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 His glance fell upon her motionless figure stretched upon the 
 carpet. Page 157.
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 (A TALE OF OLD BOSTON.) 
 
 BY 
 
 LUMAN ALLEN, 
 
 AUTHOR OK "LUCIA LASCAR," "PHARAOH'S TREASURE, 
 "HELENE 8AINTE MAUR," ETC. 
 
 CHICAGO: 
 
 DONOHUE, HENtfEBERRY & CO., 
 1892.
 
 COPYKIGHT, 1892. 
 BY 
 
 DONOHUE, HENNEBERRT & CO.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER. PAGE. 
 
 I The Burning of the Armadillo 7 
 
 II. The Fate of Walter Walraven 13 
 
 III. Joel Thorp and the Skipper Disagree 18 
 
 IV. Captain Bardell's Strange Visitor 23 
 
 V. A Reptile Character 28 
 
 VI. Captain Bardell's Courtship 33 
 
 VII. Sequel to a Drive on the Lynn Beach 39 
 
 VIII. The Betrothal 45 
 
 IX. "I'll put a Scorpion in his Nest" 52 
 
 X. The Thorp Family on Copp's Hill 58 
 
 XI. An Oath of Vengeance Sealed 65 
 
 XII. The Marshal's Visit to the Asylum 72 
 
 XIII. Charley Vincent's Story 78 
 
 XIV. The Boyleston Burial-Ground Robbers 83 
 
 XV. The Grave-Diggers at Chestnut Hill 89 
 
 XVI. The Ransom of a Dead Man 94 
 
 XVII. The Abduction of Dane Walraven 99 
 
 XVIII. The Flight of a Suspected Wife 105 
 
 XIX. On the Track of the Kidnappers Ill 
 
 XX. Joel Thorp is Brought to Bay 119 
 
 XXI. Dane Walraven Restored 124 
 
 XXII. Found A Wife and Daughter 130 
 
 XXIII. Doctor Tom Pelham 136 
 
 XXIV Captain Bardell plays no more Whist 142 
 
 XXV. A Deathbed Warning "Beware of Him" 148 
 
 XXVI. he Confession of Silas Thorp 154 
 
 XXVII. The Honeymoon Walraven House 161 
 
 XXVIII. Eugenie St. Leger 167 
 
 XXIX. The Study of a Fascinating Woman 172 
 
 2212582
 
 CONTENTS. 
 CHAPTER. FAGB. 
 
 XXX. Reverend Ebenezer Doolittle Meeting the Enemy .. 178 
 
 XXXI. A Rescue Miss Agnes Blount, a "49er" 183 
 
 XXXII. The Shadow Falls / 189 
 
 XXXIII. The Hut in the "New Forest" A Tempted 
 
 Husband 196 
 
 XXXIV. "To-morrow, He shall be all Mine!" 202 
 
 XXXV. The Fall of Dane Walraven 208 
 
 XXXVI. " Your Mistress is Dead! " 215 
 
 XXXVII. In a Shroud and Cowl" of Gray The Wreck 
 
 of a Tomb The Burning Pyre 221 
 
 XXXVIII.In London: The House in South Lambert. ... 226 
 
 XXXIX. To Dane A Message from the Tomb 232 
 
 XL. Parting of Dane and Eugenie 236 
 
 XLI. Story of Eugenie St. Leger 243 
 
 XLII. Agnes and her " Original Dolly" 249 
 
 XLIII. The Woman in the Shroud of Gray 255 
 
 XLIV. Vesuvius, and the Bay of Naples 262 
 
 XLV. Grand Canal of Venice Silas Thorp's Message 269 
 
 XLVI. The Hiss of a Serpent 274 
 
 XLVI1. Again the Shroud of Gray! 278 
 
 XLVIII. The Box in Number 26 Rue du Mail 283 
 
 XLIX. A Letter of Revelation for Dane Walraven 288 
 
 L. The " Three Candlesticks, " at Auxerre 293 
 
 LI. What Befell Silas Thorp in the Jura Mountains 299 
 
 LII. The Figure on the "Black Rock" 304 
 
 LIII. Look on this Picture, Reader, then Adieu 311
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE BURNING OF THE ARMADILLO 
 
 " Out on the deep there rose upon the night 
 The moan of nether winds let loose; a light 
 'Scaped from some Hadean flood; a voice 
 Proclaiming havoc." The Conspirators. 
 
 On the morning of October 29, 1829, the waters of 
 Boston Harbor were of a milk-white hue; on the same 
 night they were of the hue of blood. 
 
 With the dawn of that disastrous day one of the 
 most terrific storms that ever swept the coast of New 
 England had come rolling down from the north to hold 
 high carnival in Massachusetts Bay. 
 
 From Charles River Bridge, on the north of the 
 city, to the south end as far as India Wharf, the white 
 waves surged and thundered all day, in unison with 
 the diapason of infernal winds, whose shrieks com- 
 mingled with those of the sea-gull passing out of the 
 track of the tempest. 
 
 At the extreme north end of the peninsula, where 
 Lynn and Lyon streets converged to a point, the 
 bounding surf, flung high into the darkling air, resem- 
 bled a perpetual cascade of foam upon the verge of a
 
 8 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 maelstrom. Shipping was rent piecemeal, churned 
 into fragments, buried under the monster waves that 
 hurled themselves upon it with the momentum of fall- 
 ing mountains. 
 
 The city itself was shaken as if in the throes of an 
 earthquake; huge chimneys were thrown down, hoary 
 elms were twisted from their trunks and flung upon 
 the deluged streets, while at intervals a falling wall 
 told the awed citizens that havoc was in their midst, 
 and Death seeking for victims. At noon all traffic on 
 the streets and on the wharves was totally suspended. 
 A sober twilight gave unnatural coloring to every ob- 
 ject upon which it rested, parted and seamed by in- 
 terminable lightnings. 
 
 When at length the night settled down, the north 
 end of the peninsula was apparently deserted except 
 by those who had sought refuge inside the houses. 
 
 Nothing was now heard save the roar of the surf 
 rolling down from the north over the island rocks, 
 and the incessant moan of the wind, as it pursued the 
 leaping waters. 
 
 At an early hour in the morning, a large three-mast 
 vessel was observed far out in the bay, heading la- 
 boriously toward the river entrance. Sometimes it 
 seemed to rise into the air, as if thrown upward by 
 some mountain swell; again it would sink into a trough 
 of the sea until it was almost invisible. Gradually it 
 came nearer and nearer, halting often in its laboring 
 course, but pointing always toward the same goal. 
 
 At length an old seaman's eye made out a name 
 upon its pennant (which was fast becoming tatters) 
 and read to a group of tars
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 9 
 
 "Armadillo, Liverpool." 
 
 
 Late in the afternoon, the ship was driven like a 
 
 paper toy by the force of the hurricane into the mouth 
 of Charles River. No landing could be effected, and 
 no boat put off from the ship that day. Silent and 
 dark, it lay rocking in the arms of the tempest, its 
 pennant torn into ribbons, its dismantled masts broken 
 off, its decks washed by the billows of the hungry sea. 
 
 Night at last crept down upon the ship, hiding it 
 as in the folds of a shroud from the thousands of eyes 
 that all day had watched it from the shelter of houses 
 and wharves. 
 
 Far down in the city a bell was tolling faintly nine 
 slow strokes; but the storm still hurtled through the 
 streets and whipped the sea with the same awful, mo- 
 notonous fury. 
 
 The .blackness of the night at this hour was appall- 
 ing. 
 
 Suddenly, at the spot where the ship was last seen 
 riding the billows, a bright tongue of flame darted up 
 out of the vortex. Smothered by the invading waves, 
 beaten down by the bombarding winds, it disappeared; 
 but the next instant it again leaped forth, a fiery rift 
 in a wall of blackness. 
 
 Then, as the dark hull of the vessel loomed above 
 the curling waves, the faint sound of a bell mingled 
 
 
 
 with the voices of the storm. An ominous boom rolled 
 over the waters another and then the riVer changed 
 its inky hue to a dull red. 
 
 What transpired on the ship during that next hour 
 of terror we learn from the note-book of its captain,
 
 IO DANE WALRAVEN* 
 
 Howard Bardell, the only one of the ship's company, 
 except the ship's carpenter, who was saved. 
 
 Here are the last pages of the skipper's journal: 
 
 All hands were assembled at quarters by the bugle, 
 followed by the pipe 
 
 "Fire brigade, rig pumps!" 
 
 As soon as the men were assembled (and a grue- 
 some lot of faces they brought with them) the guns 
 were run in and the ports lowered. Then I com- 
 manded the men to stand quiet. 
 
 "The fire is in a bad nest, my hearties," I said; "it 
 is in the hold, among the oils, and it will be hard to 
 get at. But you are brave fellows, and British sea- 
 men; and if the Armadillo can be saved, you will save 
 her. " 
 
 Then the poor fellows, who were doomed as surely 
 as was our good ship, sent up a shout that drowned 
 the howl of the wind and the uproar of the waters 
 
 "We'll do it, captain! We'll stand by the old ship, 
 sir!" 
 
 Ah, my heart swelled as though it would crack my 
 ribs, as I looked at the lads. There were tears under 
 my eyelids, too, which the lads didn't see. 
 
 Well, the port watch had been piped to the pumps 
 and the starboard watch had fallen in on the upper 
 deck. In a jiffy, the port watch were at work, and 
 I heard many a groan fiom the men, as they realized 
 how serious.it was; but there was no confusion. 
 
 The hatchways were covered ; and some of the 
 forecastle men were sent to lower canvas screens, so 
 as to stop all draught-holes below.
 
 DANE WALRAVEN II 
 
 In another minute, a part of the starboard watch 
 had the hammocks out, and were sousing the bedding. 
 At this some of the simple lads grumbled a bit; not 
 knowing (as I did, God help them!) that they would 
 sleep that night in a wetter bed below the keel. 
 
 The beds were passed down to the fire, although I 
 knew it was of precious little use. Still, nothing is 
 impossible, at sea; and besides, it is not for the skip- 
 per to rob his crew of hope, or lose it himself. 
 
 So, my voice was cheery, when I gave the next or- 
 ders, if it was a bit hoarse 
 
 "Shorten sail!" 
 
 "Out, boats! " 
 
 What was running in my head at that moment, to 
 move me to give the first of these two orders, I am 
 not able to tell. It was so ludicrous, so absurd, that 
 the lads laughed, and their spirits rose, at the skip- 
 per's sorry joke. For, you see, the masts were stubs, 
 and there was not i"n sight a loose piece of sail big 
 enough to make a shroud for the powder-boy. 
 
 The fire was now all above and below, and the tim- 
 bers were hot and cracker! anon, and the wind, like 
 the breath of ten thousand devils, fanned and coaxed 
 the flames in every part of the ship. So, then, I took 
 the keys of the magazine flooding-cocks, and sent for 
 the gunner. I knew, now, that Davy Jones or Moloch 
 was waiting for us, and I swore to myself that at least 
 we would go down with- sound and whole bodies, and 
 not in pieces. 
 
 In the meantime, I had directed senior marine officer 
 Falmouth to post sentries on the spirit-rooms, store-
 
 12 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 rooms, and quarter-boats. Then I gave the order 
 which the commander of a ship is always willing to 
 leave' to the last 
 
 "Master-at-Arms, release prisoners!" 
 
 Ah, God forgive me, if I sometimes wish I had 
 given that order too late!
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE FATE OF WALTER WALRAVEN 
 
 Now we had but two prisoners in the "Armadillo" 
 when we entered port. And, it being the case that 
 this part of my log has been left unwritten for a very 
 long time, and that since the burning of the ship many 
 strange and some sorrowful things have happened, 
 growing out of that proper and merciful but all the 
 same fatal order to release, prisoners, it behooves me 
 to leave a record of the events that occurred on board 
 concerning those two prisoners, and some others. 
 
 When we sailed from Liverpool, the ship's carpen- 
 ter was laid up in port, and had to be left behind. 
 By chance or contrivance, I know not which, two fel- 
 lows who had been running a barge on Solway Firth, 
 brought letters to me just then from the landlord of 
 the Royal Inn at Carlisle, the old cathedral town in 
 Cumberland, England, giving the information that 
 one was a good carpenter, and the other a good sailor, 
 with njothing known against either of them. The car- 
 penter was named Joel Thorp, and he had with him 
 his son, a fine-looking lad of fourteen, and his daugh- 
 ter, a good-looking lass of sixteen. He himself was 
 an evil-faced fellow, very sullen-mannered and skulk- 
 ing, but to this I paid little attention then. He wanted 
 
 13
 
 14 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 to emigrate to America, and was willing to work his 
 passage and that of his two children. 
 
 The other fellow was as ill-favored as Thorp, and I 
 shall, for reasons that will hereafter appear, give a 
 very particular description of him. He was about five 
 feet eight inches in height, with broad and square 
 shoulders, flat chest and back, heavy jaws, and 
 straight, long chin, a straight and always closed mouth, 
 on which was a perpetual smile like that of a demon's, 
 deep-set black eyes under lids that were always low- 
 ered, as though he feared his evil soul might be seen 
 if fie unveiled, black, straight hair, cut close to a long 
 head. His body was bent forward from the waist in 
 walking, and his step was like that of a panther, 
 quick and gliding. All these details escaped me at 
 the time, but later they were but too clearly impressed 
 upon my sight and memory. The name of this man 
 was James Crouch; and he, too, wanted to emigrate. 
 
 Well, I took them both; and the day they came 
 aboard we sailed out of the Mersey, bound for a port 
 that only two of the ship's company ever reached. 
 
 We had on board a Mr. Walter Walraven and his lit- 
 tle son, Dane, who were coming to Boston to remain, 
 though hailing from Hampshire, in the extreme south 
 of England, where, hard by the most venerable and 
 ancient town of Winchester, was situated Walraven 
 House, the manorial estate of the family for some gen- 
 erations, but which Mr. W. had sold, having lost his 
 beautiful and worthy lady the year before under ex- 
 traordinary and painful circumstances, and rinding too 
 many mournful associations in the vicinity of his
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 15 
 
 English home. I had known him for several years 
 back, having met him and his wife at Greystoke Park, 
 the country seat of my relative, near Penrith, hard by 
 Carlisle, in the south of England, they having been 
 frequent visitors to old Cumberland. It was there, 
 indeed, that his wife met, or was supposed to have 
 met, her death. 
 
 Mr. Walraven was a tall, finely-featured gentleman, 
 of about forty, of a very rare and splendid blonde 
 type, and the lad (who was three years and three 
 days old on the day we entered Boston Harbor) was 
 a wee image of him. He had brought with him a 
 strong and curiously made mahogany box, with a brass 
 handle to carry it by, and bound around the corners 
 with brass, and with double locks. It had been stowed 
 in his state-room, and was quite heavy; so I was not 
 surprised when the second day out he came to me and 
 said: 
 
 "Captain, I wish, as a precaution, to inform you 
 that the box I brought aboard contains all my fortune, 
 twenty thousand pounds sterling, in English gold. 
 My boy (pointing to the yellow-haired little chap 
 with a look of affectionate pride) is my only heir; 
 and as I have known you well, and possess your friend- 
 ship, I have made you my executor, and Dane's 
 guardian if the need for one should come." 
 
 Ah, how soon the need came! How we both joked 
 over the matter, and drank a foaming glass or two in 
 the cabin, where he told me all that and more, while 
 the blue eyes of the lad danced with delight' at the 
 notion of having the captain of a big ship for his
 
 1 6 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 second papa! Fine plans we laid then, and some of 
 them have come to pass but the way to them was 
 over the grave of Dane's "first" father. 
 
 Well, we had just crossed the line of the Dublin 
 and Bristol packets when that mahogany box began 
 to give trouble. Was there ever, I wonder, a case 
 where a man kept his own without a fight for it? I 
 do not believe so. Anyhow, Mr. Walraven's gold 
 brought on a fight, and a good many bad consequences 
 have followed. God knows what further trouble is to 
 come of it but I am spinning much too long a yarn, 
 maybe, so I'll begin to furl. 
 
 The Thorp boy had acquired a habit of mousing 
 around the rooms of the officers, and particularly that 
 of Mr. Walraven. I was not exactly suspicious that 
 he was after any meanness, but didn't like it. Several 
 times I sent him below, upon finding him where he 
 had no business, and one day as he was prowling in 
 the steward's room aft, I took him by the collar of his 
 jacket, and cuffed him soundly. 
 
 Now, Mr. Walraven had told no one but myself of 
 the secret treasury he had in his state-room, but the 
 boy Silas was at the time hanging about the cabin, 
 and it is certain, from what happened on the night be- 
 fore we rounded the headland in Massachusetts Bay, 
 that Silas had been eavesdropping, and had heard 
 the communication made to me. Anyhow, that night, 
 just before dark, it appears, he crept into Mr. Wai- 
 raven's room, and carried off the box and hid it below, 
 under some tarpaulin junk. Then he sought his 
 father, who was waiting near a stanchion, and whis-
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 1J 
 
 pered what he had done, and pointed to the spot 
 where he had secreted the box. 
 
 Now, it so happened that little Dane, a pet with all 
 the crew as well as with all the officers of the ship, 
 had been taken below by one of the sailors, to gratify 
 his childish curipsity, and was playing about some 
 bales of wool when Silas came down with the box. 
 Unobserved by the young thief, Dane saw it placed 
 under the junk; and as soon as he was taken above, 
 his childish instinct led him to his father with the 
 important fact that 
 
 "The man with the crooked fingers, and his boy, 
 had taken the pretty box down there, and hid it away." 
 
 Of course Mr. Walraven hurried to his room, and 
 sure enough the box was gone. I was hastily called, 
 and summoned the master-at-arms and a sailor, and 
 we all descended together, 'taking Dane with us. The 
 boy Silas was in the vicinity of the loot, probably to 
 watch it; the intention and the hope being, of course, 
 to get off from the ship in a boat with it before the 
 next morning, and make for some other point on the 
 coast.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 JOEL THORP AND THE SKIPPER DISAGREE 
 
 "There is the bad boy!" 
 
 That was little Dane's exclamation, the moment he 
 got sight of Silas, and the latter, betraying his guilt 
 on the spot, skipped away, no doubt to warn his father 
 that the job had been discovered. 
 
 Then Dane ran to the old tarpaulin, and attempted 
 to drag it off the box. We were moving toward it, 
 also, when we heard a sudden rush of feet coming 
 from the hatches aft, and the next minute we were 
 attacked by Thorp and his son, and the man Crouch, 
 each of them having in his hands a marline-spike 
 which was raised over us with the very evident inten- 
 tion of braining us. Fortunately, each of my party 
 had a pistol, and myself and the master-at-arms carried 
 each a cutlass; otherwise, the wretches would have 
 made brief work of it, for there was no one in sight 
 to help us. 
 
 We laid to, without any parley, you can be sure; 
 and soon had the desperate thieves down. 
 
 The lad was only scratched a little; the fellow 
 Crouch had two of the fingers of his left hand cut off 
 in trying to grasp my cutlass; and Thorp had lost his 
 left eye by a blow which I was obliged to deal him 
 with the handle of my weapon. He fell down with a 
 
 18
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 1 9 
 
 screech that was devilish. Indeed, his rage was ter ; 
 rible, and the sight of his naturally ugly and now dis- 
 figured and bloody face was hideous. 
 
 Thorp was not vanquished yet, however: for no 
 sooner was he manacled and lifted to his feet, than 
 he aimed a murderous blow at my head, striking me 
 severely with the irons on his hands. For this, I or- 
 dered him to be taken on deck and twenty lashes 
 given him; which was done with more than good-will, 
 and I really had some difficulty in preventing the men 
 from throwing the fellow overboard. His bare back, 
 bleeding, and his face in a bloody state also, he looked, 
 as it was, pretty badly done up. 
 
 The Thorp boy and girl, during this scene, acted 
 like young demons, howling with rage and terror, and 
 attacking the sailors who had their father in tow, un- 
 til it became necessary to give the boy a light drub- 
 bing, and to tie both of the two and lock them up. 
 At daylight they were let out. 
 
 After Joel Thorp's wounds were dressed, I directed 
 him to be taken to a cell, and the same direction had 
 disposed of Crouch. As Thorp was being dragged 
 away, he turned his head toward me, with a tigerish 
 glare in his one steel-blue eye, and 
 
 "I'll remember ye curse ye!" he yelled; "an' I'll pay 
 ye for this an' for all for all, d'ye understand?" (But 
 I didn't understand, though I think I do understand 
 now somewhat) "An' I'll remember the kid, curse him! 
 Oh, ye've only whetted my teeth by this, curse ye, 
 curse ye!" 
 
 And that was the situation when we came into the 
 harbor.
 
 2O DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 That night the fire came; and I believe it was the 
 boy Silas that set the Armadillo in a blaze. I did not 
 give a thought to the cause of the fire then, but I 
 gave given it many a thought since, and my black sus- 
 picions run to the boy, in spite of me. 
 
 Well, I gave the order to release prisoners; and the 
 men were brought up, the irons taken off, and they 
 were allowed to go about as freely as the rest, that 
 they might have a chance for their lives, when the 
 moment to fight for them should come. 
 
 That moment was coming fast. 
 
 We could not land, on account of the storm. And 
 while we looked into that seething whirlpool of blood- 
 red waters whose thousand black mouths were opening 
 all around us, and while the land loomed close at 
 hand as though to torture us by the sight of it, the 
 stanch ship of which I was part owner and in which 
 I had sailed many a prosperous voyage, was burned 
 to the water-line. Every soul of the crew went down 
 except the carpenter and the boom-tricer Crouch; all 
 the officers except myself were lost. 1 got the passen- 
 gers in a boat, and put off at the last moment before 
 the flames swept the decks; and Mr. Walraven suc- 
 ceeded in bringing away his precious box. The car- 
 penter and Crouch managed to get away, and were 
 cast ashore as all in my boat also were. 
 
 "My boat was thrown on the shore at the bend just 
 north of Causeway Street; and there we all lay, in a 
 battered and bruised heap, insensible and half-frozen, 
 for the balance of that terrible night. 
 
 The next morning we were picked up, and were
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 21 
 
 taken to the Globe Hotel, in Hanover Street, hard by 
 the pier of the Winnesimitt Ferry. I was soon in 
 shape, and little Dane came around in good order, and 
 the mahogany box was taut and safe. But Mr. Wai- 
 raven had been struck by or been hurled head first 
 against a rock and he was a long time opening his 
 eyes. When he did, he set them on me and I saw he 
 was ready to ship his anchor. 
 
 "Take care of Dane," he whispered, very feebly, 
 "and get the will out of the box. That was a wise 
 precaution Bardell God bless you " 
 
 Then he lay in my arms dead. 
 
 The next day we put the handsome and proud form 
 of my friend in its tomb; and then I took the beauti- 
 ful boy he had given me by the hand, and we went 
 away, weeping together. 
 
 We took quarters at the tavern of Mr. Adams, 369 
 Washington Street (sign of the Lamb), where we 
 were made very comfortable, and had many visits, 
 especially from ladies. These impulsive but well-in- 
 tentioned women would have carried the boy off from 
 me piecemeal, I have not a doubt, if they could have 
 done so without a fatality. They were constantly 
 taking him away in their carriages, to visit their own 
 youngsters at their elegant and pleasant homes; and 
 several offered to adopt him. Egad! the bonny laddie 
 could have taken his pick among half a dozen aristo- 
 cratic families who were willing to call him son. But 
 I felt that I was not selfish when I refused to part 
 with him; I was carrying out his father's wishes; I 
 was getting a home ready for him; and his money had
 
 22 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 been put out at six*per cent by Mr. Winthrop, the 
 president of the Union Bank, a sound and safe insti- 
 tution of seventeen years' standing. So, when the 
 great dames came to me for final decisions, I said to 
 them 
 
 "I am as good as a father to the lad; and he doesn't 
 need to be adopted into a family an order to secure a 
 home nor a fortune, either. And it being the case 
 that I am his guardian and the custodian of his money, 
 and that he and I are getting to be fast mates, and it 
 also being the case that I have no family, and no re- 
 lations, and no ship, why, we'll stay together." 
 
 And we did. But the excellent people who had 
 taken such an interest in Dane, first because he was 
 shipwrecked or stranded, and second because of his 
 great beauty and wonderful sweet temper and man- 
 ners, continued to invite him to their homes; and he 
 made in this way so many acquaintances in a little 
 while, that it was as though he had been born in the 
 midst of them; all of which was very gratifying, and 
 promised well for his happiness and well-doing when 
 he should be older. 
 
 But black clouds were gathering over both of us; 
 we were going to feel the whip of misfortune, the 
 sting of sorrow, Dane and I.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 CAPTAIN BARDELL'S STRANGE VISITOR 
 
 Two years had passed since the date of the great 
 storm and the burning of the "Armadillo." 
 
 Only two years; yet this brief interval of time was 
 plethoric with events of the gravest importance to 
 those in whose remembrance these chronicles are writ- 
 ten. 
 
 The captain had established himself in the ship- 
 chandlery business, near the long wharf; and as he 
 conducted his affairs with prudence, the strictest in- 
 tegrity, and wise liberality, he had secured not only 
 the custom of a large and influential class, but the so- 
 cial recognition and esteem of the best citizens in the 
 community. His amiable and excellent qualities had 
 drawn about him a large coterie of friends, and his 
 comfortable and well ordered house in Tremont Street 
 south, was a favorite resort, especially of the church 
 to which he had attached himself. The pastor of this, 
 the First Church, in Chauncey Place, Mr. Frothing- 
 ham, was one of the captain's most valued friends, 
 and was a frequent visitor also; and the friendship of 
 this excellent minister was destined very soon to prove 
 of the utmost benefit to the captain, as we shall pres- 
 ently see. 
 
 Dane was now past his fifth year; and was rapidly 
 
 23
 
 24 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 developing, not only in his sturdy little body, but in 
 those traits which render childhood so charming, and 
 its promise so pleasing. The love of the guardian and 
 ward for each other was something beautiful, both in 
 its perfect sincerity and in its delicate manifestation. 
 It promised happiness to both; and yet out of it was 
 to come woe! 
 
 It was now nearing the end of the year and an early 
 fall had long since stripped the elms of their red and 
 gold raiment and the skies were leaden with icy va- 
 pors. 
 
 On such a morning as this the captain stood in his 
 library, placidly gazing out at the snowy particles that 
 flaked the windows, when he saw, approaching the 
 house and ascending the steps, the figure of a man 
 whom he had last seen by the ruddy but terrible light 
 of his burning ship, tossing in a quarter-boat in a 
 churning sea. The face of this man was not a pleasant 
 sight to the skipper, and his own clouded, and his 
 brows gathered in a frown as he heard the heavy 
 knocker sounding against the hall door. But he 
 waited where he was, while Mrs. Peddie, his Scotch 
 housekeeper, went briskly to answer the somewhat 
 peremptory summons. 
 
 The moment she opened the outer door, the man 
 stepped into the hall. 
 
 "Can I see the captain?" he asked, in a tone of im- 
 portance, and with a consequential air, as though he 
 considered his business of grave import. 
 
 Mrs. Peddie eyed him suspiciously. 
 
 "What is it you want, sir?" demanded she rather 
 sharply.
 
 DANE WALK AV EN 25 
 
 The visitor gave a preliminary sniff, then emitted a 
 sound as if he was swallowing something and replied 
 in a snarling tone: 
 
 "My business is with the gentleman; will you be 
 good enough to tell him I wish to see him?" 
 
 The condescending manner of the man, his impudent 
 tone of command, and the covert glitter of a pair of 
 black eyes which he kept carefully veiled by their long 
 red lids, and a curious turning of the pupils down- 
 ward roused, the independent and irascible Scotch 
 blood in Mrs. Peddie. She was born in the Highlands, 
 had hid in Wallace's Cave when a wee bairn, and 
 feared "nae black bodie. " Besides she had felt an in- 
 stinctive dislike for the man the instant he set foot in 
 the hall. She therefore retorted, more sharply than 
 before: 
 
 "Ye neednae be sae brash wi' yure orders, my man! 
 And Mr. Bardell is just down the minute for his 
 breakfast, and I shallnae disturb him, unless it un- 
 less the business is important." 
 
 "Oh, I will wait until he is through," returned the 
 visitor, with a nasal drawl, and the habitual smile 
 broadening across his square chin. 
 
 The housekeeper was baffled again; but she was not 
 ready to yield. 
 
 "Is yure business important?" she demanded. 
 
 1 Um my business is always important, madam. 
 See here, now," he said, with a sudden snarl, "you 
 can't treat me this way or bluff me. I'm a gentleman, 
 and I'm going to see your master." 
 
 The worthy Mrs. Peddie stared at him, and shud-
 
 26 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 dered. Her premonitions were, like those of many 
 others of her race, rarely at fault, nor were they in 
 this instance. If only the honest and unsuspicious cap- 
 tain had had some of her prescience! 
 
 "What is yure name if ye have one?"- demanded 
 she. 
 
 "My name is James Crouch," replied he stiffly. 
 
 'And does Mr. Bardell know ye?" 
 
 "He has known me and I think he will recollect 
 me," with a sniff and a swallow. "Now, my dear 
 madam, if you will oblige me by telling him that I 
 want to see him on business, you will save time and 
 trouble; and my time is worth money." 
 
 The housekeeper glanced at the long-bodied figure, 
 with its long arms partly immersed in the deep pockets 
 of the shabby overcoat,- and smothered a contempt- 
 uous exclamation of dissent; but she succumbed. 
 
 "Sit down here," pushing a chair toward him, "and 
 wait until I come back." 
 
 Mr. Crouch slowly seated himself, while his covert 
 glance malignantly pursued the retreating figure. 
 
 "Hm you're snippish, madam," muttered he, with 
 his heavy jaws set, "but if I'm not mistaken, we'll 
 know each other better, after awhile!" 
 
 Then he remained silent, with his large ears a-cock 
 for the returning f >otsteps, which now came very 
 slowly toward him. 
 
 A singular character, was this man, and a real one, 
 as some others whose names are disguised in these 
 chapters are. A phenomenally wicked man, revengeful 
 to an insane degree, implacable and cruel, as cunning
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 27 
 
 a scoundrel as ever cursed the earth. A black-hearted 
 reptile, who hated the more for being nourished, fed, 
 or aided; whose very origin low and vicious gave 
 him opportunities to intrude upon those respectable 
 people whom it was with him a fiendish pleasure to 
 thereafter blackmail or slander. 
 
 When Mrs. Peddie reluctantly returned to conduct 
 him to her master, his face wore a cringing mask, his 
 thick lips, always compressed, a smirk. The captain 
 stood in the center of the room, his pleasant face still 
 clouded. He looked cold and unimpressible to the 
 stealthy eyes of his visitor; and the latter was for a 
 moment secretly disconcerted. But he had deliberately 
 arranged his programme; and the resentment he now 
 felt under the steady, questioning eyes of the man who 
 had put him in irons and whom he had another and 
 far more deadly reason to hate, as he believed, stimu- 
 lated his sinister purpose, and emboldened him to 
 proceed.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 A REPTILE CHARACTER 
 
 "You remember me, sir?" Crouch began, as he 
 writhed or rather darted into the library, and stood 
 holding his bell-crowned hat in his folded hands. 
 
 "By your name, yes," was the cool answer. "I have 
 not a strong memory for faces." 
 
 It had been fortunate for the captain, indeed, if his 
 memory had been better. 
 
 "What is the object of your visit?" inquired the 
 latter, omitting to invite Crouch to seat himself. 
 
 "Hm I called to see you about a position that is 
 open to me, if I can get some gentleman's influence in 
 my favor; and as you are a member of the City Coun- 
 cil, and the only gentleman I am acquainted with this 
 side of the water, I have come to ask you to help me 
 get the place." 
 
 "What is the situation )^ou seek?" inquired his list- 
 ener, indifferently. 
 
 "Assistant Superintendent of Burial Grounds," re- 
 plied Crouch, promptly. 
 
 "Ah! I don't know much about that office. What 
 are the superintendent's duties?" 
 
 Evidently, the applicant for the lugubrious post 
 had studied the duties well, for he answered glibly 
 
 "To keep a record book in his office, in which to 
 
 28
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 2Q 
 
 register all deaths that are reported to him, the age, 
 name, business, place of burial, place of death and 
 the cause of same. To direct the sextons; to issue 
 permits to bury, open or close graves or tombs, or re- 
 move bodies." 
 
