THE *TH U RWESTBROOK COMPANY ^ -EVELAND U.S.A. MAID, WIFE OR WIDOW* BY MRS. ALEXANDER THE ARTHUR WESTBROOK COMPANY CLEVELAND. OHIO, U. S. &. (Printed in the United States of America,. MAID, WIFE. OR WIDOW? By MRS. ALEXANDER. PART /, *; CHAPTER I. A WIDE river, rolling swift and smooth through a fine landscape; on the right, undulating, richly-wooded heights, the advanced guard of a mountain range in the back ground ; on the left, green, softly -rounded uplands, which in England would be called " downs," furrowed at inter vals by shallow ravines, and sprinkled with dwellings some of the better sort each with its surrounding of trees and cultivation. Away up the river, where it emerged from the hills, stood a lofty mass of rock, crowned by a gray Schloss, and at its foot clustered the houses of a small town, the capital of the district. By the riverside, at the embouchure of one of the ravines just mentioned, the mixed timber and brick built cottages of a village were gathered; and beyond, tha dry stony road led on uphill to a residence of some preten sion, plentifully shaded by beech and sweet linden trees, opening on a well-tended garden, arid surrounded by tha fields, yards, and belongings of a u Gut" or farm. All slept tranquilly in the golden haze of early autumn s noon tide heat. The bees hummed as contentedly, the myriads of the insect- world flitted and danced as merrily as if nd such curse as war darkened the earth. River, trees, hills, flowers all fair to see. " All, all, save the spirit of man, was divine.* In the little village of Bergfelde, however, that spirit was much perturbed. It would be more accurate to say the spirit of woman was eorely vexed; for, save young boys and aged carles, scarce any men were left "in tha Saxon villages during that unhappy summer of 1866, when 2 1IAID, WIFE, OH WIDOW? the little kingdom kept faith with Austria so truly, fought go gallantly, and bled so freely in the fatal light of Koni^- pratz. The poor, hard-working creatures, too disturbed to .follow their usual vocations, clustered round the White Pigeon Gasthof and the trough from which the horses drank, talking together, vaguely wondering when the march of the victorious Prussians would cease: already two divisions -had tasted the enforced hospitality of the village, and a fourth infliction was expected. True, the Herr" Gerichtsamtenann, the great man of the neighbor hood, who always entered into their joys and troubles, assured them that a certain indemnification would be given in repayment; but that "certain" seemed to the Bergfelderins very uncertain and distant, whereas the aCtiKil Prussia-it. g-cbbling up, was terribly real and present. Above, Hi fch*! Geriditsamtmann s pleasant home, under tliesliaiiy }irKle.ns,.ca.re and sorrow was also predominant. Jn ..the^CGkrt, .parque d salon, with its highly-polished, Jn- laill, brass^ai idled commodes, Schranks, and writing- tables; its straight-backed chairs, and comfortable Lehn- etuhle; its wicker stands of flowers, and principal table, with a red cover, and the invariable snowy, satiny, damask cloth or large napkin laid diamond-wise over the center; and standing before the sofa, on which is the seat of honor, an elderly lady in black, a white lace handkerchief tied loosely over her soft gray hair, was walking slowly to and fro before the open windows and glass door which led on to the veranda and garden. Her face was careworn, and a world of anxious thought biy in the dark eyes, still so soft and bright. She paused by the door for a moment, as the sound of young voices came from the garden beneath, but her busy fingers took no rest from their habitual, perhaps soothing, occupation; and, with eyes and thoughts far away, Frau Ghering s deft fingers knitted on. A knock at the door of the salon failed to rouse her ; a second, more sharply administered, drew her attention, and before sh o had well uttered " Herein " an old man, who might be gar dener, butler, coachman, or a little of all, came, and stood twisting his cap about, while he said, with so me embarrass ment, "A Prussian Hussar wants to speak with our mas ter." "Helms ridden to the town, Hans. You must speak with the soldier yourself," said the lady, with a sigh. u Do not forget to tell him that we can take but few horses., as the last party billeted here left so many behind to repoyqr. They are still here, are they not, Hans ?" "Yes, Frau Amtmann," ho replied, "some of them are etill good for little or nothing. It has been a, bud business fc] together." MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOWf 3 With a respectful bow he withdrew. 4 * Hans, "called his mistress ; he returned, and stood in tbf! doorway. "Be civil to these people, Hans. The war is over ; the sooner the breach is healed the better ; besides" another sigh" we gain nothing by irritating them." Hans bowed, and again withdrew, muttering an indig nant " Potztausend 1" Fran Gehring stepped into the veranda, and, after a glance at the fair scene which spread beneath her, called softly, "Lisabet; are you there, Lies?" "Here, mother," replied a young lady, who came for ward from between the branches of a weeping willow, a slight but rounded figure in white muslin, with a black waistbnnd and ribbons ; a quantity of light, golden hair was gathered into loose coils under her garden-hat, also trircraed with black, but adorned with a rosette of green and white, the Saxon colors. She held a tolerably large basket in her hand, which she held up as she approached the steps of the veranda. "See, dea^ mother! I hava picked five schock pease, so we have enough for a regi ment." She smiled as she spoke, a bright but very fleeting smile, cone almost before you caught the brightness; and her face reassumed its habitual expression, thoughtful, earnest, pensive, almost sad, with a yearning depth in the clear blue eyes. "A "regiment!" repeated Frau Gehring. "Part of one will no doubt help to devour them. Hans has just told me a hussar has been here to speak to your father the avaafc courier, I suppose, of the expected party." 4 What more!" cried Lies, her countenance clouding over. "When will the end come ? when shall we be re lieved from these inflictions ? It is too hard to be obliged to lavish on our enemies care and comfort our own dear I ones are forbidden to share." 44 It must be nearly over now, Lies. But tell me, child, is all prepared ? the sleeping-rooms, the " u Yes, mother, all. So soon as the last left yesterday, j Suschien and I made all ready for the new-comers, whom my father thought might arrive. You may trust me." " I do I always do, Liebling, You are the best of littla Haus-Fraus." The young lady kissed her hand to the mother. u I will *ake these pease to the kitchen," she said, - <4 and look once more to our good Marie s preparations. We must be well provided for such visitors." She walked away with a quiet dignity of movement Which hardly suited her youthful face and figure. An hour later, and the quiet little village was all alivo 4 MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW? with soldiers and horses, the rattle of sabers and jingle of accouterments. Before every door groups of weary, dusty men and horses were gathered, seeking quarters, and pre senting billets. A party of ten or fifteen, followed by two officers, slowly rode up the hill to Villa Bellevue. The officers, distinguished-looking men in spite of their travel- stained aspect, laughed and talked cheerily, enlivened by the prospect of rest and refreshment, as they admired the view, and augured well for their entertainment from the air of comfort and cultivation which they observed. A few yards from the gate of the villa the clatter of horses hoofs, drew their attention, and Herr Fahnrich v. Planitz, the younger, and consequently the most curious, turning in his saddle, exclaimed, "It is the Kittmeister it is "Von Steinhausen." Whereupon they drew rein till joined by another officer, evidently of the same regiment, a tall, broad-shouldered man, splendidly mounted, although his charger showed signs of hard work. " So you re here, Von Steinhausen." " Cleared off your invalids ?" were the remarks addressed to him. Yes, it s myself! though I dare say I look ghostly enough. I have seen the wounded safely housed, sent oft a report, and been in the saddle since daybreak. Come along, comrades! if this villa is our destination, it looks deliciously cool and shady. Gott! what visions of iced Rhenish and seltzer seize my brain at the sight of it I Come on. 1 So, in a deep rich voice, with a ring of command in its tones, spoke Von Steinhausen, and pressed his weary horse up the hill, and in a few minutes more the three officers dismounted at the entrance to the villa, where Hans, whose whole aspect was a silent, stolid protest against the presence of the foe, stood waiting, by his mistress s orders, to direct the military guests to their respective quarters. " Ach, Himmel," said Von Steinhausen, as he swung down from his saddle. " I feel as if I could sleep all round the clock. I ll just take a mouthful, and then to bed. You must present yourself to the Gnadige Frau (if there is one) without me. Make my excuses; say I prefer sleep to dinner; but at the Abend Brod I hope to make my bow. Adieu! Come, old sulky, show me to my room," and fol lowing Hans he disappeared into the interior, his comrades calling after him, " Schlafen Sie wohl." The room into which the reluctant Hans ushered Herr Rittmeister von Steinhausen was well calculated to invite repose. Its windows looked upon the Hof or courtyard, at the other side of which were trie stables and farm-offices. They were sheltered by the villa itself from the MAID, TV7t>&; OR WIDOWf 5 sun, ntsd farther shaded by a large walnut-tree, under which a spring bubbled up, and filled a large rough stone basin ; its overflow, escaping in a tiny rivulet, stole away to supply a pond in the outer farmyard, where a goodly iiTimber of ducks and geese, with its help, grew and rnulti- I-lied. The room itself, simply furnished, but exquisitely clean; the snowy bed-linen, all perfumed with the sweet lavender which had lain amongst them. Von Steinhausen glanced approvingly at the easy-chair, the writing- mate rials on a convenient table, and opposite the bed a water- color sketch of a young man in uniform an open, kindly I face. While he looked, his soldier-servant entered with a | tray, on which was spread tempting luncheon, and a foarn- I ing beaker of delicious beer. " Gott sei dank," said the Rittmeister, as, throwing him self into the easy -chair, he seized the beer-glass, while he held out one foot that his servant might remove his boot. "Good quarters, Karl!" ho continued, setting down the half -drained glass. " Not bad, Herr Rittmeister ; plenty of everything, but folks a trifle sulky. However, I have scarce been here an hour." 4< Hence; Karl! Do not let any one come near rne, but at five rouse me, if I have not already roused you." "Good, Herr Rittmeister," and soon the weary soldier was wrapped in profound slumber, while the junior officers Von Planitz and first Lieutenant Burchardt after MI elaborate toilet, proceeded to pay the visit of respectful ceremony to the ladvof the house which Prussian office s rarely omitted, albeit conquerors received on compulsion. When Von Steinhausen awoke the sun had accomplish :d the circuit of the villa, and was glinting its yellow evoniv-^ rays through the quivering spaces of the leaves, and touch- ing the water in the basin with gold. A few minutes >: delicious conscious repose, of dreamy uncertainty as to ^ where he was and how he came there, and Karl enter* -I I with automatic punctuality to rouse his master, and Iny I out his dressing things. So the Rittmeister, recalled to the J realities of existence, rose to dress himself and write SLn:e letters before joining the supper-table. The realities of existence had not been all rose-color to Steinhausen; but that was his own fault. Well born, and well endowed by nature, few men had had a better stare; but a dash of fierce eagerness in his pursuit of whatever pleasure or whim attracted him had led him into trouble in various ways, and made him some enemies, and want of wholesome checks in early youth had permitted a crust of pride and selfishness to form over the better and warmer nature which lay beneath. Some years before the break- 6 MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW f ing out of the war, Von Steinhausen had found himself oil the brink of ruin ; gambling and other debts pressed mad deningly upon him. A proposed marriage with a beauti ful and wealthy widow was broken off; when suddenly a distant relative who resided too far from Berlin to be well informed as to his kinsman s doings died, leaving the whole of his large property to the drowning lieutenant. From that day Von Steinhausen was a different man harder, steadier in a sense, and certainly a better member of society. The fair widow made some graceful advances r which Von Steinhausen had politely but positively ignoK ed. and now he had won for himself a high reputation, no*5 merely for courage, but soldierly ability. His toilet finished, his rich Eed Hussar uniform, thickly laced with gold, accurately adjusted, he sat down to write his letters before leaving the room. A tall figure, every inch a soldier s, with deep dark eyes gleaming under black brows, and crisp, dark-brown hair clustering round some what rugged temples ; a face sunburnt to almost Eastern swarthiness, and lined here and there as a man of his ag# ought not yet to be ; his mouth was hidden by a heavy- dark mustache, through which white teeth gleamed when he laughed, as he often did, not without a touch of scorn, and without any accompanying softness in the eyes. It was the hour of universal repose in Germany; tho confused murmur of sound which he had heard when h* first awoke had gradually died away, and profound still* ness made itself felt. After his third letter Steinhauseii laid down his pen, and leaned back in his chair to enjoy the delicious silence. Presently a sound stole upon the stillness like a gentle ripple over the face of a sleeping lake. Max von Steinhausen listened, and then tapped his boot in time to the well-known German air, " When I come, when I coine, When I come back again," very softly and sweetly sung so softly that but for the extreme quiet of the afternoon hour it would not have reached Steinhausen s ear. In another minute the song ceased, a voice murmured some words the listener could not catch, arid then the song was resumed, with a peculiar tenderness in the strain. Steinhausen rose, cautiously holding his saber to avoid making any noise, aad ap proached the window, which was open, in order to peep through the jalousies unseen. " That is no Dienstmadchen s song," he thought. "It is a trained, refined voice, and expressive too." Looking carefully through the blind he discovered the singer. The room occupied by Steinhausen was near an MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW t 7 angle of the square formed by the house and offices on three sides, the gateway and low walls right and left of it making the fourth. The chief entrance was beneath the apart ments assigned to the Prussian officers; but to the right of Stcinhausen s window, in the side of the house opposite the gateway, -was a smaller door or, rather, a French window to which two or three stone steps led from tko yard. It was open, and on the stone steps before it stood the songstress a slight figure in white, with a black sash and ribbons, her abundant fair hair parted and drawn back from the face into rich coils, and the face itself, oval and broad-browed, slightly raised, with a dreamy look, toward the window where the unseen watcher had taken, up liis post of observation. Her right arm rested on th3 rail which defended the steps, and the hand held an open letter, while the left, dropped to her side, clasped a small key-basket. It was long since Steinhausen had looked upon so charm ing a figure. An indefinable, soft, womanly grace pervad ed every line and marked every gesture, while the lacs undersleeve, falling back, showed a wrist and arm won derfully round and fair. As he looked the song ceased again, for several pigeons came fluttering down, some to strut and bow at her feet some, more audacious, perching themselves on the rail at her elbow. She put the letter, with a sort of tender care, inside the folds of her dress (on the left side, Steinhausen noticed), and, searching in her basket, produced some grain or seeds, which she threw to the pigeons, speaking softly to them, the murmur of her voice reaching Steinhausen where he stood, fascinated iu an unaccountable degree. There was nothing about the quiet figure which deserved to be called " beautiful." He had seen dozens of women far lovelier and more distinguished. But why attempt to describe the indescribable? Steinhausen, scoffer and ske: - tic as he was, was suddenly and completely captivated. He would have scorned to admit it even to himself in eo many words, yet he w T as conscious of a wild, intense wis JL to talk with this fair girl face to face, to ask her history, to attract to himself the delicate tenderness which sh3 lavished on the mute creatures round her (one had justj taken a seed f-oni her lips). It was no whimsical, inte> mittent kindness that had thus familiarized them with her presence! Loaning his arm against the side of the win dow-frame above his head, Steinhausen gazed through th-3 down-slanting jalousies to his heart s content, unseen an i safe. J&ife-ttifl vHla was rousing itself from its afternoon repose Souua^x f voices and the occasional clatter of pots and 8 MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW f pans from a large apartment to the right of the steps where the lady in white stood, broke the stillness. Several hens and chickens, which had been lazily luxuriating in. beds of sand and gravel under the shade of the walnut- tree, now crept out and came clucking and chirping toward the general benefactress to share whatever was going. The tramp of heavy boots sounded from the stables, and a trooper with a couple of buckets came across the yard j and proceeded to fill them from the stone trough; having J done so, he advanced a step, and stood gazing very uncoa- cernedly at the object of Steinhausen s admiration. "It is that insolent brute, Martin," he muttered, with infinite disgust. " These fellows must not give themselves the airs of conquerors here !" and he frowned portentously as a pleased grin spread itself over the soldier s broad red face. A large Newfoundland dog at that moment came bounding from the farm-yard, and proceeded to bestow his boisterous caresses on the central object, upsetting her basket and scattering the keys about. "Down, Kero, down!" thou hast forgotten all thy master s teaching," cried the young lady, loud enough to be distinctly heard ; at the same time the trooper came quickly forward, and, with amazing politeness, assisted in collecting the keys, restoring them to the basket with an " Erlauben Sie mir t gnadige Frau f She bent her head in acknowledgment, while a slow grave smile parted her lips. " Gnadige Frau ?" repeated Steinhausen. "Impossible. 1 * But his watch was over ; a bright, dark-eyed little girl of thirteen or fourteen, her fair hair in long plaits, tied also with black ribbon, came quickly through the glass door, with a large garden-hat in one hand, which she held out to> the fair "keeper of the keys, 1 speaking at the same time with some eagerness. The lady whom Steinhausen had so sedulously watched immediately put on the hat, and, gath ering up* her long muslin dress, fastened it in the silver clasp hung round the waist for that purpose. Followed by the young girl, she descended the steps, and, walking quickly through the yard, was soon beyond Steinhauson s ken. The scene had occupied fewer minutes than I have pages in describing it. Steinhausen strode quickly across jus room and opened the door; it led into that occupied by Von Planitz and Bur char dt. which was vacant; but beyond, a sound of brushing and hissing showed that the soldier- valet was mindful of his duties. " Karl," cried Steinhausen. "Herr Rittmeister?" A gaunt tall figure in a fati^us jacket quickly presented itself. "Send that Martin here." * Jawohl, Herr llittmeieter." MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW 9 9 In a-- few minutes a heavy thump on the door was fol lowed by the entrance oi: a* trooper. "Martin, how go the horses? There are four unfit for service left behind by the last party, I am told." "Ja, Herr Rittmeister! two are "still very bad, the feet inamed; one will be scarce fit for much again." Alter a few more questions on regimental matters, Stein- hroisen, throwing himself back in bis chair, said sternly: "Look here! I will have no insolent airs played off. The people of this place are civil and hospitable, and there is no need to make them more unfriendly than they are." The man gazed, open-mouthed, too astonished to reply. "There, thick-head," exclaimed the Rittmeister, "have you spoken so much Bohemian jargon that you cannot un derstand honest German when you hear it ! 7 4< Donner- wetter I Idono understand what Herr Ritt- meister means ! Who has complained of me ? Gott 1 I have been an angel of politeness and good -nature since I came in here, and 1 " Silence," cried his officer. " I saw you just now stand there, like an audacious scoundrel as you are, and stare and grin at the gnadige Fraulein when she was feeding the pigeons." " Ach, Gott," said the man, the objectionable grin steal ing back over his large strong features, "That wad no matter 1 the gnadige Fran is very friendly with me. She didn t mind! You see, Herr Rittmeister, I was with the rear-guard; we did not get up here till past noon ; it was hot hot as the devil ; and instead of turning into this heavenly place, it was my ill luck to have to go on h igher up to a poor hovel of a Hausler ; but the road behind there brought me past a window, and I saw through into a kitchen, where there were baking and cooking, and chop ping and grating, and the Gnadige stood in the midst and ordered everything like a real Oberst." " Gut it short, Martin," interposed Steinhausen. "Jawohl, Herr Rittmeister. Well, I was nearly dead ; with thirst, so I looked in and asked for a glass of water ; 5 with that the gnadige Fran turned her sweet eyes on me, so grave and still, and says she, k Poor man, he looks hot ana weary ; enemy or no, give him some beer for the sake of our own dear ones far away, and suffering, too. So she handed me a big glass, so high," holding his hand over the table. " Ach ! it was heavenly ; cold dew was all over the sides, and foaming, and " His powers of description ex hausted, he smacked his lips and stood silent. " So, in return for the young lady s goodness, you come back to stare rudely for you nad no business here, if y t*ur quarters are elsewhere." 10 MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW f "But, Herr Ritttneister, there is an indifferent supply of water up yonder, and I thought I would draw a couple of buckets, so the gnadige Fran " " Durnm KopL ! why call a girl so ?" "Nein, Herr Rittmeister! she is the lady of the house; they all obey, and call her G-imdige and gnadige Frua. I think her man is either dead or away with the army, anl snd the Herr papa and Frau mamma either stay with her or give all into her keeping. But if Herr Rittnmster had but seen the face of the cook, a cranky Frauenzim- irier " "Silence, Martin, no more gossip; right about, march/* lite man saluted, and walked "stiffly away. "Karl," called Steinhaueen, after a few minutes par.se. "Here, Herr Rittmeister," and Karl flattened himself against the door by which he had entered. "Is supper ready? continued Steinbausen, putting up his writing things, and locking a small dispatch-box. "They are now -setting it forth," replied Karl, with a faint sigh at the recollection. "Good! I will present myself at table; rest has restored my appetite. Made friendship with the cook already? 7 "*]Vot yet, Herr Rittmeister." " Fire away, then! I want particulars about the family." "The Herr is Gerichtsamtmann of the district, and r interrupted the imprudent Karl. "Hold thy foolish tongue! 1 cried his master; "know that. Find "out for me who this is," pointing to the por trait above described. " Who who the lady of the house ir- the young lady or in short, for once in thy life be intelligent and carry out the spirit of thy orders!" So saying, Steinhausen left the room, and clattered down-stairs, his saber clanking behind him. " Ach Himmel!" said Karl, gazing after him, perplexed, and drawing the blacking-brush he had brought with him, when he ran at his master s call, across his nose. "How ne get particulars without asking questions ? and \vl:;iJ; i.-j> the use ot questions when none will answer T CHAPTER II. THE house seemed empty. When Von Steinhausen reached the parterre which was occupied by the receptipu- y -oin.s, not a creature was to be seen. However, nothing i:.(sunt*Ml, he opened a door; it was evidently that of "Herr } apa s study," or business-room, and contained a large Writing- table, heaps of papers, book-shelves laden with F, ii .ber, solid-looking volumes, a lamp with a green shade, etc. Steinhausen, turning sharply away and shutting tho MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW f 1"! door, was met face to face by a neat little Stubenmacl- chen," with the pretty, characteristic apron, the "Latz- chen," or bib part, fastened to the bosom with ornamental pins, a coquettish muslin and lace cap partly concealing her flaxen hair. 4t Ach! Bitte! die Herrschaft (honorable company) are all out in the garden, or the fields, she said, with the true Saxon sing-song. " If the * Gnadiger Herr will take a seat in the salon they will soon return, or by here " throwing I open the door and pointing to that leading to the veranda " he can into the garden and allees descend." Steinhauseii, with a quick " Danke sehr," entered, and, as the door closed behind him, stood a moment irresolute in the middle of the cool, fragrant room, which had some thing gracefully homelike in its simplicity. But Sfcem- hausen s irresolute moments were usually of short dura tion. The coast being clear, he said to himself: "It is permissible in an enemy s country to reconnoiter," an I glancing round he very deliberately proceeded to examine the books, a number of which were piled on an oval tab j Eushed into a corner under a bracket which supported i ust. Among the volumes were some French memoirs, several English novels and books of travel, German poetry, etc. ; some English newspapers, too, lay about. Steiii- hausen, not being familiar with the language, turned fro:,i them with a slightly contemptuous expression of surpri>-3 in his upraised brows. Near the sofa stood another table, with a beautiful Meissen china dish, full of sweet flowers* and round it lay four or five photograph albums of various eizes. 4i Ha!" said Stoinhausen, almost aloud, as he caught eight of them. kk Here, no doubt, lies a clew to the family history," and drawing a chair to the table, he began h^ inspection. No. 1, a large book, was full of landscapes ai.I street views, all adorned by prettily designed borders or frames neatly drawn. No. 2 was a very varied collection of portraits, principally of young girls and children, many with signatures foreign names predominating; there wi * also a fair sprinkling of men, old and young, with an 1 without uniform. ** Now I have it," he thought, as lia opened No. 3, and in the first page recognized the strong resemblance between, a bright-looking elderly gentleman and the bust on the bracket. " This is the family book. * He was quite absorbed. Soon he found out the little girl he had seen speaking with the object of his curiosity. And then the Fraulein, or Frau, herself, in deepest black, witiz. the saddest expression ; but that graceful turn of the nee > n<J shoulder! he would know it among a thousand! Further On was another portrait of her. different yet not younger looking, less depth, less intellect in the face^ 12 MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW f the longer he looked the more he perceived the. change which had taken place since this picture had been taken, or perhaps it was a bad photograph. But who is this on the opposite page, smiling at her with all his might ? The same officer whose likeness hung in his (Steinhausen s) room, only older and less simple-looking. * Pooh! quite a common style of fellow." To winch opinion the Bitt- meister was guided by a strong feeling of unaccountable dislike rather than sound judgment. Another officer was also to be frequently seen at all stages, from a cadet to first lieutenant. His resemblance to the young ladies was suf ficiently marked to suggest his brotherhood. "I wonder is she Maid, Wife, or Widow?" exclaimed Steinhausen., clasping the book with an impatient snap. i Bah ! What is it to me?" He rose, and saw by a clock on the console at the end of the room that he had been ceeu- Eied with the photographs for nearly three-quarters of an. our, and so completely, that he had not heard a very light footfall, or perceived a small figure that had stolen through the veranda to peep at the Prussian, just as he had closed the book with the foregoing exclamation. " This is slow work," he thought. " I will see what is to be found in the garden." Whereupon he descended the steps and walked away down the first allee which presented itself. Meantime the quiet of the entrance court was broken by the unwonted appearance of an open carriage, driven by an evidently hired driver, and drawn by two weary, droop ing horses, the whole, as well as the two ladies who sat therein, covered with dust. As they stopped at the open door, Hans came fortLi to answer their eager demand f or " Herr Gerichtsamtmann. 7 Gone out!" screamed the elder lady. "Why, I was told at the Gerichtsamt in Pirna that he must be at the villa, as he had not been in town to-day, and wearied as we are, by a long railway journey, we hired a carriage and came on. I really must see Herr Gerielitsamtmanu." Hans was not a little overwhelmed by this attack ; he was willing to do the impossible at the command of so great a lady, but with the best of wills he could not evoke the Gerichtsamtmann from space. So, as the next best thing, he humbly suggested an intervie\v with the Fraa Amtmann. This amende was not graciously accepted, and the ladies alighting, permitted Hans to usher them into the Herr Amtxuaim s Arbeitzimmer, or study, while he sought his mistress, and announced that Frau Baronin and Fraulein von Wutheaau wished to speak wifch her. Frau Gherkin, by no means overpowered by these specimens of MAID, WIFE, On WIDOW? 13 although they declared themselves Prussian to boot, ex plained that she expected her husband s return every mo- usent, and begged they Would repose themselves till he came, offering them a Dresden morning paper, and clearing a crowd of books and documents irom a very comfortable easy-chair, that the Fran Baronin might rest after her long drive. Meantime the sound of voices, which he recognized as his brother officers , led Steinhausen from one part of tho garden to the other, and at last he came up with them just as they were called into supper by the smart little maiden who had shown him into the salon. " So you are awake onco more, Ilerr Kittrrieister " said Lieutenant Burchardt. "How ?" said Steinhausen, shortly. "The eldest daughter is a most charming creature ;i littje stiff and too coldly polite," said Burchardt. " Dignified, you mean," corrected the Fahnrieh. "Well, deucediy uncommunicative," continued Burch ardt. "At all events, the Frau mamma seems too cast down to take part in anything, so after coffee the Fraulein asked us if we should not like to walk round the garden, conducted us to tho first ailee, and with a polite excuse, left us." "We have read all the papers we could find, gone round to the stables, made friends with a bright little * Bachfisch- chen (school -girl), and now are at the end of our resources. So come along to supper." " Fraulein 1" repeated Steinhausen. <; Is this protninenfc personage, then, unmarried ?" <l l suppose so," said the lieutenant, shrugging liia shoulders, "though she is a little too grave and selt -pos- seftbed for a young maiden. No matter to supper, com rades, to supper." The three officers ascended, the steps, and passing through tho salon to the dining-room, the doors of which wero cpcn, made their bows to the lady of the house, to whom Burchardt presented Von Steinhausen. With a brief apology for his non-appearance at dinner, the Kittmeister looked round as if to find his place, but i i vain; only Frau Gheriug and the little girl ho hail seen iu tho courtyard were present. " Here, Herr Rittmeisler," cried the latter, with an air oi much iinportaiiuo, " pieaiso sit here between Lies an4 papa." "My husband was unfortunately .calltd away to U MAID, WIFE, OR WJDOWf distance tliis morning," observed Frau Ghering, "but w(, expect him for supper." The Eittmeister bowed, and took his appointed seat with t^acrity. In another moment the object of his thoughts xvould be beside him, and a dozen opportunities must occur, More the evening meal was over, for satisfying his curiosity. The same homelike charm which pervaded the housa r,nd household was perceptible in the salle a manger. Its pale gray walls, relieved by the warm red drapery of the <: artains the table, tempting from the fineness and white ness of the Lausitz damask table-linen the brightness of t:ie silver, the delicate forms of the Meissen china, and the group of field-flowers, which shed a simple beauty over all, struck the Prussians as elegant beyond what could have been expected in the neighborhood of an obscure Saxon country town. As Steinhnusen took in these details while unfolding his rapkin, the door leading to the corridor was opened by Lies, who ushered in two ladies in fashionable traveling dresses, saying as she did so: "My mother, these ladiea have waited so long that I have persuaded them to join us at supper." Fran Ghering rose, and proceeded to go through the in troductions inevitable in Germany on such an occasion. T%o sooner was the name of Yon Steinhausen pronounced than the elder of the two ladies, with much animation, exclaimed: "I have surely had the honor of meeting Kerr .Eittmeister last winter in Berlin, at the Grafin von C s3" " No doubt I have had that honor," returned Steinhau- 82ii, carelessly, as he watched the movements of Lies. "Pray sit here," s;dd that young lady, with distracting politeness, drawing back the chair destined for herself; dropping a a light courtesy at her mother s passing ci .iction, " My daughter, Eferr Eittmeister," led the younger JL nest to a seat opposite, next to Lieutenant Burchardfc. 14 Lies," said Frau Ghering, " thou hadst better take thy father s seat until he comes." L> Yes, dear mother;" and she placed herself accordingly, vritli a glance of suppressed mirth and covert meaning to her younger sister which indicated more of mundane feel- ing than her calm, nuiilike bearing would have suggested. Hut Steinhausen missed this momentary revelation. He was helping himself, in deepest wrath, to some excellent roasfc hare, and giving the shortest possible answers to tlia Frau Baronin s Fashionable reminiscences. MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW? 15 At the opposite side, Fraulein von Wuthenau sat be tween Burchardt and VonPlanitz, whose neighbor, the little Bachfischchen Clara or, more generally, "Clarchen" found it hard to oppose a cold reserve, becoming the con quered but unsubdued," to the frank, merry talk of her companion, himself a mere boy. Burchardt meantime made himself exceedingly ridicu lous (Steinhausen thought) by his almost troublesome at tentions to, and persistent attempts to converse with, the fair Fraulein or Frau at the foot of the table. (Steinhausen observed she wore a wedding or engagement ring.) Burchardt was a genial, jovial soul, much given to l>eer and tobacco, and not without some sense of humor. His devotion to one neighbor and negligence of the other struck the Baronin also as offensively foolish. And the Ritt- meister too ! She had heard he was a hard, selfish creature, but scarcely expected to find him so bearish. "The gnadige Frau is a great student," said Burchardt, getting down his beer-glass after a deep draught, and again turning to the daughter of the house. He had called her Fraulein first, and Steinhausen listened sharply for her re ply, but when it came she took no notice of the change of epithet. "I see books in all languages yonder on your table." " A country life would be dull without some such pur suit," she replied. "Doubtless," put in the Baronin, contemptuously. " "Without the advantage of occasional residence in a capi tal like Berlin, and contact with well-bred society, the fac ulties are apt to rust." "We command the highest class of society here," said the young lady, tranquilly. " Indeed! Pardon me, if I ask where is it to be found? I could see no great residences as I drove here to-day : of whom may this high-class society consist?" "Gentlemen named Goethe, Schiller, and Macaulay; ladies known as Burow, Madame de Stael and Madame George Eliot." "Dear young lady! your answer, excuse me, betrays the rustic! 1 remarked the Baronin, with infinite conceit. "Very likely," returned Lies, indifferently, but with a ernile and glance so sweetly arch that for a moment she looked quite beautiful ; moreover, both were directed to Steinhausen of whom she had hitherto taken not the slightest notice with an irresistible consciousness that he was on her side. The effect on the Rittmeister was electric : his eyes met hers with a bold admiration almost startling, ad certainly uot agreeable to its object. J6 MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW? "If being a rustic insures good taste," he said, "I should be inclined to beat my sword into a plowshare." 64 Bah! mein HeberCamerad! Where is your perception?" cried Burchardt, 4t to accept the Frauleiii s description of herself as a rustic ! One can well see she has known a wider worjdthan Bergfelde." "Oh! yes," broke in Clarchen. "My sister has been in Dresden, and so have I ; but she has been in. Vienna, too, and also to England." "1 trust, then," said Von Planitz, gallantly, "that the gymdige Fraulein will come for a season to Berlin. The co art festivities are, oh ! the most beautiful, the gayest I Just before the war Her Majesty gave a superb fancy ball. I was one of the pages of honor, and held her train: mine was a medieval costume blue velvet slashed with white satin and laced with silver ; my mother lent me her diamond aigrette for " " Bhe should have added her apron," growled the Kitt- xneister. Yon Planitz blushed vividly for a warrior and a con queror, and Clarchen came generously to the rescue. " I dare say you would have been very glaxl to have an aigrette yourself, Herr Eittmeister, had you been asked to the ball," she said, saucily. " Clarchen,v said the warning voice of the elder sister; Von Steinhausen laughed good-humoredly. "Well, now we are all united," resumed the young Fabnrich, " I do hope the Fraulein will come to Berlin, and see something of the court gayeties," "Oh! at Berlin. No: I do not think we can ever go there 3 even to our own court we ca"nnot go only papa and my brother. Isit not funny ! Mamma," continued the chat terbox, " used to go to court, and now she is married she cannot; that does not seem quite fair." Then noble Frauleins should wed with nobles, and not forfeit their privileges," put in the Baronin, impatient to catch the ball of conversation, and speaking with a tone o superior virtue, Clarchen was opening her mouth to re ply, when her sister asked her to pass the salad, with a glance of remonstrance which silenced her for a few mo ments. No one taking up the thread of the discourse, Frau von Wuthenau continued : " In these days it is neces sary to draw the line more strictly than ever. You re member, Bertha," addressing her daughter, "what a struggle Graf K. made to have his Englisli wife received^ and ane was almost noble only her people never went to the English court.." " Yes," returned the young Baroneesa, " Graf K. was an taothusiast, and they say tinged with democratic ideas. MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW f If Bid he not quit Berlin, and abjures the court because th G-rafm was not admitted?" 41 They said so. but I scarce believe it." " He acted like a man of sense and spirit," remarked the young lady, whom, in the uncertainty as to her surname, we must i call "Lies" she had hitherto been silent except to utter the small necessary civilities of the table. " A.ch Gott!" cried the Baronin, we have revolutionists here, too." "And a dangerous one," observed Steinhausen, with a Blight and utterly unnoticed bow. " No, guadige Frau!" said the lady of the house, quickly. " We ladies are no politicians, and my husband is a strict upholder of law and government." " Nor do we care much to go to court," cried Clsrohen; "our dear Princess Margarethe told me herself that the balls are tiresome; buttho water parties to beautiful Pill- nitz sometimes late in the evening in illuminated gondo lasthey must be delightful. The Hohen Herrschaften all fieem so merry and bright, and the princess says they are better than many balls." " The Princess Margarethe!" almost screamed the noble young lady opposite. "Where did you speak to her?" a most uncomplimentary emphasis on the "you." "Here, Fraulein v. Wuthenau," returned Clarchen, with a little nod of perfect contentment. The royal fa mily, often the good king himself, come here every sum mer once or twice to enjoy the view from our balcony, so when the princess was visiting her grandparents, she, too, came." " It seems, then," said Lieutenant Burchardt, helping himself to a third edition of roast hare, "that their Majes ties of Saxony are also revolutionary. Gott I I am not as tonished, meine Gnadige, if you give them such heavenly beer as this," and he dipped his mustache into the foam- ing goblet beside him. * We did not know how fair and rich a land this Saxony is until we tasted its benefits," said young Von Planitz gal lantly. " Pray, Herr Bittmeister," resumed the Baronin, " which, of our troops were engaged at Gitschin? Had the th regiment many losses?" I ha.ve two nephews among the wounded ono is scarcely expected to recover, and his un happy mother had had no opportunity of bidding him fare* fvolr before the regiment marched to Koniggratz." At this name Frau Ghering moved somewhat restlessly, and glanced at her daughter, whoso color rose visibly and becomingly^. " Nevertheless," eaid the noble Fraulein, with a rathe* IS MAID. WIFE, OR WIDOWf Foiitiraental up-turning of the eyes, " lie fell gloriously foi his Fatherland, and in the arms of victory." "Ah I" cried Burchardt, "it has been a sharp, short affair, this Bohemian campaign, and must prove to th enemies of Prussia " 44 The folly of adhering to obsolete treaties with effete allies," put in Steinhausen, contemptuously. " Better write * All is lost, save honor, after our fruitiest struggle, than break faith once pledged," murmured Lies; hut the loud babble of voices which arose, each rehearsing the adventures and exploits of his or her relatives ana regiments, drowned her voice only Steinhausen, listening intently, caught the words with a hard smile at her en thusiasm, which in some indefinable way angered him. The subject being an irresistible torrent of self-laudation, the speakers were carried away quite forgetting that their triumphant success was a bitter defeat to their Saxon hosts that the desperate hand-to-hand encounters so glow ingly described inflicted cruel wounds perhaps on those dear to the listeners. Frau Ghering s soft, dark eyes filled with tears; Clarchen s little hands clinched themselves viciously; and above the delicate lace round Lies throat a quick pulse could be seen to quiver impatiently, as, from war, the C9nversation wandered to political arrangements, and the wisdom and foresight of Prussia was vaunted as- compared with the folly, weakness, or vacillation of otli >r states. At length a passing but unmistakable allusion to the prompt decision demanded from Saxony as to her alli ance with Austria filled the cup of insult to the brim ; and- Lies, rising with an air of decision remarkable in one so young, altnough turning rather pale, said very distinctly, " Allow me, here in my father s place, to remind the com pany, (Herrschaften) that to discuss politics or religion ii> mixed society is contrary to good breeding to discuss either, in a party so unfortunately constituted as this oiia, is contrary to good feeling." She sat down, and a profound silence fell upon the guests. The gentlemen accepted the rebuke and looked do\vu .< ;\ their plates, while the Prussian ladies laughed nervoi..-.iv p.nd angrily, and, with some head-tossing and bri^ii ;;.;., turned to Frau Ghering, remarking on the lateness of t- .--: hour, and the necessity of returning to Pirna. But t- > opening of a door to admit a gentleman created a kar f diversion. The new-corner was a short, neat figure, v, ; . an alert, genial look, chiefly owing to a peculiarly plbc what would Lave been boyish curia iiad not XAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW? 19 fcf cached them to a pale silvery gray, and a very gentle manlike, active, not to say dapper figure, completed the personality of Herr Gerichtsamtmann, whose entrance was v?,? ornod by all. Eljs .first address was to the lady strangers; to them, Prussians or not enemies or not, he was radiantly polite. 4 He was made infinitely unhappy by finding he had de tained them, but now he was quite at their service, and, as the;? had supped, would they accompany him into his Ar- \ beit" simmer and explain their business if the remainder of -g the rompany" a circular bow "would excuse him." 1 ! .Many thanks, Herr Amtmann, said the Baronin, rising in a stately manner. "My son has decided to purchase a Gut not far from here, in your district, intending to settle in Saxony, and I have called upon you to ascertain under wha conditions one could raise it from a Bauer to a Hitter Gutr-for, of course, it would be intolerable to persons of our rank to occupy an inferior position in Saxony." "JXh!" returned the polite judge a long-drawn * Ah I "Thus is a matter which bristles with difficulties. If the gnadige Fran will follow me I will lay a few of them bo- fore&er." He waved his hand toward the door. Th 5 Baronin looked at her watch. * I fear, mein Herr, I must ask you to write them to me. I am staying in Dres den, at the Hotel de Saxe, but we have scarce time to catch the Isst train." 41 Ach ja! the gnadige Frau has ten minutes to spare, in which I can explain much the abolition of the Fiohn- dienst, the Forest rights, the Erlauben Sie mir," and he threw open the door. The Baronin and Baronessa, with deep courtly courtesies to the company, who stood up to say aieu, then made their exit. CHAPTER III. STEEJHAUSEN observed, with some irritation, that on her father s appearance Lies had risen quietly, noiselessly re placed! the knife and fork, plate and glass, she had used, with others, and silently left the room. He gnawed his mustache in a fit of impatience. Supper was over, and not a chance had offered itself for cross-examining, as he had intended with condescending gallantry, the fair girl, or woman, who had so excited his fancy. How was he to open up his advances if another opportunity off ered, when she had so severely rebuked him ? Of course an abject apologv might serve to open the trenches ; but he was too eeriousV vexed with her, with himself everything, to like g he was in the wxonjj. He feared he had ou> $0 MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW f raged the politeness due to hosts, even on compulsion. He tried to tell himself that the whole affair was not worth a thought, that to-morrow the whim would have passed away, and even while he reasoned thus sagely, he watched with almost fierce eagerness for her return. " But only the lively little Gerichtsamtmann re-entered alter escorting his visitors to their carriage. Even enemies in the shape of guests were almost wel come to the kindly, hospitable Herr Ghering. He advanced, rubbing his hands cheerfully, and performing one or two txnys, while he struggled to maintain the grave and cold aspect he thought suited to the circumstances, but under -"which rippled the bright, kindly smile he could not quite suppress. ; He trusted the Herrschaft had been duly pro- vivided with all they required. He saw that already they had supper ended. He would not detain the Ilerrn. At a disordered table to sit is not agreeable. Pray go into the salon, my wife will lead you there;" at which hint the si lent hostess rose and preceded her guests to the adjoining room. There was something of quiet sadness in the lady s bearing which impressed the Prussian officers with kindly respectj and Burciiardt suggested in a quick aside to the Rittmeister that it might be as well if they retired to their own apartments. u No ; certainly not. It is more agree able here," he replied, sharply. "Yes, much more agreeable," echoed the Falmricb. and the three officers grouped themselves near the quiet lady of the house, who had already taken refuge in her knit ting. Conversation proving somewhat difficult, Von Planitz and Burchardt wandered away to smoke in the veranda ; for though in the salon the lamp was necessary, a splendid harvest moon made the garden and surround ings silvery clear. Steinhausen, however, stood his ground, and tried every possible subject with his uncommunicative companion. He praised the villa and the scenery, the richness of the crops he had noticed in passing through the country, the fine fiock of geese he had seen making their way across the yard ; but neither scenery, crops, nor geese elicited anything like a hearty response." At last Steinhausen took up the family photograph album, thinking he had sufficiently paved the way to the subject uppermost in his thoughts. " These faniily books are very interesting," he said, opening it. "I like to trace the same type of face through varying forms. You have some very charming portraits here. May I be permitted to guess, from the likeness to yourself, that this young gentleman is your son?" showing the cadet before men tioned. 44 He is," returned Frau Ghering with a sigh. IfATD, WIFE, OR WlDOWf 31 **And here, no doubt, is your Fraulein daughter," re* earned Steinhausen, proceeding triumphantly, as he tho\ight, to acquire all the information he so much coveted, and pointing to the unsatisfactory portrait of Lies above described. "It is it is my eldest daughter, "said the lady, with a tremor in her voice. "Bitte, bitte," she added, with a deprecatory motion of the hand. "Ask me no more about these photographs; there are memories which pre vent my speaking of them with the calmness 1 ought to show before a stranger," and she knitted a little more rapidly than before. Steinhausen had nothing for it but with a politely -ex pressed apology on his lips, and wrath in his heart to shut the book, and fall back on the crops and the geese. His unusual patience, however, did not go unrewarded. In. a lew minutes Clarchen entered the room. " Go, dear," said Frau Ghering, "call Lies hither; I am, but poor company," and gathering up her knitting, she left the room. " Lies is coming," said Clarchen, standing irresolutely by the veranda door, strongly tempted to join the agree able Von Planitz without ; but a dim sense of what was due to patriotism and propriety held her back. Stein hausen rose. Young ladies 01 the " Bachfishchchen " period were not to his taste, but for the moment she was of im portance. " And what do you do with yourself, my Fraulein," he asked, good-humoredly, "all daylong in this quiet place ; no concerts, no theater, no classes ? And he pushed for ward a chair for her, seating himself on the ottoman as he spoke ; but Clarchen did not take the hint. She still stood leaning against the side of the door, where she had moved after a moment s hesitation. "Do? Oh, I have plenty to do. I have my own, own chickens to attend to, and I go twice a week to Pirna for lessons, and I have to practice, for Lies teaches me music, and then oh, there is plenty to do- -then we used to have beautiful and military con- certs before " she hesitated; her color rose, and slia added, with an irrepressible burst of angry feeling, " till you came and spoiled everything." Steinhausen laughed. "Are we such terribly bad fel lows as to spoil the harmony of your life, mem Kindcheti?" he said. " You must forgive, and learn to love us! We, too, can give music fine music. Have you never heard a Prussian Jband?" " Never; only your penny whistles," returned Clarchen, shortly. * What I Herr Rittmeister, are you and the little 23 MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW f cv.nrreling / asked Burcharclt, coming in from the veranda, * ; Ah, mJa Fraulein, the Eittmeister is a cruel, hard hearted being not like me. So come out on the balcony and tell us some more of the legends you repeated in tho garden this afternoon." Clarchen hung her head as if a little ashamed of having been betrayed into such a familiar footing with her foes ; hut she was rescued from the dilemma by the words, " Ex cuse my sister, mein Herr! The dew falls, and she is bet ter in-doors." Lies had entered Unperceived behind them. Stemhausen rose and stood with an air of deference until she should seat herself; but she walked to a large orna mental work-basket, which stood at the end of the room, and taking from it a large piece of half -finished white em broidery, handed it to the young lady with a significant smile. Clarchen, with a slight laugh and a blush, at once sat down to work, and her sister, taking a small velvet case, placed herself on a low read ing- chair near the otto man, and drew forth a finer, but not less elaborate, speci; men of silk work. Burchardt seated himself by Clara, and proceeded to tease her in a kindly fatherly fashion about , lounging woman, whose occupation permitted him to look fixedly at the sweet face, the quiet grace of neck and shoulder, tho pretty, white, deft fingers. "My father," she said sgtfden- ly, raising her eyes fully and fearlessly to his, " drarged me to make his excuses to you business of importance de tains him in his ; Arbeitzimmer . " " The courtesy of all within Villa Bellevue loaves noth ing to complain of." A long pause, which Steinhausen felt terribly puzzled to break his companion looked so profoundly calm, so coldly composed, that he felt more severely checked than if sho had testified the utmost scorn and dislike, besides a sense of irritation created by the contrast between her repose and the strange longing he experienced to seize her soft email hands and cover them with kisses- To his pleased surprise she broke the silence, saying with an arch smile, ** TLOU see there are pleasant corners in Saxony." " It is a charming country, and full of precious things," he returned, with much animation. " Even after all we have given to you, "she addwl. "Given!" cried Steinhausen. "Should you not have* said * you have taken from us? " "Yes, taken from us, "repeated Lies, thoughtfully, with out raising her eyes, % " And we are greedy still," continued Steiahausen, draw- MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW f ing near to his companion. " Saxony has still gems left, which some of us at least long to annex." She looked up iii a little surprise, but his eyes toli Ui? meaning, and in spito of her self- command a faint r5;L li stole over her cheek and faded slowly away, as she replied, " Peace at least secures from farther annexation for the present/ 1 "But does not forbid it for the future," cried Steiahau- sen, eagerly. l You should be ashamed to acknowledge your national greed," she returned, with a smile. I am far frorn ashamed of the greed I acknowledge, 1 said Steinhausen, significantly. And there was a pause, the young lady composedly tracing the leaves of a rose, part of which already glowed on the silken screen she was working, while Steinhausen racked his brain for soine fresh topic by means of which he might relieve his curi osity and ingratiate himself. She was dreadfully provok ing; and the irresistible, amused smile which cre^t over her lips as the silence continued, seemed as if sho was aware of his difficulties. "The gnadiges Fraulein is a lover of the dumb creatures she cared for so kindly," he said, at length. " I could not resist watching you this evening as you stood in the Hof yonder and fed the pigeons." 44 You did !" she exclaimed in surprise. " I trust I may be forgiven, Gnadige Frau Fraulcin or Frau?" he asked, insinuatingly. "Whichever you like," she returned, unmoved. " But, pardon me, I should like to give you your proper title." " It is of no consequence, " she said, slowly, as she threaded her needle. "Your accuracy or your error are alike to me, while to-morrow you will ride away, and the memory ct your passing curiosity will have faded before you reach Y our next quarters. " Without raising her eyes she worked keadily on. " But I shall not ride away to-morrow, nor perhaps tha day after," cried Steinhausen, impetuously; "and it my memory is to retain nothing of the interesting hours I liavo spent under your hospitable roof, do you imply that yours will be more enduring f "Much more, 1 said Lies, pausing as she drew out a long thread. " I shall always retain a rnont vivid recollection of your visit, and those of your fellow -soldiers who pre ceded you." She spoke emphatically, looking up straight into his eyea ith an effort to be grave, while a slight but iniscluovoua would steal into the dimples of her check. $4 MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW f " I understand, Fraulein, replied Steinhausen, charmed, Tet surprised and nettled by the spirit with which she an swered. He despised soft, sentimental women, yet resen ted self-assertion, with the consistency common to men in ether countries besides Germany. "A painful impression is not so easily shaken off. No reply. "I mean, gnadige Fran, that the mortification of receiving Prussian soldiers leaves its mark. But may I not urge, that, being by the accident of birth and circum stances, one of these unfortunates, could I, with any sense of honor, decline to serve my king, my government ? And, being ordered here, am I to blame for forcing myself upon your reluctant hospitality ?" He spoke in a wounded tone. "It is true," said Lies, gravely. " Perhaps I am unjust. But, Herr Rittmeister, imagine your sisters, your wife, your mother, forced to receive Saxon soldiers, as we aro to receive yours." No stretch of my imagination could depict such a state of things," he returned, with a light laugh, which brought} the quick, eloquent blood to Lies cheek. "But if such an event could happen, and I had mother, sister, or wife, which I have not, they would, I am sure, bo leas unkind, less cruel, than you are." "Cruel! Pooh! That is a large word for a little fruit less, wordy animosity.* "There is animosity, then? You allow it? 1 " How could it be otherwise?" cried Lies, throwing down her work, "when your unnecessary ambition has caused the sorrow and impoverishment of a whole people, the suf fering of those dearer to us than our own lives, the loss often of all that makes life worth living " She stopped for a moment, and covered her face with her hands. "You make me wish myself a Saxon," said Steinhausen, in low tones, which showed he was deeply moved. "Ah! if you were!" cried Lies, removing her hands and looking at him with a sudden, strange impulse. " And if I were? "What then ?" he asked, drawing nearer. "Saxony would have one more brave, capable soldier, no doubt, Herr Rittmeister," she replied, quietly. Steinhausen rose and walked toward the veranda. Through the open door he saw the smart little " Dienstmad- chen," Daisy, setting out a table with beer and cigars for the benefit of his brother officers. Ciarchen had vanished. On looking back, he was alarmed to see his fair antagonist folding up her work, as if about to retire ; he strode quickly across the room, and again threw himself on the ottoman beside her. "We have infringed the rule vou so forcibly laid do vri at supper, mein Fraulem," he said. " Politics and religi^A MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW f & should never be discussed in mixed society; and smrsD a^ it is, ours is a very mixed society, nicht wahr? So permit me to touch on more personal "matters. You have somo very dear to you with the army? I have many; my brother, and others, relatives fri- nds." She spoke slowly, hesitatingly. "Dare I further conjecture a dearer tie?" suggested Sieinhausen, his heart beating in an extraordinary man ner. " Your your husband " >% This is a subject on which I cannot must not speak it is quite forbidden !" She spoke with much agitation, and Jetting her work -case fall, stooped to pick up the contents. "I dare not infringe your order, gnadigo Frau," said Sfeinhausen, with pro found respect, while he built up a lit tle mental historiette of an unhappy marriage, a separation, a possible divorce, and deriving an odd sort of satisfaction from the idea. "Your words suggest strange, painful ideas. Prussian foe though I be, nnct rugged, perhaps, by nature, there is something in your voice, your eyes, your whole- being, that touches a rarely-awakened chord of feel ing in my innermost soul, that compels me with a force I cannot resist." Herr Rittmeisteiy said the cheery, kindly voice of tho Gerichtsamtinann, " I am but this moment free; will yo~j not join your comrades and myself on the veranda ? Let us do our best to heal old wounds, and drink to the prosper ity of the great *Deutscher Vaterland. " He waved hia hand toward Burchardt and Von Planitz, who might ba ceeu very comfortably seated by the table above men tioned. "Well said, my good sir," returned the Rittmeister, heartily; "yours is true patriotism." He looked at Lies as he spoke; she courtesied slightly, and walked toward th-e door. tr teinhausen moved quickly and opened it for her, and, while the active little magistrate was occupied in turning down the lamp, whispered: "May I never hope to have the mystery which interests, distracts me, solved ?" li Perhaps," was the reply, with a sweet smile and dow~ cast eyes. i( Some day when I am presented at Berlin," arxl she parsed away down the corridor. Does the Heir Rittmeister play whist ?" asked Herr Gaermg, who had rummaged out and was dexterously e^uraiBg a pack of cards. * Yes, it is a good game," he replied, mechanically, while i^e repeated to himself, Berlin ! then probably the husband if Prussian? That may account for her hatred of us. Bui i\ ha has a Saxon uniform." JTJJD, WIFE, OR WIDOW f CHAPTER IV. LOKG and profound repose effected little toward blunting 1 the keen edge of the Rittmeister s curiosity and interest. After the first moments of waking, with" their puzzled wonder as to where he was and how he got there, he sprung lip, alert, and eager to get through his duties and resume his investigations. The rigid and punctual Karl presented himself, with an unmistakable expression of importance on his wooden faco, but Steinhauseii nearly finished dressing in silence. At last, after answering some trivial question, lie found an opportunity of displaying his zeal and intelligence. Ach Gott! Herr Rittmeister. Folks here are short- spoken and gruff; they have no manners at all. So soon as the gnadiger Herr had to supper gone, I went to the kitchen, and says I to the cook, You have a good kindly Herrschaften here, and a beautiful house, and excellent eating. It is heavenly to bide here after the hardships yonder. I thought it best to speak the alte Hexe fair " here he delivered such a rusty wink (if such an expression be permitted) at his master, that Steiiihausen thought he would never recover "eyes right" again. "With that, Frau Kochon gave a sort of a grunt and says, * That I be lieve; and I wish our own poor fellows were having the good of it instead of you. Well, "began Steiiihausen, intending to stop the flow of his eloquence; but it was not every day that the string of Karl s tongue was loosed, and, besides, he thought his mas ter was only eager for more information. "Hit Erla.ubniss, Herr Rittmeister," he went on. "I then eaid how 4 schon the young Frauleins were, and asked if the eldest was not married, but not a word did she answer no more than if she were stone deaf just looking as sour nnd yellow as the Gurken. she was lay ing in a dish. Presently she dropped a big spoon, so with much politeness I picked it up for her; then she did grunt out . Dauke. I says * Bitte sehr, and thinking I had made her a trifle more friendly, asked very pleasantly, "What did you say the young lady s husband s name , was? thinking to lead her on; but no! she turned round sharp, quite vicious like, as" if she would spit at me ; and says she, I never said nothing about it! What is it to you or your master either who she is or how she is called? IShe wouldn t take any notice of a Prussian, were he even a prince in your greedy country ; and with that she hit ma a rap on the side of the head with the very spoon I had picked up for the old Hexe, and what more could " MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW t 87 "True, true," cried Steinhausen, laughing. "I think you have acted with amazing tact ; but Karl " 44 Ay, Herr Rittrneister I can " 11 Yon can do nothing more, Schafskopf," said his maa- ter, impatiently. " I do not care for further information; let the matter drop. After all, it is nothing to us who and \vhat these Saxon churls are." " But, Herr Rittmeister " 44 Silence ! My sword, and then bring me coffee !" Sorely disappointed at the result of nis severe and un wonted mental exertion, Karl, after a moment s hesitation* disappeared. Some totally new spring of feeling made the idea of a common man s coarse inquiries concerning Lies insupport able to Steinhausen. There was something indeserioable about this Saxon girl or woman, the sort of magic " Which warns the touch while winning the sense, Nor charms us least when it most repels. However, Steinhausen was no boy yielding to the fores of a first passion; he was quite capable of putting aside the fcudden potent whim which had seized him, and throwing himself heartily into his morning task of inspection, tho ordinary duty of regimental parade, as if no such fascinat ing creature existed. But, these duties over, he galloped back to the villa, on fire with impatience, to renew the conversation of the previous night, which had possessed such a tantalizing charm, and in which he flattered him self he had, after all, made not so bad an impression on his sweet antagonist. He stopped, after dismounting, to permit the well-trained Karl to brush the dust of his early demarch from his gar- * ments, and permit his junior officers to join him. I They found 4 Fruhstuck" laid in the veranda. The I meal, which corresponds with our luncheon, was plenti- 1 fully set forth cold partridge, fruit, omelettes, coffee, and , gome long-necked, tempting bottles; beside the table eat Fran Ghering knitting, and at the further end of the ve randa stood Clarchen, playing 4 cup and ball " with much dexterity. A quiet " Good-day" from the lady of the house, pro found bows from the Prussian officers, and the latter seat ed themselves at table, while Clarchen came forward with.. shy pleasure, yet visible reluctance, the result of mingled joy in the unusual excitement of such visitors, and patriot to resentment at having to entertain them. After the kindly old German fashion, she assisted Daisy to wait upon tho guests, and even forgot herself so far as to make sprightly rejoinders to the young Fahnrich and Burchardt. Bufc 38 3d AID, WIFE, OR WIDOW! there was no sign of Lies. Indeed, Burchardt had asked Prau Ghering politely for her "Fraulein Toehter," and was answered that she was " quite well, but always busy." At last the excessive demands of Falmrich upon the 0gar- basin exhausted the supply, seeing which, Frau Gheriasr told Clarchen to fetch some more. "I will go to Lies for the key-basket," she replied, and peeping into the sa?yn, exclaimed: "Ah! she is there; Lies, Lies!" Whereupon Bteinhausen s eyes were at last rejoiced and satisfied by the object they longed for. As she stepped into the ve randa in answer to her sisters call, the Rittmeister s doubts as to her being married or single became almost certainty. She looked so deliciously matronly in a black and wMte morning wrapper, and a small, delicately white muslin cap, with black ribbons, a lace cravat tied round her neck, and fastened with a miniature brooch, tho miniature of that commonplace-looking fellow whose portrait disfigured the Rittmeister s room. The guests rose and greeted her with deferential bows, which she accepted with a pretty, gentl stateliness that went well with her air and costume ; but Steinhausen noticed, as she turned to speak to her mo ther, that on one side of her cap was pinned a small green and white rosette. "Apiece of silent defiance," thought Steinhausen; but he only uttered a polite "Good-morning," and drew for ward a chair near to his own. She acknowledged his civil ity with a slight courtesy, and selecting a bunch of keys from the numbers in her basket, gave them to her sister, who disappeared with an air of great importance. "May I offer the gnadige Frau some coffee ?" asked Lieutenant Burchardt. Frau Ghering looked up quickly at the speaker. " I thank you," returned Lies, "I breakfasted an hcu.c ago. I hope you have all you require, gentlemen ?" " All that we require, certainly, and more than we de serve," said the Rittmeister, smiling. " Will you not give us the pleasure of your company at the table ?" 