see llie fellow that would lay hands on y()u,whilu I'm around. No, my dear little pet, don't you be a bit alarmed as long as you've got me witli you." " But you eould do notiu' eef dey attack wik a gran multitudo." "Oh, never mind. It's all right. Don't you be a bit afraid." " But, oil— I am afraid— weel you notta fly- wit' me?" " Oh, well, you know, how can I," snid Fred; "you forget tiiut I ran't leave Rosie?' The Countess bit her lips. " Come," she said, " I tell yon. Come back to de Embassy. You see de Ambassador. You tell 'iiu about 'er. I safe 'er." "Oh that's all very well," said Fred; "but as it happens, I went there the very first thing, and found him an infernal old unmitigated humbug. Won't move an iiicli himself for fear of compromising his confounded dignity. Won't do anything but write letters. Wlio cares for letters? If I went to him now,I know what he'd say. Ile'd refuse to do anything for fear of recognizing the Republic. The man's an unmitigated old nss, besides being a con- founded doddering old woman. That's what he is." The Countess looked more distressed than ever. "Ah," said she in a low, anxious voice, "you af no pity forrami. You af no memori. You forget oil dat you affa say to me." " Forget !" said Fred. " Oh come, now— that's not fair, you know— I don't forget— not a bit— I— I— admire you, no end— I— I— fliink you're the finest woman I ever saw. I— I " Fred spoke tills with htsitation.and without the deep feeling that lie once had shown. He felt too anxious about Rosette to give lilmself up to other feelings with liis usual swing, and he thought to himself that if Rosie were only safe, lie could be far more agreeable to the Countess. "All," said tiie Countess— "dat is what you say wit de outside of your voice — but iiis^ido not aware of it as yet; nor did he understand the nature of his feelings toward her. Only let " little Rosie" be saved, and he felt willing to marry every woman that might aslc liini. Witli feelings of this sort, Fred walked bade to the British Embassy armory. Here he was aucosted by a man who hud just arrived. It was Grossato. "Af you found Mees Merivale?" he asked eagerly. Fred shook his head sadly, and said nothing. Qrossato stood for a moment in silence. In iact.he was deliberating as to the best mode of approaching Fred on a very delicate subject. That very delicate 8ul)ject was 'Arriet. The Italian had already suggested suspicions to 'Arriet, and had awakened jealousy of Rosette in her mind. He now hoped to in- fluence Fred also by means of Rosetle. By this means.he would deepen tlie estrangement which had already been produced between Fred and 'Arriet, and have the field clear to himself. He had already performed tlie role of Savior, Champion, and Benefactor to 'Arriet. He had won her gratitude. He desired more. Her love. Her hand. Now the one diflBculty was 'Arriet's infatua- tion for Fred, and Fred's ascendency over her. Tlie way to destroy that ascendency, was by making Fred commit himself altogether and hopelessly to Rosette. Already his offence •gainst 'Arriet had been unpardonable, yet Qrossato did not feel sure that 'Arriet would ■ot forgive him at the first request, and be re- oonoiled on the spot. "Eef — you— af— not— card,'' said Qrassuto, eautiously, and in a hesitating way— "about Miss Merivale— I can gif you de— informa- ilone." "What!" cried Fred, grasping Qrossato's arms with bis hands, and lookiugathim with breatliieas eagerness. "I say I can Itll you about 'er" continued Gras-'ato; "luf 'card " "Wliat! what! B'or Heaven's sake, man, speak out!" cried Fred iu intense excitement. " What have you heard 7" " I af card from de Republieaui," continued Grassalo. "TlieRepubliians! ^VllatI Where isshe?" " Slie was arrest " " Confound it— of course— I knew that " "Aha!— so— you know dat!"— lepeated Grns- sato, in surprise. " How you know » Who tolo you? An' do you know where sliu was taken?" "No, no— tell me whore, so that I can go and save her," cried Fred in a fever of impatience. " Tell me quick, for Heaven's snkel" "She was taken," said Qrassato, "by de Ri'Dublicani to deir 'ead quartaire— lind essami- nata— an damnaia." Grassafo looked at Fred with (jlose scrutiny, as he said this, anxious to learn the effi-ot of such iulelligenceas this. Fred turned deadly pale. "Examined!" ho exclaimed. "Examined and condemned! Good Lord! Do you really uiean it? Oh! ray dear fellow. Look here! Can't you take me to her, or at any rate let me know where she is, so that I can hunt her up? And can't you come along, too, so as to explain to ttiese fellows who she is? Come. They've made an infernal mistake. I'll give myself up as security for h(!r, if they'll let her go. Come!" And seizing Grassato's arm again, Fred would have dragged him away on the instant. Grassato held back. "Wait," said he. "Let mo explain. lean take you to de place where she ees. But murk, you may find 'er shot." "Shot!" cried Fred in horror. "Shot! What do you mean by that?" " Dey af arrest 'er for a spy." "A spy! What, Roseitel Little Rosie a spy! What infernal tomfoolery is all this? She a spy! They're mad!" Grassato shrugged his shoulders. "Va bene," said he. " Dey are Republioani. Eet eesdeRevoluzione; dey not stop to tink. Dey af no reason. Dey are mud. Mais, you THE BABES IN TUB WOOD. 181 SCO, do Mces ofs iu dutipur, an' 8li« may be shot." "A spy I" gronnud Fred. "Oh, HeaveiisI onn't tlio asses see by luT face what she is? But why do I wait? What are you stoppinj; hero for? Can't you come with me now? You say she's in danger. Come, don't lose any more time. Do you linow whore siie is now?" " She is in tlioRotonda," said Grassato. "TheRotonda?" " Yes." •' I don't know it; and I don't care where sho 1«. Only lake me to lier. Come, show me the way. I'll ho under infinite obligations to you. I'll do any thing for you. Only you do this for mo now. Come unil help save poor little Rosle." With these words Fred, pulled Grassato by main force from the spot. Grassato allowed himself to go. " Well," said he, " I go wit' you." " But can you get Inside the place?" asked Fred, as tliey hurried along. " Oh! yes." "How?" " Oil dey not stop ma. I af de conSdenza— of de Republican!. I ben a friend In de se- crets—an agente." "But— the Countess— how Is that ? Are not you and she on the same side? The Countess said the Republicans hated her, and were seek- ing her life; and she said that this was tlie reason why poor little Rosie got Into this in- fernal scrape, you know." "TheCountess?" said Grassato " Yes." "When shesaydat?" "A little while ago." " Ah ! a leetr while; an' so you af seen 'er?" " Yes." Grassato was silent for a few moments. " H'm," said he at last, "de Contessa, she af took de wrong side ; but I— I af de friend on bote side." At this a feeling of profound disgust came over Fred. By tills confession, It seemed, that Grassato had been tlie very good friend of both sides, which might mean, also, a traitor to both. And so Fred despised him In his heart. But It never for one moment occurred to bim that at that very time 'Arriet might be tliinking of him with the same contempt, as the same sort of double, or even triple traitor. CHAPTER L. MOQINTY AND CAIIY IN PEHPLEJCrTT. Startling rumors, told by Gary, Of the captlvo aecrotary. EvEn sintte McGinty luid left 'Arriet, he had been searching after Kitty— but searching in vain. Ho had gone straiglit to the lodgings of the Countess. The street was hi an uproar. On forcing his way througli thecrowd, he reached the liouse, only to find tliat it was the centre of observation. Red Sliirts were on guard out- side, and others were entering and leaving, lie tried to get in, but was ludely pushed back. Ho waited on the street all niglit, but without result. He had the satisfaction, however, of seeing that no woman was brought out, but tills was more than counferlialauced by the thought that she had got into difflciiltles before became. Back again he went to 'Arriet, and found her in grief still, and no Kitty. Then once more back to the lodgings of tlie Countess. Tiien off on a general search, v.hidi resulted in uotliing. He was in the depths of despair, when suddenly ho came upon Cary, Into whose faitliful ear he poured forth all tlie tale of hit woes. Cary was full of sympathy. "Well," said he, "there's no end of con- fusion, and there ye have it; but, I dare say she'll turrun up all right in tlio end." "But haven't you heard anytliing about her —about a lady being arrested?" " Well, let me see," said Cary. " Ye see, I'm a great man among the Insurgents. I've been ar , ■ ; ve agent, and held me life in me hand all aiong, which was the reason why I couldn't help Rosette; and poor Merivale was mixed up only the smallest bit in life. They tuk the wrong man, so they did. Howand- Iver, let me see. There's the Prime Minister. They've got him." "The Prime Minister!" " Aye, and a mighty neat job It was. Did ye hear about it I" " No." "Well then It was Grassato, ye know him. He was sent as a spy over ye's all — the Patter- K THE BABES IN THE WOOD. son |))irty— by (liu Roruati Pulii'u; but uU the (itUHihu wail uiio of 118." "Tho infunial (Unll!" growlfd MoGinty. "Well, yt''vi>};ol tv) work with dirty tools, go yoliuvu. But lliut siimoiimii isuRoiiinii iiol)lf. Woll, tlint mtiiio limn Kot liolil of tlie Premier, pi'eteiidotl to be talUtig liiin away out of llie city, and drove liim in lii.sowii eoncli, in ainonf; tlie Republicans. Only, I'm tliinUing, after all, that the dirty rle." " But can you get in?" "Oh, I've theentree — I've aoommand among the Republicans, and t!an get you in there if you wish to seeu friend,— and so come along, 1 say— an we'll settle this question without de- lay." The two thereupon walked away. "Have you heard anything of Rosette?" asked MoGinty. "No," said Cary, "not a word. Why — what's the matter with tier?" Tills question led