 This catechetical recital elicited no response from 
 the captain, who, however, opened his blue eyes a trifle 
 wider, while he surveyed the applicant in silence. 
 
 The latter waited a few moments, and then remarked, 
 with an assumption of indifference that would have 
 imposed on no one but the skipper, who had always 
 sailed in open waters, and had never kept "a weather 
 eye for snags " 
 
 'You came from Carlisle, down in Cumberland, I 
 believe?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I used to be there often," continued the visitor, 
 demurely. 
 
 "Indeed?" The skipper evinced some curiosity at 
 this bit of information. 
 
 "Yes, sir, I was for some time gardener at Greystoke 
 Park, near to Penrith, the seat of a branch of the 
 Howards." 
 
 "Ah?" The captain was becoming interested. 
 
 "Yes," with modest complacence, "but I wanted 
 to see a bit of the outside; so I went off to the 
 Guernsey coast, and tried fishing there." 
 
 The captain smiled slightly, and shook his head. 
 
 "You are sure it was fishing, are you?" he asked, 
 ironically. He well knew that the fishermen of Guern- 
 
 
 
 sey in general were smugglers, at that date.
 
 30 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 "Oh, yes. But I didn't make out; and it was hard 
 on me there. I came back to England as far as I 
 could and then made up my mind to come to Amer- 
 ica, where I could earn an honest living." 
 
 "You made a bad beginning, on board my ship," 
 observed the skipper, his face becoming suddenly 
 stern. 
 
 But Crouch was prepared for this reproach. 
 
 "I think you are wrong," said he with extreme 
 gravity, and in a congested tone, "but I suppose you 
 are minded of the Thorp business." 
 
 "I was thinking of the Thorp business," returned 
 the captain, severely, "and I was thinking of the part 
 you played openly in it, and the part I believe you 
 played secretly in it." 
 
 The dark-skinned face turned gray, and the corruga- 
 tions in the low forehead deepened, but beyond this 
 there was no sign from Crouch, of either anger or 
 guilty consciousness. In a deprecating tone he said: 
 
 "I knew nothing about the robbery of the box until 
 after it was found; and Thorp told me the thieving 
 was charged on him, and he was innocent. So, see- 
 ing as we came aboard together, and came on from 
 the same part of the country, I thought I was duty- 
 bound to stand by him; and that's how it happened 
 that I got into the row. I am very sorry it happened, 
 captain," 
 
 The heart of the skipper softened, as he heard this 
 quite natural version of the affair. Natural, perhaps, 
 had Crouch been a stupid and ignorant person; but he 
 was both intelligent and fairly educated; and his ex- 
 planation was unplausible as it was false.
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 31 
 
 The captain stood silently regarding the fellow 
 with a steady scrutiny for awhile. He was a generous 
 and kindly man as well as a brave one. The man 
 seemed repentant; that was something in his favor. 
 And perhaps he was in distress. 
 
 "Have you succeeded in anything since you came 
 over?" he inquired 
 
 "Poorly, sir. Times have been hard with me, and 
 most of the seamen and the people that I have run 
 against know that I was a prisoner on the ship you 
 commanded, and it has kept me down." 
 
 This was an appeal, insinuatingly made, to his sense 
 of "justice," quite as much -as to his generosity, and 
 it had an apparent effect. Moreover, what some peo- 
 ple would have called "the infernal luck of the fellow, " 
 had brought him to the captain's door at a most pro- 
 pitious moment for the success of his schemes. The 
 captain was going forth that morning on an errand 
 the success of which he had spent the night in pray- 
 ing for. He was about to make a proposition of mar- 
 riage to one whom he passionately loved, and his 
 heart at this moment was unusually tender. 
 
 He stood lost in reflection. Perhaps a generous act 
 just now would insure the fruition of his trembling 
 hopes; and it might be that Fortune was testing him 
 before conferring its supremest favor upon him. 
 
 Crouch neither moved nor spoke while these thoughts 
 were passing. He had kept his evil eyes shaded, as 
 usual, by his drooping lids, as if fearful that his black 
 soul might be read, and his treacherous heart reveal 
 its cesspool through them.
 
 32 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 "Well," said Captain Bardell, finally, "bring me 
 some recommendations from respectable persons for 
 whom you have worked during the past six or eight 
 months, and if I am satisfied with them I will get the 
 place for you. " 
 
 "I will do that at once," returned Crouch, briskly, 
 as he crept toward the door; "and I'll try to pay you." 
 
 His patron had already started to leave the library 
 while Crouch was delivering this speech; and some- 
 thing indefinably unpleasant in the tone in which the 
 last words were uttered caused him to turn and look 
 after the skulking figure as it passed with its spring- 
 ing step into the hall. 
 
 Mrs. Peddie was at hand to open the street door; 
 and as the man glided by her, with a peculiar smirk 
 on his sinister face, she shrank away from him; her 
 eyes wore a troubled expression, as she closed the 
 door slowly. 
 
 "Ugh!" murmured she, "I do feel as though a rep- 
 tile had crawled into the house!" 
 
 And again her woman's intuition had not failed: a 
 reptile had crawled into the house.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 CAPTAIN BARBELL'S COURTSHIP 
 
 Out on the old Salem turnpike, nine miles distant 
 from Boston, lies the ancient town of Lynn, famous, 
 even at the date of our story, for its extensive shoe 
 manufactories. 
 
 Hundreds of young girls were at that time employed, 
 in these establishments, many of whom attended a 
 night-school which a few philanthropic ladies of the 
 town had organized. A young lady of Lynn who 
 taught in the principal school there, was induced to 
 preside over this night-school, devoting to its duties 
 two hours of each alternate evening in the week. This 
 teacher, Miss Clara Phillips, was an orphan of twenty, 
 beautiful, of excellent birth, and with many amiable 
 qualities of both mind and person. She made her home 
 with an estimable elderly widow lady, a Mrs. Farns- 
 worth, where she sometimes received brief visits from 
 several of her brightest scholars, among the latter a 
 handsome and intelligent girl of eighteen, known as 
 Ellen Peters. 
 
 Ellen had been a factory girl for upwards of a year 
 when she entered the night-school, and had made such 
 rapid progress in her studies, and had exhibited so 
 pleasing and adaptable a disposition, as to gain 
 especial favor with her teacher. There was something 
 
 33
 
 34 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 peculiar about the girl, a restlessness of manner, and 
 a reticence of habit, which for a long time puzzled 
 Clara, who regarded her as strangely eccentric but 
 liked her none the less. She appeared to have no rel- 
 atives, and to know no one except her co-workers in 
 the factory, and with these she was reserved to auster- 
 ity. 
 
 An accident at a bathing pier extending out from 
 the famous Lynn Beach, and from which Miss Phillips 
 had fallen, sustaining a severe concussion, had brought 
 these two together. Ellen, who had been sauntering 
 along the shore at dusk one evening, had witnessed 
 the mishap and had helped the young lady to her 
 home, receiving a kind invitation, before she left for 
 her own lodgings, to come to the night-school. Noth- 
 ing more was seen of her by Miss Phillips, however, 
 until more than a month had elapsed, when an inci- 
 dent again brought about a meeting between these two 
 whose fates were to be fearfully intermingled. 
 
 The Lynn Beach is a magnificent stretch of more 
 than a mile and a half between Lynn and Nahant, and 
 was quite as popular a resort with the good people 
 of Boston half- a century ago as it is at the present 
 day. 
 
 One of the most frequent visitors from the city was 
 Captain Howard Bardell, whose thoroughbred bays 
 and stylish four-wheeler were seen there twice or thrice 
 a week. Dane always accompanied his guardian; and 
 the latter found even more delight in observing the 
 smiles bestowed on the boy by the beach-seekers, than 
 in the grand view of the sea he had always loved.
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 35 
 
 During one of his excursions thither on an exqui- 
 sitely golden afternoon in October, that queen of the 
 months around Boston, the captain was suddenly 
 startled out of a reverie as he drove along the beach 
 with Dane at his side, by an exclamation from his 
 ward 
 
 "Look look, Guardy, what a pretty lady!" 
 
 The captain turned his face away from the sea, with 
 a. smile at the boy's vivacity, and his eyes rested full 
 upon the face of the "y un g teacher. She had been 
 sauntering dreamily along the shore, and was coming 
 toward the slowly moving vehicle, when her glance 
 fell upon the- sunlit head of the boy. Involuntarily 
 she stopped for an instant, and as Dane chanced to 
 be gazing at her, her fair face lit up with a smile that 
 made it radiant. 
 
 The captain's glance caught the smile and their 
 eyes met. But while his followed her form with an 
 eagerness which brought the crimson into her cheeks 
 her own fell instantly; and with some confusion in 
 her manner she hurried past him and turned away 
 from the beach. 
 
 The captain breathed something like a sigh as he 
 touched his horses up and then suddenly brought them 
 to a stand at the edge of the pier on the left where 
 he saw a handsome girl, motionless and pale, staring 
 alternately at himself and Dane. Accustomed to the 
 scrutiny which Dane invariably attracted, he paid no 
 attention to the appearance of the girl, except to ob- 
 serve that she wore no bonnet or wrap and from this 
 circumstance he judged her to be a resident of the 
 town.
 
 36 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 Touching his hat politely he asked her if such was 
 the case. 
 
 With an odd appearance of embarrassment, and 
 with her keen black eyes fixed upon Dane, she an- 
 swered yes. 
 
 Then the captain became embarrassed in his turn. 
 He wished to know the. name of the }'oung lady who 
 had just passed him, where she lived, and something 
 more, and he had obeyed part of the impulse to ask 
 this stranger to tell him. But now he realized the 
 possible impropriety of such inquiries, and he hesi- 
 tated. 
 
 But the girl had observed everything; she instantly 
 guessed, from his confused manner, that it was not 
 herself in whom he felt such sudden interest, but the 
 one who had vanished among the chestnut trees a mo- 
 ment before. 
 
 A look that might have been relief passed over her 
 brown face; and then, with a faint smile of sarcasm, 
 she surprised him with a question: 
 
 "You want to know who that lady is, sir, I sup- 
 pose? " 
 
 "Oh, the lady that just passed?" stammered he. "Do 
 do you think, now that she was really frightened 
 at the horses?" 
 
 The girl laughed; and to the captain, the laugh 
 seemed to mock him. It had a ring of bitterness in 
 it, too, although there could be no reason for it. 
 
 "Did she look like she was frightened?" queried 
 she, dryly. 
 
 "I I don't know," he confessed, hesitatingly, and
 
 DANE WALRAVEN yj 
 
 beginning to look uncomfortable. Half a dozen per- 
 sons had loitered near, and these were drawing infer- 
 ences that seemed to greatly amuse them, especially 
 when they observed the captain's color. He was, in 
 truth, managing very badly. 
 
 He caught up his lines, and was on the point of 
 moving on, when the girl suddenly came close to the 
 side of the vehicle, and said in an undertone: 
 
 "The lady is Miss Clara Phillips; she teaches school 
 at the seminary. Do you want to see her?" 
 
 The captain was not prepared for so bold a sugges- 
 tion, and he reddened more fiercely than ever. But 
 Dane instantly clapped his hands with delight. 
 
 "Yes, yes, say yes, Guardy!" 
 
 And turning his sunny face towards the girl, he said 
 coaxingly: 
 
 'You'll take us to see her, won't you? I just know 
 you know her " 
 
 "Hush, hush, my lad," expostulated his guardian, 
 looking seriously perplexed. But suddenly a fine idea 
 occurred to him. 
 
 "You know the lady?" inquired He, turning to the 
 girl. 
 
 "Yes, sir; I have been to her home." 
 
 "That is well. Now you see how eager my little 
 ward is to make her acquaintance; and it always pains 
 me to deny him anything anything reasonable, you 
 understand; especially as he is an orphan, and I am 
 the only one in the world, to look after his pleasures. 
 Now, perhaps you would go to the lady and tell her 
 all this that is,' tell her about the lad, and ask her if 
 I may bring him to see her will you?' 1
 
 38 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 The captain was doing finely, now. 
 
 The girl regarded him steadily, with a curious ex- 
 pression, and answered slowly: 
 
 "Yes, I will do what you wish. If you will drive 
 at a walk, turning around the clump of elm trees yon- 
 der, toward the right, you will see a two-story house, 
 painted brown, standing back in a yard. That's where 
 she lives. I'll cut through a short way, and see her 
 and be outside by the time you get to the gate." 
 
 "Ah, thank you," said the captain, as she started 
 briskly away, "and one moment, please. What is 
 your name?" 
 
 The girl eyed him with the same peculiar smile as 
 before, reflected a second or two and replied gravely: 
 
 "Ellen Peters." 
 
 Then she walked rapidly up toward Beach Street, 
 the captain's horses slowly following. 
 
 It was dark night when he and Dane drove back over 
 the turnpike, leaving behind them two persons whose 
 influence upon the lives of both was destined to soon 
 weave about them a shroud as black as the garments 
 of Eros.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 SEQUEL OF A DRIVE ON THE LYNN BEACH 
 
 The end of November was approaching, the trees were 
 leafless, and the winds that began, to sweep along the 
 Lynn Beach were bleak, and the sea itself looked gray 
 and dismal. 
 
 Notwithstanding all this, the energetic mariner found 
 greater attractions on the strand than ever before; and 
 after an invariably rapid drive to the town, he as in- 
 variably found it necessary to rest for a season at the 
 widow's three gabled house, and to secure a companion 
 for his stroll or drive on the shore. The widow had 
 become quite infatuated with Dane; and she usually 
 contrived to entice him into staying with her during 
 the perambulations of Clara and the. captain; and 
 sometimes Ellen Peters came while the lad was there, 
 and her ingenious efforts to divert him led after 
 awhile to a sort of comradeship between him and her 
 which she appeared to be singularly desirous of 
 strengthening. Ellen had entered the night-school 
 immediately after the first meeting between the young 
 teacher and Captain Bardell; and she had begun to 
 visit the former once or twice a week, making herself 
 not only very agreeable but useful as well, both to 
 Clara and Mrs. Farnsworth. 
 
 On New Year's day following his first meeting with 
 
 39
 
 40 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 Miss Phillips, the captain called upon Mr. Frothing- 
 ham, the pastor of the First Church, and informed him 
 of the growing interest he felt in that young lady, 
 whom he described to the reverend gentleman as a 
 being of "exquisite perfections." 
 
 Miss Phillips had many friends in Lynn, and not a 
 few admirers; but this latest acquisition to her suite 
 was not the least pretentious. Indeed, it may be said 
 that he was .proving formidable. His manly figure and 
 bearing, his frank and honorable nature, the posses- 
 sion of a sound mentality and fmis'hed education, ren- 
 dered him more than a match for his younger rivals. 
 
 Nor can it be said that Mr. Bardell, albeit a modest 
 gentleman, and of a reserved disposition, either un- 
 derrated his powers or neglected his opportunities. 
 He wanted a wife; he was certainly old ^enough to 
 choose one intelligently; and Clara Phillips was his 
 "unanimous choice." 
 
 Mr. Bardell' s mind had been somewhat disturbed 
 by sundry doubts, before his interview with his min- 
 ister. He had a great deal of faith in the latter's 
 judgment, and had sought him for advice. 
 
 "Do you think, sir," he gravely asked, "that the 
 disparity in our ages will prove a very decided disad- 
 vantage on my side?" 
 
 The captain appeared to be thinking of a sea-fight. 
 But love has turned stronger heads than his. 
 
 "How old are you?" demanded the minister. 
 
 "Forty," replied the other, moving uneasily. 
 
 "Hum. And she?" 
 
 "Twenty," returned the captain, moving still more 
 uneasily.
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 4! 
 
 "Just escaped it!" was the enigmatical comment of 
 his sententious counselor. 
 
 "I don't quite understand you, sir?" observed the 
 suitor and client, rising abruptly, and staring anxiously 
 at the old gentleman. 
 
 The latter smiled cheerfully over his spectacles, and 
 getting out of his padded chair, he squared his portly 
 figure in front of the lugubrious candidate, placed his 
 hands behind him under his coat-tails, and said beam- 
 ingly: 
 
 "You have just escaped being old enough to be her 
 father. " 
 
 "How what?" 
 
 Mr. Bardell backed into his chair, overcome by an 
 announcement in which only Mr. Frothingham seemed 
 to see something humorous. 
 
 "Come, come," exclaimed the latter, "you do not 
 appear to appreciate that fact." 
 
 Then he advanced to the captain's chair, and laying 
 one forefinger into the palm of his other hand: 
 
 "You're nineteen years older than your wife; that is, 
 you're a grown up man. You're not 'old enough to be 
 her father,' and nobody can throw that up to you. 
 Therefore, you have nothing to fear if she's a sensi- 
 ble young woman. Go to her with confidence; and 
 let me know to-morrow night when the bans are to 
 be read. Be off now, you silly boy, and don't drive 
 your horses too fast on your way back from Lynn." 
 
 Mr. Bardell walked briskly home, murmuring to 
 himself, while a smile of satisfaction rippled over his 
 bronzed face: .
 
 42 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 "Excellent man! Why, he's twenty years older than 
 I am and he's as bright as a new guinea." 
 
 .Accordingly, on the morning following, when Jem 
 Crouch glided out of the Bardell residence, the cap- 
 tain's natty team came prancing up to the entrance, 
 champing their bits with as much impatience as though 
 they knew they were going in search of a mistress. 
 They certainly knew the direction they were expected 
 to take; and with flying hoofs, and without feeling the 
 lines over their sleek flanks, they sped away in the 
 light of the glorious morning sun toward the pale star 
 that shone under the brown gables of the old house 
 in Lynn. 
 
 It was but a little past ten o'clock when the Widow 
 Farnsworth heard a loud peal from the brass knocker 
 of her front door. Promptly answering the summons, 
 she stood in the doorway, in her proverbial black 
 bombazine and black silk apron, surveying the visitor 
 over her gold-rimmed spectacles with unconcealed 
 surprise. 
 
 "La, it's Mr. Bardell!" ejaculated the quaint old 
 dame, ushering him with friendly fussiness into the 
 prim little parlor. Seating herself opposite his chair 
 for a moment, she folded her hands in her lap, and 
 again smilingly surveyed him. 
 
 "La, me, I was actually set back, when I saw you 
 first. Thinks 1, have I lost a day? If I have, thinks 
 I, it's a warning. But then it ain't strange; I'm get- 
 ting along, and memory can't last forever. Why, let 
 me see, I'm old enough to be your mother!" 
 
 The captain started visibly at these familiar words,
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 43 
 
 and his face flushed. Then he glanced at the plump 
 figure of the widow, and smiled complacently. 
 
 "Old age hasn't reached you yet, Mrs. Farnsworth," 
 said he, gallantly. 
 
 The widow shook her head with a non-committal 
 movement. 
 
 ''I must say I felt a little set back when I saw you. 
 You never come on Saturday, it's always Sunday. It's 
 true I take the Lynn 'Record;' but the editor himself 
 missed the day, the right date, I mean, once; and 
 I've never had any confidence in the paper since." 
 
 Then a few moments of silence ensued,- the widow 
 quizzically eyeing him the while. 
 
 "I s'pose you want to see Clara?" she said, finally. 
 
 "Hm if it is convenient," replied he, feeling not 
 altogether comfortable. 
 
 "Of course it's convenient," responded she cheerfully. 
 "Well, she just went out a little bit since, but she 
 can't be far. There, she's coming now." 
 
 There was a light step in the hall, and then Ellen 
 Peters looked into the room. 
 
 She gave the captain a sedate courtesy, and was 
 about to withdraw, when the widow called her. 
 
 "Ellen," said she, "can you find Miss Clara and 
 bring her home? Mr. Bardell wants to see her. It's 
 important." 
 
 The girl looked fixedly into his face for an Instant, 
 with searching eyes; then she answered quietly, as 
 she turned away, 
 
 "I can find her." 
 
 Five minutes had scarcely elapsed, when Clara en-
 
 44 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 tered the room. She stopped abruptly, her eyes be- 
 traying even greater surprise than Mrs. Farnsworth 
 had exhibited. 
 
 The latter had risen, and murmuring an excuse left 
 the parlor. 
 
 "You did not know it was I who sent for you?" in- 
 quired her visitor, as he took her hand, and led her 
 to a seat. 
 
 "No," replied she with an air of perplexity. 
 
 "Ellen did not tell you, then?" 
 
 "No, she said there was a a foreign gentleman in 
 the parlor v who wished to see me immediately, about a 
 subject that isn't taught in schools," answered Clara, 
 innocently. 
 
 The captain thought this rather queer; but he 
 laughed heartily; and Clara sank back in her chair 
 with an unaccountable feeling that there was some- 
 thing strange in Ellen's manner, and that she herself 
 had been saying something ridiculous. 
 
 Mr. Bardell had now reached the supreme moment; 
 and what then transpired is worthy of a chapter by 
 itself.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE BETROTHAL 
 
 The captain had seated himself beside the chair in 
 which Clara sat shrinkingly waiting the explanation of 
 his visit. He had taken the soft white hand again, 
 and was holding it firmly, while she, beginning to re- 
 cover her self-possession, bethought her that his 
 errand concerned Dane, to whom she was deeply at- 
 tached. Dane was frequently the principal subject of 
 conversation between them, and the captain had often 
 sought her advice in matters affecting his ward's com- 
 fort and pursuits. She had, in fact, come to feel a 
 sort of second guardianship over Dane, herself. Per- 
 haps the captain was about to ask her to teach the 
 boy, thought she, and her heart glowed with pleasure 
 at the mere suggestion of such a happy possibility. 
 
 Absorbed by this fancy, she forgot that the captain 
 was still holding her hand, that he was bending his 
 blue eyes upon hers with an intensity which now found 
 some vent in his de'ep voice. 
 
 "Clara, can you not guess what has brought me here, 
 this morning?" 
 
 "Perhaps you wish to become one of my pupils, " re- 
 turned she, naively; not noticing in her very ingenu- 
 ousness, that for the first time since she had known 
 him, he had omitted the "Miss" in addressing her. 
 
 45
 
 46 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 "To be one of your pupils," replied he, with a ten- 
 der smile, "would indeed be a delicious privilege." 
 
 "Well, then," answered she, playfully, "I will take 
 you on probation, but upon one 'condition prece- 
 dent.'" 
 
 "You would only have to name it " 
 
 "Really?" she interrupted, glancing up into his face 
 with unsuspecting eagerness. "Then it is this: you 
 are to give me another pupil at the same time in 
 Dane." 
 
 The captain's eyes danced. Aha! here was a chance 
 for a coup; and the ex-officer in H. M. S. had been 
 noted for the skillful handling of his guns. 
 
 "Take me," he said, bending over the little hand 
 caressingly, "and Dane shall be to you as a " 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 The suddenness of this explosive, the swiftness with 
 which the hand flew from his grasp, and the evident 
 state of panic into which his companion passed in a 
 second of time, fairly astonished him, and he drew 
 his chair a few inches away from her, while he sur- 
 veyed her with very wide open eyes, abashed and si- 
 lent. 
 
 Only for an instant had Clara's violet eyes responded, 
 when they flashed a startled look into his. Then they 
 sought occupation elsewhere. The beautiful head 
 drooped slowly forward, the rounded cheeks glowed 
 with a crimson stain which faded swiftly out of them 
 and left them white as ivory. 
 
 Love communicates its secrets in many subtler ways 
 than speech contrives. It betrays itself, too, more
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 47 
 
 certainly when it surprises its subject; but the mo- 
 ment the subject is conscious of its presence within, 
 life assumes a new aspect, the world changes. 
 
 To Clara, love was revealing itself with an abrupt- 
 ness that frightened her. She was taken unawares by 
 the sly litftle god; and in the surprise of the moment 
 she betrayed her heart to the man who sat there, as 
 mute- as herself, but watching her with glowing e}'es. 
 
 Her right hand hung unguardedly over the arm of 
 her chair nearest him. He reached forward, and softly 
 took it once more; and although she tried to draw it 
 from him he held it only the faster; and she felt his 
 own burning against her trembling fingers. Her 
 bosom was agitated with emotions she could not un- 
 derstand; they were a mystery to her, and whether a 
 sweet or a painful one she knew not. Her breath 
 came quicker, and she trembled. 
 
 "There is but one boon, and I came here to ask it," 
 murmured her lover. 
 
 Still she was silent. Her drooping chin had touched 
 her bosom, whose rise and fall he saw with a kindling 
 passion that quivered in every fiber of his body. 
 
 Perhaps the highest degree of felicity possible to 
 human beings is reached when the heart first stirs with 
 love; just as the heart deceived by the object of its 
 love leaps down into the lowest depths of misery. 
 
 There was virgin love in the hearts of these two 
 now; and they drank in the ecstasy of the moment like 
 thirsty travelers who have crossed a Sahara whose 
 dearth has ended at last by a spring of leaping waters. 
 
 The prim little parlor of the prim little Widow
 
 48 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 Farnsworth had never before witnessed such a scene 
 as this. The hair-cloth furniture setting stiffly against 
 the white walls, the blue and gray carpet which was 
 always damp because the sun was not permitted to 
 shine upon it, the quaint portraits in ancient frames 
 that hung sedately above the old oak wainscoting, 
 like teachers of propriety, were made witnesses, for 
 the first time in their dumb existence, of the first act 
 in that beautiful life-drama which will be re-enacted 
 again and yet again, as long, indeed, as hearts are 
 human. 
 
 At last Clara raised her eyes, and very pure eyes 
 they were, full of a divine light that came wandering 
 timidly up from the depths of a very pure soul. 
 
 "Do you love me?" she asked softly; and the tremor 
 in her voice added to its melody. 
 
 "Love you!" 
 
 For an. instant, then, the calmness of the man gave 
 way to the ardor of the lover. He leaned forward in 
 his chair; and then, to her intense dismay, his arms 
 were thrown about her pliant form, and he drew her 
 to him in an irresistible embrace. 
 
 "Oh Mr. Bardell!" exclaimed the frightened girl, 
 struggling to free herself. "Please " 
 
 But Mr. Bardell was at this instant too. much en- 
 grossed by his own overpowering emotions to forego 
 their enjoyment. He only folded her the closer to his 
 breast, until he felt the palpitating little heart pulsing 
 against his own. 
 
 "Please release me!" she pleaded, panting with ex- 
 citement and the pressure of his strong arms, and 
 two tears glittered on her long lashes.
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 49 
 
 Mr. Bar dell saw them, and relented; and as she 
 sank down into her chair, with averted eyes and crim- 
 son cheeks, he recovered himself, and sat bolt upright 
 in his seat, like a school-boy on the stool of repent- 
 ance. 
 
 "Did I frighten you very much?" he finally stam-* 
 mered, beginning now to show some compunction for 
 her distress. 
 
 "Yes that is a little," was faintly murmured back. 
 
 "I'm I'm a ruffian! "declared he, energetically. 
 Then he waited a moment, watching her rosy face 
 ruefully. 
 
 A swift glance of reproach and tenderness answered 
 his self-accusation. 
 
 "Don't you think so?" ventured he, taking heart. 
 
 "No!" 
 
 The answer was soft as a zephyr, but it thrilled 
 him. 
 
 "Then you forgive me, for my my " 
 
 He hardly knew what to term it, that passionate 
 outburst, so natural, so spontaneous. His life had 
 been so arid, you see; and the dew of heaven had 
 suddenly fallen upon it for the first time. How could 
 he have stayed the impulse to dri-nk? 
 
 "You do forgive me?" 
 
 "Yes." A very gentle murmur, this time, and a 
 deepening of the red in the peach-like cheeks, over 
 which the chestnut curls were falling in ravishing con- 
 fusion. 
 
 "Oh, thank you," returned he, fervently, and he 
 folded his hands together, more than ever like a 
 school-boy.
 
 50 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 Then ensued a silence, that eloquent silence which 
 needs no interpreter. These two hearts were coming 
 together swiftly; their life-currents were about to 
 unite; and speech or sound would have been profa- 
 nation. 
 
 . They could hear each others' hearts beat, though, 
 in that rythmic measure which was sweeter to them 
 than the music of harps. 
 
 A man who loves, is, until his declaration of it, all 
 expression; a woman who loves, is, until her confes- 
 sion of it, all repression. Her part, therefore, is the 
 harder to sustain; and when it is ended it leaves her 
 faint and languid. 
 
 Clara felt thus, when her lover returned to his first 
 question; and she did not now attempt to withdraw 
 her hand. 
 
 This time he spoke with a comical mixture of doubt, 
 hope, and apology: 
 
 "Will you be my wife, Clara?" 
 
 Raising one little hand, she covered her eyes with 
 it; and then he felt in his own hand an electric shock 
 which went with the swiftness of lightning through 
 his veins. Five little fingers lay in his palm, and 
 they had given it the faintest possible pressure, trem- 
 bling, timid, but certain. 
 
 Then came from his lips like a loosened torrent 
 those rapturous exclamations that are too sacred for 
 repetition. Though not to words alone did he confine 
 his lips. Again and again did they seek hers; and the 
 store of honey he found there must have been inex- 
 haustible, for it was two o'clock ere either of them.
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 5! 
 
 had realized that this was the widow's hour for dinner. 
 Happy Bardell! We have given him to taste of the 
 sweetest fruits e'er plucked by tired hands from the 
 dusty wayside of life. Let us felicitate him. Nor envy 
 him; for he is yet to pluck fruit as black as this is 
 golden!
 
 Among the public duties imposed upon the city 
 clerk of Boston, was that of reading in the First 
 Church, in Chauncey Place, the bans of all citizens 
 who had finally determined upon taking the fatal or 
 felicitous step toward the marriage-altar. This inter- 
 esting business was conducted once a week, at the reg- 
 ular Thursday lectures of the Reverend Mr. Frothing- 
 ham. These lectures were then held in the basement 
 of the church; and, whether they were found especially 
 delectable by the members of his flock, or because of 
 the announcements that were always made by the 
 clerk, the attendance was invariably large. 
 
 On the Thursday after Mr. BardelPs successful in- 
 terview with Clara Phillips, the lecture and the "draw- 
 ing card" referred to filled every seat in the hall; and 
 one of these seats was occupied by the captain him- 
 self, a usual circumstance, since he was a good Uni- 
 tarian, and a valued member of the First Church. 
 
 The last announcement made that morning by the 
 clerk was of special interest to the captain : to- wit, the 
 bans of Mr. Howard Bardell, late of England, etc., 
 and Miss Clara Phillips, of the town of Lynn. 
 
 The genial face of the ex-officer exhibited the utmost 
 satisfaction; and when his friends, at the close of 
 
 52
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 53 
 
 service, crowded about him with their congratulations, 
 he received them with so jaunty an air as to call forth 
 from the jovial minister another sly jest at his ex- 
 pense. 
 
 As soon as he could extricate himself from his nu- 
 merous well-wishers, the captain hurried off toward 
 his home, oblivious of everything save the bright con- 
 tentment that filled his heart. 
 
 Ah, if only some good genius had whispered to him 
 as he went on his way, softly whistling to himself 
 
 "Turn back, look upon the wretch who remains be- 
 hind in the vestry-room, listen to his mutterings, and 
 be warned!" 
 
 But no good genius was there at his elbow. Or if 
 there was it fled before the three Furies, who were pur- 
 suing the unconscious victim of infernal plots, and 
 whose refrain he could not hear 
 
 "Say that we may not prey at will on Man; 
 Nor glut our famished hate on human woe: 
 Say that the Laws are fixed; say that the plan 
 Of the wide Universe naught can o'erthrow: 
 Yet, though immutable, we those laws fulfill; 
 And, changing nothing, reap our harvest still. " 
 
 But we, who are ubiquitous, who may pass at will 
 through stone walls and through open windows with 
 equal facility, will retrace our steps and enter the 
 basement of the old church which the aged janitor is 
 closing after the last of the congregation, and creep 
 into the vestry-room 
 
 Ah! 
 
 Bending over the register in which the records are
 
 54 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 kept, and which the clerk has thrust into the drawer 
 of the sexton's desk, is a figure as familiar to us as it 
 is repulsive. 
 
 The figure of Joel Thorp. 
 