44 1 regret that it is my business hour, she replied, " aui my work is not yet half accomplished." Clarchen here returned with the replenished sugar- basin, and, setting it on the table, restored the keys to tkflir proper place. " May I ask for a piece ?" asked Steiuhausen. With a natural impulse Lies dipped her pretty fingers into the basin (of course, there were no sugar-tongs), &xid dropped a "Stuckchen" into the Kittmeister s cup, their eyed meeting. She smiled archly, and said, in a low tone : " To sweeten last night s acidity 1" This delicate touch of coquetry surprised and delighted Steinhausen, opening up MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW? 23 to.lkim possibilities say of amusement which sent a mo mentary thrill along his veins. * Better such * bitter sweet than unalloyed syrup from oCher hands," returned Steinhausen, gallantly; but Lies had turned away already and re-entered the action, and breakfast progressed to a happy termination, unbroken by other visitors. Steinhausen rose with some satisfaction; st an indefinable impression grow upon him that this charm- * ing Saxon girl maid, wife, or widow, whatever she might 3 be was not indisposed to play with the impression she i was too observant not to perceive she had made upon her | admirer. Steinhausen, without any positive intentions, p resolved that the game should not be all play of course II he Tvas too old a bird to be easily caught and marriage we jl, if he ever thought of marriage, it would be in the sepse of an alliance. Love, passion, fancy he had learnt to consider these emotions as a passing madness, which must not interfere with a man s career ; but Lies (he would think of her only as Lies, that implied no marriage or en tanglement), there was some wonderful attraction about her, apeeuliar frank sweetness, that, had he been familiar with English poets, would have tempted him to quote : " Sure something holy lodges in that breast." Not since his early fiery boyish days had merged into skeptical manhood had he received quite the same impres sion. Yet he tried to laugh at himself for his unusual lit of sentimentality, and as lie stood thus resisting his own thoughts and lighting his cigar, up the veranda steps, alert, fresh and neat, from his gray curly head to his well - blacked stout boots, came Herr Amtmann, with a cheerful greeting, and even a fainter effort than the night before at % distance and dignity. To have people under his roof, to feed them with the milk and honey of the best viands and his choicest wines, was enough to endear them to the kindly, generous, simple heart of Herr Ghering. Nothing was too good for those that wanted anything, and even from enemies forced upon his hospitality he could hardly wnbhold the tide of friendliness so -ready to flow toward whoever had eaten of his "bread and salt." While the best and amplest return friend or foe could make was to pr&ise his house and grounds, in which he took great pride a pride displayed with the most unaffected and childlike caudor. 3 1 was an ignorance of this foible, and in all sincerity, that the RJttmeister, after the first greetings, began to praise the beaut of the view and the admirable the garden. >raise the beauty of the view and the admirable order of he garden. *.- * suppose, Herr Amtmann, you have a clover Voigt *0 MAID. WIFE, OR WIDOW* (bailift). The duties of your office must leave you but littls time for personal supervision." " 3a| Gewiss!" cried Herr Ghering, rubbing his hands, v,-i;h a chuckle of intense satisfaction. " I have indeed a clever Voigt. My eldest daughter manages everything everything. It is wonderful, remarkable so young and yet such an organizer. 11 Indeed, most remarkable,"" ejaculated Steinhausen, anx ious to lead Jiim on. "Yes, the cows, the planting, the reaping even," with impressive emphasis ; the cheese she manages all. It is much a little too much for one so young, and but Herr "I . for I have a Rittergut in Slesian, where they mismanage mat ters terribly." " Ha! that is bad very bad indeed," cried the host, full of interest; " if, after dinner, Herr Rittmeister would like to walk through our fields, and look at the barns, I am eure Lisabet would, th.it is "correcting himself, "she has her prejudices, poor thing, which are not to be won dered at; but I. gnadiger Herr, I will myself show you over my small domains, and then you can judge you can judge." Steinhausen listened intently. Why were her prejudices not to be wondered at? Why did this provoking little simpleton stop short? How was he (Steinhausen) to lead him back to the prejudices of the adorable Lies? So ha said, with chivalrous politeness, 4C If your charming Frau daughter has these strong feelings against us unhappy Prussians, it must be very painful to her to receive and entertain us, and that creates a sense of pain in the recipi ents of your bounteous hospitality." .Instead of listening to and correcting any error in the appellation of the lady under discussion, the energetic little judge was eagerly rooting up an intrusive weed which had reared its green head between the red tiles of the veranda, and only caught the last words. ** You make too much of our poor efforts, and, believe me, we are not so blinded by national prejudices as to undervalue brave eoldicrs who only do their duty, and " Here Burchardt, who had been lighting an obdurate cigar, interrupted Herr Amtmann by asking Steinhausen if be was aware that their friend Von Wolf was at Pirna, obliged to remain behind his regiment, as he was ill with Saver, from a wound ho considered too slight to report ? * ; No," said the Rittineister, "i had not heard ci mm* SI AID, WIFE, OR WIDOW f 91 These over- heroic young soldiers are rather troublesome, from their want of precaution." " Planitz and I thought of riding over to see him. As you intend resting here to day, will you come with us 2" "Thank you, no," returned Steinhausen, shortly. "I had enough riding yesterday and shall be in the saddle all to-morrow." " While to-day you have an Eel en and an Eve," rejoined the Lieutenant, laughing a jest for which his superior officer would have liked to give him three days arrest on bread and water. He prudently, however, turned a deaf ear to the insinuation, and the kind host immediately pro ceeded to give the two young officers elaborate directions as to a short and shady route whereby they could reach the town where their friend lay. During the explanation the Bittmeister stalked, with a stern and dignified air, into the salon, and once more took up the family album, deter mined to try the photograph trick on the little judge, who would, he felt certain, join him as soon as the others were gone. In a few minutes he heard Von Planitz and Bur- chardt bid their host good-bye, and rattle down the steps to the garden on their way to the stables, and the next minute Herr Ghering came to his side. Ah ! Herr Rittmeister has found out our picture-gal lery," he said, with much complaisance, and proceeded gleefully to point out his wife and a couple of brothers, evi dently old soldiers and much decorated. Then he paused at the likeness of a sweet, dreamy-looking child, and the kindly voice trembled as he said it was his first-born, who had been taken from them in early childhood. Then he brightened up again when the next page was turned and he was able to expatiate on the manifold virtues and ac quirements of his only son ; and then came the object of Steinhausen s curiosity, the pages on one of which was the commonplace-looking officer and the indifferent photo graph of Lies, and, opposite, another and a very superior carte of the same lady, with a likeness of Clarchen and the little boy. "And these?" asked the Rittmeister, with just the right degree of polite interest. "You will recognize some," returned Herr Ghering. "This is my eldest daughter," he continued, with a sigh, "but not a good photograph. It does not do her justice." Another sigh. And this this is my son-in-law, poor fellow ! It is altogether a sad story, and one not to be in truded on " "My father!" cried Clarchen, running in at this critical juncture, "the Herr Richter is here, and says some 82 MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW? vagrants have been thieving in the village. He wishes to make a deposition before employing the Polizei." " Now, it is too bad." exclaimed the judge, hastily shut ting up the photograph book. " I have taken euda pains with the people under my jurisdiction, that Bergfeld has hitherto been especially noted for the absence of crime, for the intelligence and good conduct of the people and now ! You will excuse me, Herr Bittmeister. At dinner we shall meet Auf wiedersehen ;" and the little judge hurried a way with sharp., quick steps, and corresponding nods of his gr ay curls." Left alone with the Rittmeister, Clarchen crossed her hands behind her and looked at him quietly, with an ex pression of mingled fun and defiance. He felt, he know- not why, that she was specially inimical to him; neverthe less, he attempted to get a little more information from her, though, indeed, his doubts were nearly solved by Herr Ghering s remarks. 44 Come, liebes Fraulein," he said, drawing a comfortable chair and seating himself at the table, " come and tell me all about the family photographs." Clarchen shook her head. * I cannot stay; I have quail- ties to do; for Lies is out, and has left me her keys." " "Out!" cried Steinhausen, with irrepressible vexation. " Where has she gone ?" Clarchen stared and smiled. "Oh, up the hill to the Oberbergfelder. Frau Streich s little boy is ill, so she seat lor my sister." u Your sister appears to be a general benefactress." " She is good," returned Clarchen, gravely, and turned to go. 4 One moment," cried Steinhausen. " What is to be come of me ? I have nothing to do nothing to read. My comrades have ridden off without me." "Why did you let them go, then ?" laughed Clarchen. " There are books," pointing to the well-niled table; " then, there are some wonderful gardens, like Versailles, they say, not far off, and you might catch the Herr Lieutenant if you like they had only just ridden out of the Hof f*s I came in. So adieu, Herr Bittmeister," arid with a saucy courtesy she walked quickly out of the room. " Impertinent little puss," thought Steinhausen, looking after her. " It is too absurd, the prejudices of these peo ple." He paused in momentary hesitation, then, catching a glimpse of trim little Daisy clearing away the remains or breakfast, he called her into the salon. "Whereabouts are these wonderful gardens of jours 8 * he asked. " Oh! the Schloas gardens ," MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOWf 83 { *Yes, I suppose so." "ThegnacugerHerr must go up the hill right through the village to Qberbergfelder, and leave the Gasthof zum Schwarzen Bar to the right, keep on across the fields till you come to a little house in a clump of fir trees, and there they will direct you/ ""Thanks," interrupted the Rittmeister. " Oberberg- f elder. I have no doubt I shall find the place." Daisy dropped a courtesy and retreated, while Steinhausen, re- mci n"bering Clarchen a account of her sister s errand, took up his cap rind started forth on the sunny, dusty road in search of the will-o -the-wisp mystery, the attraction of which he could not resist. The distance to the Oberbergfelder was not great, but on tho way the luttmeister met and spoke with several of his troopers; he also paused more than once to look behind him fit the villa and its sheltering lindens, so that a good deal of time was consumed before he reached the little hamlet. Yet the only specimen of womankind whom ha encountered was an aged, bent, and bare-legged crone, with a huge basket ou her back, who bid him "Guten Tag" mechanically. Reaching the few cottages which consti tuted the Dorf, the road divided, or, rather, a cart-track diverged to the light, and the road kept away left across some cpen grass-land, flat and unbroken, to the clump of fir-trees indicated by Daisy. The Rittmeister hesitated. It was improbable that such an accomplished housewife as the young Frau Lisabet would at this period of the day absent herself long ; but as yet there was no sign of her. To be sure, she knew the country, and had probably returned by eome more agreeable route. True to his Hussar train ing, Yon Steinhausen. looked about for a " vantage post " whence to study the position; a stunted, gnarled pol ard was the- only object (save the housetops) at all elevated above the level of field and road; the Kittmeister, though, no slender strippling, managed to climb up a couple of feet of tbo ungainly knotted trunk, and taking a searching look round, fancied he saw a whitish, strange object; mov ing toward a sudden steep declivity, down which the cart- track led, and which he had not before perceived. A continuous eager gaze convinced him that this object was a certain drab-white cotton sunshade, lined with green, which he had noticed in an umbrella-stand in the entrance of Villa Bellevue. This was clew enough: the enterprising Rittmeister started at once in pursuit, and when within reach of his quarry slackened speed in order to come up alongside as iflby pure accident. The certain ty that had grown upon him since morning that Lies was married and iii some, way, more or less unfortunate, sopa- 84 MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW? I j rated from her husband, had changed the current of Stein- liausen s ideas considerably. If this charming girl, or woman, was thus shackled, he must assume a different tone, and approach her on a different footing; her bonda did not render her less facinating, far from it, but ho might be better understood, more appreciated, than by a mere girl ; yet, preposterous as it was, he was conscious of a dim regret that there was any one before himself that had a better chance of winning What? What arrant folly to think seriously of such a passing fancy ! What did he seek? Only to while away a few hours of banish ment in an enemy s country. So, with sound reason in his head, and a thrill of wild delight in his heart, Stein- hausen " closed with the chase/ "Pardon me, gnadige Fran," he said, "can I return to the villa by this road?" " You can," she replied, with a very slight start and in- crease of color; " follow it to where there is an old cross half sunk in the ground by an oak tree, and you will find a foot path which will lead you back through the river meadows." " Thanks; you seem to be going in the same direction- may I not accompany you?" Another slight blush, and a very cold bow of assent; they walked on a few paces in silence, down a narrow ra vine, in the shelter of which was a pleasant growth of beech and chestnut trees, with here and there a tall, graceful larch. The shade was most welcome, and a cool breeze from the river fanned Steinhausen s hot brow. " You see, I did not ride away this morning," began the Rittmeister at last. "I am but too glad to avail myself Of the discretion allowed me, and let myself and my poor fol lows enjoy a brief repose in your happy valley ; indeed, the difficulty will be to leave it." " Life in our happy valley is but little suited to such na you," she answered; "even I find it a little monotonous. 1 I should imagine a life so active as yours would bo free from any feeling of dullness." " How do you know I am active ?" she asked, turning to him with a smile, as she closed her sunshade arid used it for a walking-stick. "Oh! a very small degree of observation would enable one to perceive that much, even if your Herr papa had not detailed all your business abilities to me as he was kindly showing me the photographs this " " Did my father show you the photos?" interrupted his companion, quickly, with an uneasiness she could not quite repress. ~ returned &&iab&i?$$a ft with significance, and MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW t 55 looking full into her eyes. Lies, blushing deeply, turned away as if annoyed, and the Rittmeister, after a instant s pause, continued in a lower tone, " I must entreat pardon for what may have seemed to you indiscreet curiosity ; I shall be more prudent in future, more absolutely obedient to y our tacitly-expressed wish : hereafter, perhaps " " Say 110 more speak of something else," she interrupt ed, hastily, and a silence of some minutes ensued. At last, with a frank, pleasant laugh, Steinhausen ex claimed, 4 How difficult it is to avoid any one forbidden subject, and when there are two or three a fellow does not know where to turn; I dare not speak of war, or Prussia, or Saxony, or my own impressions, or, worst deprivation of all, your "he paused, as if with difficulty suppressing some epithet" yourself." "If the effort to find conversation is so trying," said Lies, with an arch smile, * l and it must be, pray do not punish yourself; go on I shall sit here in the shade; and, at least, you can have the freedom of your own thoughts." "No, no! certainly not," cried Steinhausen, eagerly, "unless you absolutely object to my company. Let me ^alk with you to-morrow you will be free from the presence of the detested Prussian ; but to-day let me en joy to-day, come what will to-morrow." There was a touch of passionate entreaty in his tones that, perhaps, reached his listeners heart, for although she made no reply, she turned her eyes to his with a wonder ing, yet not unkindly expression, and breathed a slight sigh as her glance sank under his. " Now, "continued the Rittmeister, " as I have confessed *he poverty of ideas, will you not come to my aid? the frorld stands with you." With a quick, arch nod, she said, " Have you ever been, in England that, surely, is safe?" Steinhausen laughed. " No, I have not; have you?" 4 When, may I ask?" 4 About two years ago." Did you like it?" said the Rittmeister, recovering his 07 aanimity sufficiently to light a fresh cigar. * In some ways, yes; in others, not at all." * What displeased the gnadige Frau ?" She looked up quickly for an instant, and replied: "The life is somewhat tiresome; people are always en grand toilette, and the eating is such a solemn undertaking, and so punctual no one dares to be two minutes late; and, although women are freer, and seem to have more power than here, I do riot think they are really any more loved or respected. Then there is great coldness Detween 86 MAID, W&E, OR WIDOW f the servants and the Herrschaften, and the theaters are not good ; no one goes out in the evening in the country, at least; but the houses are charming, and the gardens; the people, top, are very friendly to those they like. But conversation is always difficult to a foreigner, because, as you observed of forbidden subjects, every topic that touches religion is almost impossible for a stranger, from the medisBval style of English thought but in all other * things what a practical, unsentimental people !" She spoke with a certain persistence, as if determined to I keep the talk to herself, but she came to a halt at last. "Two years ago," repeated the Rittmeister, somewhat irrelevantly. His thoughts, though he had listened to her j. quiet, pleasant voice with full attention, had yet been oc- I cupied with the question: If, two years ago, she was away * in England, when did this unfortunate marriage of hers take place ? Surely not previously she would have been too young; and if since, and her husband was dead, she could hardly yet have left off her widow s mourning ! 44 Two years ago! Was it, then, a wedding journey ?" The lady blushed crimson, "Herr Rittmeister forgets his self-imposed discretion," she said coldly; " all personal and offensive subjects were to be avoided. " "A thousand pardons," he returned, earnestly, and, thinking he saw her eyes full of tears, he mentally swore at himself as an unfeeling brute for his inconsiderate curiosity. "I will not again offend, but," pressing his hand on his breast, "if I could lay my heart open before you, you would, perhaps, find the interest you choose to term idle curiosity neither impertinent nor unpardonable. 7 There was force and dignity in his gesture, but his. com panion made no reply, and after walking a few paces in silence, Steinhausen asked, with a smile, "May I. be per- ft mitted to say that I much wish I could inspect the Dresden f Gallery." "No," returned Lies, struggling to suppress an answer- ing smile, " to mention the few possessions left to us de feated Saxons only suggests our losses and your gains for centuries." " Ah ! I could answer that." ft lf you will, but I shall wish you good-morning. " " But, Gnadige, suppose I chose to keep you company; how would you get rid of me?" he exclaimed, a little irri- tafcecl by her composure. " Cm! some things are impossible to a gentleman, s,nd I presume, Herr Rittmeister von Steinhausen, of the Prus sian army, is a gentleman ?" " I hope so," said Steinhausen, with a laugh that sounded a little hard. " But under the gentleman lies the original MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW f 87 man, and sonic things, sweet Saxon, try and tempt a man sorely." She glanced up at him with a surprised, frightened look in the large, earnest blue eyes, that made her companion s heart beat much faster than was necessary ; the look was momentary, and she said ver} coolly, " We do not seem to be successful in avoiding forbidden subjects ; try another, Herr Rittmeister." He laughed partly at her remark, partly at his own !o7ig- ing to take her in his arms and deal out a liberal punisii- ment in kisses, and the idea of her indignation could she have divined his thoughts. "Well, then, what shall it be? Oh! Italy; have yen ever traveled in Italy ?" "No- have you ?" "Yes, about three years ago;" and, anxious to recover any ground he might have lost, Steinbauseii spoke well and pleasantly, though always with a tinge of- eymeisra, of his Italian experiences. He found an intelligent ami cultivated listener, and the peace, or truce, between thom was not infringed for the remainder of their walk. Of ion. the memory of that pleasant hour came back to the liltt- meister in far different scenes the little wooden ravine, debouching on the rich green, fields and linden trees of the riverside; the sweet, soft air, the song of a .soaring lark, the peaceful, utter stillness around them, as if they alone inhabited the earth, anew Adam and Eve, though Adam in gattering Hussar trappings was slightly incongruous; the more natural tone of his companion, whose guarded coldness sensibly melted away in the interest of the conver sation. Then what sweet, long glances he occasionally received, what pleasant glimpses of a charmingly white, well-turned throat and pretty pink ear he caught when, ~ -with half-averted head and downcast eyes, she listened | gravely to some description or theory, which latter she generally disputed. But, alas! pleasant things never last; and it seemed to Steinhausen that before he had said half he had to say, or made half enough of this blessed oppor tunity, they came to a bifurcation of the path one leading up-hill to the villa, the other away to the river s edge. " If you follow this path," said Frau or Fraulein Lies, "you can get; a very charming peep at Pillnitz, our king s summer palace, or " " Oh, by all means let us take the riverside in our ramble," interrupted the Rittmeister. " Yvu can, if you wish it. I must take the shortest way back. I have already been too long absent." Steinhausen s only reply was to turn with her, keeping close by her side on the homeward road. The conversation 88 MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW? thus suddenly broken off he found it unaccountaV,!,? cult to recommence. The consciousness that every step was bringing this delightful tete- a tete to a clooe fevered and embarrassed him by the eagerness with which ho sought an excuse to prolong it. "And to-morrow," he exclaimed, abruptly, apropos to nothing "to-morrow I must go." "I suppose so, * said Lies, calmly. "The previous de tachments quartered upon us have only spent one night at Villa Bellevue." 44 And," added Steinhausen, " you, no doubt, think that long enough." " I did not say so," was the rejoinder. "You said last night," began the Rittmeister, growing desperate as they appoached the grounds of the villa " you said that perhaps we might meet at Berlin. Proba bly the gnadige Frau has a deeper knowledge of us objec tionable Prussians than I at first imagined." She turned her eyes full upon him clear, quiet eyes. " Your people are the first Prussians I ever spoke to." He shrugged his shoulders. "May I hope you do not vrish us to be the last?" 4 Personalities again, Herr Rittmeister !" she said, with an arch smile. " Let us finish our walk without a breach of conditions." " Some subjects attract like a loadstone," he replied; and this brought them to a side entrance of the garden. They were nearly across it before she spoke, and it was to say : I will wish you good-day and * auf wiedersehen I must go to my office." " What! Are you " he began. " I have an apartment a little bureau, given to me where I manage all my business ; that is, matters concern- Ing my father s farm ; and there I must remain till I have atoned for this morning s idleness." They had reached a door opening on the court-yard, passing through which she turned, bowed, and, leaving the liittmeister planted, she ran lightly up the steps where he Jhad first seen her, and, turning at the top, bowed again. "Auf wiedersehn !" cried Steinhausen from below. " We shall meet at dinner." She smiled, and vanished through the French window which led into her sanctum. Steinhausen stood a minute looking after her, then mut tering to himself, "Gott! have I lost my senses?" went elowiy into the bouse and ascended to his own chamber. MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW t 39 CHAPTER V. NEARLY two hours intervened before the midday repast. They passed heavily to Steinhausen. He tried to write up his journal to finish a letter begun the previous day ; he strolled across to the stables and round the garden, but to no purpose; the only members of the family to be seen were Clarchen, who was too busy gathering greengages to respond to his advances, and Fran Ghering herself, who was knitting on the veranda, and she was as taciturn as ever. 1 Burchardt and the Fahnrich returned from their expedi tion in high spirits, with various good stories of their ! friend s adventures on the march through Bohemia. They first bored their superior officer, and then mortally offended him by some indiscreet questions and suggestions as to how he had passed the morning. They understood the Rittmeister, however, and readily dropped a subject unwelcome to their slightly overbearing comrade. At last they were summoned to table. Here matters were scarcely improved. The Rittmeister was placed on Frau Ghering s right hand, and Frau or Fraulein Lies was seated between her father and that beer-drinking brute Burchardt. She smiled upon him, too, and listened to him with more frank ness and favor than she had yet shown any of them, hardly bestowing a look or a word upon Steinhausen ; indeed, she said very little. Burchardt and the Herr Amtmann did nearly all the talking. They had got on a most interest ing and happily neutral topic the relative merits of Ger man and Hungarian horses. They grew excited, told various thrilling anecdotes, and supported their opinions with much strength of lung, if not of logic, under cover : of which Clarchen and the young Fahnrich planned, in low tones, how she was to try a spare horse of his, which ? he was sure would carry a lady, if only the Frau Mutter , would consent. i This scheme was overheard by Steinhausen, who, too cross to talk himself, listened with keen attention to what was going 011 all round him. The elder sister finally caught some stray words, which betrayed the nefarious design. " Clarchen," she said, in a low but peculiar tone, "I hoped your loyalty would have been proof even against pleasure." The little sister blushed crimson, held doWn her head, and became suddenly silent. The words were meant for her ear alone, but they also reached those of the watchful Bittmeister, who, divining their import, with an impulse of irritation laughed scornfully, as he remarked, * that the 40 MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW f young Fraulein had not yet reached the age at which prej udice hardened into consistency." At last the repast was over, ceremonious bows and muiv inured " Gesegnete Mehlzeit " exchanged. Lies slid quietly from the room, and at the same time the Amtmann seized Steinhausen s arm. "Now. Herr Rittmeister. I am at your service. We will make a little tour of the Gut, and I will fully explain my principles of management. The pleasant little gentleman, rubbing his hands, stood, his head slightly on one side, bright, alert, and brim* ful of useful hints wherewith to enlighten his friend tha enemy. Irritated and disgusted as he was, Steinhausen could not help unbending to the simple, kindly, well-bred, country gentleman. "You are very friendly, Herr Amtmann," he returned, graciously. " I hope I do not trespass too much upon your precious time." "By no means by na means! This way, Herr Ritt- meister. Permit me to direct you." For nearly two hours did Steinhausen perambulate the various inclosures of Herr Amtmann s "Gut, "and enter eagerly into his host s explanations. The farm had, in deed, every requisite, save water ; and this the Amtmann had intended to supply by machinery, already purchased, and placed in a small building beside a deep well which lay at the foot of the hill ; but the breaking out of the war, and the consequent absorption of skilled laborers in the army, had arrested the work, and the good judge s outlay had been hitherto unproductive . "A. sad loss to me, my dear sir," concluded the little man, "for it will he some time before I bring matters into working order ; and Lies, too, she feels it much this delay." At last the judge s exhaustive exposition of his system, his small economies and larger outlays, his checks here, his discipline there, came to an end. The precious hour of .repose was over, and Von Steinhausen was pleased to think it must be time for afternoon coffee not that his inspec tion of Herr Ghering s farm was devoid of interest to him like most Germans of his age and standing, he looked forward to the time when, his soldiering days over, he would turn for occupation and interest to the pursuits of a country gentleman. Still, it was much more agreeable to sit in the shady veranda, and sip the fragrant coffee hand ed to him by his fair antagonist. The two gentlemen found all the party, including the dog Nero, assembled in this favorite resting-place. Lieu tenant Burchardt was chaffing Clarchen about the pro MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW f 41 jected ride which did not come off, in which amusement V on Planitz assisted ; the little Baehfischchen was evidently vexed and ill at-ease ? looking to her sister for help, but the latter was absorbed in the task of pouring out and distribut ing the coffee, and took no notice of the mute appeal. Steinhausen looked on in silence for a few moments, until he mastered the situation. " So you did not accomplish your excursion, Fraulein Clara," he said at last, slowly Stirring his cup of coffee. "The Frau sister would not permit such tampering with the foe, eh! mein Fraulein? she would not like to train the little one in the way she should go nicht wahr, meine Gnadige?" "I would not teach anything save loyalty, "re turned the $lder sister, gravely, offering the speaker a plate of biscuits which Nero, by a sudden importunate movement, nearly "Ah! loyalty; it is a noble quality," said Steinhausen, Absently. He had started from his seat to assist in saving the biscuits, and in so doing inadvertently caught the soft white hand he had just been admiring in his own: the touch was electric lor an instant his thoughts were in a whirl the next, he began to hope that, perhaps, the orders which he was to await at Bergf elder would not como till to-morrow evening, and so he might have more time for what? he scarce knew himself! He began to tell Lies of his walk through the farm with her father. She said little having taken up a piece of elaborate embroidery, on. -which her eyes were fixed. Suddenly the old servant, Hans, presented himself. "An orderly wishes to speak to Herr Kittmeister, " "Oh! bring him in, bring him in, 1 cried the master of the house, who was in the highest good-humor after the delightful occupation of the afternoon. " Through the garden, Hans," said the young directress Of the house, quietly, but emphatically. Von Steinhausen turned his eyes on her, and their expression of mingled re sentment and reproach showed her that he thought she shrank from permitting their salon to be polluted by the presence of a Prussian trooper soldier; this was not what she meant, and feeling it was not possible to explain, an inexplicable sensation of annoyance brought the" color to her cheek in a quick flitting flush, which did not escape Steinhausen s observation, even while he seemed qnTy t-p see the dusty travel-stained trooper who iio\v ascciideel tha steps, and, saluting, handed a dispatch to tho Bittraeisr ter. Steinhausen took it, broke the seal, and opening if, glanced at the contents, a look of fierce discontent darken," 42 MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW f ing his brow as he read ; then, crushing it somewhat in his hand, said to his brother officers : 4 * We march early to-morrow, gentlemen. "We must be in Dresden by noon." Then, to the soldier: " You can go. I have no further orders." "Hans, take him to the kitchen; give him food and drink," said kindly Frau Ghering. "March to-morrow!" cried Burchardt. "G-ott! that iff a misfortune 1 One would like to rest a month long in such a heavenly house as yours, gnadige Frau." "And no chance for a ride now, lieber Fraulein," saidt the Fahnrich to Clarchen. ^ * Does any other party succeed to yours ?" asked Lies. "Ach! lam sorry," exclaimed the hospitable Gerichts- amtmann. " We shall not soon find gentlemen so court eous and accommodating as yourselves ;" to which civility Burchardt made a suitable reply, and some talk ensued, unheeded by Steinhausen, who was sunk in profoundest silence. This order shattered his half-formed plans : it forced him to turn his back on the first morsel of real, vivid interest and delight that he had tasted for years, to forego the elucida tion of the mystery which tantalized and attracted him. It seemed a lifetime since the same fierce eagerness had thrilled his nerves, and it came back to him like renewed youth. A question from the judge broke the spell and compelled his attention. 1 Pardon me ! I did not hear." 14 1 merely asked if the view from the balcony above an swers your expectations, Herr Rittmeister ?" "What view?" asked Steinhausen, quickly. " I have not yet had a chance of seeing it." " Why, Lies," cried her father, impatiently, "why did you neglect my request ? Now, perhaps, the Rittmeister may leave without seeing the best view from the villa or from anywhere else in the neighborhood. Please conduct him at once to the upper balcony. I would gladly accom pany you; but letters I have neglected this afternoon must be written, and pray do not miss this fine sun set." Lies rose silently, hesitated an instant, and then, bowing to Steinhausen, Jed the way through the salon to a stair case ascending to the first floor. Here the Prussian officer exclaimed, "I believe it would only be polite in me to re lieve you from the performance of a task so evidently un welcome ; but I should like to see the view of which your- father spoke." " It is no unwelcome task to show you the beauties of a land so little esteemed by your countrymen." . MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOWf 43 , " Little esteemed ! Why do you say so?" K " That is of no consequence. Pray follow mo, and con fess that Saxony at least has beauty of which you cannot deprive her." She smiled as she spoke with something of jest and earnest, preceding him up-stairs and through another salon which Steinhausen had not yet seen. The long French windows of this apartment opened on a balcony which ran along the north side of the house, and, passing through one of them, Lies leant against the balus- | trade, and with a silent but expressive gesture stretched | out her hand toward the wide landscape, and then let it t slowly fall to her side. I Pre-occupied as Steinhausen was by his eagerness to im prove this probably last tete-a-tete with the object of his admiration, he was for a few seconds riveted by the un usual beauty of the view before him, Below rolled the broad silver "* silent highway " of the Elbe. A wide-spread ing plain to the left was sprinkled with villages, each clus tering round church or tower ; and far away the domes and steeples of the capital were dimly discernible. At the other side of the river the banks stretched more or less steepily up to the forest heights, which again led up to the Bohemian mountains ; and to the right, like isolated giants, stood the rocky masses of the Sillenstein, and the royal, for tress-crowned Konigstein, all steeped in the golden haze of a glowing autumnal sunset, all sleeping in a stillness so profound as almost to be felt. Steinhausen looked at the fair scene in silence, and the grave expression of his companion s face deepened and softened into sadness. She leant her elbows on the para pet, and rested her cheek on her clasped hands. At length f. a low sigh, unconsciously breathed, struck on the Ritt- | meisters ear. He turned his dark, stern eyes upon the | figure beside him. "To-morrow," he began, in a softer tone than usual, and *. paused "to-morrow, then, I leave Bergfelder, and per- I haps may never again behold its loveliness." (Hers or | that of the scenery?) "Tell me, now that I am a moment ? alone with you, why you hate me and all Prussians. There is much I want to ask you ; but this first." " I do not hate you ; why should I hate an unoffending stranger? Your nation! Well, I do not love it." "Why?* asked Steinhausen; receiving no answer, he repeated/ Why?" " Surely," cried Lies, quickly, raising her head and look ing full at him, " you can answer that question yourself! Herr von Steinhausen is sufficiently well read to be able to the historical facts of a century past from the old 44 MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW f Brandenburg days and the Seven Years war, down to the present unhappy struggle, Prussian policy has always been the same, aggression and annexation !" Steinhauseii laughed. * What can you expect?" he said ; " ours is no saintly sphere of impossible virtue, but a world of ordinary humanity, where might makes indefeasible right !" " It is a robber s maxim," said Lies, haughtily, and turn ing, stepped back into the salon. Steinhausen followed sharply, placing himself between hr-r and the door; Lies stopped in surprise. 4 Is that all? Have you no more to advance against us?" "I have, perhaps, already said too much, considering what hospitality demands," she replied. ; Hospitality ! rneine Gnadige," exclaimed theRittmeister, with a provoking laugh, " do you not mistake the position? We are not here by invitation, but in obedience to our gen eral^ order as victors ! It is true we have [been well re ceived and entertained, but had it been otherwise, we should have taken all we required and more; as conquerors we are masters at least, for the present." Lies looked at him astonished, as if she could not, at once, quite comprehend the brutality of this speech ; then, the sensitive lips began to quiver, and in spite of her proud carriage, the large blue eyes were suddenly suffused with indignant tears. " Let me pass," she said, " you are " she stopped ; Steinhausen finished the sentence for her" a rude barbarian !" and he placed himself resolutely against the door. " Yes ! you are so earnest yourself that you take my half jest seriously ; will you believe my whole earnest ?" he went on eagerly, hurried by an impulse he felt was utter folly, yet which he could not resist. " I cannot, and trill not, leave you without some explanation some solution of the doubts which are so maddening! Do you not see you have cast a spell upon me? Short as the time is, resent the avowal as you may, I must and will tell you that I love you love you intensely." He tried to take her hand. 4 On twenty-four hours acquaintance !" she replied, with good-humored mockery, although she turned very pale and looked anxiously at the door. 41 You dare not scorn the feeling you have evoked," ex claimed Steinhausen, quickly ; then, seeing the alarm that would speak in her eyes in spite of her efforts to seem coldly calm, "Lieber Gott," he continued, "you do not fear me! Sweetest! best! I love you, I would not disturb or distress you for worlds ; if if you are free, do not re ject me 1 Nay, let me hold your hand one moment, * reso- MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOWf 45 lutely catching and kissing it; "and if as from what I can gather may be the case you are unhappily linked to one who cannot appreciate the treasure fortune has given him, let me atone for the past! the bonds must be strong indeed if love and daring such as mine cannot break them: tell me truly, are you free ?" * I am not, Herr Eittmeister, " said Lies, greatly disturbed, " and even if I were this is madness!" "There is, perhaps, a tinge of madness in it," returned Steinhausen, still holding her hand; "but there is truth and reality in it also," he urged, growing more eager as sho shrank from his advances. "I must tear myself away to morrow ; but let me write to you ! Leave me some straw to cling to; I cannot lose you I - " "Herr Kittmeister," interrupted Lies, collecting herself, and at last releasing her hand, "I cannot listen to such folly ; if you think for an instant, you must see there is almost insult in such an abrupt avowal. I cannot imagine what has suggested such ideas as to my position ; surely my father has not been so imprudent as to but," inter rupting herself, "even if you were not an utter stranger an enemy a man of whom I feel a sort of slight fear I must not, dare not, listen to your words. Let me pass, and I will try and forget all this." Her words recalled Steinhausen to a sense of his own conduct. He saw he had indeed overstepped the limits of good-breeding, but the check made him all the more earnest. " Yes," he said, in a low tone, " I suppose I must seem in sane to a calm, womanly woman like yourself; yet the feelings you have roused are not unworthy of your accept ance. Surely you can imagine a nature different from your ownmore eager, more impassioned, yet not less true. My better self craves for you. How can I convince you ?" " It is useless to pursue this argument," again interrupted Lies, her heart beating visibly under her muslin dress, and pressing her hands together in an attitude of entreaty, " it is only painful and distressing. Even if I were inclined to listen to you, it would but add to my difficulties. I " breaking off and resuming quickly" I cannot believe a eudden whim can cause any real grief, though there is truth in your voice. I am sorry, very, very sorry, to cause you a moment s pain ; but " smiling while the large tears hung on her eyelashes" I have no doubt some good and fair Prussian will be all to you that I must not be." She held out her hand to him, and then snatching it back, as if she had yielded too much, pressed her handkerchief to her eyes, now brimming over. " Let me go," she said, entreat- iBgm " 1 must; it is all over," returned Steinhausen, gloomily, 46 MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW? as he stepped {iside. "Yet, no; I will not renounce the hope of seeing you again of ascertaining what barrier stands between me and happiness." But Lies made no reply, and hurried away, more moved than she would have liked to own. The evening was dull enough. Frau Ghering apologized for her daughter s absence. "She had a bad headache," she said, " and was unable to leave her room the result, probably of walking too much in the fierce sunshine." Again conversation was mainly kept up by the judge and Burchardt, while Steinhausen, in the blackest of moods, inwardly cursed his own folly, first in permiting himselt to be overpowered by so sudden a passion, and then for his mad, useless avowal, while he could only hope that some t fresh fancy might soon drive the present keen disappoint-: 1 menti out of his head or heart, or both. ******* r Next morning did not fulfill the promise of the line sun set ; lowering clouds and drizzling rain had changed the face of nature into accordance with Yon Steinhausen s mood. His brother officers openly avowed their regret at haying to leave such pleasant quarters, and proved their enjoyment of a good breakfast by prolonging that meal till the trumpet summoned them to " mount and ride." The young Fahnrich did not fail to "annex" Clarchen s photo graph ; but, with more than ordinary Prussian honesty, left his own in its place. The eldest daughter was not well enough yet to appear at breakfast ; but just as the Hussars were ready to set forth, she came out on the steps before her own apartment to bid them a courteous adieu. Burchardt and Von Planitz bowed from the saddle ; Steinhausen pressed his spur till his horse was close enough to the steps where Lies stood. "Your hand, "he said, in a low tone, "your hand once more." She hesitated an instant, and then placed hers in , his. "Au revoir," said Steinhausen; "it is not adieu,, { remember." And then, with a friendly salute to the rest of the party, he rode quickly after the others, who had already passed the gate. As they descended the hill, Burchardt and Planitz chat ted merrily, pleased at the idea of being quartered at Dres den, "though," added the latter, "we will not soon find Letter quarters than the Villa Bellevue. And that Clarchen ! she is a little darling. Do you know, Rittmeister, I think: she will be prettier than her sister," continued the youth ful Hussar, with an air of mature experience. Steinhausen muttered some unintelligible reply, tke tono Cfl rv iiich was anything but amiable. MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW t 47 * Hare you discovered if the fair Lies is married or sin gle?" asked Burchardt, unadvisedly. "You were a long time inspecting that fine view from the balcony last even ing." " I know nothing more than you do," replied Steinhau- Ben, curtly. " It would be a bad return for such kind hos pitality to intrude an. idle curiosity on our hosts." "Ay, to be sure. Still, I am not a little curious. There, 17 he continued, quickly, " as good luck will have it, there is the Dorfschulze with whom we spoke yesterday. He will know all about the family. Good-day, Herr Schulze ! If you see the Herr Amtmann, give him a warm greeting from us; and tell me now you have known the family long, I suppose?" " Ja wohl, mein Herr," from the bottom of his chest. Steinhatisen apparently occupied in pulling up his stirrup- leather, listened eagerly. " Is the eldest daughter married ? : "The eldest daughter?" repeated the old man, who seemed not over bright. "Ja, gewiss! (certainly) the poor child! She was married to her cousin, the Haupt- mann Herr Hauptmann Ghering." "Come on!" cried Steinhausen, fiercely. " Why stand in the rain to hear the maunderings of that stupefied blockhead ?" "Married! I cannot understand it," said Burchardt, pressing his horse to come up with his comrades. " I do not believe the old fellow knows what he is talking about. " "Understand! No," laughed the Fahnrich. "I fancy the Fates are against our ever solving the question whether our charming host is maid, wife, or widow." "Fate or no fate, I will find out the truth yet," said Steinhausen to himself. Quickening their pace, the officers galloped on to over take the squadron, and Villa Bellevue. with its mystery and its charms, was among the things or the past. PART II. CHAPTER I. IT was Sylvester-abend of that terrible winter when the great German army lay before Paris, and the Ice King sent his blinding snow and crippling frost to besiegers and besieged alike. Away in North Germany the irresistible monarch had spread his white mantle over field arid forest and n MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW f ain, and the snow lay deep in the narrow, roughly paved streets of a small country town on the frontier of Saxony, kindly softening the noise of vehicles and the tramp or horses to the suffering patients of the Lazaret, which had, since the war, been established in a large open space be yond where the walls once stood, pure and unadulterated, from the Riesengebirgo. Bernstadt had once been an im portant border fortress, but its walls had been long since leveled, and its present status, though not insignificant, was now only due to its position as the center of a riclL agricultural district and a linen-manufacturing population. The first consignment of wounded, after the earlier con flicts of Weissenburg and Woerth, had nearly all recovered and dispersed those fit for active service to rejoin their respective regiments. Even of the second batch after Sedan not many were left ; and, of these, all sufficiently convalescent to be permitted such dissipation were assem bled at the house of Herr Gerhardt Werner, the Wealthy Burgomeister of Bernstadt, who on this New YearVeve held high festivity in his fine old mansion in the market place, which, with its wide staircase, all paneled and carved with wreaths of flowers, its large, well-proportioned rooms and wide landings, was especially suited for entertain ments. From almost every house lights streamed out over the mow and sparkled on the frosted trees. Music and song- and laughter thrilled through the keen air, while countless jfetars looked down over all from a deep steel-blue sky, in- tensified by bright moonlight. The country had begun to breathe after the tremendous Strain and triumph of the last six months, and though ^aiany a sad heart wept for the loved and lost, the general tone was joyous and exulting. Two officers, wrapped in. their large cloaks, walked briskly from the gates of the Lazaret past the Lyceum and the line of trees, where the ramparts once stood, toward the winding, narrow streets which led to the market place. ! 4 What a glorious night!" exclaimed the tallest of the two. "The air, too, is life-giving. I feel myself again to-night for the first time since that Turco s cursed saber laid me low. I may report myself fit for service again in a week or two." "Well, I feel rather shaky still," replied the other, who- was considerably shorter aiid stouter. "A fever ssich as mine takes more out of a fellow than the bullet that caused it. But I am wonderfully stronger since I came up here, and all the better for meeting my old comrade. When you left us after our Bohemian campaign, and retired to MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW f . 4$ the paternal acres, I thought I had lost sight of you alto* gether. But such a call to arms as ours would have roused a German bear, if there was one left, even from his winter 1 sleep." "Yes," said his companion, " I had become almost brok> en-in to the half dead-and-alive life and the loneliness of a remote Schloss like mine, when the call came and set my blood aflame. My only regret was that I could not join my old regiment." "It has been a fight of giants this time," resumed the second speaker, after a short pause, as they turned in to the shadow of a small street, crunching the crisp snow be neath their even tread. " Why, our Bohemian experience was child s play to this; and yet " "How well those Saxons fight!" interrupted the other, speaking more to himself than his companion. "Then and now. And their prince he is a fine fellow." " He is. Ach, mein Gott! how it all comes back, Stein- hausen. Our hot, dusty march through the Bohemian hills, and then our rest at that delightful Saxon villa. I always remember it as the most perfect house in the world. What was the name of the people?" " Ghering," returned Steinhausen. " Ay, Ghering. I wonder, now, was that pretty daugh ter married or not. Did you ever hear of them again?" * Never!" was the somewhat emphatic answer, " though I tried to get some tidings. After the regiment left Saxony I was called away by business to Pomerania, and then to "Vienna. About six months after we had bid good-bye to Villa Bellevue I wrote to the excellent Herr Amtmann, but be never took any notice of my communication. Then various matters occupied me, and the sharp outlines of -my first impression faded. About a year and a halt later I was in Dresden, and made a pilgrimage to the villa, "but they were all gone; the garden was a neglected wilder ness, and a gang of workmen were pulling the house to pieces to enlarge it. No one could tell me what had become of the family. They had left a year before, and were much regretted, especially the Gnadige, who was married, according to one old crone, and single, according to anoth er. I had not heart to ask much or stay long. That is all I have ever heard." "Little enough," said the other (our former acquainance, Burchardt). " I think I have heard of a young lieutenant Ghering, who distinguished himself at St. Privat a Saxon officer." " Some relation, probably," said Steinhausen; and they walked on in silence for some minutes, till, turning into the iB&rket-place, they found themselves before the open door CO MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW 9 of the Burgomeister s house, from which a long stream of light fell upon the snow, and even on the quaint carvings of the opposite houses. "The worthy Burgomeister is holding high revels," said Burchardt, laughing, as he looked up at a row of windows over the entrance, against the blinds of which the strong light within threw the varied shadows of the guests as they moved to and fro. "We convalescents must be prudent, for they say his wine is of the rarest, and his hospitality most pressing." So saying, both officers stepped into the hall, and were immediately assisted by deferential servants to remove their cloaks, and ushered into a handsome dining-room, where the Burgomeister and his wife received their guests, and which opened into a spacious salon beyond, where dancing had already begun with much spirit. The new arrivals were greeted with great cordiality and respect. Numerous introductions, which always in Ger many are the opening ceremony of any social meeting, fol lowed. On the invitation of the host, the officers laid aside their swords and helmets; but reluctantly declined, in obedience to the doctor s injunctions, to join the dancers. " Then," said the host, a jovial, portly man, with curly fair hair and red mustache, * perhaps the Herr Major and you, Herr Rittmeister, would like to go up-stairs to the card-room? You will find some of your friends there. Allow me." And as Steinhausen and Burchardt bowed their assent, he passed on and led them up-stairs to a suite of rooms, some of which were evidently bed-chambers, decorated fe-r the occasion. More introductions and bowings, friendly recognitions and congratulations. At last the attentive host arranged a whist-table for his honored guests. "You have a large assemblage to-night," said Stein hausen, as they waited for the fourth of their party, who had been arrested on his way to the card- table by a lady of large proportions and pretensions, with whom he exchanged many deferential salutations. "I see, no doubt, all the rank and beauty of Bernstadt." "Ja, gewiss!" replied the Burgomeister, rubbing his hands with much satisfaction, "and many families from the neighborhood also. We have Saxons, Prussians, Bohe mians, and a few Russians present this t^vening. You see, H< rr Major, Bernstadt is in a corner, and has three differ ent nationalities close by. I must present some of the most distinguished to you, mein Herr, before we light up the Christbaum after supper; but here is Herr Doctor. 1 will keep you no longer from your game, "and, on hospitable thoughts intent, he turned away. MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW f 61 The wfc:$& party were soon occupied with their game, but not so absorbingly as to prevent a good deal or talk between the deals and* rubbers. The first game was nearly over ; Steinhausen had just sorted his cards, when, raising his eyes, they fell upon a gentleman, in civil attire cer tainly, but unmistakably a soldier from his bearing, standing in the doorway opposite. While Steinhausen. looked, he turned and walked across the room, and the major perceive^ that his right coat-sleeve was empty from below where the elbow ought to have been. The face a broad, strong, sensible countenance, with honest-looking brown eyes, seemed quite familiar to Steinhausen. An other moment^ thought, and the water-color portrait which had interested him so painfully during his short but mem orable stay at Villa Bellevue, came back distinctly to his mind s eye. Yes! it was the original of that well -remem bered -picture who had just passed : if so, where then was his wife or fiancee $ Von Steinhausen felt as if there had been no cessation in his interest and curiosity since he had spurred his horse in bitter impatience, and with a sense of defeat, away from the sleepy little village of Eergfelder, so vividly did the old feelings spring again into being at this unexpected rencontre. His first impulse was to call Burchardt s attention to this one-armed stranger; but he recollected in time that probably his comrade had never seen or noticed the picture. " Pray, Herr Doctor," he said, turning slightly in his chair, " who is the gentleman who has just passed? I think I know his face." "Which?" said the doctor, throwing down the ace of hearts with a triumphant thump. " Oh, a man that has lost his arm; there he is, talking to a lady with the Tower of Babel in curls on her head." "Oh, that man! No! I don t know him; he is a stranger; the Burgomeister has a mixed gathering to night. He must come from a distance; he is no Bern- stadter." Von Steinhausen forced himself to give his full attention to the game. Time enough to hunt up the stranger after ward. No one would leave till after midnight, and the first greetings of the new year. But though Steinhausen played well, and won the game, his fancy teemed with images of the past and conjectures of the future. Was he really to meet the Saxon heroine who had so charmed him, as the wife of another? And, if so, how would she receive him? Looking back after the lapse of a few years, and in the coolness of retrospection, he confessed to him self that the fiery impulse ne had permitted to master him must have seemed a little like insanity to the object 52 MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW f of his adoration. Still his heart beat quickly as he rose from the table the winner of nearly a thaler (stakes were not high in Bernstadt), and looked round for some one to question. The gentleman who had roused these memories had dis appeared. " Burchardt," said Major von Steinhausen, "I wish you would try to find out who it is that is minus his arm, though a civilian. I fancy he is connected with our Bergf elder friends." "Is it possible!" cried Barchardt, with much animation, * * How ! Why do you think so ?" "I will tell you after," returned his friend. * Come, let us have a look at the dancers." He caught a glimpse of himself as he spoke in a long glass, and thought, "My fair foe must have a good mem ory if she recognizes me," for the reflection given back was of a tall figure, considerable thinner, paler, more gaunt- looking than of old, with a thick black beard covering the lower part of his face. The ball-room was now quite full, and the company there in assembled was whirling and ^floating to the sound of the "Blue Danube" waltz, and for a few minutes Burchardt and Steinhausen looked on ; then the former moved away to speak to some acquaintance, and Von Steinhausen, sunk In deep thought, saw the forms of the dancers as if in a dream. Suddenly the Burgomeister spoke to him. "They keep it up gayly, Herr Major," he said. "I think we have a good show of beauty. I wish you could .join them. The fairest maiden of them all would be pleased to have one of the heroes of Sedan for a cavalier." " That pleasure is impossible for me, Herr Burgomeis- ter," returned Steinhausen, gravel v. " But tell me who is the gentleman I observed up stairs, a soldierly-looking man, though in civil dress, who has lost an arm?" Oh ! that is a Saxon neighbor of ours a relation of my wife s Herr Hauptmann Ghering ; he is here with his wife and sister, I think, a young lady who is on a visit with them." "Indeed." " Yes, both handsome women. They are dancing now. There, that is Frau Ghering just passing with the Forst- inspector." Two ladies, each with a partner in the green forester s uniform, waltzed round at that moment, and Steinhausen s doubts were at last thoroughly set at rest. He would have known the pliant, rounded figure, the graceful turn of the head, the simple coiffure, anywhere. Her dress, too, was almost unchanged. The same de scription of soft, white muslin, a little more gauzy MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOWt If what ehe wore at Bergfelder, only the black ribbons were gone, and others, of a bright but delicate blue, fluttered in their stead. Von Steinhausen did not think the sight of her would have sent so keen a thrill of pleasure and of pain through his heart. So he had found her again, only to find her lost to him ! He fixed his eyes upon her unobserved, and studied with intense interest the expression of her face. It was more pensive than before almost sad, but very genfcle; and the s~vyeet, clear, truthful eyes, what a yearning depth in their liquid blue ! She had paused, and stood with her partner opposite Steinhausen, when Haupt- mann Ghering came up, and, bending close, whispered some familiarly confidential communication, at which she looked up with a sudden bright smile, and nodded as though they perfectly understood each other. This was jnore^than Steinhausen could stand, and, the tired musi cians ceasing their strains, he followed the dancers, who began to stream into the next room, and even into the entrance-hall ; but his eyes, in spite of himself, still singled out the attractive figure with unspeakable envy. Had he found her free, still to be won, he would probably have been considerably less moved by her presence. Other motives might have held him back from grasping what he now so passionately desired. That quiet, commonplace Hauptmaim ! on him he would like to wreak his vengeance. He it was who had robbed him of a possible heaven; for, with the ingenuity common to such a frame of mind, he now decided that Lies had only been k engaged" and reluc tantly engaged, when he had met her more than four years before. If this detestable cousin had not stood in the way, what might not have happened ? Steinhausen left out or the reckoning his subsequent occupation, the not unnatural fading of his first impression, and consequent slackness in following up the pursuit ; but now now that she was out of his reach he felt ready to break every law that kept her from him. In this mood he found himself by the gradual dispersion of the dancers as they formed fresh engagements, and returned to the largo salon beside a group who were talking gayly in the door way leading into the dining-room. It consisted of the Burgomeisterin, resplendent in deep red satin and rich white lace ; the detestable Hauptmann Ghering ; Lies her self ; and another, a rather pretty, dark-eyed little woman, in black velvet. They did not at first notice Major von Steinhausen, till Lies, who was speaking with some anima tion, and playing with her fan, dropped it. Steinhausen restored it to her with a deep bow, which she returned, meeting his eyes fully. A startled, eager, questioning expression came into hers, then she looked down, the color E4 MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW? rising in her cheek as she twisted the silk cord of her fan nervously round her fingers. Steinbausen, with a thrill of exultation, observed that, although she did not actually recognize him, bis likeness to his former self moved her visibly. "Major von Steinhcrascn," said the Frau Burgomeisterin, "* pray allow me to make Heir Hauptrnann Ghering, my cousin, known to you. Frau Ghering Fraulein Gheririg," continued the portly, radiant dame, with a comprehensive wave of the band toward both ladies, who courtesied at the same moment; but Lies, with a bright smile and mo mentary graceful hesitation, held out her hand. "Then you are indeed the Rittmeister von Steinhausen I knew in my old home." * How, Lies ?" asked the husband. "Ob, mem lieber Otto! Have I not told thce of our I russian invaders, and how rude I was ?" "Ja, gewiss! but now we all fight under one banner. So ! I am honored to make your acquaintance, Herr Major, and hope you are quite recovered from the effect of your wound. The Herr Doctor bas been telling me you fell in a benevolent effort to save a wounded Saxon officer before Sedan." "You are very good," returned Steinbausen, whose at tention was absorbed by a quick glance from his former antagonist, a glance which spoke an amount of recognition for the aid given to a Saxon which did not help to steady the recipient s pulse. "I was not very successful in my attempt." The gentlemen continued the conversation for a few min utes, the Hauptmann expressing bis regret that the loss of his right arm at Koniggratz had disabled him for further service, and compelled him to turn bis sword into a plow share. Still, " he added, * a quiet home and country pur suits are not bad substitutes for a more stirring life; eh, Lies ?" looking at her a look which she met with a bright answering smile and nod. "Far preferable," she said. You know what I think of war." "May I be permitted ?" said a gray, but slight and ac tive "Oberst Forster," coming up at that moment, and offering his arm to the little dark-eyed lady, who accepted it and walked away with him. The sound of a well-known waltz now came from the salon "Ah, "cried the Haupt mann, " I promised to try this yalse with a little Bachfisch- chen, who said she did not mind a one-armed partner." So saying, he walked away, and Steinhausen was once more virtually alone with the object of his interest. "A Bachfischchen," he repeated, following the current MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW? 55 of his thoughts ; "and how where is your bright little sister Clarchen I" " Clarchen," said Lies: " She is married married three months ago, to a very solemn Professor of History, at Leipsic, much older than herself, and what an ordinary observer would think peculiarly unsuited to her; but they are, and will be, I believe, the happiest couple possible." 