McGinty to explain about her arrest, and tlie efforts which they had made to find her. Cary listened in deep anxiety. "Tliey couldn't have taken her to tlio Pre- fecture," said he, " or elsesho would have been free, and made her appearance somewhere. I believe her fatlier is back again. He'll be coming to me about her. Good Lord, McGin- ty! whatom I todo? ile'll hold me responsible, somehow. By Heavens! McGinty, this is the worst news I've heard yet. She may have been locked up somewhere and forgotten. If they have, let them look out! We've got enough to hold as hostages till they bring lier back — especially two sich imiuint ones as tiie Prime Minister and the Secretary of State." This new and startling information served to give to Cary as much anxiety as McGinty felt, and but little more was said. Each bad now his own care. McG!uly was full of undi- minished horror at the pros|>c(!t drawn by \\\» imagination, in which he saw Kilty environed by foes, and about to full beneath a fiisileade; while Cury had no less horror at the possible fate of Ro.8(M've, lua profound Hili>ii(>t>, lil« fiiHliiuii of lioldiiiK Idmscif aloof from Kvory oii«s only (ti'*'iiKtliuii(!il till)) coiiviollon. A.4 foi' tlio papa, liiH pri'H(Mit itituatlon riiv<> liiiii no HurprUt) wlialfVtT. It wan i-xuutly what ho liud anticipated nil alon^- Wu8 lio not tlic Lord IliKit Oiauci'llor? Waa ho not iiliout t» hold n Court, and prexidu at the iinfiil Tri- bunal as Ciiiuf Justlcf? lit! had ttcuii brouphi hero to (hU phuui— tho Ilolonda. Of tin- Uo- tonila h« know nothing. But this stately hall, with ilHraiilliMl dotiif, wasrxaotly stioh a pl;iOf lis ho had often linaKini'd— that la, tlut Grand Coutic'il CliniuhiM', which alHo iniKht ho usted for purposes of public exainitiution by torture. Here, too, many of the preliininary touches might bo giveti by tho more Artistic Torini!!!- tors— namely, the moro showy applications of the thumb scruw, the boiling oil, tho melted lea'i, unless tlie'.'o may have been some resenibliince between tlie features of His Highness and those of the mamma. Be this as it may, the doubters had lieon speedily silenced, and the perilous position of His Highness was now knowu to friends and foes, all over Home. And so— there stood the mamma I a victim of tlie most extraordinary misapprehensions, both in others and herself. For others regarded hei- as His Highness, while she regarded them all ns emiss<-iries of the Police. She believed herself to be in the headquar- tersHif the Police. She believed that the Men in lied, all around, were the gory guards of tyranny. She believed the gorgeously arrayed personage, seated in state not far away, to be the Supreme Magistrate of the Police. Ttius tlie mamma had become a prey to the general delusion, quite independently of liie others, — just for all tlic world as though there was some moral epidemic whieli was affecting the minds of all indiscriminately. And that was the reason why the mamma, with her cowled face, kept her eyes ll.xed upon the papa, wlio was seated close l)y her. Close by, and yet quite inaccessible! . For, between them, there were three Red Sliii'ts, ull armed, all bearing torches, who liad been stationed here on purpose to M'litch these illustrious prisoners, and who had already re- pelled several attempts of tlie niatnma, to get nearer to the papa. Fully aware of the re- sponsibility that devolved upon them, and the immense importanoe of these two exalted pei^ sonages, they watched them both with muos- sant vigilance and iiiexliauslible patience. Now the mamma, though sore distressed aid aOlicted both in mind and body, liad not lost her spirits utterly, but still, in spite of nil her cares and anxieties, cherished the puipose which had brought her to this. Higher than her own safety and comfort, she valued the comfort and- safety of tlie papa, and while here In prison herself, her chief thought was of release, not for herself, but for Ilor dearer self. The partner of her life." And let those who would point the finger of scorn ut tlie raammn, think of this devotion, and be silent. Now the mamma, in her deep anxiety, had concluded that a direct appeal to this Judge would be her best course, and would secure a more immediate result than any other. Per- haps, she thought, he might understand Eng- lish. If not, it was at least very possible that he might have nn Interpreter near. In any case, she thought that she would have the chance of making an intelligible appeal, of clearing up matters about the papa, and, per- haps, of obtaining, as she hoped, an order for his release on the spot. But, unfortunately, thus far all the efforts of the mamma had been rudely repelled by the vigilant Red Shirts, and she had been given to understand that no ap- proach to the Judge would be permitted. It need not be supposed.that all this had been unnoticed by the one who was so deeply con- cerned. On the contrary, even in his own deep anguisli the papa had noticed it all. This monk, so mysterious and raotionlesi, with his face hidden by his cowl, holding hit umbrella, was too conspicuous a figure to be passed by. Above all, this monk stood in his motionless attitude, earnestly and wholly in- tent upon the papa himself, and was making repeated attempts to draw nearer. Whether these were really efforts to come to him, or merely communications with the Red Shirt guard, the papa could not quite make out, but bis nervous agitation made him regard this as a new cause for alarm and suspicion. Tliero was danger here. It was this: This watcliful monk suspected him! That was the reason why he kept standing in that fixed attitude, with his face turned in his direction — a face hidden, indeed, from sight, yet still showing, in its forward attitude, an eager regard, a sharp and all-devouring scru- tiny. And this only awakened fresh terrorn, nnd mode the papa pull his hood farther over bis THE BABES IN TUE WOOD. 127 faeo, and keep hisoyes obstiiiaU'ly turned uwiiy from this dreaded flguro. But tliere wua yet another. This one has already been mentioned— tlie llguro clothed in tlie garb of Roaette, whom the pupa had taken for lier. Tliis was the Countess. Into tills place, then, the Countess liad been brought. Yes, she had kept her word to Fre(J ; she had given herself up to save Rosette. Tliereby she had risked her life. She knew well that she was regarded by tlie Republicans as the most active emissary of the fallen gov- ernment, and as their own worst enemy; that she had already been condemned; that the only danger Rosette ran was because she liad been mistuUen for herself. She knew all this i>erfectly well, and yet she had come to brave it all. Whetlu'r slu^ could come out of this adven- ture alive or not, she could not tell. The ehanoos were terribly against her. And yet she was risking everything on this one ven- ture. Such was now her wild infatuation for one who was unworthy of sui'ii asacrillce— one who laid proiuised to many her if nhe suc- ceeded, but who had made the promisfe with evident reluutanee, and without thinking of what he was saying. But repentance was too late. Slie oould not now go back. Hitlierto slie had accomplished notliing, and (his dangerous experiment liiid Ixn-n made in vain. She had been hurriedly seized, and bi'ought in here. Of Rosette, she had seen notliing. The Chief and his friends hud been too liusy to notice her. She hud been brought in hero without even tlie satisfaction of know- ing whether her self-sacrifioe had been avail- ing or unavailing— yes, even without ktiowing for certain whether her message had been car- ried to the (7hief or not. And thus it linppeiied that our beautiful, obfirming, ^et unfortunate Countess was quite as full of distress.os either the pupa or mam- ma. She too was alone. No fi lend was near with whom she could communieale. She too looked eagerly around upon the scene, to try to find out whether Rosette was here or not. But she saw notliing of her. She asked the guards, but they could not or would not tell. Then her heart sank within her. She began to fear that all was over; that Rosette had al- ready perished, and that her own act of heroic self-sacrillce had been all in vain. Then, in her despair, as her eyes wandered round, she saw the figures of the Prime Minis- ter and His Highness the Secretary of State. At that sight all her old loyalty to her masters returned. She felt a deep longing to go near to them and express her sympathy. She had heard the I'umor of their capture before com- ing here, and now saw the prisoners them- selves. She tiied to get nearer-, but the guards were on the alert, and sternly ordered her back. Tilt) papa saw iill this. I'oor little Rosett*'! bethought. She is try- ing to get near to me. She thinks I am th«i Lord High Chancellor. She wants to implore my mercy. But what can I do? She will un- ddublcdly be burned — and I— well, I may be burned immediately after, especially if that awful monk succeeds in discovering me. And at this thought, the papa shuddered, and pulled his hood farther over his face. CIIAITER LIII. Stn GTTOKNE MEBIVALE. Hero ot last upon tho scone I Qlad to sou yuu, Sir Eiiguno. WnEN Orassato had persuaded 'Arriet to leave her lodgings he had already arranged to tak(i her to a place of refuge, which, under ex- isting circumstances, was the v<'ry best that could be procured in Rome. This was the British F,mt)!i.