 With the stub of a carpenter's pencil he laboriously 
 copies the entry made but half an hour ago, upon a 
 book-leaf, thrusts it into the greasy pocket of his sur- 
 tout, and shuffles to a stool, upon which he seats him- 
 self. 
 
 In a few minutes, listening the while, with corru- 
 gated forehead and pursed lips, he hears the old janitor 
 leave the hall, and now he is alone so he thinks to 
 himself, forgetting the God whose sanctuary he is pro- 
 faning. 
 
 Now he communes with himself aloud; a strange 
 habit with such characters, but a frequent one. Vi- 
 cious people are secretive, and much of their time is 
 spent in solitude. It is in solitude that their fierce 
 and restless brains are busiest; and they make com- 
 panions of themselves when thus alone, carrying on a 
 dialogue between the outer and the inner self. 
 
 "Coin' to be married, goin' to be married," mut- 
 tered Joel, his bushy head bent down, his hands spread 
 out on his threadbare knees. They were odd-looking 
 members, those hands of his. Large, coarse and red, 
 with the fingers bent inward, toward the horny palms, 
 they resembled claws, and the long black nails were 
 like talons. 
 
 The subject of his thoughts interested him strange- 
 ly; his dark face worked itself into a caricature; the 
 claw-like hands were dug fiercely into "the patches of
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 55 
 
 his trousers, as though he imagined they were tearing 
 the flesh of Howard Bardell, the skipper of the "Arma- 
 dillo, " who had put him in irons, who had turned him 
 over to the master-at-arms to be lashed with stripes 
 twenty of them on his bare back; the man who had 
 caused him to lose an eye, increasing his ugliness, 
 maiming him forever. 
 
 The scene on board the ship came back to him; the 
 hiss of the lash sung its song of torment into his ears 
 again; the chill of the iron manacles on his wrists 
 crept around them again like the clammy coils of a 
 snake; the blow of the cutlass maddened him again, 
 and he saw the flash that scorched his very brain, at 
 the moment the light went out of his stricken eye 
 forever! 
 
 His broad, strong teeth were ground together until 
 they cracked; his lips were drawn back from them un- 
 til a ghastly, demoniacal grin overspread his face; his 
 single eye glowed with a greenish light in the gloom 
 of the shaded room; and at length, convulsed by the 
 fury of his thoughts, he screamed but the sound was 
 driven back into his thick throat 
 
 "Curse him, curse him! And the kid curses on 
 both! Blast my soul, but I'll follow them, both of 
 'em, till they're dead dead! " 
 
 Rising from the stool, as he ground out this omi-'- 
 nous threat through his clenched teeth, he went 
 stealthily out into the school room, unbolted a door, 
 and let himself into the street. 
 
 Making his way toward the north end of the city, 
 he entered a dingy wooden building, the upper story
 
 56 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 of which projected several feet over the lower, and 
 pushed his way through an unlatched door into a 
 poorly furnished room, where sat, in rigid attitude, 
 and silent expectation, two women. 
 
 "So you're back, are ye?" exclaimed one of them, 
 with a feverish glance of inquiry in her inky eyes; inky, 
 because there was absolutely nothing white around 
 the pupil, the whole optic being of a mottled black 
 color, and standing out of an ashen-colored face. 
 
 "It looks like I was." 
 
 Joel had shuffled into the room and slouched into 
 a chair, a malignant and meaning smile playing in the 
 corners of his sinister mouth. 
 
 "You've been longer than common, ".complained the 
 woman, whose curiosity was evidently excited and her 
 temper irritated by his manner. 
 
 "Some things are more important than others." 
 
 "Of course. What's up?" 
 
 The navvy's going to be married, sure enough." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "To the milk-faced girl-teacher." 
 
 "Well, that ain't news. We knew it," grumbled 
 the woman. 
 
 "Gad! I could prevent it, though," muttered Joel 
 with a vicious chuckle. 
 
 "You could prevent it!" sneered the woman. 
 
 "Mebbe." 
 
 "Mebbe, " snarled she, "don't you know? You had 
 a mind of your own oncet. Until he was your boss. 
 But then you was his slave " 
 
 "Shut up, blast ye!"
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 57 
 
 Joel made a threatening gesture, at which the wo- 
 man shrugged her shoulders contemptuously. 
 
 "Curse him!" muttered he, as if in soliloquy; "I 
 feel them blows yet. " 
 
 "But they ain't paid for," sneered the woman, with 
 a glitter in her inky eyes; "an* it's more'n two years 
 since ye got 'em." 
 
 Joel looked moodily at the homespun carpet. 
 
 "Yer right," said he, with his teeth set; "it's an 
 old account; but I'll pay good interest on't. " 
 
 "How' 11 ye do it?" snarled the woman; "not by 
 talkin' to yourself every night an' broodin' over it." 
 
 "Leave that to me." And, turning suddenly to the 
 other, evidently a much younger woman than the first, 
 although she wore a thick veil wrapped about her face, 
 totally concealing all save her eyes, "I want you to 
 do your part." 
 
 "I'm doing it." 
 
 The words were spoken quietly, and the voice had 
 none of the grating harshness so conspicuous in that 
 of her companion. 
 
 "Yes, you're doin' it," growled Joel, "an' you've 
 done it well so far." 
 
 "When is the wedding to be?" suddenly inquired the 
 elder woman. 
 
 "In six weeks." 
 
 "An* you'll let it happen?" observed the woman, 
 with a mocking laugh. 
 
 "Yes!" shouted Joel, rising suddenly to his feet, 
 and extending his claw-like hand before him; "I'll let 
 it happen; an' as soon as it does, I'll put a scorpion 
 in his nest!"
 
 Joel Thorp had gone into the business of pawn- 
 broking, soon after his inauspicious landing at Boston, 
 and had opened a shop near the north end of Charter 
 Street, where he would, as he supposed, be less sub- 
 jected to the espionage of the officers of the law than 
 in any more populous district of the city; and here he 
 at once engaged in a questionable traffic with the 
 sailors who at that time resorted to that uninviting lo- 
 cality. It mattered nothing to Joel who his customers 
 were, what they brought, or where they obtained the 
 goods they offered him; his only concern being to loan 
 as low a per cent of their value as the necessities of 
 the individual or his own shrewdness effected. He 
 soon began to do a thriving business; and feeling the 
 need of a helpmate, he looked around him for a suit- 
 able and willing person to fill that tender and conjugal 
 position. Such a person he found in the supposed 
 widow of a sailor, Mrs Anne Mock, a gaunt and harsh- 
 featured woman of forty his own age and possessed 
 of "extr'nary conwictions," if we may accept his state- 
 ment concerning the qualities which induced him to 
 bestow upon her "his 'and and 'eart, likewise his 
 'umble 'ome at Copp's Hill." 
 
 His parental instincts had led him to consult his 
 
 58
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 59 
 
 son and daughter before making these numerous and 
 important proffers to "Hannie, " and much to his re- 
 lief, after a somewhat stormy interchange of ideas be- 
 tween the three, Martha withdrew her objections to 
 the match, on condition that she was allowed to take 
 a situation as nurse to the children of a Dorchester 
 family, which had been offered her; while Silas stip- 
 ulated that the necessary equipment and stipend to 
 enable him to attend the English High School should 
 be forthcoming before the interesting event came off. 
 
 These domestic arrangements having been amicably 
 made and concluded, the formidable "widder" had 
 been led to the altar, resplendent in a costume of her 
 own designing, out of materials furnished from the 
 pawn shop, and had thence carried her convictions to 
 the superannuated ' 'ome on the 'ill," the classical 
 name it received from the lady herself. 
 
 Mrs. Mock was a woman of great spirit; and she 
 fiercely espoused the cause of the Thorp household 
 against the "skipper and his kid, on princerple," al- 
 beit she had not received a strictly true history of the 
 one-sided feud from her cautious and secretive spouse; 
 and the surprising homage paid to her convictions by 
 that otherwise tyrannical individual led him usually to 
 adopt her suggestions in forming his plans, though he 
 sometimes attempted a brief rebellion against her hec- 
 toring. 
 
 Martha had left the parental rooi to 'fill the situa- 
 tion of nurse, and Silas had entered the High School, 
 some time previous to the events recorded in the last 
 chapter. But Silas had also changed his domicile to
 
 6O DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 the genial hearth of the janitor of the school build- 
 ing; so that the " 'ome on the 'ill" now" sheltered but 
 three persons, the third being a boy of ten years of 
 age, whom Joel called his nephew. 
 
 Silas had made his preparations to remove absolutely 
 from the precincts of Copp's Hill without consulting 
 his father; and only upon the evening of his departure 
 did he seek the latter for the purpose of proclaiming 
 his emancipation. 
 
 This interview took place while Mrs. Thorp was 
 temporarily absent on a visit to her old neighborhood; 
 so that the coast was entirely clear for such mutual 
 confidences as father and son might feel disposed or 
 deem it advisable to exchange. 
 
 "Guv'ner, " began Silas, as the two sat in the front 
 room of their home, that evening, ''I've fixed it with 
 the janitor at the school-house to help him in his 
 work, and he's to give me bed and board for it." 
 
 "Wot?" 
 
 Joel looked up, dumfounded. 
 
 "Ycu heard me, didn't you?" 
 
 "I heerd somethin* like a joke, I think," rejoined 
 his father, savagely. 
 
 "I mean it," said Silas, sententiously. 
 
 "Ye'll not do it." 
 
 "I will. It's all fixed, I tell you." 
 
 "Do it an' I'll stop the chowder," roared the sire, 
 growing red with anger. 
 
 "Well," grumbled the boy, sullenly, "I'll get an ed- 
 ucation somehow." 
 
 Silas had all the dogged traits and perseverance of
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 6 1 
 
 his father; but he had also an ambition which would 
 seem surprising after our acquaintance with Joel. 
 
 "How'll ye get it, ye whelp?" shouted the latter. 
 
 "I'll get it," repeated he. 
 
 The boy grew animated, as he made this confident 
 answer, and further astonished his irascible parent 
 by informing him that the janitor would give him his 
 board and bed, and one suit of clothes a year, for 
 choring, in addition to other work he was to do. The 
 cold eyes of the youth shone with as much exultation 
 as he was capable of evincing, and Joel, eyeing him 
 askance, felt it would be useless to continue the con- 
 test. 
 
 Chuckling softly to himself, he turned toward his 
 rebellious offspring, and with an admiring wink, ob- 
 served amiably, 
 
 "Well, ye air a cute un, Sile; an" as for me, w'y 
 I've nothink more to say. But," suddenly looking 
 grave, "wot'll ye do with yure eddication wen ye get it, 
 huh?" 
 
 "I'll climb up on it, somehow. Maybe I'll be a tutor 
 in some gentleman's house." 
 
 "Good again," chuckled his thoughtful parent. 
 Then, after some reflection, his steel-blue eye emitted 
 a spark, his thick hand smote his patched knee, and 
 he turned upon his son as though he would attack 
 him. 
 
 "Hold a bit! " growled he, "air ye going to forget 
 them two?" 
 
 The brows of the youth wrinkled, until his whole 
 visage resembled that of an old man; a demonish light
 
 62 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 danced in his eyes, and his voice even more plainly 
 revealed the implacable spirit within him: 
 
 "Forget them!" cried he, shrilly, "not till my heart 
 forgets to beat!" 
 
 "Brayvo, me lad," shouted Joel, clutching the boy's 
 arm. "An' now, sence ye've showed the true spirit, 
 I'll tell ye a secret. 'Taint a long yarn, but it's a in- 
 terestin' one. I told yure es-teemed an' wery intelligent 
 step-mother to stop at Broad Street an' Hamilton Av'- 
 noo, an' jaw that baker some more 'bout that dum 
 bill o' his; an' w'en she is a doin' that sort o' busi- 
 ness she's not likely to get through for some time; 
 besides she's a-wisitin' old cronies to-night; so, as 
 nobody's around except the boy, it's a good time to 
 tell ye." 
 
 "Don't she know it, then?" demanded Silas, 'with a 
 grin of blended surprise and amusement. 
 
 Joel pursed his thick lips, rolled his one eye 
 toward the ceiling, and clawed at his chin. 
 
 "Sile," said he, confidentially, "she don't. Yersee," 
 he continued, apologetically, "it were, as I may say, 
 a hanty-nuptial agreement." 
 
 "A what?" 
 
 "W'y, it were this way: 
 
 "W'en I took your respected an' wery intelligent 
 step-mother to my buzzum, (because of her conwic- 
 tions, ye understand,) she said to me, sensible-like, 
 'Joel, there's one thing more to be agreed betwixt us, 
 yet.' An' I said, 'Hannie, if it's about the boy a-livin' 
 at 'ome, I can't consent. His father's roof is always 
 open to him '"
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 63 
 
 "Through the chimney, hey?" laughed Silas, who 
 had glimmers of wit. 
 
 'An' I said," pursued Joel, dignifiedly ignoring the 
 levity of his hopeful, "that my 'arth was allus here for 
 him to warm himself by. An' I said, as for the gyurl, 
 w'y, she's perwided for, an's gone to live independent 
 seein' she thought she could not make her way proper 
 in the world w'ich is all before her by bein' too 
 familiar with her own fam'ly, w'ich wos nat'ral, an' I 
 didn't say no. But yure step-mother shot into the 
 conwersation, an' said, says she, " 'Taint about the 
 younguns, ijit. ' (She's orful playful, yure es-teemed 
 an'wery intelligent step-mother is, an' her langwitch is 
 is allus forcible.) 'It's this,' says she, 'you 'ave lived 
 up to date, an' so 'ave I, likewise. Wot's past out is 
 dead, an' wot's dead is buried or orter be. Wery 
 well, you dig nothink up, an' / dig nothink up, an 
 there won't be no trouble atween us in the futur.' Is 
 it agreed, deary?' An' I said, 
 
 " 'Hannie, I'll put yure conwictions against any 
 man's judgment even m'own; it's agreed, an' mum's 
 the word.'" 
 
 "So ye see, me lad, I needn't rake a muck-heap for 
 her benefits, need I?" 
 
 "Cours,e not. Now, tell me the secret." 
 
 "Wery well," assented his father, drawing his chair 
 closer to the other, and assuming a manner quite at 
 variance with his recent humor. "Listen close, lad; 
 an' don't say nothink till I'm through." * 
 
 "Wait a minute. Is there blood and murder in it?" 
 
 "Blood enough, an' murder enough, but nobody's
 
 64 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 blood wos seen, an' nobody wos hung for murder," 
 returned Joel, with a vicious leer. "Now I'll tell 
 it"
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 AN OATH OF VENGEANCE SEALED 
 
 "Afore I married yure mother, Sile, I wos a boss 
 carpenter in the ag-ed town of Carlisle, Cumberland, 
 in the ex-treme north of England, with all its ports 
 on the Irish Sea, an' Liverpool its nearest great un. 
 Away down at the ex-treme south end of England is 
 the ag-ed town of Winchester, in Hampshire, with all 
 its ports on the English Channel, an' Southampton its 
 nearest great un. There were not much wisitin' a- 
 twixt the two ex-treme parts in them times, except in 
 tradin' lines, an' only the gentry of the two ends 
 knowed much about wot wos goin' on in eye'iher. 
 Stick that in yure mind, Sile, an' remember, 'cos it 
 has summut to do with this story. 
 
 "Well, while I wos a-workin'at me trade in Carlisle, 
 I made chums with Jem Crouch, an' both of us bein' 
 forehanded we went to live at the Royal Inn, the best 
 in Carlisle. Jem were a barge-owner, runnin' on the 
 Solway Firth and up the Eden River to Carlisle. Him 
 an' me wos both thirty-six an' unmarried. But Jem 
 had two orful purty sisters a-workin' as maids at the 
 Royal. One of 'em wos Sary, a widderwith one child, 
 a be-yootiful one-year old gyurl, the father 'aving been 
 a fine gentleman wot went off to France an' married 
 
 an' never made no perwision for them, an' died there. 
 
 65
 
 66 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 "The other gyurl was Marthy that wos yure mother 
 we mourn her loss. I took to Marthy, an' she took 
 to me; an' arter a bit the bans wos read in church, 
 reg'lar, an' the weddin' wos to come off immediate. 
 
 "Ten days afore the happy ewent, a great misfortin' 
 'appened. It's a four hours' walk from Carlisle up to 
 Penrith, an' a hour's walk from Penrith to Greystoke 
 Castle. Well, one day some of the gentry from the 
 Castle come down to Carlisle to look through the old 
 tower w'ere Queen Mary Stuart wos took an' locked 
 up after she refugeed in Carlisle, 'avin' been defeated 
 at Langside, an' good Queen Bess not wishin' to 'ave 
 her at liberty no longer in England. 
 
 "The people of the Castle wos related to Queen 
 Mary, an' the wisitors wot came with them wos curi- 
 ous to see where the Howard blood suffered, 
 
 "One of the gentlemen wos Mr. Walter Walraven, 
 of Winchester, an' his lady wos with him. One wos 
 Captain Howard Bardell, the skipper of the Armadillo, 
 a bachelor. He wos a cousin of the master of the 
 Castle. There wos some more ladies two. 
 
 "Well, it rained in the forenoon, an' kept it up in 
 the afternoon, an' the party concluded to take rooms 
 at the Royal over night, an' drive back next day. 
 
 "The ladies didn't have no maids with 'em, but the 
 landlord said he could supply em with the best, for 
 that night. 
 
 "The next mornin' there were a great ho an' hallo 
 from the lady Walraven 'bout 'aving been robbed in 
 the night of her waluable jewel-box. It wos a ex- 
 citin' time then! Mr. Walraven wos excited, an' the
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 67 
 
 skipper from Liverpool wos excited. They said the 
 jewels wos worth twelve thousand pounds an' wos heir- 
 looms. Well, Mr. Walraven an' the skipper said 
 there wos thieves among the servants, an' they must 
 all be took into the dining-hall one at a time an' ex- 
 amined. 
 
 "It wos done; an' him an' Captain Bardell wos the 
 examiners an' the judges. 
 
 "Jem an' me wos waitin' out in the stable-yard for 
 the gyurls, not fearin' nothink but anxious-like. After 
 a long time, yure mother come out, cryin'. 
 
 "'Wot is it?" says Jem, frownin' because Sary wasn't 
 with her. 
 
 "'They've charged it on us/' sobs yure mother. 
 
 "'W'y?' says Jem, cold as ice, an' lookin' black. 
 
 "'Cause I helped Mrs. Walraven in her rooms last 
 night, an' Sary undressed her, an' was in there after 
 she were asleep, foldin' her things an' tidyin' up. An' 
 I'm discharged,' says she, 'an' Sary has got to go to 
 jail with a bailiff.' Then yure mother broke down and 
 Jem went off to see after the beastly business. 
 
 "Sary went to jail, denyin' she wos a thief, an' I- 
 married yure mother, an' six months after that Sary 
 died of jail fever. Then Jem, who had been a prowl- 
 in' round the country, never speakin' to nobody, sold 
 out his intrust in the barge, an' dusted. Nobody 
 knowed w'ere he went to then. 
 
 "I never had no peace with yure mother, she took 
 on so hard about bein' disgraced an' nobody speakin' 
 to her; but she were that gamey that she wouldn't 
 leave Carlisle, an' we stayed it out. But w'en her
 
 68 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 sister died she give up. You wos born, an' a year 
 an' twenty-three months after that yure sister wos 
 born. Then yure poor mother said, 'There's one more 
 to bear the burden of my disgrace,' an' purty soon that 
 burden killed her. An' her death wos at the doers of 
 Mr. Walraven an' the skipper. 
 
 "Afore Sary died, she sent for a pious old soul wot 
 wos allus comin' to see the prisoners in the jail, an' 
 she begged him to 'dopt her gyurl. He had no little 
 un of his own, an' he took the child, 'aving took an 
 amazin' fancy to the purty, old-fashioned chick. Then 
 Sary told him as how she had all by herself wrote 
 down the history of the robbery, she bein' a perse- 
 cuted wictim an' would he swear to take it all sealed 
 up, an' deliver it to a bank in Carlisle, an' bring her 
 the bank's receipt showin' they wos to hold it an' de- 
 liver it to her darter at twenty no, one and twenty. 
 An' she would pay the bank for the service, an' he 
 said yes. 
 
 "So she give him the package, an' it wos put in a 
 bank an' she got the receipt, an' old Piety took the 
 gyurl home. Then Sary died. 
 
 "After awhile, Jem come back, sullen as ever. He 
 got a sitiwation up at Greystoke Castle, an' I quarreled 
 with him; but he said curious-like, 'Wait.' So he 
 went off to be gardener there. 
 
 "That summer there were some wisitors up there an* 
 Mrs. Walraven were one of 'em. One night there 
 were a ball; it was in the summerest kind of weather, 
 an' Mrs. W. went out into the grounds about mid- 
 night, all alone, to cool off a bit. But Mrs. W.
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 69 
 
 never come into the castle again. Never mind wot 
 wos done to find her, they didn't find nothin', an' it's 
 a mystery to this day to most. 
 
 "A month after the sad ewent, Jem left his sitiwa- 
 tion. He said it were not interestin' no more, an' be- 
 sides, he didn't feel comfortable up there no more. 
 He went off to Guernsey, an' smuggled awhile, nearly 
 starvin', an' then showed up again. 
 
 "One night Jem wrote me a letter (he were a good 
 scholard) an' 'Walraven's still a grievin,' he says, 
 'an' he's goin' to America, in a fortnight, on the Arma- 
 dillo, which is the ship of Captain Bardell, bound 
 from Liverpool to Boston. If you remember wot I 
 remember, meet me next Saturday night at ten, at 
 Gretna. ' 
 
 "Well, we planned to come over on the Armadillo, 
 to keep them two company. We kadn't heerd before we 
 shipped, that Mr. Walraven had a child. It had 
 never come to Cumberland with him an' his wife, an' 
 no gossip come to us from tother end of England. 
 We wos astonished w'en we saw the kid; but we wos 
 pleased, too. 
 
 "Well, ye recklek I set ye to spyin' purty soon arter 
 we wos nested, an' yure obserwations were a success. 
 Our operations wos not. There's a deal o' difference, 
 Sile, 'twixt obserwations and operations. Sometimes 
 there's a worm in the happle, w'ich we don't obser- 
 wate. There were a worm inhour'n. The money-box 
 got us into trouble; all a-owin' to the worm Dane 
 Walraven. Yure aweer wot 'appened from then on. 
 
 "There's one more thing, howsumdever, w'ich is
 
 7O DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 a burr on my mind, an' w'ile I'm limbered I'll include 
 it in my remarks. It air this: Walter Walraven come 
 on shore that night with his 'ead queer. 'Ow do ye 
 suppose it 'appened? The skipper said it were from 
 jammin' against the rocks. Two indiwiduals know, 
 me an' Jem. Lean for'ard, an' I' 11 whisper it to ye" 
 
 Joel had told his story with a tense strain upon his 
 features and his voice, leaning forward at the last, to 
 impart some black secret to his depraved son which 
 he dared not reveal to the walls. His hands had 
 rested upon his patched knees, grasping them rigidly, 
 his one eye had glowed and darkened by turns, his 
 dark face broadening and contracting as his thoughts 
 and feelings changed from moment to moment. 
 
 When he had finished, he drew back his chair, and 
 stared moodily down at the rough boards under his 
 hobnailed boots. 
 
 Silas had been absolutely mute during the slow re- 
 cital; but not from stolidity. His boyish face was 
 almost a reflection of his father's in its vindictive ex- 
 pression. 
 
 At length, Joel lifted his bushy head, and peered 
 darkly out of his single eye, the empty socket of the 
 other giving his ugly face at the moment a most weird 
 and evil aspect. 
 
 "Now, me lad," said he, slowly, and breathing hard, 
 "do ye understand yure bounden dooty to yer mother?" 
 
 "Curse 'em, yes!" came the quick response, and the 
 boy's hands were clenched convulsively. 
 
 "An* do ye remember the drubbin' the d d skipper 
 o' the Armadillo give to ye, because ye wouldn't stay 
 below, like a dog?"
 
 DANE WALRAVEN *JI 
 
 Silas uttered a sort of moan but quickly suppressed 
 it. 
 
 "I'll always remember it, curse him!" he said, 
 fiercely. 
 
 "An' remember the bloody stripes the d d skipper 
 made his ruffians give yure father, degradin' 'im for- 
 ever?" 
 
 "I remember," muttered Silas. 
 
 "An' the losin' of m' eye, w'ich the said skipper 
 knocked out, like a brute as he were?" 
 
 "I remember," again repeated the boy, with a somber 
 look, but quivering now with conflicting passions which 
 his father was deliberately stirring up in his young 
 breast. 
 
 "An' ye remember, lad, who wos the cause of all 
 them misfortins? Sile, /'/ wos the kid!" 
 
 Silas sprang from his chair, his youthful face livid, 
 distorted. 
 
 With a vicious smile, Joel noted the effect of his 
 eloquence. He had wrought the boy into a frenzy. 
 He extended his crooked fingers. 
 
 "Swear that ye'll help me against 'em to the 
 death," said he, huskily. 
 
 And promptly the answer was hissed back: 
 
 "To the death!"
 
 CHAP PER XII 
 THE MARSHAL'S VISIT TO THE ASYLUM 
 
 The corporate existence of the city of Boston began 
 in 1822. Its growth during the ten years following 
 had been steady and substantial. The population was 
 then about eighty thousand. The area of the oblong 
 peninsula reaching from Massachusetts Bay southwest 
 to Roxbury embraced three hills Beacon, rising to 
 an elevation of one hundred and ten feet on the west; 
 Fort, an eminence of eighty feet, facing the harbor on 
 the east; and Copp's, rising some fifty feet above tide- 
 water, at the north end. These hills have long since 
 melted down to the merest slopes. 
 
 The "Mill Dam," now called Western Avenue, and 
 reaching westwardly from Beacon Street, was not then 
 the broad and noble causeway over which hundreds of 
 fine equipages now are hourly seen, but a desolate ap- 
 pearing roadway, with modest and uninviting houses 
 accentuating its sides and extending beyond through 
 the now beautiful and populous suburb of Brookline. 
 
 West Boston bridge had been built, extending from 
 the intersection of Cambridge and Charles Streets to 
 the shady lanes of Cambridge; another, Canal bridge, 
 also connecting this suburb at Lechmere Point with 
 the city at Brighton Street. North and Charles River 
 bridges, at the north end, reached over to Charlestown ; 
 
 72
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 73 
 
 the Sea Street free bridge crossed the channel to South 
 Boston, and another free bridge gave the same con- 
 nection, crossing from Front Street at the narrowest 
 part of the city at that point a mere neck reaching 
 from Front on the east to Tremont on the west. Front 
 Street is now called Harrison Avenue; and a glance 
 at a modern map of Boston will give the curious a sur- 
 prise, when it is seen that the enterprise of its citi- 
 zens has robbed the waters of all that domain lying 
 east of Harrison Avenue and west of Tremont, at 
 their junction with Dover. Tremont for six hundred 
 feet faced directly on the "back water" to the west; 
 while Charles, from Boyleston to Beacon, faced and 
 bordered the "city land," a dreary twenty acre tract of 
 marsh west of the common, and sloping into the re- 
 ceiving basin. 
 
 The length of the city was then about three miles; 
 hence, the entire surveillance of all parts q>f the town 
 was not so difficult a task for its guardians as a single 
 district now is. But the duties imposed upon them by 
 the council were such as would have taxed the utmost 
 capacity of the man with the seven-leagued boots to 
 perform in modern Boston. It was the special duty of 
 the marshal to travel over and through every street 
 and lane in the city at least once each week, on a tour 
 of discovery and of inspection. 
 
 Now, the marshal lived in the north end of the town; 
 and he usually started on his rounds at eight o'clock 
 in the morning. The most isolated of his routes was 
 Copp's Hill. That region was then chiefly devoted to 
 burial purposes, and the few habitations in the vicin-
 
 74 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 ity of the graveyards were those of the humbler classes, 
 principally; the houses were mostly of wood, and were 
 of an antique and austere style, which added much 
 to the gloomy aspect of the locality. On the west 
 side of the graveyard embankment the river then ran 
 close in-shore, its eternal monologue sounding like a 
 requiem, as it washed the sand from the rocks below. 
 
 In this dreary district, at the corner of Salem and 
 Charter Streets, stood the ancient three story brick 
 mansion-house of old Governor Phipps. The build- 
 ing was erected prior to the year 1695, but was still 
 in an excellent state of preservation. It was now used 
 as an Asylum for Indigent Boys; and the institution 
 was presided over by "Mother Wolcott," a most esti- 
 mable and large-hearted lady as matron, assisted by a 
 score of carefully selected and trained teachers and 
 attendants. 
 
 Here, boys who had no means, and no relatives, 
 were provided with homes, and trained to intelligent 
 and useful employments; and the name, character, and 
 location of the asylum had become familiar to every 
 humble citizen in the city. 
 
 Among those who sometimes looked in, whether 
 out of curiosity or a desire to see what accommoda- 
 tions were afforded the inmates, was the marshal. He 
 was a benevolent man, and had taken a fancy to stop 
 at the asylum at intervals, to chat with the matron, 
 and hear the sometimes interesting and pathetic stories 
 of the unfortunate waifs who from time to time sought 
 its protecting walls. 
 
 On a sharp January morning following the events
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 75 
 
 recently recorded, the marshal left his home at an un- 
 usually early hour, his business taking him on that 
 particular day to Copp's Hill. Feeling the nip of the 
 wind, as he passed the asylum, he decided to call on 
 the matron, and enjoy a little toasting over the great 
 heater in her comfortable reception room. 
 
 Before he reached the steps, however, another visi- 
 tor had ascended them, with a timid and hesitating 
 manner, as if doubtful of an agreeable reception, and 
 raising the iron knocker, had sent a peal through the 
 halls that promptly brought the matron herself to the 
 door. 
 
 Opening a wicket in the center panel, through which 
 she could converse freely, but which did not admit of 
 so much a^ a glimpse of the small object standing on 
 the step without, Mother Wolcott sharply hailed the 
 supposed tradesman who had disturbed her at her 
 breakfast: 
 
 "Well, now, good man, what brings you here at this 
 hour? Have you been running a race with the sun? 
 If you have, you're ahead of him. But it's too early 
 for trading, man; come later." 
 
 But to this vigorous greeting there was no response. 
 Somewhat surprised at this, and hearing no move- 
 ment outside, the matron's curiosity prompted her to 
 unbolt and reconnoiter. 
 
 "Sure," she murmured, as she rattled the bolt-chain, 
 "it cannot be the old governor himself, coming to pot- 
 ter about the old homestead, or to call us bodies to 
 account for using it public!" 
 
 But the person who confronted her, when the great
 
 76 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 door swung back, was somewhat more tangible than 
 the old governor's ghost. It was a small boy, shabbily 
 dressed, shivering with the cold (it was the memo- 
 rable 27th day of January) and blowing his frosted 
 fingers with blue and stiffened lips. 
 
 The matron glanced at him keenly, and ejaculated: 
 
 "Mercy on me! It's another of 'em!" 
 
 The boy had taken off his thin and threadbare cap, 
 and was holding it in his red hands with as much 
 grace as if he had been a gentleman's son. Indeed, his 
 frank though half-frozen face bore the stamp of natural 
 gentility; and had he been a well-fed and well-clothed 
 boy, he would have been in appearance as well as 
 manners "a gentleman's son." 
 
 The matron stared at the curly head, as it bent with 
 a respectful bow, and into the clear blue eyes that 
 were lifted inquiringly and wistfully to her motherly 
 face, and held out her plump hand. 
 
 "Come in, child," in a voice that was musical to 
 the shivering lad, though a little shrill to the servants 
 inside; and she drew him into the warm hall, and 
 closed the door. 
 
 During this incident, the marshal had stood on the 
 pavement a few yards away, an unobserved but a de- 
 cidedly interested observer. There was a very pleas- 
 ant smile on his own red face, as he turned away; and 
 a thoughtful look came stealing into it, as he said to 
 himself: 
 
 "That boy's face takes right hold of me it does so!" 
 And after he had walked briskly forward for a dozen 
 yards or so, he concluded his soliloquy with emphasis: 
 "Yes, I'm going to see more of this I am so."
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 77 
 
 A dozen times that day he thought of the lad at the 
 asylum door; and that night when he entered his child- 
 less but pleasant home, he said to his good-natured 
 wife, to whom he had told the incident while they sat 
 looking into the fire: 
 
 "Somehow, I feel as if it was fortunate that I saw 
 it;" and then he added, half-musingly : 
 
 "I'm going to see more of this." 
 