44 And you?" exclaimed Steinhausen, gazing at her with an indescribable mixture of pain and pleasure. " How has it been with you all these long years since you turned from me so abruptly that autumn evening in the salon at Villa Belle vue?" She sighed and looked down. "Our life has been some what checkered," she replied, softly. " My dear father s Elain. for raising water and turning his property into a -uitifull and proved a sad, costly failure, We were oblig ed *D leave our sweet home " She stopped abruptly. * I know that," said Steinhausen. " You were all gono wfcen I revisited Bergfelder, and it seemed like looking on &f e face of the dead to be there and not to find you !" 44 You revisited Bergfelder!" she exclaimed, raising her vyes to his in much surprise. 4 How, when?" About eighteen months after the happy days I spent there," returned Steinhausen. " Does it surprise you thafc I returned?" <4 Yes," she said, after a moment s pause. "It does sur prise me very much." 44 Did you then think " 44 1 had soon so much that was painful to engross me, that I ceased to anticipate anything so pleasant as a visit from you, Herr Major," interrupted Lies. She spoke in a tone of conventional politeness. 4 And where do the Herr Vater and Lieb Mutter now reside?". resumed Steiuhausen. "In Leipsic," she replied, with a slight unconscious sigh. 44 How they must miss you!" exclaimed Steinhausen. "Miss me," repeated his companion; 4 oh, yes! but then " "Bitte, mein Herr," interrupted the Burgomeister. "Bitte, lead this fair lady to supper, the tables are set, 1 the worthy man hastened on. "Permit me," said Steinhausen, offering his arm. "I did not anticipate so great a pleasure when I carelessly ac cepted the good doctor s permission to partake of this fes tivity ; I began to think that my evil fortune would never again permit my eyes to be gladened by the sight of you, and it is a joy to meet you you must know that." 66 MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW? Lies laughed. "I am happy to bestow pleasures* cheaply." 41 Ay I but to receive it may be costly," said Steinhausf^s, in a low tone. To this she made no reply, and they enter ed the principal salon, now, after the German fashion, thickly studded with little tables, round which merry parties, from three to seven, or even ten in number, con gregated. Each table was carried in ready decked, and then furnished with several bottles of wine, while the busy waiters glided about laden with divers good things great pike, adorned with artistically sculptured cucumber, and pickled mushrooms swimming in richest mayonnaise, or long, slender Meissen dishes; saddles of venison ready carved in slices, and cunningly laid together ; fowls white as snow, or richly, deeply, beautifully brown. Salads of every description; huge turkeys served hot, with cranber ry sauce ; cakes in the endless profusion and variety pecul iar to Germany ; and if the humble "Wurst" of every day life obtruded itself among the more rechercne viands, it only completed the cosmopolite character of the feast. "I had no idea an obscure town like Bernstadt could turn out so fine a display, " said Steinhausen, who had con* trived to secure a table suited to a tete-a-tete supper, and was attending assiduously to the wants of his companion. * Let me fill your glass this is excellent Rhenish to our speedy and complete fusion ! To a united Germany ! Eh, meine Gnaclige? I think Saxony is well disposed to rest under the shadow of the Black Eagle." "You think so?" she said, in a tone of dissent, yet not refusing to clink her glass against his. "That is your deep-rooted conceit. You account for all shades of national feeling in the way the least offensive to your self-love. Hanover shows herself a sullen irreconcilable that is but .a narrow fanaticism, which blinds her to the advantages of union with her powerful neighbor. Saxony, enduring her anguish in the silence of pride, is supposed to hug her chains/ Ah, Major von Steinhausen, long years will elapse before the forced fusion you exult in becomes real brother hood. 1 "So your ideas are still the same!" he exclaimed. "Would to Heaven you were unchanged in every way I But Prussia is right to seize what she desires at the first favorable moment. Hesitation, delay, might have blight ed her hopes, destroyed her prospects, as they have done mine. You cannot affect to misunderstand me 1" he added, as he caught a look of astonishment in her eyes. " You are a little enigmatical, I must say," she replied, MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOWf 57 as a fat little man in uniform came, almost at a run, across the room to clink his glass against Steinhausen s. l So glad to have you amongst us again, lieber Herr Major, Six weeks ago I never thought you would leave the Lazaret, except feet foremost." "Thanks to your good care, my friend." Then more people came to clink glasses, and Steinhau sen had to rush to one or two distant tables to perform a similar ceremony, and a break in his conversation with Lies was unavoidable. This custom of health- drinking lends much animation to a German supper, and effectually breaks down the barriers of solemn state mariners. There is a kindly simplicity and heartiness in it, albeit it leads to some confusion. To skim lightly over a highly-polished parquet, with a bumper of Khenish in one s hand, skillfully, to avoid collision with numerous individuals bound on similar errands and proceeding with equal velocity, and finally to come up successfully alongside the right table, without depositing yourself, body and wine, in the lap of some largely devel oped dowager intent on a plateful of savory meat, or on the neck of some tender Fraulein, as she bends her friz zled, curled, plaited head over the motto of a bon-bon, requires an amount of ability and practice not easily ac quired. But the frequent encounters, full tilt, which do occur, only add to the hearty vivacity of the scene. Per haps this spirit of enjoyment, perhaps a sudden return to more generous food and drink than he had lately been ac customed to, combined with the mixture of bitterness and delight which arose from his meeting with Lies in her new condition, all helped to excite in Steinhausen a reckless determination to enjoy this possibly last chance of free intercourse with his lost love, and, coute qu^il coute, to express his feelings to her before they separated. Something in her manner and bearing gave him an unde fined sense of encouragement. His scarce- veiled admira tion was not repulsed with the cold dignity he would have expected from Lies as a wife. She was certainly glad to see him, and even her contradictions and conten tions were more playful and indulgent than formerly. Why had she allowed herself to be drawn or forced into marriage with a fellow in every way inferior to her? Why had he (Steinhausen) not sought her out more perse- veringly ? Life had evidently gone hard with the kindly family of Bergf elder since those sunny autumn days of four years back, and hence, perhaps, this accursed mar riage. At this point he drove away, with an effort, these whirling intersecting circles of thought, and hastened back to his partner. 68 MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW? " There!" he cried," I think I have touched glasses with all my Bernstadt acquaintances, and I may repose myself. Whatl no more wine? This is first-rate Johannisberger. Well, if you have supped come up-stairs ; there is a beauti ful moonlight view from a balcony next- the card-room." "Are you prudent to risk cold while you are still convalescent?" she asked. "No," returned Steinhausen, with an expressive glance, " no cold will touch me to-night. . But you" he caught up a large fur-lined mantle as they passed a stand full of helmets and military cloaks you have not the same safeguard ; and at least for another blessed hour you are my care." Lies made no reply, and they reached the balcony in silence. Steinhausen carefully wrapped the cloak he carried round the slight figure of his companion, and they stood a moment contemplating the scene. The garden and lower portion of the town sipped somewhat steeply down from tiie Burgomeister s residence, the snow-laden, frozen trees nearest glittering in the gleams of light from the brightly illuminated house; then came the irregular, pointed snowy roofs, and beyond, the great, quiet hills, sleeping in the silvery beams poured upon them from the now sinking moon. " It is lovely !" said Lies, softly. " When last we looked on a fair scene, together," began Steinhausen, quickly, "I was doubtful, anxious, but not hopeless 1 Why were you so unsympathetic, so uncommu nicative; a word of explanation might have saved me much suffering. Now a real barrier exists between us ! I suppose an insurmountable one." * 4 Yes," said she, and had Steinhausen been less disturbed he might have observed that the " yes " was more inter rogative than affirmative, "then you must respect the barrier." It was the nearest approach to a rebuke she had uttered, and before he could reply she went on : " It is not prudent for either of us to remain here; pray come down stairs again." She re-entered the card-room, and as Stein hausen assisted her to take off the cloak, he noticed thafc she had turned very pale, and her hands trembled. "You have taken cold," he exclaimed; "I should not have asked you to go out there." " It is nothing, Herr Major a momentary chill." " Ha! meiiie gute Freunden," cried the Burgomeister, a little breathless from mounting the stairs, "I have been looking for you everywhere. Herr Major, you have your horses here, nicht wahr? We have just been arranging a sleighing party for to-morrow to Falkenberg; Herr Ad- JfATD, WIFE, OR WIDOW? E8 jutant Stromer will be the leader you will join us, will you not?" 4 With pleasure, gewiss! I do not care what Kiesburg what the doctor says." "Ach, Gott! He comes too! He says it is all right. We assemble at noon, here in the market-place, and" to Lies, as he rubbed his hands exultingly " the Hauptmann has .consented to stay over another day." So saying, he bustled away to complete his arrangements. " You will be my companion, will you not?" asked Stein- hausen, eagerly. " I I fear I cannot, said Lies, hesitatingly. " The party was spoken of before supper, and I promised the Adjutant to accompany him, only Otto did not think he could remain but 1 suppose Grefcchen wishes to go." A slight sigh, which Steinhausen interpreted hastily to mean that Gretchen, the little dark-eyed, doll-like cousin s wishes were paramount to hers. What a scoundrel, to have such a pearl, such a priceless jewel, and not to prize her beyond all else ! " Oh ! I suppose he thought you did not care about sleigh ing," suggested Steinhausen, his heart beating at the possi bilities suggested by this indifference. * Oh ! he knows I like it better than almost anything else." " Can you not manage to throw over Stromer, or will you leave it to me?" t " I think the engagement had much better stand." ". Lies forgive me. I cannot call you by any other name you are unspeakably cruel. In a week or two i musttre- join my regiment ; I may never look upon your sweet face again ; right or wrong, grant me this hour of happiness come in my sleigh." "It would be wiser and better I should not, "she re- turned, in a low tone, and Steinhausen felt her arm trem ble in his ;" and you, you must not, ought not, to forget the barrier of which you spoke." They paused in the doorway to exchange these words, and the band just then began the delightful " Soldaten Lieder Valse." Steinhauscn s keen eye caught the figure of the detested Hauptmann leaning over a chair on which the pretty little cousin was sitting, his eyes, bearing, attitude, all expres sive of the warmest, tenderest feeling he glanced at his companion, and saw that she, too, observed it. " Gott in Himmel !" thought Steinhausen, with all the eager fire of his nature, "is there no way of severing these tangled cords ?" but he only said, as the magic of the music extin- i&&hed his small remaining stock of prudence, "At least 80 MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW- f grant a last request, the worst criminals are not refixsed that ; one turn a first, and perhaps a last tour de valse. Lies made no reply, but as he put his arm round her she raised her hand to his shoulder, and they whirled away, regardless of doctors, barriers, and ail other considera tions, floating to the delicious music! A sudden bump brought Steinhausen s thoughts at least down to earth, or rather the parquet. It was the Hauptmann and his favorite cousin, who were looking into each other s eyes, and un mistakably happy. They sailed on indifferent to the col lision, but in the sudden effort to hold up his partner, Steinhausen felt the quick beat of her heart against his own, as no doubt the sight of such evident faithlessness must have cut her to the soul. " No, do not stop yet; once more round," as she made a slight motion as if to stop; and he continued in l^w, deep tones, " If forbidden anything be yond, at least accept friendship the most devoted. I see and understand all ; and remember, if I can in any way lighten your sorrows, you may command myiife." He pressed her passionately to his heart. * Major von Steinhausen, this is too much, " she returned, stopping resolutely. " You disturb and distress me. You should not forget the obligations of which you have yourself spoken. I scarcely understand you. Promise never to speak in such a strain again. And so good-night ; I am weary, very weary." There was a sound as of tears in thfo Toice as she vanished from him. " What an accursed fool I was to startle her, was Stein hausen s reflection as he looked after her." I must make matters straight to-morrow. I must win her friendship ; better half a loaf than no bread." 41 Ah ! Steinhausen, dancing? That s wrong, and against orders, mein Lieber. I have half a mind to forbid tho sleighing party to-morrow." "Have a whole one, Herr Doctor; it matters not to me." "What! In open rebellion? Why, you must be fit for active service." The party to-morrow will be prachtvoll," said a civil ian standing near. " Yes," replied Adjutant Stromer, "sixteen or seventeen sleighs. Herr Hauptmann Ghering has consented to post pone his return home in order to join us." "I thought his pretty wife would bring him round to her wishes," said the doctor, laughing. "Well, it is hard to say no to a creature like that." "How little they guess the truth," thought Steinhaimn, with the bitterness of superior knowledge, as he wrapped himself in his cloak before venturing into the frosty wr. MAID, WIFE, OR WIDO^f 61 "How $0 dispose of Stromer and secure to-morrow afc lesst." CHAPTER II. & morning after .the Burgomeister s fete fulfilled the i /d of the previous night. Bright, still, and wonderfully clear, a perfect winter s day, as though bespoken for a sleighing party, and nearly all Bernstadt turned out to see the start. The market-place looked quite crowded by the array of sleighs and their gayly caparisoned horses, and the various owners, who were generally the drivers also, were going busily to and fro from their equipages to the entrance-hall of the Burgonieister s house, where the ladies had assem bled, arranging their "parties," and assisting to takeout the furs and wraps with which each was plentifully provided. The snow laden, peaked roofs, projecting windows, quaint carved pinnacles and vanes, which make the street scenery of old German towns so charming, sparkled in the noon day sun; rosy-faced old women, "warmly clad in woolen garments, looked placidly on as they sat, sipping smoking coffee, surrounded by their stock, red apples, golden oranges, and great pale green cabbages piled up in pleasant masses of color, earthenware, felt slippers, fowls, still in their soft gray and brown plumage, glittering tin pans and kettles, and the endless sundries which must charm all strange housekeepers in Germany ; potatoes, bright-colored wools for knitting, toys, gingerbread, baskets, and boots, made in the center of the space a variegated array, and in the interval between the booths and the footway the lino of sleighs almost encircled the market-place. Nearly all had assembled when Steinhansen drove up. He had contrived almost to cover a hired sledge with costly furs, while his servant had seen to the decoration of; the horse, a favorite with master and man; a large power ful animal, black as night, and as fiery as his owner. Steinhausen had not been able to make any move toward robbing Stromer of his destined partner, but he hoped by some impromptu stratagem to accomplish his end at the moment of starting. He therefore paused to reconnoifcer before entering the house, 011 the steps of which he recog-- nized Herr Hauptmann Q-hering in close and animated conversation with the Burgomeister. As he made his way to where the lady of the house stood, various exclamations reached his ear " Ach, Gott! it is too bad, too vexatious." "Such an ausgezeichneter Fuhrer " (admirable leader). " Who will replace him ?" " Oh, the Herr Burgomeister himself." u He is just as good as Stromer." 63 MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW* ""What misfortune has happened, mein Herr BurgcK meister ?" asked Steinhausen, shaking hands with the worthy magistrate. -j 44 Why, the adjutant, Von Strqmer, is suddenly called to meet the Commandant at Konigstein, this evening, and has already started, so we are deprived of our leader. I wanted Herr Hauptmann, here oh! he s gone! to take his place; put he refuses." ^ " We could not wish a better chief than yourself, Herr Burgomeister " jj "Come, come!" exclaimed the Frau Burgomeisterin to her husband, "we are losing time. Take thou the lead, lieher Gerhardt, and let us go. Here, Lies, Lies ! Here is a cavalier for you. Major von Steinhausen, meine cousine has lost hers by this sudden summons to the Adjutant. Go, meine Liebling, the Herr Major will take good care of you, and you can show him the way." Need it be said with what avidity Steinhausen pounced upon this golden chance ? The stars in their courses fought for him at last, he thought, as with a studiously grave, composed air he offered his arm to Lies, who had been hidden by the wide expanse of the Burgomeisterin s figure. She looked pale and slightly confused, but infinitely pretty, in a warm winter costume of gray cloth and dark-brown fur, and a cap of the same, over which a blue head Tuch " (knitted woolen scarf) was loosely thrown to shield their ears from cold and frost-bite. She hesitated and drew back at his approach. * 4 Perhaps, Herr Major, you have already made some other engagement. I can go with " " It is our duty at once to obey," he interrupted, with much decision, and, drawing her arm within his own,, he led her away to his sleigh alnwst a prisoner, so tightly did he hold her hand against his side. Von Steinhausen s movement appeared to put an end to the hesitation; the company began rapidly to arrange themselves in their sleighs, and the Burgomeister under took the duties of leader. When all were seated he gave the word, "Vorwarts," and they started in the order prescribed by the rules of sleighing parties. First came the six t4 Einsparmer " (one- horse vehicles of the unmarried gentlemen, each accompa nied by the lady he had invited; next a large sleigh with four horses, conveying the band; then eight or nine 4 Zweispanners " (two-horse sleighs), each holding four, and driven by married gentlemen, closed the procession. Behind each rode a servant, enveloped in furs, on a sad dle-like seat, his feet resting on a- narrow ledge beneath the body of the carriage. Away they went, the horses WIFE, OR WIDOW f 6? tossing their heads as if proud of their bells, their gay trappings, and the many -colored tufts of hair that hung frcm the arch above their heads. The sleigh-bells rang merrily, the drivers cracked their long whips, the band clashed out a quick march, the metal ornaments of the carriages glittered in the sunshine, the little boys shouted with delight, as the whole cortege swept rapidly down a , narrow street past the Lazaret, and away over a narrow * steep bridge that spanned the river on which the town was built, now fast locked in the frost s icy grasp, into the open country, away past cottages, their windows thickly framed with green pine boughs to keep out the winter blast, past farmyards with their central dirt-heaps congealed, frosted over, and sparkling in the light, past great wide reaches of pure, smooth, dazzling snow, past rare human figures, like walking bundles of clothes, who stopped and stared after the gay company. Away still, leaving all trace of houses and life behind, always ascending, sometimes so steeply that the fresh, eager horses were obliged to go slowly. The goal was a mountain village which lay at the foot of a huge, conical hill, or rather mass of rock, crown ed by some beautiful ruins. Fpllkenburg was renowned as an object for both summer and winter parties, and especially for sleighing " Geselleschaft." Nearly all the drivers were familiar with the way ; but to Steinhausen it was quite new. He was therefore obliged to keep his horse well in hand, to that animal s great disgust, manifested by bounds and pranc- ings which fully exercised his driver s skill and strength of wrist. Steinhausen had wrapped and packed up his companion in the luxurious furs of his sleigh with the teiiderest care, for which she thanked him with a glance and smile of unusual friendliness, and then an awkward silence fell I, upon them. \ " You are half frightened, I see," exclaimed Steinhausea. j at last, looking down at Lies as she unconsciously shrank I nearer to him during some of their steed s wilder perform- ! ances. "No, scarcely frightened, a little uncomfortable, and I fear for you, so lately recovered. This tiresome horse is too much." "No, he is not," said Steinhausen, shortly. "But, meine Giiadigo, you know the road may I venture to give Mohr his head, and pass on to the front I It is this holding-in that makes him troublesome." li Yes," she returned, " I know the road well." With a dexterous hand Steinhausen shaved, perilously fcl-ose, past the foremost sleigh, and then off they weufc 84 MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW? like the wiitd, leaving the rest, who shouted reproaches after them for breaking the line of march, far behind; the black horse, relieved from the indignity of having to follow another, settled down into a steady rapid trot. That s all right," exclaimed Lies charioteer. "Now xve can talk in comfort;" but he exercised the privilege with exceeding caution, determined not to startle his companion into being on her guard. He inquired with deep interest for her brother, and listened with profound attention to her history of him; then he led her on to speak of her new home at Leipsic, enjoying the ready freedom of her conversation now that they kept on in different topics. She was evidently familiar with tha country, and gave him many particulars of its history and traditions. At length, as Steinhausen was beginning to think they had had enough of indifferent subjects, and that his fair companion was rather too much at her ease, the road, which had hitherto been constantly ascending, approached the first rocky, pine-sprinkled hills that guarded the en trance to the valley and village which was the object of the excursion, and began to descend the side of a pictur esque gorge, at the bottom of which, in summer time, gurgled and chafed a little stream, now still and silent in the iron grasp of winter. The hills rose high at either side, studded with huge gray rocks which stood out in all kinds of fantastic shapes, loaded with snow on one side and bare on the other, as the wind had drifted; the great solemn pine-trees looked dark and weird over the exquisite daz zling white which shrouded the earth; the death -like, utter silence was almost oppressive. They might have been the first human visitors that had ever broken in upon the pro found solitude, so far as appearance went. A sense of their complete isolation seemed to force itself upon Lies Ghering. She turned once or twice to look back, and said, " How far we have left the rest behind." " Yes; they will not be up for this half hour," returned Steinhausen, coolly. "But that is no matter. What curi- ous rocks," pointing to a gray mass high above their heads and in front of them. It is called the Basket- woman, M she replied, "and here on the left is the Stein Bock. See! you can trace the head and horns quite well. The shapes of the rocks here are very curious." * Very curious, indeed," said Steinhausen, looking about him. They are strangely worn and cut." Learned people say that a great lake or sea once filled up this valley and the country round, and these rocks are MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOWt 65 worn and shaped by the action of tides and currents. I believe Bohemia was once an inland sea, and we are close to the frontier." " Close to the borders?" replied Steinhausen, laughing, and cracking his whip. "It is a temptation to cross it, and bid our party a long farewell." And glancing at his companion, he laughed again at the expression, half-annoyance, half-fear, that crossed her face. * * You believe me capable of any wickedness, I suppose," he con tinned. "Do you not also believe that, whatever temptation may assail me, my first thought is and ever will be for you. You may trust in my deep regard for you." ( Lies was silent, and when she spoke again it was to direct him which of two rather faint tracks to take. They had traversed the windings of the gorge, which now opened out in an oblong valley or basin, at one side of which was a small "Dorf," the houses looking like white hillocks above the universal snowy mantle that lay thick and soft upon the earth. Over the village towered a sudden mighty mass of rock rising six or seven hundred feet, quite clear from all the other hills, and crowned by the graceful ruins of a " Kloster." The sides were plentifully dotted with pines and gnarled fir-trees; but here and there great sheer sur faces of rock showed bare and uncouth with a sort of sav age strength. Underneath, the road wound round past the first outlying better houses, through the narrow street, aad finally, by Lies 1 directions, they stopped at a larger and more pretentious " Restauration " than could have been expected in so small a place. It was built on the side of the hill or rock, and was reached by a flight of steps. The view over the valley was very charming, and the principal room was quite surrounded by windows that commanded it. A respectable looking woman was standing at the door to receive them, while, within, a warm stove and long tables spread for coffee, with endless piles of cakes, showed they were expected. Steinhausen threw the reins to his groom, and assisted Lies to disentangle herself from her wraps and to alight ; then the horse and sleigh were led off to the stables, and they ascended the steps to the little terrace before the entrance to the 4i Restauration." Here Lies paused, and looking back along the road by which they had just come, said, rather anxiously, " I can see no sign of .them, yet." * I thought I heard a faint sound of music," returned 60 MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOWt Steinhausen; "they are not far off," he continued, and ventured to add, "Are you afraid of Herr Hauptmarin i displeasure at our demarch y " Not at all," she answered; " he is far too much occu pied with Gretchen to think of me." Greatly surprised at this admission, Steinhausen, looking into his companion s ej^es, ventured to observe, "This is to me incomprehensible- to you it must, I fear, be very painful." He spoke feelingly, and with unusual diffidence lor him. "No!" she returned, with what he thought a hitter smile; " on the contrary, it is in many wnys a relief. " Stemhausen s heartbeat exultingly at this extra ordinary avowal, and yet an odd sort of disappointment marred his complete satisfaction. Lies was to him not only a charm ing woman, the touch of whose band sent a subtle, deli cious thrill through every vein, but an ideal woman v too and his first ideal ! For a moment he did not know how- to reply. He feared to presume on her strange he hoped peculiar confidence in him. But her manner left him in doubt, and while he doubted, the first sleigh of the party they had left behind came round a turn of the road trader ike great rock, and rapidly approached. Steinhausen uttered a strong expression of disgust. " I did not think they were so close upon our heels." he eaid. Lies made no reply, but, after an instant s silence, said, as she played somewhat nervously with the scarf she. had taken from her head, "Tell me as we have fallen into a confidential tone why Frau von Steinhausen is not with you ?" " Frau von Steinhausen!" he repeated, greatly puzzled. "Who is she?" " Your wife, of course," said Lies, opening her great blue eyes. "My wife! I have none I never married. Who told you so ?" " I though t I understood you to say that " "You misunderstood or misconstrued anything I could have said," he interrupted, eagerly. " Ah, Lies! distance,, time, various distractions may have dimmed the -first viv idness of the impression you made upon me, but no other lias ever interfered with it. Must I never tell you -of. the frgcny it is to feel that you are another s another who does not value the jewel he possesses " He stopped, for the long line of sleighs were ail in sight, and the first- al most at the place where they stood. Lies still gazed at him as if bewildered, then a .sudden, bright, sweet smile -lit up her face; a quick blush .flitted over her cheek, she looked down and had just begun to , WIFE, OR WIDOW 67 speak, " I think I begin to see how the mistake " when the newly-arrived sleigh-driver shouted from beneath: * You were not so far ahead after all, Herr Major, though you did break our rules so boldly." " Better break rules than bones," returned Steinhausen, hastening down the steps to assist the lady who occupied the Second seat in the sleigh to extricate herself from her furs. She was a pretty, simple girl of seventeen, the Burgo- meister s daughter, and, as soon as she was liberated from her profuse wrappings, she ran up the steps to link her arm through that of Lies, and began chattering at a rapid rate. The rest of the party now drove up in quick succes sion, and the large room of the Restau ration was crowded with gay, laughing, noisy, talkative groups, which con trasted with the death-like silence and stillness which reigned without. Most of the gentlemen charioteers had delayed a few moments to see, themselves, to the accom modation of their horses, but they soon joined the rest, and then coffee was brought, and the pleasant confusion of finding seats ensued. During this time Steinhausen carefully bestowed his at tentions on every other lady except Lies, yet never lost sight of her. He saw that she talked with much animation to nearly all the ladies, and many of the gentlemen. Ho noticed alight in her eyes, abloom on her cheek, that made her, in his opinion, quite lovely; and he attributed both to the excitement of wounded feeling. He saw, too, that brute of a husband of hers speak to her with an angry brow and a look that made Steinhausen long to tear him limb from limb. And how sweetly she smiled upon him in reply ! Steinhausen wondered at her. It would be wiser to show more spirit. So, internally chafing, he sat down with tha rest to take his coffee. Now the ladies, according to German sleighing custom, attended sedulously to the wants of their chilled cavaliers, whose hands, numbed with cold, despite the thick fur- covered driving-gloves, could scarce, at first, hold a plate or pick out the slices of rich cake which were handed round. Opposite Steinhausen sat Hauptmann Ghering, and tha former could hardly bring himself to answer the good- humored, commonplace remarks addressed to him by his successful rival, as he noticed the assiduity with which that -audacious little dark-eyed cousin waited upon him, sweetened his coffee, heaped cake upon his plate, and ab solutely leaned her hand upon his shoulder. It was too barefaced ! But his attention was agreeably diverted. Ha was delightfully surprised by the quiet caro bestowed upoa 68 MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW 9 him by Lies. In after-days he reflected with surprise on tl% pieces of cake he devoured and the cups of coffee he called for on that memorable occasion. It was so heavenly to have the cake handed over his shoulder by Lies s snmll firm hand, and, turning to thank her, to find her sveet eyes and lips so near, and yet, alas ! so far. Why wav she so distractingly kind ? Was it really meant for Irm, or defiance of his opposite neighbor? if the latter, it was im j, wise to rouse suspicion at that stage of affairs. Indeed, ." Steinhausen was beginning to wish he was away in the \ solitude of his own room, that he might think over some I wild plans that would suggest themselves to nis imagina- fe tion. Matters were evidently becoming desperate between the Hauptmann and his injured wife, and Well, di- fc vorce is not such a tremendous affair in Germany, espe cially when a husband has no objection, though he was not so engrossed by his pretty attendant as not to cast angry glances at Steinhausen occasionally towai d the end of the repast. At last, as the vigor of the onslaught some what relaxed, the kindly Burgomeister, standing up in his pi ace, called aloud that they would have no more of daylight than would permit them to view the ruins at least, such of them as were disposed to undertake the steep and slip pery ascent. "Let those who will follow me hold up their hands." Two-thirds of the party obeyed. "Come, come!" cried the Doctor to Stemhausen, "this is too much ! Dancing last night, driving this morning, climbing this afternoon ! I positively cannot allow my patient such license. Stay here by the * Of en quietly and rest, while we make the ascent. I have a journal in my pocket, very much at your service, and perhaps " "My good friend," interrupted Steinhausen. resolutely, * I feel strong enough to set you at defiance, and I am de termined to see the ruins. There is no use in talking to *- me ;" and, missing Lies as he turned round, he went hastily f into a small outer room or entrance-hall, where, rather to f his surprise, he found the object of his search in close con- : versation with Burchardt. They appeared to be enjoying a good joke, for Burchardt was laughing loudly, and [ Lies s mirth, though less noisy, was to the full as hearty. \ Both stopped on perceiving the Major, and, on his asking what amused them, Lies was silent, and Burchardt replied that he (Steinhausen) should know all about it before the day was over. The party were soon ready for the ascent, and with many slid ings, slippings, and not a few falls, with jest and laughter, and much good-humored chaff, they climbed ths steep hillside Burchardt making himself excessive! r -ob MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW f . 63 Boxious by keeping at the side of Frau Ghering, and talk ing in the* most heedless way of that husband of hers,, topic evidently unwelcome to the unhappy wife. At length, as they approached a stiffer part or the ascen :,, Burehardt suddenly found the exertion too much for hircC and turned back to join the older and more indolent mem bers of the company who had stayed behind. I This move, however, did little toward favoring the tete-a* iteie which Steinhausen sought. Lies kept perse veringly with the rest o*f the party, and he had to console himself by walking 03 nr-ar her as possible, and assisting her in the I various difficulties of the path. At length the summit was reached, and the company dispersed to examine the ruins. The small space at th"e top of the lofty rock had once been completely covered by buiklings of rare beauty, to judge by the remains graceful arches, long, pointed, slender windows, the deli cate tracery still unbroken; fluted columns, and ribbed cloisters, the openings at one side showing a sheer descent gome hundreds of feet to a thick pine wood, inclosing a small lake, all thickly covered with the purest snow, and sparkling in the sunshine, already showing a red evening tinge, Here Steinhausen found himself at last almost alone witli Lies, and his first question was, " What were you and Burchardt laughing at so heartily? 41 Oh, only at a mistake one of the party had made the Rittmeisler will tell you about it, much better than I could, Kpw lovely these ruins are, and even more beautiful ia vdnter than in summer, when I first saw them." " In summer !" repeated Steinhausen, unable to resist the painful attraction of one subject. "Then, may I ask \vhen when your unfortunate marriage took place? k> Indeed, you may not! 1 she replied, quickly, This is a topic on which I cannot bear to speak. li 1 beg your pardon for forcing it on you, 11 he returned; "but oneway you will tell me all, you will treat me with the eoiifi<Ienc~e my deepest, tenderest sympathy deserves/ "Major von Steinhausen know.s there is a barrier " she began, in low tones, with averted head. I do, 1 he answered ; " but need it be insuperable?" ** Let nie tell you about these ruins, 1 she interrupted, hastily. " You know the 4 Kloster was built by Celestine monks \yhom the Emperor Charles the Fourth brought from Avignon. The architect " Lies, 11 said Hauptmann Ghering, coming up behind them. tl I wish you would come to Gretchen, she is faint and unwell; 1 arn certain she has caught a chill; do coma * 10 MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW f "This is the most barefaced conduct I ever witnessed," thought Steinhausen, gazing after them with profound amazement, as Lies, without a word of applog\ r , turned at once and accompanied the Hauptmanii in the direction from which he had come. "I did not think Lies would have submitted so tamely; she does not seem afraid of the fellow either. There is something about it all I caruioo understand," and he walked slowly on alone, not by any means taking the deep interest in the beautiful ruins whien. he ought to~have done. Falling in presently with the Burgomeister, they had an agricultural conversation about the resources of the district, the amount of wheat per a^re produced, etc., till the worthy leader of the expedition. gave the word of command to descend. Steinhausen took his stand on a piece of rock, and saw the company file past, the fair invalid hanging on the Hauptmann s arm, who supported her steps with the ut most care and tenderness; Lies followed, the Burgo- meisters daughter hanging on her arm to this pair Stein hausen accordingly joined himself. The descent was considerably more difficult than the climbing up, and Steinhausen found he had enough to do to help two ladies. "Herr Major, can you not confide one of these ladies to my care?" cried a young " Gut s Besitzer," who had turn ed back to meet them; " l you have too much and I too lit tle to do. Erlauben Sie mir, gnadiges Fraulein," and hd offered his arm to the younger girl, who immediately ac cepted it, and went merrily on. Steinhausen then drew Lies s arm through his own, and they proceeded for some way in silence. At last he asked, "When will you explain to me the mysteries with which you seem to be surrounded? Why should you be called upon to attend to that that girl, to whom your husband is so shamelessly devoted ? tell me!" " Major von Steinhausen," she interrupted, in a low, ua< Steady voice, " I must beg of you not to question me now; have patience, and to-morrow you shall have a full expla* nationa written explanation of all that puzzles you. This is due to the the interest you express and seem to feel." " Seem !" cried Steinhausen. "Can you think it seern ing?; " 1 I believe it is real," she returned, and Steinhausen fancied he felt a slight pressure on his arm to which he warmly responded; but all he said was "Thank you." The remainder of the descent was accomplished almost in silence, but with an amount of tender care on tha parl of her companion very intelligible to Lies, MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW?} ?i At length they reached the little Restauration, where the sleighs were already drawn up. "Burgomeister," said Steinhausen, making his way to that authoritative individual, who was issuing emphatic orders, " permit me to lead the procession. My horse is so restless that it is safer for all parties if I start first." " Good, mem Herr Major. Who is your partner?" "Frau Ghering, Herr Burgomeister," "Ah! the Hauptmann insists on escorting his wife back, as she is not so well fainted among the ruins, or some such thing. Why not return as. you came, with Frauiein. Ghering? a very charming companion. ". * Frau Ghering Frauiein Ghering !" repeated Stein hausen, like a man in a dream. "Ach, Himmel! what do you mean? I drove Frau Ghering here to-day." " By no means," returned the jovial magistrate. "You escorted Herr Hauptmann s cousin. I thought you were old acquaintances." "Acquaintances or not," exclaimed Steinhausen. quiver ing with the new light breaking upon him, "1 wish to drive the same lady as I brought down." Good , " returned the Burgomeister. * There she stand?*. If you wish to be first, go." He pointed to Lies, who stood near the door, with down cast eyes, and coloring fco the roots of her hair. Stein hausen strode across the room, and taking from her the wraps with which she was encumbered, silently offered her his arm, silently led her to the sleigh, silently wrapped her up with the same assiduous care, and, taking his place beside her, drove off rapidly. Still in silence till the jRestauration and its guests were left at some distance, then, handing the reins to his groom, who was perched behind, he exclaimed, in an earnest and somewhat indig nant voice : What is this cruel trick you have played upon me? j Give me your promised explanation now." "Indeed, indeed, Herr Major, I have played no trick [upon you," cried Lies, who was still very pale. "Wo j have both been self-deceived. I did not understand that you thought I was my cousin s wife till a couple of hours I ago, when we were waiting for -the rest of our party, and your allusion last night to the barrier which you knew existed between us, made me think you were yourself married. It was awkward immediately to explain. I thought it would be better less less terrible to write. Pray forgive^ " "Meine Geliebte," interruped Steinhausen, trying to find her hand among the furs in which she was wrapped, " the -Cjre that you are free is too delicious to leave rooni TO MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW t for anything but delight. I breathe, I hope again; tell ma tell me how all this tissue of mistakes arose." He had found the hand, which, after a moment s hesitation, was gently withdrawn. * When the Fran Burgomeisterin presented you to us last night, you must have taken Gretenen for Frauleia and myself for Frau Ghering, and nothing occurred to correct the error. My own conduct must have confirmed you in your mistake/ "I see it all," cried Steinhausen; "but go on, explain everything, the old mystery which so puzzled me at Berg- f elder. 1 "Ah! that is a long story," replied his companion, the color coming back to her cheeks, and a sweet conscious smile to her lip, as she proceeded to relate the history, in terrupted by pertinent questions from Steinhausen, which drew out minuter details. Lies, it appeared, had a sister a few years older than, herself, to whom she had been fondly attached, and whom she closely resembled. This sister was early married to her cousin, the Hauptmann Ghering a very happy but short-lived union. At the end of two years the young wife was carried of? by fever, leaving an infant daughter first to afflict and then to comfort the bereaved father. About a year and a half after the death of hex sister, Lies was greatly surprised by a proposal from her cousin that she should be that sister s successor, and mother to the little niece she cherished so fondly. In Germany such a proposition had in it nothing revolting, and although Lies at first, from a personal disinclination, rejected her brother-in-law s oft er, she was over-persuaded, especially by her mother, to accept it, stipulating only that the en gagement (almost as serious an affair in Germany as a marriage) should not be formally announced until the sec ond year of her brother-in-law s "widowhood had elapsed. Before that period a strong conviction had grown upon her that she could not and ought not to complete the sacri fice urged upon her by her family. At length, by a tremen dous effort of moral courage, she brought herself to explain her difficulties to the Hauptmann himself. A most pain ful struggle ensued, for the unhappy widower was more in love with her than she believed, and angry beyond de scription at his disappointment. The war of ! 66 broke out at this juncture of the family history, and Lies had first to endure the great trial of parting on unfriendly terms from her cousin, for whom. she had a sincere sisterly regard, and then the further grief, when he lay severely wounded after Koniggrats, of nis refusal to permit her to go and nurse him, or to coma MAW. WIFE, OR WIDOW1 18 to Villa Bellovue, that the whole family might care for arid tend him. In this depressed mood, saddened and sobered by the disappointment she had caused to every one, she was roused to a little 9f her old playfulness by Clarchen s report of the curiosity respecting herself expressed by the Prussian Bittmeister when looking at her photograph, and which the little u Bachfischchen " accidentally overheard. 1 lies determined that the intruder should not be grati fied , and gave the servants strict injunctions to that effect. I Accident, and her father and mother s warm sympathy \ with the rejected Hauptmann, assisted her game, which \ the unexpected fire and earnestnesss of her Prussian ad- * mircr made more earnest than she had anticipated. Hav ing once mystified him, she was ashamed to explain, and his evident sincerity half alarmed, half interested her. So much she could not help acknowledging. Many anxieties and serious losses followed the disappear ance 01 the Prussian troops, and amid this general gloom her only gleam of comfort was the announcement of her cousin and Brother-in-law s engagement to a pretty Silesian. girl, a relative of the Burgomeister, well connected and well dowered, and the consequent restoration of the frank friendliness which used to exist between them. Herr Haupt- mann Ghering had been about a year married, and this was Lies first visit to her kinsman in his new home. All this, and many more particulars, answers to Stein- hausen s questions and minor explanations, occupied almost all the drive back. They were already over the bridge when Lies voice sank into silence. "Tell me," asked Steinhausen, who had again taken the reins, * did you ever think without indignation of the auda cious enemy who dared to speak to you of love on scarce twenty -four hours acquaintance? I confess the memory of it appalls myself. Yet, meine Liebe, liebe Lies I it was a true instinct, which urged me to grasp the jewel that seemed within my reach. Have you forgiven me yet?" I ** Ah, yes!" saia Lies, and there was a sound of tears m Iher voice. * You were abrupt, and and perhaps audacious ; but I think you were more in earnest than I then be- , lieved." ." And I am as earnest now as then. I am no longer a foe. Prussian, and Saxon, and Bavarian we have foughfe side by side; we have suffered and conquered together. You have surely learned to look on me as a countryman ; take me for something closer and dearer still. * " But after all, Herr Major, she returned in a very trem ulous tone, ** we know very little of each other. Would i not be wiser * ?4 MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW? " Grott in Himmel!" cried Steinhausen, "is there no Toice in your heart to plead lor me ; no answering instinct to draw you to me as I have been fascinated by you? I ask you for life and home and happiness, and 1 ask to bestow the same on you." These words brought them to the Burgomeister s house, and Steinhausen, without waiting for a reply, assisted his companion to alight, and felt with a triumphant sensation that she was trembling perceptibly. Leaving his sleigh to the groom s care, he followed Lies across the , hall to a well warmed and lighted room leading to the salon. " I wait your answer, 1 lie said, earnestly. "Are you so indifferent so averse to me? 1 " I have tried so hard not to think of you," said Lies, softly, a very sweet smile stealing round her lips, " but I almost fear to say " "Yes!" cried Steinhausen, rapturously. "Why hesi tate, why torment me any longer?" Then drawing her to him, "I claim a double privilege, as your bridegroom, and your sleighing partner," he said, and folded her in a long, passionate embrace, kissing tenderly the tear ful eyes raised to his, the gentle yielding to his caresses speaking consent more eloquently than any words. "One request, my sweetest bride!" exclaimed Stein hausen; "you must not refuse, for it is my first. In a month I must again be with my regiment; let us not parfc as betrothed, but as husband and wife; you are noble enough to rise superior to trifling considerations. Let us fo to the good father and mother they will be my friends, am sure and then, dearest, no senseless delays. These are trying times, and I shall feel strong for whatever hap pens, when I know I leave behind a wife, with all a wife s rights and claims do you consent to this ?" "I think you are very kind and good," returned Lies, divining his object, and pressing his arm with shy tender ness. " I understand you, I believe. Let us be guided by what my parents decide." But the brief moment of quiet was over. The cracking of whips, the sound of the sleigh bells, the shrill shouting of boys and the glare of torches, announced the arrival of the Burgomeister s party, and Steinhausen went out to meet them, while Lies stole away to her room. 44 Ah! Herr Major, you have lost the be*t part, our torch light return," cried the Burgomeister and the Hauptmanu together. 44 Lost !" cried Steinhausen, joyously, as he embraced the Hauptmann, much to that gentleman s surprise, * I hay$ won, my good cousin! won all that I wanted I * ^,, > .^.. ITHB END,! MAID, WIFE, OH WWOW9 A LADY-GUARDIAN. "INDIA has not taken all traces of civilization out of you, Dick." "Why should it? Anglo-Indian society is well, if it cannot boast, of so many dukes, marquises, and earls as your Belgravian circles, it is at least as exclusive." "And as artificial, I have no doubt." "Possibly. Where will you find nature nowadays? Robinson Crusoe s island does not exist. Nothing can stop a railway-contractor or an advertising-agent." " Or the ubiquitous tourist. But do you know I have a notion that nature pure and undefiled is to be occasionally discovered where it might be least expected." " And where is that?" " In human nature." " Paradoxical as of old, Jack," laughed Captain Richard Trevor of her Majesty s th l^ot. " Practical, it would be nearer the truth to say. My philosophy is based on observation." "And fashioned by your own kindly heart, which lam afraid often invests human nature with good qualities , Vv hieh it docs not possess." % The two w^ere sitting in Walsham s chambers. It was f dusk, but the room was sufficiently lighted by the bright s fire to enable each to see the other s face. Trevor had been ? narrating some of his experiences in the far East, Walsharn listening and occasionally throwing in a word, half serious- : ly and half whimsically, as was his wont. Presently the latter rose, and, stretching himself lazily, inquired what Trevor intended to do with himself thai evening. " Oh, I shall go to my rooms and pack up ! You know I start for Clevelands to-morrow. I shall probably stay a fortnight or so with my mother." " Well, but packing up won t take you more than half *n hour. Come with me to Mrs. Lansdowne s." "And who is Mrs. Lausdowne I" TO MAW, WIFE, OR WIDOW? "To know Mrs. Lansdowne is to know everybody that is to say, everybody worth knowing. It is her * At home to-night, and she will be delighted to catch a newly- imported lion. I will introduce you as a roost redoubtable warrior, who with his own right hand has cut oif the heads of at least twenty Afghans/* 4 Then I don t go," returned Trevor decidedly. * I hate being made a show of." " Then," laughed Walsham, "you shall appear simply in the capacity of ray friend." "That is better." Mrs, Lansdowne, Trevor discovered, was a lady whose whole aim in life appeared to be the making of fresh ac quaintances. No sooner did a man or woman make a name, whether in art, literature, or science, than she never rested until she had obtained an introduction, and exhibited her prey at one of her At homes. She had a never-ceasing flow of small talk, untiring perseverance, and a certain amount of tact which enabled her to avoid the shoals and quicksands to which her ignorance exposed her. She was a little dark-haired woman, with bright eyes and mobile features, and, though not handsome, was decidedly pre possessing. "You have just come from India, Mr. Trevor ? I am so glad, because Prof essor Mopus is here this evening." Trevor bowed, but did not look particularly exhilarated by the intelligence. " Of course you .have heard of Professor Mopus, the great Indian explorer? His book on the Himalaya Mountains is the book of the season most interesting. You will get on together famously." "I have never been to the Himalayas," replied Dick, rather tartly. " Well, but you ve both been in India," went on the un daunted Mrs/ Lansdowne. * You ll find the Professor charming. Ah, there he is !" And Mrs. Lansdowne darted toward a short fat man with a bald head and a black bea/d, who was talking with great vigor to an admiring knot of listeners. "For Heaven s sake, Jack, get me away from here ! The woman s a perfect ogress 1" Walsham laughed, and slipping his arm in his friend s, mingled with the crowd ; and, some fresh arrivals coming in at the moment, Mrs. Landowne s attention was fully occupied, and she thought no more of Trevor and the Pro fessor. ."I breathe more freely," ejaculated Trevor, when a compact mass of at least a dozen persons separated aim MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW* 77 from the indefatigable lady. "What an infliction she must be to her liusoand if she has one !" "He takes it very easily draws cheques and says noth ing. You ll him somewhere about, looking rather miser able, He s an inoffensive creature who does as he is told ; and what more can a wife want 1" Trevor was wearied by the incessant din for, as it seem ed to him, everybody was trying to talk down everybody else and gladly hailed the h aren of a recess wherein was a seat from which he could see the greater part of the room. " Do you not want to be introduced to any of the celeb- jritioMf inquired Walsham airily, as he seated himself by Ihe Bide of his friend. "I hate celebrities," rejoined Trevor. "I never know tvhcther to be awestruck or familiar when Tm with them." " Well, then, what do you say to beauty? There are yen, I should say at least two beautiful women in the room." " 3 detest beautiful women. They are invariably Tai3i, n Walsham gave a low whistle. "Dick," said he, "you were confiding enough to me this afternoon; but I don t think you confessed every thing. You have been hard hit in India some dusly damsel eh?" "j oph nonsense!" returned Trevor, his brown cheek assuming a warmth of color which betrayed him. " You re out, c!0 far as dusky damsels are concerned. The fact is wel j, I don t know"why I should not own at once that I have been made a fool of." " Every man is once in his life, and generally oftener," remarked Walsham. " Once is quite enough for me. Here s the whole story. Our- regiment was previous to being ordered to India quartered for about three months at Maidstone. It s tha old tale love, parting, tears, kisses, vows. Eight years go over, and I come back with a mad belief that there is truth and constancy in women, and - " "You find her Mrs. Smith or Robinson fat, and inter ested in nothing but Tommy s whooping-cough and Polly s "Well, it was something like it. I must confess I was thoroughly freed from my illusion." ** Of course you werenor will it be the last time, old man," " Indeed it will that way. I ve made up my mind riot to marry." 7S MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW f Walsham did not reply, but elevated his eyebrows in a quizzical fashion, and then said, apparently a propos of nothing: "Yes, she is an extremely handsome girl/ v Dick started. While he had been narrating his disap pointment, his eyes had wandered to a group of half a dozen men surrounding a young lady who was talking with great animation. She was a little above the middle height, with a figure exquisitely proportioned; her features had scarcely sufficient regularity to be called perfect, but this was fully compensated for by the brightness of her smile and the sparkling light in her dark violet eyes. There was no reason why Dick Trevor should have started: but it might have been because his friend had so accurately in terpreted his thoughts. "You ought to know Miss Merivaile. She is a neighbor of yours at Clevelands," went on Walsham. " I don t remember the name." "Ah, very likely! They came to live there since you went away. She is an awfully clever girl, is a believer in Darwin and Herbert Spencer, and has written a pamphlet on the electoral disabilities of women." " Good Heaven, Walsham, what a pity ! I think strong- minded women intolerable." "Well, some are, I admit; but there are exceptions. Come let me introduce you to Miss Merivaile, and you shall judge for yourself." Trevor hesitated. He had a horror of " blue-stockings. 1 * At the same time he could not but own that there was nothing of the " blue-stocking " in the appearance of the young lady in question ; even her hair was not cut short, but neatly arranged in a classic knot at the back of her head. Walsham, however, disregarded his feeble protests. He found himself urged forward; and the next moment he was plunged into a conversation with Miss Merivaile, for Walsham had luckily selected a moment when the group hitherto surrounding the lady had broken up. * We are discussing the question of the relief of the poor, Captain Trevor," said Miss Merivaile. "What are *yo ur views on the subject 2" *"Pon my word," rejoined Dick, somewhat aghast, er really know nothing about it. The beggars in the streets are an awful nuisance ; but I find it saves trouble to give them a few pence at once, rather than to have them cackling after one for half a mile or more." "Ah, that is the way thoughtless persons pauperize the country ! Nothing is more pernicious than indiscriminate almsgiving." MAID, WIFE, OR VSIDbJPt TO -Captain Trevor drew himself up a little stiffly. He rather objected to be classed as a "thoughtless person, "especially by a young lady at least five years his junior. But, though he was nettled, he could not kelp thinking how well that- earnest expression became Miss Merivaile s eyes. "Do you intend to stay long in England?" asked Miss Merivaile presently. " Probably two or three years." " Then I should advise you to put up for guardian on the Clovelands Board. I was elected last year, and intend to come forward again." Trevor stared. Did he actually hear Miss Merivaile say she was a guardian of the poor? "Surely there must be some mistake ! " I I beg your pardon but I don t quite understand." " Oh, there s no difficulty in understanding the duties! Unfortunately we guardians are allowed so little latitude by the Local Government Board that everything is simply a matter of routine. " Dick gasped for breath. His ears had not deceived him. "But do you mean to say that you a lady "he very nearly said " female " " are a guardian of the poor?" "Certainly," returned Rhoda Merivaiie serenely. "I am also a member of the Clovesdon School-Board. " Worse and worse! Trevor was dumfounded, his con fusion being increased by the amused smile which was dancing in Miss Merivaile s eyes. "I I am afraid that my notions are rather old-fash ioned, Miss Merivaile," he stammered. " You mean that you do not approve of women taking an active interest in the social and moral progress of the poor." "Well er I am not sure that I have thought very much about the matter. I confess that years ago is seemed to me the chief object in life which young ladies had was to get married ; but I suppose ail that s changed now." Dick Trevor looked up suddenly, and their eyes met. "Was it his imagination, or did he see a faint blush on the fair cheek of Rhoda Merivaile? "Not quite, I think, "she answered, calmly. "There is still much to labor and hope for in the improvement of women s ideas." " Confound it!" was Dick s mental comment. t! I won der whether she regards old-maidism as woman s proper rphere?" Yet he could not but confess that no one could look less like an old maid than Miss Merivaile. " Weil," said he aloud, "I dare say you are right; but I hope will not find fault with me if I prefer the woman, MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW? of the old school, whose ambition it was to be the cook, the best needlewoman -in short, the best wife i world. Had Walsham overheard him, he would have been amused, for Dick was absolutely enthusiastic. AH his cynical philosophy of half an hour before had disap peared. " In other words, that she may be a useful slave to her husband," Miss Merivaile remarked quietly. Substitute companion for slave, and I agree with you. I can scarcely imagine a lady-doctor, or or Or a lady member of a Board of Guardians, 11 put in Mife Merivaile. " I would rather say an authoress," said Trevor, a little awkwardly, for the suggestion of Miss Merivaile was cer tainly on his lips, and he held checked it only in time. " Well?" said Rhoda, with a provoking composure which did not lessen his embarrassment. " What I was about to say was that I did not think ladies whose time and attention were so fully occupied with the affairs of other people could interest themselves sufficiently in domestic matters to make good wives." It was not a very gallant speech in the circumstances, and Trevor felt it was not, for he added immediately after word "Forgive me if I speak my thoughts too plainly/ " ] am grateful that you have been honest enough to say what you think. I hope some day you may have reason to change your opinion." Trevor would have proceeded further in his apology, for there was a seriousness about the young lady s manner which made him think he had, despite her words, really offejided her. However, at that moment Mrs. Lansdowne came up and bore away Rhoda in triumph to the piano forte. Miss Merivaile was an accomplished musician ; and . - the next minute a subdued hush went round the room s i preparatory to a performance of Beethoven s " Moonlight * / sonata. "Let us go, Walsham," whispered Trevor, after five minutes of Beethoven. " My neighbor Miss Merivaile may fee very nice ; but she is too clever for my taste. Just im agine what it would be to be her husband !" The next day Dick Trevor was speeding toward Devon shire in the Flying Dutchman. 11 It is pleasant to be here once more, mother," said he, a# lie lounged, pipe in mouth and bands in pockets, from, tiifi garden into the sunny morning-room shortly after his arrival. "The old place has not changed a bit, excepting that the box-trees are perceptibly larger." MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW f 81 , Gt~<}r, why should it? Your father was perfectly contented w*th it as it is, and so am I. But Clevesdon is not what it WBS. There has been a great deal of building; a railway Ivs been brought to the place; there is a large manufactory which fills the valley with smoke from its dreadful chtomeys, and there is actually a Board-school. . Really, if I K.&d not lived in Clevesdon for so many years, i I should be kjclined to move. 1 \ What a si ,ame ! By-the- way, mother, talking of Sclxool- i Boards, I hea that we rejoice in the possession of a lady- member.