>:sy. He had gone there first, to mnke a request for protection on behalf of an Knglisli lady, and found the Ambassador quite willing to do all in his power. Thus he was able to play the rolti of Savior and Champion, without incurring the smallest risk, and of phieing 'Arriet in safety without the small- est inconvenience either to himself or to her. On her arrival, then, she was received with theutmost kindness by the Ambassador him- self, who in spite of his altitude toward the mamma, now turned out to bo what is com- monly called II "gentleman of the old school," 128 THE BABES IN TUB WOOD. quite profuao in liis words of welcoino and in Ilia offers of nssislancc. You miiy be surofliiit 'Arrietcliil not inform him of iter relationsliip to a certain visitor who had disturbed liis equanimity so greatly the day l)efore; and (hat tlie Aiiibassado)' was tlie last man in the world to trace any i°elatiouship between the Brnceful and beautiful lady before him.and the formidable femiilo who had threatened to "brain him with her timbrella." Such a reception as this, was most welcome and as Grassufo promised to enjiago every V)ody in the work of hunting up her parents, 'Arriet began to feel more reassured. But there was ■omething more iu store for her. Among the people who had flown to the Em- bassy for refuge 'Arriet foui;d I.er friend ' Kitty. Her surprise and delight were inex- pressible, but her emotions were in no respect stronger tiiaii those of her friend. Each had feared the very worst for the other, and each now received the other almost as one risen from the dead. Desides, tlie reappearance of Kitty served to reassure 'Arriet, and to make her feel much more hopeful about her parents. They, too, she thought, might both be safe, and would probably be restored to her before many more hours should elapse. The city was full of disturbance, which might easily ac- count for their absence, and yet tliere was no reason why either of her pareuts should suffer ^arm. Kitty's account of herself was soon given. She had left, as has been seen, with the in- tention of going to see the Cuuntess. On her way to her chambers slie liad suddenly found herself entangled among a riotous crowd, who had come rushing up a side street just after she had passed, cutting off all retreat. She tried to hurry forward, but the crowd ran too quickly for her, and what was worse, they were running in the same direction. Before long she found herself surrounded on every side, and completely enveloped In the riotous mob, out of which she found It impossible to extricate herself. The crowd bore her along with them. No harm, however, was done to her, and no notice was taken of her. Women and boys, as well as men, were there, and the minds of all were too preoccupied and too in- tent on some common purpose,to allow of any one taking any notice of any individual. At length she saw among the crowd a familiar face. She recognized it at once. It was the face of an Englisliman. He had been a friend of her father's, whom she well remembered as a frequent visitor at their lodgings during lier former residence in Rome. She succeeded in getting near him, and claimed his help. He recognized lier at once, and assisted her, extri- cating her from her unpleasant position, and bringing her to the Embassy. Such was Kitty's sitory. To this gentleman 'Arriet was now intro- duced, and found, to her surprise, and to her no small confusion, that he was Sir Eugene Merivale. Rosette's papa. Kitty had already known this, and he hvA already heard from her as mucli as she could tell him about his daugtiter's adventures. Kitty had tried to soften the story as much ns possible, and had said nothing about the harshness of old Mrs. Patterson, or the rude- ness of the papa, leaving liim to suppose that slie had experienced no particularly bad treat* ment. Still, it was evident to Sir EugeueMeri- vale that his daughter's fate must have been most distressing, imd that for one, so inexpe- rienced, her lot has been most severe. All tho blame, however, he attributed to 'dmself, and liimself only. Bitterly he rei)ioailied him. 8elf,for having even in any way subjected his daugliterto tills. Next after himself his blame fell, not upon (he Pattersons, but upon Gary and McGinty, particularly the former. He could not help believing that something far better might liave been done; that Rosette might have been placed in some concealment, where she would have been less liable to dis- covery, and at tlie same time would not have been subject to humiliation. But now the worst of it was. Rosette had vanished from the scene. Her arrest had taken place, and since then all trace of her had been obliterated. The convulsions, the tumults and disorders attendant upon the Revolution had spread everywhere, and he could find no one who could give hitn any information of any value. It would be necessary to wait, until the community had settled down under the new order of lbiDgB,before be oould hope to learn TIIE BABEH jy TUiJ WOOD. 1S9 anything about her. Was she still in prison, or had she escaped? Into what prison tiiid she been put? If slie had escaped, wliitljer could she go ? The thouglit of his poor little daughter, alone and friendless in the riotous and raging mob, emed more terrible than the idea of her l)c- •ag in prison. In the latter emergency, she would be exposed to less danger— she could also be more easily traced and delivered. But if she should be thrown adrift upon the streets of Rome, what limit could there be to the dangers around lier? How could lie trace her? How could he even begin to search after lier? When he thouglit what an utter child she was, how innocent, how inexperienced, his anxiety rose to its full height, and grew quite intol- erable. The confusion in the city went on inerens- ing.instead of diminishing, and he could hear nothing farther about little Rosette. No one had heard of any such a person. And yet Sii- Eugene received a very circumstantial account of a certain personage, who had played a very important pai t. The account was minute and enthusiastic, given by an eye-witness. It re- ferred to the attack upou the Prisons of the Prefecture, the release of the Prisoners, and their triumphal march through the city amid the shouts of the people. Among them there was what the narrator called an American Princess, as beautiful as an angel, who had borne a conspicuous part in the scene. Tiie narrator dilated in eloquent language upon her beauty and her esprit, but Sir Eugene never for a moment suspected that there was any connection between her and his daughter. He saw in her only some brilliant adventuress, some distinguished intriguante, or lady poli- tician. At lastjhe heard of certain illustrious prison- ers who had been captured by the Republicans, and were iiow in their hands. It occurred to him that something might be learned by an ap- peal to these men. At the same time, if they should know nothing of Rosette themselves, they might give him information as to the person or persons who would bo likely to know. Of this decision, 'Arriet was informed. She, too, felt a strong desire to unite with Sir Eu- gene in an appeal to the said *' illustrious pris- oners." For she could not help feeling con- vinced that her papa had shared the fate of Rosette, whatever that was, and any informa- tion about the one would be equally useful about the other. Nor was Sir Eugene un" il ling that she should accompany him. He felt that 'Arriet's papa hud been arrested, solely be- cause he had been considered an accomplice of the fugitive Meiivale, and was concealing his daughter from the authorities; and, therefore, ho was quite willing to do all in liis power to- ward restoring him to his fiimily. 'Arriet also persuaded Kitty to go with lier, so that she miifht give her some moi'al support; and thus it happened that ttiese three, like the rest of our friends, were all directing their steps to- ward the Rotonda. CHAPTER LIV. THE FIRST EXPLOSION. Very much surprised Is Gary At the captive Secretary. The ingenious Gary led the anxious MoGinty to the Rotouda, and found no difQculty about getting in. He learned from one of the guards that the Countess had been really arrested; that she had not yet been shot; but had been sent here into the Rotonda, in which place she now was. At which intelligence the two friends felt an immense load of anxiety taken off their minds, and at Cary's request one of tiie Red Shirts pointed out the Countess to them. They saw her at a distance — a female form- on her knees. She was kneeling before one of the altars. Her arms were folded on her breast. Her head was bowed low. In that at- titude it was not possible to see her face, nor was the light strong enougli to reveal her figure very clearly. The two were compelled to draw nearer. They approached close enough to see the rounded outline of lier cheeks, but her fea- tures they could not see. Her head was bowed down low, and she was motionless in that atti- tude, absorbed either in prayer or in medita- tion, and quite oblivious now about external things. "la that the Countess?" asked Cary. ISO THE BABES IJST THE WOOD. Now McGiuty'fl idea of the Countess was that of nn elegant Iticly, dressed in tbe heiglii of fashion, whilu the figure before him was that of a common girl — plainly dressed — lookitig, in fact, more like a lady's maid than a Countess; and so he at once decided that it was not that person. "No," said he, in a low tone, yet very decid- edly, " that's not the Countess at all." "Whatl" cried Cary. "The divvle it isn't! Then all I've got to say is that they've taken the wrong woman — and she must have been English after all. Heaven send that it isn't your Kitty. If it turruns out to be her she'll have had a divvle of a time of it, so she will." McGiuty, meanwhile, stood staring fixedly at the kneeling figure. At length he turned to Cary. " It isn't Kitty's dress," said lie, "but " "But what?" " Why, Kitty may have changed her dress." " Changed her dress? Nonsense, man. What ireasou would she have had?" " Why, to escape." " She wouldn't want to escape," said Cary. " Oh 1 she's been afraid of being arrested, :iike the others," " Pooh! man; don't make things worse than they are. Come along, and let's find out where they got this woman." And Cary tried to draw him