 What was it that impressed him? He could not 
 have told himself. But, if his meaning was not pro- 
 phetic his words were: he was going to see a great 
 deal more of "it."
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 CHARLIE VINCENT'S STORY 
 
 The ordering of human events, if confined to one 
 sentient and occult power, is an operation of intelli- 
 gence, and calls for the exercise of wisdom which 
 none save an omnipotent God can be presumed to 
 possess. Accidental meetings, acts at "hap-hazard, " 
 chance occurrences, casualties, all these are but hol- 
 low phrases, exposing the feeble subterfuges to which 
 our helpless minds resort in the hopeless effort to ex- 
 plain life's happenings. The trite reflection that great 
 events often find their causation in a bundle of trivial 
 circumstances, is constantly recurring to our minds, 
 when we see it again and again proven in our own and 
 others' lives; until at length the thinker ceases to say 
 of the most insignificant happening: 
 
 "It is of no consequence." 
 
 The unusual energy of the marshal on a frosty morn- 
 ing; the subtle (and perhaps self-unconscious) work- 
 ings of his mind which impelled his feet at a particular 
 moment in the direction of the asylum; the unknown 
 and perhaps innumerable concatenation of circum- 
 stances, inducements, and impulses which led the 
 friendless boy to the door of the refuge at the moment 
 the marshal reached it; the unexplainable interest of 
 the latter in the strange waif all these and many other 
 
 78
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 79 
 
 following circumstances led to the enactment of part 
 of a life-drama in which good and evil contended to 
 the death; and gave to the little waif at the door an 
 importance incalculable, in the life-struggle we are yet 
 to describe. 
 
 Let us now enter the warm and cheerful sitting- 
 room of Mother Wolcott, since the fate of this boy 
 concerns us, and learn what disposition she will make 
 of him. Be sure she will not turn him out into the 
 street again. She was not one of the army of every- 
 day saints who regard misfortune as a crime second 
 only to that of murder. 
 
 We find her holding his stiffened fingers in her warm 
 hands, and chafing them while she puts the necessary 
 questions in a voice at once gentle and sympathetic. 
 
 "Now, my child," she said, seating him near the 
 glowing stove fire, "you may tell me your errand, 
 though I think I know it." 
 
 The boy's voice was singularly musical, and it car- 
 ried in its tones the burden of a sorrow, as he an- 
 swered : 
 
 "If you please, ma'am, I was told that if I came here 
 and told all about myself, I could be taken care of." 
 
 The matron scrutinized him curiously. "What is 
 your name?" she asked quietly. 
 
 "Charlie Vincent, and I am eleven years old." 
 
 "Ah. Is that your raz/name?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, ma'am," replied the boy, opening his eyes 
 widely with 'surprise, and he added, reassuringly: 
 
 "I was born with it." 
 
 This naive remark, spoken with earnestness, brought
 
 So DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 a smile into the benevolent face. But she observed, 
 with perfect gravity: 
 
 "Indeed! Then it must be your very own." 
 
 "Yes, ma'am," gravely. 
 
 "Very well. Now, master Charlie, have ycu a mother 
 and father, or either?" 
 
 The boy looked down at his feet, his expressive 
 features clouding, as he murmured: 
 
 "Mother and father died ever so long ago." 
 
 "And you have no relations?" 
 
 "No, ma'am, but Joel Thorp he says he is my uncle 
 but he isn't." 
 
 "Where do you live?" 
 
 The matron's voice had grown a little tremulous. 
 The grave and subdued manner, the sad but honestly 
 brave little face, the evident intelligence, yet friend- 
 less appearance of the lad, all were eloquently appeal- 
 ing to her woman's heart, and drawing her to him. 
 
 "I did live with Joel Thorp," replied he, with a 
 visible shudder, "but I have runaway from him, and," 
 with a sudden defiance in his tone, "I won't go back 
 there again." 
 
 "And who is this Thorp?" 
 
 The boy's eyes flashed with indignation, as he an- 
 swered, vehemently: 
 
 "He's the baddest man in the whole world!" 
 
 "Ah? And where does this bad man live?" 
 
 "Right up at the end of this street Charter Street, 
 ma'am. But he keeps a pawnbroker's shop in it." 
 
 "And how did he come by you?" 
 
 "I was pawned to him," replied the boy, with ear- 
 nestness
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 8l 
 
 "What? Tell me all about it." 
 
 "Why, I'll just tell you how it was. You see, Joel 
 Thorp has a partner, and his name is Jemmy Crouch. 
 Well, I was workin' for Mr. Murray, the baket, at 
 the corner of Broad Street and Hamilton Avenue, and 
 Joel bought all his bread and cakes and pies there, 
 and never paid Mr. Murray any money, and they had 
 a quarrel. The morning after the quarrel Jem Crouch 
 came into the bakery. I never saw him before, and I 
 didn't know he was Joel Thorp's partner, and Mr. 
 Murray didn't either. Well, I had to sleep down in 
 the shop; and Jem Crouch was asking me about it, and 
 said it was too cold for a small boy like me. So he 
 said to Mr. Murray that he wanted a trusty lad, and 
 would he let me go for a month to work in an office 
 on the wharf. And Mr. Murray said yes, if I wanted 
 to. So I went with him ; but he took me to Joel Thorp's 
 shop up here, and said to Joel that he wanted to 
 pawn a boy. And Joel, he said all right, and they 
 laughed. Then Joel told me he was my uncle, and if 
 I ever said no, he'd cut my ears off, and maybe worse. 
 He wouldn't let me go out of the shop; and that 
 night Mr. Murray's house was burned up, and him 
 and Mrs. Murray and his three children were burned 
 up in it. Joel took my clothes and put them in the 
 shop, and gave me these old things, and watched me 
 like a cat, so T couldn't see or talk to anybody; and 
 he told me about the fire, and that I had no home but 
 his. I reckon he had been praying to the bad man 
 for the house to burn up, because he told Mr. Murray 
 when they quarreled that he would ruin him before
 
 82 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 the next sun was in China. Well, he made me do all 
 kinds of hard work, and near starved me. So, a boy 
 told me about this place; and I thought I would come 
 here, I won't go back there any more." 
 
 "And your name what is it?" 
 
 "Charlie Vincent." 
 
 "Does Joel Thorp know you were coming here?" 
 
 "Oh, no, ma'am!" exclaimed the lad, with a fright- 
 ened look, "&&& please don't tell him!" 
 
 "No, I will not tell him. So, that is the whole story, 
 is it?" 
 
 Charlie reflected a moment. 
 
 "That's all about me," he replied, "but Joel was 
 always talking with Jem Crouch most every night about 
 a man and a boy they hated, and were going to payoff 
 old scores. And when they talked of it they always 
 got excited, and said terrible things." 
 
 "Never mind, my child, you will stay here, now." 
 
 "Oh, ma'am, shall I, though?" cried the boy; and 
 springing from his seat he seized the matron's hand, 
 while his lips quivered painfully. His long-pent misery 
 flooded forth in sobs and tears now; and his little man- 
 ful breast relieved itself on the bosom of the first 
 friend he had found since his mother's life went out. 
 
 Within a week after this adoption, the marshal 
 called at the asylum, and made Charlie's acquaintance; 
 and at the end of his rather long sitting, the officer in- 
 formed Mother Wolcott that he intended to keep an 
 eye on the lad. 
 
 "And," he concluded, "maybe I'll train him to be 
 a detective yet!"
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 BOYLESTON BURIAL GROUND ROBBERS 
 
 On the morning of the 2gth day of April, the sun 
 rose blood-red over the sweltering city of Boston. At 
 noon, the temperature was ninety degrees, inside the 
 doorway of the City Hall. 
 
 In the Common, the trees and grass were as green as 
 in June; the flowers were blooming exuberantly, birds 
 were twittering overhead, and insects droning in the 
 drowsy air. 
 
 A feeling of languor pervaded the few who were 
 abroad in the sun; and the shops along Tremont 
 Street were deserted, the street silent. 
 
 At twelve o'clock of that phenomenally hot day, a 
 man and a woman entered the Common through the 
 central entrance from Tremont Street, and walked 
 slowly southward toward the Boyleston burial-ground, 
 where they seated themselves upon one of the wooden 
 benches near the Charles Street mall. 
 
 This little realm of the dead, originally a tract of 
 one acre wedged out of the extreme south end of the 
 Common, had been gradually encroached upon by the 
 living who made a broad footpath for "a short cut" 
 among the tombs; until finally the council had caused 
 the strip now running from Tremont to Charles to be 
 opened as a mall. There is now a considerable space 
 between the graveyard and the iron fence facing Boyle - 
 
 83
 
 84 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 ston Street; but at that date this mall had no exist- 
 ence. Otherwise, the aspect of the place has changed 
 but little. There are one hundred and fifty tombs in 
 this ancient enclosure; and within them repose the 
 dead of four generations. Within the iron fence, close 
 to the Beacon Street mall, and extending northward for 
 a considerable distance, is a grass-roofed terrace of 
 tombs with a central wall through its entire length, 
 dividing full length recesses. These recesses are 
 about four feet apart, and are secured on the outside 
 facing Beacon and Tremont Streets respectively by 
 square iron doors with strong locks. 
 
 On the stone coping over many of these mortuary 
 chambers he who reads may see the name of the pale 
 occupant cut in the stone or painted upon it, with 
 other solemn details, and always a number; but here 
 and there he will see nothing to indicate who lies 
 within the dark and grisly receptacle, nothing save 
 the mysterious number. 
 
 It was in front of one of these nameless apertures 
 that the two strangers had seated themselves. Not 
 strangers to us, however, for the single steel-blue eye 
 and empty socket in one of the faces unmistakably 
 belong to Joel Thorp, while the greenish-gray eyes of 
 the woman betray the identity of the former Mrs. 
 Mock, supposedly the wife now, of the master of the 
 'ome on the 'ill. Supposably, not certainly, as we 
 shall hereafter discover. 
 
 Now and again some fagged pedestrian, more observ- 
 ant or more suspicious than the rest, would cast a 
 sidelong glance at the pair, whose ill-favored counte-
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 85 
 
 nances would certainly have invited no man's con- 
 fidence, and generally excited aversion. These glances, 
 however, were entirely unheeded by the silent couple, 
 whose gaze remained steadily and intently fixed upon 
 the iron door, as though like ghouls they waited for it 
 to yawn and give up to them some ghastly prey. 
 
 A distant bell had slowly tolled the hour of one, 
 when the sharp eyes of the woman turned toward the 
 southwest entrance, approaching which were three men 
 bearing a plain wooden box. 
 
 In a moment she was on her feet. 
 
 "Get up!" she whispered, tugging at Joel's sleeve, 
 "we're too near. Let's walk around outside so that 
 we won't be noticed." 
 
 But Joel, who was oppressed by the heat, continued 
 to nod in his seat under the great elms, and muttered 
 vaguely : 
 
 "What for?" 
 
 Mrs. Thorp bent her angular body over him, grasped 
 him by the collar, and shrilled into his drowsy ear: 
 
 "Get up, you ijit! they're coming!" 
 
 Fully roused now, he rose and followed her out into 
 Boyleston Street, where they proceeded to promenade 
 slowly back and forth until the men had passed in, 
 when they walked around into Beacon Street, watch- 
 ing the particular iron door with feverish eagerness. 
 
 Meanwhile, the three men with the coffin-box had 
 deposited it, opened the door with a key, and drawn 
 from the chamber a long rosewood coffin covered with 
 a bluish mold. This they placed in the box, which 
 they were in the act of screwing down, when a police- 
 man confronted them.
 
 86 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 "What are you doing?" he demanded, suspiciously, 
 glancing from one to the other. 
 
 With perfect composure, one of the three, who had 
 been directing the others, answered: 
 
 "Moving a relative's remains." 
 
 "Whose?" persisted the inquisitive officer. 
 
 "Oh," retorted the other, flippantly, "corpses is all 
 alike, they ain't nothing and nobody's." 
 
 "Have you a permit to remove it?" 
 
 The policeman's scrutiny assumed a severity which 
 appeared to create a spasm in the breasts of Joel and 
 his wife; they crept closer to the iron fence, and list- 
 ened with increased eagerness. 
 
 With a sullen movement, the man addressed took 
 from his pocket a paper, which he handed to the 
 officer. The latter read it carefully through, passed it 
 back, and observed: 
 
 "It's signed by James Crouch, assistant superintend- 
 ent of burial-grounds. That ain't exactly regular, 
 but I s'pose it's all right." 
 
 "Of course," grumbled the other, thrusting the 
 paper back into his pocket, and re-adjusting the lid of 
 the box, which the policeman had pushed aside. 
 
 "It looks queer, though," muttered the latter. 
 
 "Queer, eh? Well, you don't think we're stealing 
 corpses, do you? Especially such stale ones as this 
 here, and in broad daylight, too." 
 
 "No, that wouldn't be likely," assented the officer, 
 moving away. 
 
 His suspicions would have had a lively reawakening, 
 had he noticed the couple peering in at him during
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 87 
 
 this colloquy; but the extraordinary heat had rendered 
 him as listless as it had others, and perhaps a little 
 indifferent, and he passed on slowly out of the grounds, 
 followed by the three gleaming eyes until he was out 
 of sight. 
 
 The manner of the watchers now changed completely 
 
 An exultant smile intensified the ugliness of both, 
 as they hurried away "from the fence. 
 
 "Everythink is all right, so far," chuckled Joel, as 
 they turned into Charle Street. 
 
 "Yes," responded Mrs. Thorp, dryly, "the hot sun 
 helped uncommon; it's kept people off the streets con- 
 sider'ble, an' encouraged 'em to mind their own busi- 
 ness them that is out. " 
 
 "Your conwictions wos right again, my dear," ob- 
 served Joel, with an admiring leer; "you told Jem to 
 have the permit ready, an' the men, so that the busi- 
 ness could be done w'en the weather wos fittest, w'ich 
 wos most intelligent, Mrs. Thorp, an' does honor to 
 yure conwictions." 
 
 The woman striding by his side scarcely heard this 
 flattering commentary. She was absorbed in thought. 
 
 "You saw the man put there?" she suddenly asked. 
 
 "With m* own eye." 
 
 "And you saw with 'your own eye' the medal on his 
 breast? " 
 
 "Hangin' by a gold chain." 
 
 The woman nodded her satisfaction. Then it's 
 hangin' there yet, an' 'twill prove it's him" she con- 
 cluded, grimly. 
 
 "Of course. An 1 now, about the witness at the other 
 end?"
 
 88 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 "Jem was to write to the girl; an' of course he's done 
 it." 
 
 "An' she'll go; she has ray blood an' temper, an' 
 she remembers."
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE GRAVE-DIGGERS AT CHESTNUT HILL 
 
 On the morning of the mysterious removal of the 
 coffin from the Boyleston Street burial-ground the as- 
 sistant superintendent sat in the office of his superior, 
 writing a letter. After he had finished, he took it in 
 both hands, turned himself in his chair with a squirm- 
 ing movement, and read it aloud, probably to hear 
 how it would sound. It bore no name at the top, but 
 began abruptly, and ran as follows: 
 
 "Go out to Chestnut Hill to the graveyard, to-morrow 
 night, one hour after dark. Pass along the avenue with 
 the reservoir on your left until you come to the bend 
 in the road. There turn into the burying-ground to 
 your right, and proceed until you come to three large 
 pine trees on your left. There to your right you will 
 see a square raised space enclosed by a gray stone base, 
 just beyond a long gray stone vault which juts out of a 
 mound and faces the path at that point. At the middle 
 of the front of the base there is an entrance to the 
 square enclosure, formed by a square stone slab with 
 three stone steps rising above it. Over a tomb in the 
 enclosure is a black urn; and cut in the facing slab is 
 a number 150 and a name also. (Note this descrip- 
 tion carefully.)
 
 90 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 "Sit down on the lowest of the three steps, and watch 
 the sunken ground running along past the three pine 
 trees. Two men will bring something there, and will 
 leave it under the trees. What you see must be re- 
 membered; you may have to swear that you saw it, 
 hereafter. Be careful, therefore, to take notice of every- 
 thing; and do you neither move nor speak while the 
 work is being done under the trees. Wait there, un- 
 til one of the two men comes to you, and says: 
 
 "'It is there.' 
 
 'then you will answer, 'I have seen all.' 
 
 
 
 "You will then return to the city, by the Gardener 
 road, as fast as you possibly can." 
 
 No name was signed to this mysterious epistle; but 
 at its close, there was a circle drawn in red ink, with 
 some unintelligible initials on the inside of the circle. 
 
 When the letter was enveloped and sealed, Mr. 
 Crouch called an office boy. 
 
 "Take this to number five hundred and thirty-two." 
 said he, "and come straight back here. Don't wait." 
 
 Three-quarters of an hour had elapsed, when the 
 boy returned. 
 
 "You stayed a long time," snarled the official. 
 
 "Well, she made me wait while she read it," ex- 
 plained the messenger. 
 
 "Oh, she did, eh? Well, how did she act?" 
 
 "She said she understood it, and would be there on 
 time; but she turned very pale, and kept drawing her 
 breath hard, and then she shoved the letter in the 
 bosom of her dress and hurried out of the house, and I 
 came away."
 
 DANE WALRAVEN gi 
 
 "Very well. Now take this one to Mr. Bardell, 
 at precisely nine o'clock to-night, and don't fail to de- 
 liver it to him, personally," putting another sealed 
 letter into the boy's hand. Then he buttoned his coat 
 tightly over his lean chest, and with an evil smile at 
 his own thoughts, left the building. 
 
 Eight o'clock that evening, one hour after dark, a 
 young woman wearing a black veil closely wrapped 
 about her head and face, turned into the burial-ground 
 at Chestnut Hill, and going directly toward the en- 
 closure described in the letter whose contents we have 
 given, seated herself on the wide stone slab. 
 
 It was an uncanny place for a woman at such a time; 
 an isolated spot, with few passers-by in the daytime, 
 far from any house or habitation, and now full of 
 gruesome shadows that shifted about like restless 
 spirits. Overhead, the black trunks of lofty chestnut 
 trees uprose in ghostly groups, their wide-spreading 
 branches richly but darkly clothed with shivering 
 foliage, while -the wind whispered among the crisp 
 leaves that eternal song for the dead which one always 
 hears there. 
 
 While the girl looked about her with a cautious 
 movement through her black veil, she showed no trep- 
 idation or sign of fear; and having satisfied herself 
 that she was absolutely alone, she rested her arm 
 against the side of the base, her chin upon her hand, 
 and gave herself up, apparently, to profound thought. 
 
 Of what could she have been thinking, in that 
 solemn place, alone with the dead? What had she 
 come to witness among those ghastly sleepers? Was
 
 Q2 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 it some deed of sacrilege? a profanation? a resurrec- 
 tion? A strange mission, surely; but the moment of 
 explanation was at hand. 
 
 Suddenly there came to her listless ears the grinding 
 sound of wheels on the graveled road that skirted the 
 great lake of murmurless water. The sound came 
 nearer, and the wheels moved slower, until at last they 
 stopped at the point where she had turned into the 
 graveyard. Then, through the thick night-mists the 
 forms of two men approached the three pines in front 
 of her, carrying a long coffin box of dark wood, and 
 laid it down at the foot of the largest of the trees. 
 Returning to the vehicle which stood in the road, they 
 took from it each a spade and mattock, brought these 
 to the spot, and began rapidly digging a grave. 
 
 The hooded face of the girl was turned steadfastly 
 toward them; not a word escaped her, not a movement 
 was discernible, while they kept on through the drag- 
 ging minutes until an hour had been spent in hollow- 
 ing and deepening the grave. When they had finished 
 their dismal task, they lifted the coffin-box over the 
 pit, and lowered it down with ropes. Then the earth 
 was rapidly thrown in, and trampled down, and some 
 turf gathered and packed over the moist loam, and the 
 work was done. 
 
 During all this time not a word had broken the im- 
 pressive stillness; but now, one of the men came slowly 
 toward the girl, and leaning forward, said in a distinct 
 tone: 
 
 "It is there!" 
 
 Without waiting for an answer, he turned away, re-
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 93 
 
 joined his companion, and the two went out to the 
 road. In another moment the sound of rapid wheels 
 stirred the silence, fast receding, dying away, and leav- 
 ing the same profound stillness as before. 
 
 But the girl, as if her weird surroundings held her 
 to the spot as in a spell, sank down again upon the 
 gray stone, and a sound that was something like a 
 moan, escaped her. Leaning her head upon one hand, 
 she looked, with the black cowl muffling and conceal- 
 ing her face, like some ghoulish visitant from Eblis. 
 
 Suddenly, while she sat shivering, eyeing the tomb- 
 stone nearest her, the moon -rose in full and cloudless 
 splendor. Its first beams rested upon the face of the 
 gray headstone upon which her gaze had fallen with 
 melancholy abstraction, and with a start as if a spirit 
 had risen before her she read this one sweet word, 
 cut deeply in the headstone: 
 
 "MOTHER." 
 
 She stood up, panting, her dark garb paling in the 
 sheen of the white moonlight, still gazing on that 
 name, her form trembling, sobs struggling from her 
 heaving bosom. 
 
 Then, with a quick gesture of defiance flung at the 
 ghostly pines in front of her, as though they were her 
 accusers, she darted away from the spot, out into the 
 solitary road, along the still and sparkling reservoir, 
 and vanished among the winding paths toward the 
 sleeping city.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE RANSOM OF A DEAD MAN 
 
 The marriage of Captain Howard BardeJl and Clara 
 Phillips had been consummated at the First Church, 
 a short tour had been made, and the Tremont Street 
 residence had received them. 
 
 Never, perhaps, had lovelier bride entered a home 
 as its mistress, than the fortunate captain brought in- 
 to his; and never, perhaps, were man and woman bet- 
 ter mated. The horizon of their double life was spot- 
 less, and they rightly felt that their future ought to be 
 at once peaceful and happy. 
 
 It was noonday. April was making its exit in all 
 the brilliant colors, and with all the languid airs of 
 June. Its breath was like the dew from poppies, bring- 
 ing to the senses sleepy reveries. 
 
 Seated by an open window was the captain, watch- 
 ing with half-closed eyes and placid smile the hum- 
 ming-bird industriously darting in and out of the 
 honeysuckle bells that wreathed the window frame. A 
 sweet song was rippling down to him from the cham- 
 ber above, taught by the captain to his fair young 
 wife 
 
 "He passed red Penrith's Table Round, 
 For feats of chivalry renowned; 
 Left Mayborough's mound, and stones of power 
 By Druids raised in magic hour; 
 And traced the Eamont's winding way, 
 Till Ulfo's lake beneath him lay." 
 94
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 95 
 
 Upon the soft carpet at his feet, his golden head 
 pillowed on one plump arm, lay the boy who had crept 
 into his heart before her, and now shared its warmth," 
 drowsing through the heated noonday. 
 
 The old Scotch housekeeper peered into the room, 
 and held out a soiled letter. 
 
 "It came last night," she explained, "after you had 
 taken the last wink, and I wouldnae arouse ye. So I 
 laid it on the kitchen shelf, an' not until this minute 
 did I remember it." 
 
 The captain took the letter, with an indulgent smile, 
 and broke the seal. And this is what he read: 
 
 "MR. HOWARD BARDELL, SIR: I obtained the situa- 
 tion of assistant superintendent of burial-grounds 
 through your influence, and by your help. I wanted 
 the place for a particular purpose to rob the grave 
 of the body of a deadly enemy Walter Walraven. 
 You have, therefore, been my accomplice in stealing the 
 corpse of your friend, and the father of the boy you 
 have adopted. You can right the wrong you have done 
 the father and son, if you act within twenty-four hours 
 from this (ten o'clock, p. m.), and in but one way. I 
 want money; I will, therefore, let my revenge rest, if 
 you will accept my terms. Here they are: 
 
 "You will go to the Boyleston Street burial-ground 
 to-morrow at two in the afternoon, and examining the 
 vault, chamber No. , and finding it empty (as you 
 will), you are to go from there to the Stone Chapel 
 (you will find it open), kneel at the tomb of your kins- 
 man Vassall, whose memory you are so reverent of, 
 and repeat this oath aloud:
 
 96 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 "'I, Howard Bardell, do solemnly swear in this holy 
 sanctuary, that I will pay to the person who reveals 
 to me the body of Walter Walraven (unharmed, ex- 
 cept from natural decay,) at the moment I look upon 
 the said body, $2,000 in gold. If I fail to so pay, may 
 I inherit eternal misery. 
 
 "'And I further swear, by the soul of my dead kins- 
 man here entombed, that I will not betray, molest, 
 or cause to be molested, betrayed, or imprisoned for 
 taking, or concealing, or selling said body, any person 
 or persons guilty of said offense, nor seek to discover 
 who my guide to the place where the body is depos- 
 ited is, or where such person goes after leaving me 
 there; and if I violate this oath, may my said kins- 
 man's soul be devoured by everlasting flames.' 
 
 "You will see no one near you, but your oath will be 
 heard; and you will be seen. You will then proceed 
 with the money (which you will get in the morning, 
 of course,) at exactly eight o'clock, to the shaded lane 
 in Brookline, called Still Street, turning toward the 
 right from the road, and stopping half-way to the 
 farther of two large chestnut trees on the left side of 
 the street. There one will come to you, and will lead 
 you to the spot. Ask nothing, make no attempt to 
 learn anything, and all will be well. But, if all this 
 is not performed to the letter, the body of Walter 
 Walraven will, within one hour after eight o'clock to- 
 morrow night, be covered with quick-lime, and con- 
 sumed. Act accordingly." 
 
 The signature of James Crouch was boldly written
 
 DANE WALRAVEN Q7 
 
 at the end of this astounding and strange document, 
 and it bore the date of the day before. 
 
 For many minutes, the captain sat dumfounded. 
 His face was blanched, his eyes dilated, the hand from 
 which the letter had dropped was spread outward, with 
 extended fingers, and he seemed shocked into insensi- 
 bility. 
 
 Suddenly there was a revulsion. His gaze had 
 wandered to the flushed face of the boy who lay 
 sleeping at his feet. He sprang up, with a dismal 
 groan, seized his hat from a table, and snatching the 
 letter from the floor, rushed from the house. 
 
 No one had witnessed his departure; and the warm 
 afternoon crept on toward sunset, the boy still slum- 
 bered on the crimson carpet, the house was silent. 
 The sun set, redly vanishing behind the western woods, 
 and shadows crept into the house. 
 
 Mrs. Peddie once more peered into the silent room, 
 carrying a lamp, which she placed on a table. 
 
 "Body 'o me! " exclaimed she, observing her master's 
 vacant chair, "it's his hour to su pan' he's gane frae 
 the house but he'll nae be far," murmured she, has- 
 tening to inform her mistress. 
 
 But, far or near, the captain came not, although the 
 troubled eyes of his wife were a score of times at the 
 street door, peering through the murk for the first 
 glimpse of her absent lord. 
 
 Nine o'clock! The strokes of the clock sounded to 
 Clara like human groans. Ten and the front door 
 was opened by some one from without. 
 
 "Thank heaven!" cried the anxious wife, hurrying
 
 98 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 down from her room. But it was Ellen, who had ob- 
 tained leave for an evening out, and was now wearily 
 climbing the dark stairway to her own bedroom. 
 
 Mrs. Bardell briefly told the girl of the prolonged 
 and unexplained absence of the captain, and received a 
 sympathetic reply. Then she returned to her chamber, 
 to pace it up and down as before, and to grow mo- 
 mentarily more distressed, and finally to become se- 
 riously alarmed. 
 
 Midnight ah, that was his footstep, at last! 
 
 Clara had thrown herself upon her bed, exhausted, 
 a few moments before she heard the door open again, 
 and the sound of Mrs. Peddie's voice, raised to an un- 
 usual pitch. Flying down the staircase, she reached 
 the foot before her husband had started to ascend. 
 Her arms were stretched forth to clasp him but she 
 shrank back from him with a cry. 
 
 His appearance was startling. Face haggard and 
 blanched, eyes holding in their sunken depths a stare 
 of horror, his whole person stained with earth, as 
 though he had fallen into a pit! 
 
 "What is it?" gasped his wife. 
 
 "Come upstairs," he answered, hoarsely, "and I will 
 tell you."
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE ABDUCTION OF DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 In a fourth story room of the old Marlboro House on 
 Washington Street, at the close of a rainy May day, 
 two men sat at a table, conversing. 
 
 The night shadows were gathering thickly about 
 them, when a boy entered, bearing two funereal-looking 
 candles, which he placed on the table. The dubious 
 rays fell upon the uninviting countenances of two old 
 acquaintances Joel Thorp, and the ex-assistant super- 
 intendent of burial-grounds. 
 
 Joel held in his hand a crumpled copy of the "Pa- 
 triot," from which he now began to read, interlarding 
 the text with sundry peculiar expressions of his own: 
 
 "Lost! From his home, No. , Tremont Street, about 
 seven o'clock last evening, Dane Walraven, the ward 
 of Captain Howard Bardell. " (Here followed descrip 
 tion.) 
 
 "$i,ooo reward will be paid by his guardian for the 
 return of the boy to his home," etc. 
 
 "That's neat, Jemmy," observed Joel, laying down 
 the paper, and lighting a pipe, which he proceeded to 
 puff vigorously. 
 
 "Very," echoed his companion, who sat on the oppo" 
 site side of the table, with folded hands, his usual at- 
 titude, half-sanctimonious, half-deliberative. 
 
 G9
 
 IOO . DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 "Do ye think," queried Joel, between his whiffs, 
 "that any cove'll find the kid, an' get the reward?" 
 
 The face of the other broadened with a sardonic 
 smile. 
 
 "I don't think anybody will claim the reward," re- 
 plied he, with his slow emphasis and sneering aspect, 
 which always impressed his friend. 
 
 "An" we don't need it," chuckled Thorp, rattling 
 some coins in his trousers pockets. "Fifteen hundred 
 for yureself, an' five hundred for me. The job was a 
 good un, an' the skipper done the 'andsome, Jemmy. 
 'E didn't wait long, eyether. " 
 
 "I laid my plans for everything," responded the 
 latter, complacently, "and," with sudden savageness, 
 "if he hadn't played quick, the body'd have been eaten 
 up, by" 
 
 "An' ye think there's no danger of him huntin' ye 
 up?" 
 
 "Don't you worry. He'll not hunt me up he's too 
 superstitious, believes in oaths, and a hereafter, like 
 the rest of the fools." 
 
 "An' ye've left the offis?" 
 
 "Resigned," answered Crouch, sarcastically. 
 
 "Werry good. An' now, wot's next, Jemmy?" de. 
 manded Joel, who appeared to have tacitly permitted 
 the other to lead. 
 
 "Nothing. In a short time, I'm going away, you 
 know with another." 
 
 "Ho, ho, yes, an' a wery interestin' party, eh, old 
 cove?" chuckled Thorp, who seemed immensely 
 amused.
 
 DANE WALRAVEN IOI 
 
 "Of course. Is the girl to be depended on?" 
 
 "Same as me." 
 
 "Well, then, let's go home. If you hear anything 
 drop, come and tell me; and I'll do the same with 
 you. I'll be in Chelsea." 
 
 "Egad, that's the talk. So, as there's no more to 
 be said to-night, an' no more corpses to move, I'll 
 stump for home. The partner of my buzzum is not 
 over-patient a-waiting, perticklerly w'en she expects 
 noos. " 
 
 "Where'd you pick her up?" inquired Crouch, con- 
 temptuously. 
 
 1 On the wharves. She 'peared to be a proper wicious 
 person, an' I rayther softened on her." 
 
 "I don't go much on women," observed the other, 
 with his proverbial sniff. 
 
 "But Missus Thorp, the present, ain't a hordinary 
 woman," argued Joel, spreading his crooked fingers on 
 the table. "Missus Thorp 'as conwictions, Jemmy." 
 