** part. I m thankful to say for her. You. Cannot imagine what a scandal it caused ." "No doubt, returned JDick. "But did she hold meet ings and speak Of course- wid actually contradicted the Rector to his face! I canno\ think what women are coming to nowa days. I m sure such boldness would not have been toler ated when I wai young. And then to have one s nanao in the Clevesdon Ji urnal every week and positively written about ! My dea *, think of that !" This, to Mrs. Trevor s mind, capped everything. The report of the pro jeedings of the School Board was, in her opinion, very mi eh the same thing as the report OL fche cases at the Quai ter and Petty Sessions. Dick felt very \ auch inclined to argue tli3 point with hjs mother, despite tLe fact that not forty-eight hours before he had enunciated sentiments to Miss Merivaile herself not very far removed .from those just expressed by Mrs. Tre vor. But he alte ,ed his mind, and, once more stepping into the garden, sauntered to the stables, and spent the remainder of the Corning in a " horsy " conference with Roger, the old coao"unan. Of course it did n jt matter to him what Miss Merivaita chose to do. Why should it? And there was nofc any reason either why, i a the following Saturday, he sbottda buy the Clevesdon Journal and feel disappointed because her name was not ar^ong the list of members who attended ; at the week s meeting $ of the guardians and School-Board. " Pooh I" he mutteivOd as he walked home. "What an idiot I am to interest rayself in a strong-minded woman I, who hate the very \ $une !" And, as if to empli^ ize this assertion, he strode along the road at a furious pace, oblivious of everything and everybody, or he must lave noticed a quietly dressed lady, with a decidedly coun rified air, who passed him with a sidelong glance from h r bright eyes. 8S MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOWf Nothing happens but the unforeseen ; and so it came about that a bicyclist, trying to pass a carriage-and-pair in a nar row part of the road, went too near to the horses and caus ed them to take fright. The shouts of the coachman made Dick Trevor turn round. He caught sight of the lady standing, as though paralyzed, in the path of the advanc ing animals, and with a soldier-like promptness rushed to her assistance. His aid, however, was scarcely needed, for the driver managed to recover the control of his horses, and all danger was past by the time he had reached her. Still the incident served to bring them together, and Trevor conse quently found himself face to face with the lady. 44 You have had a narrow escape," he was beginning, when he suddenly stopped. "Miss Merivaile!" he ex claimed involuntarily. But the lady did not return his salutation. She looked pale the result no doubt of the fright. It was natural ; but what was not natural was that she did not appear to recognize him. " I had the pleasure of meeting you at Mrs. tiansdowne s a week or so ago." " Indeed! I think you must mistake me for Rhoda. I remember she wrote home that she had been visiting there." "If you are not Miss Rhoda Merivaile, you must surely be her sister. I never saw so extraordinary a resemblance," said Dick. 44 Yes," replied the lady, with a strong Devonshire accent. "I am thought to be greatly like Rhoda." "The likeness is wonderful; and yet, now I look at you, I can see a difference. Your hair, for instance, is different ly arranged. But I ought to introduce myself, especially as I understand we are neighbors. My name is Trevor probably you know my mother?" "Oh, yes; and I have heard of you, Captain Trevor!" Captain Trevor felt pleased. There was a delightful naivete about Miss Merivaile s sister which attracted him, far more than the composure the result of what he termed^ "self-conscious cleverness" of the lady-guardian. The latter had piqued his vanity, her sister had gratified it. He walked by her side chatting about nothing ir par ticular at least, he could not remember afterward wli&t he hadsaid ; but he knew the electoral disabilities of women were never once alluded to, nor was the condition of the poor even hinted at. Presently they arrived at an old-fashioned ivy-covered frnm t,h crarrlpn nf whinli nnmA t.TiA RWA.pt. Rnonf. rv? JK4ZD, WIFE, OR WIDOWf 83 iralifiowera for it was in the early spring; and Miss vaile stopped at the gate. , * I hope," said Captain Trevor, " we shall be friends. ( I hope so too." " By Jove, she s charming!" thought Dick. "Might I lake the liberty of calling?" said he aloud. 1 1 daresay aunt would be pleased to see you." I see two sisters living with their aunt! Wonder if 4 there s an objectionable brother?" reflected the captain. He would have liked to linger, for she was very pleasant | to talk to; but she put out her hand, and he was compelled to take it and say "Good-bye." "She has all the good qualities of Rhoda Merivaile with out the least tinge of the blue stocking!" exclaimed the gallant captain enthusiastically as he walkedthis time slowly home. Hitherto Clevesdon had been insufferably dull even the mild excitement of anticipating Rhoda s speeches in the newspaper had failed him; but now here was an irresistible attraction. I suppose her sister hasn t returned from town yet. Wonder what her Christian name is? No matter; 1 am bound to hear it when I call." And call accordingly Captain Trevor did and not once, but thrice. He made the gratifying discovery that Lucy Merivaile was as domesticated as the most exacting Ccelebs could wish. Her pastry was perfection ; her needlework might have been that of a nun ; her taste in music was not classical, and she preferred Balfe to Beethoven. In short, he was head over heels in love ; and he flattered himself that, as he expressed it, he was not altogether in different to her. A fortnight passed, and by the end of that time it had become quite part of Trevor s daily occupation to call at Laurel Lodge; and, as Miss Dangerfield Lucie s aunt was deaf, it naturally fell to the lot of her niece to enter- t&in the visitor. "You rnet Rhoda in London, Captain Trevor?" said Lueie, as they strolled up and down the lawn after a game of lawn-tennis, in which the young lady proved herself to be more than proficient. M Yes, I had that pleasure. In fact, I cannot congratu late myself sufficiently upon my good fortune in so doing, aw I was enabled to recognize you when we first met." V V And how did you get on with her?" said Miss Merivaile, taking no notice of the implied compliment. "Did she j^ frighten you?" 4 Almost, I must confess. Isn t it rather dreadful wuea 84 MAID. WIFE, OR WIDOWf she ig at home? I suppose she is at work all da} long, i*,al looks daggers at any one who makes the least n r se? " Of course she doesn t like to be disturbed wi ?n she ic bue;y no one does. But we get on very well togi ther." * Ah, that is the advantage of opposite tastes ! suppose yoar Bister never interferes in household affairs?" u Well, she is a good deal engaged in other ways laughed Lucie ; " and making puddings does not quite go w v ,k mak ing speeches." My own opinion, Miss Merivaiie. But does not having seen you fourteen times at least justify me in calli g you * Lueje ?" " Certainly not " "Well, then, Miss Merivaiie, may I say how jhai aed I am that you do not go in for the amelioration * I the working classes I believe that is the phrase like your eister ?" * Oh, I would not be too sure about that ! Rhodat you know, might persuade me to become a guardian like her- .self -which, by- the- way, reminds me that I must say 4 >od bye. to you." " Good-bye!" he repeated, with a puzzled expression. " Yes; Rhoda is coming home, and I am going to R ri* for three months." Three months ! It was an eternity. " 1 hope the time will be sufficient for Rhoda to conyii i e you of the correctness of her views on the woman s rigH a question," she added, demurely. " But, Miss Merivaiie " There I must go to aunt now. I have much to dc, 4 \ I start to-morrow." But he detained her hand, and sli was forced to stay. " Miss Merivaiie," said he hurriedly, "one word. I hav\ something to say which, now that you are going away, 1 can no longer keep to myself. I love you. Will you bi my Ydfe?" She started and turned away her head. When sh< looked at him again, her face was white. "No, nol" she exclaimed faintly. "You must not ask me to be that, Captain Trevor." "Why not I Am I too late?" His suppressed feelings gave almost a fierceness to his tone, and, as though he were conscious of it, he added, in a gentle voice, u I have beE too precipitate and frightened you. Forgive me 1" I have nothing to forgive. I should rather ask you tf forgive me. I never suspected " Sjae paused and turned away her head. "You never suspected I loved you?" he said quickly. " But, now that I swear that I do, what is your answer r MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW? 8S " I cannot give any answer but * No, " she replied ; and then she turned and ran into the house. Dick stood motionless for a moment, gulped down some thing which would stick in his throat, and walked slowly to the garden gate. Dick Trevor was terribly dejected. Like most impulsive ; men, he was as easily depressed as exhilarated; and for the next three days after his repulse life was in his eyes a miserable mistake. Nor was there any consolation when Ehoda Merivaila arrived. While walking to Clevesdon, he saw her in the , i distance coming toward him. He knew her directly, in * spite of her smoke-colored glasses and short-cut hair, and ; would have avoided her if he could ; but there was no pos sibility of so doing without appearing rude. " How do you do, Captain Trevor ? y said she, when they got within speaking distance. He started. The voice was so like Lucy s that, had he had his eyes closed, he would certainly have said ifc was hers. "Thank you, I am quite well." " I have just come from a relief-committee at the work house," said she, in a matter-of-fact tone. "I trust that we shall see you on the board next year." "I think not," he returned. " Confound the board !" he muttered to himself. It s a perfect nuisance. " "I should be very pleased to lend you the reports of the Local Government Board for the last ten years. You d find no difficulty in making yourself acquainted with the subject. " I m much obliged," he began. " Don t mention it. Ill send them to you this evening. I have an appointment at home with the School-Board visitor, so Im sure you ll excuse my running away. Good-afternoon." "Good Heaven!" ejaculated the unfortunate captain, gazing in blank astonishment at the energetic little lady s retreating figure. The woman s determined to make a guardian of me, whether I will or not. If this goes much further, I shall have to fly to town. And to thiiik that she is sister to the most lovable, the most unaffected, the most Oh, hang it !" Miss Merivaile was as good as her word, for about seven o clock that evening a servant arrived with a pile of books bound in stiff paper covers of a repellent blue. Dick gave a sigh of despair when he saw them. "Shall I take them to your room, sir ?" asked his man. * Put them anywhere, Simmons m the " ** fire " he was going to add- "yea, take 88 MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW f And up-stairs they were accordingly carried. During the next two days he kept within doors, for fear of meeting his self-appointed tutor. But this only made matters worse. There was a horrible fascination about Rhoda, Merivaile which made him long to see her again. Besides, he had another reason. After his first burst of de spair consequent upon Lucie s refusal came a reaction. Perhaps he had been too sudden. Lucie had not said sha loved anybody else ; and, if he could only see her again, who could tell, but that her answer might be different ? It was not the first time a woman had said " No " when she meant "Yes." At any rate, if he interrogated Rhoda cautiously, he might find out the true state of the case. And so he took care to be out about the time when he thought he should be likely to meet her. His judgment was not at fault, for, after smoking a couple of cigars, he saw the lady-guardian tripping along at a most business-like pace. Really, he thought, if it were not for the hideous spectacles and the different arrange ment of the hair, and a certain negligent way of wearing her garments, there would not be much to choose between the two sisters in looks. He raised his hat when she approached, and she bowed in acknowledgement, but did not seem inclined to stop. " Miss Merivaile!" said he, hastening after her. "I m afraid I haven t time to speak to you this morning, Captain Trevor, " she answered, scarcely looking round. "1 have a most important meeting I must attend, and I am rather late." "Oh, certainly! said Dick gruffly, He returned home in great ill-humor, and, with a deter mination not to think any more about the name of Meri vaile, took his gun, and covered some twenty miles before he again reached home. The exercise counteracted his ill- temper, but did not take away his intense desire to hear of Lucie Merivaile. Two mornings successively he contrived to meet Rhoda, but each time she was in as great a hurry as ever. Then he took a desperate resolution. He would call at Laurel Lodge and extract some information from Miss Danger- field, in spite of her deafness. He selected a time when he thought Rhoda would be away, and was accordingly ushered into the presence of Miss Dangerfi eld, who received him cordially. "You have almost deserted us, Captain Trevor," said she. * I have been lately a good deal engaged," he shouted. " J am very glad to hear it," nodded the old lady. " There MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW* And who is MAID, WIFE, OR WTDOWf sno too was wearing the odious srnoke-colorad gl-tsses. " By Jove, it s the other one, after ail! , And yet,." lie muttered. Miss Mevivaile," he exclaimed aloud, in peraticn, in mercy s name, tell me who you are ! Are y : - ; JLucie or Rhoda?" l Both," returned the young lady quietly. " It is only j little joke. Captain Trevor. I apologize for deceiving but I could not resist refuting practically your opinion that women who interested themselves in public m, could not find time for domestic duties." And you have converted me entire! 3^. I will : again contradict you on that point. But, Rhoda th I mean Lucie -- " He stopped. The^e was a look on the girl s face v checked Ibis utterance. He drew a lon breath. "I see," said he bitterly. " It is an honor I did no- i pect, to afford you so much amusement. Of course you said in your impersonation of Lucie Merivaile a joke. It v/as very amusing oh, exceedingly funny and will make an excellent story to be retailed a 5 Lansdowne s next reception. Indeed I do not see why il should not figure in the next number of the Bay Budget /" Rhoda Lucie for such was her full name remained pilent. She had risen while lie was speaking, and v^a* standing with her eyes fixed on the floor. "Good-bye," said he, holding out his hand. She hesitated, and then held out hers. "Can you forgive me?" she murmured. "There is nothing to forgive," said he simply. "You were quite at liberty to jest, if it so pleased you. I wa* fool enough to be deceived that is all." "Am I the only one who deceived?" said she calmly, though he could feel her fingers throb as she asked th* question. "I do not understand you." " Is it not deception when a man who is engaged to oru Iv iy makes love, or pretends to make love, to another^ He stared at her in a bewildered fashion, and then a si;d den light broke in upon him, and he burst into a shout 3 laughter. "I see now what you mean. Your aunt told you I WAI engaged." She simply told me what you told her," " But I never said BO. It was all a mistake, causes through her deafness. Lucie I like that name best you in earnest when you said No* to my question 2" ""Xes; I did not tliiafe ^- n if AID, WIFE, 0x3 WIDOW? 88 " I should fall in love ? Your jest has ended seriously- for me," he added with a sigh. " I had hoped that Rhoda Merivaile would have dispelled the illusion, said she quietly. "She tried to do so." 4i And failed miserably." He was looking into her eyes as he said the words, and noted an expression in them which caused a flame of hope to leap into his heart. " Rhoda/ said he suddenly, "supposing I were to put to you the question I asked of Lucie i Corne I will try you f Will you be my wife ?" "Shall I be intensely practical and strong-minded in my " said she, with a glad smile playing about her lips. [THS END.] THE MARK OF CAIN BY ANDREW LANG CHAPTER I. A TALE OF TWO CLUBS. * Such arts the gods who dwell on high Have given to the Greek." Lays of Ancient Rom*?. IN the Strangers Room of the Olympic Club the air was thick with tobacco-smoke, and, despite the bitter cold outside, the temperature was uncomfortably high. Dinner was over, and the guests, broken up into little groups, were chattering noisily. No one had yet given any sign of departing; no one had offered a welcome apology for the need of catching an evening train. Perhaps the civilized custom which permits women to dine in the presence of the greedier sex is the proudest conquest of Cul ture. Were it not for the excuse of joining the ladies," din ner-parties (like the congregations in heaven, as described in the hymn) would " ne er break up," and suppers (like Sabbaths, on the same authority) would never end. " Hang it all, will the fellows never go ?" So thought Maitland, of St. Gatien s, the founder of the feast. The inhospitable reflections which we have recorded had all been passing through his brain as he rather moodily watched the twenty guests he had been feeding one can hardly say en tertaining. It was a " duty dinner " he had been giving almost everything Maitland did was done from a sense of duty yet he scarcely appeared to be reaping the reward of an approving con science. His acquaintances, laughing and gossiping round the half -empty wine-glasses, the olives, the scattered fruit, and "the ashes of the weeds of their delight," gave themselves no con cern about the weary host. Even at his own party, as in life generally, Maitland felt like an outsider. He wakened from his reverie as a strong hand was laid lightly on his shoulder. " Well, Maitland," said a man sitting down beside him, " what have you been doing this long time ?" "What have I been doing, Barton?" Maitiand answered. "Oh, I ha^e been reflecting on the choice of a life, and trying to humanize myself! Bielby says I have not enough humaa nature." B THE NARK OF CAIXT. " Bielby is quite right; he is the most judicious of college doni and father-confessors, old man. And now long do you mean to remain his pupil and penitent ? And how is the pothouse getting on f Frank Barton, the speaker, had been at school with Maitland, and ever since, at college and in life, had bullied, teased, and be friended him. Barton was a big young man, with great tliews and einews, and a broad breast beneath his broadcloth and wide shirt-front. He was blonde, prematurely bald, with an aquiline, commanding nose, keen, merry blue eyes, and a short, fair beard. He had taken a medical as well as other degrees at the university; he had studied at Vienna and Paris; he waa even, what Captain Costigan styles ** a scientific cyarkter." He had written learnedly in various proceedings of erudite societies: be had made a cruise in a man-of-war, a scientific expedition; and his " Les Tatouages Etude Medico- Legale," published in Paris, had been commended by the highest authorities. Yet, froui some whim of philanthrophy, he had not a home and practice in Cavendish Square, but dwelt and labored in Chelsea. * How is your pothouse getting on ? he asked again. " Th a pothouse ? Oh, the Hit or Miss you mean? Well. I m afraid it s not very successful. I took the lease of it, you know, partly by way of doing some good in a practical kind of way. The workingmen at the waterside won t go to clubs, where there is nothing but coffee to drink, and little but tracts to read. I thought if I gave them sound beer, and looked in among them now and then of an evening, I might help to civilize them a bit, like that fellow who kept the Thieves Club in the East End. And then I fancied they might help to make me a little more human. But it does not seem quite to succeed. I fear I am a - born wet blanket. But the idea is good. Mrs. St. John Delo- raine quite agrees with me about that. And she is a high au thority." "Mrs. St. John Delpraine? I ve heard of her. She is a lively widow, isn t she ?" " She is a practical philanthropist," answered Maitland. 8 ing a, little. " Pretty, too, I have been told?" "Yes; she is conveniently handsome/ as Izaak Walton Bays." "I say, Maitland, here s a chance to humanize you. ,Why don t you ask her to marry you V Prett} and philanthropic ,? ,nd rich what better would you ask ;" " I wish every one wouldn t bother a man to marry," Mait land replied testily, and turning red in his peculiar manner; for his complexion was pale and unwholesome. "What a queer chap you are. Maitland; what s the matter with you? Here you are, young, entirely without encum brances, as the adrertifements say, no relations to worry you, with plenty of money, let alone what you make by writing, and yet you are not happy. What is the matter with you T Well, you should know best. What s the good of your being & doctor,, and acquainted all these years with my moral and THE MARK OF CAIN. 3 physical constitution (what there is of it), if you can t tell what s the nature of my complaint ?" 4< I don t diagnose many cases like yours, old boy, dovnt by the side of the water, among the hardy patients of Mundy & Barton, general practitioners. There is plenty of human nature there /" * And do you mean to stay there with Mundy much*longer ?" " Well, I don t know. A fellow is really doing some good, aEd it is a splendid practice Jor mastering surgery. They are always falling off roofs, or having weights fall on them, or get ting jammed between barges, or kicking each other into most interesting jellies. Then the foreign sailors are handy with their knives. Altogether, a man learns a good deal about sur gery in Chelsea. But I say," Barton went on, lowering his voice, " where on earth did you pick up ?" litre he glanced significantly at a tall man, standing at some di*1f.nee, the center of half a dozen very youthful revelers. - Cranely, do you mean? I met him at the Trumpet office. He was writing about the Coolie Labor Question and the Eastern <u:stion. He has been in the South Seas, like you." "Yes; he has been in a lot of queerer places than the South Seas," answered tho other, "and he ought to know something abcmt Coolies. He has dealt in them, I fancy." " I dare say," Maitland replied rather wearily. " He seems to hsve traveled a good deal; perhaps he has traveled in Coolies, whatever they may be." " Now, my dear fellow, do you know what kind of man your gt-evt is, or don t you ?" He seems to be a military and sporting kind of gent, so to speak, said Maitland, " but what does it matter ?" " Then you don t know why he left his private tutor s; you don t know why he left the university; you don t know why he left the Ninety -second; you don t know, and no one does, what; he did after that; and you never heard of that affair with the Frenchman in Egypt ?" "Well," Maitland replied, "about his ancient history I own 1 don t know anything. As to the row with the Frenchman afc Cairo, he told me himself. He said the beggar was too small for him to lick, and that dueling was ridiculous." ui They didn t take that view of it at Shephard s Hotel." " Well, it is not my affair," said Maitland. " One should see sli tvorts of characters, Bielby says. This is not an ordinary fel low. Why, he has been a sailor before the mast, he says, by way of adventure, and he is full of good stories. I rather like him, and he can t do my moral character any harm. I m nofc likely to deal in Coolies at my time of life, nor quarrel with war like aliens." No, but he s not a good man to introduce to these boys from Oxford," Barton was saying, when the subject of their conver sation came up, surrounded by his little court of undergraduates, Tlie Honorable Thomas Cranley was a good deal older than t)}e company in which he found himself. Without being one of tbe iioary youths who play Fatstaff to every fresh heir s Priawe 4 THE MARK OF CMZZV. Harry, he was a middle-aged man, too obviously accustomed to the society of boys. His very dress spoke of a prolonged youth. A large cat r s-eye, circled with diamonds, blazed solitary in his shirt-front, and his coat was cut after the manner of the contem porary reveler. His chin was clean shaven, and his face, though a good deal worn, was ripe, smooth, shining with good cheer, and of a purply bronze hue, from exposure to hot suns and fa miliarity with the beverages of many peoples. His full red lips, with their humorous corners, were shaded by a small black mus tache, and his twinkling bister-tolored eyes, beneath mobile black eyebrows, gave Cranley the air of a jester and a good fel low. In mn.nner he was familiar, with a kind of deference, too, and reserve, " like a dog that is always wagging his tail and dep recating a kick," thought Barton grimly, as he watched the oth er s genial advances. " He s going to say good-night, bless him," thought Maitland gratefully. " Now the others will be moving too, I hope!" So Maitland rose with much alacrity as Cranley approached him. To stand up would shew, he thought,, that he was not in- hospHably eager to detain the parting guest. " Good -night, Mr. Maitland," said the senior, holding out his hand. " It is still early," said the host, doing his best to play his part. " Must you really go?" "Yes; the night s young" (it was about half past fcivelve), "but I have a kind of engagement to look in at the Cockpit, and three or four of our young friends here are anxious to come with me, and see how we keep it up round there. Perhaps you and your friend will walk with us." Here Le bowed slightly in the direction of Barton. " There will be a little bac going on," he continued " un petit bac de sante; and these boys tell me they have never played any thing more elevating than loo." " I m afraid I am no good at a rouni game," answered Mait land, who had played at his aunt s afc Christmas, and who now son, and looking rather at the younger men than at Cranley, " why, I will not balk you. Good-night, Maitland." And he shook hands with his host. "Good-nights" were uttered in every direction; sticks, hats, and umbrellas were hunted up: and while Maitland, half-asleep, was being whirled to his rooms in Bloomsbury in a hansom, his guests made the frozen pavement of Piccadilly ring beneath thfir elegant heels. " It is only round the corner," said Cranley to the four or five men who accompanied him. " The Cockpit; tfhere I am taking you, is in a fashionable slum off St. James . We re just there.* There was nothing either meretricious or sinister in the aspect 01 that favored resort the Cockpit, as the Decade Club was familiarly called by its friends and enemies. Two young Mer- t-.ai men and the freshman from New, who were enioyicg llicil THE MARK OF CAIN. $ Christmas vacation im town, and had been dining with Maitland, were a little disappointed in the appearance of the place. They had hoped to knock mysteriously at a back door in a lane, and to be shown, after investigating through a loopholed wicket, into a narrow staircase, which, again, should open on halls of light, full of blazing wax candles and magnificent lackeys, while a small mysterious man would point out the secret hiding- room, and the passages leading on to the roof or into the next house, in case of a raid by the police. Such was the old idea of a " hell;" but the advance of Thought has altered all these early notions. The Decade Club was like any other small club. A current of warm air, charged with tobacco-smoke, rushed forth into the frosty night when the swinging door was opened; a sleepy porter looked out of his little nest, and Cranley wrote the names of the companions he introduced in a book which was kept for that purpose. "Now you are free of the Cockpit for the night," he said, genially. "It s a livelier place, in the small hours, than that classical Olympic we ve just left." They went up-stairs, passing the doors of one or two rooms, life up but empty, except for two or three men who were sleeping in uncomfortable attitudes on sofas. The whole of the breadth of the first floor, all the drawing-room of the house before it be fore it became a club, had been turned into a card-room, from which brilliant lights, voices, and a heavy odor of tobacco and alcohol poured out when the door was opened. A long green- baize-covered table, of very light wood, ran down the center of the room, while refreshments stood on smaller tables, and a servant out of livery sat, half -asleep, behind a great desk in the remotest corner. There were several empty chairs round the green-baize-covered table, at which some twenty men were sitting, with money before them; while one, in the middle, dealt out the cards on a broad flap of smooth black leather let into the baize. Every now and then ho threw the cards he had been dealing into a kind of well in the table, and after every deal he raked up his winnings with a rake, or distributed gold and counters to the winners, as mechanically as if he had been a croupier at Monte Carlo. The players, who were all in evening dress, had scarcely looked up when the strangers entered tha room. " Brought some recruits, Cranley ?" asked the banker, adding, as he looked at his hand, " J en donne /" and becoming absorbed in his game again. / The game you do not understand?" said Cranley to one of his recruits. " Not quite," said the lad, shaking his head. " All right; I will soon show you all about it; and I wouldn t play, if I were you, till you know all about it. Perhaps after you know all about it, you ll think it wiser not to play at all. At least, you might well think so abroad, where very fishy things are often done. Here it s all right, of course." Is baccarat a game you can be cheated at, then I mean* people are inclined to c&gat ?" 6 THE MARK OF CAfK " Cheat ? Oh, rather! There are about a dozen ways ef cheating at baccarat." The other young men from Maitland s party gathered rou/i3 their mentor, who continued hia instructions in a low voice, and from a distance whence the play could be watched, while the players were not likely to be disturbed by the conversation. " Cheating is the simplest thing in the world, at Nice or in Paris," Cranley went on; " but to show you how it is done, in case you ever do play in foreign parts, I must explain the game. You see the men first put down their stakes within the thin. white line on the edge of the table. Then the banker deals two cards to one of the men on his left, and all the fellows on that side stand by his luck. Then he deals two to a chappie on his right, and all the punters on the right back that sportsman. And he deals two cards to himself. The game is to get as near nine as possible, ten, and court cards, not counting at all. If the banker has eight or nine, he does not offer cards; if lie has less, he gives the two players, if they ask for them, one card each, and takes one himself if he chooses. If they hold BIX, eeven, or eight, they stand; if less, they take a card. Some times one stands at five; it depends. Then the banker wins if lie is nearer nine than the players, and they win if they are better than he; and that s the whole affair." " I don t see where the cheating can come in," said one of the young fellows. " Dozens of ways, as I told you. A man may have an under standing with the waite/, and play with arranged packs; but the waiter is always the dangerous element in that tittle com bination. He s sure to peach or blackmail his accomplice. Then the cards may be marked. I remember, at Ostend, one fellow, a big German; he wore spectacles, like all Germans, and he eeldom gave the players anything better than three court cards when he dealt. One evening he was in awful luck s when he happened to go for his cigar-case, which he had left in the hall in his great-coat pocket. He laid down his spectacles on the table, and some one tried them on. As soon as he took up the cards he gave a start, and sang out, * Here s a swindle! Ncros sommes voles! He could see, by the help of the spectacles, that all the nines and court cards were marked; and "the spec- \ tacles were regular patent double million magnifiers.* " And what became of the owner of the glasses?" "Oh, he just looked into the room, saw the man wearing them, and didn t wait to say good-night. He just went!" Here Cranley chuckled. "I remember another time, at Nice: I always laugh when 1 think of it! There was a little Frenchman who played nearly every night. He would take the bank for three or four turns, and he almost always won. Well, one night he had been at the theater, and he left before the end of the piece and looked in at the Cercle. He took the bank: lost once, won twice; then h offered cards. The man who was playing nodded, to show he would take one, and the Frenchman laid down an eight of clubs, a greasy, <*$r r&i rag, with THEJLTU& FaACWft && THE MARK OF CAIN. T tamped on It in big letters. It was his ticket of readmission at the theater that they gave him when he went out, and it had got mixed up with a nice little arrangement in cards he had managed to smuggle into the club pack. I ll never forget his face and the other man s when Theatre Francais turned up. However, you understand the game now, and if you want to play, we had better give fine gold to the waiter in exchange for 3 bone counters, and get to work." I Two or three of the visitors followed Cranley to the corner 1 where the white, dissipated-looking waiter of the card-room sat, f and provided themselves with black and redjetons (bone count* * ers) of various values, to be redeemed at the end of the game. When they returned to the table the banker was just leaving his post. " I m cleaned out," said he, " decave. Good-night," and he walked away. No one seemed anxious to open a bank. The punters had been winning all night, and did not like to desert their luck. " Oh, this will never do," cried Cranley. "If no one else will open a bank, I ll risk a couple of hundred, just to show you beginners how it is done!" Cranley sat down, lit a cigarette, and laid the smooth silver cigarette-case before him. Then he began to deal. Fortune at first was all on the side of the players. Again and again GJ anley chucked out the counters he had lost, which the oth ers gathered in, or pushed three or four bank-notes with his little rake in the direction of a more venturesome winner. The new comers, who were winning, thought they had never taken part in a sport more gentlemanly and amusing. " I must have one shy," said Martin, one of the boys who had hitherto stood with Barton, behind the banker, looking on. He was a gaudy youth with a diamond stud, rich, and not fond of losing. He staked five pounds and won; he left the whole sura on and lost, lost again, a third time, and then said, " May I draw a check?" " Of course you may," Cranley answered. " The waiter will give you tout ce qiCil faut pour ecrire, as the stage directions say; but I don t advise you to plunge. You ve lost quite enough. Yet they say tlie devil favors beginners, so you can t come to grief." The young fellow by this time was too excited to take advice. v His cheeks had an angry flush, his hands trembled as he hastily i constructed some paper currency of considerable value. The | parallel horizontal wrinkles of the gambler were just sketched on his smooth girlish brow as he returned with his paper. The bank had been losing, but not largely. The luck turned again as pon as Martin threw down eom of his scrip. Thrice consecu tively he lost. " Excuse me," said Barton suddenly to Cranley, " may I help myself to one of your cigarettes ?" He stooped as he spoke, over the table, and Cranley saw him pick up the silver cigarette case. It was a handsoma piece of polished diver. g THE MARK OF CAIW. * Certainly; help yourself. Give me back ray cigarette ease,, please, when you have done with it." He dealt again, and lost. "What a nice case!" said Barton, examining it closely. There is an Arabic word engraved on it." "Yes, yes," said Cranley, rather impatiently, holding out hia hand for the thing, and pausing before he dealt. "The case was given me by the late khedive, dear old Ismail, bless him! The word is a talisman." "I thought so. The case seemed to bring you luck," said Barton. Cranley half turned and threv/ a quick look at him, as rapid and timid as the glance of a hare in its form. " Come, give me it back, please," he said. " Now, just oblige me: let me try what there is in luck. Gc on playing while I rub up my Arabic, and try to read this in effable name on the case. Is it the word of Power of Solomon * Cranley glanced back again. " All right," he said, " as yoii are so curious fen donne!" > He offered cards, and lost. Martin s face brightened up. Ilia paper currency was coming back to him. " It s a shame," grumbled Cranley, " to rob a fellow of his fetich. Waiter, a small brandy-and-soda! Confound you / awkwardness! Why do you spill it over the cards?" By Cranley s own awkwardness, more than the waiter s, a little splash of the liquid had fallen in front of him, on the blaeir, leather part of the table where he doait. He went on dealing, and his luck altered again. The rake was stretched oat ovesf both halves of the long table; the gold and notes and counters, with a fluttering assortment of Martin s I O U s, were all dragged in. Martin went to the den of the money-changer sul lenly, and came back with fresh supplies. " Banco ?" he cried, meaning that he challenged Cranley for all the money in the bank. There must hure been some seven hundred pounds. " All right," said Cranley, taking a sip ot his soda water. He had dealt two cards, when his hands were suddenly grasped as in two vices, and cramped to the table. Barton had bent over from behind and caught him by the wrists. Cranley made one weak automatic movement to extricate himself; then he sat perfectly still. His face, which he turned over his shoulder, was white beneath the stains of tan, and his lips were blue. " Damn you!* he snarled. " What trick are J T OU after now ? * " Are you drunk, Barton?" cried some one. " Leave him alone!" shouted some of the players, rising from their seats; while others, pressing round Barton, looked over his shoulder without seeing any excuse for his behavior. Gentlemen." said Barton, in a steady voice, "I leave my conduct in the hands of the club. If I do not convince them that Mr. Cranley has been cheating, I am quite at their disposal, and at his. Let any one who doubts what I say look here." * Well, I m looking here, and I don t see what you are making THE MARK OF CAIN. 9 ench a fuss about," said Martin, from the group behind, peering ever at the table and the cards. " Will you kindly No. it is no use." The last remark was addressed to the captive, who had tried to release his hands. Will you kindly take up some of the cards and deal them elowly, to right and left, over that little puddle of spilt soda water on the leather ? Get as near the table as you can." There was a dead silence while Martin made this experiment. * By gad, I can see every pip on the cards!" cried Martin. " Of course you can; and if you had the art of correcting fort- one, you could make use of what you see. At the least you would know whether to take a card or stand." " / didn t," said the wretched Cranley. " How on earth was I to know that the infernal fool of a waiter would spill the liquor there, and give you a chance against me? " You spilt the liquor yourself," Barton answered coolly, " when I took away your cigarette-case. I saw you passing the cards over the surface of it, which any one can see for himself is a perfect mirror. I tried to warn you for I did not want a row when I caid the case seemed to b ir..g you luck. But you would not be warned; and when the cigarette-case trick was played out, you fell back on the old dodge with the drop of water. Will any one else convince himself that I am right be fore I let Mr. Cranley go ?" One or two men passed the cards, as they had seen the Banker do, over the spilt soda water. " It s a clear case," they said. " Leave him alone." Barton slackened his grip of Cranley s hands, and for some seconds they lay as if paralyzed on the table before him, white and cold, with livid circles round the wrists. The man s face was deadly pale, and wet with perspiration. He put out a trem bling hand to the glass of brandy -arid-water that stood beside him ; the glass rattled against his teeth as he drained all the con tents at a gulp. " You shall hear from me," he .grumbled, and, with an inartic ulate muttering of threats he made his way, stumbling and catch ing at chairs, to the door. When he had got outside, he leaned against the wall, like a drunken man, and then shambled across the landing into a read ing-room. It was empty, and Cranley fell into a large easy -chair, where he lay crumpled up, rather than sat, for perhaps ten mhv utes, holding his hand against his heart. " They talk about having the courage of one s opinions. Con found it! Why haven t I the nerve for my character? Hang this heart of mine! Will it never stop thumping ?" He sat up and looked about him, then rose and walked to ward the table; but his head began to swim, and his eyes to darken; so he fell back again in his seat, feeling drowsy and beaten. Mechanically he began to move the hand that hung over the arm of his low chair, and it encountered a newspaper which had fallen on the floor. He lifted it automatically and without thought; it was the Times. Perhaps to try his eyes, and 10 THE MARK OF CAIN; see if they served him again after his collapse, he ran them do wr? the columns of advertisements. Suddenly something caught his attention; his whole la figure grew braced again as he read a passage steadily through more than twice or thrice. When he had quite mastered thi% he threw down the paper anjd gave a low whistle. "So the old boy s dead," he reflected; "and that drunken tattooed ass and his daughter are to come in for the money and the mines! They ll be clever that find him, and I sha n t give them his address! What luck some men have!" Here he fell into deep thought, his brows and lips working eagerly. " I ll do it," he said at iaefc, cutting the advertisement out of the paper with a penknife. " It isn t often a man has a chancs to star in this game of existence. I ve lost all my own social Lives: one in that business at Oxford, one in the row at Ali c Musjid, and the third went to-night. But I ll star. Every sinner should desire a new Life," he added with a sneer.* He rose, steady enough now, walked to the door, paused and listened, heard the excited voices in the card-room still discuss ing him, slunk down-stairs, took his hat and great-coat, and swaggered past the porter. Mechanically he felt in his pocket, as he went out of the porch, for hie cigarette-case; and he paused at the little fount of fire at the door. He was thinking that he would never light a cigarette there again. Presently he remembered and swore. He had left his case on the table of the card-room, where Barton had laid it down, and he had not the impudence to send back for it. " Vile damnumr he muttered (for he had en joyed a classical education), and so disappeared in the frosty night. CHAPTER II. IN T HE SNOW. THE foul and foggy night of early February was descending. Borne weeks after the scene in the Cockpit, on the river and th$ town. Night was falling from the heavens; or rather, night seemed to be rising from the earth steamed up, black, from ths dingy trampled snow of the streets, and from the vapors thai swam above the squalid houses. There was coal- smoke and 3 F taste of lucifer matches in the air. In the previous night there \ had been such a storm as London seldom sees; the powdery, fly | - ing snow had been blown for many hours before a tyrannous > northeast gale, and had settled down, like dust in a neglected \. chamber, over every surface of the city. Drifts and "snow- wreaths," as northern folk say, were lying in exposed places, in squares and streets, as deep as they lie when sheep are " smoored" on the sides of Sundhope or Penchrist in the deso late border-land. All day London had been struggling under her cold winding-sheet, like a feeble, feverish patient trying to throw off a heavy white counterpane. Now the counterpane was dirty enough. The pavements were three inches deep in a * " Starring " is playing for a new " Life " at PooL I THE MARK OF CAIN. 11 , greasy deposit of mud and molten ice. Above the round glass or iron coverings of coal-cellars the foot-passengers slipped, "ricked" their backs, and swore as they stumbled, if they did not actually fall down, in the filth. Those who were in haste, and could afford it, traveled, at fancy prices, in hansoms with two horses driven tandem. The snow still lay comparatively white on the surface of the less-frequented thoroughfares, with straight shining black marks where wheels had cut their way. At intervals in the day the fog had fallen blacker than night. Down by the waterside the roads were deep in a mixture of a weak gray-brown or coffee color. Beside one of the bridges in Chelsea, an open slope leads straight to the stream, and here, in the afternoon for a late start was made the carts of the vestry had been led, and loads of slush that had choked up the streets in the more fashionable parts of the town had been unladen into the river. This may not" be the most scientific of sanitary modes of clearing the streets and squares, but it was the way that recommended itself to the wisdom of the contractor. In the early evening the fog had lightened a little, but it fell sadlj again, and grew so thick that the bridge was lost in mist half way across the river, like the arches of that fatal bridge beheld by Mirza in his vision. The masts of the vessels moored on the near bank disappeared from view, and only a red lamp or two shone against tne blackness of the hulks. From the public- house at the corner the Hit or Miss streamed a fan- shaped flood of light, soon choked by the fog. Out of the muddy twilight of a street that runs at right angles to the river, a cart came crawling; its high-piled white loid of snow was faintly visible before the brown horses (they were yoked tandem) came into view. This cart was driven down to the water-edge, and was there upturned, with much shouting and cracking of whips on the part of the men engaged, and with a good deal of straining, slipping, and stumbling on the side of the horses. One of the men jumped down, and fumbled at ths iron pm/i -which kept the backboard of the cart in its place. "Blarm me, Bill," he grumbled "if the blessed pins ain t froze/ Here he put his wet fingers in his mouth, blowing on them afterward, and smacking his arms across his breast to restore the circulation. The comrade addressed as Bill merely stared speechlessly as he stood at the smoking head of the leader, and the other man tugged again at the pin. "It won t budge," he cried at last. " Just run into the Hit or Miss at the corner, mate, and borrow a hammer; and you might get a pint o hot beer when ye re at it. Here s f ourpence. I ww with three that found a quid in the Mac,* end of last week; here s the last of it." He fumbled in his pocket, but his hands were so numb that h * " A quid in the Mac "a sovereign in the street-scrapings, called Mat from Macadam, and employed as mortar in building eligible fro*- bold tenement* 1$ THE MARK OF CAIN. could scarcely capture the nimble fourpence. Why should the * nimble fourpence" have the monopoly of agility? "I m blue ribbon, Tommy, don t yer know," said Bill, with re gretful sullenness. His ragged great-coat, indeed, was decor ated with the azure badge of avowed and total abstinence. "Blow yer blue ribbon! Hold on where ye are, and I ll bring the bloomin hammer myself." Thus growling, Tommy strode indifferent through the snow, his legs protected by bandages of straw ropes. Presently he re appeared in the warmer yellow of the light that poured through the windows of the old public-house. He was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, which he then thrust into the deeps of his pockets, hugging a hammer to his body under his armpit. 4 A little hot beer would do yer bloomin temper a deal more good than ten yards o blue ribbon at sixpence. Blue ruin s more in my line," observed Thomas epigramatically, much com forted by his refreshment. And with two well-directed taps he knocked the pins out of their sockets, and let down the back board of the cart. Bill, uncomforted by ale, sulkily jerked the horses forward; the cart was tilted up , and ine snow tumbled out, partly into the shallow shore-water, partly on to the edge of the slope. " Ullo!" cried Tommy suddenly. " Ere s an old coat-sleeve a sticking out o the snow." " Alves!" exclaimed Bill, with a noble eye on the main chance. " Alves! of course, alves. Ain t we on the same lay," re plied the chivalrous Tommy. Then he cried, " Lord preserve us, mate; there s a cove in the coat /" He ran forward, and clutched the elbow of the sleeve which stood up stiffly above the frozen mound of lumpy snow. He might well have thought at first that the sleeve was empty, such a very stick of bone and skin was the arm he grasped within it. "Here, Bill, help us to dig him out, poor chap!" " Is he dead ?" asked Bill, leaving the horses heads. " Dead! he s bound to be dead under all that weight. But how the dickens did he get into the cart? Guess we didn t shovel him in, eh ? we d ha^e seen him." By this time the two men had dragged a meager corpse out of the snow-heap. A rough, worn old pilot- coat, a shabby pair of corduroy trousers, and two broken boots, through which the toes could be seen peeping ruefully, were all the visible raiment of the body. The clothes lay in heavy swathes and folds over the miserable bag of bones that had once been a tall man. The peaked blue face was half hidden by a fell of iron-gray hair, and a grizzled beard hung over the breast. The two men stood for some moments staring at the corpse. A wretched woman in a thin gray cotton dress had come down from the bridge, and shivered beside the body for a moment. " He s a goner," was her criticism. " I wish J was." "With this asperation she shivered back into the fog again, walking on her unknown way. By this time a dozen people had started up from nowhere, and were standing in a tight THE MARK OF CAIN. & ring round the body. The behavior of the people was typical of London gazers. No one made any remark, or offered any suggestion; they simply stared with all their eyes and souls, absorbed in the unbought excitement of the spectacle. They were helpless, idealess, interested and unconcerned. " Run and fetch a peeler. Bill," said Tommy, at last. "Feeler be hanged! Bloomin likely I am to find a peeler. Fetch him yourself." " Sulky devil you are," answered Tommy, who was certainly of iniider mood, whereas Bill seemed a most nnalluring exam ple of the virtue of Temperance. It is true that he had only been " Blue Ribbon " since the end of. his Christmas bout that is, for nearly a fortnight and Virtue, a precarious tenant, was net yet comfortable in her new lodgings. Before Tommy returned from his quest the dusk had deepened into night. The crowd round the body in the pea-coat had grown denser, and it might truly be eaid that "the more pare knew not wherefore they had come together." The center of interest v/as not a fight, they were sure, otherwise the ring would have been swaying this way and that. Neither \vas it a dispute between a cabman and his fare; there was no sound of angry repartees. It might be a drunken woman, or a man in a fit, or a lost child. So the outer circle of spectators, who saw nothing, waited, and patiently endured till the moment of reve lation should arrive. Respectable people who passed only glanced at the gathering; respectable people may wonder, but they never do find out the mystery within a London crowd. On the extreme fringe of the mob were some amateurs who had just been drinking in the Hit or Miss. They were noisy, curious, and impatient. At last Tommy arrived with two policemen, who, acting on his warning, had brought with them a stretcher. He had told them briefly how the dead man was found in the cart-load of snow. Before the men in blue, the crowd of necessity opened. One of the officers stooped down and flashed M* lantern on the heap of snow where the dead face lay, as pale as its frozen pillow. " Lord, it s old Dicky Shields!" cried a voice in the crowd, as the peaked still features were lighted up. The man who spoke was one of the latest spectators that had arrived, after the news that some pleasant entertainment was on foot had passed into the warm alcoholic air and within the swinging doors of the Hit or Miss. "You know him, do you?" asked the policeman with tha lantern. "Know him, rather! Didn t I give him sixpence for rum when he tattoed this here cross and anchor on my arm ? Dicky was a grand hand at tattoing, bless you; he d tattoed himself all over!" The speaker rolled up his sleeve, and showed, on his burly red forearm, the emblems of Faith and Hope rather neatly executed in blue, 14 THE MARK OF CAIN. " Why, he was in the Hit or Miss," the speaker went on, "na later nor last night." " Wot beats me," said Tommy again, as the policeman lifted the light corpse, and tried vainly to straighten the frozen limb*. 4< Wot beats me is how he got in this here cart of ours." "He s light enough surely," added Tommy; "but I warrant we didn t chuck him on the cart with the snow in Belgravo Square." " Where do you put up at night ?" asked one of the policemen suddenly. He had been ruminating on the mystery. " In the yard there, behind that there boarding," answered Tommy, pointing to a breached and battered palisade near the corner of the public house. At the back of this rickety plank fence, with its parti-colored tatters of damp and torn advertisements, lay a considerable space of waste ground. The old houses that recently occupied the site had been pulled down, probably as condemned "slums," in some moment of reform, when people had nothing better to think of than the housing of the poor. There had been an idea of building model lodgings for tramps, with all the latest improvements, on the space, but the idea evaporated when something else occurred to divert the general interest. Now certain sheds, with roofs sloped against the near* est walls, formed a kind of lumber-room for the parish. At this time the scavengers carts were housed in the sheds, or outside the sheds when these were overcrowded. Not far off were stables for the horses, and thus the waste ground was not left wholly unoccupied. " Was this cart o yours under the sheds all night or in the open ? asked the policeman, with an air of penetration. " Just outside the shed, worn t it, Bill ?" replied Tommy. Bill said nothing, being a person disinclined to commit him self. " If the cart was outside," said the policeman, " then the thing s plain enough. You started from there, didn t you, with the cart in the afternoon ?" "Ay," answered Tommy. * And there was a little sprinkle o snow in the cart ?" "May be there wos. I don t remember one way or the ether." 4 Then you must be a stupid if you don t see that this here cove," pointing to the dead man, "got drinking too much last night, lost hisself , and wandered inside the hoarding, where he , fell asleep in the cart." " Snow do make a fellow bloomin sleepy," one of the crowd assented. " Well, he never wakened no-mpre, and the snow had covered oyer his body when you started with the cart, and him in it, un- fceknown. He s light enough to make no difference to the weight. Was it dark when you started ?" " One of them spells of fog was on; you could hardly see your liand," grunted Tommy. ** Well then, it s aa plain as as the nose on your face. 1 * Mii THE MARK OF CAIN. HI the poKoeman, without any sarcastic intentions. "That s how it was." "Bravo, Bobby I" cried one of the crowd. "They should make you an inspector, and set you to run in them dynamiting Irish coves." The policeman was not displeased at this popular tribute to . his shrewdness, Dignity forbade him, however, to acknowledge \ the compliment, and he contented himself with lifting the two j handles of the stretcher which was next him. A covering was I thrown over the face of the dead man, and the two policemen, with their burden, began to make their way northward to the hospital. A small mob followed them, but soon dwindled into a tail of I street boys and girls. These accompanied the body till it dis appeared from their eyes within the hospital doors. Then they waited for half an hour or so, and at last seemed to evaporate into the fog. By this time Tommy and his mate had unharnessed their horses and taken them to stable, the cart was housed (beneath the sheds this time), and Bill had so far succumbed to the genial influences of the occasion as to tear off his blue badge and follow Tommy into the Hit or Miss. A few chance acquaintances, hospitable and curious, accom panied them, intent on providing with refreshments and plying with questions the heroes of so remarkable an adventure. It is true that they already knew all Tommy and Bill had to tell; but there is a pleasure, in moments of emotional agitation, in re peating at intervals the same questions, and making over and again the same profound remarks. The charm of these per formances was sure to be particularly keen within the very walls where the dead man had probably taken his last convivial glass, and where some light was certain to be thrown, by the landlady or her customers, on the habits and history of poor Dicky Shields. CHAPTER III. AN ACADEMIC POTHOUSE. THE Hit or Miss Tavern, to customers (rough customers, at I least) who entered it on a foggy winter night, seemed merely a ; public by the river s brim. Not being ravaged and parched by | a thirst for the picturesque, Tommy and his mates failed to I pause and observe the architectural peculiarities of the building. Even if they had been of a romantic and antiquarian turn, the : fog was so thick that they could have seen little to admire, though there was plenty to be admired. The Hit or Miss was not more antique in its aspect than modern in its fortunes. Few public-houses, if any, boasted for their landlord such a person as Robert Maitland, M. A., Fellow of St. Gatien s- in the University of Oxford. It is, perhaps, desirable and even necessary to explain how this arrangement came into existence. We have already made acquaintance with " mine host" of the Hit or Miss, and found him to be by no means the rosy, genial Boniface of popular tra* !6 THE MARK OF CAIN. dition. That a man like Maitland should be the lessee of & waterside tavern, like the Hit or Miss, was only one of the anomalies of this odd age of ours. An age of revivals, restora tions, experiments an age of dukes who are Socialists an age which Sees the East-end brawling in Pall Mall, and parties of West-end tourists personally conducted down Ratclitfe Highway need not wonder at Maitland s eccentric choice in philan thropy. Maitland was an orphan, and rich. He had been an unpopular lonely boy at a public school, where he was known as a " sap, * or assiduous student, and was remarked for an almost unnatural indifference to cricket and rowing. At Oxford, as he had plenty of money, he had been rather less unpopular. His studies ul timately won him a Fellowship at St. Gatien s, where his serv ices as a tutor were not needed. Maitland now developed a great desire to improve his own culture by acquaintance with humanity, and to improve humanity by acquaintance with himself. This view of life and duty had been urged on him by his college " coach," philosopher, and friend. Mr. Joseph Biel- by. A. man of some energy of character, Bielby had made Maitland leave his desultory reading and dull hospitalities at St. Gatien s and betake himself to practical philanthropy. "You tell me you don t see much in life," Bielby had said. il Throw yourself into the life of others, who have not much to live on." Maitland made a few practical experiments in philanthropy at Oxford. He once subsidized a number of glaziers out on strike, and thereon had liis own windows broken by conservative un dergraduates. He urged on the citizens the desirability of run ning a steam tramway for the people from the station to Cow- ley, through Worcester, John s, Baliol, and Wadham Gardens, and Magdalene. His signature headed a petition in favor of having three "devils," or steam-whoopers, yelling in different quarters of the town between five and six o clock every morn ing, that the artisans might be awakened in time for the labors of the day. As Maitland s schemes made more noise than progress at Ox ford, Bielby urged him to come out of his Alma Mater and prac-j tice benevolence in town. He had a great scheme for building;, over Hyde Park, and creating a Palace of Art in Poplar with, the rents of the new streets. While pushing this ingenious idea in the columns of the Daily Trumpet, Maitland looked out for; some humbler field of personal usefulness. The happy notion of taking a philanthropic public-house occurred to him, and was; acted upon at the first opportunity. Maitland calculated that in his own barroom he could acquire an intimate knowledge of humanity in its least sophisticated aspects. He would sell good beer, instead of drugged and adulterated stuff. He would rais* the tone of his customers, while he would insensibly gain some of their exuberant vitality. He would shake off the prig (which he knew to be a strong element in his nature), and would, at th* same time, encourage temperance by providing good liquor. THE HARK GF CAIN. 1? The scheme seemed feasible, and the next thing to do was to acquire a tavern. Now, Maitland had been in the Oxford move ment just when aBstheticism was fading out, like a lovely sun- ctricken lily, while philanthropy and political economy and Mr, Henry George were coining in, like roaring lions. Thus inMait- land there survived a little of the old leaven of the student of Renaissance, a touch of the amateur of " impressions" and of antiquated furniture. He was always struggling against this * side," as he called it, of his " culture," and in his hours ot reaction he was all for steam tramways, " devils," and kin dergartens standing where they ought not. But there were moments when his old innocent craving for the picturesque got the upper hand; and in one of those moments Maitland nad come across the chance of acquiring the lease of the Hit or Miss. That ancient bridge-house pleased him, and he closed with hia opportunity. The Hit or Miss was as attractive to an artistic as most public-houses are to a thirsty soul. When the Embank ment was made, the bridge-house had been one of a street of similar quaint and many-gabled old buildings that leaned up against each other for mutual support near the river s edge. But the Embankment slowly brought civilization that way: the dirty rickety old houses were both condemned and demolished, till at last only the tavern remained, with hoardings and empty spaces, and a dustyard round it. The house etcod at what had been a corner. The red-tiled roof was?