away. McGinty refused. "No," said he; "I'll wait here and see her face when she turns round." " Well, I'll take a turrun about here, and see if I can get any information about poor little Rosette. Tliere's His Highness over there. I'll go and see him. He can tell me if she was put in the Prison of the Prefecture. He'll know if any one does." And with these words, Cary turned away and went off, leaving McGinty standing there, gazing at the kneeling figure, and waiting for her to rise or to turn her face. Cary now directed his steps toward the "8e- ort'tary of State," as he thought, in the hope that he might learn something about Rosette. His Highness, the Secretary of State, still stood in tbe same place, clinging to the big umbrella, and gazing at the supposed Police Judge. To this one Cary drew near, and on present- ing himself before the illustrious prisoner, made a profound bow. Tiie mamma turned and looked at him with an abstracted gaze, which gradually grew uioro searcliing in its character. Perhaps tbia man might help her. Cary now pro(!eeded to make known his wishes. He had arranged a neat form of ad- dress, and began in Italian. " In presenting myself before Your High- ness, permit me, first of all, to express my pro- found symjiathy with the present unfortu- nate condition of Your Highness, and to indulge in the liopu that it will be of brief duration." At (his the mamma shook her head. Cary took no notice of this, but went on in the same strain a little longer. The ma..ima agaia shook her head. She was wondering whetlier be knew English or not, and was trying to think of the best plan, un- der present circumstances. Cary continued his speech. At length he paused. Themammashook her head harder than ever. " Me— no— utid— stand," slie said; "me — no — spikky— Italiani— me Iiigelis." At this, Cary started back as though he had been shot. Then he stared hard at the mam- ma. Then an exclamation burat from him. "What! ! ! ! ' lie cried. "Murder an' Irish! but what's all this?" « At this, it was the mamma's turn. These familiar sounds acted upon her like an eleotriu shock. She, too, started back. "What! ! ! !" she cried; "are you a Hing- lishman?" "No, I'm an Irishman; but who the divvle are you?" said Cary. This was enough. At last she had found a friend who could understand her, and tbe mamma began straightway to pour forth all her woes in one torrent of words. Grasping Cary's arm, she began : " Oh, sir! 'elp me, sir. I'm a poor lone wo- man, sir, that's lost 'er 'usband, sir; which 'e'a be'n nn' gone an' be'u put in the Police dun- geons, sir; an' I've be'n a 'untin' of 'im hup, sir; an' they've gone an' nabbed me, nn' throwed me in 'ere, sir. An' oh, sir! there's tbe Police Magistrate 'imself, sir, aeettin' over THE BABES IN THE WOOD. ISl tbere, sir; au' if so be as you ouu speak Hy- talian to 'lin, mebbe you'd be so good as to go over to 'im now with me, au' tell 'im 'oo I am, an' baut oa Hiuterpreter, sir; au' if 'e kuona about my 'usbaud,you tell 'im il was all a mis- take, as tiever was— au' 'im as meek au' liiuuo- ueut as a babo uuborued, and never did uotb- iuk to 'arm a oliild, let alone a puttiuk of 'im in tbe Police duugeous." At tbis, wbicb was all poured fortb in a head- long torreut of words, Cary stood perfectly amazed. Already be had suspected that tbe woman prisouer whom be and McGiuty bad seen, might not be the Countess; and now he per- ceived, to his utter consternation, that the prisoner before him,could not possibly be His Highness, the Seoretary of State— worse still— this prisoner was not eveu a man- she was a woman! Cary stood perplexed, not knowing what to say. Could any mistake be more utterly outrage- ous than this? "A woman 1" exclaimed Cary, as soon as he found voioe; "why, what the mischief do you mean going about dressed up in this fashion?" "Ob, sir," wailed tbe mamma, "it was to 'elp my 'usband, sir; which I went disguised, sir, to enter into 'is prison, an' try to see tlie Police Magistrate, you know, kind sir; which 'is name is Billy Patterson, if you'll kindly mention it, an' I'm 'is wife, Mrs. Patterson, at your service, kind gentleman, and thankin' you kindly, sir." At this name Cary received a new shock of surprise. He gazed upon tbe mamma in a state of bewilderment. " Patterson 1" be repeated. "Good Lord! what next? Patterson! Why then you must know my friend McQinty?" "McGinty," said Mrs. Patterson. " No, dear, kind gentleman. Never knowed any McGinty —didn't know no gentleman, kind sir, savin' your presence, but Mr. Fotherby and Mr. Smitbers " "amitbers." said Cary. "Ob— ah— I see- yes— well, well— this does bate tbe worruld en- tirely, Bo it does, and there you have it. Well, my good woman, Pvegotafew things to ask the Minister for myself— and I'll ask for you at the same time. So come along." CHAPTER LV. THB BEOOND E X P L O S I O N . Hal what figure do I see? 'Tia the Gouatess. Goodness me I Meanwhile the papa, in bis loneliness, as he sat apart from tbe crowd, bad witnessed this scene ; but be bad heard not a word. For the noise of the great crowd rising up and echoing through the vaulted dome, was sufficient tu muffle and drown every other sound, so that their words did not reach bis ears. Still be suw tbe scene— tbe attitudes and tbe gestures of tbe two speakers. Upon this, he put his own construction. The keen-eyed and vigilant monk, thought the papa, was telling bis suspicions to tbe new comer. Tbe danger was drawing uearear. He did not know what to do. He felt like a lost man. He could only resolve to keep bis secret until the last. At length be saw that they stopped convers- ing. They turned. They were looking at him. They were approaching him. Awful moment! The papa's soul quaked wlthio him, and then sank down into deeper abysses of despair. The two were soon before bim. The papa mechanically drew the bood a little further over bis face. It was bis last pr«K)autionary measure. Gary bowed low. Tbe mamma did tbe same. Then Cary began : " Eccellenza," said be, speaking of course in Italian, " I beg to assure your Highness of my moat profound attachment to your person, and my most respectful sympathy with your misfortunes; and to express my deep desire to do anything that may add to your com- fort " He paused. Of course the papa hod understood nothing; but judging that be was expected to say some- tblug, he bad recourse to those formulas which bad carried him thus far. 132 THE BABES IN TEE WOOD. " Temj>U8 fuglt," auid Lu, iu a scarce audible voice. Ciiry did not quite catch the words, but tooli tliem us siguifyiug williuguess to bear further, 8u he weut ou. "I would uiost humbly crave permission to aslt iufoi'iuutiou of your Hi^thuess iibout cer- tain dear friends of mine, and also of this— al> —ah— ah— lady." At this point Cary indicated tlio mamma by a gesture, and hesitated as to tlio riglit desig- nation 'wliieh he mlgtit apply to so extraordi- nary a figure. But tliu nuunma, finding her- self thus alluded to and pointed out, and thinking tliat the siuie had cume for lier to UKilio a direct appeal, loi-getting also, iu her anxiety, that " His Highness" might not un- derstand a word ot what she would say, and too impatient to restrain herself any longer, now pressed forward, and fell upon her knees. "Oh, your Majesty," exclaimed the mamma, "have pity upon a poor, lone woman as 'as lost 'er 'usband— which 'us put on (his disguise to Bud my way to your 'Igliness— an' bun arrest- ed on the 'ighway for tryink to find my 'us- band, poor old Billy Patterson, which 'e's ben arrested by the liorflcers of the Police, and throwed into a dungeon. An' I've ben to the Henglisli Hambassador, an' 'e treated me with ejus hiusults; an' I've no 'ope but in your 'Igh- ness; an' oh, it's on my bended knees I ask, an' will hever pray, us iu dooty bound, an' hever shall be— an' long may your Majesty live, an' here to the common place of justice and puu- ishment. And waa this unspeakable anguish indeed before him, tluit he must preside over the trials of such prisoners as these— tliat he must condemn little Kosette, and then this most faithful and affectionate of wives? His Loowheezer! Could ho do it? And what more? Was 'Arriet here, too? Would she be the next wictim ? Was llicro this fresh horror before him? Was it possible that ho could control himself any longer, or keep up this false cliaracter any further? And yet what else could ho ilo? He must keep it up or die. And yet— why— was all indeed lost? This gentleman— who was lie? Evidently he must f-pcuk English, since he could communicate with Loowheezer. Why not appeal to hiui — thiow himself upon his mercy— tell him all? The papa half determined, but was halt afraid. He liad kei)l it up so long— he had im- plicated himself so deeply, that lie hardly knew how to begin his explanation. So he hesitated, and sat trembling in his indecision, wavering now this way and that, while the mamma was speaking and Cary was translating her words from familiar, mamma English, into unintelli- gible Italian; adding also a good deal of his own, in which the papa thought again and again tliat lie could distinguish the word Ro- sette. But tills made liim suddenly suspicious tliat the stranger was one of the agents of the Police — a Secretary or an Interpreter, perhaps, and that he was now giving him information let my poor ole Billy go free afore 'e dies of a | regarding the prisoners that were to be tried broken 'eart." As this outburst began, and that well-known voice sounded in the papa's ears, his sudden amazement, agitation, confusion, well nigh overwhelmed him. For a few moments, tlie whole world seemed to be whirling in the air around him. All thought and consciousness fled. Beyond the mamma's Jlrst words be heard nothing. Gradually, however, liis fac- ulties came back. The deep sense of his own perilous position forced him to rally