 "So has everybody," sneered his friend. 
 
 "No, Jemmy, no, sir, "remonstrated Joel, warming, 
 "they has i-dees; them's common. But Missus T. has 
 somethink more walu'ble nor i-dees, she has conwic-. 
 tions; an' I'll foller her conwictions against all the 
 i-dees in the wur-ruld. " 
 
 "Women ain't safe to depend on, nohow," objected 
 Crouch, rising to go; "'twas a woman made the first 
 rumpus in the world, and it's a woman will make the 
 last if she has a mate." 
 
 "Well, I stan's by 'em," growled Joel, obstinately. 
 
 This was the one human trait, perhaps, which gave 
 him a claim to human fellowship.
 
 IO2 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 No response was given to this, except a sniff and 
 swallow, and Joel shuffled out of the room. 
 
 "I'm goin' 'ome, Jemmy," said he, "good night." 
 
 But instead of going home, Joel went straight to the 
 Bardell home, where he was admitted by the old house- 
 keeper. 
 
 She recognized him at once. 
 
 "I dinna ken what ye're at, noo, " she exclaimed, 
 lapsing into her native provincialism. 
 
 "Oh, ye recollect me," growled he, pushing his way 
 into the hall. 
 
 "Ay, you came here a week ago, and Mr. Bardell 
 would not see you." 
 
 "Well, he'll see me now. Tell him I've summat to 
 tell him about the boy's wanishin.'" 
 
 The eyes of the housekeeper sparkled in their deep 
 sockets. 
 
 "About the chiel? Ah, he'll see the de'il himsel' 
 for that!" 
 
 Catching the messenger by the hand, she dragged 
 him into the parlor. 
 
 The captain was walking the floor; his face pale and 
 careworn, his eyes bloodshot from sleeplessness and 
 grief. He turned upon the visitor abruptly. 
 
 "What have you to tell me?" he demanded, almost 
 savagely. 
 
 Joel advanced, with his hat in his hand. 
 
 "It ain't much," he replied, sullenly, "but it's a 
 finger-mark. At seven of the clock last night, the lad 
 was walkin' on Tremont Street with yure missus " 
 
 "What!"
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 103 
 
 The captain sprang toward him with an energy that 
 caused Joel to leap backward. 
 
 "I'm a-tellin* ye for yer own good," he grumbled, 
 "an* there ain't no call to jump at me." 
 
 "But what do you mean?" stammered the captain, 
 staring angrily at his informant. 
 
 "I've said wot I mean; an' the captain of the watch 
 will tell ye I ain't lyin'." 
 
 The captain strode to the door and called: 
 
 "Clara, come down for a moment." 
 
 The beautiful woman who had been a bride for but 
 the length of a honeymoon, came tripping down the 
 stairs, and swept into the presence of the wretch who 
 had come there to wreck her happiness. 
 
 She glanced at the face of her husband; and when 
 she saw the cloud that rested there like an unspoken 
 threat, and the stern question that not his compressed 
 lips, but his impatient eyes asked as they were bent 
 upon her, she stopped, and the color left her cheeks. 
 
 "Repeat what you have just told me, " he commanded, 
 turning toward Thorp. 
 
 With a dogged manner, and with eyes downcast, 
 the man obeyed. 
 
 Clara stared at him in amazement. 
 
 "Who is this man?" she demanded, turning to her 
 husband. 
 
 "The man is of no consequence," returned he, impa- 
 tiently. "You have heard what he said!" 
 
 Clara's eyes flashed indignantly. 
 
 "Did you see me with Dane, in Tremont Street?" 
 she asked, with a scornful expression in her fair face.
 
 IO4 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 "Yes, ma'am, in front of the big entrance to the 
 common," answered he, looking up at her furtively, 
 with his ogreish eye. 
 
 "Indeed!" 
 
 "Yes, ma'am." The tone was now malicious. He 
 was tasting of revenge; and to such souls as his, the 
 morsel was sweet. "An' the captain of the watch, 
 he saw you, too!" 
 
 I 
 
 "Howard!" 
 
 The eyes of the young wife were turned full upon 
 her husband with a wild, questioning look, as she 
 crept slowly toward him. There was something in 
 their expression now that would have startled him, had 
 he looked. 
 
 But he did not see her; he was looking beyond her 
 blanched face at another that peered in through the 
 half-open door, the dark and handsome face of Ellen 
 Peters.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE FLIGHT OF A SUSPECTED WIFE 
 
 Clara had become so attached to Ellen Peters, pre- 
 vious to her marriage, that she had given the girl a 
 home with her. -The station assigned to her was less 
 that of a servant than a lady's companion; and the in- 
 genuous disposition of the young bride gave Ellen an 
 opportunity at all times to know whatever she chose 
 of her mistress and her movements. Apparently de- 
 voted to her service, the girl had gained her confidence 
 absolutely, as well as the captain's. Both regarded her 
 as a paragon of truthfulness. 
 
 On the evening of Dane's disappearance, Mrs. Bar- 
 dell had eaten a veiy light supper, leaving her hus- 
 band at the table. She had been within doors all day, 
 she said, and felt the need of a little outdoor exercise. 
 
 "Will you have a drive?" inquired her husband, at 
 all times willing to forego his own convenience for 
 her benefit. 
 
 "No, I will walk a few blocks." 
 
 "Then let me go with you," he urged. 
 
 "No, you told me you wished to go to the store to- 
 night, to look over your books," was her answer, and 
 he had gone down to the wharf, leaving her as she 
 ascended the stairs with Dane. 
 
 When Mr. Bardell returned late that night, he went 
 
 105
 
 IO6 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 directly to bed, as no one was then astir in the house, 
 The next morning, when he sat down to his break- 
 fast, a few moments before his wife came down, he 
 asked Ellen, who gave him his coffee, why Dane was 
 not in_his seat. 
 
 "He is usually the- first at the table," he remarked. 
 
 "Oh," replied the girl, carelessly, "I suppose the 
 poor little fellow was so tired when he went to bed, 
 that he is sleeping it off." 
 
 "How is that?" inquired his guardian, somewhat 
 puzzled. 
 
 "Why, I went on an errand for myself, last evening, 
 about seven o'clock, and as I passed along Beacon 
 Street mall, I saw Mrs. Bardell and Dane walking 
 quite fast in the Common, and going toward Park 
 Street. She had hold of his hand; and he appeared 
 to drag along as though he was tired." 
 
 Ellen left the breakfast-room; and at that moment 
 Mrs. Bardell entered. 
 
 "Where is Dane?" she asked. 
 
 "Still asleep," replied her husband, over his morn- 
 ing paper. 
 
 "That's odd. He is generally the first." 
 
 "You walked him too far, I am afraid." 
 
 But Mrs. Bardell raised her eyes in surprise. 
 
 "Where did I walk him to?" she asked. 
 
 Mr. Bardell repeated the information Ellen had just 
 given him. But Clara looked bewildered. 
 
 "I don't understand," said she, "I left him in my 
 room, when I went out; and when I returned he had 
 gone to bed."
 
 DANE WALRAVEN IO7 
 
 Ellen was now recalled, and further questioned. She 
 stared at Mrs. Bardell in apparent amazement. 
 
 "Oh, Mrs. Bardell," cried she, with a shudder, 
 "could it have been your ghost? That's a sure sign of 
 death!" 
 
 "Nonsense," returned her mistress, impatiently. 
 
 "How far was the 'ghost' from you, Ellen?" queried 
 the captain, amused at his wife's annoyed look. 
 
 "Oh, she was just passing the Pond." 
 
 "And you were where?" 
 
 "At Beacon and Charles." 
 
 "Ah, too far off, and too many trees between you and 
 the ghost, to identify it," was his playful summing 
 up. "Well, call Dane, and let him give his account 
 of it." 
 
 Ellen disappeared, but in a few moments came 
 bounding into the breakfast-room, with a scared face. 
 
 "He is not there!" she articulated, hysterically, and 
 sinking into a chair. 
 
 Simultaneously, husband and wife hurried up to 
 Dane's little bedroom, and entered it. But they stopped 
 at the threshold. There was no occupant of the 
 dainty bed. Its blue silk coverlet and lace pillow 
 shams were unrumpled, the arrangement of the cham- 
 ber undisturbed. It seemed to the captain, as he stood 
 there vacantly staring into it, as though his boy had 
 been borne out of it dead, so dreary and desolate it 
 looked without its smiling owner. 
 
 "My God, he is lost!" gasped he, tottering to a 
 chair. 
 
 Within an hour, police and detectives were in mo-
 
 lo8 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 tion in every part of the city, and out into the suburbs. 
 The captain himseH, driving hither and thither through 
 the town, in his despair and grief, had spread the 
 wretched news in every direction, and the story, 
 meager as it was, had flown through highway and by- 
 way. Sympathetic crowds gathered about the crier, as 
 with bell mournfully tolling, he went from corner to 
 corner, repeating his doleful cry: 
 
 "Boy lost " 
 
 But the day sped on, the night came lowering over 
 the city, its intolerable blackness falling like a pall 
 upon the soul of the haggard hunter who prowled the 
 streets until morning, in the fruitless search for his 
 darling. 
 
 Another day, and no tidings. Another night was 
 far advanced ; and woe still sat at the hearth of Howard 
 Bardell. He had just come in from another long and 
 exhausting drive through the north end of the city, 
 when Joel Thorp was announced. 
 
 The statement Joel made to the captain came upon 
 him like a thunderbolt. Instantly his mind reverted 
 to the careless story told him the previous morning by 
 Ellen Peters, before Dane's disappearance was known 
 in the house. And now, as the sad face of the girl 
 loomed in the doorway, he felt a horrible doubt creep- 
 ing into his heart and chilling it as if a hand of ice 
 had gripped it. 
 
 Maddened by this terrible suspicion, strengthened 
 by the recollection of vague expressions of Ellen's 
 about his wife's jealousy of his absorbing love for the 
 boy, and by Clara's cheerfulness since Dane was lost,
 
 BANE WALRAVEN log 
 
 (a cheerfulness which he had thought she was assum- 
 ing in order to inspire him with hope,) he trembled in 
 his knees, he shook as if in the midst of a whirlwind. 
 There was, indeed, a whirlwind in the soul of this 
 strong man, and it was rending him. 
 
 Every human mind is encompassed by doubts, and 
 is perpetually speculating on the "maybe." Belief iu 
 the honesty and in the sincerity and affection of those 
 who are dear to us is largely induced by the wish; 
 but belief is a sentiment, and is easily shaken, how- 
 ever tenaciously the heart clings to it. And now, cir- 
 cumstance on circumstance was assailing Howard Bar- 
 dell's belief in his wife, the being whom he had held 
 next in reverence to his God. He doubted; and such 
 doubt was to him a horror. 
 
 He beckoned to Ellen, and she slowly entered. 
 
 "Go to the city hall," said he hoarsely, "and ask 
 the captain of the watch to come here in haste. Bring 
 him with you." 
 
 Ellen made no reply, but, intently watching his 
 pallid face for a moment, swiftly went forth upon her 
 dubious mission. 
 
 The captain tottered, rather than walked, to a chair, 
 and sank upon it, without turning his eyes toward his 
 wife, or knowing that she stood there erect and rigid, 
 her dilated eyes following him with looks of terror. 
 
 Joel had slunk into a corner of the parlor, near the 
 window, where he peered out into the street. 
 
 The minutes crept on; the ticking of a clock in the 
 hall was the only sound that broke the awful stillness. 
 And neither of the three who waited for the coming
 
 IIO DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 of the last witness of a desolated home stirred or 
 seemed to breathe. 
 
 At last after an eternity of waiting, an eternity of 
 thought in a half-hour of time, there was an end. The 
 captain of the watch strode into the room, and behind 
 him glided Ellen. 
 
 In a voice preternaturally calm, but totally unrecog- 
 nizable, the stricken man asked a single question; and 
 his heart stood still while he waited for the answer. 
 
 With a glance of wonder at the singular group, the 
 officer gave it: 
 
 "I saw Mrs. Bardell walking rapidly in the Common, 
 skirting the Pond, and holding Dane by the hand. It 
 was a few minutes after seven on the evening he dis- 
 appeared. 1 
 
 Then a haggard face was lifted, a man rose slowly 
 out of a chair, his tall form towered and swayed, his 
 right arm was lifted as if to invoke the vengeance of 
 Deity, his pale, drawn lips opened as if to utter a 
 curse. 
 
 But the awful wail of a stricken woman rent the 
 sullen and horrible silence, and froze the arm and the 
 lips; the air stirred and parted before the rushing form 
 that sped into the hall, out into the night, and was 
 swallowed in an abyss of darkness.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 ON THE TRACK OF THE KIDNAPERS 
 
 The pastor of the First Church was a methodical 
 man. At precisely ten o'clock each night he retired to 
 his chamber, read one or two favorite passages in his 
 annotated Bible, and thus composed himself to enter 
 those peaceful somnolic regions wherein it was his 
 wont to remain for eight hours. 
 
 When, therefore, at eleven o'clock on the night of 
 Clara Bardell's flight from her home, a spasmodic 
 thundering at the front door knocker accompanied the 
 strokes of the city bell, the sounds invaded the minis- 
 terial dreams, and wakened him with start. 
 
 Springing from his bed, he hastily drew on his 
 velvet slippers and flowered dressing-gown, and hur- 
 ried down, candle in hand, to the hall-door. 
 
 The old housekeeper of the Bardells stood on the 
 steps without, trembling with excitement, and her gray 
 head muffled in a plaid shawl. 
 
 "Oh, sir, " cried she, in agitated tones, as the aston- 
 ished minister peered into her pale face, "ye maun just 
 come to Mr. Bardell, sir, at once! He's lying on the 
 bed bemoaning, and wanting the dominie every minute. 
 Ye' 11 come, sir?" 
 
 "Certainly, " replied Mr. Frothingham, with a troub- 
 led look, "but it appears rather strange that he should 
 
 111
 
 112 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 have given way to his grief in that way, so long after 
 the knowledge of his misfortune came to him." 
 
 "Oh, sir," returned Mrs. Peddie, forgetting in her 
 distress and excitement that she had not informed him 
 of the scene of an hour before, "it's belike madness, 
 now, it's not grief at all, it's worse but I maun go 
 back to him; lord-a-mercy " 
 
 And the poor body hurried off, moaning to herself, 
 through the fog which somewhere hid the fleeing wife, 
 while the minister returned to his chajnber. In twenty 
 minutes he was out in the street also, and made his 
 way rapidly to the captain's residence. There he 
 listened with amazement and sorrow to the terrible 
 story poured into his ear by the bereaved husband, 
 whose strong frame shook with the painful energy of 
 an agony he could not suppress. 
 
 When all was told, and the benevolent heart of the 
 listener had voiced its sorrow over this new calamity, 
 he remained silent for awhile, gravely musing. 
 
 The captain watched his face with painful intense- 
 ness, and at length asked in a hopeless voice: 
 
 "What now, since both are gone, is there for me? 
 Nothing nothing!" 
 
 And as the minister looked at him compassionately, 
 he cried: 
 
 "Tell me what I am to do what can I do?" 
 
 "Find her first of all!" 
 
 The tone and look of the minister were stern, as he 
 gave this brief counsel, which made it at once a rebuke 
 and a command. 
 
 The haggard and pale cheeks of the captain flushed.
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 113 
 
 "The captain of the watch left here as soon as Clara 
 disappeared from the door," he explained, "to follow 
 her, and to send out patrols. I went with him, he 
 going in one direction and I in another. She must 
 have flown like the wind, for neither of us saw any 
 trace of or heard any sound from her." 
 
 "And what became of the man Thorp?" 
 
 "Ah!" The captain had forgotten Joel, had not 
 given him a thought after the arrival of the officer. 
 "He must have stolen away from the house," mused 
 he. 
 
 "And the girl, Ellen Peters?" 
 
 "She was fearfully prostrated by the flight of her 
 mistress; and she has gone in search of her also, de- 
 claring that she will never return here without her." 
 
 "It is a peculiar business," muttered Mr. Frothing- 
 ham, his brows contracting. "But, let me advise you 
 once for all, to drive out of your mind the cruel, and 
 I believe unjust, suspicions you entertain toward your 
 wife. She had no part in the abduction of the boy. 
 It was an abduction, of course. The wretches who 
 perpetrated the crime must be found and brought to 
 punishment. In the meantime, you must keep such 
 control over yourself as as will enable you to direct, 
 or at least to assist, in the search for both wife and 
 the boy. I will come in to-morrow morning, and hope 
 there will be good news." 
 
 But the morning brought no good news nor news 
 of any kind, except that Ellen Peters had not returned, 
 and nothing had been heard of her. The police and 
 detectives had found no trail; they had suspected
 
 114 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 Crouch, and had tried to find him, but he had disap- 
 peared absolutely. 
 
 Within a week thereafter, the captain was lying un- 
 conscious in his chamber, stricken with brain fever, 
 the usual and natural result of such an overwhelming 
 experience as his. For nearly a month death sat at 
 his bedside; and when he at length crept downstairs 
 from his chamber, trembling, and bowed, and gaunt, 
 his hair was white; a pale and touching emblem of the 
 woe that had crowned his three brief months of marital 
 joy. 
 
 One evening while he sat in his library, listlessly 
 watching the scenes on the street, Mrs. Peddie an- 
 nounced a visitor. 
 
 "Ask him in here," directed the captain; and the 
 next moment he was shaking hands with the new 
 mayor of the city, Mr. Wells, who had been for some 
 time a personal friend, and an occasional caller. 
 
 "I have come to have a little conversation with you, 
 captain," said the mayor, cheerfully, "concerning your 
 trouble." 
 
 "You are very kind," returned the host, almost 
 apathetically. 
 
 "Oh, you will not feel so indifferent, I think, when 
 I have told you that I believe the city marshal has a 
 clew to the boy's abduction," exclaimed Mr. Wells, 
 smilingly. 
 
 The captain became animated at once, his wan face 
 lit up, and a tinge of color came into it as he asked, 
 with feverish eagerness: 
 
 "What is it? What can you tell me? 1 '
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 1 15 
 
 "Let us be professional," began the mayor, in a 
 brisk manner, "and let me ask you a few questions 
 as a preliminary. You have two dangerous enemies in 
 this city, have you not?" 
 
 "Enemies?" The captain reflected; but suddenly 
 remembered. "Ah, yes, I believe I understand you. 
 There are two persons whom I may consider enemies, 
 I suppose, although without the slightest justification 
 on their part." 
 
 "And their names?" 
 
 The captain gave the names of Thorp and Crouch, 
 entering into a brief explanation of circumstances we 
 already know. 
 
 "Precisely," was Mr. Wells' comment. 
 
 "Well, I believe there is no doubt that these two 
 rascals were the abductors of Dane Walraven. " 
 
 The captain again reflected. "I did suspect Crouch," 
 observed he, "and we endeavored to find him, but 
 failed; in fact, he has certainly left the city, which in 
 itself is confirmatory evidence, in my opinion, that 
 my suspicions were justified. But Thorp has never 
 shown any disposition to annoy or injure me; in fact, 
 he came here to give me information " 
 
 The captain's voice faltered here as the whole ter- 
 rible scene in which Joel Thorp had figured rushed 
 upon his recollection. 
 
 "Yes, I have heard something of his officious friend- 
 liness," remarked Mr. Wells, dryly. "And now, know- 
 ing from you and others something of his history, and 
 the story of his coming here to make an indirect accu- 
 sation against your wife, I am convinced that he is the 
 man we want."
 
 Il6 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 "But his place was visited, and a watch was set 
 upon his house, and all to no purpose. I never thought 
 anything would come of that, and nothing has. " 
 
 "But something will," exclaimed the mayor, with 
 sudden emphasis. "Now, I will tell you why I think 
 so: 
 
 "The city marshal some months ago adopted a boy, 
 whose name is Charles Vincent. This boy was em- 
 ployed by the baker who was burned to death, as was 
 also his entire family, and his house consumed, at 
 the corner of Broad and Hamilton. Here is the notice 
 of the fire," 
 
 The mayor drew from his pocket an old copy of the 
 Boston "Atlas," and read from it a paragraph reciting 
 what has been previously stated, with a surmise that 
 the fire was the work of an incendiary. 
 
 "Now," continued the mayor, "this boy was virtually 
 kidnaped by Crouch, on the morning of the fatality to 
 Murray the baker, and was virtually kept a prisoner 
 in Thorp's house, until he ran away to the Boys' 
 Asylum, which is a short distance from Thorp's place. 
 He has just told the marshal a long story concerning 
 his life at Murray's and at Thorp's; and the marshal 
 states that the story lets in a startlingly clear light 
 upon some of Thorp's transactions, and explains 
 gives a terrible meaning to some of his utterances 
 when quarreling with Murray on the night before the 
 fire. One of the patrolmen overheard this quarrel, 
 but he did not see or know Thorp's face, and paid 
 little attention to the wrangle, only gossiping about 
 it at the station, on hearing of the fire at Murray's.
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 117 
 
 There are some other incriminating circumstances, 
 which it is not worth while repeating at this time, but 
 which can be used against^ Thorp if we proceed as I 
 am going to suggest we do. My suggestion is, that 
 we arrest Thorp to morrow morning, on a charge of 
 larceny: nominal charge, yet a just one, since he in 
 fact stole the clothing of the boy Vincent. The 
 marshal is then to take the boy with him to the jail, 
 and confront the prisoner, surprise him with certain 
 statements the officer is prepared to make, and give 
 him the option of showing where Dane is secreted, or 
 standing a trial for arson. You are to supply the funds 
 that may be found necessary to enable Thorp to leave 
 the country, and the town will be relieved of the pres- 
 ence of a bad citizen." 
 
 "But would we not be morally, at least, compound- 
 ing a felony?" asked the captain. 
 
 "No; the evidence is circumstantial, and slight in 
 law, and a conviction of the crime of arson is a very 
 remote possibility. What do you say, now?" 
 
 "Let us do as you propose, and may God speed us! " 
 
 The lethargic condition in which the long illness, 
 as well as the hopelessness, of Captain Bardell had 
 left him, had rapidly changed during this interview 
 to one of feverish excitement; and his friend remained 
 with him some minutes longer, in a kind endeavor to 
 calm him. 
 
 After the mayor's departure, he went back to his 
 chamber, sat down at a table, and resting his head 
 upon his hands, strove to think; but a thousand 
 wheels seemed whirling within his brain, and the very
 
 Il8 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 awakening of hope made him tremble. From time to 
 time a sigh escaped him, then a few muttered words; 
 and in this attitude the gray morning found him.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 JOEL THORP IS BROUGHT TO BAY 
 
 The Boston jail, in Leverett Street, was a gloomy 
 stone building with cannon-balls embedded in the 
 blocks of stone, mortising them together, and rendering 
 the walls practically impenetrable. Culprits shuddered 
 when they approached its forbidding front, and once 
 inside, they were willing to do heavy penance, to give 
 almost any earnest of amendment, to shorten the term 
 of their incarceration. They were not fed sumptuously, 
 nor treated tenderly, nor indulged in the manner that 
 in these days of ultra-humanitarianism is much in 
 vogue. Crime was dealt with in a stern way, without 
 making excuses to the criminal for his arrest and pun- 
 ishment, as is too often the case now, nor was the 
 name of "crank" given to every human wolf who com- 
 mitted an extraordinary crime. 
 
 Three days after the visit of the mayor to Howard 
 Bardell, the marshal, accompanied by Charlie, called 
 at the jail and asked for the jailer, Mr. Badlam. This 
 personage, a benevolent- faced man, as much liked by 
 the "tame" prisoners as he was disliked by the incor- 
 rigibles, made his appearance, and begged his visitors 
 to be seated. 
 
 The marshal, however, briefly mentioned his desire 
 
 119
 
 I2O DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 to see a prisoner who had been brought in two days 
 before. % 
 
 "But there were two," was the smiling reply. 
 
 "No matter," observed the marshal, "the one I want 
 to see is named Thorp." 
 
 "Well, marshal," returned the jailor, still smiling, 
 "there were two Thorps run in, and they are both or 
 either at your service, though 1 shouldn't fancy either 
 of them. " 
 
 The marshal looked surprised, and somewhat an- 
 noyed. 
 
 "I don't know but one Thorp," said he, "and he is 
 a pawnbroker on Charter Street." 
 
 "Ah, then you wish to see the husband?" 
 
 "Who is the other?" 
 
 "The other is the wife, and there is a great deal of 
 her," answered Mr. Badlam, significantly. 
 
 "Upon what charge was she taken?" inquired the 
 marshal, uneasily. 
 
 "She resisted the arrest of her husband, and changed 
 the countenance of the constable so completely that we 
 didn't recognize him; so he brought her along, and 
 has preferred a charge against her." 
 
 The marshal appeared relieved. After a moment's 
 silence, he said: 
 
 "I will see both of them; the woman first." 
 
 Mr. Badlam shrugged his shoulders significantly, as 
 he rose to show the way to the female quarters. "I 
 suppose you've met with what they call 'Tartars, 1 in 
 your business?" said he. 
 
 "Oh, yes," answered the marshal, with a laugh. 
 
 "Well, you're going to call on one now."
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 121 
 
 The marshal did not appear to be much disturbed 
 by this unpromising outlook, but followed the jailer 
 compossdly, leaving the boy to wait his return. 
 
 Mrs. Thorp was in a solitary cell on the lower floor ; 
 her pugnacious disposition having re-asserted itself the 
 moment she was placed among the other women, ne- 
 cessitating her immediate removal to "a room by her 
 self," which she had from the first demanded, "be- 
 cause she 'ad an 'ome of her hown, an' lived private." 
 
 As the jailer approached with the marshal, she 
 turned savagely toward them, and was about to indulge 
 in some choice expletives, apparently, when she sud- 
 denly shrank back into a corner of the cell, and ab- 
 ruptly turned her back upon her visitors. 
 
 The marshal also, with a suppressed exclamation 
 of surprise, had stopped suddenly. 
 
 "You are acquainted, eh?" remarked Mr. Badlam, 
 amused at the woman's change of front. 
 
 "Yes," replied the other, with a crisp accent, "and 
 if you will kindly leave us now, I'll renew the acquaint- 
 ance." 
 
 The jailer nodded, and at once withdrew. 
 
 The marshal then tapped lightly on the door of the 
 cell, and called out, in a confident tone: 
 
 "So you are here, Mrs. Ann Mock' " 
 
 The woman turned toward him instantly. 
 
 "What do you want of me?" demanded she, defi- 
 antly. 
 
 "Why, you see, I am interested in you. I want to 
 know, for instance, why . you call yourself 'Mrs. 
 Thorp,' when that isn't your name?",
 
 122 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 Mrs. Thorp made no answer, contenting herself with 
 a stony stare out of her greenish eyes. 
 
 "Perhaps you know that your other husband is in 
 Weymouth?" suggested the marshal, ironically. 
 
 Still no answer, but a flash of defiance. 
 
 "And that you committed bigamy in marrying that 
 precious pawnbroker?" 
 
 This shot had its effect. Mrs. Thorp came slowly 
 forward, without removing her eyes from the placid 
 countenance of the officer. 
 
 "And it was you, was it, that had me nabbed for 
 bigamy?" she asked, with an angry shudder. 
 
 "No. You know why you were nabbed. But you 
 also know, I think, that if I should choose to do so, 
 I could send you across to Charlestown prison." 
 
 "An' I s'pose ye would do it, eh?" 
 
 "Not if you show a disposition to mend things." 
 
 "Take care o' yer own morals, will ye!" snarled 
 Mrs. Thorp, "an' don't preach to me, it's no use." 
 
 "Oh," retorted the imperturbable officer, "I'm not 
 going to try to reform your morals by preaching to 
 you. I'm going to influence you in a very different 
 way. " 
 
 "How'll ye do it?" 
 
 "By making you a proposition." 
 
 "Oh, ho! Then let's hear it, an' no more rat-hunt- 
 ing. I don't like much palaver, I don't." 
 
 "Very well. Now, stand close to the bars, here, 
 and listen to everything I say to you. Maybe you'll 
 have occasion to remember it afterwards. I will be 
 obliged to whisper, since your two companions there 
 appear to be such good listeners. "
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 123 
 
 "Oh, you don't want them to hear, hey?" exclaimed 
 Mrs. Thorp, with sudden animation. Then, with an 
 unlooked-for spring toward the dividing bars, she thrust 
 her sinewy hand through them, and caught a vixenish- 
 looking woman by the throat; one of the two who had 
 pressed close to their side of the cage in order to hear 
 what the "row" was. 
 
 "Ye hussy!" screamed her assailant, choking her 
 savagely, despite her struggles, "ef ye don't get back 
 to yer corner an' stay there, I'll send ye where they 
 all talks at oncet, and nobody listens! An* you avast 
 there," she shouted, releasing her prey wit*h a push 
 that sent her into a heap backward, and making a 
 fierce movement at the other woman, who had already 
 retreated. "Now," she said, turning to the marshal, 
 who had looked on with perfect equanimity, "spin yer 
 yarn, an' be lively." 
 
 The marshal promptly began his yarn, speaking in 
 whispers, to which the woman listened intently, re- 
 sponding from time to time with nods, curses, ejacula- 
 tions, and long, mumbled sentences, which evidently 
 pleased the officer. When the conversation was fin- 
 ished, she said aloud: 
 
 "We're pardners. I'll do it!"
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 DANE WALRAVEN RESTORED 
 
 When the marshal returned to the jailer's parlor, he 
 requested that functionary to escort him to Joel's 
 "headquarters." 
 
 Mr. Badlam accordingly led the way into the interior 
 of the jail, where, in a large and bare room, some 
 twenty men were busily picking oakum, an occupation 
 at which the prisoners worked on inclement days, in- 
 stead of breaking stone on the streets. 
 
 The jailer stopped there 
 
 "Joel Thorp, come here." 
 
 This summons caused every one to lift his head and 
 stare at the jailer inquisitively; but, as speech was 
 forbidden, they indulged in pantomime and grimace, 
 as Joel lurched forward, his eye fixed with a sidelong 
 glance at the marshal, whom he appeared to regard 
 with some uneasiness. 
 
 "Here is your man, marshal," said the jailer, as he 
 turned to go, "you can take him into the corridor, if 
 you like." 
 
 "That is better, I think. Send the person whom I 
 left in your room in the corridor, to me, and tell him 
 to keep out of the view of this man until I give him a 
 signal to show himself," whispered the marshal. 
 
 The jailer nodded and disappeared, while the officer 
 
 134
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 125 
 
 conducted his reluctant prisoner into the long passage. 
 Stopping there, he said abruptly: 
 
 "Thorp, do you want to get out of here very badly 
 to go free?" 
 
 The man laughed jeeringly. 
 
 "This 'ere's not a place to fall in love with, do ye 
 think?" 
 
 "It is a comfortable place, not to say cheerful, to 
 what you are likely to get into before long." 
 
 "Come!" growled Thorp, with a startled look, "wot 
 d'ye mean?" 
 
 "I say you are in a bad boat." 
 
 Joel glared sullenly at his visitor, but held his peace. 
 
 "Do you remember the banker Walter Walraven?" 
 
 The question was asked abruptly, and its effect upon 
 the prisoner was startling. He gave a hoarse cry, and 
 staggered against the wall, where he leaned trem- 
 blingly, his one hideous eye glowing defiantly, as he 
 waited for what was to come. Evidently, what came 
 was not what he expected; for he gave a snort of de 
 rision when the marshal said: 
 
 "You stole his body, you and your accomplice, Jem 
 Crouch, and sold it to the dead man's friend!" 
 
 "Is that wot yer after?" sneered Joel. 
 
 The marshal only eyed him complacently, rubbing 
 his hands softly together, as if meditating. 
 
 "You have a daughter, Martha," continued he, speak- 
 ing slowly. 
 
 "And a son," suggested Joel, with condescension. 
 He was beginning to feel in extremely good humor; 
 but it was very short-lived.
 
 126 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 "Your daughter went under the name of Ellen 
 Peters!" 
 
 "Wot?" 
 
 Joel began to tremble anew, and the look of dread 
 returned to his face. 
 