- so high-pitched as to be almost perpendicular. The dormer windows of the attics were as picturesque as anything in Nuremberg. The side- walls were broken in their surface by little odd red- tiled roofs covering projecting casements, and the . house was shored up and supported by huge wooden beams. You entered (supposing you to enter a public-house) by a low browed door in front, if you passed in as ordinary customers did. At one corner was an odd little board, with the old fashioned sign: "JACK S BRIDGE HOUSE. "HiT OR Miss LUCK S ALL." But there was a side-door, reached by walking down a cov ered way, over which the strong oaken rafters (revealed by the lanflaking of the plaster) lay bent and warped by years and the weight Of the building. From this door you saw the side, or, rather, the back, which the house kept for its intimates; a side even more picturesque with red-tiled roofs and dormer windows than that which faced the street. The passage led down to a elum, and on the left hand, as you entered, lay the empty space and the dustyard where the carts were sheltered in sheds, or left beneath the sky, behind the ruinous hoarding. "Within, the Hit or Miss looked cozy enough to persons enter ing out of the cold and dark. There was heat, light, and a bar- parlor with a wide, old-fashioned chimney-place, provided with seats within the ingle. On these little benches did Tommy and his friends make baste to nlace themselves, comfortably disposed, 18 THE MARK OF CAIN. and thawing rapidly, in a room within a room, as it were; fb* the big chimney-place was like a little chamber by itself. No* on an ordinary night could such a party have gained admittance to the bar-parlor, where Maitland himself was wont to appear, now and then, when he visited the tavern, and to produce by his mere presence, and without in the least intending it, an Early Closing Movement. But to-night was no common night, and Mrs. Gullick, tha -widowed landlady, or rather manager, was as eager to hear all the story of the finding of poor Dicky Shields as any of the crowd outside had been. Again and again the narrative was re peated, till conjecture once more began to take the place of as aertion. " I wonder," asked one of the men, " how old Dicky got the money for a boose ?" " The money, ay, and the chance, said another. " That daughter of his a nice-looking girl she is kept poor Dicky pretty tight." " Didn t let him get " the epigrammatist of the company was just beginning to put in, when the brilliant witticism he was about to utter burst at once on the intellect of all his friends. " Didn -t let him get tight, you was a-goin to say, Tommy," howled three or four at once, and there ensued a great noise of the slapping of thighs, followed by chuckles which exploded at intervals like crackers. " Dicky ad been avin bad times for long," the first speaker went on. " I guess he ad about tattooed all the parish as would stand a pint for tattooing. There was hardly a square inch of skin not made beautiful forever about here." " Ah! and there was no sale for his beastesses and birdses, nuther; or else he was clean sold out, and hadn t no capital to renew his stock of hairy cats and young parrots." " The very stuffed beasts, perched above old Dicky s shop, had got to look real mangy and moldy. I think I see them now; the fox in the middle, the long-legged moulting foreign bird at one end, and that ere shiny old rhinoceros in the porch under them picters of the dying deer and t other deer swimming. Poor old Dicky! Where he raised the price o a drain, let alone a boose, beats me, it does." " Why," said Mrs. Gnllick, who had been in the outer room during the conversation, "why, it was a sailor gentleman that stood Dicky treat. A most pleasant- spoken man for a sailor, with a big black beard. He used to meet Dicky here, in the private room up-stairs, and there Dicky used to do him a turn of hie trade tattooing him, like. I m doing him to pattern, mum,* Dicky sez, sez he; * a fac-simile o myself, mum. It wasn t much they drank, neither just a couple of pints; for eez the aailor gentleman, he sez, I m afeared, mum, our friend here can t carry much even of your capital stuff. We must excuse,* *ez he, * the failings of an artis ; but I doesn t want his hand to bake or slip when he s a-doin me, sez he. Might spile th pattern, he sez, also hurt. And I wouldn t have served okt THE MARK OF CAIN. 1ft ttcky with more than was good for him, myself, not if it wa* ever so, I wouldn t. I promised that poor daughter of his, be- : fore Mr. Maitland sent her to school years ago now I promised as I would keep an eye on her father, and speak of JL hangel, if here isn t Mr. Maitland his very self!" And Mrs. Gullick arose, with bustling courtesy, to welcome her landlord, the Fellow of St. Gatien s. Immediately there was a stir among the men seated in the ingle. One by one some with a muttered pretense at excuse, others with shamefaced awkwardness they shouldered and shuffled out of the room. Maitland s appearance had produced its usual effect, and he was left alone with his tenant. " Well, Mrs. Gullick," said poor Maitland, ruefully, " I cam* here for a chat with our friends a little social relaxation^-on economic questions, and I seem to have frightened them all away." "Oh, sir, they re a rough lot, and don t think themselves; company for the likes of you. " But," said Mrs. Gullick, eagerly with the delight of the oldest aunt in telling the saddest tale " you ve heard this hawfui story? Poor Miss Margaret, sir! It makes my blood " What physiological effect on the circulation Mrs. Gullick was about to ascribe to alarming intelligence will never be known; for Maitland, growing a little more pallid than usual, inter rupted her: " What has happened to Miss Margaret ? Tell me, quick!" " Nothing to herself, poor lamb, but her poor father, sir." Maitland seemed sensibly relieved. Well, what about her father ?" " Gone, sir gone! In a cartload o snow, tla-a very evening, he was found, just outside o this very door. " In a cartload of snow!" cried Maitland. "Do you mean that he went away in it, or that he was found in it dead ? " Yes, indeed, sir; dead for many hours, the doctor said; and in this very house he had been no later than laet night, and quite steady, sir, I do assure you. He had been steady oh, steady for weeks." Maitland assumed an expression of regret, which no doubt h felt to a certain extent. But in his sorrow there could not but have been some relief. For Maitland, in the course of his, phil anthropic labors, had known old Dicky Shields, the naturalist and professional tattooer, as a hopeless mauvais mjet. But Dicky s daughter, Margaret, had been a daisy nourishing by the grimy waterside, till the young social reformer transplanted her to a school in the purer air of Devonshire. He was having her educated there, and after she was educated why, then, Mait land had at one time entertained his own projects or dreams. In the way of their accomplishment Dicky Shields had been felt as an obstacle; not that he objected on the other hand, he had tnade Maitland put his views in writing. There \vere times there had lately, above all, been times when Maitland reflected uneasily on the conditional promises in this document. Dicky was not SA sligibla &fcar-ia-law, however good and pretty * SO THE MARK OF CAIN. girl hfe daughter might be. But now Dicky had ceased to be an obstacle; he was no longer (as he certainly had been) in any man s way; he was nobody s enemy now, not even his own. The vision of all these circumstances passed rapidly, like a sensation rather than a set of coherent thoughts, through Mait- land s consciousness. " Tell me everything you knew of this wretched business," he said, rising and closing the door which led into the outer room. "Well, sir, you have not been here for some weeks, or you would know that Dicky had found a friend lately an old ship mate, or petty-officer, he called him a sailorman. Well-to-do, he seemed; the mate of a merchant vessel he might be. He had known Dicky, I think, long ago at sea, and he d bring him here * to yarn with him, he said, once or twice it might be in this room, but mainly in the parlor up-stairs. He let old Dicky tat too him a bit, up there, to put him in the way of earning an honest penny by his trade a queer trade it was. Never more than a pint, or a glass of hot rum and water, would he give the old man. Most considerate and careful, sir, he ever was. Well, last night he brought him in about nine, and they sat rather late; and about twelve the sailor comes in, rubbing his eyes, and Good-night, mum, sez he. My friend s been gone for an hour. An early bird he is, and I ve been asleep by myself. If you please, I ll just settle our little score. It s the last for a long time, for I m bound to-morrow for the China Seas, eastward. Oh, mum, a sailor s life! So he pays, changing a half-sovereign, like a gentleman, and put he goes, and that s the last I ever see o poor Dicky Shields till he was brought in this afternoon, out of the snow-cart, cold and stiff, sir." And how do you suppose all this happened ? How did Shields get into the cart ?" "Well, that s just what they ve been wondering at, though the cart was handy and uncommon convenient for a man as ad too much, if ad lie ad; as believe it I cannot, seeing a glass of hot rum and water would not intoxicate a babe. May be he felt fairt, and laid down a bit, and never wakened. But, Lord a mercy, whp.t s that f screamed Mrs. Gullick, leaping to her feet in terror. The latched door which communicated with the staircase had been burst open, and a small brown bear had rushed erect into the room, and, with a cry, had thrown itself on Mrs. Gullick a bosom. " Well, if ever I ad a fright!" that worthy lady exclaimed^ turning toward the startled Maitland, and embracing at the same time the little animal in an affectionate clasp. " Well, if ever there was such a child as you, Lizer! What is the matte* with you now f" "Oh, mother," cried the bear, "I rlreamedof that big bird I saw on the roof, and I ran down-stairs before I was arf awake, ] was that horful frightened." " Well, you just go up-stairs again -and here s a sweetcake for you and you take this night-light," said Mrs. Gullick, pro ducing the articles she mentioned, " and put it in the basin card* TBE MARK OF CAIN. U ful, and knock on the floor with the poker if you want me. If it wasn t for thafc bearskin Mr. Toopny was kind enough to let you keep, you d get your death o cold, you would, running about in the night. And look ere, Lizer," she added, patting the child affectionately on the shoulder, " do get that there bird 5 out o your head. It s just nothing but indigestion conies o you , and the other children himps they may well call you, and | himps I m sure you are always wasting your screws on pastry "1 and lemonade and raspberry vinegar. Just nothing but indiges- J tion." Thus admonished, the bear once more threw its arms, in a tight embrace, about Mrs. Gullick s neck; and then, without la v- ^ ishing attention on Maitland, passed out of the door, and could be heard skipping up-stairs. " I m sure, sir, I ask your pardon," exclaimed poor Mrs. Gul- lick; "but Lizer s far from well just now, and she did have a ecare last night, or else, which is more likely, her little inside (saving your presence) has been upset with a supper the man ager gave all them pantermime himps." " But, Mrs. Gullick, why is she dressed like a bear?" "She s such a favorite with the manager, sir, and the property man, and all of them at the Hilarity, you can t think, sir," said Mrs. Gullick, not in the least meaning to impugn Mainland s general capacity for abstract speculation. " A regular little genius that child is, though I says it as shouldn t. Ah. sir, she takes it from her poor father, "sir." And Mrs, Gullick raised her apron to her eyes. Now the late Mr. Gullick had been a clovrn of considerable merit; but, like too many artists, he was addicted beyond meas ure to convivial enjoyment. Maitland had befriended him in his last days, and had appointed Mrs. Gullick (and a capital ap pointment it was) to look after his property when he became landlord of the Hit or Miss. " What a gift, sir, that child always had! Why, when she was no more than four, I well remember her going to fetch the beer, and her being a little late, and Gullick with the thirst on , him, when she came in with the jug, he made a cuff at her, not 7. to hurt her, and if the little thing didn t drop the jug, and take \, the knap! Lord, I thought Gullick would a died laughing, and ;: him so thirsty, too." "Take the knap?" said Maitland, who imagined that "the knap " must be some malady incident to childhood. " Oh, sir, it s when one person cuffs at another on the stage, you know, and the other slaps his own hand, on the far side, to make the noise of a box on the ear; that s what we call * taking the knap in the profession. And the beer was spilt, and the jug broken, and all Lizer was that clever ? And this is her eecond season, just ended, as a himp at the Hilarity pantermime; and they re that good to her, they let her bring her bearskin home with her, what she wears, you know, sir, as the Little Bear in The Three Bears, don t you know, sir." Maitland was acquainted with the legend of the Great Bear, the Middle Baar, a4 the Little Tiny Small Bear, and had eve* 28 THE MARK OF CAIN. proved, in a learned paper, that the Three Bears were the Su*. the Moon, and the Multitude of Stars in the Aryan myth. But he had not seen the pantomime founded on the traditional nar rative. "But what was the child saying about a big bird?" he asked. "What was it thai frightened her?" " Oh, sir, I think it was just tiredness, and may be, a little some* thing, hot at that supper last night; and, besides, seeing GO many queer things in pan termhnes might put notions in a child s head. But when she came home last night, a little late, Lizer was very itrange. She vowed and swore she had seen a large bird, far bigger than any common bird, skim over the street. Then when I had put her to bed in the attic, down she flies, screaming she law the bird on the roof. I had hard work to get her to sleep. to-day I made her lay a-bed and wear her theater panteuaime bearskin, that fits her like another skin and she ll be too big for it next year just to keep her warm in that cold garret. That s all about it, sir. She ll be well enough in a day or two, idll Lizer." "I am sure I hope she will, Mrs. Gullick," said Maitland; " and, as I am passing his way, I will ask Dr. Barton to call and see the little girl. Now I must go, and I think the less we say fco any one about Miss Shields, you know, the better. It will be very dreadful for her to learn about her father s death, and we snust try to prevent her from hearing Iiow it happened." "Certainly, sir," said Mrs. Gullick, bobbing; "and being safe away at school, sir, we ll hope she won t be told no more that* she needn t know about it." Maitland went forth into the thick night; a half-hearted Ix>ndon thaw was filling the shivering air with a damp brown fog. He walked to the nearest telegraph office, and did not observe, in the raw darkness and in the confusion of his thoughts, that he was followed at no great distance by a man muffled up in a great-coat and a woolen comforter. The stranger almost shouldered against; him, as he stood reading his telegram, and conscientiously docking off a word here and there to save three pence: "FROM ROBERT MAITLAND TO Miss MABLETT. "The Dovecot. Conisbeare, " ftverton. "I come to-morrow, leaving by 10.30 train. Do not let Mar- garet see newspaper. Her father dead. Break news." This telegram gave Maitland, in his excited state, more trouble to construct than might have been expected. We all know the wondrous badness of post-office pens or pencils, and how they tear or blot the paper when we are in a hurry; and Maitland *elt hurried, though there was no need for haste. Meantime the man in the woolen comforter was buying stamps, and, finishing his bargain before the dispatch was stamped an<l delivered, went out into the fog, and was no more seen. THE M#4K OF CAHK CEA ?TER IV. MIS& MABLETT S. OlRLSf schools are chilly places. The unfortunate victims* when you chance to meet whem mostly look but half -alive, and dismally cold. Their no&2& (however charming these features may become in a year or hvo, or even may be in the holidays) appear somehow of a frosty temperature in the long dull months of school-time. The ha^ds, too, of the fair pupils are apt to seem larger than comn r on, inclined to blue in color, and, gen- erally are suggestive of s aadequate circulation. A tendency t# I get as near the fire as possible (to come within the frontiers of the hearth-rug is forbidden), and to cower beneath shawls, is also characteristic of joyous girlhood school-girlhood, that is. In fact, one thinks of a g yls school as too frequently a spot where no one takes any lively exercise (for walking in a funeral pro cession is not exercis-a, or mutes might be athletes), and where there is apt to be a pervading impression of insufficient food, in sufficient clothing, ami genera! unsatisfied tedium. Miss Mariettas Establishment for the Highest Education of Girls, more briefly known as " The Dovecot, Conisbeare," wa no exception, on a particularly cold February day the day after Dicky Shields was found deadto these pretty general rules. "The Dovecot, befoio it became a girl s school, was, no doubt, a pleasant English borne, where "the fires wass coot," as the Highlaudnian said. The red-brick house, with its lawn sloping down to the field j. all level with snow, stood at a little distance from the main ro.j,d, at the end of a handsome avenue of Scotch pines. But the fires at Miss Mariettas were not good on this Feb- ruary morning. They never ivere good at the Dovecot. Miss Harlett was om, of those people who, fortunately for themselves, and unfortunately for persons dwelling under their roofs, never feel cold, or never know what they feel. Therefore, Miss Mar- lett never poked the fire, which, consequently used to grow black toward its early death, and was only revived, at dangerously long 4 intervals, by thn most minute doses of stimulant in the shape or *J rather damp small coals. Now supplies of coal had run low at $ the Dovecot, for the very excellent reason that the roads were snowed up, and that convoys of the precious fuel were scarcely to be urged along the heavy ways. This did not matter much to the equable temperament of Mis* Marlett; but it did matter a great deal to her shivering pupils, three of whom were just speeding their morning toilet, oy the light of one candle, at the pleasant hour of five minutes to seven on a frosty morning. "Oh, dearl" said one maiden Janey Harinan by name whose blond complexion should have been pink and white, but was mottled with alien and unbecoming hues, " why don t thai old Cat let us have fires to dress by ? Gracious, Margaret, how I4ack your fingers are!" " Ttar and Leant tret them clean." said Macgaret, holding two very pretty dripping hands, and quoting, In mock heroif parody s * Ho, dogs of false Tarentum, Are not my hands washed white?" 19 No talking In the bedrooms, young ladies," came a voic, accompanied by an icy draught, from the door, which was opened just enough to admit a fleeting vision of Miss Marlett s personal charms. " I was only repeating my lay, Miss Marlett,** replied th maiden thus rebuked, in a tone of injured innocence - * * Ho, dogs of false Tarentum, " and the door closed again on Miss Marlett, who had not alto gether the best of it in this affair of outposts and could not help feeling as if " that Miss Shields " was laughing at her. * Old Cat!" the young lady went on, in a subdued whisper. " But no wonder my hands were a little black, Janey. You for get that it s niy week to be stoker Already, girls, by an early and unexpected movement, I have cut off some of the enemy s supplies. " So speaking, Miss Margaret Shields proudly displayed a small deposit of coals, stored for secrecy, in the bottom of a clothes- basket. " Gracious, Daisy, how clever! Well, you are something We* a stoker," exclaimed the third girl, who by this time had finished dressing; " we shall have a blaze to-night." Now, it must be said that at Miss Marlett s school, by an un usual and inconsistent concession to comfort and sanitary prin ciples, the elder girls were allowed to have fires in their bed rooms at night, in winter. But seeing that these fires resembled the laughter of the wicked, inasmuch as they were brief -lived aa the crackling of thorns under pots, the girls were driven to make predatory attacks on fuel wherever it could be found. Some times, one is sorry to say, they robbed each other s fireplaces, and concealed the coal in their pockets. But this conduct re sembling what is fabled of the natives of the Scilly Islands, that they " eke out a precarious livelihood by taking in each other s washing" led to strife and bickering; so that the stoker for the week (as the girl appointed to collect these supplies was called) had to infringe a little on the secret household stores of Miss Marlett. This week, as it happened, Margaret Shields was the stoker, and she so bore herself in her high office as to extort the admiration of the very housemaids^ 44 Even the ranks of Tusculuin Could scarce forbear a cheer. * 4f we may again quote the author who was at that time Misa Shields favorite poet. Miss Shields had not studied Mr. Matthew Arnold, and was mercifully unaware that not to detect the pinchbeck" in the Lays is the sign of a groveling nature. Before she was sent to Miss Marlett s, four years ere this date,. Margaret Shields instruction had been limited. "The best. thing ihat Could be said for it," as the old sporting prophet ro " THE MARK OF CAEV. 96 eleemosynary.* The Chelsea School Board fees could bttfc rarely be extracted from old Dicky Shields. But Robert Maitland, when still young in philanthropy, had seen the clever, merry, brown-eyed child at some school treat, or inspection, or other function; had covenanted in some sort with her shiftless parent^ had rescued the child from the streets, and sent her as a pupil to Miss Marlett s. Like Mr. Day, the accomplished author of " Sanclford and Merton," and creator of the immortal Mr. Bar low, Robert Maitland had conceived the hope that he might have a girl educated up to his own intellectual standard, and made, or * ready-made," a helpmate meet for him. He was., in a more or less formal way, the guardian of Margaret Shields, and the ward might be expected (by any one who did not know human nature any better) to blossom into the wife. Maitland could " please himself," as people say: that is, in his choice of a partner he had no relations to please no one but the elect young lady, who, after all, might not be " pleased " with alacrity. "Whether pleased or not, there could be no doubt that Margaret Shields was extremely pleasing. Beside her two shivering chamber-mates ( * chamber-dekyns " they would have been called, in Oxford slang, four hundred years ago), Miss Shields looked quite brilliant, warm, and comfortable, even in the eager and the nipping air of Miss Marlett s shuddering establishment, and by the frosty light of a single candle. This young lady waa tall and firmly fashioned; a nut-brown maid, with^a rudriy glow on her cheeks, with glossy hair rolled up in a big tight knot, and with a smile (which knew when it was well off) always faithful to her lips. These features, it is superfluous to say in speaking of a heroine, " were rather too large for regular beauty." She was perfectly ready to face the enemy (in which light she humorously regarded her mistress) when the loud cracked bell jangled at seven o clock exactly, and the drowsy girls cams trooping from the dormitories down into the wintery class-rooms. Arithmetical diversions, in a cold chamber, were the in tellectual treat which awaited Margaret and her companions. Arithmetic and slatee! Does any owe remember can any one forget how horribly distasteful a slate can be when the icy fingers of youth have to clasp that cold educational formation (Silurian, I believe), and to fumble with the greasy slate-pencil? vVith her Colenso in her lap, Margaret Shields grappled for some time with the mysteries of tare and tret. " Tare an ouns, 1 call it," whispered Janey Harman, who had taken, in the holidays, a " course " of Lever s Irish novels. Margaret did not make very satisfactory progress with her commercial calcula tions. After hopelessly befogging herself, she turned to that portion of Colenso s engaging work which is most palpitating with actuality: " If ten Surrey laborers, in mowing a field of forty acres, drink twenty-three quarts of beer, how much cider will thirteen Devonshire laborers consume in building a stone wall of thirteen roods four poles in length, and four feet six in height? 1 problem, ftso f proved too severs for Margaret s mat&e* m THB MARK OF nratieal endowments, and (it is extraordinary how cMdisli tita *ery greatest girls can be) she was playing at "oughts and crosses" with Janey Harman when the arithmetic master came round. He sat down, not unwillingly, beside Miss Shields, erased, without comment, the sportive diagrams, and set him self vigorously to elucidate (by the low cunning of algebra") the difficult sum from Colenso. You see, it is like this," he said, mumbling rapidly, and scribbling a series of figures and letters which the pupil wai expected to follow with intelligent interest. But the rapidity of the processes quite dazed Margaret: a result not unusual when the teacher understands his topic so well, and so much as a mat* ter of course that he cannot make allowance for the benighted darkness of the learner. * Ninety-five firkins fourteen gallons three quarts. You see> it s quite simple," said Mr. Cleghorn, the arithmetic master. " Oh, thank you; I see," said Margaret, with the kind readi ness of woman, who would profess to "see" the Secret of Hegel, or the inmost heart of the Binomial Theorem, or the nature of the duties of cover-point, or the latest hypothesis about the frieze of the Parthenon, rather than be troubled with prolonged explanations, which the expositor, after all, might find it inconvenient to give. Arithmetic and algebra were not this scholar s for te; and no young lady in Miss Marlett s establishment was so hungry, or so glad when eight o clock struck and the bell rang for breakfast, as Margaret Shields. Breakfast at Miss Mariettas was not a convivial meal. Thera was a long narrow table, with cioss-tables at each end, these high seats, or dais, being occupied by Miss Marlett and the gov ernesses. At intervals down the table were stacked huge piles of bread and butter of extremely thick bread and surprisingly thin butter each slice being divided into four portions. The rest of the banquet consisted solely of tea. Whether this regi- men was enough to support growing girls, wh had risen at seven, till dinner-time at half -past one, is a problem which, per haps, the inexperienced intellect of man can scarcely approach with confidence. But, if girls do not always learn as much at at school as could be desired, intellectually speaking, it is certain m that they have every chance of acquiring Spartan habits, and of | becoming accustomed (if familiarity really breeds contempt) to F despise hunger and cold. Not that Miss Marlett s establishment \ was a Dothegirls Hall, nor a school much more scantily equipped I with luxuries than others. But the human race lias still to learn that girls need good meals just as much as, or more than, per sons of maturer years. Boys are no better off at many places; but boys have opportunities of adding bloaters and chops to their breakfasts, which would be considered horribly indelicate and insubordinate conduct in girls. " Est ce que vous airnez les tartines a 1 Anglaise," said Janey Harman to Margaret. Ce que j aime dans la tartine, c est la simplicity pri&MHaaiUi* *re da sa nature," answered "Miy** Shields, THB MARK OF CAIN. 87 It WM one of the charms of the " matinal meal " (as the authoff of " Guy Livingstone " calls breakfast) that the young ladies were all compelled to talk French (and such French!) during this period of refreshment. "Toutes choses, la cuisine exceptee, sont Francaises, dana cet etablissement peu recreatif," went on Janey, speaking low and fast. " Je deteste le Francais," Margaret answered, " mais jele pre- fere infmiment a 1 Allemand." * Comment accentuez, vous le mot prefere, Marguerite ?" asked Hiss Marlett, who had heard the word, and who neglected na chance of conveying instruction. " Oh, two accents one this way, and the other that," an swered Margaret, caught unawares. She certainly did not reply in the most correct terminology. " Vous allez perdre dix marks," remarked the school-mistress, if incorrectly, perhaps not too severely. But perhaps it is not easy to say, off-hand, what word Miss Marlett ought to have em ployed for "marks." " Voici les lettres qui arrivent," whispered Janey to Margaret, AS the post-bag was brought in and deposited before Miss Mar lett, who opened it with a key and withdrew the contents. This was a trying moment for the young ladies. Miss Marlett first sorted out all the letters for the girls, which came, in dubitably and unmistakably, from fathers and mothers. Then she picked out the other letters, ^hose directed to young ladies whom she thought she could trust, and handed them over in honorable silence. These maidens were regarded with envy by the others. Among them was not Miss Harman, whose letters Miss Marlett always deliberately opened and read before deliver ing them. *. II y a une lettre pour rnoi, et elle va la lire," said poor Janey to her friend, who, for her part, never received any letters, save a few, at stated intervals, from Maitland. These Miss Shields used to carry about in her pocket without opening them till they were all crumplv at the edges. Then she hastily mastered their contents, and made answer in the briefest and most decorous manner. 41 Qui est votre correspondent ?" Margaret asked, We are not defending her French. " C est le pauvre Harry Wyville," answered Janey. ** II est sous-lieutenant dans les Berkshires a Aldershot. Pourquoi ne doit il pas ecrire a moi, il est comme on dircit, mon frere." " Est il votre parent?" " Non, pas du tout, mais je 1 ai connupour des ans. Oh, pour dee ans! Voici, elle a deux depeches telagraphiciues," Janey added, observing two orange colored envelopes which had com in the mail-bag with the letters. At this moment Miss Marlett finished the fraternal epistle of Lieutenant Wy ville, which she folded up with a frown and re turned to the envelope. " Jeanne je veux vous parler a part, aproe, dans mon boudoir,* remarked Mia* Marlett, severely; and Miss Harman, becoming ft m TH MARK OF CAIN. little blanched, displayed no further appetite for tartines, nor fot French conversation. Indeed, to see another, and a much older lady, read let ters written to one by a lieutenant at Aldershot, whom one has known for years, and who is just like one s brother, is a trial to any girl. Then Miss Marlett betook herself to her own correspondence, which, as Janey had noticed, included tivo telegraphic dispatches in orange-colored envelopes. That she had not rushed at these, and opened them first. proves the admirable rigidity of her discipline. Any other wom an would have done so, but it was Miss Marlett s rule to dispose of the pupils correspondence before attending to her own. " Busi ness first, pleasure afterward," was the motto of this admirable woman. Breakfast ended, as the girls were leading the room for the tasks of the day, Miss Marlett beckoned Margaret aside. " Come to me, dear, in the boudoir, after Janey Barman." eaid the schoolmistress in English, and in a tone to which Mar garet was so unaccustomed that she felt painfully uneasy and anxious unwonted moods for this careless maiden. * Janey, something must have happened," she whispered to her friend, who was hardening her own heart for the dreadful interview. " Something s going to happen, I m sure," said poor Janey, apprehensively, and then she entered the august presence, a/one. Margaret remained at the further end of the passage, leading h> what Miss Marlett, when she spoke French, called her ** boudoir." The girl felt colder than even the weather war ranted. She looked alternately at Miss Marlett s door and out of the window, across the dead blank flats to the low white hills far away. Just under the window one of the little girls was standing, throwing crumbs, remains Ox the tartines, to robins and sparrows, which chattered and fought over the spoil. One or two blackbirds, with their yeilov, bills, flutt red shyly on the outside of the ring of more familiar birds. Up from the south a miserable blue-gray haze was drifting and shuddering, ominous of a thaw. From the eaves and the branches of the trees heavy | drops kept falling, making round black holes in the snow, and | mixing and melting here and there in a yellowish plash. Margaret shivered. Then she heard the boudoir door opea, and Janey came out, making a plucky attempt not to cry. " What is it? whispered Margaret, rorgetting the dread inter view before her, and her own unformed misgivings. ** She won t give me the letter. I m to have it when I go home for good; and I m to go home for good at the holidays," whim pered Janey. Poor Janey!" said Margaret, petting the blonde Ja.ead on her shoulder. " Margaret Shields, come here I" cried Miss Marlett, ID a sb&ky voice, from the boudoir. " Come to the back music -room when she s don* with you,* THE MARK OF CAV*. 3f the other girl whispered. And Margaret marched, with a beat* ing heart, into Miss Marlett s chamber. "My dear Margaret," said Miss Marlett, holding out her? hands. She was standing up in the middle of the boudoir. She ought to have been sitting grimly, fortified behind her bureau; that was the position in which she generally received pupils on these gloomy occasions. " My dear Margaret!" she repeated. The girl trembled a little as the schoolmistress drew her closer, and made her sit down on a sofa. ( " What has happened ?" she asked. Her lips were so dry that J he could scarcely speak. "You must make up your mind to be very brave. Your father " "Was it an accident J ^said Margaret, suddenly. She knew pretty well what was coming. Often she had foreseen the end, which it needed no prophet to foretelL ** Was it anything very dreadful ?" " Mr. Maitland does not say. You are to be called for to-day. Poor Daisy 1" " Oh, Miss Marlett, I am so very unhappy! * the girl sobbed. Somehow she was kneeling now, with her head buried in the elder lady s lap. "I have been horrid to you. I am so wretched f"^ A little kindness and a sudden trouble had broken down Miss Margaret Shields. For years she had been living, like Dr. John son at college, with a sad and hungry heart, trying to * carry it off by her wild talk and her wit." " It was bitterness they mis took for frolic." She had known herself to be a kind of outcast, and she determined to hold her own with the other girls who had homes and went to them in the holidays. Margaret had not gone home for a year. She had learned much, working harder than they knew; she had been in the " best set " among the pupils, by dint of her cheery rebelliousness. Now she sud denly felt all her loneliness, and knew, too, that she had been living, socially, in that little society at the expense of this kind, queer, old Miss Marlett s feelings. 1 " I have been horrid to you," she repeated. " I wish I had j never been born." The schoolmistress said nothing at all, but kept stroking the : girl s beautiful head. Surreptitiously Miss Marlett wiped away & frosty tear. " Don t mind me," at last Miss Marlett said* " I never thought hardly of you; I understood. Now you must go and get ready for your journey; you can have any of the girls you like to help you to pack." Miss Marlett carried generosity so far that she did not even ask which of the girls was to be chosen for this service. Perhaps she guessed that it was the other culprit. Then Margaret rose and dried her eyes, and Miss Marlett took her in her arms and kissed her, and went off to order a traveling luncheon and to select the warmest railway rug she could find; for the teacher, though she was not a very learned nor judicious 90 Tffff MARK OF CAIN. } schoolmistress, had a heart and affections of her own. She had once, it is true, taken the word legibus (dative plural of lex, a law) for an adjective of the third declension, legibus, legiba^ tegiburn; and Margaret had criticised this grammatical subtlety with an unsparing philological acumen, as If she had been Pro fessor Moritz Haupt and Miss Marlett, Orelli. And this had led to the end of Latin lessons at the Dovecot, wherefore Margaret was honored as a goddess by girls averse to study the classic languages. But now Miss Marlett forgot these things, and al 1 the other skirmishes of the past. Margaret went wearily to her room, where she bathed face with cold water; it could not be too cold for her. A cei tain numb forgetfulness seemed to steep her mind while she thus deadening her eyes again and again. She felt as if she never wished to raise her eyes from this chilling consolation. Then, when she thought she had got rid of all the traces of her trouble, she went cautiously to the back music-room. Janey was there, moping alone, drumming on the window-pane with her fingers. " Come to my room, Janey," she said, beckoning. Now, to consort together in their bedrooms during school- hours was forbidden to the girls. Why, we ll only get into another scrape," said Janey, rue* fully. No, come away; I ve got leave for you. You re to help me to pack." "To pack!" cried Janey, "Why, you re not expelled, are you? You ve done nothing. You ve not even had a perfectly harmless letter from a boy who is just like a brother to you and whom you ve knowc for years. Margaret only beckoned again and turned away, Janey fol lowing in silence and intense curiosity. When they reached their room, where Margaret s portmanteau had already been placed, the girl began to put up such things as uhe would need for a short journey. She said nothing till she had finished, and then she sat down on a bed and told Janey what she had learned; and the pair " had a good cry," and com forted each other as well as they might. " And what are you going to do ?" asked Janey, when, a Homer says, " they had taken their fill of chilling lamentations. " "I don t know ! : " Have you no one else in all the world?" " No one at all. My mother died when I was a little child, in Smyrna. Since then we have wandered all about; we were* long time in Algiers, and we were at Marseilles, and then ia London." " But you have a guardian, haven t you ?" " Yes; he sent me here. And, of course, he s been very kind, and done everything for me; but he s quite a young man, not thirty., and he s so stupid, and so stiff, and thinks so much about Oxford, and talks so like a book. And he s so shy, and alwawi seems to do everything, not because he likes it, but because ft* thinks he ought to. And, beside* " THE MARK OF CAIN. ft But Margaret did not go further in her confessions, nor ?ain more lucidly why she had ecaat affection for Maitland of St. Gatien s. " And had your poor father no other friends who could take car,e of you ?" Janey asked. "There was a gentleman who called now and then; I saw him twice. He had been an officer in father s ship, I think, or had known him long ago at sea. He found us out somehow in Chelsea. There was no one else at all." " And you don t know any of your father s family? * "No," said Margaret, wearily. "Oh, I have forgotten to pack up my prayer-book." And she took up a little worn vol ume in black morocco with silver clasps. "This was a book my father gave me," she said. "It has a name on it my grandfather s, I suppose Richard Johnson, Linkheaton, 1837. " Then she put the book in a pocket of her traveling cloak. " Your mother s father it may have belonged to," said Janey. " I don t know," Margaret replied, looking out of the window. " I hope you won t stay away long, dear," said Janey, affec tionately. " But you are going, too, you know," Margaret answered, without much tact; and Janey, reminded of her private griefs, was about to break down, when the wheels of a carriage were heard laboring slowly up the snow- laden drive. " Why, here s some one coming!" cried Jaiiey, rushing to the window. " Two horses! and a gentleman all in fura. Oh, Mar garet, this must be for you!" CHAPTER V. FLOWN. MAITLAND S reflections as, in performance of the promise he had telegraphed, he made his way to the Dovecot, were deep and distracted. The newspapers with which he had littered the rail way carriage were left unread; he had occupation enough in his own thoughts. Men are so made that they seldom hear even of a deatli without immediately considering its effects on their private interests. Now, the death of Richard Shields affected Maitland s purposes both favorably and unfavorably. He had for some time repented of the tacit engagement (tacit as far as the girl was concerned) which bound him to Margaret. For some time he had been dimly aware of quite novel emo tions in his own heart, and of a new, rather painful, rather pleasant, kind of interest in another lady. Maitland, in fact, was becoming more human than he gave himself credit for, and a sign of "his awakening nature was the blush with which he had greeted, some weeks before, Barton s casual criticism on Mrs. St. John Deloraine. Without any well-defined ideas or hopes, Maitland had felt that his philanthropic entanglement it was rather, he said to himself, an entanglement than an engagement had become irksome to his fancy. Now that the unfortunate parent was oat of the way, he felt that tha daughter would not be more sorr? 82 THE MASK OF CAW. than himself to revise the relations in which they stood to eacfc other. Vanity might have prevented some men from seeing this; but Maitland had not vitality enough for a healthy conceit A curious " aloofness " of nature permitted him to stand aside, i;nd see himself much as a young lady was likely to see him, *his disposition is rare, and not a source of happiness. On the other hand, his future relations to Margaret formed a wizzle inextricable. He could not at all imagine how he was tc iispoae of so embarrassing a protegee. Margaret was becoming voo much of a woman to be left much longer at school; an< where was she to be disposed of ? S I might send her to Girton," he thought, and then, charao tefisticafiy, he began to weigh in m s mind the comparative edu> cational merits cf Girton and Somerville Hall. About on< thing only was he certain: he must consult his college mentor Bielby of St. Gatien s, as soon as might be. Too long had thii Hasselas occupied, like the famous Prince of Abyssinia, witi Sie choice of life neglected to resort to his academic Imlac In the meantime he could only reflect that Margaret must, re main as a pupil at Miss Mariettas. The moment would soon to arriving when some other home, and a chaperon instead of i schoolmistress, must be found for this peculiar object of phi lanthropy and outdoor relief. Maitland was sorry he had not left town by the nine-o clocl train. The early dusk began tc gather, gray and damp; th train was late, having made tardy progress through the half melted snow. He had set out from Paddington by the half -pas ten express, and a glance at the harsh and crabbed page of Brad shaw will prove to the most skeptical that Maitland could no reach Tiverton much before six. Half frozen, and in anythin ; but a happy temper, he engaged a fly and drove off, along heav miserable roads, to the Dovecot. Arriving at the closed and barred gates of that vestal estal lishment, Maitland s cabman " pulled, and pusbed, and kickec and knocked" for a considerable time, without manifest effec Clearly the retainers of Miss Marlett had secured tha position fc the night, and expected no visitors, though Maitland knew ths he oughfr to be expected. " The bandogs bayed and howled," ? they did round the secret bower of the Lady of Branksome; an lights flitted about the windows. When a lantern at last can: flickering up to the gate, the bearer of it stopped to challenges apparently unlooked-for and unwelcome stranger. " Who are you ? What do you want 2" said a female voice, i a strong Devonian accent. 44 1 want Miss Marlett," answered Maitland. There was some hesitation. Then the porter appeared to r fleet that a burglar would not arrive in a cab, and that a surre titious lover would not ask for the schoolmistress. The portals were at length unbarred and lugged apart ov the gravel, and Maitland followed the cook (for she was no 01 less) and the candle up to the front door. He gave his card, ai H-as ushered into the chamber reserved for interviews wi I parents and guardians. The drawing-room had the air and fai j THIS MARK OF CAIN 1 . &3 smell of a room very seldom occupied. All the chairs were so elegantly and cunningly constructed that they tilted up at in tervals, and threw out the unwary male who trusted himself to their hospitality. Their backs were decorated with antimacas sars wrought with glass beads, and these, in the light of one dip, shone fitfully with a frosty luster. On the round table in the middle were volumes of " The Mothers of England," * The Grandrapthers of the Bible," Blair "On the Grave," and " The pic of Hades," the latter copiously and appropriately illus trated, In addition to these cheerful volumes there were large tomes of lake and river scenery, with gilt edges and faded ma genta bindings, shrouded from the garish light of day in drab paper covers. The walls, of a very faint lilac tint, were hung with prize sketches, in water-colors or in pencil, by young ladies who had left. In the former works of art, distant nature was represented as, on the whole, of a mauve hue, while the foreground was mainly composed of burnt-umber rocks, touched up with orange. The shadows in the pencil drawings had an agreeably brilliant polish, like that which, when conferred on fenders by Somebody s Patent Dozne-Blacklead, "increases the attractions of the fire side," according to the advertisements. Maitland knew ail the blacklead caves, broad-hatted brigands, and pea-green trees. They were old acquaintances, and as lie fidgeted about the room lie became very impatient. At last the door opened, and Miss Marlett appeared, rustling in Bilks, very stiff, and with an air of extreme astonishment. * Mr, Maitland?" she said, in an interrogative tone. " Didn t you expect me ? Didn t you get- my telegram ?" asked Maitland. It occurred to him that the storm might have injured the wires, that his message might never have arrived, and that ha might be obliged to explain everything, and break his bad news in. person. " Yes, certainly. I got both your telegrams. But why have you come here ?" " Why, to see Margaret Shields, of course, and consult you about her. But what do you mean by both my telegrams? Miss Marlett turned very pale, and sat down with unexpected Btiddeness. "Oh, what will become of the poor girl?" she cried, "and tfhat will become of me ? It will get talked about. The parents will hear of it, and I am rained." The unfortunate lady passed her handkerchief over her eyes, to the extreme discomfiture of Maitland. He could not bear to jee a woman cry; and that Miss Marlett should cry Miss Mar lett, the least melting, as he had fancied, of her sex was a cir cumstance which entirely puzzled and greatly disconcerted kirn. Ha remained silent, looking at a flow^-r in the pattern of the jarpet, for at least a minute. " I came here to consult you, Miss Marlett, about what is to tecome of the poor girl; but, I do not see how the parents of tla# ft THE MASK OF CAIN. other young ladies are concerned. Death is common to all; and Margaret s father, though his life was exposed to criticism, can not be fairly censured because he has left it. And what do you mean, please, by receiving both my telegrams? I only sent one* to the effect that I would leave town by the 10.30 train, and come straight to you. There must be some mistake somewhere. Oan I see Miss Shields?" " See Miss Shields! Why, she s gone! She left this morning with your friend," said Miss Marlett, raising a face at once mournful and alarmed, and looking straight at her visitor. ** She s gone I She left this morning with my friend!" repeated Maitland, He felt like a man in a dream. " You said in your first telegram that you would come for her yourself, and in your second that you were detained, and that Tour friend and her father s friend, Mr. Lithgow, would call for her by the early train; so she went with him." " My friend, Mr. Lithgow! I have no friend, Mr. Lithgow," cried Maitland; " and I sent no second telegram." " Then who did send it, sir, if you please? For I will show you both telegrams," cried Miss Marlett, now on her defense; and rising, she left the room. While Miss Marlett was absent, in search of the telegrams. Maitland had time to reflect on the unaccountable change in the situation. What had become of Margaret ? Who had any con ceivable interest in removing her from school at the very mo ment of her father s accidental death ? And by what possible circumstances of accident or fraud could two messages from himself have arrived, when he was certain that he had only sent one ? The records of somnambulism contain no story of a per son who dispatched telegrams while walking in his sleep. Then the notion occurred to Maitland that his original dispatch, as he wrote it, might have been mislaid in the office, and that the imaginative clerk who lost it might have filled it up from mem ory, and, like the examinees in the poem, might 14 Have wrote it all by rote, And never wrote it right." But the fluttering approach of such an hypothesis was dispersed by the recollection that Margaret had actually departed, and - (what was worse) had gone off with ** his friend, Mr. Lithgow." Uieariy, no amount of accident or mistake would account for 1 the appearance of Mr. Lithgow, and the disappearance of Mar- | garet. It was characteristic of Maitland that within himself he did not greatly blame the schoolmistress. He had so little human nature as he admitted, on the evidence of his old college tutor that he was never able to see things absolutely and entirely from tlie point of view of his own interests. His own personal ity was not elevated enough to command the whole field of human conduct. He was always making allowances for people, and never felt able to believe himself absolutely hi the right, and every one else absolutely in the wrong. Had he owned a more full-blooded life, he would probably have lost his temper, and " spoken his mind/ as the saying is, to poor Miss Marlett. Sha THE MARK OF CAIN. 8$ certainly should never have let Margaret go with a stranger, on the authority even of a telegram from the girl s guardian, It struck Maitland, finally, that Miss Marlett was very slow about finding the dispatches. She had been absent quite a quarter of an hour. At last she returned, pale and trembling, .with a telegraphic deopatch in her hand, but not alone. She was accompanied by a blonde and agitated young lady, in whom Maitland, having seen her before, might have recognized Miss Janey Herman. But he had no memory for faces, and merely bowed vaguely. " This is Miss Harm an, whom I think you have seen on other occasions," said Miss Marlett, faying to be calm. Maitland bowed again, and wondered more than ever. It did occur to him that the fewer people knew of so delicate a busi- Jiess the better for Margaret s sake. " I have brought Miss Harraan here, Mr. Maitland, partly be- Tause she is Miss Shields greatest friend " (here Janey sobbed), * but chiefly because she can prove, to a certain extent, the fvuth of what I have told you." 41 1 never for a moment doubted it, Miss Marlett; but will you kindly let me compare the two telegrams ? This ia a most ex-^ fraordinary affair, and we ought to lose no time in investigating it, and discovering its meaning. You and I are responsible, you /<now, to ourselves, if unfortunately to no one else, for Mar garet s safety." "But I haven t got the two telegrams!" exclaimed poor Miss Karlett, who could not live up to the stately tone of Maitland. ** I haven t got them, or rather, I only have one of them, and I fc-ave hunted everywhere, high and low, for the other." Then she offered Maitland a single dispatch, and the flimsy T^ink paper fluttered in her shaking hand. Maitland took it up and read aloud: " Sent out at 7.45. Received 7.51. "FROM ROBEHT MAITLAND TO Miss MARLETT, " The Dovecot, Conisbeare, " Tiverton. " I come to-morrow, leaving by 10.30 train. Do not let Mar garet see the newspaper. Her father dead. Break news." " Why, that is my own telegram!" cried Maitland; " but what have you done with the other you said you received ?" That is the very one I cannot find, though I had both on the escritoire in my own room this morning. I cannot believe any cne would touch it. I did not lock them away, not expecting to have any use for them; but I am quite sure, the last time I saw them, they were lying there." " This is very extraordinary," said Maitland. " You tell me, Miss Marlett, that you received two telegrams from me. On th strength of the later of the two you let your pupil go away with a person of whom you know nothing, and then you have not even the telegram to show me. How long an interval was thero between the receipt of the two dispatches ?" ^TcyMfc them both at onc^" said poor, tsoabU&g Mfoa MiiTto1i<V W THE MARK CF CAIN. vr ho felt the weakness of her case, "They were both sent up sidth the letters this morning. Were they not Miss Harman ?" " Yes," said Janey; " I certainly saw two telegraphic enve lopes lying among your letters at breakfast. I mentioned it to to poor Margaret," she added, w?.th a break in her voice. " But why were the telegrams net delivered last night?* Maitland asked. " I have left orders," Miss Marlett answered, "that only tele grams of instant importance are to be sent on at once. It costs twelve shillings, and parents and people are so tiresome, always telegraphing about nothing in particular, and costing a fortune. These telegrams were very important, of course; but nothing more could have been done about them if they had arrived last night, than if they came this morning. I have had a great deal of annoyance and expense/ the schoolmistress added, "with telegrams that had to be paid for." And here most people who live at a distance from telegraph offices, and are afflicted with careless friends whose touch on the wire is easy and light, will perhaps sympathize with Miss Mar lett. " You might at least have telegraphed back to ask me to con firm the instructions, when you read the second dispatch," said Maitland. He was beginning to take an argumentative interest in the strength of his own case. It was certainly very strong, and the excuse for the schoolmistress was weak in proportion. " But that would have been of no use, as it happens," Janey put in an unexpected and welcome ally to Miss Marlett * be cause you must have left Paddington long before the question could have reached you." This was unanswerable, as a matter of fact; and Miss Marlett could not repress a grateful glance in the direction of her way ward pupil. "Well," said Maitland, "it is all very provoking, and very serious. Can you remember at all how the second message ran, Miss Marlett ?" "Indeed, I know it off by heart; it was directed exactly liko that in your hand, and was dated half an hour later. It ran: Plans altered. Margaret required in town. My friend and her father s*, Mr. Lithgow, will call for her soon after mid-day. I noticed there were just twenty words." "And did you also notice the office from which the message was sent out r" " No," said Miss Marlett, shaking her head with an effort at recollection. " I am afraid I did not notice/ " That is very unfortunate," said Maitland, walking vaguely up and down the room. "Do you think the telegram is abso lutely lost?" I have locked everywhere, and asked all the maids." " When did you see it last, for certain?" " I laid both dispatches on the desk in my room when I went cut to make sure that Margajret JU&d everything comforte&le be- THE MARK OF CAIN. 87 ** And where was this Mr. Lithgow then ?" " He was sitting over the tire in my room, trying to warra tamself; he seemed very cold." " Clearly, then, Mr. Lithgow is now in possession of the tele gram, which he probably, or rather certainly, sent himself. Bii how he came to know anything about the girl, or what possible motive he can have had " muttered Maitland to himself. " She has never been in any place, Miss Marlett, since she came to you, where she could have made the man s acquaintance?" "It is impossible to say whom girls may meet, and how they may manage it, Mr. Maitland/ said Miss Marlett, sadly; when J;-iney broke in: " I am sure Margaret never met him here. She was notagiri to have such a secret, and she could not have acted a part so as to have taken me in. I saw him first, out of the window. Mar garet was very unhappy; she had been crying. I said, * Here s a gentleman in furs, Margaret; he must have come for you. Then she looked out and said, It is not my guardian; it is the gentleman whom I saw twice with my father. " " What kind of a man was he to look at ?" " He was tall, and dark, and rather good-looking, with a slight black mustache. He had a fur collar that went up to his eyes almost, and he was not a young man. He was a gentleman," said Janey, who flattered herself that she recognized such per sons as bear without reproach that grand old name when she saw them. : Would you know him again if you met him?" "Anywhere," said Janey; " and I would know his voice." " He wore mourning," said Miss Martlett, " and he told me he had known Margaret s father. I heard him say a few words to her, in a very kind way, about him. That seemed more com fort to Margaret than anything. He did not suffer at all, my dear, he said. He spoke to her in that way. as an older man might." . " Why, how on earth could he know?" cried Maitland. " No one was present when her poor father died. His body was found in a ," and Maitland paused rather awkwardly. There was, perhaps, no necessity for adding to the public information about the circumstances of Mr. Shields decease. " He was overcome by the cold and snow, I mean, on the night of the great storm." "I have always heard that the death of people made drowsy by snow and fatigue is as painless as sleep," said Miss Marlett with some tact. " I suppose that is what the man must have meant," Maitlaud answered. There was nothing more to be said on either side, and yet he lingered, trying to think over any circumstance which might lend a clew in the search for Margaret and of the mysterious Mr. Lithgow. At last he said " Good-night," after making the superfluous remark that it would be as well to let every one suppose that nothing unusual or unexpected had happened. In this view Miss Marlett entirely concurred,, for excellent reasons of hef J8 THE MARK OF CAIN, own, and now she began to regret that she had taken Miss Har- man into her counsels. But there was no help for it; and when. Maitland rejoined his cabman (who had been refreshed by tea), a kind of informal treaty of peace was concluded between Janey and the schoolmistress. After all, it appeared to Miss Marlett (and correctly) that the epistle from the young officer whom Janey regarded as a brother was a natural and harmless com* munication. It chiefly contained accounts of contemporary regimental sports and pastimes, in which the writer had distin guished himself, and if it did end " Yours affectionately," there was nothing very terrible or inflammatory in that, all things considered. So the fair owner of the letter received it into he? own keeping, only she was "never to do it again." Miss Marlett did not ask Janey to say nothing about Mar garet s inexplicable adventure. She believed that the girl would have sufficient sense and good feeling to hold her peace; and if she did not do so of her own accord, no vows would be likely to bind her. In this favorable estimate of her pupil s discretion Miss Marlett was not mistaken. Janey did not even give herself airs of mystery among the girls, which was an act of creditable self-denial. The rest of the school never doubted that, on the death of Miss Shields 1 father, she had been removed by one of her friends. As for Maitland, he was compelled to pass the night at Tiverton, revolving many memories. He had now the gravest reason for anxiety about the girl, of whom he was the only friend and protector, and who was, undeniably, the victim of some plot or conspiracy. Nothing more practical than seeking the advice of Bielbyof St. Gatien s occurred to his perplexed imagination. CHAPTER VI. AT ST. GATIEN S. THE following day was spent by Maitland in travel, and in pushing such inquiries as suggested themselves to a mind not fertile in expedients. He was not wholly unacquainted with novels of adventure, and he based his conduct, as much as pos sible, on what he could remember in these * authorities.* For example, he first went in search of the man who had driven the cab which brought the mysterious Mr. Lithgow to flutter the Dovecot. So far, there was no difficulty. One of the cab-drivers who plied at the station perfectly remembered the gentleman in furs whom he had driven to the school. After waiting at the school till the young lady was ready, he had conveyed them back again to the station, and they took the up-train, That was all he knew. The gentleman, if his opinion were asked, was " a ecaly varmint." On inquiry, Maitland found that this wide moral generalization was based on the limited pour-boire which Mr. Lithgow had presented to his charioteer, Had the gentle man any luggage ? Yes, he had a portmanteau, which he left in the cloak-room, and took away with him on his return to town not in the van, in the railway carriage. "What could be want with all that luggage ?" Maitland wondered. TEE NARK OF CAIN. 9 "The next thing was, of course, to find the guard of tea tram "Which conveyed Margaret and her mysterious friend toTaunton.. This official had seerf the gentleman and tho young lady get out 8,t Tauston, They went on to London. The unfortunate guardian of Margaret Shields was ??o\v obliged to start for Taanton, and thence pursue his way, and his inquiries, as far as Padclington. The position was extremely irksome to Maitiand. Although, in novels, gentlemen often as sume the role of the detective with apparent relish, Maitland was not cant by Nature for the part. * He was too scrupulous and too fchy. He detested asking guards, and porters, and sta tion-masters* and people in refreshment-rooms if they remem bered having seen, yesterday, a gentleman in a fur coat travel ing with a young lady, of whom ha felt that he had to offer only a too suggestive description. The philanthropist could not but see that every one properly constructed, in imagination, a satisfactory little myth to account for ail the circumstances a myth in which Maitiand played the unpopular part of the Avenging Brother or Injured Husband. What other path, indeed, was open to conjecture ? A gentle man in a fur coat, and a young lady of prepossessing appear ance, are traveling alone together, one day, in a carriage marked * Engaged," Next day, another gentleman (not prepossessing, and very nervous) appears on the same route, asking anxious questions about the wayfarer in the notable coat (bearskin, it neeined to have been) and about the interesting young lady. Clearly, the pair were the fond fugitives of Love; while the pur suer represented the less engaging interests of Property, of Law, and of the Family. All the romance and all the popular interest were manifestly on the other side, not on Maitland s side. Even his tips were received without enthusiasm. Maitland felt these disadvantages keenly; and yet he had neither the time nor the power to explain matters. Even if he had told every one he met that he was really the young lady s guardian,, and that the gentleman in the fur coat was (he had every reason to believe) a forger and a miscreant, he would not have been believed. His opinion would, not unjustly, have been looked on as distorted by what Mr. Herbert Spencer calls " the personal bias." He had therefore to put up with general dis trust and brief discourteous replies. Thnjre are many young ladies in the refreshment-bar at Swin- don. There they gather, numerous and fair as the sea-nymphs - Doto, Proto, Doris, and Panope, and beautiful Galate a. Of them Maitland sought to be instructed. But the young ladies were arch and uncommunicative, pretending that their atten tion was engaged in their hospitable duties. Soup it was their business to minister to travelers, not private information. They had seen the gentleman and lady. Very attentive to her he fcemed. Yes, they were on the best terms; " very sweet on ach other," one young lady averred, and then secured her re treat and concealed her blushes by ministering to the wants of hungry and hurried, public. All this was horribly disagreeable to M&i 40 THE MARK OF CAIN. Maitland finally reached Paddington, still asking questions. He had telegraphed the night before to inquire whether two per* sons answering to the oft-repeated description had been noticed at the terminus. He had received a reply in the negative before leaving Tiverton. Here, then, was a check. If the ticket-col lector was to be credited, the objects of his search had reached Westbourne Park, where their tickets had been taken. There, however, all the evidence proved that they had not descended, \ Nobody had seen them alight. Yet, not a trace was to be found * at Paddington of a gentleman in a fur coat, nor of any gentle man traveling alone with a young lady. It was nearly nine o clock when Maitland, puzzled, worn out, and disgusted, arrived in town. He did what he could in th* way of interrogating the porters ail to no purpose. In th? crowd and bustle of passengers, who skirmish for their luggage under inadequate lights no one remembered having seen either of the persons whom Maitland described. There remained tha, chance of finding out and cross-examining all the cab-drivers who had taken up passengers by the late trains the night be fore. But that business could not be transacted at the moment, nor perhaps by any amateur. Maitland s time was limited indeed. He had been obliged to get out at Westbourne Park and prosecute his inquisition there. Thence he drove to Paddington, and, with brief enough spac// for investigations that yielded .nothing, he took his ticket by. the 9. 15 evening train for Oxford. His whole soul was set oit consulting Bielby of St. Gatien s, whom, in his heart, Maitland could not but accuse of being at the bottom of all these unprj* > cedented troubles. If Bielby had not driven him, as it were, cut of Oxford, bj urging him to acquire a wider knowledge of humanity, and t* expand his character by intercourse with every variety of our fallen species, Maitland felt that he might now be vegetating in an existence peaceful, if not well satisfied. " Adventures ar to the adventurous." It is a hard thing when they have to be achieved by a champion who is not adventurous at all. If hw had not given up his own judgment to Bielby s, Maitland told himself, he never would have plunged into philanthropic enter prise, he never would have taken the Hit or Miss, he never would have been entangled in the fortunes of Margaret Shields, and he would not now be concerned with the death, in the snow, of a dissipated old wanderer, nor obliged to hunt down a runaway or kidnapped schoolgirl. Nor would he be suffering the keen and wearing anxiety of speculating on what had befallen Mar garet. His fancy suggested the most gloomy yet plausible solutions of the mystery of her disappearance. In spite of these reflec- tions, Maitiand s confidence in the sagacity of his old tutor was unshaken. Bielby had not been responsible for the details of the methods by which his pupil was trying to expand his char acter. Lastly, he reflected that if he had not taken Bielby s advice, and left Oxford, he never would have known Mrs. St. ohu Iteloraine, the lady of his diffident deskes. THE MARK OF CAIN. 4! So the time passed, the minutes flitting by, like the telegraph posts, ia the aark, and Maitland reached the familiar Oxford Station. He jumped into a hansom, and said, Gafcieas." Past Worcester, up Caxfax, down the High Street, they strug gled through the snow; and at last Maitland got out and kicked at the college gate. The porter (it was nearly midnight) opened it with rather a scared face: " Horful row on in quad, sir, he said. " The young gentle men as a bonfire on, and they re a-larking with the snow. Orf ml A they re a-making, sir." The agricultural operation thus indicated by the porter was being forwarded with great vigor. A number of young men, in every variety of garb (from ulsters to boating-coats), were energetically piling up a huge Alp cf snow against the door of the Master s lodge. Meanwhile, another band had carried into the quad ail the light tables and cane chairs from a lecture- room. Having arranged thesa in a graceful pyramidal form, they introduced come of the firelighters, called " devils by the college servants, and set a match to the whole. Maitland stood for a moment in doubt, looking, in the lurid glare, very like a magician who has raised an army of Sends, and cannot find work for them. He felt no disposition to inter fere, though the venerable mass of St. Gatien s seemed in mo mentary peril, and the noise was enough to waken the dead, let alone the Bursar of Oriel. But Maitland was a non-resident Fellow, known only to the undergraduates, where he was known at all, as a " Radical," with any number of decorative epithets, according to the taste and fancy of the speaker. He did not think he could identify any of the rioters, and he was not cer tain that they would not carry him to his room, and there ecrew him up, according to precedent. Maitland had too much sense of personal dignity to face the idea of owing his escape from his chambers to the resources of civilization at the command of the college blacksmith. Ho therefore, after a moment of irresolution, stole off under a low- quadrangular. Groping and stumbling his familiar way up the darkest of spiral staircases, Maitland missed his footing and fell, with the whole weight of his body, against the door at which he had meant to knock. Over the door was painted, if any one couid have seen it, the name of MR BIELBYv " Come in,** said a gruff voice, as if the knocking had been done in the most conventional manner. Maitland had come in by this time, and found the distinguished Mr. Bielby Fellow of St. Gatien s sitting by his fireside, attired in a gray shooting coat, and busy with a book and a pipe. This gentleman had, on taking his degree, gone to town, and prac ticed with singular success at the Chancery Bar. But on so sudden disgust or disappointment, he threw up his pracnc-3. 43 THE MARK OF CA.ZN., turned to college, and there lived a retired life among hie ** brown Greek manuscripts. He was a man of the world, turned hermit, and the first of the kind whom Maitland had ever known. He had " coached" Maitiand, though he usually took no pupils, and remained his friend and counselor." " How are you, Maitlard? said the student, without rising. " I thought, from the way in which you knocked, that you were some of the young men. coming to * draw me,* as I think they call it." f Mr. Bielby smiled as he spoke. He knew that the under- r graduates were as likely to "draw" him as boys who hunt a | hare are likely to draw a fierce old bear that " dwells among j. bones and blood." Mr. Bielby s own environment, to be sure, was not of the grisly | and mortuary character thus energetically described by the- .poet. j His pipe was in his hand. His broad, bald, red face, ending in \. an auburn, spade-shaped beard, wore the air of content. Around him were old books that had belonged to famous students of old Scaliger, Meursius, Muretus and before him lay the proof- sheets of his long-deferred work, a new critical edition of " Demetrius of Scepsis/ Looking at his friend, Maitland envied the learned calm of a man who had not contrived, in the task of developing his own human nature, to become involved, like his pupil, in a singular and deplorable conjuncture of circumstances. "The men are making a terrible riot in quad," he said, answer ing the other s remark. "Yes, yes," replied Bielby, genially; "boys will be boys, and eo will young men. I believe our Torpid has bumped Keble, and the event is being celebrated.