from his confusion. Fis wife! His Loowheezer! He knew that voicel It was herself! And had.it come to this? That faithful woman had ventured forth to save him— had been tracked by the emissaries of the cruel Police, and brought At length Cary ended, and stood wailing for an answer. The papa then, not knowing what else to say began with his usual formula: " Pa— pa— pax " he began, stammering. And he ssiid no more. For now loud voices and a great uproai;made them all look iu the direction whence the dis- turbance came. Let us see what this was. Shortly after the entrance of Cary and Mc- Gitity, Fred hud arrived wltli Grassato, and they also wereadraltted withoutany difiQculty. Grassato asked after the prisoner called tlie Countess di Carrara. The prisoner was shown to him, whereupon he and Fred walked toward her, neither of them doubting that it wa» THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 133 Bosetiv.. Nor did the dresi undeceive Fred, for he Imd been so accustomed to see her in that dre8!i,onIy that lie forgot all about the exohanse which she haJ made with the Count- ess, and, for the iuomeiit,(li(l not Ihiuk that Rosette was in an entirely different costume. Fred, therefore, with his usual reckless im- petuosity, hurried toward her, and without respecting, like McGinty, her attitude of prayer, sprang at her, with a lieadloug bound, as she knelt, flung his arms around her and raised her up. "Oh Rosie, Rosie, darling, darling Rosie! Oh, my own!" cried Fred— together with a vast quantity of pet names and expressions of tender endearment, in the use of which Fred was a sad proficient ; wliile, as the face of the Countess, was turned away, he was not unde- ceived, but went on iu this foolish way for some time. Now McGinty had convinced himself that the kneeling figure was no other than Kitty —and had been waiting patiently for her to look up, so that when he saw Fred spring toward her and seize her iu this frantic fashion his blood fairly boiled with indigna- tion. He sprang, too, full at Fred, and seized him by the coat collar with one hand, while with the other he seized the trembling hand of the Countess. "Confoundyou!" heroared. " Youiufernal puppy, what do you mean?" And he tried to free the Countess from Fred's grasp. Fred glared upon him with savage ferocity. "What do you mean?" he cried. "Go to blazes, or I'll punch your head ! Don't you see it's Rosette?" " It isn't. It's Miss Kinnear." The Countess couldn't speak; she couldn't move. Fred's grasp was so tight,that she was helpless. But the quarrel of these two brought the Red Shirts all around, and soon there was a wild uproar which ascended far on high with deaf- ening eohoes. These Red Shirts violently interfered. The Countess was immediately freed. She turned. Lights from the torches around fell upon her face, and both Fred and McGinty were dumb with disappointment. Tableau I CHAPTER LVI. THE GBAND EXPLOSION OF AIX. Here bonoath tho dome of Crosar, Billy meets his own Loo— wheezer. Thus the Countsss, McGinty, and Fred were all suddenly brought face-to-face, while all three were overwhelmed with various emo- tions. But at that very instant, a stern, command- ing voice pierced tlie general clamor, and the crowd made way for some new-comers. It was the Red Chief who approached the spot, leading some others, his eyes looking in all directions with a keen, searching glance. That glance fell upon the little group just mentioned, and the Red Chief looked a little puzzled. Nor was the puzzle any less to those who fol- lowed the Red Chief. These were all old friends of ours— namely. Sir Eugene Merivale, 'Arriet, Kitty, who had set forth, as already stated, and had just now reached the Rotonda, com- ing here, as >ou see, in the very nick of time, and reaching the spot at the very moment when the Countess had been set free, and Fred and McGinty were staring at her iu dumb, in- articulate amazement. Tlien the silence was broken. There buist forth a sharp, simultaneous out' cry from half a dozen eager voices. "Wiiere'a Rosie?" cried Fred. " Where's Kitty ?" cried McGinty. " Where's papa ?" cried 'Arriet. "Where's my daughter?" cried Sir Eugene. And no "one could hear what any one else said. As for the Countess, she caught only one word among thenumerousquestions thus flung at her. She shook her head wearily. " De Rosettina," said she, "eessafe. 'Ere is de Generale," and she pointed to the Red Chief. " I af safe 'er. I am ready to die eef dey want it." And as the lights flashed down— a ruddy glow illuruiuating the beautiful face. She stood 134 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. looking; at Fred, and there was in her eyes the piilLosof wounded love, mid in her ftito the sweetness of a gentle and tender melancholy which heightened her lovelhiesa. The Red Chief saw it. Sir Eugene saw it. Fi ed and all the others saw it. Tku papa and the maiuiua saw il from their Blationa. Finally— Gary saw it. Gary saw it. That face, thus fully revealed iu the glaring light, produced upon hini iin effect far stronger than tliat which had been wrought on any of the otliera. For a moiuent he stared lilie one suddenly stniclc dumb. Then he looked wildly around. Tlien lie pulled the broad brim of hie felt hat down low over his face " Tlie devil!" lie muttered, iu a hoarse voloe; and with this ejaculation he sudiltnly darted back into the midst of the crowd, and took himself off. And now, to the papa, at the moment when Ids very last liope had fled, when instant and inevitable discovery seemed before him, this was the scene that was suddenly unfolded. Looking up from his seat, he saw suddenly revealed, in the very midst of liis despair, all these familiar faces. He saw the Gountess on one side— tlie right. Fred on the other— the left. Smithei's standing next to Fred. Kilty standing next to the Countess. 'Arriet standing next to Smithers. Behind all tliese, in the midst of the scene, he saw the Red Chief, with Sir Eugene on his riglit, and Grassatoon his left. Behind these again, was a back ground of Red Sliirls, whose agitated faces, rude garb, and lurid torches, formed a scene of indescrib- alile wildness. This is what the papa's eye beheld. For a few moments he wos simply stupefied. Then he started to his feet. He dashed back bis hood. He tore off his baretta. He flung off his cloak. He put one foot forward, spread wide his arms, and lifted up his voice : "Hi! hi! Hooray!" he yelled. " "Ere I be. Obi my king alive. Oh! yer Ladyship! Oh! Mr. Smithers! Oli! Miss Kitty! Oh! Mr. Fotliirl)y! Oli! 'Arriet, me child, me child! 'Elp! 'ElpI Speak Hytclian to tlieso 'ere hex- ecutioners! Tell 'em 'oo I be. 'Elp! 'Elp! Tell 'em I am W. Patterson, Esquire!" At the first sound of his voice ail eyes bad turned in his direction. 'Arriet saw hitu then. She recognized the author of her being. She» too, spread wide her arms. " Pup— pa-a-a-a-a-a!" shrieked 'Arriet, and bounded forward. Tlie tones of that familiar voice had pene- trated to the soul of the mamma. She saw the face of her lord. She understood the whole truth ill an instant. She gave a long, wild, slirill yell. She started back, and spread wide her arms. " B il— le-e-t-e-e-e-e ! " Saying this, she rushed forward and flung her arms around the papa, just as 'Arriet also had reached the spot, and was embracing her parient. " Loo— wheezer! Oh, Loo— wlieezer!'" cried the papa, and burst into tears. "Oh, Loo — wheezer! Oil, 'Arriet !" " Oh, Bil— li--e-e-i'-i'-e-e-e!" " Oh, Pup— pii-a-a-u-a-a^a!" And the papa, the mamma and 'Arriet, all stood thus weeping tears of rapture, while folded sweetly in one another's arms. But now there commenced ageneral tumult, and the Red Shirts came rushing In from all sides. A wild rumor had in an instant flashed through the assembly. It was to the effect that an effort was being made to rescue the illustrious prisoners— prol)ably by some secret emissaries in the pay of the crafty and formi- dable Secretary of Stale, the most inflexible, subtle and dangerous of all the enemies of the Republic; and the muskets rattled and banged on the pavement; and sonorous Italian oaths sounded forth; and the glare of torches flashed balefuUy in the air, throwing a lurid light upon the scene; and wild, and high, and long, and loud arose the tumult and the din, rolling up- ward in vast and hollow reverberations, all around the mighty dome, and through the circular opening, and forth into the night, and upward into the everlasting skies, where, it is to be presumed, it was flnally dissipated. At leogtb, by dint of incessant bawling, tbo TEE BABES IN THE WOOD. 135 Red Chief sucoeeilod in making liimsolf lienrd, niid in reatorinj; soniu dcgren of quiet. Ht) drove luvolc tlio crowd, nnd tliiii planted himself, as arm as tho Rock of Gibraltar, in front of the piipa, tho niumma, and 'Arriet, who still were olinfiing to out) anothi-r. All the Reds formed a ring around. To them it was a singular spootaele. Tiie Prime Minister, the Secretary, and a young English lady, weeping in one another's arms! Puzzling I "What is this, and who are you?" asked the Red Chief, in a hollow voice, in which tliere was already evident something of the ilismay, naturally felt by one who is making himself ridiculous. "What is this, and who are you?" he re- peated. The papn, by this time, had succeeded in freeing himself from the fond eml)raee8 of his wife and daughter. Pie looked up, and then allaround,with a happy face and beatific smile. "Somebody'U af to explain and answer this gent," said he. "Lady Carraway," lie con- tinued, addressing the Countess, "you can Bpeal£ Hytalmn." Of ail that company, not tho least amazed was the little Countess; but she came forward, at this appeal, and translated the story of the papa and mnraraa as it was told her, for the benefit of tho Red Chief and his followers. The effect of all of