 "This girl of yours, calling herself Ellen Peters, 
 wormed herself into the confidence of Mrs. Bardell, 
 and was taken into service by that unfortunate lady. 
 One evening Ellen that is to say,your daughter Martha 
 acting under the instructions of yourself and Jem 
 Crouch, dressed herself in the clothing of Mrs. Bar- 
 dell, and took the captain's little ward, Dane Wai- 
 raven, out for a walk, telling him she was going out 
 in that costume to fool a sweetheart, and he was to 
 go with her and see the fun. " 
 
 "That's a lie!" vociferated Thorp fiercely. 
 
 "Your daughter then took the boy into the Common, 
 and went with him to the marshes, where Jem Crouch 
 lurked, and delivered the child to him. Jem Crouch 
 then seized the boy by the throat, tied a handkerchief 
 over his mouth, threw a coffee-bag over his head, 
 threatening him with death if he kicked or made any 
 movement, and carried him north by the route of 
 Charles, Cambridge, Causeway, and Lynn Streets in- 
 to No. 43 Charter Street, where you kept him hidden 
 until the next morning. By the first boat that crossed 
 the Winisimet Ferry, Jem Crouch carried the boy to 
 Chelsea, and up on Powder Horn Hill, where he had 
 a den. Martha was there, and received the boy " 
 
 "Stop!" shouted Joel, who had been listening for 
 the last few moments, with growing excitement, which
 
 DANE WALRAVEN I2J 
 
 had now become a frenzy. He himself was obliged 
 to stop after issuing his command, in order to breathe, 
 so agitated had he become. 
 
 "Well?" inquired the marshal. 
 
 "Were did ye get them lies?" 
 
 ''From your from Ann Mock! " 
 
 Joel's legs gave way, and he fell in a collapsed heap 
 upon the grimy floor, where he proceeded to go through 
 sundry performances of a most astonishing and ener- 
 getic character, thumping his bushy head against the 
 hard boards, striking them with his fists, and calling 
 down innumerable curses upon his betrayer. 
 
 The marshal watched this ebullition with urbane in- 
 difference. When Joel had exhausted himself, how- 
 ever, and was pausing for breath, his tormentor said, 
 authoritatively: 
 
 "Get up; I have more to tell you!" 
 
 With a sudden return of the fear which his rage had 
 for the time nearly banished, Joel sullenly obeyed. 
 
 "Do you remember a baker named Murray?" 
 
 "Curse ye!" yelled the desperate culprit, clawing 
 at the air, while he glared at his accuser. 
 
 "You remember him. Well, on the night of May 4, 
 last, you quarreled with him about a bill you owed him 
 for bread and pastry, and you told him you would ruin 
 him before another night had passed. You did ruin 
 him, by burning his house while he and his family 
 lay sleeping in it, and they were burned to death." 
 
 A glance of terror shot from the steel-blue eye, the 
 claw-like hands clutched at the sinewy throat, then 
 dropped helplessly. But suddenly he rallied.
 
 128 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 "Ye can't prove any think on me," said he. 
 
 "Charlie!" called the marshal. 
 
 Joel turned quickly in the direction of the marshal's 
 glance, and as he saw the boy approaching, he uttered 
 a hoarse "Great Lord!" and staggered against the 
 wall. His broad chest heaved, his single eye glared 
 upon this last witness of his crimes, and froth oozed 
 from his closed lips. 
 
 "This is the boy you took from the baker." 
 
 With a groan, the wretch closed his eye, but made 
 no response. Fear had, for the first time in his miser- 
 able career, vanquished Joel Thorp. 
 
 "So you see," pursued the marshal, "your criminal 
 record is a black one and your career in this country, 
 at least, is about to close. You can be imprisoned 
 for life to a certainty; and perhaps you can be hung." 
 
 "Wot do ye want of me?" demanded Thorp, sinking 
 his voice to a husky whisper. 
 
 "I want you to tell me where Dane Walraven now 
 is. Ann Mock says he is no longer in Chelsea. She 
 knows nothing now of his whereabouts. If she did, I 
 should not have come here to you, but would have left 
 you to pay the penalty of your crimes." 
 
 ''An' if I tell you where the kid is wot's iri for 
 me?" 
 
 "Wait. I want you to tell me, also, where Jem 
 Crouch and your daughter are." 
 
 "Oh," exclaimed the prisoner, exultantly, "I don't 
 object to tellin' that without no bargain. Jem an 1 
 Marthy's gone to England." 
 
 "Well, the lad? Where is he?"
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 1 29 
 
 "I say wot I said first wot's in for me, if I tell 
 where the kid is curse him?" 
 
 "Freedom to return to England. That is, you will 
 be sent to England, and you are never to return to this 
 country. " 
 
 "An* how can ye get me out of this?" demanded 
 Joel, suspiciously. 
 
 "There are but four persons who know of the crimes 
 you have committed here. They are Captain Bardell 
 and his friends. You will be called up for trial, and 
 no evidence will be forthcoming, so you will be ac- 
 quitted; that is, you will be discharged. You will then 
 go with me to the place where you hold Dane Wai- 
 raven in concealment; and if we find him safe and un- 
 harmed, you will then be put on board the Petrel, 
 which sails for Liverpool day after to-morrow, and your 
 passage paid." 
 
 "Wery good, it's a go. I'll give up the kid curse 
 'im. But," he muttered, under his breath, "it ain't 
 all over yet. There's scores to pay, an' by they'll, 
 be paid!" 
 
 But the marshal had performed his mission, and 
 with a nod, had turned away, taking Charlie with him, 
 and leaving Joel moodily staring at the floor. 
 
 As the latter crept back to his work, he drew his 
 bushy black brows into a scowl, and hissed: 
 
 "Sile an' me we'll follow 'em to the death!"
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 FOUND A WIFE AND DAUGHTER! 
 
 June roses were blooming, June skies were glowing, 
 and the waters of Boston Harbor were dancing in the 
 golden noonday. 
 
 One year had gone since Dane Walraven's return to 
 his guardian's roof. The boy had been restored with 
 a blackhead and a brown skin; but the vigorous scrub- 
 bing both received at the hands of Mrs. Peidie, who 
 stopped a score of times in the midst of her delight- 
 ful task to bestow Scotch kisses upon the "puir bairn," 
 had removed every trace of stain and dye; and except 
 for the yellow locks, which had been shorn by his ab- 
 ductors, Dane was the same bonny lad as before his 
 strange experience. 
 
 The year that had passed since then had given the 
 
 ' boy an inch in height, and deepened the color in his 
 
 cheeks, delighting his guardian with these and other 
 
 indications of a vigorous youth, and calling from Mrs. 
 
 Peddie the frequent asseveration that 
 
 "The laddie has the Howard strain, and a braw race 
 it is; but there's the spoiling of a Hieland chief in the 
 chiel." 
 
 The captain had purchased a handsome little cat- 
 rigged yacht, which he was desirous of trying, and on 
 this June day he started with Dane on a sail to New 
 
 130
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 13! 
 
 York. The boat moved like a swallow, never heeling 
 except when fronting a swell; and after a smooth sail,' 
 they arrived at the metropolis, and tied up in East 
 River. 
 
 On the third day after their arrival, which was the 
 Sabbath, they attended Trinity Church service. Seats 
 were given them just inside the middle aisle to the 
 left of the center of the nave, the captain having the 
 end seat. 
 
 While the congregation was slowly settling into 
 place, the eyes of Captain Bardell wandered over to 
 the pew opposite his own, and rested dreamily upon 
 its occupant, a lady dressed in black, who had just 
 entered, and was kneeling at the moment in prayer. 
 Her figure was that of a young woman, elegant and 
 graceful; and her head, bent reverently forward, gave 
 a profile of exquisite contour, while the face, singular- 
 ly pale, but of flawless complexion, bore an expression 
 of profound melancholy. Her attitude and pose, in- 
 deed, suggested a resignation at once dignified and pa- 
 thetic, and as the captain's eyes dwelt upon her with 
 the sad and yearning gaze which had never left them 
 since the night of his wife's flight, something within 
 him began to stir; and his unconscious interest in the 
 unknown grew in intensity until it verged upon excite- 
 ment. 
 
 Ending her brief devotions, the lady slowly seated 
 herself, and sat quietly facing the minister, who imme- 
 diately began his discourse. 
 
 The sermon was an able one, but Captain Bardell's 
 gaze was glued to the face of the fair worshiper, nor
 
 132 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 did he remove it for an instant during the whole of 
 the service. 
 
 As the congregation rose to leave the church, he 
 stood waiting in the aisle until the lady passed out of 
 her pew, and in doing so her face was turned toward 
 him. Their eyes met for an instant; she moved for- 
 ward with a trance-like expression, and they stood face 
 to face. 
 
 " Clara!" 
 
 As that was the sweetest word the captain had ever 
 known, it naturally was the first he uttered the name 
 of one he had held to his bosom as a bride, as a wife. 
 
 She did not answer; but he caught her hand, drew 
 her along through the crowded aisle, out into the 
 smiling sunlight, and away from the throng. She went 
 passively with him, pale as a moonbeam in mid-winter, 
 rigid as an ice-pinnacle floating in a polar sea, and as 
 cold. 
 
 Dane had followed closely; and now he seized her 
 other hand, which hung cold and lifelessly at her side, 
 and cried excitedly 
 
 "Oh, we have found you! We have found you!" 
 
 The boy's lips were pressed again and again upon 
 the unresponding fingers, while tears of joy from his 
 blue eyes rained upon them. 
 
 "Clara, speak!" 
 
 It was the captain's voice, the voice of her husband, 
 husky, faint, and pleading. 
 
 After the first lightning glance of recognition, she 
 had not looked at him. Now, as she heard the low 
 and tremulous tones appealing to her, and knew there
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 133 
 
 was a prayer for forgiveness in them, she raised her 
 dark eyes to his face, and searched its lineaments. 
 She saw the lines of trouble there, and the white 
 crown of sorrow that wreathed his noble head; and all 
 the generous impulses of her nature clamored for his 
 pardon. Then she gave it in one word that trembled 
 from her sweet lips like the silver note of a flute 
 
 "Howard!" , 
 
 Ah, how he yearned at that moment of re-union to 
 clasp her his restored wife in his arms! But they 
 were in the great thoroughfare of Broadway; there 
 were thousands of eyes about them, and their joy was 
 sacred, they must wait. 
 
 "Where shall we go?" he whispered. 
 
 "To my home, of course," she murmured. 
 
 Her home! It sounded like a humiliation to him. 
 She had but one home, the home she had abandoned 
 no, the home his false and cruel suspicion had thrust 
 her from. But she was restored to him, and there was 
 to be no more separation, no more sorrow. His heart 
 leaped within him at that thought. 
 
 Clara led the way up Broadway, and out into the 
 suburbs, stopping at a plain brick house with a tiled 
 roof, in what is now Bond Street. 
 
 "And you live here?" queried her husband, the tears 
 welling into his eyes as he' looked up at the quaint 
 little windows, curtained with dimity. 
 
 "Yes," answered Clara pensively, as they plied the 
 knocker, "I am a teacher in the public schools, and I 
 have rooms with a genteel family here Tot and I." 
 
 "Tot? Who is that?"
 
 134 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 "You will see her in a moment," replied his wife, 
 with a demure smile. 
 
 A little colored girl opened the door, and they en- 
 tered the hall. 
 
 "Bring Tot in, Isabel," Mrs. Bardell directed, as 
 she led her husband and Dane into the modest parlor. 
 
 A crowing laugh came from the rear of the hall at 
 that moment, and the girl entered, carrying in her 
 arms a smiling little one", clad in the daintiest of 
 dresses, bearing an absolutely perfect resemblance to 
 Captain Bardell's wife! 
 
 "Your daughter, Howard," was the introduction his 
 wife gave him to the little stranger. 
 
 "My daughter!" gasped the astonished captain, for 
 a moment overcome. 
 
 Needless is it to dwell upon the bewilderment, the 
 ecstasy of the bronzed skipper and father. He held 
 the little beauty in his arms, now close to his breast, 
 now at arm's length; then he set the prodigy on the 
 carpet, and stood off to see it topple and fall over, 
 laughing, exclaiming, caressing it for full a half hour. 
 
 "Silly man!" murmured the wife, who sat in the 
 shadow of the small room, that she might not betray 
 the equally silly fact that she was crying. 
 
 The antics of Dane added zest to these perform- 
 ances. He capered about the crowing wonder with 
 wild delight. 
 
 ''What's its name?" he demanded, abruptly paus- 
 ing. 
 
 "Eleanor, dear," returned the mother. 
 
 "Just to think of it, Guardy, " cried he, down on all 
 fours before it, "it's a girl! "
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 135 
 
 "Don't you wish it was a boy?" asked the mother, 
 smilingly. 
 
 "No, 1 loftily, "boys can take care of theirselves. " 
 
 "And who will take care of Tot?" 
 
 "Me!" 
 
 And Dane was on his sturdy little legs, posing like 
 a diminutive knight. 
 
 Ah, if he had always remembered his promise! 
 
 It was late that night when Captain Bardell left his 
 wife, and returned to his hotel. Dane remained with 
 Clara, insisting on sleeping beside the diminutive mis- 
 tress of his destiny. 
 
 On the following morning three of the happiest peo- 
 ple in New York went to call upon tfie gray-haired 
 principal of the school in which Clara taught. She had 
 frankly told him her story when she had made her ap- 
 plication for a department, and his influence had done 
 much for her. He was prepared for the denotiement, 
 and sent her away with her husband, with a fatherly 
 blessing. 
 
 The trip back to Boston was performed without a 
 single incident to mar the happiness that pervaded the 
 little craft; and when they reached home the home 
 which had been so long desolate Mrs. Peddie had 
 her full share of surprise, wonder, and delight. Dane 
 explained to the good dame that "Tot" was to .be his 
 especial charge. 
 
 "Aweel," she observed, looking down into his blue 
 eyes, "it's the lassies that will make or mar ye, bairn!" 
 
 And once more had the Scotch housekeeper spoken 
 like an oracle.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 DOCTOR TOM PELHAM 
 
 Nineteen years of unbroken happiness had succeeded 
 the reunion of the Bardell family. The house in Tre- 
 mont Street had become a familiar number to the 
 young society people of the south end; and it was 
 heartily conceded that it contained as interesting a 
 quartette as any home in Boston. 
 
 Captain Bardell was now a man of fifty-four; but 
 apparently in perfect physical and mental vigor, and 
 by no means near the end of his active career. Clara 
 had become somewhat thinner and paler than seemed 
 consistent with good health ; but her unvaryingly 
 cheerful spirits contradicted -any suspicion that her ap- 
 pearance should be charged to illness. The young 
 people had grown into splendid types of manhood and 
 womanhood. Dane's blonde beauty contrasted strik- 
 ingly well with Eleanor's brunette loveliness. His 
 form had expanded and lengthened until now he stood 
 nearly six feet in height, but faultlessly proportioned, 
 and without a suspicion of heaviness in either gait or 
 gesture. The same blonde hair, blue eyes, and peach- 
 like complexion drew admiring glances from women 
 and wondering stares from men, although he was now 
 in his twenty-seventh year. He had graduated at 
 Harvard, had spent three years in Europe, and had re- 
 
 136
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 137 
 
 turned to his home a brilliant, accomplished and pol- 
 ished man. 
 
 Nor had nature been less prodigal with Eleanor, 
 who had developed into a superb beauty of twenty, re- 
 sembling her mother in every feature, as she did in 
 her firm and amiable character; but in physical de- 
 velopment she surpassed her mother. With a figure 
 large and commanding, an air imperial as Juno's, a 
 brow as classic as Diana's, these, with her intellectual 
 attributes, made her, young as she was, a social leader. 
 Her nature was peculiarly sensitive and proud, even to 
 morbidness. This trait may have been attributable to 
 the unhappy circumstances attending and surrounding 
 her birth, and indeed that was the explanation given 
 it tacitly, by both her parents. To a more prescient 
 eye than theirs she would have suggested a nature 
 doomed to suffer as she was destined to from the 
 faults, the sins of others. 
 
 Eleanor had been sent to a noted seminary; and 
 while there, she had imbibed certain ideas of the super- 
 natural in life, which we shall hereafter have occasion 
 to mention at length; and after her return as a grad- 
 uate, she had continued her mysterious studies until 
 they acquired a mastery over her reason. 
 
 Nothing, during the years succeeding the recovery 
 of Dane and the return of Clara, had been seen or 
 heard of the malignant enemies who had caused them 
 so many sorrows, and well-nigh wrecked their lives. 
 Joel Thorp had been "transported" in effect, to En- 
 gland, and dared not return to America. 
 
 His spouse had settled in Marblehead with her re-
 
 138 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 pentant husband, while Jem Crouch and Martha had 
 also crossed the sea, after a hasty marriage before a 
 civil official in New York. Silas had never been seen 
 by the Bardells since the burning of the Armadillo. 
 The whole dangerous brood had long since been for- 
 gotten, except as hideous memories which the surviv- 
 ors of their infamous plots strove to banish, and to 
 which they never referred. 
 
 They were yet to realize that the reptiles were only 
 dormant, and were yet to strike twice at their lives, 
 their honor, and their domestic peace. 
 
 Dane and Eleanor had long been taught to look for- 
 ward to a union with each other; and as there had 
 never been any compulsory suggestion offered them, 
 they were quite willing to marry, and were now be- 
 trothed. Arrangements were, indeed, already in prog- 
 ress for the celebration of their nuptials at Christmas- 
 tide, in an elaborate and imposing manner. The 
 wealth inherited by Dane from his unfortunate father 
 had accumulated so steadily, that it now amounted to 
 not less than two hundred thousand dollars, a princely 
 fortune at that date for a young man. But, besides 
 this patrimony, the captain had amassed a considera- 
 ble fortune, and Eleanor was the only one to inherit 
 it. Thus, with fortune, health, physical beauty and 
 social prestige, there really seemed to be in store for 
 these favored children, nothing save happiness, un- 
 broken and prolonged. 
 
 But when have human calculations provided against 
 "possibility?" There are two pigmy words pigmies 
 that have the terrible attributes of giants constantly
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 139 
 
 overlooked in human calculations, and as constantly 
 looming up in front of the calculators to disappoint, to 
 balk, or to defeat them: "If," and "But." In future 
 pages of this history these two words are talismanic, 
 they stand beyond Jike two grim mountains, directly 
 in the path of our darlings and only too soon will their 
 unconscious feet lead to them. 
 
 It was now the midsummer, and a great number of 
 people in the city were prostrated by sickness. Among 
 the various disorders that prevailed, several cases of 
 malignant small pox had been reported to the city phy- 
 cians; but the most serious was an insidious disease, 
 known in modern medical nomenclature as "tubercu- 
 losis. " It had been for several months making sad 
 ravages among the lower and poorer classes in the city, 
 attracting the special attention of the professors in the 
 medical college in Mason Street; and the lecturers in 
 debate had sent some of their theses to the newspapers. 
 Other physicians followed with press articles, and a 
 spirited controversy began. One of these articles, 
 headed "Theories of the Youngest Physician in Bos- 
 ton," appeared one morning in the "Transcript;" and 
 when Captain Bardell came down to his breakfast he 
 found his favorite paper lying moist and inviting be- 
 side his plate, with the above head-lines beckoning his 
 attention. He read the first paragraph aloud: 
 
 "The distinct product of mal-assimilation is tubercle. 
 * * * Calcarea and iodine should be depended upon 
 as remedial and restorative agents; calcarea being 
 especially demanded when innutrition is caused en- 
 tirely by functional derangement. Diet and hygienic 
 aids, also, must not be neglected."
 
 140 . DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 "There," observed the captain, laying down his pa- 
 per, and leisurely wiping his glasses, "I call that a 
 bold presentation, a a fine diathesis of this devil- 
 ish malady. This doctor knows what he's talking 
 about." (It is doubtful if the captain did.) "He's a 
 neighbor, too, Clara." 
 
 "Indeed?" nodded Clara, sipping her coffee, and 
 smiling in it. 
 
 "Egad, yes. Came here from New York, I under- 
 stand, and has taken an* office four doors from here 
 front rooms. I've seen him on the street twice." 
 
 "Did he offer to vaccinate you, papa mine?" laughed 
 Eleanor, who had just had her own experience. 
 
 "Vaccinate me! Why, Tot, I've been on board ship 
 with five cases below deck, and but people are much 
 more sensitive to disease in these effeminate days." 
 
 "Is the doctor nice?" inquired his daughter, slyly 
 glancing at Dane. 
 
 "Ha, ha, you minx! I'll go and find out. Yes, 
 I'll call on him this morning, and have a bit of a chat 
 with him." 
 
 The call was made, and the captain came back to 
 report to his wife. 
 
 "He's the cleverest young man I ever met," was his 
 verdict. "Only twenty-eight, but brimful of of ther- 
 apeutics, pharmacy, and ah, science. Good-looking, 
 and gentlemanly, too. And, egad, Clara, I asked him 
 to come and dine with us next Sunday." 
 
 Mrs. Bardell smiled. She never found fault with her 
 husband's social eccentricities; and his impromptu 
 invitations never raised a storm at home.
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 14! 
 
 "What is his name?" she asked. 
 
 "Dr. Tom Pelham," answered the captain briskly; 
 "a good name, too, my dear, a very respectable name 
 English. You'll like him." 
 
 Doctor Pelham came to the Sunday dinner, and 
 comported himself so well that he received another 
 invitation for the Sunday following, which he gracious- 
 ly accepted. Then the captain discovered that his new 
 acquaintance played whist; so, it came to pass that 
 the doctor spent every Wednesday and Saturday even- 
 ing thereafter at the Bardell whist table; and within 
 a month, the two, despite the long bridge between 
 them in the matter of age, were professed cronies. 
 
 From this social relation it was but a step to the 
 professional; and the step irretrievable, terrible in 
 its consequences was soon to be taken.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 CAPTAIN BARBELL PLAYS NO MORE WHIST 
 
 "Now for our game! 
 We must be foxes, velvet-pawed 
 And wary." The Conspirators. 
 
 One morning Doctor Pelham was called in to see 
 Captain Bardell, whom he found still in bed, although 
 it was past ten o'clock. 
 
 "No whist to-night, I'm afraid!" he exclaimed, 
 looking ruefully out from a mass of quilts, with very 
 red eyes. 
 
 "What is it, my dear sir?" inquired the physician, 
 with an air of solicitude, as he approached the great 
 four-post bedstead. 
 
 "Why confound it night before last, half an hour 
 after you left here, I was taken with a congestive 
 chill," explained the patient, speaking with some diffi- 
 culty. "I got over it, but have felt very queer ever 
 since. I've a strange numbness in my head and limbs, 
 and have kept mewed in my room, in consequence. 
 First time in my life, sir! Never sick before; but I 
 had a curiosity to know how people feel when they're 
 sick ugh! and my curiosity is more than gratified 
 ugh!" 
 
 The patient drew himself together suddenly, as if he 
 experienced a sharp twinge. 
 
 142
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 143 
 
 "Where is the pain now?" asked the doctor. 
 
 "Pains, you mean; all over," groaned he. "I found 
 I couldn't walk this morning, except like a hobble-de- 
 hoy; so I took Mrs. Bardell's advice, and here I am, 
 as the oyster said when the crab looked into his shell. " 
 
 "Ah, if you are not too sick to joke, we'll soon be 
 at the whist table again," smiled the doctor. 
 
 "Don't know about that; my tongue's covered with 
 barnacles, and I'm on my beam-end ugh!" 
 
 "Well, I will look at your tongue. Aha, furry. 
 Now, your eyes umph, bad! By the by, you told me 
 the other night that your daily walks extend from 
 seven to ten miles?" 
 
 "Yes, in fair weather. That's the way I keep myself 
 supple," returned the captain, complacently. 
 
 "Umph. And you have frequently come home very 
 tired, of course?" 
 
 "Yes, sometimes," was the reluctant admission. 
 The captain had his weaknesses. But a man without 
 a weakness would not be a lovable man, and he was a 
 charming one. 
 
 "Had a fall lately?" 
 
 "Egad, yes!" with some surprise, since he had heard 
 no one laugh, and had told no one about it. 
 
 "Slipped on the sidewalk, maybe, and got a bad 
 knock, or " 
 
 "Why, confound it, I did slip and fall last week 
 in my warehouse, and got a rough reception from the 
 floor, but no one saw it." , 
 
 "On the head?" 
 
 "Head and shoulder; quite a shaking up; I weigh 
 one hundred and ninety, now."
 
 144 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 "Any nausea?" 
 
 "Twice; worse than a sea-sick land-lubbe'rs connip- 
 tion!" with disgust. 
 
 "Haven't slept well, skin hot, wanted to be always 
 moving about, eh?" continued the doctor, thrusting his 
 white hands in his trousers pockets, and partly clos- 
 ing his eyes. 
 
 "Come, ease off, doctor!" expostulated the patient; 
 "great whales! you must have gotten a looking-glass 
 inside of me! You've made a good, a deuced good 
 er ah " 
 
 "Diagnosis and " prompted the doctor. 
 
 "What? No, egad, I said you have made a deuced 
 good diagnosis," growled the captain, whose sensitive- 
 ness brooked no exposure of his unfamiliarity with 
 medical terms. 
 
 "Yes, I think I have," assented Doctor Pelham, 
 drumming abstractedly on the back of a chair. 
 
 For a few moments there was nothing heard in the 
 room save the stertorous breathing of the patient. 
 Then the doctor turned, with a sudden, swinging 
 movement, toward the bed. 
 
 "Well, my dear friend," said he, "you will not take 
 any more long walks." 
 
 "Order number one, " groaned the sufferer ; "goon." 
 
 "I shall have to put you in training for a long course 
 of treatment 
 
 "What?" 
 
 The captain fairly bounced in his bed. 
 
 "Oh," puffing indignantly, "then I am to be cat- 
 hauled and keel-hauled, eh? ;i
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 145 
 
 "Treatment, dietetic and " 
 
 "Wait a bit," shouted the skipper, propping himself 
 on his pillows, with' an effort. "Order number two 
 milk-and-water, spoon-food go on, sir!" with stern 
 reproach in his fine eyes. 
 
 "How old are you, captain?" queried the physician, 
 meditatively. 
 
 "A boy, sir, a mere boy," responded he, irritably. 
 Was he going to be told next that he must don flannels 
 and night-caps! Egad, he would repudiate order 
 number three. 
 
 But the doctor did not seem to threaten such an in- 
 dignity, nor even to expect or need an answer to his 
 question, for, in the same abstracted tone, he answered 
 the question himself "Fifty-four " and then abruptly 
 stopped, stared, and glanced quickly at the patient. 
 Indeed, his manner for the past five minutes had been 
 odd, not to say moody. His mind appeared to be 
 wandering very far from his body. 
 
 The captain manifested surprise again. "Who told 
 you I am fifty-four? I don't deny it, though; that's 
 nothing. My father's father died at ninety." 
 
 "Yes, a splendid old oak and looked like one " 
 
 "What? What do you know about him? Did you 
 ever see him?" demanded the captain, opening his 
 reddened eyes very widely. 
 
 "H'm I? Oh, certainly not. Of course not." 
 
 Doctor Pelham seemed to "jerk" himself together 
 with an angry effort. He walked to a window, and 
 back to the bed, as if to waken his faculties out of a 
 sleep.
 
 146 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 "Well," resumed the patient, "you've told me enough 
 to bother me, now go on and give me the whole dose." 
 "Unpleasant, isn't it?" remarked the doctor, 
 placidly. 
 
 "Deucedly so. But what is the matter with me?" 
 
 "There are grave symptoms of meningitis, my poor 
 friend." 
 
 "You don't tell me!" 
 
 "Involving the dura mater and cranial arachnoid." 
 
 "The devil, you say!" 
 
 The ex-skipper had not the slightest conception of 
 the doctor's meaning; but when he had used those 
 wonderful nautical phrases on board ship, he had felt 
 a mild contempt for the gaping land-lubbers who list- 
 ened with such reverence and bewilderment; and he 
 would not for a moment show his own ignorance of this 
 other craft, strange as it was to him. However, what- 
 ever the doctor meant, his words implied something 
 serious, so his face became grave. Then, savagely: 
 
 "Well, well, what is the treatment you propose?" 
 
 "I shall use aconite and belladonna, and primarily 
 arnica as a prophylactic; and I shall prescribe a 
 regimen of diet to-morrow." 
 
 "And coop me up in the hold under hatches quar- 
 antinedin hock b-r-r " 
 
 The captain's fuming was stifled under the bed- 
 clothes, which he drew viciously over his head, as if 
 to end the vexatious interview. 
 
 Doctor Pelham glanced at the heap on the bed, 
 smiled singularly, and softly opened -the door. 
 
 As he closed it gently behind him, the captain
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 147 
 
 his head out of a mountain of quilts, and shouted after 
 him: , 
 
 "Bring in your hospital stores, and come on and 
 be d d to you!"
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 A DEATH-BED WARNING "BEWARE OF HIM*' 
 
 Doctor Pel~ham had reached the front door, when 
 the door of the library opened, and Mrs. Bardell stood 
 on the threshold. She was looking even paler than 
 usual, and her manner betrayed anxiety. 
 
 "Ah, madam," exclaimed the young physician, lift- 
 ing his hat gracefully, as he held it in his hand, "my 
 poor friend up there is about to see me more frequently 
 than ever, but not at the whist-table, where he always 
 won the odd game." 
 
 "Is it anything more than a cold?" asked she, dis- 
 turbed by his manner. 
 
 "It is something quite different," replied he, grave- 
 ly; and then he proceeded to tell her, in a soothing 
 voice, of the real malady, and the treatment that was 
 imperative in the case. 
 
 Mrs. Bardell listened to the low tones of the physi- 
 cian with growing apprehension. Her face clouded, a 
 gray tint crept into it, and she became momentarily 
 more agitated. 
 
 "It is, then, a very serious matter?" she asked, 
 faintly 
 
 "I must confess, madam, that the symptoms are 
 serious; but we must not lose courage. Between my- 
 self and you, he cannot lack care." 
 
 148
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 149 
 
 "Ah you are to be his physician then?" 
 
 Doctor Pelham bowed. There was something like 
 irony in his voice, as he answered: 
 
 "Yes, madam, I shall have that sad privilege; " and 
 with a final movement of his head, he left her. 
 
 Mrs. Bardell looked wistfully after him until the 
 hall-door closed. Her eyes bore a troubled expression, 
 and there was a slight frown on her face, as she went 
 up the stairs to her husband's room. She had never 
 felt anything but indifference toward the physician 
 until now. But at this moment, for some reason un- 
 accountable to herself, she experienced a shock; and 
 discovered that what she h?d supposed was indiffer- 
 ence, was in reality a settled antipathy. 
 
 "Hillo, Clara!" exclaimed the captain, as she en- 
 tered his room, "did you see Pelham before he went 
 off?" 
 
 "Yes, dear," replied she, taking a seat by the bed. 
 "And he tells me that you are to have only himself. 
 Do you not think it would be more prudent to call in 
 an older physician, one we are better acquainted with?" 
 
 "Tut! The old school is going out; there's a new 
 order of things. Pelham is progressive; and besides, 
 he's a man of ideas; and as for knowing any one bet- 
 ter, why, I know him through and through. He's aw- 
 fully transparent like most men of genius, actually 
 stupid, outside of his profession. No, my love, I'll 
 keep Tom at the helm, and weather it ugh!" 
 
 But the captain grew rapidly worse. In three weeks 
 he was woefully changed in appearance; in five, he 
 was apparently on the verge of dementia; then fol-
 
 I5O DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 lowed almost constant stupor; and when the first Octo- 
 ber tints clothed the trees in gala-dress, he was borne 
 under them by a grieving multitude; and Doctor Tom 
 Pelham led them. 
 
 For some months previous to this terrible bereave- 
 ment, Clara's health had been steadily declining; dur- 
 ing the latter part of her husband's illness she had 
 sacrificed it by constant attendance upon him; and 
 finally, when she felt his hand growing cold in hers, 
 and watched the shadow stealing over his wasted face, 
 her fortitude itself gave way. She went from his 
 funeral to her death-bed. 
 