* Here there came a terrific howl from without, and a crash of broken glass. " There go some windows into their battels," said Mr. Bielby. * They will hear of this from the provost. But what brings you here, Maitland, so unexpectedly? Very glad to see you, what ever it is." "Well, sir," said Maitland, "I rather want to ask your advice on an important matter. The fact is. to begin at the beginning of a long story, that some time ago I got, more or less, engaged to be married." Tliis was not a very ardent or lover-like announcement, but Bielby seemed gratified. | " Ah-ha," replied the tutor, with a humorous twinkle. J * Happy to hear it. Indeed, I had heard a rumor, a whisper! A little bird, as they say, brought a hint of it I hope, Mait land, a happy otnen! A pleasant woman of the world, one who can take her own part in society, and your part, too, a little if you will let me say so is exactly what you need. I congratulate you very heartily. And are we likely to see the young lady m Oxford ? Where is she just now ?" Maitland saw that the learned Bielby had indeed heard some thing, and not the right thing. He flushed all over as he though! c t&s &r&&, and of Mrs. St. John Delorain*. I THE MARK OF CAIN. 41 * ** Tm sure I wish I knew," said Maitland at last, beginning to find this consulting of the oracle a little difficult. " The fact ie, that s just what I wanted to consult you about. I I m afraid I ve lost all traces of the young lady." * Why, what do you mean ?" asked the don, his face suddenly growing grave, while his voice had not yet lost its humorous tone. "She has not eloped? You don t mean to tell rue she Las run away from you ?" ** I really don t know what to say," answered Maitland. " I m afraid ehe has been run away with, that she is the victim of Borne plot or conspiracy." ** You* surely can t mean what you say * (and now the voice was gruffer than ever). ** People don t plot and conspire now adays, if ever they did, which probably they didn t! And who are the young lady s people ? Why don t they look after her ? I had heard she was n widow, but she must have friends." " She is not a widow she is an orphan," said Maitland, blush ing painfully. " I am her guardian in a kind of way." * Why, the wrong stories hav reached me altogether. I m sure I beg your pardon, but did you tell me her name ?" " Her name is Shields Margaret Shields" (" Not the name I was told," muttered Bielby) "and her father was a man who had been rather unsuccessful in life." ** What was his profession, what did he do ? ; " He had been a sailor, I think," said the academic philan thropist; * but when I knew him he had left the sea, and was, in fact, as far as he was anything, a professional tattooer." " What s that?" 44 He tattooed patterns on sailors and people of that class for a livelihood." Bielby sat perfectly silent for a few minutes, and no one who saw him could doubt that his silence arose from a conscious want of words on a level with the situation. "Has Miss h m, Spears Shields ? thank you; has she been an orphan long ?" he asked, at length, Ha was clearly trying to hope that the most undesirable prospective father-in-law de scribed by Maitland had long been removed from the opportu nity of forming his daughter s character. 44 1 only heard of his death yesterday," said Maitland. * Was it sudden ?" * Why, yes. The fact is, he was a man of rather irregular habits, and he was discovered dead in one of the carts belonging to the Vestry of St. George s, Hanover Square." "St. George s, Hanover Square, indeed!" said the don, and" once more lie relapsed, after a long whistle, into a significant silence* " Maitland," he said, at last, how did you come to be acquainted with these people? The father, as I understand, was a kind of artist ; but you can t, surely, have met them in society ?" * He came a good <leal to my public-house, the Hit or Miss. I think I told you about it, sir, and you rather seemed to approve of it The tavern in Chelsea, if you remember, where I was try 44 THE MARK OF CAIN. fng to do something for the riverside population, and to mi* with them for their good, you know." " Good-night!" growied Bielby, very abruptly, and with con siderable determination in his tone. " 1 am rather busy this evening. I think you had better think no more about the young lady, and sav nothing whatever about the matter to any one. Good-night!" So speaking, the hermit lighted his pipe, which, in the aston ishment caused by Maitland s avowals, he had allowed to go out, and he applied himself to a large old silver tankard, He was a scholar of the Cambridge school, and drank beer. Maitland knew his friend and mentor too well to try to prolong the con versation, and withdrew to his bleak college room, where a timid fire was smoking and crackling among the wet faggots, with a feeling that he must steer his own course in this affair. It was clearly quite out of the path of Bielby s experience, " And yet," thought Maitland, " if I had not taken his advice about trying to become more human, and taken that infernal public- house too, I never would have been in this hole." All day Maitland had scarcely tasted anything that might rea sonably be called food. He had eaten; he had not dined," to adopt the distinction of Brillat-Savarin. He had been depend ent on the gritty and flaccid hospitalities of refreshment-rooms, on the sandwich and the bun. Now he felt faint as well, as weary; but, rummaging amidst his cupboards, he could find no provisions more tempting and nutritious than a box of potted shrimps, from the college stores, and a bottle of some Hungarian Ing firm to the involuntary bailees of not feel equal to tackling these deli- >O, CCX1VA Cfc UrVVfA*? WA QV>AI~1\> *& lUJKCfet U*J-& vintage sent by an advertising firm to the involuntary bailees of St. Gatien s. Maitland did n< cacies. He did not forget that he had neglected to answer a note, en philanthropic business, from Mrs. St. John Deloraine. Weary aa he was, he took pleasure in replying at length, and left the letter out for his scout to post. Then, with a heavy headache, he tum bled into bed, where, for that matter, he went on tumbling and tossing during the greater part of the night. About five o clock he fell into a sleep full of dreams, only to be awakened, at six, by the steam- whooper, or "devil," a sweet boon with which his philanthropy had helped to endow the reluctant and even recal citrant University of Oxford. " Instead of becoming human, I have only become humani tarian," Maitland seemed to hear his own thoughts whispering to himself in a nightmare. Through the slowly broadening winter dawn, in snatches of sleep that lasted, or seemed to last, live minutes at a time, Maitland felt the thought repeating it self, like some haunting refrain, with a feverish iteration, CHAPTER VII. AFTER THE INQUEST. To be ill in college rooms, how miserable it is! Maitland a scout called him at half -past seven with the invariable question, Do you breakfast out, sir ?" U A man were in the eodenmea THE MARK OF CAIN: 41 cell, his scout (if in attendance) would probably arouse him on die morning of his execution with, " Do you breakfast out, sir 7* " No," said Maitland, in reply to the changeless inquiry, " in common room as usual. Pack my bag, I am going down by the pine o clock train." Then he rose and tried to dress; but his head ached more than ever, his legs seemed to belong to some one else, and to be no subject of just complacency to their owner. He reeled as he strove to cross the room, then he struggled back into bed, where, feeling alternately hot and cold, he covered himself with his ulster, in addition to his blankets. Anywhere but in college, Maitland would, of course, have rung the bell and called his servant; but in our conservative universities, and especially in so reverend a pile as St. Gatien s, there was, naturally, no bell to ring. Maitland began to try to huddle himself into his great coat, that he might crawl to the window and shout to Dakyns, his scout. But at this moment there fell most gratefully on his ear the epund of a strenuous sniff, repeated at short intervals in his sit ting-room. Often had Maitland regretted the chronic cold and handkerchiefless condition of his bedmaker; but now her sniff was welcome as music, much more so than that of two hunting horns which ambitious sportsmen were trying to blow in quad. *"Mrs. Trattles!" cried Maitland, and his own voice sounded faint in his ears. " Mrs. Trattles!" The lady thus invoked answered with becoming modesty, punctuated by sniffs, from the other side of the door: * Yes, sir; can I do anything for you, sir?" " Call Dakyns, please," said Maitland, falling back on his pil low. I don t feel very well." Dakyns appeared in due course. "Sorry to hear you re ill, sir; you do look a little flushed. Eadn t I better send for Mr. Whalley, sir ?" Now, Mr. Whalley was the doctor whom Oxford, especially the younger generation, delighted to honor. ** No; 1 don t think you need. Bring me breakfast here. I think I ll be able to start for town by the 11.58. And bring me my letters." " Very well, sir," answered Dakyns. Then, with that fearless assumption of responsibility which ways does an Englishman credit, he sent the college messenger in search of Mr. Whalley before he brought round Maitland a letters and his breakfast commons. There were no letters bearing on the subject of Margaret s disappearance; if any such had been addressed to him, they would necessarily be, as Maitland remembered after his first feeling of disappointment, at his rooms in London. Neither Miss Harlett, if she had aught to communicate, nor any one else, could be expected to know that Maitland a first act would be to rush to Oxford and consult Bielby. The guardian of Margaret turned with no success to his breakfast commons: even tea appeared unwelcome and imposs** 48 THE MARK OF CAIN. Maitland felt very drowsy, dull, indifferent, when a knock came to his door, and Mr. Whalley entered. He could not re member having sent for him; but he felt that, as an invalid once ai i, " there was a pain somewhere in the room," and he was feebly pleased to see his physician. * A very bad feverish cold," was the verdict, and Mr. Whalley \vouid call again next day, till which time Maitland was forbid den to leave his room. He drowsed through the day, disturbed by occasional howls from the quadrangle, where the men were snowballing a little, and, later, by the scraping shovels of the navvies who had been sent in to remove the snow, and with it the efficient cause <*. nocturnal disorders in St. Gatien s. So the time passed, Maitland not being quite conscious of its passage, and each hour putting Margaret Shields more and more beyond the reach of the very few people who were interested in her existence. Maitland s illness took a more severe form than "Whalley had anticipated, and the lungs were affected. Bielby Tras informed of his state, and came to see him; but Maitland talked so wildly about the Hit or Miss, about the man in the bearskin coat, and other unintelligible matters, that the hermit soon withdrew to the more comprehensible fragments of " Denie- *ius of Scepsis." He visited his old pupil daily, and behaved w?*J> real kindness; but the old implicit trust never revived with Hitland s returning health. At last the fever abated. Maitland felt weak, yet perfectly conscious of what had passed, and doubly anxious about what was to be done, if there was, indeed, a chance of doing any thing. Men of his own standing had by this time become aware that he was in Oxford, and sick, consequently there was always some one to look after him. " Brown," said Maitland to a friend, on- the fifth day after his illness began, * would you mind giving me my things? I ll try to dress." The experiment was so far successful that Maitland left the Saeer bare slit of a place called his bedroom (formed, like many xford bedrooms, by a partition added to the large single room of old times), and moved into the weirdly eesthetic study, deco rated in the Early William Morris manner. " Now will you howl for Dakyns, and make him have this telegram sent to the post ? Awfully sorry to trouble you, but I can t howl yet for myself," whispered Maitland, huskily, as IIQ scribbled on a telegraph form. " Delighted to howl for you," said Brown, and presently the wires were carrying a message to Barton in town. Maitland wanted to see him at once, on very pressing business. In a couple of hours there came a reply: Barton would be with Mait land by dinner-time. The ghostly room, in the Early William Morris manner, looked oozy and even homelike when the lamp was lit, when the dusky blue curtains were drawn, and a monster of the deep one of the famous Oxford soles, larger than you ever see them else* THE MARS OF wheresmoked bet ween Maitland and Barton. Beside the latter stood a silver quart pot, full of " strong," a reminiscence of " the old coaching aays," when Maitland had read with Barton for Greats. The invalid s toast and water wore an air of modest conviviality, and might have been mistaken for sherry by any one who relied merely on such information as is furnished by the sense of eight. The wing of a partridge (the remainder of the brace fell to Barton s lot) was disposed of by the patient; and then, over the wine, which he did not touch, and the wal nuts, which he tried nervously to crack in his thin, white hands, Maitland made confession and sought advice. It was certainly much easier talking to Barton than to Bielby, fcvr Barton knew so much already, especially about the Hit or Miss; but when it came to the story of the guardianship of Mar garet, and the kind of prospective engagement to that young lady, Barton rose and began to walk about the room. But the old beams creaked under him in the weak places; and Barton, eeing how much he discomposed Maitland, sat down again, and ^steadied his nerves with a glass of the famous St. Gatien s port. Then, when Maitland in the orderly course of his narrative, came to the finding of poor Dick Shields body in the snow-cart, Barton cried, " Why, you don fcjtaean to say that was the man, .the girl s father ? By George, I can tell you something about him I At the inquest my partner, old Munby, made out " "Has there been an inquest already? Oh, of course there must have been," said Maitland, whose mind had run so much on Margaret s disappearance that he had given little of his thoughts (weak and inconsecutive enough of l&te) to the death of her father. " Of course there has been an inquest. Have you not read the papers since you were ill T Now, Maitland had the common-room back numbers of the Times since the day of his return from Devonshire in his study at that very moment. But his reading, so far, had been limitea to the "Agony Column" of the advertisements (where he half had cast any light on the fortunes of Margaret. " I have not seen anything about the inquest," he said. "What verdict did they bring in? The usual one, I suppose * Visitation,* and all that kind of thing, or Death from ex posure while under the influence of alcoholic stimulants. " "That s exactly what they made it," said Barton; "and I don t blame them; for the medical evidence my worthy partner gave left them no other choice. You can see what he said for yourself in the papers." Barton had been turning over the file of the Times, and showed Maitland the brief record of the inquest and the verdict; matters so common that their chronicle might be, and perhaps is, kept stereotyped, with blanks for names and dates. M A miserable end," said Maitland, when he had perused the paragraph, " And now I had better go on witi my story ? But 4S THE MARK OF what did you mean by saying you didn t blame the coroh*r * jury ?" 44 Have you any more story ? Is it not enough ? I don t kje w that I should tell you; it is too horrid 1" " Don t keep anything from me, please," said Maitland, Hior- ing nervously. ** I must know everything." * Well," answered Barton, his voice sinking to a tone of re luctant horror "well, your poor friend was murdered! That s what I meant when I said I did not blame the jury; they could have given no other verdict than they did on the evidence of my partner." Murder! The very word has power to startle, as if the crime were a new thing, not as old (so all religions tell us) a.3 the first brothers. As a meteoric stone falls on our planet, strange and unexplained, a waif of the universe, from a nameless system-, so the horror of murder descends on us, when we meet it, with an alien dread, as of an intrusion from some lost star t some wan dering world that is hell. "Murdered!" cried Maitland. "Why, Barton, you must be dreaming! Who on earth could have murdered poor Shields? If ever there was a man who was no one s enemy but his own, that man was Shields! And he iterally had nothing that any one could have wanted to steal. I allowed him so much a email sum paid weekly, on Thursdays; and it was a Wednesday when he was when he died. lie could not have had a shilling at that moment in the world! * I am very sorry to have to repeat it, but murdered he was, all the same, and that by a very cunning and cautious villain a man, I should say, of some education." " But how could it possibly have been done? There s the evi dence before you in the paper. There was not a trace of vio lence on him, and the circumstances, which were so character istic of his ways, were more than enough to account for his death. The exposure, the cold, the mere sleeping in the snow it s well known to be fatal. Why," said Maitland, eagerly, * in a long walk home from shooting in winter, I have had to send back a beater for one of the keepers; and we found him quite asleep, in a snowdrift, under a hedge. He never would Have wakened." He was naturally anxious to refute the horrible conclusion which Barton had arrived at. The young doctor only shook his head. His opinion was manifestly fixed. " But how can you possibly knew better than the jury," urge* Maitland peevishly, "and the coroner, and the medical c nicer for the district, who were all convinced that his death was per fectly natural that he got drunk, lost his way, laid down in the cart, and perished of exposure ? Why, you did not even hear the evidence. 1 can t make out," he went on, witii : tho qaeru- lousness of an invalid, " why you sfcouid have come up just to talk such nonsense. The coroner and the jury arw sine t>. Lave been right." " Weil, you see, it was not th^ coroner*!* business nor THE MARK OF CAIN. tt Irasfaess to fepow better than the medical officer for the district, on whose evidence they relied. But it is my business; for the said officer is my partner, and, but for me, our business would be worth very little. He is about as ignorant and easy-going an excellent old fellow as ever let a life slip out of his hands." "Then if you knew so much, why didn t you keep him straight T * Well, as it happened, I was down in Surrey with my people, at a wedding, when the death occurred, and they made a rather superficial examination of the deceased." " Still, I see less than ever how you got a chance to form such ftn extraordinary and horrible opinion if you were not there, and had only this printed evidence," said Maitland, waving a sheet of the Times, "to go by; and this is dead against you. You re too clever." " But I made a proper and most careful examination myself, on my return to town, the day after the inquest," said Barton, " and 1 found evidence enough for me never mind where to put the matter beyond reach of doubt. The man was murdered, and murdered, as I said, very deliberately, by some one who was not an ordinary ignorant scoundrel." *! Still, I don t see how you got a chance to make your exami nation," said Maitland; " the man would be buried as usual " " Excuse rue* The unclaimed bodies of paupers and there was no one to claim his are reserved, if needed- " " I see don t go on," said Maitland, turning rather pale, and fall ing back on his sofa, where he lay for a little with his eyes shut. " It is all the fault of this most unlucky illness of mine," he said, presently. " In my absence, and as nobody knew where I was, there was naturally no one to claim the body. The kind of people who knew about him will take no trouble or risk hi a case like that." He was silent again for a few moments; then, * What do you make out to have been the cause of death?" he asked. " Well," said Barton, slowly, * I don t much care to go into details which you may say I can hardly prove, and I don t want to distress you in your present state of health." * Why don t you speak out ? Was he poisoned? Did you de tect arsenic or anything? He had been drinking with some One!" * No; if, in a sense, he had been poisoned, there was literally nothing that could be detected by the most skilled analysis. But, my dear fellow, there are venoms that leave no internal trace. If I am right and I think I am he was destroyed by cue of these. He had been a great traveler, had he not ?" " Yes," answered Maitland. * Well, it is strange; the murderer must have been a great traveler also. He must have been among the Macoushi Indiana of Guiana, and well acquainted with their arts. I know them too. I went there botanizing." ** You won t be more explicit?" ** No," he said; you must take it on my word, after alL" Maitland, if not convincatL was silent. Ho had knowledge tie TffS MARK OF CAIN. ncrajhof Barton, and of his heal thy and joyous nature, to us certain that his theory was no morbid delusion; that he had good grounds for an opinion which, as he said, he could no longer prove which was, indeed, now incapable of any proof. No one had seen the commission of the crime, and the crime was of such a nature, and so cunningly planned, that it could not possibly be otherwise brought home to the murderer. Now Maitland, knowing the Hit or Miss, and the private room up-stairs with the dormer windows, where the deed must have been done, if done at all, was certain that there could not pos sibly have been any eye-witness of the crime. "What shall you do?" he asked, "or have you done any. thing in consequence of your discovery? Have you been to the police ?" " No," said Barton; " where was the use? How can I prove anything now ? It is not as if poison had been used, that could be detected by analysis. Besides, I reflected that if I was right, the less fuss made, the more likely was the murderer to show his hand. Supposing he had a secret motive and he must have had he wiLl act on that motive sooner or later. The quieter everything is kept, the more he feels certain he is safe, the sooner he will move in some way or other. Then, perhaps, there may bo a chance of detecting him; but it s an outside chance. Do you know anything of the dead man s past history ?" * Nothing, except that he was from the north, and had Jived a wandering life." * Well, we must wait and see. But there is his daughter, left tinder your care. What do you mean to do about her ?* The question brought Maitland back to his old perplexities, which were now so terribly increased and confused by what he had just been told. " I was going to tell you, when you broke in with this dread ful business. Things were bad before; now they are awful," said Maitland. "JEft s daughter has disappeared/ That was what I was coming to; that was the rest of my story. It was difficult and distressing enough before I knew what you tell ine; now great heavens! what am I to do ?" He turned on the sofa, quite overcome. Barton put his hand encouragingly on his shoulder, and sat so for some minutes. " Tell me all about it, old boy?" asked Barton, at length. He was very much interested, and most anxious to aid his un- j fortunate friend. His presence somehow, was full of help and comfort. Maitland no longer felt alone and friendless, as he had clone after his consultation of Bielby. Thus encouraged, he told, as clearly and fully tfs possible, the tale of the disappear ance of Margaret, and of his entire failure even to come upon her traces or those of her companion. * And you have heard nothing since your illness ?" * Nothing to my purpose. What do you advise me to do? * There is only one thing certain, to my mind," said Barton. ** The seafaring man with whom Shields was drinking on the last night of his life, and the gentleman in the fur travelig-eoat tixa telegram in your name and took away Margaret THE MARK OF CAIN. 51 from Miss Marlett e, are in the same employment, or, by George, are probably the same person. Now, have you any kind of sus picion who they or he may be ? or can you suggest any way of tracking him or them ?" " No," said Maitland; "my mind is a perfect blank on the subject. I never heard of the sailor till the woman at the Hit or Miss mentioned him, the night the body was found. An 3 I never heard of a friend of Shields , a friend who was a gentle man, till I went down to the school." 1 Then all we can do at present is, not to set the police at work they would only prevent the man from showing but to find out whether any one answering to the description is * wanted, or is on their books, at Scotland Yard. Why are %ve not in Paris, where a man, whatever his social position might be, who was capable of that unusual form of crime, would cer tainly have his dossier ? They order these things better in France." "There is just one thing about him, at least about the IB an who was drinking with poor Shields on the night of his death. He was almost certainly tattooed with some marks or other. ?n deed, I remember Mrs." Gullick that s the landlady of the I [it or Miss saying that Shields had been occupied in tattooing him. He did a good deal in that way for sailors." "By Jove," said Barton, "if any fellow understands tattoo* ing, and the class of jail-birds who practice it, I do. It is a ole^ after a fashion; but, after all, many of them that go down to tha eea in ships are tattooed, even when they are decent fellows; and besides, we seldom, in our stage of society, get a view of a, fellow-creature with nothing on but these early decorative de signs." This was only too obvious, and rather damping to Maitland, who for a moment had been inclined to congratulate himself oa his flair as a detective. CHAPTER VIII. THE JAFFA ORANGES. ** Letting 1 dare not wait upon 1 would." OF all fairy gifts, surely the most desirable in prospect, and the most embarrassing in practice, would be the magical tele scope of Prince Ali, in the "Arabian Nights." With hip glass, it will be remembered, he could see whatever was happening on whatever part of the earth he chose, and, though absent, was always able to behold the face of his beloved. How often would one give Aladdin s Lamp, and Fortunatus Purse, and the invisi ble Cap which was made of "a darkness that might be felt," to> possess for one hour the Telescope of Fairyland! Could Maitland and Barton have taken a peep through the tube, while they were pondering over the means of finding Margaret, their quest would have been aided, indeed, but they would scarcely have been reassured. Yet there was nothing very awful, nor squalid, nor alarming, as they might have expect od^ anticipated, and dreaded, in what the vision would have ehowu, 52 THE MARK OF CAIN. THE MARK OF CAIN. 53 "There seems to be a dreadful quiet, smooth, white place, * Baid the girl, slowly, " where I am; and something I feel some thing. I don t know what drives me out of it. I cannot rest in it; and then I find myself on a dark plain, and a great black horror, a kind of blackness falling in drifts, like black snow in a wind, sweeps softly over me, till I feel mixed in the blackness; and there is always some one watching me, and chasing mo in the dark some one I can t see. Then I slide into the smooth, white, horrible place again, and feel I must get away from it! Oh, I don t know which is worst! And they go and come all the while I m asleep, I suppose." " I am waiting for the doctor to look in again; but all Jean do is to get you some Jaffa oranges; nice large ones, myself. You will oblige me, Mrs. Darling " (he turned to the housekeeper), " by placing them in Miss Burnside s room, and then, perhaps, she will find them refreshing when she wakes. Good-bye for the moment, Margaret." The fair woman said nothing, and the dark gentleman walked into the street, where a hansom cab waited for him. " Co vent Garden," he cried to the cabman. We have not for some time seen, or rather we have for some time made believe not to recognize, the Honorable Thomas Gran- ley, whose acquaintance (a very compromising one) we achieved early in this narrative. Mr. Cranley, "with his own substantial private purpose sun- clear before him " (as Mr. Carlyle would have said, in apologiz ing for some more celebrated villain), had enticed Margaret from school. Nor had this been, to a person of his experience and re sources, a feat of very great difficulty. When he had once learned, by the simplest and readiest means, the nature of Mait- land s telegram to Miss Marlett, his course had been clear. The telegram which followed Maitland s, and in which Cranley used Maitland s name, had entirely deceived Miss Marlett, as we have seen. By the most obvious ruses he had prevented Mail- land from following his track to London. His housekeeper had entered the "engaged" carriage at Westbourne Park, and shared, as far as the terminus, the compartment previously occupied by himself and Margaret alone. Between West- bourne Park and Paddington he had packed the notable bear- skin coat in his portmanteau. The consequence was, that o.t Paddington no one noticed a gentleman in a bearskin coat, traveling alone with a young lady. A gentleman in a light ulster, traveling with two ladies, by no means answered to the description Maitland gave in his examination of the porters. They, moreover, had paid but a divided attention to Maitland s inquiries. The success of Cranley s device was secured by its elexnertary simplicity. A gentleman who, for any reason, wishes to ob literate his trail, does wisely to wear some very notable, con- epicuGus, unmistakable garb at one point of his progress. Ke tnen becomes, in the minds of most who see him, " the man in the bearskin coat," or " the man in the jack-boots," or " the man with the white hat." His identity is practically merged iu that 54 THE MARK OF CAIN. of the eoat, or the boots, or the hat; and when be slips aut of them, he seems to leave his personality behind, or to pack it up in his portmanteau, or with his rugs. By acting on this prin ciple (which only requires to be stated to win the assent of pure reason), Mr. Cranley had successfully lost himself and Margaret in London. With Margaret his task had been less difficult than it looked. ! She recognized him as an acquaintance of her father s, and he j represented to her that he had^ been an officer of the man-of-war i in which her father had served: that he had lately encountered { her father, and pitied his poverty in poor Shields an irremedia- j ble condition. The father, so he declared, had spoken to him. often and anxiously about Margaret, and with dislike and dis trust about Maitland. According to Mr. Cranley, Shields chief desire in life had been to see Margaret entirely free from Mait- land s guardianship. But he had been conscious that to take the girl nway from school would be harmful to her prospects. Finally, with his latest breath, so Mr. Cranley declared> he had commended Margaret to his old officer, and had implored him to abstract her from the charge of the Fellow of St. Gatien s. Margaret, as we know, did not entertain a very lively kindness for Maitland, nor had she ever heard her father speak of that unlucky young man with the respect which his kindness, his academic rank, and his position in society deserved. It must be; remembered that, concerning the manner of her father s death, she had shrunk from asking questions. She knew it had been eudden; she inferred that it had not been reputable." Often had she dreaded for him one of the accidents against which Providence does not invariably protect the drunkard. Now the accident had arrived, she was fain to be ignorant cf the manner of it. Her new guardian, again, was obviously a gentleman; he treated her with perfect politeness and respect, and, from the evening of the day when she left school, she had been in charge of that apparently correct chaperon, the hand some housekeeper with the disapproving countenance. Mr. Cranley had even given up to her his own rooms in Victoria Square, and had lodged elsewhere ; his exact address Margaret did not know. The only really delicate point Cranley s as sumption of the name of " Mr. Lithgow" he frankly confessed to her as soon as they were well out of the Dovecote. He rep resented that, for the fulfillment of her father s last wish, the ruse of the telegram and the assumed name had been necessary, though highly repugnant to the feelings of an officer and a gentleman. Poor Margaret had seen nothing of gentlemen ex cept as philanthropists, and (as we know) philanthropists permit themselves a license and discretion not customary in common society. Finally, even had the girl s suspicions been awakened, her ill ness prevented her from too closely reviewing the -situation. She was with her father s friend, an older man by far, and there fore a more acceptable guardian than Maitland. She was ful filling her father s wish, and hoped soon to be put in the way of THE MARK OF CATtf 55 Independence, and of earning her own livelihood; and independ ence was Margaret s ideal. Her father s friend, her own protector in that light shore- yarded Oranley, when she was well enough to think COTIKGCI;- tively. There could be no more complete hallucination. Cran- ley was one of those egotists who do undoubtedly exist, but whose existence, when they are discovered, is a perpetual sur prise even to the selfish race of men. In him the instinct of self- preservation (without which the race could not have endure*! for a week) had remained absolutely unmodified, as it is modifte/i in the rest of us, by thousands of years of inherited social experi ence. Cranley s temper, in every juncture, was precisely th:it [of the first human being who ever found himself and other I human beings struggling in a flood for a floating log that will only support one of them. Everything must give way to hia desire; he had literally never denied himself anything that he dared take. As certainly as the stone, once tossocl up, obeys the only law it knows, and falls back to earth, so surely Cranley would obtain, what he desired (if it seemed safe), though a human life, or a human soul, stood between him and his pur pose. Now, Margaret stood, at this moment, between him a;3d the aims on which his greed was desperately bent. It was, tl sere- fore, necessary that she should vanish; and to that end he bad got her into his power. Cranley s original idea had been ths obvious one of transporting the girl to the Continent, where, under the pretense that a suitable situation of some kind had been found for her, he would so arrange that England shouM never see her more, and that her place among honest women should be lost forever. But there were difficulties in tlva way of this tempting plan. For instance, the girl knew some French, and was no tame, unresisting fool; and then Margaret s illness hi\d occurred, and caused delay, and given time tor re flection. "After all," he thought, as he lit his cigar and examined his mustache in the mirror (kindly provided for that purpose in well-appointed hansoms)" after all, it is only the dead who tell no tales, and make no inconvenient claims." For after turning over in his brain the various safe and wisy ways of "removing" an inconvenient person, o:: dovtlii-h scheme had flashed across a not uninstrueteu intellect -i scheme which appeared open to the smallest numberof objec tions. "She shall take a turn for the worse," he thought; nr.r* I- 3 doctor will be an uncommonly clever man, and particularly v^li read in criminal jurisprudence, if he sees anything HUMpi.-ioj-s in it." to the shop of an eminent firm of chemists, again cab. In the shop he asked for a certain substance, v/hleh it may be as well not to name, and got what he wanted in a stiiaii v^i, M THE MARK OF CAIK. marked POISON. Mr. Cranley then called a third cab, gave the direction of a surgical-instrument maker s (also eminent), and amused his leisure during the drive in removing the label from the bottle. At the surgical -instrument maker s he complained of neuralgia, and purchased a hypodermic syringe for injecting morphine or some such anodyne into his arm. A fourth cab took him back to the house in Victoria Square, where he let himself in with a key, entered the dining-room, and locked the door. Nor was he satisfied with this precaution. After aimlessly moving chairs about for a few minutes, and prowling up and down the room, he paused and listened. What he heard induced him to stuff his pocket-handkerchief into the keyhole, and to lay the hearth-rug across the considerable chink which, as is usual, admitted a healthy draught under the bottom of the door. Then the Honorable Mr. Cranley drew down the blinds, and unpacked his various purchases. lie set them out on the table in order the oranges, the vial, and the hypodermic syringe. Then he carefully examined the oranges, chose half a dozen of the best, and laid the others on a large dessert plate in the dining-room cupboard. One orange he ate, and left the skin oa a plate on the table, in company with a biscuit or two. When all this had been arranged to his mind, Mr. Cranley chose another orange, filled a wine-glass with the liquid in the vial, and then drew off a quantity in the little syringe. Then he very delicately and carefully punctured the skin of one of the oranges, and injected into the fruit the contents of the syringe. This operation he elaborately completed in the case of each of the six chosen oranges, and then tenderly polished their coats with a portion of the skin of the fruit he had eaten. That portion of the skin he consumed to dust in the fire; and, observing that a strong odor remained in -the room, he deliberately turned on the unlighted gas for a few minutes. After this he opened the win dow, sealed his own seal in red wax on paper a great many times, finally burning the collection, and lit a large cigar, which he smoked through with every appearance of enjoyment. While engaged on this portion of his task, he helped himself frequently to sherry from the glass, first carefully rinsed, into which he h ap peared the liquid from the now un labeled vial. Lastly he put the vial in his pocket with the little syringe, stored the si^J oranges, wrapped in delicate paper, within the basket, and closed the window. Next he unlocked the door, and, without opening it, remarked, in a sweet voice: * Now, Alice, you may come in!" The handle turned, and the housekeeper entered. "How is Miss Burnside?" he asked, in the same silvery ac cents. (He had told Margaret that she had better be known by that name, for the present at least.) " She is asleep. I hope she may never waken. What do you want with her ? Why are you keeping her in this house ? What devil s brew have you been making that smells of gas and sherry and sealing-wax r THE MARK OF CAIN. 57 " My dear girl," replied Mr. Cranley, " you put too many ques tions at once. As to your first pair of queries, my reasons for tailing care of Miss Burnside are my own business, and do not concern you, as my housekeeper. As to the devil s brew, which you indicate in a style worthy rather of the ages of Faith and of Alchemy, than of an epoch of positive science, did you never taste sherry and sealing-wax ? If you did not, that is one of the very few alcoholic combinations in which you have never, to my knowledge, attempted experiments. Is there any other matter on which I can enlighten an intelligent and respectful curiosity?" ( The fair woman s blue eyes and white face seemed to glitter I with anger, like a baleful lightning. 1 "I don t understand your chaff," she said, with a few prna- j menial epithets, which, in moments when she was deeply stirred, were apt to decorate her conversation. " I grieve to be obscure," he answered; "brevis essc Idboro, the old story. But, as you say Miss Burnside is sleeping, and a8, when she wakens, she may be feverish, will you kindly carry these oranges, and leave them on a plate by her bedside? They are Jaffa oranges, and finer fruit, Alice, my dear, I have seldom tasted! After that, go to Cavendish Square, and leave this note at the doctor s." " Oh, nothing s too good for her /" growled the jealous woman, thinking of the fruit; to which he replied by offering her several of tho oranges not used in his experiment. Bearing these, she withdrew, throwing a spiteful glance and leaving the door unshut, so that her master distinctly heard her open Margaret s door, come out again, and finally leave the house. " Now, I ll give her a quarter of an hour to waken," said Mr. Cranley, and he took from his pocket a fresh copy o* the Times. He glanced rather anxiously at the second column of the outer sheet. " Still advertising for him," he said to himself; and he then turned to the sporting news. His calmness was ex traordinary, but natural in him; for the reaction of terror at ths possible detection of his villainy had not yet come on. When lie had read all that interested him in the Times, he looked hastily at his watch. I 4< Just twenty minutes gone," he said. " Time she wakened and tried those Jaffa oranges." Then he rose, went up stairs stealthily, paused a moment op- ; posite Margaret s door, and entered the drawing-room. Appar- I ently he did not find any of the chairs in the dining-room com fortable enough; for he chose a large and heavy fauteuil, took it up in his arm, and began to carry it out. In the passage, just opposite Margaret s chamber, he stumbled so heavily that he fell, and the weighty piece of furniture was dashed against the door of the sick-room, making a terrible noise. He picked it up, and retired silently to the dining-room. "That would have wakened the dead," he whispered to him self, "and she is not dead yet. She is certain to see the , and take one of them, and then " * THE MARK OF CAIN. The reflection did not seem to relieve him, as he eat v gnawing tis mustache, in the chair he had brought down with him. Now he deed was being accomplished, even his craven heart a\vok b a kind of criminal remorse. Now anxiety for the issue made iini wish the act undone, or frustrated; now he asked himself f there were no more certain and less perilous way. So intent ; /as his eagerness that a strange kind of lucidity possessed him. le felt as if he beheld and heard what was passing in the liamber of sickness, which he had made a chamber of Death. She has wakened she has looked round she has seen th* /oisoned fruit she has blessed him for his kindness in bringing \ she has tasted the oranges she has turned to sleep again ind the unrelenting venom is at its work! Oh, strange forces that are about us, all inevitably acting, ach in his hour and his place, each fulfilling his law without" turning aside to the right hand or to the left! The raindrop funning down the pane, the star revolving round the sun of the furthest undiscoverable system, the grains of sand sliding from the grasp, the poison gnawing and burning the tissues each Jeerns to move in his inevitable path, obedient to an unrelenting Kill. Innocence, youth, beauty that will spares them not. the rock falls at its hour, whoever is under it. The deadly 3rug slays, though it be blended with the holy elements. It is i will that moves all things mens agitat molem; and yet we San make that will a slave of our own, and turn this way and that the blind, steadfast forces, to the accomplishment of our iesires. It was not, naturally, with these transcendental reflections fiiat the inteltect of Mr. Cranley was at this moment engaged. If he seemed actually to be present in Margaret s chamber, hatching every movement and hearing every heart-beat of the girl he had doomed, his blue lips and livid face, from which he sept wiping the cold drops, did not, therefore, speak of late ftith, or the beginning of remorse. It was entirely on his own security and chances of escaping detection that he was musing. " Now it s done, it can t be undone," he said. " But is it so *ery safe, after all ? The stuff is not beyond analysis, unluckily; >ut it s much more hard to detect this way, mixed with the >range juice, than any other way. And then there s all the hor- ,^d fuss afterward. Even if there is not an inquest as, of course, there won t be they ll ask who the girl is, what the devil she was doing here. Perhaps they ll, some of them, recognize ^.lice: she has been too much before the public, confound her. |t mpy not be very hard to lie through all these inquiries, per- japs." And then he looked mechanically at his cold fingers, and bit is thumb-nail, and yawned. 44 By gad! I wish I had not risked it," lie said to himself; and &s complexion -was now of a curious faint blue, and his heart began to flutter painfully in a manner not strange in his experi ence. He sunk back in his chair, with hie hands all thriving and pricking to the fiBgr-tips. He took a. large silver flask THE MAftK OF CAIN. 59 from his pocket, but he could scarcely unscrew the stopper, and had to manage it with his teeth. A long pull at the liquor re stored him, and he began his round of reflections again. "That French fellow who tried it this way in Scotland was found out," he said; "and " He did not like, even in his mind, to add that the " French fellow," consequently, suffered the extreme penalty of the law. "But then lie was a fool, and boasted beforehand, and bungled it infernally. Still, it s not ab solutely safe; the other plan I thought of first was better. By gad ! I wish I could be sure she had not taken the stuff. Per- haps she hasn t. Anyway, she must be asleep again now; and, besides, there are the other oranges to be substituted for those left in the room, if she has taken it. I must go and see. I don t Jike the job." He filled his pockets with five unpoisoned oranges, and tha skin of a sixth, and so crept upstairs. His situation was. per haps, rather novel. With murder in his remorseless heart, he yet hoped against hope, out of his very poltroonery, that murder had not been done. At the giiTs door he waited and listened, his face horribly agitated and shining wot. All was silent. His heart was sounding hoarsely within him, like a dry pump; he heard it, so noisy and so distinct that he almost feared it might wake the sleeper. If only, after all, she had not touched the fruit! Then he took the door-handle in his clammy grasp; he had to cover it with a handkerchief to get a firm hold. He turned dis creetly, and the door was pushed open in perfect stillness, ex cept for that dreadful husky thumping of his own heart. At this rnc.ment the postman s hard knock at the door nearly made him cry out Jtloud. Then he entered; a dreadful visitor, had any one seen him. She did not see him; she was asleep,^ sound asleep; in the dirty brown twilight of a London winter day, he could make out that much. He did not dare draw close enough to observe her face minutely, or bend down and listen for her breath. And the oranges! Eagerly he looked at them, There were only five of them. Surely no! a sixth had fallen on the floor, where it was lying. With a great sigh of relief he picked up all the six oranges, put them in his pockets, and, as shrmk- ingly as he had come yet shaking his hand at the girl, and cursing his own cowardice under his breath he stole down stairs, opened the dining-room door, and advanced h:,to the blind, empty dusk. " Now I ll settle with you!" came a voice out of the dimness; and the start wrought so wildly on his nerves, excited to the ut most degree as they were, that he gave an inarticulate cry of alarm and despair. Was he trapped, and by whom ? In a moment he saw whence the voice came. It was only Alice Darling, in bonnet and cloak, and with a face Hashed with something more than anger, that stood before him. Not much used to shame, he was yet ashamed ot i us o\v?3 alarm, and tried to dissemble it. He sat down at a writing -tabte facing her, and merely observed: THE NARK OF CAIN. " Now that you have returned Alice, will you kindly brmg lights? I want to read." "What were you doing; up-stairs just now?" she snarled. " Why did you send me off to the doctor s, out of the way?" " My good girl, I have again and again advised you to turn that invaluable curiosity of yours curiosity, a quality which Mr. Matthew Arnold so justly views with high esteem into wider and nobler channels. Disdain the merely personal; accept the calm facts of domestic life as you find them; approach the broader and less irritating problems of Sociology (pardon the term) or Metaphysics." It was cruel to see the enjoyment he got out of teasing this woman by an ironical jargon which mystified her into madness. This time he went too far. With an inarticulate snarl of passion she lifted a knife that lay on the dining-room table and made for him. But this time, being prepared, he was not alarmed; nay, he seemed to take pleasure in the success of his plan of torment ing. The heavy escritoire at which he sat was a breastwork be tween him and the angry woman, He coolly opened a drawer, produced a revolver, and remarked: "No; I did not ask for the carving-knife, Alice. I asked for lights; and you will be good enough to bring them. I am your master, you know, in every sense of the word; and you are aware that you had better both hold your tongue and keep your hands off me and off drink. Fetch the lamp!" She left the room cowed, like a beaten dog. She returned, set the lamp silently on the table, and was gone. Then he noticed a letter, which lay on the escritoire, and was addressed to him. It was a rather peculiar letter to look at, or rather the envelope was peculiar; for, though bordered with heavy black, it was stamped, where the seal should have been, with a strange device in gold and colors a brown bun, in a glory of gilt rays. " Mrs. St. John Deloraine," he said, taking it up. "How in the world did she find me out ? Well, she is indeed a friend that sticketh closer than a brother a deal closer than Surbiton, anyhow." Lord Surbiton was the elder brother of Mr. Cranley, and bore the second title of the family. "I don t suppose there is another woman in London," he thought to himself, " that has not heard all about the row at the Cockpit, and that would write to me." Then he tore the chromatic splendors of the device on the envelope, and read the following epistle: " Early English Bunhouse, Chelsea, Friday. " MY DEAR MR. CRANLEY, Where are you hiding, or yacht ing, you wandering man ? I can hear nothing of you from any one nothing good, and you know I never believe anything else. Do come and see me, at the old Bunhouse here, and tell me about yourself" (" She has heard," he muttered) " and help me in a little difficulty. Our housekeeper (you know we are strictly blue ribbon a, cordon bleu, I call her) has become en gaged to a plumber, and she is leaving us. Can you recommend THE MARK OF CAIN. 61 me another ? I know how interested yon are (in spite of your wicked jokes) in our little enterprise. And we also want a girl, to be under the housekeeper, and keep the accounts. Surely you will come to see me, whether you can advise me or not. " Yours very truly, " MARY ST. JOHN DELORAINE." " Idiot!" murmured Mr. Cranley, as he finished reading this document; and then he added, "By Jove! it s lucky, too. I ll put these two infernal women off on her, and Alice will soon do for the girl, if she once gets at the drink. She s dangerous, by Jove, when she has been drinking. Then the law will do foi Alice, and all will be plain sailing in smooth water." CHAPTER IX. MRS. ST. JOHN DELORAINE. ST. JOHN DELOKAINE, whose letter to Mrs. Cranley wa have been privileged to read, was no ordinary widow. As parts af her character and aspects of her conduct were not devoid of the kind of absurdity which is caused by virtues out of place, let it be said that a better, or kinder, or gentler, or merrier soul than that of Mrs. St. John Deloraine has seldom inhabited a very pleasing and pretty tenement of clay, and a house in Cheyne Walk. The maiden name of this lady was by no means so euphonious s that which she had attained by marriage. Miss "Widdicombe, 0f Chipping Carby, in the county of Somerset, was a very lively, good- hearted and agreeable young woman; but she was by no jnaeans favorably looked on by the ladies of the county families. :Now, in the district around Chipping Carby, the county families are very county indeed, few more so. There is in their demeanor a, kind of morgue so funereal and mournful, that it inevitably reminds the observer (who is not county) of an edifice in Paris, designed by Meryon, and celebrated by Mr. Robert Browning. The county families near Chipping Carby are far, far from gay, and what pleasure they do take, they take entirely in the society of their equals. So determined are they to drink delight of tennis with their peers, and with nobody else, that even the clergy are excluded, ex-officio, and in their degrading capacity of ministers of religion, from the County Lawn Tennis Club. As . we all know how essential young curates fresh from college are to the very being of rural lawn-tennis, 110 finer proof can be given of the inaccessibility of the county people around Chip ping Carby, and of the sacrifices which they are prepared to make to their position. Now, born in the very purple, and indubitably (despite his pro fession) one of the gentlest born of men, was, some seven years ago, a certain Mr. St. John Deloraine. He held the sacrosanct position of a squarson, being at once squire and parson of the parish of Little Wentley. At the head of the quaint old village litreet stands, mirrored in a moat, girdled by beautiful gardenia, und shadowy with trees, the manor house and parsonage (for it iis both in one) of Wentley Deloraine, 2 THE MARK OF CAIN. To this desirable home and opulent share of earth s things did Mr. St. John Deloraine succeed in boyhood. He went to Oxford, he traveled a good deal, lie was held in great favor and affection by the county matrons and the long-nosed young ladies of the county. Another, dwelling on such heights as he, might have become haughty; but there was in this young man a cheery naturalness and love of mirth which often drove him from the society of his equals, and took him into that of attor neys daughters: Fate drew him one day to an archery meeting at Chipping Carby, and there he beheld Miss Widdicombe. With her he paced the level turf, her "points" he counted, and he found that she, at least, could appreciate his somewhat apt quo tation from " Chastelard:" " Pray heaven, we make good ends." Miss Widdicombe did make good "Ends." She vanquished Mrs. Struggles, the veteran lady champion of the shaft and bow, a sportswoman who was now on the verge of sixty. Why are ladies, who, almost professionally, " rejoice in arrows," like the Homeric Artemis why are they nearly always so well stricken in years ? Was Maid Marion forty at least before her perform ances obtained for her a place in the well-known band of Hood, Tuck, Little John & Co. ? This, however, is a digression. For our purpose it is enough that the contrast between Miss Widdicombe s vivacity and the deadly stolidity of the county families, between her youth and the maturity of her vanquished competitors, entirely won the heart of Mr. St. John Deloraine. He saw he loved her he was laughed at he proposed he was accepted and oh, shame! the county had to accept, more or less, Miss Widdicombe, the attor ney s daughter, as chatelaine (delightful word, and dear to the author of " Guy Livingstone ") of Wentley Deloraine. When the early death of her husband threw Mrs. St. John Deloraine almost alone on the world (for her family had, natu rally, been offended by her good fortune), she left the gray old squarsonage, and went to town. In London, Mrs. St. John De loraine did not find people stiff. With a good name, an impul sive manner, a kind heart, a gentle tongue, and plenty of money, she was welcome almost everywhere, except at the big county dinners which the county people of her district give to each other when they come to town. This lady, like many of us, had turned to charity and philan thropy in the earlier days of her bereavement; but, unlike mosvt; of usj her benevolence had not died out with the sharpest pang,f of her sorrow. Never, surely, was there such a festive philanthropist as Mrs- St. John Deloraine. She would go from a garden-party to *> mother s meeting; she was great at taking children for a day in the country, and had the art of keeping them amused. She wa* on a dozen charitable committees, belonged to at least three, clnbs, at which gentlemen as well as ladies of fashion wera eligible, and where music and minstrelsy enlivened t& *ft5JP. dinner hours. THE MARK OF CAIN. & So ood and unsuspecting, unluckily, was Mrs. St. John Delo raine, that, ehe made bosom friends for life, and contracted vows of eternal sympathy, wherever she went. At Air v or on the Spanish frontier, she has been seen enjoying herself with ac quaintances a little dubious, like Greek texts which, ;*" not abso lutely corrupt, yet stand greatly in need of explanation. It i needless to say that gentlemen of fortune, in the old sense that is. gentlemen in quest of a fortune pursued hotly or artfully after Mrs. St. John Deloraine. But as she never for a moment suspected their wile*, so these devices were entirely wasted on her, and her least warrantable admirers found that she insisted on accepting them as endowed with all the Christian virtues. Just as some amateurs of music are incapable of conceiving that there breathes a man who has no joy in popular concerts (we shall have popular conic sections next), so Mrs. St. John Delo raine persevered in crediting all she met with a passion for virtue. Their speech might bewray them as worldlings of the world, but she insisted on interpreting their talk as a kind of harmless levity, as a mere cynical mask assumed by a tender and pious nature. Thus, no one ever combined a delight in good works with a taste for good things so successfully as Mrs. St. John Deloraine. At this moment the lady s " favorite vanity," in the matter of good works, was the Bunhouse. This really serviceable, though quaint institution was not, in idea, quite unlike Mait- land s enterprise of the philanthropic public-house, the Hit or Miss. In a slum of Chelsea there might have been observed a modest place of entertainment, in the coffee and bun line, with a highly elaborate Chelsea bun painted on the side. This pLce of art, which gave its name to the establishment, was the work of one of Mrs. St. John Deloraine s friends, an artist of the high est promise, who fell an early victim to arrangements in. haschisch and Irish whisky. In spite of this ill-omened begin ning, the Bunhouse did very useful work. It was a kind of un 7 official club and home, not for friendly girls, nor the compara tively subdued and domesticated slavery of common life, but for the tameless tribes of young women of the metropolis. Those who disdain service, who turn up expressive features at sewing-machines, and who decline to stand perpendicularly for fifteen hours a day in shops all these young female outlaws, not professionally vicious, found in the Bunhouse a kind of char itable shelter and home. They were amused, they were looked after, they were en couraged not to stand each other drinks, nor to rival the pro fanity of their brothers and fathers. " Places " were found for them, in the rare instances when they condescended to " places." Sometimes they breakfasted at the Bunhouse, sometimes went there to supper. Very often they came in a state of artificial cheerfulness, or ready for battle. Then there would arise such a disturbance as civilization seldom sees. Not otherwise than when boys, having tied two cats by the tails, hang them over the handle of a door they then spit, and shriek, and swear, far files, ami the clamor goes up to heaveu; so did the street re- 64 THE MARK OF CAIN, Bound when the young patrons of the Bunhouse were in a war* like humor. Then the stern housekeeper would intervene, and check these motions of their minds, lia.ee certamina tanta, turn ing the more persistent combatants into the street. Next day Mrs. St. John Deloraine would come in her carriage, and try to be very severe, and then would weep a little, and all the girls would shed tears, all would have a good cry together, and finally the lady mother (Mrs. St. John Deloraine) would take a few of them for a drive in the park. After that there would be peace for a while, and presently disturbance would come again. For this establishment it was that Mrs. St. John Deloraine wanted a housekeeper and an assistant. The former housekeeper, as we have been told, had yielded to love, " which subdues the hearts of all female women, even of the prudent," according to Homer, and was going to share the home and bear the children of a plumber. With her usual invincible innocence, Mrs. St. John Deloraine had chosen to regard the Honorable Thomas Cranley as a kind good Christian in disguise, i*nd to him she ap pealed in her need of a housekeeper and assistant. No application could posibly have suited that gentleman bet ter. He could give his own servant an excellent character; and if once she was left to herself, to her passions?, and the society of Margaret, that young lady s earthly existence would shortly cease to embarrass Mr. Cranley. Probably there was not one other man among the motley herds of Mrs. St. John Deloraine s acquaintance who would have used her unsuspicious kindness as an instrument in a plot of any sort. But Mr. Cranley had (when there was no personal danger to be run) the courage of his character. "Shall I go and lunch with her?" he asked himself, as he twisted her note, with its characteristic black border and device of brown and gold. " I haven t shown anywhere I was likely to meet any ono I knew, not since since I came back from Monte Carlo." Even to himself ho did not like to mention that affair of the Cockpit. The man in the story who boasted that he had com mitted every crime in the calendar withdrew his large words when asked " if he had ever cheated at cards." "Well," Mr. Cranley went oa, " I don t know; I dare say it s safe enough. She does know some of those Cockpit fellows; confound her, she knows all sorts of fellows. Bat none of them are likely to be up so early in the. day not up to luncheon any how. She says " and he looked again at the noto ; that she ll be alone; but she won t. Every one she sees before lunch she esks to luncheon: every one she meets before diimrr she asks to dinner. I wish I hud her money: it would bo simpler and safer by a very long way than this kind of business. There really see 1 !*! s iiv> end to it when once you be#in. However, here goes," said Mr. Cranley, sitting down to write a letter at the escritoire which had just served him as a bul-.vark and breastwork. , " Til write and accept. Probably she ll have no one with her, but some girl from Chipping (Jarby. or some missionary from the Solomon lalands who never heard of a heathen like iue." THE MARK OF CAIN. 65 As 9, consequence of these reflections, Mr. Cranley arrived, when the clock was pointing to half -past one, at Mrs. St. John Deloraine s house in Cheyne Walk. He had scarcely entered the drawing-room before that lady, in a costume which agreeably became her pleasant English style of beauty, rtishsd into the room, tumbling over a favorite Dandie Dinmont terrier, and holding out both her hands. The terrier howled, and Mrs. St. John Deloraine had scarcely- grasped the hand which Mr. Cranlay extended with enthusi asm, when she knelt on the carpet and was consoling the Dandie. " Love in which thy hound has part," quoted Mr. Cranley. And the lady, rising with her face becomingly flushed be neath her fuzzy brown hair, smiled, and did not remark the sneer. "Thank you so much for coming, Mr. Cranley," she said; "and, as I have put off luncheon till two, do tell me that you know some one who will suit me for my dear Bunhouse. I know how much you have always been interested in our little project." Mr. Cranley assured her that, by a remarkable coincidence, he knew the very kind of people she wanted. Alice he briefly described as a respectable woman of great strength of character, " of body, too, I believe, which will not make her less fit for the position.*" " No," said Mrs. St. John Deloraine, sadly; " the dear girls are ftoraetimes a little tiresome. On Wednesday, Mrs. Carter, the housekeeper, you know, went to one of the exhibitions with her "fiance, and the girls broke ail the windows and almost all the tea-things." " The woman whom I am happy to be able to recommend to you will not stand anything of that kind, answered Mr. Cranley. " She is quiet, but extremely firm, and has been accustomed to deal with a very desperate character. At one time, I mean, she was engaged as the attendant of a person of treacherous and ungovernable disposition." This was true enough: and Mr. Craniey then began to give a more or less fanciful history of Margaret. She had been left in his charge by her father, an early acquaintance, a man who had known better days, but had bequeathed her nothing, save an excellent schooling #nd the desire to earn her own livelihood. So far he kne\v he was safe enough; for Margaret was the last girl to tell the real tale of her life, and her desire to avoid Maitland was strong enough to keep her silent, even had she not been naturally proud and indisposed to make confidences. " There is only one thing I must ask," said Mr. Cranley, when he had quite persuaded the lady -that Margaret would set a splendid example to her young friends. " How soon does your housekeeper leave you, and when do you need the services of the new-comers ?" " Well, the plumber is rather in a hurry. He really is a good man, and Hike him better for it, though it seems rather selfish of him to want to rob me of Joan, Ho is determioM to be max* 36 THE MARK OF CAIN. yied before next Bank Holiday in a fortnight that is and then they will go on their honeymoon of three days to Yarmouth." Mr. Cranley blessed the luck that had not made the plumber a yet more impetuous wooer. " No laggard in love," he said, smiling. < Well, in a fortnight the two women will be quite ready for their new place. But I must ask you to remember that the younger is somewhat deli cate, and has by no means recovered from the shock of her father s sudden death a very sad affair," added Mr. Cranley, in a sympathetic voice. " Poor dear girl!" cried Mrs, St. John Deloraine, with the ready tears in her eyes; for this lady spontaneously acted OH "the injunction to weep with those who weep, and also laugfe with those who laugh. Mr. Granley, who was beginning to feel hungry, led he thoughts off to the latest farce in which Mr. Toole had amused the town; and when Mrs. St. John Deloraine had giggled till sh* wept again over her memories of this entertainment, she sud* <lenly looked at her watch. "Why, he s very late," she said; and yet it is not far to come from the Hit or Miss." " From the Hit or Miss!" cried Mr. Cranley, much loude* than he was aware. " Yes; you may well wonder, if you don t know about it, that I should have asked a gentleman from a public-house to mee(/ you. But you will be quite in love with him; he is such a very good young man. Not handsome, nor very amusing; but people think a great deal too much of amusmgness now. He is very 4 very good, and spends almost all his time among the poor. He is a Fellow of hi? college at Oxford." During this discourse Mr. Cranley was pretending to play with the terrier; but, stoop as he might, his face was livid, anf/ lie knew it. "Did I tell you his name?" Mrs. St. John Deloraine ran oj He is a " Here the door was opened, and the servant announced " M* Maitland." When Mrs. St. John Deloraine /lad welcomed her new guest, she turned, and found that Mr. Cranley was looking out of tb window. His position was indeed agonizing, and, in the circumstances a stronger heart might have blanched at the encounter. \ When Cranley last met Maitland, he had been the guest of that philanthropist, and he had gone from his table to swindle his fellow-revelers. What other things he had done things in which Maitland was concerned the reader knows, or at leas* suspects. But it was not these deeds which troubled Mr. Cranley, for these he knew were undetected. It was that affair of tiw baccarat which unmanned him. There was nothing for it but to face Maitland and the sitiii- on. " Let me introduce you " said Mrs, St. John Deloraine. " There is no need." interrupted Maitlandr " Mr. Crtuiie/ THE MARK OF CAIN. f have known each other for some time. I don t think we met," he added, looking at Cranley, "since you dined with mi. at the Olympic, and we are not likely to meet again, I m afraid; for to-moVrow, as I have come to tell Mrs. St. John Deloraine, .". go to Paris on business of importance." Mr. Cranley breathed again; it was obvious that Haitian^ . living out of the world as he did, and concerned (as Cranlej; well knew him to be) with private affairs of an urgent charapT, ter, had never been told of the trouble at the Cockpit, or hud, ii^ his absent fashion, never attended to what he might have hear<@ with the hearing of the ear. As to Paris, he had the best rca* son for guessing why Maitland was bound thither, as he was thi* secret source of the information on which Maitland proposed t*v act. At luncheon which, like the dinner described by the Ameri can guest, was " luscious and abundant " Mr. Cranley was nior^ sparkling than the champagne, and made even Maitland laugh- He recounted little philanthropic misadventures of his own casee in which he had been humorously misled by the Captain Wragg* 1 of this world, or beguiled by the authors of that polite corr^ spondence begging letters. When luncheon was over, and when Maitland was obliged^ reluctantly, to go (for he liked Mrs. St. John Deloraine s conr pany very much), Cranley, who had determined to see him ouf shook hands in a very cordial way with the Fellow of S* Gatien s. " And when are we likely to meet again ?" he asked. "I really don t know, said Maitland. " I have business i^ Paris, and I cannot say how long I may be detained on the Coir tinent/ "No more can I," said Mr. Cranley to himself; " but I hop** you won t return in time to bother me with your blundering i quiries, if *ver you have the luck to return at all." But while he said this to himself, to Maitland he only wisbeA a good voyage, and particularly recommended to him a comedy (and a comedienne) at the Palais Royal. CHAPTER X. TRAPS. THE day before the encounter with Mr. Cranley at the housr of the lady of the Bunhouse, Barton, when he came home froi* a round of professional visits, had found Maitland waiting ir... hf chill, unlighted lodging. 