which upon those present ^as— well, I haren't yet been able to think of any word which is adequate to the tasli of ex- pressing it. The faces of all the genial Red Shirts assumed that peculiar expression which is generally presented by one who feels himself to have been very badly sold. As for the Red Chief, he looked first interested; then sur- orised ; then grieved ; then heart-broken ; then sick; and tlien he suddenly recollected a most important engagement which required his im- mediate attention. (From that time forth, the Red Chief lost much of that confidence in him- self which had hitherto distinguished him. He grew melancholy; and who knows but that the short duration of the Roman Republic may have been largely owing to the ravages which were wrought upon the Red Chief's mind by the adventures of the papa?) So tbe Bed Chief went off, and the Red Shirts felt so disgusted with the whole business, that they pretended not to be aware of tlie exist- ence of any of these insignificant pecple, and under tlie di^iguise of talking politics, began to edge off— further and further— until they all crowded together at the opposite side of tbe Rutonda. CHAPTER LVII. FINAL EXPLOSION. Wonders join to wondorg yot. Hither comes our dear Rosette. The adventures of the papa and the mamma had certainly been wonderful, and the shock which had been administered to all present by the discovery of tlie truth had buvu undoubt- edly one of the strongest conceivable, yet, nevertlieless, there were several present who had other thoughts ill their mindsof more en- grossing interest. Tlie adventures of the papa and mamma were by no means sufficient to drive away these thoughts, or reduce them to calmness. On the contrary, their excite- ment, far from .diminishing, only grew stronger. There were several sets of people here who had still a great question to ask,— tbe answer to which was of supremo importance. Where is Rosette? That was the question. McGinty now saw Kitty for the first time, and recognized his mistake. He bounded towards her. Grassato saw 'Arriet, and flew to her side. The Countess drew nearer to Fred, and fixed her eyes on him with an imploring \oo\i.. But Fred turned away. He had no eyes for the Countess, no thoughts or regards for any one. He rushed towards Sir Eugene, and grasped both his hands. There were no words of greeting between them. Each was too anxious. They both spoke simultaneously, and naked one another in tremulous voioes these same words: "Have you heard anything about Rosette?" "Have you beard anything about my daughter?" Each asked the question. Neither could give an answer. 136 THE BABES IN TEE WOOD. Butoach read an nnswur in tliu fauu of tli(> other. Then thoy both shrank back with up- raised bandr* and averted faces. Fred clasped liis liauds and cried : «'0h, Rosiel llosiel" Sir Eugene hid his face in his hands and grcmned aloud ; "Oh. Rosette! Rosette!" ^) * * * * Suddenly n little tap on IiIa shoulder roused him— a light, careless laugli, and a well-known voice: " Why papa, dear I What made you leave the Embassy when you might liave known I was coming! I've " Sir Eugene whirled around. Fred did the same. Each one stoggered back exactly six paces. For a moment they stood motionless— and then — then— then, oil my Ileavens! witti a wild ha! ha!— with glaring eyes, and with ouf- Btretched arms, they both made a rush at little Rosette! « « 41 « * CHAPTER LVIII. THE STRAWDBHHY. After being sore affrighted, Two fond hearts are reunited. As the row subsided, MeGinly ruslied to- ward Kitty. Suddenly, however, and in the midst of his cry, and his rush, he recollected the painful fact that he had no right to make such a demonstration, for he was not McGinty, but "Smithers." 80 the poor fellow had to stop half way; and there he stood, looking at Kitty with a face sad enough to melt a stone. "Why, Mr. Smithers, you seem quite broken hearted at seeing me," said Kitty; "and I thought you would feel so awfully glad." McGinty gave a gulp down in his throat, and grasped her hand in both of bis. And then he stood holding her hand for a long time, with his brain in a whirl, and his heart perplexed with joy and despair. Kitty was kind, and allowed him to hold her band, since he made such a point of it ; nnd this per- plexed McGinty still more, for it lookad like a favor shown to Smithers, and, of course, af- forded a fresh reasion for not telling the truth. Kilty soon jnoposed that tliey should go away. They departed, and McGinty offered •lis arm. She took it, and they walked on in silence through the dimly-lighted streets. "Is there not something the matter with your arm?" asked Kitty, at last, in a very shy voice. "My arm?" said McGinty. "Yes," said Kitty, in the same shy tone. " Isn't tliere a mark of some kind on it?" " A mark ? What do you mean ?" "In other words," said Kitty, "haveyoua strawberry mark on your arm? ' " A strawberry mark !" exclaimed McGinty. An awful thought came to him. Kitty was mad. The trials of tiio past few days had been loo muoh. He stood still, and Kitty stood facing liim, and looking up at him. " A strawbei ry mark," said MeGiuty, in a mournful voice. "No— oh, no!" " 1 thought not," said Kitty, with a sigh. "But why did you ask?" said McGinty, anxiously. " Because I felt convinced," said Kitty, " that " "That what?" " Why, that you are— you are— my own dear, darliug, stupid old McGinty!" cried Kitty; and slie flung herself in his arms. McGinty was overwhelmed. He could not speak. Ho held her clasped tight in his em- brace, and trembled from head to foot. It was tt long time before he was capable of framing a single coherent sentence, or of moving from the spot. " Why, how did you find out?" he gasped, at last. " Oh, who but such an Irishman as you would ever have thought of such a, thing?' said Kitty; "or played such a ridiculous game with a loving little girl? Wiiy, sir, when you wrote to me about Smithers, I suspected something, and when you cnme, I knew you at once. You were not changed at all. It was only because you were so conceited, my dear old darling, about your former Apollo- like beauty, and thought that a half dozen spots had ruined it. And besides, you forgot ' all about your voice. So I let you keep it up, an tal pr be THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 137 aud every day I wouderod wliou you would tiike me to your lieurt again. And oh, what a prcoiouii old gooae my (Inar old darllug lius been making of himsblf all tlils tiiuul" Kitty, CHAPTER LIX. BHTLOCK ANB THE POUNl) OP FLESH. fred is held to bis agrooment, Now tlie Countesa uhowa wbut she moaut. So, after all, tlie Countess liad lieen able to keep her word, aud to free Rosette from lier impending doom. For her message luid been brought to ttie Red Cliief, and tills personage, full of concern at the luistake which had iieuu made, at once freed Rosette and sent her to the British Emhassy. Not finding her papa here. Rosette liad insisted on being taken to liim, wherever he might be; and this accounts for her appearance at tlie Rotonda. She liad come like the others, just in the nick of time. Of her release, the Countess liad known noth- ing, until the moment when sheappeaied there. As for the Countess herself, in spite of the grave charges against her, she was set free not long after. The release of the Countess was owing to several things. First, to the disgust of the Red Chief and the Red Shirts at the whole business; and this dis- gust was so strong that they did not wish to hear ever again even the mention of the name of the Countess,— or of Their Exalted Excel- lencies, tlie Prime Minister aud the Secretary of State. As these last two potentates had slipped througli their Angers, they concluded to let the Countess go also. Secondly, to the solicitations of Sir Eugene Merivale, who felt deeply grateful lo her for her voluntary surrender of herself when she might have escaped. And, thirdly, to the several efforts of Cary. This personage exerted himself witli a vehe- mence that was astonishing, and puzzled tlie leaders of the Reds, who could not account for it. It rras Ca-y to whom the life of the Count- ess was chiefly due. Now, on regaining her liberty,the first thing that the little Countess did was to remind Fred of aoertain promise which he had made to her, coudilioual upon the saving of Rosette. So, Rosette being safe, the Countess, with the frankuess that was oharacteristio of ber, claimed from Fred the fultllment of that little I>romise. This promise Fred had, at first, persistently refused to think of. lie had given himself up to tlie joy of ri^union with Rosette, and had l)een allowing himself to indulge in this joy to the lop of his bent. Suddenly, in the midst of all this, there came the gentle reminder of the Countess about that unfortunate promise. It was a startling blow, and her mild yet firm persistence, was something which he could not ()I)p08e. He could find no words with which to answer her. For he had certainly offered to marry her if she should save Rosette. And Rosette had cei'tainly been saved, and by her. Vloreover, the little Countess had undoubted- ly performed an act of tlie highest danger and daring, and had actually risked her life to save Hosette. Aud all tliis,the little Countess took good care to make known to Fred. How then could he avoid fulfilling that promise which he had not only made to her, but confirmed l)y an oath. Nevertheless, be mada all the fight he could, and used every argument he could think of to shake the ri!Solve of the Countess. First he swore that he was not worth a penny in the world. But this, the Countess remarked, was nothing, for she would be willing— nay, glad to bear poverty with him. What, she asked, was wealth without love; and when there is a union of two loving hearts what pos- sible need is there of wealth? What indeed ? Secondly, Fred argued that his education was not complete. Ho had to study a profes- sion, be said; to travel, to grow wiser, older, better, and so on. But, to this, the Countess answered that it was not good for him to be alone, and that alt these things could l)e accomplished in a far more effectual way, if he had her with him. Thirdly, Fred brought forward the argu- ment from religion. He was a Protestant, he said, while she was a Catholic, and he feared they could not be married. Besides, differ- ences of faith might lead to future unbappi- ness. But this argument was at once met by 188 TUE BABES IN THE WOOL. h an offuroii tlio pint of (liuCuiititfsa, to buinnr- ried by ttiu Clinpluhi ut tliu Orltl^li EmbosDy, niid go witli liltn (o vliuroli as oftou as ho nidUed It. Aftor this Frml \iavvi It up. Ue vnx» 111 iU)!eople lured, were all just as kind to me as they ever could be. They did all they could. They sent for papa, and then took me to him. I never was treated so politely in all my life. But as for you. Master Fred, I'm really ashamed of you!" " Oh ! Ro!