 Mrs.Peddie, who was now too old to be of any serv- 
 ice, and who had been retained only as a supernumer- 
 ary, because of her past faithful services, exhibited 
 the most grotesque anger when the quondam friend of 
 her mistress, the Widow Farnsworth, was sent for to 
 nurse the invalid. But the cheerful, and still plump 
 little widow, proved, ere a week of her ministrations 
 had passed, that she was indispensable, notwithstand- 
 ing Eleanor's untiring and earnest devotion at her 
 mother's bedside, supplemented by the tenderness of 
 Dane, who read to her, waited at her door for mes- 
 sages, and spent nights of sleeplessness, that he might 
 be at hand if he was needed in the sick room. 
 
 A few days before the end came, something extra- 
 ordinary occurred in Clara's chamber. A stranger had 
 appeared at the front door one morning at an early 
 hour, and demanded to see Mrs. Bardell. Mrs. Farns- 
 worth answered his summons, and explained that Mrs. 
 Bardell was lying dangerously ill, and any message
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 15! 
 
 should be left with herself. The man hesitated, but 
 at length drew from a pocket a packet, which he de- 
 livered to the widow, sternly enjoining her to deliver 
 it into Clara's hands without delay, as its contents 
 were of grave interest to her. It was very securely 
 tied in a thick wrapper of brown paper, and the name 
 Mrs. Howard Bardell and the word Important 
 were boldly written on the outside. 
 
 Mrs. Farnsworth carried the packet into the sick- 
 room, telling Mrs. Bardell not to open it until she 
 grew better, since it was most probably a business 
 matter, and she was in no condition to attend to busi- 
 ness, etc. 
 
 But of course the packet was opened, the contents 
 inspected, read, and then ! 
 
 There came from Mrs. Bardell's chamber shriek after 
 shriek, succeeded by groan after groan then silence, 
 as if some fell sorrow, some indescribable horror had 
 invaded it, ending in death or a swoon! 
 
 Mrs. Farnsworth had come forth from the room, 
 after a time, with a white and horror-stricken face, 
 and eyes in which terror seemed to have taken lodg- 
 ment for all after time, and summoned a servant, 
 whom she sent to bring the doctor. No one was in 
 the house except this one servant, the widow, and 
 Mrs. Bardell, and the latter divulged nothing of what 
 had transpired behind the closed door. It remained a 
 mystery for days afterward; but it hastened Clara 
 Bardell's death, which was now very near at hand. 
 
 In her last hour she requested to be left alone with 
 Dane and Eleanor, to whom she wished to impart her
 
 152 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 last thoughts, to give her last commands, as they 
 knelt in mourning garb at her bedside. 
 
 In a slow half-whisper, with her blue-veined hands 
 resting lovingly upon them, she told them her wishes 
 They were to be married a month after her death, and 
 Eleanor was to wear the wedding-ring upon her own 
 finger, a splendid gem which had been in the captain's 
 family for generations. 
 
 "Six brides have worn it," she whispered, taking it 
 off and putting it in Dane's trembling hand, "and it 
 once belonged to Queen Mary of Scotland. May your 
 life, my darling, be as full of sunshine as hers was 
 full of clouds and storm." 
 
 After that, she lay back upon her pillow for awhile, 
 breathing faintly at first, as though exhausted. But 
 the grieving eyes that watched her face, saw a change 
 coming into it, a change that frightened them. It was 
 not the look of a dying person, but a look of horror, 
 growing in intensity, driving back, by its very energy, 
 the specter that crept toward her. She strove to put 
 down the tumult that surged within her, to become 
 calm, that she might communicate the strange thoughts 
 which would reveal something to them. At last she 
 succeeded; and turning toward the silent watchers, she 
 beckoned them to lean closer to her pillow. 
 
 Death was very near, when she uttered her final 
 words terrible words and she never finished them. 
 
 "Dane," she. whispered, hurriedly, looking into his 
 eyes with an awful expression in her own, "you have 
 become much attached to to Doctor Pelham I be- 
 lieve?**
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 153 
 
 i 
 
 The fair head bowed assent; he was too full of an 
 guish to trust his voice. 
 
 The dying woman raised herself upon her elbow by 
 a last supernal effort; her breath now came in quick 
 and painful gasps, her eyes, sunken and glittering 
 with a supreme light, glanced like scathing lightnings 
 into his, as she uttered, nay, shrieked, into his ears 
 
 "Beware of him! He is the son of Joel Thorp and 
 the poisoner of my husband!"
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 THE CONFESSION OF SILAS THORP 
 
 " Murder was his familiar, and 
 
 Whene'er he beckoned, its red hand 
 
 Fell cleaving." The Conspirators 
 
 On the evening after the funeral of Mrs. Bardell, 
 Mrs. Farnsworth came into the library where, for sev- 
 eral hours, Dane Walraven had been sitting in mourn- 
 ful abstraction, and held out to him, with a shudder- 
 ing gesture, a packet loosely tied. 
 
 "Read it," she said, as she turned to leave the room, 
 "and then do what you think is for the best after- 
 wards. It is from a monster, and may the kind Lord 
 protect you from him, and keep him and his out of 
 your path unless you find him here, and deliver him 
 up to the law!" 
 
 With a feeling of dread, Dane opened the packet and 
 spread its contents upon a table. The first articles 
 his eyes rested upon were two daguerreotypes, one 
 of which he instantly recognized as that of Doctor 
 Pelham; the other was the portrait of a boy of perhaps 
 fifteen years of age, bearing an unmistakable likeness 
 to the doctor. 
 
 "Silas Thorp!" exclaimed Dane, letting the case 
 fall to the floor, in his agitation and amazement. The 
 meaning of Mrs. Bardell, which had been inexplicable 
 
 154
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 155 
 
 at the time she uttered those terrible words, "He is 
 the son of Joel Thorp," appeared in these two por- 
 traits. It explained much; but more awaited him. 
 
 With trembling ringers he took up the heavily writ- 
 ten document which lay before him, and glanced at it 
 with paling features and steel -like flashes from his 
 eyes and then he rang for a servant. 
 
 "Go to Miss Bardell," said he, "and ask her to come 
 to the library." 
 
 Eleanor made her- appearance at once, and Dane 
 showed her the daguerreotypes. For a moment she 
 was overcome. 
 
 "Oh, Dane," sobbed the poor girl, "it is too horri- 
 ble! I cannot bear it." 
 
 "It is horrible," returned he, sternly, "and yet there 
 is more more for you to learn, my poor darling. But 
 sit down here, and I will read this paper to you. Sit 
 still and keep control of your feelings as best you can, 
 for what is written here should be remembered by us, 
 for our own sakes, and for the sake of your murdered 
 father, whose death it will be my duty to avenge by 
 bringing the murderer to justice." 
 
 Eleanor sank into a chair, while with pale com- 
 posure Dane read the infamous pages which we now 
 transcribe: 
 
 "To the widow of Howard Bardell: I send you, 
 with this bit of family history and explanation of the 
 course I have pursued toward your late husband, min- 
 iatures of my humble self at two eventful dates in 
 my life; one was taken when I left England on the 
 Armadillo for America; the other, when I was so fort-
 
 156 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 unate as to revive, under the name by which you 
 knew me, the pleasing (?) acquaintance of the captain 
 of that unfortunate vessel." 
 
 (Here followed a detailed narrative of all the events 
 in the lives of his mother, his father, and himself, 
 with which we are already acquainted.) 
 
 "I went to New York, studied medicine, returned to 
 this city, and took an office as near as I could to your 
 residence, hoping that fortune would afford me the op- 
 portunity I looked for to avenge my mother's death, 
 and the indignities inflicted on my father and myself. 
 Captain Bardell gave me the opportunity sooner than 
 I had expected. I could have saved his life: / took 
 it! 
 
 "Three of the four accursed beings against the hap- 
 piness and the lives of whom my family was sworn to 
 plot, are dead. Walter Walraven's wife was seized 
 in the garden at Greystoke Castle by Crouch and my 
 father, gagged, carried to a certain spot in sight of 
 
 Penrith, and sunk with rocks in the . Walter 
 
 Walraven was struck in the head, while struggling in 
 the Charles River, side by side with my father, Joel 
 Thorp, who hurled a rock at his skull, crushing it, 
 and causing his death. Howard Bardell died from the 
 generous doses of aconite and morphia administered 
 to him by me Silas Thorp! Dane Walraven still re- 
 mains. I could have killed him as well; but there is 
 another fate reserved for him. With all his pretty virt- 
 ues, there is one vulnerable spot in his character, and 
 through that will his ruin be worked out, through the 
 agency of those so deeply wronged by him and his!
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 157 
 
 "When you read this, I shall be on the sea. I reveal 
 all this because you will, in your turn, reveal it to your 
 child the daughter of Howard Bardell and to his 
 ward, the son of Walter Walraven. Farewell until 
 the last blow falls. SILAS THORP." 
 
 When Dane had read the last word of this extraor- 
 dinary confession, he turned in his chair to look at 
 Eleanor. Absorbed so absolutely by the horrible story, 
 he had heard no movement from her; and now, when 
 his glance fell upon her motionless figure stretched 
 upon the carpet, he uttered a cry of dismay, and sprang 
 to her assistance. She had listened to the frightful 
 tale with enforced calmness, until the agony it inflicted 
 became insupportable; then, without a moan, she had 
 slipped to the floor in a swoon. 
 
 When the unhappy girl returned to consciousness 
 she was lying on a sofa, the kind face of Mrs. Farns- 
 worth bending over her, while Dane knelt near her. 
 They were chafing her hands, and bathing her temples 
 with camphor. 
 
 "Oh, Dane, what a frightful "dream!" she exclaimed 
 tremulously, rising to a sitting posture, and pushing 
 back her thick hair with a nervous gesture. "What 
 can it all mean?" 
 
 "It is no dream, my darling," said he, gently strok- 
 ing her hand; "unfortunately, the wretch has told the 
 truth." 
 
 "What that papa was murdered?" she gasped, 
 again growing faint. 
 
 "Yes, that your father was murdered by Silas Thorp, 
 and indirectly, your mother's death lies also at his
 
 158 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 door; and that my father and mother were murdered 
 by Joel Thorp and his accomplice, Jem Crouch," an- 
 swered Dane, in hard and measured tones. 
 
 "Oh, oh it is hideous hideous!" cried the girl, 
 sinking back upon the sofa, while she looked around 
 her with a bewildered stare. 
 
 "And now," continued Dane, an inexorable purpose 
 gleaming in his eyes, "there remains for me a stern 
 duty to bring those three wretches to justice." 
 
 "Oh, Dane, what would you do?" demanded Elea- 
 nor, grasping his arm nervously. A new fear had 
 seized upon her. 
 
 "Hunt them over the world, find them, and deliver 
 them up to justice, or mete out justice to them my- 
 self." 
 
 "Oh, heaven, Dane, do you really mean to follow 
 them up?" she asked, terrified at such a miserable 
 prospect. 
 
 "Again, I say, it is my duty to find the murderers, 
 and to mete out justice to them if the arm of the law 
 will not reach them. It would be retributive justice 
 in either case." 
 
 "No, no, leave them to God!" moaned the poor girl. 
 
 Dane smiled bitterly. 
 
 "Divine justice," returned he, "will take its course, 
 whatever man may do whatever I may do. But these 
 monsters have violated human laws also, and society 
 demands that they be brought to punishment at the 
 bar of human justice." 
 
 "But, Dane, think of the peril to yourself!" urged 
 Eleanor.
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 159 
 
 "If I thought of the peril to myself," replied he, "I 
 should be a dastard; and if I lay supinely moaning 
 the horrible fate of my parents and of yours I 
 should be as heartless a wretch as ever disgraced hu- 
 manity. No, Eleanor, it is a solemn, an imperative 
 duty, devolving upon me alone, and I must perform it." 
 
 "And when how will you undertake to to perform 
 it?" 
 
 "How I shall begin, and how prosecute, the search 
 for these miscreants, is yet to be determined, my love," 
 returned Dane, soothingly. "But," turning with a 
 tender smile toward her, "we must, first of all, obey 
 the dying request of your mother. Immediately after 
 the marriage we will go to England. I have intended 
 to go for some time past; I want to visit the scenes 
 of my childhood, and to see the old manor, where I 
 was born, and to visit Carlisle, the early home of your 
 father. It was a mere accident, and one I greatly re- 
 gretted, that I did not go to the two most sacred 
 places in the world to me when I went to Europe. 
 At Carlisle, perhaps we may hear something, obtain 
 some clew that will enable me to find the murderers. 
 At present, however, let us banish all thought of them, 
 and think only of what we have yet to do here." 
 
 He kissed her tenderly, and went to his room, leav- 
 ing Mrs. Farnsworth to soothe her by reassuring words, 
 and the promise that she would come to her in En- 
 gland, if trouble came to her there. 
 
 Eleanor was but half consoled. She foresaw in this 
 resolve of Dane's a possibility of new sorrows coming 
 upon them. The past was so full of them, she could
 
 l6o DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 endure no more, she whispered to her old friend, and 
 burying her face in her hands, she strove to conceal 
 her distress. 
 
 While she sat absorbed in anxious speculation an 
 hour later, in the same spot on the sofa, old Mrs. 
 Peddie softly opened the library door and peered in 
 at her for a moment with her cavernous eyes, then 
 stole as softly away through the dim passage, muttering 
 in her eerie way 
 
 "Puir bairn, that face o' her, that face o' her! It 
 is the face of one born to surfer and bear for aye. 
 Something is coming again!"
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 THE HONEYMOON WALRAVEN HOUSE 
 
 The marriage of Dane Walraven and Eleanor Bar- 
 dell was consummated in Old South Church during 
 the holiday week, in a quiet manner, no cards of in- 
 vitation having been sent out. 
 
 The wedding-day was beautiful, the bride and bride- 
 groom incomparably handsome, blessed with exuberant 
 health, rich and honored. Surrounded by such auspi- 
 cious circumstances, surely they had just reason to 
 hope for unalloyed happiness in their future. 
 
 Dane had planned a European tour to extend over a 
 period of a year; and having no business as yet to en- 
 gross or confine him, his preparations were easily 
 made; so that by the time the monthly steamship be- 
 tween New York and Southampton was ready to leave 
 the former port, he was on board with his wife, maid 
 and baggage, with no business to transact in Boston 
 other than to draw on his bankers there from time to 
 time for money. 
 
 The voyage across the Atlantic at that period was 
 usually both tedious and dangerous, especially to 
 south of England ports. Nothing, however, occurred 
 on this one to mar the honeymoon of the young couple; 
 and on the first day of February the ship entered the 
 Solent with colors fluttering, a marine band playing, 
 
 161
 
 1 62 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 and a gay group crowding the deck, and eager to 
 debark upon the shores of Old England. 
 
 It was late in the day when the passengers were 
 landed, and the first night was therefore spent in 
 Southampton, at the comfortable "Dolphin." Soon 
 after breakfast the next morning the Southwestern rail- 
 way bore them north, twelve miles to the venerable 
 cathedral town of Winchester. 
 
 "It seems as if we were going to a shrine," said 
 Eleanor, as, snugly reclining in a corner of the warm 
 coach, she looked out with animation at the changing 
 and lovely landscape. The winter was an exceptionally 
 mild one, and many of the trees still retained their 
 green covering. 
 
 "It is a shrine to me," replied her husband, dream- 
 ily, "although my memory tells me but little about it, 
 of course. Perhaps it is best, too, for I could not 
 have any but unhappy recollections. As it is, I feel 
 the most childish curiosity to look at and run over 
 every spot I played in, and to sit in the room in 
 which I was born." 
 
 Eleanor regarded him with glistening eyes, her ten- 
 der sympathy intensified by the depth of the unselfish 
 love she bore him. 
 
 "And I share your curiosity," said she, stealing her 
 dainty hand into his, and giving it a warm little press- 
 ure. "Where shall we stop in Winchester, love?" 
 
 "At the 'Black Swan,' I think. There, I was told, 
 we can obtain excellent rooms." 
 
 At that moment a guard called the station; 
 
 "Win-ches-ter!"
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 163 
 
 "Amen," responded Dane, heartily, bestirring himself 
 with as much liveliness as a schoolboy. 
 
 An hour later, they were delightfully installed in a 
 charming suite at the hotel, the quaint carving and 
 fine old furniture receiving from Eleanor as close in- 
 spection as if she contemplated purchasing everything. 
 
 "It is so un-American," she explained, flitting from 
 one room to another," so suggestive of the seventeenth 
 century. Oh, I know I shall be deathly tired every 
 night for a year, just from looking at old things." 
 
 "Plenty of time to get homesick, Tot," laughed her 
 husband, who sat lazily watching her pretty but un- 
 conscious posings in her charming robe de chambre. 
 
 "Homesick! Not I, you prosy old fellow. Indeed, 
 I assure you, I feel as though I was born here myself. " 
 
 On the day after their arrival, a large carriage took 
 them to Walraven Manor, now owned by strangers 
 who lived in London, and rarely came down to it. 
 They found it occupied by a care-taker, and had no 
 difficulty in gaining access, after stating their object 
 and pressing a fee into the shriveled hand of the old 
 man who admitted them. 
 
 Dane was very thoughtful, on the way back to the 
 hotel, and a dozen times his gaze turned backward, 
 during the brief ride in the open carriage, to view the 
 tall red chimneys' of his childhood's home. 
 
 Eleanor had been excessive in her demonstrations 
 of delight at the beautiful situation of the manor- 
 house, surrounded by groves, meadows, and bordered 
 by the lovely Itchen. Suddenly she leaned over to 
 Dane, pulled his blonde head down to her cheek im-
 
 164 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 pulsively, and put a question which surprised, as much 
 as it delighted him 
 
 "Why not live here always?" 
 
 "Just the question I was asking you, mentally," 
 returned he, showing his pleasure by a kiss on the 
 peachy cheek. "But, would you be content?" 
 
 "And why not, goosey? We would be only two or 
 three hours distant from London, by the railroad. 
 And as for diversion, I should never, never tire of this 
 deliciously historical region and its natural beauty. 
 Old England my father's native country, and yours. 
 Doesn't it sound sweet? Then, we could visit our 
 friends in Boston whenever we chose, you know." 
 
 "You would soon have friends here, " observed Dane, 
 "and in London. My father was a man of large social 
 acquaintance, and people would not be likely to leave 
 us alone, if we settled here." 
 
 Dane thought seriously over the matter, and his de- 
 termination followed his and Eleanor's predilections. 
 An offer was made to the owner of the property, the 
 purchase effected, and Walraven House was once 
 more a family possession. 
 
 Within two months afterward, upholsterers and con- 
 
 , tractors had converted the manor into as charming a 
 
 country-seat as any gentleman in the south of England 
 
 could boast of enjoying. Then the young couple 
 
 moved into it. 
 
 "It seems exactly like coming home," remarked 
 Dane, as he sat down to their first supper and meal 
 in the house. 
 
 "Yes," exclaimed Eleanor, with animation, "and
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 165 
 
 everybody about us who was old enough to know 
 your father, remembers him so kindly, and has given 
 you such a welcome. " 
 
 "That is the English way, " replied Dane. "I love my 
 race beyond expression; I am proud of my Saxon an- 
 cestry, as proud of it as if I had performed some of 
 the deeds that gave luster to their names." 
 
 "Well, who knows but you may yet perform some 
 'prodigy of valor,' and cast additional credit upon the 
 family name. Ah, but this wonderful old city of Win- 
 chester!" continued Eleanor, gazing off at the turrets 
 of the cathedral, in whose venerable sanctuary the 
 upstart Cromwell, belying his Presbyterian faith, once 
 stabled the horses of his troopers. 
 
 "City?" laughed Dane, "a handful of people four- 
 teen thousand." 
 
 "Well, it is greater than many of fifty, a hundred 
 and fifty thousand. It had the honor of giving a grave 
 to Canute, and to Alfred the Great; it was the Saxon's 
 capital, the capital of all England," retorted Eleanor 
 with all the fervor of a school-girl. 
 
 "Ah, you are already naturalized, I see. Well, to- 
 morrow we will explore the country hereabouts. There 
 are tenth, eleventh, thirteenth, and seventeenth cent- 
 ury relics, mounds, ruins, landmarks, and traditions; 
 so you will be able to add richly to your historical 
 cabinet." 
 
 "Oh, I am convinced that I shall really bury myself 
 here," laughed his wife, flashing a bright glance at the 
 beautiful Itchen, that wound its glittering coils among 
 the distant oaks.
 
 1 66 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 A quick shudder passed through her husband's frame 
 at the light words just uttered; and he started uneasily, 
 without in the least comprehending the disagreeable 
 feeling they caused him 
 
 Was that feeling a premonition? Perhaps; a shad- 
 ow was approaching, dark and terrible of import, 
 soon to take shape, soon to eclipse the sun that rested 
 now so gloriously upon these two, while they planned 
 a future which never came!
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 EUGENIE ST. LEGER 
 
 "A dainty queanf 
 
 With ripe, small mouth, white teeth, deep eyes, 
 Where sapphires from Sicilian skies 
 Seem burrowed." The Conspirators. 
 
 During the two months required to prepare the 
 manor for its new occupants, the Walravens had taken 
 apartments in the metropolis at the "Clarendon," a 
 family hotel in New Bond Street, then frequented by 
 the best foreigners who wintered in London. 
 
 Dane was soon discovered by the old friends and as- 
 sociates of his father, and their cards multiplied rap- 
 idly on the cabinet in the reception-parlor. They 
 were delighted to learn that the son of Walter Wai- 
 raven had come to make his home among the glades 
 of Hampshire; and before the spring buds were open- 
 ing in the gardens of Walraven House, a round dozen 
 of gay people had promised to come down in May 
 Dane and Eleanor preceding them a fortnight or more. 
 
 And this brings us to the door of an event, the hap- 
 pening of which led to incredible misfortune to the 
 master and mistress of the manor, and to a series of 
 strange events which will claim our attention hence- 
 forth to the close of these chapters. 
 
 One morning, in the latter part of April, Eleanor 
 sat in her cozy dressing-room, rapidly glancing over 
 
 167
 
 1 68 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 a number of letters brought in by her maid, when Dane 
 appeared at the open door. 
 
 "May I come in?" asked he, anticipating the permis- 
 sion she smilingly gave. 
 
 "You are just in time to be entertained," exclaimed 
 his wife, holding out to "him, in her dainty fingers, 
 an open missive, suspiciously long, and closely writ- 
 ten in fearfully fine chirography. 
 
 "Where is it from?" asked he, eyeing it, but with- 
 out venturing to take it. He had a terror, a nervous 
 dread, of feminine letters. "From London, of course," 
 answered Eleanor, who appeared to have been partic- 
 ularly amused at its contents. 
 
 "What is it?" demanded Dane, indifferently, as he 
 lounged into a seat near the window. 
 
 "Oh, it is not a dressmaker's list, nor a description 
 ot the Queen's last drawing-room, toilets, personages, 
 and accidents. However, it is, after all, from the same 
 correspondent who gives me just such interesting de- 
 tails once a week." 
 
 "You don't wish me to read it, do you? Give me 
 the postscript, and I will be content." 
 
 "No, sir, you must listen to it unabridged. I wish 
 to consult you afterwards. Now: 
 
 "'Mr DEAREST ELEANOR: I write in a perfect fid- 
 get, as I expect a visit every minute from one of the 
 persons about whom I am on the very point of Gra- 
 cious! 
 
 "'Some one came in a moment ago, and I thought 
 it was the very person but it wasn't. 
 
 "'Well, to come to the point at once. I have two
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 169 
 
 of the most original acquaintances! One is a man. 
 His name is Reverend Ebenezer Doolittle, a parson, 
 of course; but he is from Boston. There! I know I 
 have your attention now, and that you will want to 
 hear all about him. You shall, dearest. Imprimis, 
 he is portly, forty, red-faced, short-bodied (he wad- 
 dles!) a bibliomaniac. He is (I whisper this) con- 
 stantly laboring to deceive himself, pretending to be 
 full of sanctimony, to devotion to religion; but it is all 
 cant, all .^//-devotion manlike, you know. But, I as- 
 sure you, he is perfectly original in London; a char- 
 acter; and you know characters are rare. The other, 
 also an original, but not in the Ebenezer way, is a 
 woman. And now, I will describe her faithfully, before 
 I say more of the object of this extremely long letter, 
 so that you may act advisedly in answering me. 
 
 "'Well, here I go: 
 
 "'Her name is Eugenie St. Leger. Nothing com- 
 monplace in that, is there? She is five feet two (de- 
 licious height, the men say,) plump and round a 
 marvel in form, with such wrists and ankles! Her 
 hands and feet are like a Spanish donna's, her features 
 are quite regular, somewhat Grecian, her complexion 
 creamy and clear. Her black eyes have a bluish cast, 
 and actually bewitch one; her black hair is luxuriant 
 and undulating, and she coils it artistically over a 
 superb, classic head. She is soft-voiced, and so per- 
 suasive in her looks, her manner, her speech. Too 
 seductive to be left alone with another woman's hus- 
 band, the women say; but oh, it's amusing, the way 
 mine raves about her! I let him. (Take note of that,
 
 170 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 however.) She is very intelligent got her education 
 in Paris, which is a school for everything. Then, she 
 is only twenty-four. She sings; note that. She came 
 from Naples here, and I met her six weeks ago just 
 after I first met you, you darling. She married very 
 young. Her husband was a mere boy, her guardian's 
 son, who had consumption, and died a year after she 
 married him. Accommodating, was he not? She says 
 nothing of herself. But her bankers are Denby & 
 Cross, and some body or booby found out that she has 
 a fortune there. 
 
 "'Eugenie and I went off to Brussels the week after 
 I met you, and she stayed there until yesterday. We 
 have corresponded since I returned, and she writes she 
 is coming back. Short acquaintance, you will say; but 
 somehow she actually wound herself into my affections 
 as you did, dearest. No, not exactly into my affec- 
 tions 
 
 "'I'm afraid of her! I positively am; I cannot un- 
 derstand her. She has coiled herself around the heart 
 of every man she has met here in society; she is in 
 society, very much so. Nobody knows how she did 
 it, but everything of that kind happens in London, 
 you know. 
 
 "'This is all I know of Eugenie all that anybody 
 knows. It all seems perfectly satisfactory to the men, 
 of course; and of course to the women perfectly unsat- 
 isfactory myself excepted, though I am eccentrically 
 indifferent to pedigree. 
 
 "'And now for the explanation of this: 
 
 "'I have reached it at the very moment I hear the
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 171 
 
 Reverend Ebenezer Doolittle's nasal voice in the hall, 
 inquiring 'if I am ready to go with him to the Found- 
 ling Hospital, in Great Guilford Street.' Heaven 
 knows what he wants there. 
 
 "'Now, I wish to bring my two originals down with 
 me, when I come on your kind invitation next week. 
 May I? I assure you they will prove decided acquisi- 
 tions to your company. Consider well, however, be- 
 fore you say yes; for, I repeat that Eugenie is an 
 object of dread to wives, and of averison to would- 
 be's. Still, I would so like to bring her. Au revoir, 
 dearest.' " 
 
 Mr. Walraven had listened amusedly while his wife, 
 in an inimitable voice, read this effusive billet. But 
 he made no comment when she had finished. 
 
 "What shall I say to her?" asked Eleanor, mischiev- 
 ously eyeing him. 
 
 "Oh, let them come," replied he carelessly. "Un- 
 less," he added, tapping the fair cheek with his fin- 
 gers, "you think I am too susceptible to withstand the 
 young widow. " 
 
 "I'll try you," returned his wife. "I do not propose 
 to hide you, sir, from every pretty woman who threat- 
 ens to make an attempt upon you." 
 
 "Every pretty woman! " exclaimed Dane, rallying her, 
 "you are already infected, it would appear, since the pret- 
 ty woman in the case seems to fill the horizon, eh, Tot?" 
 
 Unconscious prophet! She was soon to fill the hori- 
 zon of both; she was the shadow coming, to darken 
 and to illumine it. A paradox was Eugenie St. Leger, 
 indeed!
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 THE STUDY OF A FASCINATING WOMAN 
 
 " 'Unconscious grace' in her were studied poses; 
 Her very faults would have outwitted Moses, 
 So much they seemed like pity's sacrifice 
 To weaker mortals." Fair Felix. 
 
 The first week in May brought every one of the in- 
 vited guests to Walraven House, and among them, 
 of course, were Eleanor's prolific London correspond- 
 ent and her two "originals," who will henceforth have 
 much to do with our story, and should therefore be 
 introduced at once. 
 
 The Reverend Ebenezer Doolittle was the first to 
 cross the threshold of the manor after his chaperon, 
 and was enthusiastic in his salutations, when the 
 courteous host welcomed him. 
 
 "And you are a Boston boy?" exclaimed he, beam- 
 ingly, his faded blue eyes taking in the tall figure of 
 the "boy" with evident satisfaction. 
 
 "An English boy," replied Mr. Walraven, smilingly, 
 "but reared in Boston." 
 
 "A churchly city, and a saintly," observed Ebe- 
 nezer, with a quaint twang in his gurgling voice, "a 
 lee-tie ultra, perhaps, in religion during its colonial 
 state; but in such days the wolf suckled its cubs in 
 the streets of Askalon, and the gospel was denied by 
 the stranger. Your helpmate is she, also, a daugh- 
 ter of the Puritan city?" 
 
 172
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 173 
 
 "A native," replied Walraven, who was already con- 
 gratulating himself on this very odd acquisition to his 
 party, "but of English parentage." 
 
 "Ah, to be sure. And you have come to abide in the 
 land of your father and forefathers, eh? Quite natu- 
 ral, quite so, yes. Are you of the Methodist faith?" 
 
 "Episcopalian." 
 
 The parson appeared somewhat disappointed. 
 
 "Ah," he observed, "then you will peradventure seek 
 spiritual life in the bosom of the Church of England?" 
 
 Before Mr. Walraven could respond to this observa- 
 tion, Mrs. St. Leger was presented to him by Eleanor, 
 and to the latter he consigned the pious guest, while 
 he offered his arm to the young widow, and with her 
 entered the drawing-room. 
 
 Mrs. St. Leger was all, apparently, that her chap- 
 eron had depicted; and yet, prepared though he cer- 
 tainly had been by the elaborate description read to 
 him by his wife, he started with surprise when his eyes 
 met those of the fair stranger. Unfathomable eyes 
 they were, in which he read nothing but mystery. As 
 she raised them, their glances rested briefly and moved 
 slowly, with a strange quietness in their transient 
 gaze; yet those dark and quiet glances left a subtle 
 influence wherever they dwelt. Her elegant figure, 
 richly though somberly dressed, was the incarnation 
 of sensuous grace as it moved slowly on through the 
 long drawing-room with an undulating motion, which 
 in itself was a fascination. Her rather languid voice, 
 never raised above a confidential tone, conveyed an 
 idea of slumbering power, of mastered passion, at once
 
 174 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 seductive and impressive. In voice and feature the 
 suggestion of power, hidden but alert, was something 
 that one felt rather than saw, and it compelled respect, 
 while it excited opposition. The first evening of her 
 arrival sufficed to give her an ascendancy over the 
 mind of every person with whom her own collided. 
 Ay, collided; for whether it were man or woman, the 
 first impulse was, invariably, to resist her; and yet, 
 as invariably, did each one succumb. To what they 
 succumbed would have been impossible of definition. 
 When she was present, hostility went down before 
 her; when she was absent, it revived. The haughtiest 
 dame of the gentry who met her under the Walraven 
 roof (and it is there we are to study her) forgot her 
 resolves, or abandoned them as useless after half an 
 hour's conversation with the soft-voiced woman who 
 moved with such quiet self-assertion, who appeared 
 so indifferent to hauteur, to chilling reserve, to those 
 oblique glances and that cold scrutiny with which 
 women destroy each other. The hauteur melted into 
 graciousness under the slow glance of her mysterious 
 eyes; the sidelong stare failed under her own languid 
 scrutiny; frowns gave way to conciliatory smiles when 
 she spoke, so sweet was the cadence of her perfectly 
 modulated voice. 
 
 Perhaps the women would have avoided her if they 
 had dared, or if they could have avoided her; but, in 
 the first place, to have attempted to ostracise her 
 would have been the sheerest folly. They would have 
 found themselves deserted, even by their own spouses; 
 for wherever Eugenie was, wherever the scent of helio-
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 175 
 
 trope (her favorite perfume, oddly combined with some- 
 thing else into a chemical mystery, j there the men 
 gathered. Besides, the women, while they wished to 
 repel her, were irresistibly drawn toward her. They 
 submitted; their anger dulled, numbed, by the inex- 
 plicable charms, the undemonstrative yet compelling 
 force, which not one of them could define, and none 
 could resist. 
 