1 *. Of late, Maitland had got into tl? habit of loitering there, discussing and discussing all the myr teries which made him feel that he was indeed "moving nboi* in worlds not realized." Keen as was the interest which Bar ton took in the labyrinth of his friend s affairs, he now and .r.gain wearied of Maitland, and of a conversation that ever revolved round the same fixed but otherwise uncertain points. "Hullo, Maitland; glad to see yon," he observed, with shade of hypocrisy. AnTtiiiiur new to-day f*. 8 THE MARK OF CAIN. " Yes," said Maitland; " I really do think I have a clew at last." "Well, wait a bit till they bring the candles," said Barton, groaning as the bell-rope came away in his hands. " Bring lights, please, and tea, and stir up the fire, Jemima, my friend, w he remarked, when the blackened but alert face of the little slavey appeared at the door. " Yes, Dr. Barton, in a minute, sir," answered Jemima, who greatly admired the doctor, and in ten minutes the dismal lodg- ings looked almost comfortable. " Now for your clew, old man," exclaimed Barton, as he handed Maitland a cup of his peculiar mixture, very weak, with plenty of milk and no sugar. " Oh, Ariadne, what a boon thai; clew of yours has been to the detective mind! To think that, without the Minotaur, the police "would probably never have hit on that invaluable expression, the police have a clew. " Maitland thought this was trifling with the subject. " This advertisement," he said, gravely, " appears to me un doubtedly to refer to the miscreant who carried off Margaret, poor girl." "Does it, by Jove?" cried Barton, with some eagerness this time. " Let s have a look at it." This was what he read aloud: " BEARSKIN COAT, The gentleman traveling with a young lady, who, on Feb. 19th, left a bearskin coat at the Hotel Alsace and Lorraine, Avenue de 1 Opera, Paris, is requested to remove it, or it will be sold to defray expenses. DUPIN." " This may mean business," he said, " or it may not. In the first place, is there such an hotel in Paris as the Alsace et Lor raine ? and is Monsieur Dupin the proprietor ?" " That s &]\ right," said Maitland. "I went at once to the club, and looked up the Bottin, the Paris Directory, don t you know." " So far, so good; and yet I don t quite see what you can make of it. It does not come to much, you know, even if the owner of the coat is the man you want. And again, is he likely to have left such a very notable article of dress behind him in an, hotel ? Anyway, can t you send some detective fellow ? Are you going over yourself in this awful weather ?" So Barton argued, but Maitland was not to be easily put off the hopeful scent. " Why, don t you see," he exclaimed, "the people at the hotel will at least be able to give one a fuller description of the man than anything we have yet. And they may have some idea of where he has gone to; and, at least, they will have noticed how he was treating Margaret, and that, of course, is what I am most anxious to learn. Again, he may have left other things besides the coat, or there may be documents in the pockets. I have read of such things happening." " Yes, in Le Crime de 1 Opera; and a very good story, too, * thfi inrrp.dnlmis Rartr.n- " hut T don *: f:i,nr,v that th.e THE MARK OF CAIN. <$ villain of real life is quite so innocent and careless as the monster of fiction." " Every one knows that murderers are generally detected through some incredible piece of carelessness," said Maitland: " and why should this elaborate scoundrel be more fortunate than, the rest ? If he did leave the coat, he will scarcely care to go back for it: and I do not think the chance should be lost, even if it is a poor one. Besides, I m doing no good here, and I can do no harm there." This was undeniably true; and though Barton muttered some thing about " a false scent," he no longer attempted to turn Mait land from his purpose. He did, however, with some difficulty, prevent the Fellow of St. Gatien s from purchasing a blonde beard, one of those wigs which simulate baldness, and a pair of blue spectacles. In these disguises, Maitland argued, he would certainly avoid recognition, and so discomfit any mischief planned. by the enemies of Margaret. " Yes; but, on the other hand, you would look exactly like a German professor, and probably be taken for a spy of Bis marck s, said Barton. And Maitland reluctantly gave up the idea of disguise. He retained, however, certain astute notions of his own about his plan of operations, and these, unfortunately, he did not com municate to his friend. The fact is, that the long dormant ro mance of Maitland s character was now thoroughly awake, and he began, unconsciously, to enjoy the adventure. His enjoyment did not last very long. The usual troubles of a winter voyage, acting on a dilapidated digestive system, were not spared the guardian of Margaret. But everything even a period of waiting at the Paris salle cCattente, and a struggle with the cockers at the station (who, for some reason, always "decline to take a fare) must come to an end at last. About dinner time, Maitland was jolted through the glare of the Parisian streets, to the Avenue de 1 Opera. At the Hotel Alsace et Lor raine he determined not to betray himself by too precipitate eagerness. In the first place, he wrote an assumed name in the hotel book, choosing, by an unlucky inspiration, the pseudonym of Buchanan. He then ordered dinner in the hotel, and, by way of propitiation, it was a much better dinner than usual that Maitland ordered. Bottles of the higher Bordeaux wines, re posing in beautiful baskets were brought at his command; for he was determined favorably to impress the people of the house. His conduct in this matter was partly determined by the fact that, for the moment, the English were not popular in Paris, In fact, as the French newspapers declared, with more truth than they suspected, " Paris was not the place for English peo ple, especially for English women." In these international circumstances, then, Maitland believed he showed the wisdom of the serpent when he ordered dinner in the fearless old fashion attributed by tradition to milords of the past. But he had reckoned without his appetite. A consequence of sea-travel, neither uncommon nor alarming, * away all desire to eat and drink. As the waiter 70 THE MARK OF CAIN", carried of the untouched hors d ozuvres (whereof Maitland only nibbled the delicious bread and butter); as he bore away the huitres, undiminiBhed in number; as the bisque proved too much for the guest of the evening; as he faltered over the soles, and fine champagne, tenance assumed" an air of owl-like sagacity. There was some- \ thing wrong, the gar con felt sure, about a man who could order a dinner like Maitland s, and then decline to partake thereof. However, even in a republican country, you can hardly arrest a man merely because his intentions are better than his appetite. ] The waiter, therefore, contented himself with assuming an im- ] posing attitude, and whispering something to the hall porter. j The Fellow of St. Gatien s, having dined with the Barmecide regardless of expense, went on (as he hoped) to ingratiate him self with the concierge. From that official he purchased two large cigars, which he did not dream of attempting to enjoy; and he then endeavored to enter into conversation, selecting for a topic the state of the contemporary drama. What would monsieur advise him to go to see ? Where was Mademoiselle Jane Hading playing ? Having in this conversation broken the ice (and almost every rule of French grammar), Maitland began to lead up craftily to the great matter the affair of the bearskin coat. Did many English use the hotel ? Had any of his countrymen been there lately ? He remembered that when he left England a friend of his had asked him to inquire about an article of dress a great v coat which he had left somewhere, perhaps in a cab. Could monsieur, the porter, tell him where he ought to apply for news, about the garment, a coat in peau (fours V On the mention of this raiment a clerkly-looking man. who had been loitering in the office of the concierge, moved to the neighborhood of the door, where he occupied himself in study of a railway map hanging on the wall. The porter now was all smiles. But, certainly! Monsieur had . fallen well in coming to him. Monsieur wanted a lost coat in. I skin of the bear ? It had been lost by a compatriot of mon- J sieur s ? Would monsieur give himself the trouble to follow the 1 porter to the room where lost baggage was kept? Maitland, full of excitement, and of belief that he now really * was on the trail, followed the porter, and the clerkly man (rut her. a libertj , thought Maitland), followed him. The porter led them to a door marked ** private," and they all thn-e entered. The clerkly-looking person now courteously motioned Malt- laud to take a chair. The Englishman sat down in some surprise. ** Where." he asked, " was the bearskin coab " Would monsieur first deign to answer a few inquiries? Was the coat his own, or a friend .*;?" ** A friend s/ said Maitlarui, and than, beginning to hesitate. THE MARK OF CAIK ft admitted that the garment only belonged to " a man he knew something about." " What is his name?" asked the clerkly man, who was taking notes. His name, indeed! If Maitland only knew that! His French now began to grow worse and worse in proportion to his flurry, * Weli. he explained, it was very unlucky but he did not exactly remember the man s name. It was quite a common name. He had met him for the first time on board the steamer; but the il man was going to Brussels, and, finding that Maitland was on !J his way to Paris, had asked him to make inquiries. Here the clerkly person, laying down his notes, asked if En s glish gentlemen usually spoke of persons whom they had just met for the first time on board the steamer as their friends? Maitland, at this, lost his temper, and observed that, as they seemed disposed to give him more trouble than information, he would-go and see the play. Hereupon the clerkly person requested monsieur to remember, in his deportment, what was due to Justice; and when Maitland rose, in a stately way, to leave the room, he also rose and stood in front of the door. However little of human nature an Englishman may possess, he is rarely unmoved by this kind of treatment. Maitland took the man by the collar, sans phrase, and spun him round, amid the horrified clamor of the porter. But the man, without any passion, merely produced and displayed a card, containing a voucher that he belonged to the secret police, and calmly asked Maitland for " his papers." Haiti and had no papers. He had understood that passports were no longer required. The detective assured him that passports "spoil nothing. 1 Had monnieur nothing stating his identity? Maitland, entirely forgetting that he had artfully entered his name as " Buchanan * on the hotel book, produced his card, on the lower corner of which was printed, St. Gatien s College. This address puzzled the detective a good deal, while the change of name did not allay his suspicions, and he ended by requesting Maitland to ac company him into the presence of Justice. As there waa no choice, Maitland obtained leave to put some linen in his traveling-bag, and was carried off to what we should call the nearest police-station. Here he was received in a chili j bleak room by a formal man, wearing a decoration, who (after ; some private talk with the detective) asked Maitland to explain his whole conduct in the matter of the coat. In the first place, the detective s notes en their conversation were read aloud, and it was shown that Maitland had given a false name; had orig* inally spoken of the object of his quest as " the coat of a friend;* 1 then " as the coat of a man whom he knew something about; * then as " the coat of a man whose name he did not know;" and that, finally, he had attempted to go away without offering any satisfactory account of himself. All this the philanthropist was constrained to admit; but he was, not unnaturally, Quite unable to submit any explanation of ?2 THE MARK OF C.47M his proceedings. What chiefly discomfited him was the fact that his proceedings were a matter of interest and observation. Why, he "kept wondering, was all this fuss made about a coal which had, or had not, been left by a traveler at the- hotel ? It was perfectly plain that the hotel was used as a souriciere, as tlia police say, as a trap in which all inquirers after the coat eoulidl be captured. Now, if he had been given time (and a French dic tionary), Maitland might have set before the commissaire of I police the whole story of his troubles. He might have begun with the discovery of Shields body in the snow; he might have gone on to Margaret s disappearance (enlevement), and to a description of the costume (bearskin coat and all) of the villain who had carried her away. Then he might have described his relations with Margaret, the necessity f of finding her, the clew offered by the advertisement in the Times, and his own too subtle and ingenious attempt to follow up that clew. But it is improbable that this narrative, had Maitland told it ever so movingly, would have entirely satisfied i the suspicions of the comtnissaire of police. It might even \ have prejudiced that official a.gainst Maitland. Moreover, the \ Fellow of St. Gatien s had neither the presence of mind nor the ;; linguistic resources necessary to relate the whole plot and sub- | stance of this narrative, at a moment s notice, in a cold police- I office, to a skeptical alien. He therefore fell back on a demand ] to be allowed to communicate with the English embassador; and that night Maitland of Gatien s passed, for the first time during ^ his blameless career, in a police-cell. It were superfluous to set down in detail all the humiliations endured by Maitland. Do not the newspapers continually ring with the laments of the British citizen who has fallen into the \ hands of Continental justice? Are not our countrymen the ; common butts of German, French, Spanish, and even Greek and Portuguese Jacks in office ? When an Englishman appears, do not the foreign police usually arrest him at a venture, and inquire afterward ? Maitland had, with the best intentions, done a good deal more than most of these innocents to deserve incarceration. His con duct, as the juge d instruction told him, without mincing mat ters, was undeniably louche. In the first place, the suspicions of Monsieur Dupin, of the Hotel Alsace et Lorraine, had been very naturally excited by seeing the advertisement about the great-coat in the Times, for I he made a study of " the journal of the City." Here was a notice purporting to be signed by himself, and re- I f erring to a bearskin coat, said (quite untruly) V> have been left in his own hotel. A bearskin coat! The very words breathe of Nihilism, dynamite, stratagems, and spoils. Then the advertise ment was in English, which is, at present and till further notice, the language spoken by the brave Irish. Monsieur Dupin, as a Liberal, had every sympathy with the brave Irish in their noble Btruggle for whatever they are struggling for; but he did nofc wish his hostelry to become, so to speak, the mountain-cave of and the great secret storehouse of nitre-glycerine. TEE MARK OF CAIN. TO With a view of elucidating the mystery of the advertisement, he had introduced the police on his premises, and the police had hardly settled down in its affui. when, lo! a stranger lia-1 been captured, in most suspicious circumstances. Monsieur Dupin felt very clever indeed, and his friends envied him the distinc tion and advertisement which were soon to be his. When Maitland appeared, as he did in due course, before ths juge d instruction, he attempted to fall back 011 the obsolete Civis Romanus sum ! He was an English citizen. He had writ ten to the English embassador, or rather to an old St. Gatien s man, an attache of the embassy, whom he luckily happened to know. But this great ally chanced to be out of town, and his name availed Maitland nothing in his interview with the juge d instruction. That magistrate, sitting with his back to the light, gazed at Maitland with steady, small, gray eyes, while the scribble of the pen of the grejjier, as he took down the En glish man s deposition, sounded shriU in the bleak torture-chamber of the law. * Your name?" asked the juge d instruction. " Maitland," replied the Fellow of St. Gatien s. " You lie!" said the juge d instructio*. " You entered the name of Buchanan in the book of the hotel." " My name is on my cards, and on that letter," said Maitland, Keeping his temper wonderfully. The documents in question lay on a table, as pieces justified* tives. " These cards, that letter, you have robbed them from some unfortunate person, and have draped (affluble), yourself in the trappings of your victim ! Where is his body ?" This was the working hypothesis which the juge d instruc tion had formed within himself to account for the general con duct and proceedings of the person under examination. " Where is whose body ?" asked Maitland, in unspeakable sur prise." " Buchanan," said the juge d instruction. (And to hear the gallantry with which he attacked this difficult name, of itself insured respect.) "Buchanan, you are acting on a deplorable system. Justice is not deceived" by your falsehood, nor eluded by your subterfuges. She is calm, stern, but merciful. Un bosom yourself freely " (repandez franchement), "and you may learn that justice can be lenient. It is your interest to be frank." {II est de votre interet d etre franc*) "But what do you want me to say?" asked the prevenu. 34 What is all this pother about a great-coat r" (Tant de fraca* pour un paletot ?) Maitland was rather proud of this sentence. ** It is the part of Justice to ask questions, not to answer them," said the juge d instruction. " Levity will avail you nothing. Tell me, Buchanan, why did you ask for the coat lU the Hotel Alsace et Lorraine ?" "In answer to that advertisement in the Times." " That is false; you yourself inserted the advertisement. Butj 74 THE MARK OF CAI17. on your own system, bad as it is, what did you want with the " It belonged to a man who had done me an ill-turn.* " His name ?" " I do not know his name; that is just what I wanted to find out. I might have found his tailor s name on the coat, and then have discovered for whom the coat was made." " You are aware that the proprietor of the hotel did not insert the forged advertisement ?" 44 So he says." " You doubt his word ? You insult France in one of her citi zens!" Maitland apologized. " Then whom do you suspect of inserting the advertisement, as you deny having done it yourself, for some purpose which does not appear ?" " I believe the owner of the coat put in the advertisement." That is absurd. What had he to gain by it ?" " To remove me from London, where he is probably conspiring against me at this moment." " Buchanan, you trifle with justice!" " I have told you that my name is not Buchanan." " Then- why did you forge that name in the hotel book ?" "I wrote it in the hurry and excitement of the moment; it was incorrect." " Why did you lie ?" (Pourguoi avez vous menti f) Maitland made an irritable movement. " You threaten Justice. Your attitude is deplorable. You are consigned au secret, and will have an opportunity of revis ing your situation, and replying more fully to the inquiries of Justice." So ended Maitland es first and, happily, sole interview with a juge d instruction. Lord Walter Brixton, his old St. Gatien s pupil, returned from the country on the very day of Maitland s examination. An interview (during which Lord Walter laughed unfeelingly) with his old coach was not refused to the attache, and, in a few hours, after some formalities had been complied with, Maitland was a free man. His pieces justificatives, his letters, cards, and return ticket to Charing Cross, were returned to him intact. But Maitland determined to sacrifice the privileges of the last- named document. " I am going straight to Constantinople and the Greek Islands,* he wrote to Barton. " Do you know, I don t like Paris. My attempt at an investigation has not been a success. I have en dured considerable discomfort, and I fear my case will get into the Figaro, and there will be dozens of social leaders and descriptive headers about me in all the penny papers." Then Maitland gave his banker s address at Constantinople, relinquished the quest of Margaret, and for awhile, as the Saga* say,, " is out of the storj.- TEE MARK OF CAIN. 75 CHAPTER XI. THE NIGHT OP ADVENTURES. A COLD March wind whistled and yelled round the twisted chimneys of the Hit or Miss. The day had been a trial to every sense. First there would conic a long-drawn distant moan, a sigh like that of a querulous woman; then the sigh grew nearer and became a shriek, as if the same woman were working her self up into a passion; and finally a gust of rainy hail, mixed with dust and small stones, was dashed, like a parting insult, on the windows of the Hit or Miss. Then the shriek died away again into a wail and a moan, and so da capo. " Well, Eliza, what do you do now that the pantomime sea son is over?" said Barton to Miss Gullick, who was busily dress ing a doll, as she perched on the table in tho parlor of the Hit or Miss. Barton occasionally looked into the public-house, partly to sea that Maitland s investment was properly managed, partly be cause the place was near the scene of his labors; not least, pev- haps, because he had still an unacknowledged hope that light on the mystery of Margaret would come from the original cen ter of the troubles. " I m in no hurry to take an engagement," answered the reso lute Eliza, holding up and examining her doll. It was a fashion able doll, in a close-fitting tweed ulster, which covered a perfect panoply of other female furniture, all in the latest mode. As the child worked, she looked now and then at the illustrations in a journal of the fashions. " There s two or three managers in treaty with me," said Eliza. " There s the Follies and Frivol ities down Norwood way, and the Varieties in the Ammersmith Road. Thirty shillings a week and niy dresses, that s what I ask for, and I ll get it too! Just now I m taking a vacation, and making an honest penny with these things," and she nodded at a little basket full of the wardrobe of dolls. "Do you sell the dresses to the toy -shops, Eliza?" asked Bar* ton. "Yes," said Eliza; "I am doing well with them. I m not sure I sha n t need to take on some extra hands, by the job, to finish my Easter orders." "Fm glad you are successful," answered Barton. * I say, Elian!" " Yes, doctor." 41 Would you mind showing me the room np-stairs where poor old Shields was sitting the night before he was found in the snow ?" It had suddenly occurred to Barton it might have occurred to him before that this room might be worth examining. * We ain t using it now! I ll show you it," said Eliza, leading the way up-stairs, and pointing to a door. Barton took hold of the handle. " Ladies first," he said, making way for Eliza, with a bow. ** No," came the child s voice, from half-way down the stairs^ 78 THE MARK OF CAIN. " I won t come in! They say he walks. I ve heard noises ther* at night." A cold stuffy smell came out of the darkness of the unused room. Barton struck a match, and, seeing a candle on the table, lit it. The room had been left as it was when last it was ten anted. On the table were an empty bottle, two tumblers, and a little saucer stained with dry colors, blue and red, part of Shields stock in trade. They were, besides, some very sharp needles of bone, of a savage make, which Barton recognized. They were the instruments used for tattooing in the islands of tbe Southern Seas. Barton placed the lighted candle beside the saucer, and turned. over the needles. Presently his eyes brightened: he chose one cut, and examined it closely. It was astonishingly sharp, and was not of bone like the others, but of wood. Barton made an incision in the hard brittle wood with his knife, and carefully felt the point, which was slightly crusted with a dry brown substance. " I thought so," he said aloud, as he placed the needle in a pocket instrument-case: " the stem of the leaf of the coucourite palm?" Then he went down-stairs with the candle. " Did you see him?" asked Eliza, with wide-open eyes. * Don t be childish, Eliza; there s no one to see. Why is the room left all untidy ?" " Mother dare not go in!" whispered the child. Then shuj asked in a low voice, " Did you never hear no more of that aw f ul big bird I saw the night old Shields died in the snow ?" " The bird was a dream, Eliza. I am surprised such a clever girl as you should go on thinking about it," said Barton, rather sternly. " You were tired and ill, and you fancied it." "No, I wasn t," said the child, solemnly. "I never say no more about it to mother, nor to nobody; but I did see it ay, and heard it, too. I remember it at night in my bed, and I am afraid. Oh! what s that?" She turned with a scream, in answer to a scream on the other side of the curtained door that separated the parlor from the bar of the Hit or Miss. Some one seemed to fall against the door, which at the sarna moment flew open, as if the wind had burst it in. A girl, pant ing and holding her hand to her breast, her face so deadly white and so contorted by terror as to be unrecognizable, flashed into the room. " Oh, come! oh, come!" she cried. " She s killing her!" Then the girl vanished as hurriedly as she had appeared. It was all over in a moment; the vivid impression of a face mad dened by fear, and of a cry for help, that was all. In that mo ment Barton had seized his hat, and sped, as hard as he could run, after the girl. He found her breaking through a knot of loafers in the bar, who were besieging her with questions. She turned and saw Barton. " Come, doctor, come!" she screamed again, and fled out into the night, crossing another girl who was apparently speeding on tbe same errand. Barton could just see the flying skirts of the THE MARK OF CAIN. TT first mefftengor, and hear her footfall ring on the pavement. Up a Long .street, down another, and then into a black slum she flew, anil, last.]} , under a swinging sign of the old-fashioned sort, and through a doorway. Barton, following, found himself for the first t Jme within the portals of the old English Bun house. The wide passage (the house was old) was crowded with girls, wildly escited, weeping, screaming, and some of them swearing. They* were pressed so thick round a door at the end of the hall, that Barton could scarcely thrust his way through them, drag ging one aside, shouldering another: it was a matter of life and death. " Oh, she s been at the drink, and she s killed her I she s killed her! I heard her fall!" one of the frightened girls was exclaim ing with hysterical iteration. " Let me pass!" shouted Barton; and reaching the door at last,, he turned the handle and pushed. The door w T as locked. " Give me room," he cried, and the patrons of the Bunhouse yielding place a little, Barton took a little short run, and drove with all the weight of his shoulders against the door. It opened reluctantly with a crash, and he was hurled into the room by hia own impetus, and by the stress of the girls behind him. What he beheld was more like some dreadful scene of ancienU tragedy than the spectacle of an accident or a crime of modem life. By the windy glare of a dozen gas-jets (red and shaken lib? the flame of blown torches by the rainy gusts that swept through a broken pane), Barton saw a girl stretched bleeding on th* sanded floor. One of her arms made a pillow for her head; her soft dark hair, unfastened, half hid her, like a veil; the other arm lay loosa by her side; her lips were white, her face was bloodless; but there was blood on the deep-blue folds about the bosom, and on the floor. At the further side of this girl who was dead, or seem ingly dead sat, on a low stool, a woman, in a crouching, cat like attitude, quite silent and still. The knife with which she had done the deed was dripping in her hand, the noise of the broken door, and of the entering throng, had not disturbed her. For a moment even Barton s rapidity of action and resolution were paralyzed by the terrible and strange vision that he beheld. He stared with all his eyes, in a mist of doubt and amazement, at a vision, dreadful even to one who saw death every day. Then the modern spirit awoke in him. " Fetch a policeman," he whispered, to one of the crowding frightened troop of girls. " There is a copper at the door, sir: here he comes," said Susan, the young woman who had called Barton from tht Hit or Miss. The helmet of the guardian of the peace appeared welcome above the throng. And still the pale woman In white sat as motionless as the stricken girl at her feet as if she had not been an actor, but a figure in a tableau. , - 78 1HE MA&X OF "Policeman," said Barton, " I give that woman in charge (or an attempt at murder. Take her to the station." " I don t like the looks of her," whispered the policeman. * Fd better get her knife from her first, sir." " Be quick, whatever you do, and have the house cleared. I can t look after the wounded girl in this crowd." Thus addressed, the policeman stole round toward the seated woman, whose eyes had never deigned all this time, to stray from the body of her victim. Barton stealthily drew near, out flanking her on the other side. They were just within arm s reach of the murderess when she leaped with incredible suddenness to her feet, and stood for one moment erect and lovely as a statue, her fair locks lying about her shoulders. Then she raised her right hand; the knife flashed and dropped like lightning into her breast, and she, too, fell beside the body of the girl whom she had stricken." " By George, she s gone!" cried the policeman. Barton pushed past him, and laid his hand on the woman s heart. She stirred once, was violently shaken with the agony of death, and so passed away, carrying into silence her secret and her story. Mr. Cranley s hopes had been, at least partially, fulfilled, " Drink, I suppose, as usual. A rummy start!" remarked thw policeman, sententiously ; and then, while Barton was sounding* and stanching the wound of the housekeeper s victim, and ap plying such styptics as he had within reach, the guardian of social order succeeded in clearing the Bunhouse of its patrons, in closing the door, and in sending a message (by the direction of the girl who had summoned Barton, and who seemed not de void of sense) to Mrs. St. John Dcloraine. While that lady was being expected, the girl, who now took a kind of subordinate lead, was employed by Barton in helping to carry Margaret to her own room, and in generally restoring order. When the messenger arrived at Mrs. St. John Deloraine s house with Barton s brief note, and with his own curt statement that "murder was being done at the Bunhouse, he found the lady superior rehearsing for a play. Mrs. St. John Deloraine was going to give a drawing- room representation of "Nitouche," and the terrible news found her in one of the costumes of the heroine. With a very brief explanation (variously misunder stood by her guests and fellow-amateurs) Mrs. St. John Delo raine hurried off, " just as she was," and astonished Barton (who had never seen her before) by arriving at the Bunhouse as a rather conventional shepherdess, in pink and gray, rouged, and with a fluffy flaxen wig. The versatility with which Mrs. St. John Deloraine made the best of ail worlds occasionally led her into inconsequences of this description. But, if she was on pleasure bent, Mrs. St. John Deloraine had also, not only a kind heart, but a practical mind. In five min utes she had heard the tragic history, had dried her eyes, torn off her wig, and settled herself as nurse by the bedside of Mar garet. The girl s wound, as Barton fwas happily able to assure her, Was by no means really dangerous; for the point of the weapon *?HE MARK OF CALY. X cad been wrned. and had touched no vital port. But the pro digious force with which the blow had followed on a scene of violent reproaches and insane threats (described by one of the \ young women) had affected most perilously a constitution j already weakened by sickness and trouble, Mrs. St. John Delo- f raine, assisted by the most responsible of the Bunhouse girls, announced her intention to sit up all night with tha patient. Barton who was moved, perhaps, as much by the beauty of the girl, and by the excitement of the events, as by professional i duty remained in attendance till nearly dawn, when the lady j superior insisted that he should go home and take some rest. J As the danger for the patient was not immediate, but lay in the chances of lever, Barton allowed himself to be persuaded, and, at about five in the morning, he let himself out of the Bunhouse, and made sleepily for his lodgings. But sleep that night was to be a stranger to him, and his share of adventures which, like i sorrows, never " come as single spies, but in battalions "was by no means exhausted. The night, through which the first glimpse of dawn just ] peered, was extremely cold; and Barton, who had left his great- j coat m the Hit or Miss, stamped his way homeward, his hands deep in his pockets, his hat tight on his head, and with his pipe for company. * There s the gray beginning, Zooks," he muttered to himself, In half -conscious quotation. He was as drowsy as a man can be who still steps along and keeps an open eye. The streets were empty, a sandy wind was walking them alone, and hard by the milieu river flowed on, the lamplights dimly reflected in the growing blue of morning. Bhrton was just passing the locked doors of the Hit or Miss for he preferred to go homeward by the riverside when a singular sound, or mixture of sounds, from behind the battered old hoarding close by, attracted his attention. In a moment he was as alert as if he had not passed a nuit blanche. The sound at first seemed not very unlike that which a traction engine, or any other monster that murders Bleep, may make before quite getting up steam. Then there was plainly discernible a great whirring and flapping, as if a windmill had become deranged in its economy, and was labor ing " without a conscience or an aim." Whir, whir, flap, thump, came the sounds, and then, mixed with and dominating them, the choking scream of a human being in agony. But, strangely enough, the scream appeared to be half- checked and suppressed, as if-the sufferer, whoever he might be, and whatever his torment, were striving with all hie might to endure in silence. Barton had heard such cries in the rooms of the hospital. To such sounds the question chambers of old prisons ; and palaces must often have echoed. Barton stopped, thrilling \ with a half -superstitious dread; so moving, in that urban waste, were the accents of pain. Then whir, flap, came the noise again, and again the human rtote was heard, and was followed by a groan. The time seemed infinite, though it was only to be reckoned by moments, or pulse* hfiiit* ihf fr.h IIP. fiiirincy whfr.fi tho f.nrt.nrincr p.rank revnlvftd. and m THE MARK OF CAIN. was answered by the hard-wrung exclamation of agony. Bar ton looked at the palings of the hoarding: they were a couple of feet higher than his head. Then he sprung up, caught the top at a place where the rusty- pointed nai s were few and broken, and next moment, with torn coat and a scratch on his arm, he was within the palisade. Through the crepuscular light, bulks of things big, black, formless were dimly seen; but nearer the hoarding than the middle of the waste open ground was a spectacle that puzzled the looker-on. Great fans were winnowing the air, a wheel was running at prodigious speed, flaming vapors fled hissing forth, and the figure of a man, attached in some way to the revolving fans, was now lifted several feet from the ground, now dashed to earth again, now caught in and now torn from the teeth of the flying wheel. Barton did not pause long in empty speculation ; he shouted, " Hold on!" or some other such encouragement, and ran in the direction of the sufferer. But, as he stumbled over dust-heaps, piles of wood, old baskets, outworn hats, forsaken boots, and all the rubbish of the waste land, the movement of the flying fans began to slacken, the wheels ran slowly down, and, with a great throb and creak, the whole engine ceased moving, as a heart stops beating. Then, just when all was over, a voice came from the crumpled mass of humanity in the center of the hideous mechanism: "Don t come here; stop, on your peril! I am armed, and I will shoot!" The last words were feeble, and scarcely audible. Barton stood still. Even a brave man likes (the old Irish du- tiing days being over) at least to know why he is to be shot at. 4 * What s the matter with you?" he said. "What on earth are you doing ? How can you talk about shooting ? Have you a whole bone in your body? To this the only reply was another groan ; then silence. By this time there was a full measure of the light " which Lon don takes the day to be," and Barton had a fair view of his part ner in this dialogue. He could see the crumpled form of a man, weak and distorted like a victim of the rack scattered, so to speak in a posture inconceivably out of drawing, among the fragments of the en gine. The man s head was lowest, and rested on an old battered box; his middle was supported by a beam of the engine; one of his legs was elevated on one of the fans, the other hung disjoint- edly in the air. The man was strangely dressed in a close-fit ting suit of cloth something between the uniform of bicycle clubs and the tights affected by acrobats. Long, thin, gray locks fell back from a high yellow forehead; there was blood on his rnouth and about his beard. Barton drew near and touched him; the man only groaned. " How am I to help you out of this?" said the surgeon, care fully examining his patient, as he might now be called. A lit- tie close observation showed that the man s arms were strapped THE MARK OF CAIN. fft t>y buckles into the fang, while one of his legs was caught up m some elastic coils of the mechanism. With infinite tenderness, Barton disengaged the victim, whose stifled groans proved at once the extent of his sufferings and of his courage. Finally, the man was free from the machine, and Barton dis covered that, as far as rapid investigation could show, there were no fatal injuries done, though a leg, an arm, and several ribs were fractured, and there were many contusions. " Now I must leave you here for a few minutes, while I go round to the police-office and get men and a stretcher," said Barton. The man held up one appealing hand; the other was para- lyzed. " First hide all this," he murmured, moving his head so as to indicate the fragments of his engine. They lay all confused, a heap of spars, cogs, wheels, fans, and what not, a puzzle to the (science of mechanics. " Don t let them know a word about it," he said. " Say I had an accident that I was sleep-walking and fell from a window say anything you like, but promise to keep my secret. In a week," he murmured, dreamily, " it would have been complete. It is the second time I have jus* missed success and fame." " I have not an idea what your secret may be," said Barton* " but here goes for the machine." And while the wounded man watched him, with piteous and wistful eyes, he rapidly hid different fragments of the mechan ism beneath and among the heaps of rubbish, which were many and, for purposes of concealment, meritorious. " Are you sure you can find them all again?" asked the victin* of misplaced ingenuity. "Oh yes, all right, "" said Barton. "Then you must get me to the street before you bring an^ help. If they find me here they will ask questions, and my secret will conie out." " But how on earth am I to get you to the street?" Barton in- ?uired, very naturally. " Even if you could bear being carried, could not lift you over the boarding." "lean bear anything I will bear anything," said the man. "Look in iny breast, and you will find a key of a door in the palings." Barton looked as directed, and, fastened round the neck of the sufferer by a leather shoe-tie, he discovered, sure enough, a kind of skeleton-key in strong wire. "With that you can open the gate, and get me into tha street," said the crushed man; " but be very careful not to opera the door while any one is passing." He only got out these messages very slowly, and after inter* vala of silence broken by groans. "Wait! one thing more," he said, as Barton stooped to taks him in his arms. * I may faint from pain. My address is Pater- son s Rents, hard by; my name is Winter." Then, after a pause, " i can pay for a private room at the infirmary, and I must hav<* S2 TBS MARK OF CAIN. one. Lift the third plank from the end in the left-hand cornet by the window, and you will find enough. Now!" Then Barton very carefully picked up the poor man, mere bag of bones (and broken bones) as he was. The horrible pain that the man endured Barton could imagine, yet he dared not hurry, for the ground was strewn with every sort of pitfall. At last it seemed hours to Barton, it must have been an eternity to the sufferer the boarding was reached, and, ai ter listening earnestly, Barton opened the door, peered out, saw that the coast was clear, deposited his burden on the pave ment, and flew to the not distant police station. He was not absent long, and returning with four men and a stretcher, he found, of course, quite a large crowd grouped round the place where he had left his charge. The milkman waa there, several shabby women, one or two puzzled police men, three cabmen (though no wizard could have called up a cab at that hour and place had he wanted to catch a train); there were riverside loafers, workmen going to their labor, and a lucky penny-a-liner with his " tissue " and pencil. Pushing his way through these gapers, Barton found, as he expected, that his patient had fainted. He aided the policemen to place him on the stretcher, accompanied him to the infirmary (hcnv common a sight is that motionless body on a stretcher m the streets!), explained as much of the case as was fitting to the surgeon in attendance, and then, at last, returned to his rooms and a bath, puzzling over the mystery. " By Jove!" he said, as he helped himself to a deviled wing of a chicken at breakfast, " I believe the poor beggar had been ex perimenting with a flying-machine!" CHAPTER XII. A PATIENT. A DOCTOR, especially a doctor actively practicing among the poor and laborious, soon learns to take the incidents of his pro fession rather calmly. Barton had often been called in when a revel had ended in suicide or death; and if he had never before seen a man caught in a flying-machine, he had been nsed to heal wounds quite as dreadful caused by engines of a more f a- miiiar nature. Though Barton, therefore, could go out to his round of visits on the day after his adventurous vigil without unusual emotion, it may be conceived ^hat the distress and confusion at the Bun- house were very great. The police and the gloomy attendants on Death were in the place; Mrs. St. John Deloraine had to see many official people, to answer many disagreeable questions, and suffered in every way extremely from the consequences of her beneficent enterprise. But she displayed a coolness and business-like common sense worthy of a less versatile philan thropist, and found time, amid the temporary ruin of her work, to pay due attention to Margaret. She had scarcely noticed the gir j before, talcing her very much on trust, and being preoccu pied with various schemes of social enjoyment. But now she THE MARK OF CAIN. 88 was strack by her beauty and her educated manner, though that, to be sure, was amply accounted for by the explanation* offered by Craniey before her engagement. Already Mrs. St. John Deloraine was conceiving a project of perpetual friend ship, and had made up her mind to adopt Margaret as a daugh ter, or, let us say, niece and companion. The girl was too re fined to cope with the rough-and-ready young patronesses of the Bunhouse. If the lady s mind was even more preoccupied by the survivor in the hideous events of the evening than by the tragedy itself and the dead woman, Barton, too, found his thoughts straying to his new patient not that he was a flirt or a sentimentalist. Even in the spring Barton s fancy did not lightly turn to thoughts of love. He was not one of those " amatorious * young men (as Milton says, perhaps at too great length) who cannot see a pretty girl without losing their hearts to her. Bar ton was not so prodigal of his affections; yet it were vain to deny that, as he went his rather drowsy round of professional visits, his ideas were more apt to stray to the girl who had been stabbed, than to the man who had been rescued from the ma chinery. The man was old, yellow, withered, and, in Barton s private opinion, more of a lunatic charlatan than a successful in ventor. The girl was young, beautiful, and interesting enough, apart from her wound, to demand and secure a place in any fancy absolutely free. It was no more than Barton s actual duty to call at the old English Bunhouse in the afternoon. Here he was welcomed by Mrs. St. John Deloraine, who was somewhat pale and shaken by the horrors of the night. She had turned all her young custom ers out, and had stuck up a paper bearing a legend to the effect that the old English Bunhouse was closed for the present and till further notice. A wistful crowd was drawn upon the opposite side of the street, and was staring at the Bunhouse. Sirs. St. John Deloraine welcomed Barton, it might almost be Baid, with open arms. She had by this time, of course, laid aside the outward guise of Nitouche, and wag dressed like other ladies, but better. 44 My dear Mr. Barton," she exclaimed, " your patient is doing very weU indeed. She will be crazy with delight when she hears that you have called." Barton could not help being pleased at this intelligence, even when he had discounted it as freely as even a very brief ac quaintance with Mrs. St. John Deloraine taught her friends to do. 44 Do you think she is able to see me ?" he asked. < T>II run jjgj. room and inquire," said Mrs. St. John Deio* fleeting nimbi Astraea, as described raine, fleeting nimbly up the steep stairs, and leaving, like ibed by Charles Lamb s friend, a kind of rosy track or glow behind her from the chastened splendor of her very becoming hose. Barton waited rather impatiently till the lady of the Bun- house returned with the message that he might accompany har iao the presence of the invalid. 84 THE MARK OF CAIN, A very brief interview satisfied him trial nis patient was goiug on even better than he had hoped; also that she possessed very beautiful arid melancholy eyes. She said little, but that little kindly, and asked whether Mr. Craniey had sent to inquire for her. Mrs. St. John Deloraine answered the question, which puzzled Barton, in the negative; and when they had left Mar garet (Miss Burnside, as Mrs. St. John Deloraine called her), he ventured to ask who the Mr. Craniey might be about whom the girl had spoken. " Well," replied Mrs. St. John Deloraine, " it was through Mr. Craniey that I engaged both Miss Burnside and that unhappy woman whom I can t think of without shuddering. Tha inquest, is to be held to-morrow. It is too dreadful when these things, that have been only names, come home to one. Now, I really do not like to think hardly of anybody, but I must admit that Mr. Craniey has quite misled me about the housekeeper. He gave her an excellent character, especially for sobriety, and till yes terday I had no fault to find with her. Then, the girls say, she became quite wild and intoxicated, and it is hard to believe that this is the first time she yielded to that horrid temptation. Don t you think it was odd of Mr. Craniey ? And I sent round a messenger with a note to his rooms, but it was returned, marked, * Has left; address not known. I don t know what has become of him. Perhaps the housekeeper could have told us, but the unfortunate woman is beyond reach of questions." * Do you mean the Mr. Craniey who is Rector of St. Medard s, in Chelsea ?" asked Barton. "No; I mean Mr. Thomas Craniey, the son of the Earl of 3jirkenhead. He was a great friend of mine." " Mr. Thomas Craniey!" exclaimed Barton, with an expression wf face which probably spoke at least three volumes, and these of a highly sensational character. " Now, please/ cried Mrs. St. John Deloraine, clasping her. hands in a pretty attitude of entreaty, like a recording angel hesitating to enter the peccadillo of a favorite saint; " please don t say you know anything against Mr. Craniey. I am aware that he has many enemies." Barton -was silent for a minute. He had that good old school- boy feeling about not telling tales out of school, which is so English and so unknown in France; but, on the other side, he could scarcely think it right to leave a lady of invincible inno- ( cence at the mercy of a confirmed scoundrel. Upon my word, it is a very unpleasant thing to have to say; but really, if you ask me, I should remark that Mr. Cranley s enemies are of his own making. I would not go to him for a girl s character, I m sure. But I thought he had disappeared from society." " So he had. He told me that there was a conspiracy against him, and that I was one of the few people who, he felt sure, Tould never desert him. And I never would. I never turn my Oack on my friends." " If there was a conspiracy," said Barton, " I am the ring- weader in it; for, as you ask me, I must assure you, on my h THE MARK OF CAM. 85 that I detected Mr. Cranley in the act of trying cheat some very young men at cards. I would not have mentioned it for the world," he added, almost alarmed at the expression of paia and terror in Mrs. St. John Delorame s face; "but you wished to be told. And I could not honestly leave you in the belief that he is a man to be trusted. "What he did when I saw him was only what all who knew him well would have expected. And his treatment of you, in the matter of that woman s character, was," cried Barton, growing indignant as he thought of it, ki one of the very basest things I ever heard of. I had seen that woman before; she was not lit to be intrusted with the care of girls. She was at one time very well known." Mrs. St. John Deloraine s face had passed through every shade of expression doubt, shame, and indignation; but now it as- eumed an air of hope. " Margaret has always spoken so well of him," she said, half to herself. " He was always very kind to her, and yet she was only the poor daughter of a humble acquaintance." " Perhaps he deviated into kindness for once," said Barton: but as to his general character, it is certain that it was on a par with the trap he laid for you. I wish I knew where to find him. You must never let him get the poor girl back into his hands." " Certainly not," said Mrs. St. John Deloraine, with convic tion in her voice; " and now I must go back to her, and see whether she wants anything. Do you think I may soon move her to my own house, in Cheyne Walk ? It is not far, and she will be so much more comfortable there." " The best think you can do," said Barton; " and be sure you wend for me if you want me, or if you ever hear anything more of Mr. Cranley. I am quite ready to meet him anywhere." " You will call to-morrow ? " Certainly, about this time," said Barton; and he kept his promise assiduously, calling often. A fortnight went by, and Margaret, almost restored to health, and in a black tea-gown, the property of Mrs. St. John Deloraine, was lying indolently on a sofa in the house in Cheyne Walk. She was watching the struggle between the waning daylight and the fre, when the door opened, and the servant announced " Dr, Barton." Margaret held forth a rather languid hand. " I m so sorry Mrs. St. John Deloraine is out," she said, " She is at a soap-bubble party. I wish 1 could go. It is so long since I saw any children, or had any fun." So Margaret spoke, and then she sighed, remembering the reason why she should not attend soap-bubble parties. <4 I m selfish enough to be glad you could not go," said Barton; " for then I should have missed you. But why do jou r.igiiV" " I have had a good many things to make me unhappy," saidi Margaret, " in addition to my to my accident. You must n<?5 think I am always bewailing myself. But perhaps you kno v that I lost my father, just before I entered Mrs. St. John De;> fraine s service, and then my whole course of life was altered/* 86 THE MARK OF CAW. I am very sorry for you," said Barton, simply. He did not, know what else to "say; but he felt more than Ins conventional words indicated, and perhaps he looked as if he felt it and more. Margaret was still too weak to bear an expression of sympathy, and tears came into her eyes, ^ollowed by a blush on her pale, : thin cheeks. She was on the point of breaking down. There is nothing in the world so trying to a young man as to see a girl crying. A wild impulse to kiss and comfort her; passed through Barton s mind, before he said, awkwardly again: " I can t tell you how sorry I am; I wish I oould do anything for you. Can t I help you in any way ? You must not give up eo early in the troubles of life; and then, who knows but yours, > having begun soon, are nearly over?" Barton would perhaps have liked to ask her to let him see that they were over, as far as one mortal can do as much for : another. " They have been going on so long," said Margaret. t( I have Had such a wandering life, and such changes." Barton would have given much to be able to ask for more in formation; but more was not offered. " Let us think of the future," he said. " Have you any idea wbout what you mean to dp ?" "Mrs. St. John Deloraine is very kind. She wishes me to/ tay with her always. But I am puzzled about Mr. Cranley. I don t know what he would like me to do. He seems to have gone abroad." Barton hated to hear her mention Cranley s name. Had you known him long ?" he asked. " No; for a very short time only. But he was an old friend of my father s and had promised him to take care of me. He took me away from school, and he gave me a start in life." " But surely he might have found something more worthy of you, of your education," said Barton. "What can a girl do?" answered Margaret. "We know so little. I could hardly even have taught very little children.. They thought me dreadfully backward at school at least, Miss I mean, the teachers thought me backward." <k I m sure you know as much as any one should," said Barton^ indignantly. " Were you at a nice school ?" he added. He had been puzzling himself for many days over Margaret s history. She seemed to have had at least the ordinary share of education and knowledge of the world; and yet he had found her occupying a menial position at a philanthropic bunliouse. Even now she was a mere dependent of Mrs. St. John Deloraiue, though there was a stanchness in that lady s character which made her patronage not precarious. * There were some nice girls at it," answered Margar *V with? o>ut committing herself. Rochefoucauld declares that there are excellent marriages, i>ut no such thixut as a delightful marriage, Perhaps school* THE MARK OF CAItf. t* girls may admit, as an abstract truth, that good schools exist* but few would allow that any place of education is " nice. 1 * " It is really getting quite late," Barton observed, reluctantly. He lik^d to watch the girl, whose beauty, made wan by illness, received just a touch of becoming red from the glow of the fire. He liked to talk to her; in fact, this was his most interesting patient by far. It would be miserably black and dark in his lodgings, he was aware; and non-paying patients would be im portunate in proportion to their poverty. The poor are often the most exacting of hypochondriacs. Margaret noticed his reluct ance to go contending with a sense of what he owed to pro priety. * I am sure you must want tea; but I don t like to ring. It ia so short a time since I wore an apron and a cap and the rest cf it myself at the Bunhouse, that I am afraid to ask the servants to do anything for me. They must dislike me; it is very nat ural." " It is not natural at all," said Barton, with conviction; "per- fectly monstrous, on the other hand." This little compliment eclipsed the effect of firelight on the girl s face. " Suppose 1 ring," he added, and then you can Bay, when Mary says * Did you ring, miss ? * No, I didn t ring; but as you are here, Mary* would you mind bringing tea ? " " I don t know if that would be quite honest," said Margaret, doubtfully! "A pious fraud a drawing-room comedy," said Barton; " have we rehearsed it enough V" Then he touched the bell, and the little piece of private theafr* ricals was played out, though one of the artists had some diffi culty (as amateurs often have) in subduing an inclination t< giggle. "Now, this is quite perfect," said Barton, when he had been accommodated with a large piece of plum-cake. " This is tha very kind of cake which we specially prohibit our patients to touch; v^nd so near dinner-time, too! There should be a new proverb, Physician, diet thyself. You see, we don t all live oa a very thin slice of cold bacon and a piece of dry toast." " Mrs. St. John Deloraine has never taken up that kind of life,* said Margaret. " She tries a good many new things," Barton remarked. " Yes; but she is the best woman in the world!" answered the girl. 4< Oh, if you knew what a comfort it is to be with a lady again 1" And she shuddered as she remembered her late chaperon, " I wonder if some day you won t think me very rude ?* asked Barton "you would mind telling me a little of your his tory?" " Mr. Cranley ordered me to say nothing about it," answered Margaret; ** and a great deal is very sad and hard to tell. You are all so kind, and everything is so quiet here, and safe an<& peaceful, that it frightens me to think of tilings that have hap- pened, or may happen." They aka& never happen, if you will trust me, M cried Bar MARK OF CAIN. ton, when a carriage was heard to stop at the gateway of th* garden outside. "Here is Mrs. St. John Deloraine at last/ cried Margaret, starting to run to the window; but she was so weak that she tripped, and would have fallen had Barton not caught her lightly. f * Oh, how stupid you must think me!" she said, blushing, ; And Barton thought he had never seen anything so pretty. "Once for all, I don t think you stupid, or backward, or any thing else that you call yourself." But at that very moment the door opened, and Mrs, St. John Deloraine entered", magnificently comfortable in furs, and bring ing a fresh air of hospitality and content with existence into the room. " Oh, you are here!" she cried, " and I have almost missed you. Now you must stay to dinner. You need not dress; wa are all alone, Margaret and I." So he did stop to dine, and pauper hypochondriacs, eager for his society (which was always cheering), knocked, and rang also, at his door in vain. It was an excellent dinner; and, on the wings of the music Mrs. St. John Deloraine was plaving in the front drawing-room, two happy hours passed lightly ovei Barton and Margaret, into the backward, where all hours go\x* aud evil abide, remembered or forgotten. CHAPTER XIII. ANOTHER PATIENT. ** l)es ailes! dcs ailes! des ail ex! Comme dans le chant do lluekert, 1 * ThcophUe frontier. * SO you think a flying machine impossible, sir, and me, I pro" sume, a fanatic? Well, well, you have Euaebius with yon. *Such an one, he says meaning men, and inventors like me * is a little crazed with the humors of melancholy. " The speaker was the man whom Barton had rescued from the cogs and wheels and springs of an infuriated engine. Barton could not but be interested in the courage and perseverance of this sufferer, whom he was visiting in hospital. The young .surgeon had gone to inspect the room in Patersoirs Rents, and had found it, as he more or less expected, the conventional den of the needy inventor. Our large towns are full of snch persons. They are the treasure hunters of cities and of civilization the modern seekers for the philosopher s stone. At the end of a vista of dreams they behold the great discovery made perfect, and themselves the winners of fame and of wealth incalculable. For the present, most of the?e visionaries are occupied with electricity. They intend to inaka the lightning a domestic slave in every house, and to turn Ariel into a common carrier. But, from the aspect of Winter s den in Patersoii s Rents, it was easy to read that his heart was set on a more ancient foible. The "white deal book-shelves, home-made, which lined every wail, wsre packed "nith tattered books 011 mechanics, and especiall; THE MARK OF CAIN. 89 on the art of flying. Here you saw the spoils of the fourpenny box of cheap book-venders mixed with volumes in better condi tion, purchased at a larger cost. Here among* the litter of tat tered pamphlets and well-thumbed " Proceedings" of the Lin- nean and the Aeronautic Society of Crest Britain here were Fredericus Herrnanr.us De Arte Volandi,"and Cayley s works, and Hat-ton Turner s " Astra Castra." and the " Voyage to the Moon" of Cyrano de Bergerac, and Bishop Wilkins* " Dsedalus," and the same sanguine prelate s " Mercury, the Secret Messen ger. * Here were Cardan and Raymond Lully, and a shabby set of the classics, mostly in French translations, and a score of lucubrations by French and other inventors Ponton. d Ame- court, Borelli, Chabrier, Girard, and Marey. Even if his books had not shown the direction of the new patient s mind (a man is known by his books at least as much as by his companions, and companions Winter had none) even if the shelves had not spoken clearly, the models and odd-and-ends in the room would have proclaimed him an inventor. As the walls were hidden by his library, and as the floor, also, was lit tered with tomes and pamphlets and periodicals, a quantity of miscellaneous gear was hung by hooks from the ceiling. Barton, who was more tnan commonly tall, found his head being buffeted by big preserved wings of birds and other flying things from the sweeping pinions of the albatross to the leathery covering of the bat. From the ceiling, too, hung models, cleverly constructed in various materials; and here a cork with quills stuck into it, and with a kind of drill-bowwas the little flying model of Sir George Cayiey. The whole place, duety and musty, with a faded smell of the oil in bird s feathers, was almost more noisome than curious. When Barton left it, his mind was made up as to the nature of Winter s secret, or delusion; and when he visited that queer patient in hospital, he was not surprised either by his smattered learning or by his golden dreams. " Yes, sir; Eusebius is against me, no doubt," Winter went on with his eager talk. " An acute man rather too acute, don t you think, for a Father of the Church ? That habit he got into of smashing the arguments of the heathen, gave him a kind of fiippancy in talking of high matters." ** Such as flying V" put in Barton. " Yes; such as our great aim the aim of all the ages, I may call it. What does Bishop Wilkins say, sir? Why, he says, I doubt not but that flying in the air" may be easily effected, by a diligent and ingenious artificer. * Diligent/ I may say, I have been; as to ingenious, I leave the verdict to others." ** Was that Peter Wilkins you were quoting?" asked Barton, to humor his man. " Why, no, sir; the bishop was not Peter. Peter Wilkins is the hero of a mere romance, in which, it is tiue, we meet with women Goories he calls them endowed with the power of flight. But they were born so. We get no help from Peter Wilkins* a uierti W THE MARK OF CAIff. " It doesn t seem to be so easy as the bishop fancies 7* remarked Barton, leading him on. "No, sir," cried Winter, all his aches and pains forgotten, and his pale face flushed with the delight of finding a listener who did not laugh at him. " No, sir; the bishop, though ingenious, not a practical man. But look at what he says about the weight of your flying machine 1 Can anything be more sensible? Borne out, too, by the most recent researches, and the authority of Professor Pettigrew Bell himself. You remember the iron fly made by Regimontanus of Nuremberg ?" "The iron fly!" murmured Barton. "I can t say I do." " You will find a history of it in Ramus. This fly would leap from the hands of the great Regimontanus, flutter and buzz round the heads of his guests assembled at supper, and then, as if wearied, return and repose on the finger of its maker." " You don t mean to say you believe that 9 n asked Barton. "Why not, sir; why not? Did not Archytas of Tarentum, one of Plato s acquaintances, construct a wooden dove, in no way less miraculous ? And thfc same Regimontanus, at Nurem berg, fashioned an eagle which, by way of triumph, did fly out of the city to meet Charles V. But where was I? Oh, at Bishop Wilkins, Cardan doubted of the iron fly of Regi montanus, because the material was so heavy. But Bishop Wilkins argues, in accordance with the best modern authorities, that the weight is no hinderance whatever, if proportional to the motive power. A flying machine, says Professor Bell, in the Encyclopedia Britannica (you will not question the authority of the Encyclopedia Britannica?) a flying machine should be * a compact, moderately heavy, and powerful structure, There, you see, the bishop was right." " Yours was deuced powerful," remarked Barton. " I did not expect to see two limbs of you left together." 