«ie," said Fred, dolefully, " don't be 80 oross. You're worth ten thousand such people las the Countess. I sliould like her to go away somewhere, and never see her face again." "Then, what makes you go and marry her," said Rosette. "How would you like me to %o and marry some one — Mr. Smithers, for in- stance, though his name is MoGinty now, or that nice, kind, red Captain Casabiaiion?" " What? Who's be?" asked Fred, hastily, with a dark look of suspicion. " Why, that iiicse, gentlemanly offlcer that took me to the ISmbussy, "^nd to the Rotonda, and was so kind." "What!" cried Fred, with a frown; "that miserable, cadaverous little beggar." "He's not," said Rosette, quickly. "He isn't anything of the kind. He's a very nice man. He's very kind and very pleasant, and I don't know but that I may grow qiiife fond of him yet, if— if he behaves himself." "Pooh!" said Fred, "he's a poor beggar. " You couldn't think anything of him." " Yes I could," said Rosette ; " and I've a great mind to marry bim— so there." "Marry him!" ozciuimed Fred, angrily. "You shall not!" "I will," said Rosette; "that Is, if you go and marry her. I've as iniicli right to go and get married as you have. So there, now. And 1 think it's a very creiit shame, indeed; and I think that Countess is a nasty, naaty,bor- rid " Here Rosette burst into tears. Fred rushed wildly toward her to sootlie her; but she tore herself away from bim, and ran out of the room. Fred made such a row, that everybody knew all about bis affairs, and all expressed llieir (pinions quite freely. Sir Eugene talked with Fred in a paternal tone. His theory was, that Fred might manage to get out of it someliow, and that in any case lie had better postpone it fo" the present. " Well," said Fred, "you see I can't help it. I've given my word; so what's a fellow to do?" "Well; but you didn't know that woman's character. Why, my boy, to marry her would be ruin and destruction. Wliy, I can tell you all about her. She's been one of the very worst of the emissaries of the Police — a hired spy— a miseral)le informer. Her chief field has been among the English, and her chief business to betray her own friends and ac- quaintances. I found out every thing from Grassato and others. She was the one that denounced me. She denounced Rosette and the old man- by Jove there's no end to that little devil's arts. To talk of keeping faith with that womatij is nonsense. 1 don't mind what she has done against me. I consider she has atoned for that by giving herself up and saving Rosette— apart from politics I rather like her ; but facts are facts, and in a case like this, you must know the truth, so 1 tell you she's not a fit person to marry." Fred sighed. "I'm very sorry," said he, "but I don't see how I can go back. There's my word -and my oath, too, on top of it; so what can I do?" At this Sir Eugene lost patience, and in- dulged in a little profanity. Finding the nselesaness of any further argu- ment with Fred, Sir Eugene sought out Cary, with whom be bad a long talk. Gary bad already enlightened bim about many tbings. THE BABES IN TUE WOOD. 130 ingrily. you Ro go and w. And nnd I ily,hor- for Ciiry bod tioon duop In the secrots of tlio Rupubllcaus; while HlrEuKt'iiuliud lieun only thu mildest kind of iiyiiiimihlzei-, iinU Imd never ri'ully been worth tlio iiotioo of the I'o- Uue. Fur tbla retuon, (Jury wiia ul>lu to );ive liiiu luudli Inrornmllon, and hud told hiiu wliut he hud iilreudy (loiniuunlcatod to Fred. An- other Interview with Cary fortified Sir EuK<'ne for a flnul attack upon the Couutests. If lit- oould otdy Induo aer to desist, be thought he might save Fred In that way from what hu h\i- lleved to be "ruin and (le^t ruction." So ho went to sue the Countess. And the sum and substance of Ids vUM was this— that while lie (Sir Eugene) was grateful for what she had dono in belialf of llo.xelte, still the Interest which he felt in Mr. Fotlicrljy, whom hu loved as a son, made him anxious to have her release that gentleman from his pro- mise; and that therefore he liad come to re- quest this, with the assurance, also, which hu was sorry to malte, that if she did not give this release voluntarily, she sliould be com- pelled to do so. To all of this the Countess listened with un- ruffled culm, and flnully said, in answer to the last statement: "Such as 'ow, Signor?" And saying this, she loolied fixedly at Sir Eugene. " The complete knowledgo," said Sir Eugene, " which I huve of your past, enal)le3 inu to speak with confldenee. If I were to make known that past you would bo compelled to give up the young man. I will do »o, if you force me. This is no Idle tineat!" At this, which Sir Eugene supposed would be very formidable, the Countess shrugged her shoulders, and gave a smile. "You arra welcome to my pasta," said she, In a voice of indifference, and with perfect self-poasesision. " By my pasta you mean my counezione wit ze goveruomento. Alia dat refer to you I can say. Primo— de Informa- zlone about you. Eet was alia meestnke — I dlt eet from de zeal. Also Secundo— de Informa- zlone against Bosettina. Dat was de jealousy— to 'af 'er away from Signor Poduirliy. Dat ees alia my crime— I 'af atone to Rosettiua— I not astiame. Eeoola ! " "Then you positively refuse to comply?" Ttie Countess again shrugged her shoulden. Upon this Sir Euge o left tier in despair, and returned to take counsel with Cury. The two liad a lung consultation— lung, earnest and profound. Was it possible, then, to ),dt thu better of tlie little Countess- to triumph over u woinun of such pluck und resources? "She's a woman ot genius," suld Cury. " I had nlver nn Idaya of (lie inflniteu of re- sources— tlje pluck, tlio wit, tliesubtloty,an' the Invlntlveness that luy concayled under her gentluan'ouasshuinlngdemayniour. Sure an' I wish I'd ony knowed her better— it would liavo been better for her an' for me." Sir Eugene listened to this llttiu outburst without surprise. IIu had Ijecome accustomed toil. Cary'seutluislasmaliout the Countess had been increasing and growing more und more ever sinoe the affair at the Rotonda. He now watched lier dealings with Fred and Fred's friends with a deliglit, a steadfastness, and a zest that was wonderful to wltnoKS. For that motter, all were watching the affair with the deepest interest, and waiting for the denouement. The mamma was very severe upon Fred. She heard, with unconcealed joy, that he was being dragged into the marriage ugulast his will. 'Arrlet listened grimly, but said nothing. Slie hud her own thoughts about the matter, l>ut she was too proud to utter tbem, and, thererore,she kept them all to lierself. "Sarve'im right!" said the mnmma. "'E was alius a flirt — a male coquette — and that I hever do desplje. And us for you, 'Arrlet— you ain't got no reason to feel disnppointed— not a mite. There's better flsh in the sea than that one — an' better men than Mr. Fotherl)y a-goln'. You can be a Countess any day, an' that's better llian plain Mrs. Fotherby." At which 'Arrlet looked sweetly conscious, but said notliing. And what about little Rosette? Our poor little girl at length seemed to grow more resigned. "I win go," slie said, "to the wedding, and I will stand opposite to Freddie,— and I will keep my eyes fixed on him,— and I'll stand where be will see me ; and then I shall 8ee,if he will have the face to go and get married to that old Countess under my very eyes ; and if he 140 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. does— niul liero lier voloo grew ])laintivt — why tlu'ii— I'm sure I dou't know what 1 Hliall ever dol" And 80 the wedding day at last arrived. CHAPTER LX. THE W K Yt 1) I N <1 I> A Y . lla! wlint maki>9 yon couplo fiiltor, Ah thoy kuot'l boforo tlio altary And so the eventful day at hist arrived. All were tliere. The papa and tlie luamina. Arriet wi(h Grasaato. Kitty witli MeCtinty. Sir Eugene with Rosette. Fred eaine and gave one look around. His eyes fell upon Rosette. She had been true to her word, and had plaeed lierself In sueh a po- sition, that he eould not help seeinjx her. Never had (lu» expression of that sweet faee been 8o touehlng. Her large, dark eyes were llxed upon liiin with a nielanoholy reproaeh, whieh pierced him to the heart. One glatu'o was enough. Ho did not dare to loo!c at her again, but Icept his eyes fixed on the lloor. The Countess came in duo time, looking radiant and happy. Then the elergynian eamo forward. The service l)egau : "Dearly beloved," etc. At length tht^ elergynir"^ ennjo to the words: " I require and charge you botli " etc. As he said these words, f liere entei-ed a gen- tleman, wlio eanu) up and stood b(>hind the couple at tlie altar. This couple, like all cou- ples in similar circuinstanees, were so com- pletely absorbed, that they noticed notliiug, and only lieard tlie words of the service in a vague and dreamy way. The clergyman went on: "That if either of you know any impedi- ment wliy ye may not l)e joined together in matrimony, ye do now confess it." Upon this, tlie new-(H)mer moved to tlie left, .snd coming forward, stood on the left of the Countess before the clergyman. "Ifc7'c'« ofi imiKiUmcnt !" said ho. The Countess had been absorbed in atten- tion to tho ceremony. So had Fred. At this unparalleled Interruptiou, both started and raised their lieads as they knelt. Tho clergy- man looked thiindeistruck. All present were e(pially affected. Sir Eugene only looked un- disturbed. "Wlio— who— are you?" stammered the cler- gyman. "Timoliiy rary!"said the new-comer; "and I forbid this nuirriiige." At this the Ci)uutess bouiuled to her feet, and surveyed the spiaker with a wild stare. Cary was greatly changed. He had shaved all Ills beaiil off i^lcan— his hair had been close cropped. He was dressed in black broadclotli, and looked snuiotii,aud sleek, and oily, ami quiet, and unelious; not at all like Cary, the friend of thv Ueds, but rather like some nunichard, some emissary or agent of tlui police; or, still more like the confidential secretary or chamberlain to some government oflleial. As the Countess saw him, a change came over her. Her faee grew livid, her limbs rigid; sho made a gesture of horror, and staggered back. "Holy Mother!" she exclaimed. "Hlessed Virgin! Sure it's a ghost, so it is, an' niver a living man! t)h, but it's meselt that's the lost woman entirely, tliis day!" Willi tliese words she sank back, and would have fallen had not Caiy himself caught liei\ But she tore herself free, aiul then and there, sat on the floor, wringing her hands and rock- ing herself to and fro. All present gathered round, staring in wild aninzement at tills extraordinary scene. Sir Eugene alone retained his composure. Cary now interposed as soon as !!t> could get any chance of nuiking himself lieard. "Nora, darlin'!" said he, "sure an' yo wouldn't be afti'r beiu' a bigamist, and marry- in' auotlier mati under the very nose of your husband." At this the Countess gave him another look. "It isn't yerself," said she, speaking with a strong Ii-isli accent, and forgetting altogether the Haliau intonations, which she had so long and so carefully kept up. "Meself it is," said Cary. "Sure an' didn't I bury ye— with me own liands, loo?" said the Countess. "I did thin; an' I have witnesses that can prove that ye're dead, so I have." THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 141 " 'Di'od thlu, an' they'll have mighty hard work to ilo that same, when I can bring wlt- uusses to provo that I'm alive," said Cary. "It isn't yerself," saiil the Counter; "yer some other iniin. Il':* a »eliamo tu delude ine. I buried ye, an' ye'ie dead." "It wasn't nie ye buried," said Cary, "sure, 1 forwariled yi! tiiat eoipse, an' so it eouldn'l hare l)een lue. You see, 1 oouldn'l rival Mala- grida alive, and so I lliouglit wheilier my ilead corpse mightn't hnvea better <'lianee." "Malagrlda!" exelaimed the ('ounttss, look- ing at liim « illi a very eurious expression. J "Aye," said Cary, severely; " Miiliigrida." " Sure, thin, an' it wasn't Malugrida at all, at all." "Not Malagrida?" eried Cary. ''No,'' said tlie Couutuss; " and there never was a Malagrida." "But who was he?" "There wasn't any 7it'." "You were a widow." "No, 1 never was a widow; I was a spinster." At this Viwy stared in amiizetnonl. "Theeomii!' hi^gasi)ed. "What was in that?" "Thoeoflln?" repeated the Countess. " Why, the'e were silks in it, and laees, and velvets, and jDolry. i took theiu iisto England that Way *o avoid the jooty." Cary stared more wildly than ever. " But why didn't yo tell me the truth ?" " Sure an' ye never wore a man to be trusted —and how did I Itnow that ye'd havu themor'l courage to run the risk?' "An' it wasn't for Malagrida, tlien, that you treated tue with such oonehumely," said Cary ; "and it wasn't for him that I fairly broke my heart over the Alps; and it wiisu't for liiiu that Vou deserted mo " "Arrah Timsey," said the Countess, "ye ought to know that there never was a Tiinsi-y anywiiere tluit I'd have deserted ye for. It was for tlie box, nie whole fortune. It wiis that>— an' I ilaren't trust ye w id llu' secret ; an' didn't I think that ye'd be coming after mo— till I got the coffin ; an' then I thought the re- mains wero yours, and I buried them, and had masses said over them " Here the Countess paused. Gary paused also. He had much to ask, hut this was not tb(< place. So be led the Couut/jss away, and us she turned to leave the chapel, the shadow of her presence rolled awny from Fred's de- si)airing heart. Thehusband and wife thus strangely reunited had nnich to say to one another, iind many ex- planations to intiUe. Cnry was saiislled, and before the end of tlmday he saiil to Mrs. C. : "Sure, an' I admire more 'than ever yer pluck, ingenuity, nhrewdness, cleverness, beau- ty and wit. That you tried to get a husband (ion'l fret WW a liit, since you tliought you were a widow ; and besides, there's an offset to that in t!.e fiiet that thert> never was a Malagrida. A \vomnn like yon, is just the wife for a man like me. We can plot together, being both of us born c(msplrators. The Il(>pnl>lio can't last Iinig. We'll make a eompr(nnise, and plot for a fulnre kingdom of Italy, aftei' tliceonsteecu- tionaltype. Bcin'a monarohy, it '11 satisfy your procliveelees, while bein' u free statt>, it'll sat- isfy niiiu'. An' sure to glory! but the tlme'll come whin ye'll be overwhelmed with grati- (^liude to me for saving ye from such a popin- jay as that Fotherby 1 vSo cotne to me arrums, jool— ye'll cease to l)o Carrara, but to me ye'll be Cara! and to the wurruld ye'll bo Cary." CHAPTER LXI. OUT OP THE WOOn— WELL— ALL HIOHT. Ah, at last tlio troublo 's over. Uosio now has got hor loTor. The Countess tni'iied away, and the shadow of her pn'senee rolled off from Fred's despair- ing heart. Ho sprang toward Rosette, and seized her liand. "Oh, Rosic!" ho cried; "oh, Rosiel Rosle!" and then went on at a mad rate, (jnlte regard- Uss of the company around, behaving alto- gether in a most ahxurd, and impmiwr, and siUy way, so that 'Arrlet and the mamma ex- changtul smiles of scorn. " It's turned out so nice," said Ro8t XB£ EWD. aen with U about to harbor that he injured, with them 1 eoh at the )-day that I 've lived a the days of gay 'world- 1, 1 also read led, impress- BW days, does 11 my horned max. Sence BS is a Hirish- Dther, named ;oin' to be a >at for butter- e 'umble'ope I m o - Rev- It is Selling, and Euerybody is Reading It I -*-*-*- STONES THROUGH GLASS HOUSES ; or, Modern Christianity A Civilized Heathenism. A Scathing Satire upon the Conventional Christianity of the Present Day, and a Plea for True Christianity. By Canon Pullen, author of "The Fight in Dame Europa's School." Cloth, i2mo, $1.25. Paper, 75 cents. [From the Boston Congregationalist.] "A SATIRE ON MODERN CHRISTIAN LIFE. "The author of ' The Fight in Dame Europa's School,' that famous little pamphlet which created such amusement at the time of the Franco-Prussian War, has now given us another work in a similar vein, though upon a different theme, which, if not quite candid, and somewhat overdone, is nevertheless exceedingly readable and seriously sug- gestive. Its title is ' Modern Christianity a Civilized Heathenism,^ and it is a sharp and cutting arraignment of Christians on the charge of falsity to the principles of their Leader. In his preface the author frankly states his conviction that revealed religion is on its trial before the world, not for trifling blemishes and weaknesses, which a little correction may mend, but for its very life, and that what is needed to protect it against the attacks of scepticism and infidelity is greater consistency between the profession and practice of its disciples. The exposition of this very excellent idea is mainly in the form of a conversation between a clergyman of the Church of England and a Hindoo, whose name, for convenience sake, is modified into ' Curtis.' The clergyman holds a small town-living in the south of England, and considers himself pretty comfortably o(t He has good health, kind neighbors, and work that suits him ; is able to drive his friends from the railway station in his own trap, and to give them a very fair bottle of claret for dinner, ' What can a tuan wish for besides ? ' asks this type of a certain class, "The story is worth taking entire for its bold utterance and honest tone. We can hardly give the writer credit for a friendly feeling toward the system he criticises, nor for a full and just appreciation of the answers that are ready to his attack, but we ought all to be obliged to him for his reproof, and to take pains that it spur us into a new and truer devotion." The volume is quite as remarkable in its way as the previous book, named above, by the same author, which had a remarkable popularity a few years since. In its keenness of satire, and unrelenting denunciation of theological shams, it has probably not been surpassed. " A book both stro.ig and striking — a book which cannot be read carelessly or dismissed lightly," — Louis* Chandler Mottlton, in the New York Tribune^ "One of the most striking and effective works ever written."— CA/Va^o Inter-Ocean. WILLIAM F. GILL & CO., (Sucoessors to the old stand of SHEFABD k GUL,) IBl "Washington Street, Boston. BY THE AUTHOR OF "THE WOMAN IN WHITE," "ARMADALE," ETC., ETC. IMPORTANT Announcement! (Successors to the old stand of Shbpard & Gill,) HAVE JUST PUBLISHED AN ENTIRELY NEW STORY, Frozen Deep. By WILKIE COLLINS. 12mo, cloth, 237 pages, $1.60. Illustrated by ALFRED FREDERICKS. NOW READY AT ALL THE PRINCIPAL BOOKSTORES. , SENT POST-PAID ON RECEIPT OF PRICE. (See next page. ) !TC. p. 3KS. next page. )