4 * It is pcv/erful, or rather it was," answered Winter, with a heavy sigh; * but it s all to do over again all to do over again! Yet it was a noble specimen. * The passive surface was reduced to a minimum, as the learned author in the Encyclopedia recom- Bcends." <; By Jove! the passive surf ace was jolly near reduced to a mummy. You were the passive surface, as far as I could see." " Don t laugh at me, please, sir, after you ve been so kind. All the rest laugh at me. You can t think what a pleasure it ha* been to talk to a scholar," and there was a new flush on the poor fellow s cheek, and something watery in his eyes. * I beg your pardon, my dear sir." cried Barton, greatly ashamed of himself. " Pray go on. The subject is entirely new to me. I had not been aware that there were any serious Diodern authorities in favor of the success of this kind of expert ment." " Thank you, sir," said Winter, much encouraged, and taking Barton s hand in his own battered claw; " thank you. But why should he run only to modern authorities ? All great inven tions, all great ideas, have been present to men s minds and faopt3b from the beginning of civilization. Did not Ernpedoeiea THE MARK OF CAIN. ft forestall Mr. Darwin, and hit out, at a stroke, the hypothesis of natural selection?" "Well, he did make a shot at it," admitted Barton, who re membered as much as that from " the old coaching days," and college lectures at St. Gatien s. "Well, what do we find? As soon as we get a whisper of civilization in Greece, we find Daedalus successful in flying. The pragmatic interpreters pretend that the fable does but point i to the discovery of sails for ships; but I put it to you, is that probable?" . . " Obvious bosh," said Barton. "And the meteorological mythologists, sir, they maintain that Daedalus is only the lightning flying in the breast of the storm!" \ ... " There s nothing those fellows won t say," replied Barton. " I m glad you are with me, sir. In Daedalus 7 see either a record of a successful attempt at artificial flight, or at the very least, the expression of an aspiration as old as culture. You wouldn t make Daedalus the evening clouds accompanying Minos, the sun, to his setting in Sicily, in the west ?" added Win ter, anxiously. " I never heard of such nonsense," said Barton. " Sir Frederick Leighton, the President of the Royal Academy, is with me, sir, if I may judge by his picture of Daedalus." " Every sensible man must be with you," answered Barton. " Well, sir, I won t detain you with other famous flyers of an tiquity, such as Abaris, mounted on an arrow, as described by Herodotus. Doubtless the arrow was a flying machine, a nov elty to the ignorant Scythians." " It must have been, indeed." " Then there was the Greek who flew before Nero in the circus; but he, I admit, had a bad fall, as Seutonius recounts. That character of Lucian s, who employed an eagle s wing and a vulture s in his flight, I take to be a mere figment of the satir ist s imagination. But what do you make of Simon Magus? He, I cannot doubt, had invented a machine in which, like my self, he made use of steam or naphtha. This may be gathered * from Arnobius, our earliest authority. He mentions expressly ] currum Simonis Magi et quadrigas igneas, the chariot of Simon \ Magus and his vehicles of flame clearly the naphtha is alluded to which vanished into air at the word of the Apostle Peter. The latter circumstances being miraculous, I take leave to doubt; but certainly Simon Magus had overcome the difficulties of aerial navigation. But, though Petrus Crinitus rejects the tradition as fabulous, I am prepared to believe that Simon Magus actually flew from the Capitol to the Aventine!" ""Hie world knows nothing of its greatest men, " quoted Barton. " Simon Magus has been the riotim, sir, of theological acri- monr, his character blackened, hia flying machine impugned, or ascribed, as by the credulous Arnobius, to diabolical arts. In the dark ages, naturally, the science of artificial flight was either neglected or practiced in secret, through fear of persecution. 02 THE MARK Of CAIN. Busbequins speaks of a Turk at Constantinople who attempted something in this way; but he (the Turk, I mean) was un tram meled by ecclesiastical pre j uclice. But why should we tarry in the past ? Have we not Mr. Proctor with us, both in Knowledge and the CornhUl ? Does not the pre-eminent authority, Professor Pettigrew Bell, himself declare, with the weight, too, of the Encyclopedia Britannica, that the number of successful flying models is considerable. It is not too much to expect/ he goes on, * that the problem of artificial flight will be actually solved, or at least much simplified. What less can we expect, as he observes, in the land of Watt and Stephenson, when the construc tion of flying machines has been taken up in earnest by practical men? " f " We may, indeed," said Barton, " hope for the best when persons of your learning and ingenuity devote their efforts to j the cause." " As to my learning, you flatter me," said Winter. " I am nc scholar; but an enthusiast will study the history of his subject Did I remark that the great Dr. Johnson, in these matters s< skeptical, admits (in a romance, it is true) the possibility of ar >y valley expected t< all men were equalh* equal alacrity tea<?> them all to fly. " And you will keep your secret, like Dr. Johnson s artist ? To you I do not mind revealing this much. The vans CA wings of my machine describe elliptic figures of eight- " I ve seen them do that," said Barton. * Like the wings of birds; and have the same forward an& downward stroke, by a direct piston action. The impetus is given, after the descent in the air which I affected by starting from a height of six feet only by a combination of heated naphtha and of india rubber under torsion. By steam alone, in 1842, Philips made a model of a flying-machine soar across two fields, Penaud s machine, relying only on india rubber under torsion, flies for some fifty yards. What a model can do, as Bishop Wilkins well observes, a properly weighted and propor tioned flying-machine, capable of carrying a man, can do also." " But yours, when I first had the pleasure of meeting you, was not carrying you at all." * Something had gone wrong with the mechanism," answered Winter, sighing. " It is always so. An inventor has many things to contend against. Remember Arkwright, and how he was puzzled hopelessly by that trifling error in the thickness of the valves in his spinning machine. He had to give half his profits to Strutt, the local blacksmith, before Strutt would tell him that he had only to chalk his valves! The thickness of a coating of chalk made all the difference. Some trifle like that, depend on it, interfered with my machine. You see, I am obliged to make my experiments at night, and in the dark, for fear of being discovered and anticipated. I have been on tke verge nay, over the verge of success. No imaginable inven tion, Bishop Wilkins says, could prove of greater benefit to THE MARK OF CAIN. 9$ the world, or greater glory to the author. A few weeks ago that glory was mine!" * Why a few weeks ago ?" asked Barton. * Was your machine more advanced then than when I met you ?" " I cannot explain what had happened to check its motion, * said Winter, wearily; " but a few weeks ao my machine acted, and I may say that I knew the sensations of a bird on the wing." " Do you mean that you actually fleiv f " For a very short distance, I did indeed, sir!" Barton looked at him curiously; two currents of thought one wild and credulous, the other practical and professional surged and met in his brain. The professional current proved the stronger for the moment. "Good-night," he said. "You are tiring and over-exciting yourself. I will call again soon." He did call again, and Winter told him a tale which will be lepeated in its proper place. CHAPTER XTV. FOUND. * AH precious things discovered late To those that seek them issue forth; For Love, in sequel, works with Fate, And draws the veil from hidden worth." The Sleeping Beauty. THAT Margaret and Barton were losing their hearts to each *ther could not, of course, escape the keen eye of Mrs. St. John Deloraine. She noticed that Margaret, though perfectly restored io health, and lacking only the clear brown over the rose of her cheeks, was by no means so light of heart as in the very earliest days of her recovery. Love makes men and women poor com pany, and, to speak plainly, takes the fun out of them. Mar garet was absent-minded, given to long intervals of silence, a bad listener all of them things hatef uJ to Mrs. St. John DeJo- raine, but pardoned, in this instance, by the benevolent lady. Margaret was apt to blush without apparent cause, to start when a knock came to the door, to leave the room hurriedly, and need to be sought and brought back, when Barton called, Nor was Barton himself such good company as he had been. His man ner was uncertain and constrained; his visits began to be paid at longer intervals; he seemed to have little to say, or talked ia fits and starts; and yet he did not know how to go away. Persons much less clear-sighted than Mrs. St. John Deloraine could have interpreted, without difficulty, this awkward posi tion of affairs. Now, like most women of her kindly and impulsive character (when it has not been refined away into nothing by social hy pocrisies), Mrs. St. John Deloraine was a perfectly reckless match-maker. She believed in love with her whole heart; it was a joy to mark the beginnings of inclination in two young and she simply reveled in an "engagement." All con* 94 THE MARK OF CAIN. iderations of economy, prudence, and foresight melted away before the ardor of her enthusiasm; to fall in love first, to get en gaged next, and to be married as soon as possible afterward, without regard to consequences of any kind, were, in this lady t mind, heroic actions, and almost the whole duty of men and women. In her position, and with her opportunities, she soon knew all that was to be known about Margaret s affections, and also abot Barton s. " He s as much in love with you as a man can be, my dear," rshe said to Margaret. " Not worthy of him? Your past a bar rier between you and him? Nonsense, Daisy; that is his affair, /know you are as good a girl as ever lived. Your father was poor, no doubt, and that wretched Mr. Cranley yes, he was a wretch had a spite against you. I don t know why, and you won t help me to guess. But Mr. Barton is too much of a man to let that kind of thing disturb him, I m sure. You are afraid of something, Margaret. Your nerves have been unstrung. I m sure I don t wonder at it. I know what it is to lose one s nerve. I could no more drive now, as I used to do, or go at the fences I used to think nothing of! But once you are married to a man like Mr. Barton, who is there can frighten you ? And as to being poor," and Mrs. St. John Deloraine explained her gen* erous views as to arrangements on her part, which would lea; Margaret far from portionless. Then Margaret would cry a little, and lay her head on her friend s shoulder, and the friend would shed some natural tears for company; and they would have tea, and Barton would call, and look a great deal at his boots, and fidget with his hat. "I ve no patience with you, Mr. Barton," said Mrs. St. John Deloraine at last, when she had so maneuvered as to have some private conversation with him, and Barton had unpacked his lieart. " I ve no patience with you. Why, where is your cour age? She has a history ? She s been persecuted. Well, where s jour chivalry ? Why don t you try your fortune ? There never was a better girl, nor a pleasanter companion when she s not when she s not disturbed by the nervousness of an undecided young man. If you don t take your courage in both hands, I will carry Margaret off on a yachting voyage to the Solomon Islands, or Jericho, or somewhere. Look here, I am going to take her for a drive in Battersea Park; it is handy, and looking very pretty, and as lonely as Tadmor in the wilderness. We will get out and saunter among the ponds. I shall be tired and sit down; you will show Margaret the marvels of natural history in the other pond, and when you comeback you will both have made up your minds!" With this highly transparent ruse Barton expressed his con tent. The carriage was sent for, and in less than half an hour Barton and Margaret were standing alone, remote, isolated from the hum of men, looking at a pond where some water-hens were diving, while a fish (" coarse," but not uninteresting) occasion ally flopped on the surface. The trees it waa the last week of THE MARK OF CAIN. 9 Kay were in the earliest freshness of their foliage; the nix, for a wonder, was warm and still. "How quiet and pretty it is!" said Margaret, "Who would think we were in London ?" Barton said nothing. Like the French parrot, mentioned by Sir Walter Scott, he thought the more. " Miss Burnsidel" he exclaimed suddenly, " we have known Bach other now for some time." This was a self-evident proposition; but Margaret felt what was coming, and trembled. She turned for a moment, pretend ing to watch the movements of one of the water-fowls. In wardly she was nerving herself to faco the hard part of her duty, and to remind Barton of the mystery in her life. " Yes," she said at last; " we have known each other for some time, and yet you know nothing about me." With these words she lifted her eyes and looked him straight in the face. There seemed a certain pride and nobility in her he had not seen before, though her beautiful brown eyes were troubled, and there was a mark of pain on her brow. What was she going to tell him?" Barton felt his courage come back to him. " I know one thing about you, and that is enough for me. I know I love you!" he said. Margaret, can t you care for me a little ? Don t tell me anything you think you should not say. I m not curious." Margaret turned back again to her inspection of the pOnd and its inmates, grasping the iron railing in front of her and gazing down into the waters, so that he could not see her face. " No," she said at last, in a very low voice; "it would not be fair." Then, after another pause, " There is some one " she murmured, and stopped. This was the last thing Barton had expected. If she did not care for him, he fancied she cared for nobody. " If you like some one better " he was beginning. But I don t like him at all," interrupted Margaret. " He was very kind, but " " Then can t you like me 9" asked Barton; and by this time he was very near her, and was looking down into her face, as curi ously as she was still studying the nafraral history of Battersea Ponds. " Perhaps I should not; it is so difficult to know, * mummrecl Margaret. And yet her rosy confusion, and beautiful lowered eyes, tender and ashamed, proved that she knew very well. Love is not always so blind but that Barton saw his opportunity, and was assured that she had surrendered. And he prepared, a conqueror, to march in with all the honors and rewards of war; for the place was lonely, and a covenant is no covenant until it is sealed. But when he would have kissed her, Margaret disengaged her- eelf gently, with a little sigh, and returned to tha stioug defensi ble position by the iron railings. ** I must tell you about myself," she said. " 1 have promi^oal 90 THE MARK OF CAIN: never to tell, but I must. I have been so tossec? about, and at weak, and so many things have happened." And she sighed. However impassioned a lover may be, he does naturally prefer that there should be no mystery p>bout her he adores. Barton had convinced himself (aided by the eloquence and reposing on. the feminine judgment of Mrs. St. John Deloraine) that Marga ret could have nothing that was wrong to conceal. He could not look at her frank eyes and kind face and suspect her; thongh, to any one but a lover, these natural advantages are no argu ment. He, therefore, prepared to gratify an extreme curiosity, and, by way of comforting and aiding Margaret, was on the point of assuming an affectionate attitude. But she moved ja little away, and, still turning toward the friendly ponds, began her story: ** The person the gentleman whom I was thinking of was a friend of my father s, who, at one time, wanted him" here Margaret paused" wanted me to to be his wife some day. * The rapid imagination of Barton conjured up the figure of a well- to-do local pawnbroker, or captain of a trading vessel, as the selected spouse of Margaret. He fumed at the picture in his fancy. " I didn t like him much, though he certainly was very kind. His name but perhaps I should not mention his name?" "Never mind, said Barton. "I dare say I never heard of him." " But I should tell you, first of all, that my own name is not that which you and Mrs. St. John Deloraine know me by. I had often intended to tell her; but I have become so frightened lately, and it seemed so mean to be living with her under a false name. But to speak of it brought so many terrible things back to mind." " Dear Margaret," Barton whimpered, taking her hand. They were both standing, at this moment, with their backs to the patnway, and an observer might have thought that they were greatly interested in the water-fowl. " My name is not Burnside," Margaret went on, glancing over her shoulder across the gardens and toward the river; "my name is " "Daisy Shields!" cried a clear voice. "Daisy, you re found at last, and I ve found you! How glad Miss Marlett will be!" But by this time the astonished Barton beheld Margaret in the impassioned embrace of a very pretty and highly -excited young lady; while Mrs. St. John Deloraine, who was with her, gazed with amazement in her eyes. " Oh, my dear!" Miss Harman (for it was that enthusiast) hur ried on, in a pleasant flew of talk, like a brook, with pleasant interruptions. " Oh, my dear! I was walking in the park with my maid, and I met Mrs. St. John Deloraine, and she said she had lost her friends, and I came to help her to look for them; and I ve found you ! It s like Stanley finding Livingstone. * How I Found Daisy. I ll write a book about it. And where have you been hiding yourself ? None of the girls evss knew THE MARK OF CAIN. 7 tmytlilng was the matter only Miss Marlett and me! And Fve ieft, for good; and she and I are quite friends, and I m to be pre sented next drawing-room." While this address (which, at least, proved that Margaret had acquaintances in the highest circles) was being poured forth, Mrs. St. John Delorains and Barton were observing all with un- f signed astonishment and concern. They both perceived that the mystery of Margaret s past was about to be dispelled, or rather, for Barton, it already was dis pelled. The names of Shields and Miss Marlett had told him all that lie needed to know. But he would rather have heard the whole story from his lady s lips; and Mrs. St. John Deloraine was mentally accusing Janey Harman of having interrupted a " proposal," and spoiled a darling scheme. It was therefore with a certain most unfamiliar sharpness that Mrs. St. John Deloraine, observing that the day was clouded over, requested Margaret to return to the carriage. And as Miss Harman seems to have a great deal to say to you, Margaret," added the philanthropic lady, "you two had better walk on as fast as you can; for you must be very careful not to catch cold! I see Miss Harman s maid waiting for her in the distance there. And you and I, Mr. Barton, if you will give me your arm, will follow slower; I m not a good walker." " Now" said Barton s companion, eagerly, when Margaret and Janey, about three yards in advance, might be conventionally regarded as beyond earshot "Now, Mr. Barton, am I to con gratulate you?" Barton gave a little shamefaced laugh, uneasily. " I don t know I hope so I m not sure," " Oh, you re not satisfactory not at all satisfactory. Are you still shilly-shallying ? What is the matter with young people ?" cried the veteran of twenty-nine. "Or was it that wretched Janey, rushing in, like a cow in a conservatory ? She s a regu lar schoolgirl!" " It isn t that exactly, or at least that s not all. I hope I 1 think she does care for me, or will care for me, a little. * 4 " Oh, bother!" said Mrs. St. John Deloraine. She would not, i for all the world, reveal the secrets of the confessional, and tell Barton what she knew of the state of Margaret s heart. But she I was highly provoked, and showed it in her manners, at no time i_ applauded for their repose. " The fact is," Barton admitted, " that I m so taken by sur prise I hardly know where I am! I do think, if I may say so without seeming conceited, that I have every reason to be happy. But just as she was beginning to tell me about herself, that young lady, who seems to have known her at school, rushed in and explained the whole mystery." " Well," said Mrs. St. John Deloraine, turning a little pale ant! looking anxiously at Barton, " was it anything so very dreadful T "She called her Daisy Shields, said Barton. "Well, suppose she didl I always fancied, after what hap- at the Bunhouse, that that dreadful Mr. Cranley sent Let IB THE MARK OF CAIN. to me under a false name. It was not her fault. The question f% What was her reason for keeping her real name concealed ?" That s what I m coming to," said Barton. " I hare a friend. A Mr. Maitland." " Mr. Maitland of St. Gatien sr asked the widow. * Yes." &" /know him." " Yes, I have often heard him speak of you," said Barton. * Well, he had a protegee a kind of ward, to tell a long story in few words a girl whom he had educated, and whom he was under some kind of promise to her father to marry. The fa ther died suddenly; the girl disappeared mysteriously from school at the same moment; and Maitland, after many efforts, has never been able to find out anything about her. INOW, this girl s name, this girl in whom my friend was interested, was Margaret Shields. That is the very name by which your friend, Miss Harman, called Margaret. So, you see, even if I am right, and if* she does care for me, what a dreadful position I am in I I want to marry the girl to whom my friend is, more or less, en gaged! My friend, after doing his best to find his ward, and after really suffering a great deal of anxiety and annoyance, is living abroad. What am I to say to him ?" " Mr. Barton," said Mrs. St. John Deloraine, " perhaps you alarm yourself too much. I think " here she dropped her voice a little "I think I don t think Mr. Maitland s heart is very deeply concerned about Miss Shields. I may be wrong, but i know him pretty well" she gave a little nervous laugh " and I don t think he s in love with Margaret." By the time she reached the end of this interrupted and tenta tive discourse, Mrs. St. John Deloraine was blushing like a rose in June. Barton felt an enormous weight lifted from his heart, and a flood of welcome light j>oured into hia mind. The two philan thropists were in love with each other! " He s an awfully good fellow, Maitland," he replied. " But you are right; I m sure you are right. You must know. He is not in love with Margaret." Mrs. St. John Deloraine seemed not displeased at the tribute to Maitland s unobtrusive virtues, and replied: * But he will be very glad to hear that she is found at last, and quite safe; and I ll write to him myself, this very evening. I heard from him about a charity, you know a few days ago, and I have hi3 address." By this time they had reached the carriage. Janey, with many embraces, tore herself from Margaret, and went off with her attendant; while Mrs. St. John Deloraine, with a beaming face, gave the coachman the order " Home," "We shall see you to-morrow at luncheon," she cried to Barton; and no offer of hospitality had ever been more welcome. He began to walk home, turning over his discoveries in his thoughts, when he suddenly came to a dead halt. " Bv George!" he said out loud; " I ll go back and have it ou4 with her at once. I ve had enough of this shilly-shally." THE MARK OF CAIN. " 90>; Ke turned and strode off in the direction of Cheyne Walk* In a few minutes he was standing at the familiar door. " Will you ask Miss Miss Burnside if she can see me for one : moment? he caid to the servant. "I have forgotten some thing she wished me to do for her," he added in a mumble. Then he was taken ifcto the boudoir, and presently Margaret , appeared, still in her bonnet and furs. " I couldn t help coming back, Margaret," he said, as soon as ehe entered the room. * I want to tell you that it is all right,, j that you needn t think I mean, that I know all about it, and ; that there is nothing, nothing to prevent us I mean, Margaret, , if you really care for me " Then he came to a dead stop. I It was not a very easy situation. Barton could not exactly : . Bay to Margaret, " My dear girl, you need not worry yourself ! about Maitland. He does not care a pin for you; he ll be de lighted at being, released. He is in love with Mrs. St. Joha Delcraine." That would have been a statement both adequate and explicit; but it could not have been absolutely flattering to Margaret, and it would have been exceedingly unfair to her hostess. The girl came forward to the table, and stood with her hand on it, looking at Barton. She did not help him out in any way; her attitude was safe, but embarrassing. Re made a charge, as it were, at the position a random, des perate charge. " Margaret, can you trust me?" he asked. She merely put out her hand, which he seized. " Well, then, believe me when I tell you that I know every* thing about your doubts; that I know more than any one else can do; and that there is nothing to prevent us from being happy, More than that, if you will only agree to make me happy, you will make every one else happy too. Can you take it on trust ? Can t you believe ine?" Margaret said nothing; but ehe hid her face on Barton s shoulder. She did believe him. The position was carried! ; CHAPTER XY. THE MASK OF CAIN. NEXT morning Barton entered his Bitting- room in very high Spirits, and took up his letters. He had written to Maitland the ] night before, saying little but, " Come home at once. Margaret | is found. She is going to be my wife. You can t come too j quickly, if you wish to hear of something very much to your ad vantage." A load was off his mind, and he felt as Romeo did just before the bad news about Juliet reached him. In this buoyant disposition, Barton opened his letters. The first was in a hand he knew very well that of a man who had been his fellow-student in Paris and Vienna, and who was now a prosperous young physician. The epistle ran thus: j " DEAR BABTON, I m off to the west of Ireland, for a fort night People are pretty fit, as the season has not run f ax* j 100 THE MARK OF OAIW. Most of my patients have not yet systematically over-eaten then*,, selves. I want you to do something for me. Martin & Wright, the lawyers, have a queer little bit of medical jurisprudence, about which young Wright, who was at Oriel in our time, asksd my opinion. I recommended him to see you, as it is more in your line; and my line will presently be attached to that emi nent general practitioner, The Blue Doctor. May he prosper with ths Galway salmon! Thine, " ALFHSD FRANKS." " Lucky beggar!" thought Barton to himself, but he was too happy to envy even a man who had a fortnight of salmon-fish ing before him. The next letter he opened was in a blue envelope, with the stamD of Messrs. Martin & Wright. The brief and formal note whicli it contained requested Dr. Barton to call, that very day if possible, at the chambers of the respectable firm, on " business of great importance. * What in the world can they want?" thought Barton. "No* body can have left me any money. Besides, Franks says it is a point in medical jurisprudence. That sounds attractive, I ll ga down after breakfast." He walked along the sunny embankment, and that bright prospect of houses, trees, and ships have never seemed so beau tiful. In an hour he was in Lincoln s Inn Fields, and had shaken hands with young Wright, whom he knew; had been introduced to old Wright, a somewhat stately man of business, and had taken his seat in the? chair sacred to clients. " Dr. Barton," said old Mr. Wright, solemnly, "you are, I think, the author of this book ?" * He handed to Barton a copy of his own volume, in its gray paper cover, "Les Tatouages Etude Medico-Legale." " Certainly," said Barton. " I wrote it when I was in Paris. I had plenty of chances of studing tattooing in the military hospitals." " I have not read it myself," said old Mr. Wright, " because I am not acquainted with the French language; but my son tells me it is a work of great learning." Barton could only bow and mutter that ho was glad Mr. Wright liked it. Why he should like it, or what the old gentle* man wanted, he could not even imagine. " We are at present engaged in a very curious case, Dr. Bar ton," went on the lawyer, "in which we think your:;" special studies may assist us. The position is this: Nearly eight months afjo a client of ours died, a Mr. Richard Johnson, of Linkheaton, in the north. You must excuse ine if I seem to be troubling you with a long story ?" Barton mentioned that he was delighted, and added, " Not at all," in the vague modern dialect. "This Mr. Richard Johnson, then, was a somewhat singular character. He was what is called a statesman in the north. He had a small property of about four hundred acres, on the marches, as they say, or hoarders of the Earl of Birkenha^f & THE MARK OF CAIN. 101 lands. Here he lived almost alone, and in a very quiet war. There was not even a village near him, and there were few per- irons of his own position in life, because his little place was al most embedded, if I may say so, in Lord Birkenhead s country, which is pastoral. You are with me, so f ai* ?" " Perfectly," said Barton. . ; ; ",.* "This Mr. Johnson, then, lived quite afon ef with a*nbld hcfas^ keeper, dead since his decease, and with*or,e snn,<cal*e,d .Richer, ?,- like himself. The young man was of anaflvehtuHfis .chai^iotcf, a ne r er-do-weel in fact; and abou t twenty years J ago he left Link- heat-on, after a violent quarrel with his father. It was under stood that he had run away to sea. Two years later he returned ; there was another quarrel, and the old man turned him out, vowing that he would never forgive him. But, not long after that, a very rich deposit of coal a very lich deposit/ said Mr. Wright, with the air of a man tasting most excellent claret- " was discovered on this very estate of Linkheaton. Old John son, without much exeition on his part, and simply through th* payment of royalties by the company that worked the coal, be came exceedingly opulent, in what you call most affluent cir* cunistances." Here Mr. Wright paused, as if to see whether Barton was be ginning to understand the point of the narrative, which, it i* needless to remark, he was not. There is no marked connection between coal mines, however lucrative, and "Les Tatouages, Etude Medico-Legale." " In spite of his wealth, Mr. Johnson in no way changed his fcabits. He invested his money carefully, under our advice, and he became, as I said, an extremely warm man. But he con tinued to live in the old farm-house, and did not, in any way, court society. To tell the truth, except Lord Birkenhead, who is our client, I never knew any one who was at all intimate with the old man. Lord Birkenhead had a respect for him as a neighbor and a person of the old-fashioned type. Yes," Mr. Wright added, seeing that his son was going to speak, " and, as you were about to say, Tom, they were brought together by a common misfortune. Like old Mr. Johnson, his lordship has a son who is very, very unsatisfactory. His lordship has not seen the Honorable Mr. Thomas Cranley for many years: and in that lonely country the two boys had been companions in wild amusements, long before. He is vei*y unsatisfactory, the Hon- : orable Thomas Cranley;" and Mr. Wright sighed heavily, in. sympathy with a client so noble and so afflicted. , "I know the beast," said Barton, without reflecting. Mr. Wright looked at him in amazement and horror. " Th$ beast! 1 A son of Lord Birkenhead s called " The beast!" "To return to our case, Dr. Barton," he went on severely, with some stress laid on the doctor. " Mr. Johnson died, leav ing, by a will made on his death-bed, all that he possessed to hi-* on Richard, 01, in case of his decease, to the heirs of his bod;/ Awfully begotten. From that day to this we have hunted liere for the man. We have traced him all over tin? we have heard of him in Australia, Burmah, Guiana* 10$ THE MARK OF CAIN. Smyrna, but at Smyrna we lost sight of him. This m en t," said the old gentleman, taking up the outside sheet of the Times, and folding it so as to bring the second column into view, " remained for more than seven months unanswered, or only answered by impostors and idiots." He tapped isis fkigej on the place as he handed the paper to Barton, who read aloud: r, If Richard Johnson, of Linkheaton, Durham, last heard of at Smyrna in 1875, will apply to Messrs. Martin & Wright, Lincoln s Inn Fields, he will hear of spmethrng very greatly to his advantage. His father died, forgiving him. A reward of 1000 will be paid to any one producing Richard John- eon, or proving his decease." " As a mixture of business with the, home affections/* said old Mr. Wright proudly (for the advertisement was of his own com position), "1 think that leaves little to be desired." "It is admirable," said Barton "admirable; bu& oaay V ask " "Where the tattooing comes in?" said Mr. Wright, J: I am just approaching that. The only person from whom we re ceived any reliable information about Richard Johnson waa an old shipmate of his, a wandering, adventurous character, now> I believe, in Paraguay, where we cannot readily communicate with him. According to his account, Johnson was an ordinary- seafaring man, tanned, and wearing a black beard, but easily to be recognized for an excellent reason. He was tattooed almost all over his whole fcoc?7/." Barton nearly leaped out of his chair, the client s chair, so eudden a light flashed on him. " What is the matter, Dr. Barton! I thought I should In wrest you; but you seem quite excited." " I really beg your pardon," said Barton. " It was automatic, I think; besides, I am extremely interested in tattooing/ 9 " Then, sir, it is a pity you could not have seen Johnson . He appears, from what our informant tells us, to have been a most remarkable specimen. He had been tattooed by Australia* blacks, bv Burmese, by Arabs, and in a peculiar blue tint and to a particular pattern, by the Dyacks of Borneo. We havo here a rough chart, drawn by our informant, of liis principal decora tions." Here the lawyer solemnly unrolled a great sheet of drawing* Eaper, on which was rudely outlined the naked figure of a man, lied up, on the breast, thighs, and arms, with ornamental d- eigns. The guess which made Barton leap up had not been mistaken? he recognized the tattooings he liad seen on the dead body of Dicky Shields, This confirmation of what he had conjectured, however, did not draw any exclamation or mark of excitement from Barton, who was now en his guard. "This is highly interesting," he said, as he examined th* diagram; " and I* am sure, Mr. Wright, that it should not t* THE MARK Of C*SN. 103 dilftcuH. to recognize a claimant with suck remarkable peculiari ties." " No, sir; it is easy enough, and we have been able to dismiss scores of sham Richard Johnsons, But one man presented him self the day before yesterday a rough sailor fellow, who went straight to the point; asked if the man we wanted had any private marks; said he knew what they were, and showed us his wrist, which exactly, as far as we could verify the design, cor* respOJGcEed to that drawing." " "Well," asked Barton, controlling his excitement by a great effort, * what did you do with him?" " We said to him that it would be necessary to take the advisa of an expert before we could make any movement; and, though he told us things about old Johnson and Linkheaton, which ife seemed almost impossible that any one but the right man could have known, we put him off till we had eeen you, and could make an appointment for you to examine the tattooings. They must fee dealt with first, before any other identification." "I grapposo you have made some other necessary inquiries? Did he say why he was so late in answering the advertisement? It has been out for several months." " Yee. and that is rather in his favor," said Mr. Wright. " If he had been an impostor on the lookout he would probably have come to us long ago. But he has just returned from the Cape, where fee had been out of the way of newspapers, and he did not see the advertisement till he came across it three or four days ago. * " Very well," said Barton. "Make an appointment with the man for any time to-morrow, and I will be with you." As fee eaid this hs looked very hard and significantly at the younger Mr. Wright. * \erygood, sir; thank you. Shall we say at noon to-mor row?* " With pleasure," answered Barton, still with his eye on the younger partner. He iben said good-bye, and was joined, as he had hoped, in the outer office by young Wright. " Yon had something to say to me?" asked the junior member ef the firm. "Several things," said Barton, smiling. "And first, would you mind finding out whether the coast is clear whether any one is watching for me?" * Watching for you! What do you mean ?* * J*ist take a look round the square, and tell me whether any UBpickms character is about." Yc&ng Wright, much puzzled, put on his hat, and stood light ing a cigarette on the outer steps. ** Net a soul in sight but lawyers clerks," he reported. " Very well; just tell vour father that, as it id a fine you te taking a turn with me." Barton s friend did as he wished, and presently the pait had 104 THE MARK OF " Til do exactly as you suggest, and explain to my father.* enid the young lawyer as they separated. "Thanks; it is so much easier for you to explain than fora stranger like myself," said Barton, and strolled westward by way of Co vent Garden. At the noted establishment of Messrs. Aminadab, theatrical costumers, Barton stopped, went in, was engaged some tima with the Messrs. Aminadab, and finally had a cab called for him, and drove home with a pretty bulky parcel. * * * ;*; * * At five minutes past twelve on the following day, a tall, burly, mahogany-colored mariner, attired, for the occasion, in a frock- i coat and hat, appeared in Lincoln s Inn Fields. He seemed to be * but ill acquainted with those coasts, and mooned about for some minutes before he reached the door of Messrs. Wright. Then lie rang, the door was opened, and he was admitted into the presence of the partners. 1 have come, gentlemen, in answer to your letter," he said with a northern burr, bowing awkwardly, and checking a dis position to salute by touching his forelock. His eyes wandered round the room, where he saw no one but the partners, with whom lie was already acquainted, and a for eign-looking gentleman a gentleman with hay -colored hair, a soft hat, spectacles, and a tow-cplored beard. He had a mild, short-sighted expression, a pasty complexion, and the air of one who smoked too much. " Good-morning, Mr. h ra Mr. Johnson," said old Mr. Wright. " As we told you, sir, we have, as a necessary pre liminary to the inquiry, "requested Professor Lieblein to step in and inspect h m the personal marks of which you spoke. Professor Lieblein, of Bonn, is a great authority on these mat ters author of Die Tattuirung, a very learned work, I am told." Thus introduced, the professor bowed. " Glad to meet you, sir," said the sailor-man gruffly, "or any gentleman as really knows what s what." " You have been a great traveler, sir?" said the learned profes sor, whose Tsutomc accent it is superfluous to reproduce. " You have in many lands traveled? So!" " Yes, sir; I have seen the world." " And you are much tattooed; it is to me very interesting* You have by many races been decorated ?" " Most niggers have had a turn at me, sir!" " How happy you are to have had such experiences! Now, the Burmese ah! have you any little Burmese marks?" " Yes, sir; from the elbow to the shoulder," replied the sea faring man. " Saving your presence, I ll strip to the buff." " The buff J What is that ? Oh, thank you, sir," this was in reply to young Mr. Wright. " The naked body! why, buff! 4 Buff/ the abstract word, the actual stuff, the very wesen of man unclothed. * Buffer. the concrete man, in the buff," ia the flesh; it is sehr interessan-zs- Wkilv the learned professor muttered these metaphysical ana THE MARK OF CAIN. 19* philological reflections, the seaman was stripping himself to th waist. " That s the Burmese style, sir," he said, pointing to his shoul ders and upper n.rin. These limbs were tattooed in a beautiful soft blue; the pattern was a series of diminishing squares, from which long narrow triangles ran down to the elbow- joints. " -Sehr schcn, selt-r schon" exclaimed the delighted professor. * It is very hubsch, very pretty, very well. We cannot now decorate, we Germans, Ach, it is mournful I" and he sighed. ** And now, sir, have you to show me any moko ? A little moko would be very instructive." "Moko? Rather! The Maori pattern, you mean; the Nevr Ecaland dodge ? Just look between my shoulders," and the sea- mpn turned a broad bare back, whereon were designs of curious Irfoluted spirals. " Tiiat is right, that is right," whispered the professor. " MoJw, Qsihlange, serpent-marks, so they call it in their tongue. Better fcto&O, on an European man, have I never seen. You observe," Sse remarked to the elder Mr. Wright, waving his hand as he followed the tattooed lines " you observe the serpentine curves? Very beautiful. " " Extremely interesting," said Mr. Wright, who, being no Anthropologist, seemed nervous and uncomfortable." " Corresponds, too, with the marks in the picture," he added, comparing the sketch of the original Shields with the body of the claimant. " Are you satisfied now, governor?" asked the sailor. " One little moment. Have you on the Red Sea coast been ? Have you been at Suakini ? Have you any Arab markings ?" "Oh, yes; here you are!" and the voyager pointed to bis breast. The professor inspected, with unconcealed delight, some small tattooirigs of irregular form. " It is, it is," he cried, "the wasm, the sharat* the Semitic tribal mark, the mark with which the Arab tribes brand their cattle! Of old time they did tattoo it on their bodies. The learned Herr Professor Robertson Smith, in his lecdle book, do you know what he calls that very mark, niy dear sir?" " Not I," said the sailor; " I m no scholar." " He says it was I do not say lie is right," cried the professor, in a loud voice, pointing a finger at his victim s breast" he , cays it was TEE MARK OF CAIN!" The sailor, beneath his mahogany tan, turned a livid white, j and grasped at a bookcase by which he stood. , " What do you mean?" he cried, through his chattering teeth; " what do you mean with your damned Hebrew-Dutch and your * Sharat or Shart." The Mart was IB old times a tattooed mark. * * * Ip the patriarchal story of Cain * * * the institution of blood revenge y connected with a* mark f which Jehovah appoints to Cain. Can tmf tee anything else than the shart, or tribal mark, which every man bore oa - feie person 1" ROBBUTSOM SMITH, A i/ts/tip in Ancient J.ruWa, p. 215, THE MARK OF CAIN. ot Cain ! The mark s all right! A H*clendowa woman did it in Suakim years ago. Ain t it on that chart of youra ?" * Certainly, good sir; it is," answered the professor. * WhT do you so agitate yourself? The proof is complete P ht> aidecf, etili pointing at the sailor s breast. " Then I ll put on my togs, with your leave; it s aoae so warm!" grumbled the man. He had so far completed his dressing that he was in ka waist coat, and was just looking round for his coat. "Stop!" said the professor. " Hold Mr. Johnson s coat for a *noinent!" This was to young Wright, who laid his hands on the garment in question. "You must be tired, sir," said the professor, in a v-3?y soft voice. " May I offer you a leedle cigarette?" He drew from his pocket a silver cigarette-case, aa<4. In a thoroughly English accent, he went on: " I have waited long to give you back your cigarette-case, which you left at your club, Mr. Thomas Cranley!" The sailor s eye fell on it. He dashed the silver box vsolaotly to the ground, and trampled on it, then he made one rush at his coat. " Hold it! hold it!" cried Barton, laying aside his Teufoak; ac cent " hold it: there s a revolver in the pocket!" But there was no need to struggle for the coat, The sailor had suddenly staggered and fallen, a crumytad but not unconscious mass, on the floor. " Call in the police!" said Barton. " They ll have m . diffi culty in taking him." "This is the man against whom you have the warrant," h went on, as young Wright opened the door and admitted two policemen, " I charge the Honorable Thomas Cranley with murder!" The officers lifted the fallen man. " Let him be," said Barton. " He has collapsed. Lay him on the floor: he s better so. He needs a turn of my profesiaa: his heart s weak. Bring some brandy." Young Wright went for the spirits, while the frightextad old lawyer kept murmuring: " The Honorable Thomas Cranley was always very uaaasiafao- lory!" It had been explained to the old gentleman that an amposfcor would be unmasked, and a criminal arrested; but he had not been informed that the culprit was the son of bis great; client, Lord Birkenhead. Barton picked up the cigarette- case, and as he, for tho firs* time, examined its interior, acme broken glass fell o -Ju and fcrofctecl e& the flow, THE MARK OF CAIN, 107 CHAPTER XVI. THE VERDICT OF FATE. MA.nTA5D did not dally long in the Levant after getting Bar- . ton s letter. He was soon in a position to receive,- in turn, the congratulations which he offered to Margaret and Barton witk un affected delight. Mrs. St. John Deloraine and he understood each other! Maitland, for erhaps the first time in his life, was happy in a thoroughly human old-fashioned way. Meanwhile the preparations for Cranley s trial dragged on. IntereBt, as usual, was fritted away in examinations before tha magistrate?. But at last the day of judgment shone into a court crowded aa courts are when it is the agony of a gentleman that the public has to view. When the prisoner, uttering his last and latest falsehood, pro claimed himself "Not Guilty, his voice was clear and strong enough., though the pallor of his face attested, not only the anx iety of hie situation, but the ill-health which, during his confine ment, had often made it doubtful whether he could survive to plead at the bar of any earthly judgment. The counsel for the crown, opening the case, stated the theory of the prosecution, the case against Cranley. His argument C* here offered in a condensed form: FirBt, counsel explained the position of Johnson, or Shields, as the unconscious heir of great wealth, and set forth his early and late relations with the prisoner, a dishonored and unscrupu. lous outcast of society. The prisoner had been intimately ac quainted with the circumstances of Johnson s early life, with his history and his home. His plan, therefore, was to kill him, and then personate him. A celebrated case, which would be present to the minds of the jury, proved that a most plausible attempt at the personation of a long-missing man might be made by an uneducated impostor, who possessed none of the minute local and personal knowledge of the prisoner. Now, to pen-senate Johnson, a sailor whose body was known to have been inde ibly marked by the tattooing of various barbarous races, ifc . was necessary that the prisoner should be similarly tattooed. \ It would be shown that, with unusual heartlessness, he had per suaded his victim to reproduce on his body the distinctive marks of Johnson, and then had destroyed him with fiendish ingers aity, in the very act of assuming his personality. The very instrument, it might be said, which stamped .Cranley as Jchnaon, slew Johnson himself, and the process which hall- marked the prisoner as the heir of vast wealth stigmatized him with the brand of Cain. The personal marks which seemed to e&t&blipli the claimant s case demonstrated his guilt. He waj krftf.ed by the medical expert brought in to prove his identity, Kid was recognized by that gentleman, Dr. Barton, who would and who had on*) already exposed him in a grav i?# THE STARS:- or CAW. social oftense cheating at cards, "nie same witness fca<I & post-mortem examination of the body of Richard Johnson, ami had then suspected the method by which he had been murdered. The murder itself, according to the theory of the prosecution, TCRS committed in the following manner: Cranley disguised as a sailor (the disguise in which he was finally taken), had been in the habit of meeting Johnson, and being tattooed by him, in a private room of the Hit or Miss tavern, in Chelsea. On the nig hi of February the 7th, he met him there for the last time. He left the tavern late, at nearly twelve o clock, telling the landlady tl tat " his friend," as he called Johnson, had fallen asleep up stairs. On closing the establishment, the landlady, Mrs. Gullick, found the room, an upper one, with dormer windows, openiiig on the roof , empty. She concluded that Johnson or Shi^- b", as she called him had wakened, and left the house by the brick staircase, which led to a side-alley. This way Johnson, who knew the house well, often took on leaving, On the following afternoon, however, the dead body of John son, with no obvious marks of violence on it, was found in a cars belonging to the vestry a cart which, during the night, had remained near a shed on the piece of waste ground adjoining the Hit or Miss. A coroner s jury had taken the view that Johnson, being intoxicated, had strayed into the piece of waste ground (it would be proved that the door in the palisade sur rounding it was open on that night), had lain down in the cart, and died in his sleep of cold and exposure. But evidence derived from a Jater medical examination would establish the presump. tion, which would be confirmed by the testimony of an eye-wit ness, that death had been willfully caused by Cranley, employing a poison which it would be shown he had in his possession a poison which was not swallowed by the victim, but introduced by means of a puncture into the system. The dead man s body had then been removed to a place where his decease would be accounted for as the result of cold and exhaustion. A witness would be put in the box who, by an extraordinary circum stance, had been enabled to see the crime committed by the prisoner, and the body carried away, though, at the moment, he did not understand the meaning of what he saw. As the cir cumstances by which this witness ha d been enabled to behoM what was done at dead of night, in an attic room, locked .-i ri bolted, and not commanded from any neighboring hor.se no* eminence, were exceedingly peculiar, testimony would be brc to show that the witness really had enjoyed the opportunity" of , cl < Tvation which he claimed. On the whole, then, as the prisoner had undeniably persona-ted J linson, and claimed Johnson s property; as he undeniably lirni induced Johnson, unconsciously, to aid him in the task of per- K^nation; as the motive for the murder was plain and obvious; .9 Jobnson, according to the medical evidence, had probab f been murdered; and as an eye-witness professed to have se>a, without comprehending, the* operation by which death, accord ing to the medical theory, was caused, the counsel for the prose cution, believed that the jury could find no other verdict tij.aa THE MARK OF CAIN. 109 that the prisoner had willfully murdered Richard Johnson on the night of February 7th. This opened the case for the crown. It is unnecessary to re capitulate the evidence of all the witnesses who proved, step by step, the statements of the prosecution. First was demonstrated the identity of Shields with Johnson. To do this cost enormous le and expense; but Johnson s old crony, the man who drew the chart of his tattoo marks, was at length discovered in Paraguay, and, by his aid and the testimony he collected, the point was satisfactorily made out. It was, of course, most im- jx -ri,r,jjt in another respect, as establishing Margaret s claims on the Linkheaton estate. The discovery of the body of Johnson (or Shields) in the snow was proved by our old friends Bill and Tommy. The prisoner was recognized by Mrs. Gullick as the sailor gen tleman who had been with Johnson on the last night of his life. In frpite of the difference of dress, and of appearance caused by the absence of beard for Cranley was now clean shaved Mrs. Gullick was positive as to his voice and as to his eyebrows, which were peculiarly black and mobile. Barton, who was called next, and whose evidence excited the keenest interest, identified the prisoner as the man whom he had caused to be arrested in the office of Messrs. Martin & Wright, an 1 whom he had known as Cranley. His medical evidence was given at considerable length, and need not be produced in ful? det."j]. On examining the body of Richard Johnson, his atten tion Lad naturally been directed chiefly to the tattooings. H(* had for some years been deeply interested, as an ethnologist, in the tattooed marks of various races. He had found many curi ous examples on the body of the dead man. Most of the marks were obviously old; but in a very unusual place, generally left blank namely, behind and under the right shciil .ler he had discovered certain markings of an irregular character, clearly produced by an inexperienced hand, and per fectly fresh and recent. They had not healed, and were slightly discolored. They could not, from their position, possibly have been produced by the man himself. Microscopic examinations of these marks, in which the coloring matter was brown, not red or blue, as on the rest of the body, showed that this coloring matter was of a character familiar to the witness as a physi- clogist and scientific traveler. It was the Woorali, or arrow poison of the Macoushi Indians of Guiana. Asked to explain the nature of this poison to the court, the witness said that its " principle " (to use the term of the old medical writers) had not yet been disengaged by science nor had it ever been compounded by Europeans. He had seen it made by the Macoushi Indians, who combined the juice of the "Woorali vine with that of certain bulbous plants, with certain insects, and with the poison-fangs of two serpents, boiling the whole amid tit magical ceremonies, and finally straining off a thick brown paste, which, when perfectly dry, was used to venom the points of their arrows. The poison might be swallowed by a liealthy man without fatal results, - But if introduced into the THE MARK OF CAIN. through a wound, the poison would act almost install < taneously, ap.d defy analysis. Its effect was to sever, as it were, the connection between the nerves and the muscles, and the muscles used in respiration being thus gradually paralyzed, death followed within a brief time, proportionate to the size of the victim, man or animal, and the strength of the dose. Traces, of this poison, then, the witness had found hi the fresh tattoo marks on Johnson s body. The witness now produced the sharp wooden needle, the stem of the leaf of the coucourite palm, which he had found among Johnson s tattooing materials, in the upper chamber of the Hit or Miss. This needle had been, he said, the tip of one of the arrows used for their blow-pipes, by the Macoushi of Guiana. Barton also produce the oriental silver cigarette-case, the in fetrtiment of his cheating at baccarat, which Cranley had left in the ckib on the evening of his detection. He showed that th case had contained a small crystal receptacle, intended to hold opium. This crystal had been broken by Cranley when run dashed down the case, in the office of Martin & Wright. Bui crumbs of the poison " Woorali," or " Ourali " perfectly drj-^ remained in this receptacle. It was thus clear that Cranley,, }iim&63f a great traveler, was possessed of the rare and perilois* drug. The medical evidence having been heard* and confirmed m its general bearing by various experts, and Barton having stood the test of a severe cross-examination, William Winter wap called. There was a flutter in the court, as a pale and partly paralyzed man was borne in on a kind of litter, and accommodated in tha witness-box. "Where were you," asked the counsel for the prosecution,, when the officer had sworn the witness, ".at eleven o clock on the night of February 7th ?" * 3 was on the roof of the Hit or Miss tavern." " Oa which part of the roof?" " On the ledge below the dormer window at the back part of the J)oi2se, facing the waste ground behind the plank fence." " Wi31 you tell the court what you saw while you were in that posit Jon?* "Winter s face was flushed with excitement; but his voice, though thin, was clear as he said: " There was a light streaming through the dormer window be- side which I was lying, and I looked in." What did you see?" " I saw a small room, with a large fire, a table, on wh&ft were bottles and glasses, and two men, one seated, the rthor itandlng." W ould you recognize either man if yon saw him ?" " J recognize the man who was seated, in the prisoner at th* bar; bat at that time he wore a beard." " Toll the court what happened." " The men were facing me. One of them the prisoner wa* to the waist. His breast was tattooed. The other the THE MARK OF CAIN. lit man who stood up was touching him with a needle, which h% applied, again and again, to a saucer on the table." " Could you hear what they said? 1 " I could; for the catch of the lattice window had not caught, and there was a slight chink open." You listened ?" " I could not help it; the scene was so strange. I heard th * man with the needle give a sigh of relief, and say, Thee?, it s j finished, and a pretty job too, though I say it. The other said, \ You have done it beautifully, Dicky; it s a most interesting ) art. Now, just out of curiosity, let me tattoo you a bit.* The | other man laughed, and took off his coat and shirt while the \ other dressed. * There s scarce an inch of me plain,* he said, * but you can try your hand here/ pointing to the lower part of his shoulder." " What happened then?" " They were both standing up now. I saw the prisoner tak out something sharp; his face was deadly pale, but the other could not see that. He began touching him with the sharp ob ject, and kept chaffing all the time. This lasted. I should think, about five minutes, when the face of the man who was being tattooed grew very red. Then he swayed a little, backward and forward, then he stretched out his hands like a blind man, and said, in a strange, thick voice, as if he was paralyzed, * I m very cold; I can t shiver! Then he fell down heavily, and hid body made one or two convulsive movements. That was all. " What did the prisoner do?" "He looked like death. He seized the bottle on the table, poured out half a tumbler-full of the stuff in it, drank it off, and then fell into a chair, and laid his face between his hands,. He appeared ill, or alarmed, but the color came back into his cheek after a third or fourth glass. Then I saw him go to the sleeping man and bend over him, listening apparently to his breathing. Then he shook him several times, as if trying to arouse him. ; But the man lay like a log. Finally, about half-an-hour after what I have described, he opened the door and went out. He soon returned, took up the sleeping man in his arm* his weight seemed lighter than you would expect and carried him out. From the roof I saw him pass the door in the po&jado leading into the waste land, a door which I myself had Isf t open an hour before. It was not light enough to see what he did there; but he soon returned alone and walked away." Such was the sum of Winter s evidence, which, if aocaofead, entirely corroborated Barton s theory of the manner of tha murder. In cross-examination, Winter was asked the Tery natural question: " How did you come to find yourself on the roof of tha Hit or Miss late at night ?" Winter nearly rose from his litter, his worn face flushed, bis JtS TEE MARK OF CAIN. There was a murmur and tiiter through the court, whie!i of course, instantly suppressed. " You flew / What do you mean by saying that you flew?" " I am the inventor of a flying machine, which, for thirty years, I have labored at and striven to bring to perfection. Ufc. that one night, as I was experimenting with it, where I usually did, inside the waste land bordering on the Hit or Miss, the ma chine actually worked, and I was projected in tlie machine, as it were, to some height in the air, coining down with a flutter ing motion, like a falling feather, on the roof of the Hit. or Miss." . > Hero the learned counsel for the defense smiled with infinite expression at the jury, " My lord," said the counsel for the prosecution, noting the smile, and the significant grin with which it wos reflected on the countenances of the twelve good men and true, " I may state that we are prepared to bring forward a large mass of sci entific evidence including a well-known man of science, the editor of Wisdom, a popular journal which takes all knowledge for its province to prove that there is nothing physically impos sible in the facts deposed to by this witness. He is at present suffering, as you see, from a serious accident, caused by the very- machine of which he speaks, and which can be exhibited, with a working model, to the court. :> "It certainly requires corroboration," said the judge, "At present, so far as I am aware, it is contrary to scientific experi ence. You can prove, perhaps, that, in the opinion of experts, these machines have only to take one step further to become practical modes of locomotion. But that is the very step qui coate. Nothing but direct evidence that the step has been taken that a flying machine, on this occasion, actually flew (they ap pear to be styled I olantcs, a non volando) would really lielp your case, and establish the credibility of this witness." " With your lordship s learned remarks, replied the counsel for the crown, " I am not the less ready to agree, because I have an actual eye-witness, who not only saw the flight deposed to by the witness, but reported it to several persons, who are in court, on the night of its occurrence, so that her statement, though dis believed, was the common talk of the neighborhood. " Ah! that is another matter J* said the judge. - Call Eliza Gullick/ said theeounsel. Eliza was called, and in a moment was courtesyicg. with eagerness, but perfect self-possession. After displaying an almost technical appreciation of the nature of an oath, Eliza was asked: " You remember the night of the 7th of February T " I remember it very well, sir." " Why do you remember it so well, Eliza?" Becos such a mort o* things happened, sir, that night- w Will you tell his lordship what happened f\ " Certainly, my lord. Mr. T Toopny gave us a supper, us lumps, my lord, at the Hilarity; for he sjud " THE MARK OF CAIN 113 "Never mind what he said, tell us what happened as you coming home." "Well, sir, it was about eleven o clock at night, and I was turning the lane into the Hit or Miss, when I heard an awful flapping and hissing and whirring, like wings working by steam, in the waste ground at the side of the lane. And as I was listening oh, it frightens me now to think of it oh, sir ;> "Well, don t be alarmed, my good child! What occurred?" "A great thing like a bird, sir, bigger than a man, flew up over my head, higher than the houses. And then did you ever see them Japanese toys, my lord, them things with two feathers and a bit of India-rubber as you twist round and round and toss them up and they fly " "Well, my girl, I have seen them." "Well, just as if it had been one of them things settling: down, the bird s wings turned round and fluttered and shook and at last it all lighted, quite soft like, on the roof of our fcouse", the Hit or Miss. And there I saw it crouching when I went to bed, and looked out o the window, but they would n t none o them believe me, my lord." There was a dead silence in the court as Eliza finished this extraordinary confirmation of Winter s evidence, and wove the net inextricably round the prisoner. Then the silence wsa broken by a soft crashing sound, as if iBomething heavy had dropped a short distance on some hard object. All present turned their eyes from staring at Eliza fto the place whence the sound had come. The prisoner s head had fallen forward on the railing in front of him. One of the officers of the court touched him on the shoulder. He did not stir. They lifted him. He moved not. The faint heart of the man had fluttered with its last pulsation. The evidence had sufficed for him without verdict or sentence. As he had slain his victim, so Fate slew him, painlessly, in a moment! EPILOGUE And what became of them all ? He who does not tell, on the plea that he is "competing with Life," which never knits up a plot, but leaves all the threads loose, acts unfairly. Mrs. St. John Deloraine is now Mrs. Maitland, and the liappy couple are visiting the great colonies, seeking a site for a new settlement of the unemployed, who should lead happy lives under the peaceful sway of happy Mrs. Maitland. Barton and Mrs. Barton have practiced the endowment of re search, in the case of Winter, who has quite recovered from Ms injuries, and still hopes to fly. But he has- never trusted him self again on his machine, which, moreover, has never flown again. Winter, like the alchemist who once made a diamond fcy chance, in Balzac s novel, has never recovered the m THE MARK OF CAIN. moment. But he makes very interesting models, in which Mrs. Jfortcm s little boy begins to take a lively inters^,. Eliza Gullick, declining all offers of advancement unconnected with the British drama, clmg 10 the profession for which, aa Mrs. Guilick maintains, she has a hereditary genius. ** We hear." says the Athenaeum, "that the long promised edition of " Demetrius of Scepsis," by Mr. Bielby, of St. Gatien s, i* in the hands of the delegates of the Clarendon Press." Bast Fiction herself is revolted by the improbability of the that an Oxford don has finished his magnum opus / EXPLICIT HOME USE CIRCULATION DEPARTMENT MAIN LIBRARY This book is due on the last date stamped below. 1-month loans may be renewed by calling 642-3405. 6-month loans may be recharged by bringing books to Circulation Desk. Renewals and recharges may be made 4 days prior to due date. ALL BOOKS ARE SUBJECT TO RECALL 7 DAYS AFTER DATE CHECKED OUT. 1C DEPT APR (R2275S10)476 A-32 General Library University of California Berkeley [Hector jMrs Maid, wif 9 or widow? 966821 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY THE ALL STAR SERIES Charles Garvice Charlotte M. Braeme Bertha M. Clai I Adrian Leroy, Charles Garvice. 2 Farmer Holt s Daughter, Charles Garvice. 3 Royal Signet, Charles Garvice. * The Sculptor s Wooing, Charles Garvice. 5 Woven on Fate s Loom On Her Wedding Morn, C. Garvice. B The Mistress of Court of Regna, Charles Garvice. 7 Claire, Charles Garvice. 3 A Coronet of Shame, Charles Garvice. 9 Love of A Life Time, Charles Garvice. B His Perfect Trust, Charles Garvice. I Her Love So True, Charles Garvice. 2 A Bridge of Love, Between Two Lives, Bertha M. Clay. ) A Golden Dawn, Bertha M. Clay. 1 Her Second Love, Bertha M. Clay. A Squire s Darling, Bertha M. Clay. 5 The Shadow of A Sin, Bertha M. Clay. 7 The Shattered Idol, Bertha M. Clay. 3 Wedded and Parted, Bertha M. 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