 "Why is it," Walraven asked her one evening, while 
 they were roaming about the park a little apart from 
 the other guests, as they frequently managed or "hap- 
 pened" to be; "why is it, that you have so little and 
 yet so much of the conqueror about you, that you 
 never seek any one, yet they that is, every one is 
 always with you or trying to get into your presence? 
 You are envied by the women, arid if you were ren- 
 dered absolutely helpless at any moment, they would 
 thank heaven for your downfall, and exult in your hu- 
 miliation. Still, you disarm them 'without a word, as 
 often as with a look that has neither resentment, sur- 
 prise, nor annoyance in it. What is the secret of your 
 power over them? It puzzles me." 
 
 Eugenie observed him with amusement betraying 
 itself in her eyes, satire revealing itself in the corners 
 of the sensitive mouth. She motioned him to sit 
 down under one of the beeches, dropped languidly 
 into the settee, and looked at him silently, toying 
 with a spray of jessamine. 
 
 "Dare you answer?" asked Dane, banteringly. 
 
 "Why are you curious concerning my influence with 
 my own sex? It implies that you are indifferent as to
 
 1/6 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 the extent of my influence with your own, or that you 
 do not credit me with having any. " 
 
 "Oh, I am a student of human nature, " replied Wai- 
 raven, cautiously. He had already become conscious 
 that there was danger in the very atmosphere that sur- 
 rounded this woman, and he thought he had been thus 
 far guarding himself well. 
 
 When the ruler of a domain erects a wall on his 
 frontier to prevent incursions into it, his neighbor 
 immediately takes notice. "He is weak at the core," 
 will be his reflection, and he prepares for an assault 
 at once, or watches his opportunity to creep into the 
 citadel through some unguarded way. 
 
 Dane Walraven had imitated the cautious ruler, 
 and Eugenie was amusing herself by counting the very 
 large chinks in his wall! 
 
 Presently she uttered a faint sound a ripple of mer- 
 riment which flowed from her full throat like that 
 which a lute-string gives forth when vibrated by a 
 passing wind-breath. She never laughed loudly, or 
 "heartily," but her dulcet semitones were much more 
 expressive, and they touched the ear with an exquisite 
 sound, which lingered there long afterwards. 
 
 "You are a student of human nature; how interest- 
 ing!" she said, after a demure silence. "I presume 
 you are quite familiar with yourself, for instance?" 
 
 "I fear not," he confessed, showing her another 
 passage through his wall as he proceeded; "of late, I 
 have found the study of others more interesting." 
 
 "Yes? But, now do )'ou really think much progress 
 can be made in the study of other people before know- 
 ing much about one's self?"
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 177 
 
 "Possibly not, 1 ' replied he, disconcerted. 
 
 "Certainly not," declared Eugenie. "And now I 
 will answer your question: / know myself." 
 
 If Dane Walraven had known himself as well, he 
 would have fled that night to the farthest corner of the 
 earth!
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 REV. EBENEZER MEETS THE ENEMY 
 
 * * 
 
 "A man of weight, quite fourteen stone, at least; 
 Shaven, and decent clad; in short, a priest; 
 A sort of Friar Tuck in disposition, 
 Who oft declared red war was his true mission." 
 
 Fair Felix. 
 
 The Reverend Ebenezer Doolittle was an unconscious 
 hypocrite made such by his domestic training. He 
 was the son of a Presbyterian deacon who had held 
 iron rule over his family by way of putting into prac- 
 tice his orthodox opinions He had taught Ebenezer 
 all the outward signs and observances of religion, with- 
 out inculcating its principles; and the latter had, 
 from sheer habit, followed in the footsteps of his 
 austere father. By the time he had reached manhood 
 he was a fanatical biblicist, a Methodist deacon, and 
 in his own opinion a devotee. The faith of his father, 
 severe as its ritual was, not permitting him sufficient 
 latitude for his pharisaical manifestations, he had for- 
 saken it for Methodism soon after the paternal yoke 
 had been lifted from him; and now at forty he was a 
 self-styled evangelist, conversing almost wholly in 
 Bible phraseology it being his chosen duty and ap- 
 pointed task, he said, to make the Bible a household 
 word among the heathen and the worldly-minded. 
 
 One bright morning, soon after his appearance at 
 
 178
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 179 
 
 Walraven House, the reverend gentleman went forth 
 for a stroll by himself through the ancient town. 
 He had been told at breakfast by his host, that the 
 barracks of the troop quartered in Winchester were in- 
 side the palace walls begun by Charles II, and never 
 completed, and he desired to see with his own eyes 
 the profanation of the royal edifice, intending to use 
 the "material" in his contemplated sermon for travel- 
 ing laymen, entitled "How are the mighty fallen! 
 
 Filled with the great theme, he waddled along the 
 street with an accession of dignity which attracted to- 
 ward him more than one glance of curiosity, if not of 
 reverence, until he suddenly perceived at some dis- 
 tance in front of him, a number of rough-looking men 
 engaged in an incipient riot. 
 
 Instantly, the evangelistic tendency asserted itself. 
 
 He hastened forward as fast as his short legs and 
 corpulent body would permit, exclaiming loudly, as he 
 approached the scene: 
 
 "Why do the heathen rage, and the people imagine 
 a vain thing?" 
 
 Not the slightest attention was paid to this majestic 
 if unusual inquiry by the belligerents who were warm- 
 ing for closer work, and the evangelist came nearer, 
 with an offended look in his rosy face, and shouted: 
 "Flee from the wrath!" 
 
 A loud and mocking laugh from his immediate rear 
 caused him to turn his head in that direction, and his 
 faded blue eyes rested in astonishment upon a young 
 girl on horseback, who had just drawn rein, and was 
 coolly watching the threatened melee.
 
 l8o DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 Close behind the young equestrienne, sitting stiffly 
 on a stout cob, was an attendant, a typical flunkey of 
 a groom, who was clad in a long green surtout, a 
 red waistcoat with large pocket flaps, orange-colored 
 breeches, blue woolen hose drawn very tightly over a 
 pair of enormous calves, and cowhide shoes embel- 
 lished with huge silver buckles. 
 
 The close-cropped head of this individual was 
 adorned with a crushed tall hat of white furry material, 
 his face apparently a series of knots was extremely 
 rubicund, his whole appearance, in short, was exceed- 
 ingly grotesque at least to the preacher. His eyes 
 roved rapidly from mistress to servant and back to her 
 again, while his nervous fingers were twined together 
 as though he was struggling to keep them from taking 
 part in the disturbance. 
 
 Apparently, he was on the point of speaking to thi 
 fair apparition, when a movement of the brawlers i\ 
 has direction brought them dangerously near. 
 
 "Take care!" rajig out the girlish voice, as she 
 pointed with her whip at the scene before her. A 
 crowd had been gathering; and, ere the evangelist 
 could retreat, he found himself involved in a bewil- 
 dering maze of people, all of whom were vociferating 
 frantically, leaping about with the agility of kan- 
 garoos, and generally manifesting all the peculiarities 
 and eccentricities of a mob. 
 
 The preacher looked wildly around at the encom- 
 passing sea of frowsy heads, and his eye sought the 
 spot where the young horsewoman had a moment be- 
 fore been, but she was no longer there. Suddenly, he
 
 DANE WALRAVEN l8l 
 
 heard her clear voice rising above the din, and caught 
 a momentary glimpse of her in the very thick of the 
 fight. She had been surrounded, and to all appear- 
 ances, instead of being dismayed, enjoyed it. 
 
 No attempt was made to unhorse the girl; but hos- 
 tilities immediately began between the rioters and the 
 groom, who, in truth, was by no means loath to en- 
 gage with them. Briskly sliding from his cob, he 
 stood with his back against the imperturbable beast, 
 and presented two enormous fists in front of his foes, 
 -houting lustily: 
 
 "'Ere's two pills fcr the biggest two!" 
 
 His mistress had caught the bridle of his horse, 
 and holding her loaded riding-whip dexterously in her 
 other small gauntleted hand, she flashed a look of 
 defiance at the upturned faces. 
 
 "Into 'em, Gingham!" cried she, with refreshing 
 vim, while she urged her spirited horse to the out- 
 skirts of the struggling throng. 
 
 The prospect of breaking a few heads, and getting 
 his own bruised, was apparently to Gingham's liking; 
 for at the command of his mistress he proceeded to 
 deal out blows and kicks in three directions at once, 
 and with astonishing vigor and celerity. 
 
 The situation was not so much relished by the 
 preacher. He had by this time managed to become 
 the central figure in the melee, in disagreeable proxim- 
 ity to a score of dirty fists and grimy faces. In vain 
 were his frantic efforts to extricate him-self from the 
 jam which threatened to deprive him of his chronically 
 short breath; he only succeeded in bringing down
 
 l82 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 upon his own shoulders the blows intended for more 
 fortunate heads. 
 
 A mob is never quite certain who is to blame, who 
 it is expected to hit, or what it is fighting for; and this 
 mob was as willing as any other to fight anything that 
 came in its way, and to hit anything that remained 
 within its reach. The Reverend Ebenezer Doolittle 
 was not only within its reach but conspicuously in its 
 way, and the combat began to center about him. 
 
 But the excellent man's light was not to be extin- 
 guished by a vulgar mob; he was reserved for a better 
 fate, that he might assist in one of the most important 
 scenes in this dark drama. A champion was near, 
 coming to his rescue, as we shall instantly see.
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 A RESCUE. MISS AGNES BLOUNT, "A 49ER" 
 
 Fortunately for Ebenezer, the fair horsewoman and 
 her servant had not left the scene. 
 
 On the contrary, she appeared to enjoy it immod- 
 erately, and she still hovered in the vicinity, waiting 
 for the groom to rejoin her. That individual had 
 finally succeeded in doing so, after some reciprocal 
 hammering, when her dancing black eyes suddenly dis- 
 covered the preacher's predicament. With prompt 
 decision, she charged to the rescue, supported by 
 Gingham, and the two together succeeded in dragging 
 the victim from the mob's clutches. 
 
 Now, the good man secretly loved a fight; to sum 
 up his weaknesses in a word, he was fond of spicy 
 people and things, good wine, pretty girls, and pugi- 
 listic exhibitions. 
 
 As soon, therefore, as he was beyond the reach of 
 the rioters, he stood on the outskirts of the mass of 
 legs and arms that writhed and twisted like the ten- 
 tacles of an octopus, and eagerly watched the scene, 
 oblivious to the fact that his face was scratched, his 
 garments torn and disordered, his appearance decid- 
 edly apoplectic. The fight was now progressing 
 gloriously a few yards away, but swaying a little 
 dangerously again in his direction. 
 
 183
 
 184 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 "Get back further, or they'll gobble you again, part- 
 ner!" called his fair champion, in a tone of kindly 
 warning. 
 
 But here the Anglo-Saxon blood of the worthy gen- 
 tleman began anew to assert its quality; he would not 
 budge a step further. 
 
 "Avaunt, Beelzebub!" came his war-cry in response. 
 
 But here a lurch of the crowd pressed him across 
 the street, where, with admirable strategy, he pounced 
 upon a screen for defense. 
 
 As the struggle between the two factions became 
 hotter and fiercer, so did the noble excitement of the 
 reverend gentleman become more earnest and demon- 
 strative. His eagle eye saw an advantage to be gained 
 by the side nearest him, and his belligerent soul rose 
 to the opportunity. Crouching on all fours behind a 
 barrel of potatoes which but partly hid his portly 
 form from the combatants he assumed the authority 
 of a general. For one moment he bobbed up, with 
 empurpled face and flashing eye showing above his 
 barricade, and shouted with sublime fierceness: 
 
 Hit out from the shoulder! Scoundrels! Cowards!" 
 and immediately bobbed down again behind his novel 
 breast-work, out of sight and reach, as he congratu- 
 lated himself, of the rioters. 
 
 But Mr. Doolittle was over-confident; the very next 
 instant there was a rush toward him, his barrel was 
 overturned, and the dignified follower of St. John 
 rolled over and over again under the vulgar feet of 
 the mob. He had received a stinging blow on the 
 nose, as he went down, which caused him to expostu-
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 185 
 
 late in the liveliest manner, and to forget for a mo- 
 ment the language of the prophets. Another of the 
 rioters approached him as he scrambled upon his legs, 
 and made a pass at him with a stick. 
 
 "Avauntl" shouted the beleagured preacher, dodg- 
 ing the descending cudgel. "Remove thy stroke away 
 from me, Armageddon! Already am I consumed by 
 the blow of thy brother's hand!" 
 
 This last expression of the persecuted evangelist is 
 overwhelming evidence of his agitation; otherwise he, 
 the biblical teacher, could not have failed recollect 
 that Armageddon Satan had no brother; at least we 
 hope not. 
 
 Again did the fair stranger come to his aid; while 
 Gingham created a diversion in his favor, she dashed 
 her horse between his assailants and himself, and 
 urged him down the street at a trot. 
 
 hen the three fugitives had gone at this brisk 
 pace for perhaps a hundred yards, they were met by a 
 posse of constables who were hurrying to the scene of 
 the disturbance, and who stopped them by extending 
 their staves across the street. 
 
 "'Ello!" cried the foremost of the officers, "wot 'ave 
 you been up an' doin' of? Come, be sharp, I say! " 
 
 "My brother," answered the preacher, straightening 
 himself with a movement of dignity somewhat incom- 
 patible with his dilapidated condition, "we are fleeing 
 from the wrath of the ungodly!" 
 
 "Shut up, old penny-tract!" cried the young lady 
 scornfully, to the intense amazement of the whole 
 party. "Say," to the constable, "we're running away
 
 1 86 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 from a mob," she explained sharply, setting her dia- 
 mond-like eyes upon the tipstaff. 
 
 "Hoh! you got mixed in a row with un, did ye?" 
 observed he, grinning broadly. 
 
 "Rather," assented the young lady, coolly, gazing 
 back. "And by the jumping jingo, if there aren't 
 some of 'em coming after us!" 
 
 '"Old 'ard!" shouted the foreman, forming a cordon 
 of his men across the street, as three rough-looking 
 fellows came toward them at a run. But their inten- 
 tions were peaceful; they drew up in line, wheezing 
 loudly, and were seized vigorously by the tipstaves. 
 
 "Wot do ye mean, by breaking the Queen's peace 
 now?" demanded the chief, sternly. 
 
 "Gents," protested one of the men, "we wasn't in it, 
 an' we ain't come after nothink unlawful." 
 
 "What do you want, then?" inquired the young wo- 
 man, "a sermon?" 
 
 "Gents," resumed the man, keeping his bleared eyes 
 glued to the tipstaff, "we just want this 'ere gen'l'- 
 man, and this 'ere lady, to come back with us an' 
 show theirselves to the cops up there wot is a-sayin' as 
 'ow we killed 'em, an' they've took some of our coves 
 for the killin'." 
 
 But the late experience of the preacher had made 
 him suspicious. 
 
 'Don't trust 'em," he whispered to his companion, 
 who seemed inclined to go back, "they hatch cocka- 
 trice eggs, and weave the spider's web! He that eateth 
 of their eggs of sedition, dieth; and that which is 
 crushed breaketh out into a viper!"
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 187 
 
 'Oh, simmer," interrupted she, disdainfully; and 
 turning impatiently away from the stupefied preacher, 
 she said to the grinning officer: 
 
 "Say, cully, you go back there to the fracas, say that 
 you've just met up with the young lady, the lady's 
 groom, and the parson; that the lady's got the cinch 
 on life for a forty year term, that her name is Miss 
 Agnes Blount, (Ag, for short,) and she is now corraled 
 at the George Inn, with her father Mr. Louis Blount, 
 a California 4ger. Tell 'em if they're anxious that 
 we're coming to England; maybe we'll buy a ranche 
 here. We are out from the wild and windy west, and 
 we may stock up with coyotes. Don't mention that, 
 though, till ye get a corner on'em, or if you do men- 
 tion it, why just mention it to yourself: See you later, 
 parson. Come, George Ingham Gingham, for short, 
 eh?" 
 
 With a condescending smile and nod all round, the 
 singular creature whipped into a lively trot, with Ging- 
 ham in pursuit, and left the bewildered men to stare 
 after her and disperse. 
 
 The Reverend Ebenezer made his way as expedi- 
 tiously as his numerous bruises would permit, back to 
 Walraven House, where he found his host and several 
 guests regaling themselves in the butler's pantry with 
 a cold lunch, after a morning with the red deer. 
 
 With an unimpaired appetite he set to, at Dane's 
 invitation, and soon forgot, between the edibles, the 
 ale, and the story of his adventures, all the aches they 
 had produced. Reaching across the board, he grasped 
 a huge piece of mutton pie in both his chubby hands, 
 and exclaimed with unction:
 
 1 88 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 "It is written, that Joseph shall have two portions, " 
 and added, mumblingly, as his teeth sank into the 
 pastry, "see Ezekiel, chapter 47." 
 
 When he had quite exhausted his capacity for every- 
 thing on the board, he gently sighed, leaned comfort- 
 ably back in his chair, and murmured: 
 
 "This was much better than the beginning; and 
 the beginning might have been well, had not Beelze- 
 bub come into the midst of those children of evil. 
 Verily, the tongue is a little member, and boasteth 
 great things. And behold, how great a matter a little 
 fire kindleth!" 
 
 His companions had stolen out of the pantry; and 
 with this last reflection spoken at the empty bottles, 
 the good man gently closed his eyes, and was soon 
 nodding nodding.
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 THE SHADOW FALLS 
 
 
 
 " By his side she sat, 
 Beating upon a crimson mat 
 Her little foot. Her yellow hair 
 Like golden cloud-fleece on her fair 
 White neck uncoiled." The Conspirators. 
 
 May, with its propitious skies, its emerald leaves 
 and scented apple-blossoms, was drawing to a close. 
 
 Several of the guests who had come down to Wai- 
 raven House at the beginning of the month had re- 
 turned to London, among them the chaperon of the 
 two "originals," one of whom had already left with 
 Colonel Blount and his daughter, while the other, Eu- 
 genie St. Leger, still remained. Other London friends 
 had come, however, and there yet numbered a round 
 dozen guests at the manor. 
 
 Eleanor had impulsively asked Eugenie to stay until 
 the end of the month, instantly regretting her hospi- 
 tality, and hoping to hear a refusal. But the young 
 widow was enjoying herself, had no other engage- 
 ments, and amiably consented. 
 
 "It is so charming here and so quiet," she said, in 
 her low tones, turning her fathomless eyes toward the 
 distant river. She was standing in Eleanor's dressing- 
 room, at the pink-draped window, her arms held 
 straight down behind her, the delicate ringers lightly 
 
 189
 
 1 90 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 clasped; an attitude she always assumed when indulg- 
 ing one of her pensive moods. 
 
 "You really like the neighborhood, do you not?" 
 Eleanor asked, glancing uneasily at the exquisite out- 
 lines of the figure, over whose pearl-like neck and 
 shoulders the pink curtains threw a delicate rose-tint. 
 
 "The neighborhood? Oh, yes," returned Eugenie, 
 dreamily, "but Walraven House I shall remember 
 the days I have spent in it as long as I live." 
 
 The expression of the voice, even more than the 
 words, was peculiar; there was a vibration of sup- 
 pressed feeling, and Eleanor experienced a disagreea- 
 ble one, as she conned the words over to herself after- 
 ward. She attached no particular significance to them, 
 and felt annoyed with herself because they persisted 
 in recurring to her mind. 
 
 The true significance she was soon to learn. 
 
 Scarcely a week had elapsed since Eugenie' s coming, 
 when Mrs. Walraven had begun to observe her with a 
 disturbed feeling, annoying and persistent in despite 
 of her efforts to banish it. The beautiful and gifted 
 Eugenie St. Leger, whom nobody appeared to know, 
 absorbed her thoughts continually. If at her side, 
 Eleanor was troubled, if absent, she was restless, and 
 went to seek her. Eugenie never was found alone 
 with Dane Walraven, but generally was nestled in an 
 arm-chair in the library, her ivory-like chin sunk into 
 the hollow of the pink palm, poring over a copy of 
 Byron or Homer. But at the approach of her hostess 
 she would lay down her book, and with one of her 
 slow glances would exclaim persuasively:
 
 DANE WALRAVEN IQI 
 
 "Do let us talk ; ) r ou never discuss the men, a topic 
 always de trop with me. 1 ' 
 
 And Eleanor always obliged her, and always enjoyed 
 such talks; but they left her depressed. She was be- 
 ginning to fear this woman, not for her somber beauty, 
 but she said to herself "illogically, unreasonably." 
 
 Perhaps this fear was intuitive, perhaps it proceeded 
 from "instinct," that convenient term for a latent phe- 
 nomenon which is independent of the will, in its covert 
 operation. 
 
 But fear did not keep these two women apart, it 
 drew them together; and in this now constant com- 
 panionship there was reason. Both were intellectually 
 superior to many of their sex; in education the widow 
 was surprisingly finished; in mere physical beauty 
 both women were almost beyond rivalry, and the con- 
 trast between them lent piquancy to the one and dig- 
 nity to the other. In other respects no comparison was 
 possible; in manners, modes of expression, they were 
 strikingly dissimilar. Both were women of strong will; 
 but while that of Eleanor Walraven was apparent, no 
 one would have ventured to measure the will of Eu- 
 genie St. Leger; it seemed beyond that. 
 
 Every one was now preparing to return to London; 
 the guests were to leave together. 
 
 "So as to break the parting," said one. 
 
 "Well," observed Mr. Walraven, "I have decided 
 that there shall be no parting at the doors of Walraven 
 House." 
 
 "What!" exclaimed Mrs, St. Leger, "can you pos- 
 sibly desire us to take French leave of you two, who
 
 IQ2 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 have provided such delightful entertainment for a 
 month? No, sir, there shall be a parting, and a tear- 
 ful one." 
 
 "But not here," returned the host. "I propose to 
 complete the round of these 'delightful entertain- 
 ments' by an excursion into the famous- New Forest." 
 
 "Capital!" was the general exclamation, and an im- 
 mediate requisition on the butler was made, in antici- 
 pation. 
 
 Forty years ago this New Forest was the frequent 
 resort of tourists, antiquarians, sportsmen. At that 
 date it embraced nearly seventy thousand acres of 
 noble woodland, in the midst of which, however, were 
 many clearings and settlements. It was a possession 
 of the Crown, under the direct charge of a Lord War- 
 den, assisted by a lieutenant, verderers, foresters, 
 keepers, etc., and was much better protected than at 
 present against predatory axmen and relic-hunters. 
 The latter, indeed, were not then as numerous as now, 
 although the temptations that awaited these depreda- 
 tors were quite as great. The Forest contained some 
 of the most interesting and valuable ruins to be found 
 in England, some of them dating back as far as the 
 tenth century, while the origin of others was lost in 
 obscurity. 
 
 Scattered through its vast extent, also, were a num- 
 ber of villages, the primitive and simple inhabitants 
 of which were supposed to subsist by wood-chopping 
 and charcoal-burning, but whose real and secret occu- 
 pation was smuggling. One of these villages, the 
 most considerable, was Lyndhurst, the capital of the
 
 DANE WALRAVEN IQ3 
 
 Forest, distant some ten miles toward the south from 
 Southampton, the road to which passed midway through 
 another quaint village called Minstead. These two 
 points were now to be Visited by Mr. and Mrs. Wai- 
 raven and their twelve guests. 
 
 Three days were to be devoted to the excursion, and 
 the guests were to separate from their entertainers at 
 Southampton, all their luggage having been forwarded 
 to London before leaving the manor. 
 
 The party went down by the railway to Southamp- 
 ton, but there they procured horses, it having been 
 arranged to make the excursion through the Forest 
 on horseback. The day had set in with a clouded sun, 
 but one of the party, who claimed to be a "weather 
 prophets," promised a dispersion of the clouds, and by 
 eleven o'clock they were cantering over the Downs. 
 By the time they reached the border of the Forest, 
 however, heavier and darker clouds appeared, and a 
 sullen, moaning sound swept through the forest, pre- 
 saging a storm. 
 
 Several of the company stopped their horses to list- 
 en, and as the ominous refrain grew louder, seriously 
 debated the question of going forward or returning to 
 the town. 
 
 "Let us go on," urged Walraven, "it is only five 
 miles to Minstead, and there is a very comfortable inn 
 there, where we can remain for the night, if necessary. 
 Yonder comes a forester; I will send him on to se- 
 cure rooms for us, to order a good fire in the kitchen 
 so that we can dry our clothiag if the storm overtakes 
 us."
 
 IQ4 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 A loutish-looking fellow was running toward them 
 at a gait that gave excellent promise of his value as a 
 courier, and Dane immediately hailed him and offered 
 him a half sovereign to carry his message. The coin 
 was speedily tucked away somewhere in the green liv- 
 ery, and in another moment the man was darting at 
 a tangent through the tangled undergrowth where no 
 horse could possibly have followed. 
 
 The party, now reassured, rode on, Dane riding in 
 front with Eugenie, and Eleanor at the rear. But as 
 the path became more difficult" and narrow, the detours 
 necessary to escape the drooping branches changed the 
 relative positions of the riders, until Eugenie and her 
 escort were some distance behind the rest. They had 
 paid little attention to the approaching storm, and at 
 length so animated had their conversation become, that 
 their pace slackened, their bridle-reins dropped on the 
 necks of the horses, and they fell far behind, and were 
 almost hidden from their companions by the thick fo- 
 liage which gathered about them. 
 
 At last the heavy patter of the rain overhead warned 
 the more observant to hurry their gait, and some of the 
 foremost ones shouted back to the others to ride faster, 
 an admonition which every one but the two loiterers 
 heeded at once, as the sound of rapidly receding hoofs 
 now indicated. 
 
 Ten minutes afterward, Eugenie peered forward as 
 they rode under the beeches, and exclaimed: 
 
 "Oh, they have positively gone on and left us here!" 
 
 "Really!" responded Dane, not quite knowing 
 whether to be annoyed or pleased. "Well, we can find
 
 DANE WALRAVEN IQ5 
 
 our way without guides or guardians," he added, 
 laughingly. 
 
 He was wrong. They needed both.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 THE HUT IN THE NEW FOREST A TEMPTED HUSBAND 
 
 Dane and Eugenie were alone in the forest. The 
 thick clouds overhead had darkened the heavens, and 
 a twilight spread through the leafy coverture. Only, 
 the sighing of 'the winds among the beeches broke 
 the stillness which makes the solitude of a great forest 
 so impressive. 
 
 Alone! 
 
 They looked into each others' faces, and the same 
 thoughts seemed to surge through their brains at the 
 same instant. 
 
 Almost, but not quite, had their lips pronounced the 
 same words but they forced them back. Then a sigh, 
 passionate and profound, issued from their troubled 
 breasts. Something, they knew, was impending over 
 them; whether a rod to smite or a hand to bless, they 
 dare not decide. It was a moment of destiny, and 
 they realized it. Whatever they said to each other in 
 that solitary wood, in that isolated spot, would be ir 
 revocable. 
 
 With the same impulse moving them, they started 
 forward; it may have been an impulse of self-abnega- 
 tion. But that can never be known. Fate had de- 
 cided for them, the tempest was its ally, and their 
 volition counted for nothing. 
 
 196
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 197 
 
 Suddenly, a crashing peal of thunder and a purple 
 lightning flash simultaneously jarred the earth, and 
 the surcharged clouds poured upon them a torrent of 
 liquid ice. 
 
 Eugenie's horse sprang violently aside, as another 
 crash shook the earth under its feet, and, dashing it- 
 self against an extending branch, dropped its rider 
 from her saddle, and plunged on, with loud neighs 
 of affright, through the darkening forest. 
 
 Leaping from his horse, now plunging and almost 
 unmanageable, and dragging it forward by the bridle, 
 Dane hurried to the spot where Eugenie lay without 
 motion or sound. Her shoulder had struck the branch, 
 and she was insensible. A pang shot into Walraven's 
 heart, as he knelt over her, and looking into her 
 beautiful face in which there was neither color nor ex- 
 pression, he called her name "Eugenie!" in a tone 
 that would have made the white cheek flame, had 
 she heard it. But the dazzling skin took on no tint, 
 the half-open lips, disclosing pearl-like teeth, seemed 
 only to smile at him mockingly.' 
 
 In an agony of horror and dread, he raised her head 
 and rested it upon his knee, her unkempt hair falling 
 like drapery over it. He took her lifeless hands, and 
 forgetting their delicate beauty, in his terrible fear, 
 beat them together, while he watched the white lids 
 which had closed the mysterious eyes and refused to 
 open under the warmth of his breath. 
 
 "Ah, my God!" he groaned, chafing the pallid brow, 
 and pressing her close to his breast with an indescrib- 
 able tenderness, "she cannot, cannot be dead! "
 
 ig8 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 With a passionate gesture, he stooped lower, and 
 kissed the curved lips, a moment ago so mobile, but 
 now mute and rigid. Death, indeed, seemed to have 
 left its icy breath upon them, and their scarlet hue 
 was gone. 
 
 At the instant he lifted his head, a third and might- 
 ier peal of thunder, a sheet of purple flame, hurtled 
 and quivered around them; and Dane's horse, breaking 
 away with one wild leap, galloped off through the 
 woods, leaving the two alone in its midst, with a can- 
 opy of blackness above them. 
 
 A few yards from where Eugenie lay, Dane per- 
 ceived, by a prolonged flash, a deserted hut, the 
 thatched roof of which appeared to be unbroken, the 
 door of "which had long since been carried off. Into 
 its- one cavernous room, he bore the insensible girl, 
 laid her upon his coat on the moldering floor, and 
 rushed out into the storm. Thrice he made the circuit 
 of the hut, in a wider and wider circle, in the hope of 
 spying some habitation, but he saw absolutely nothing, 
 save a phalanx, on every side, of swaying and groan- 
 ing trees. Only these dumb giants of the forest, clos- 
 ing around him with their tossing arms and strange, 
 wild moan, as though articulating their own woes, 
 while they were beaten and torn by the howling wind. 
 
 Drenched and shivering, Dane returned to the hut, 
 and again bent over the dark and moveless figure, and 
 again seized its chilly hands, while he called upon her 
 to speak to him. 
 
 "Eugenie! Eugenie! Hear me speak tome, in 
 God's name! "
 
 DANE WALRAVEN igg 
 
 But never dead slept better; never were dead hands 
 colder than those he pressed to his bosom; those two 
 little hands so eloquent an hour ago, now limp and 
 waxen and pale. The rounded wrists were pulseless, 
 the blood seemed to have flowed back from them, and 
 frozen at her heart. 
 
 Still he chafed them, the wrists, the hands, the 
 face, holding her close to his breast. 
 
 "Ah, thank God!" 
 
 Watching the pale eyelids, he had seen the soft 
 black lashes quiver; and now a sigh fluttered from the 
 pale lips, a pink tinge stole into the marble cheeks. 
 
 Then the ivory lids drew back, and Eugenie gazed 
 into his face with a wondering expression in her mys- 
 terious eyes, eyes that had haunted him for many a 
 day, though he knew not why until now. 
 
 "What is the matter?" she asked,' faintly. 
 
 Hurriedly, Dane told her of her mishap, and of 
 their situation. Then her eyes closed again, her bosom 
 trembled against his breast, but she said nothing, and 
 lay as still in his arms as if dead. 
 
 The storm without had grown momentarily fiercer; 
 every instant it seemed to threaten the frail tenement 
 as crash after crash, resounding through the forest, 
 shook the ground beneath, while vivid tongues, as if 
 searching for prey, darted into the hut, and revealed 
 to the awed inmates an appalling cavern of blackness 
 outside, in which a hideous carnival was at its height 
 among the shadow)', bending and crashing trees. 
 
 With her return to consciousness, Eugenie began to 
 experience fear; her eyes dilated, and stared out at the
 
 2OO DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 awful saturnalia as if fascinated; but she trembled as 
 she looked, and at last, unable to bear more of the 
 uncanny spectacle, she tried to cover her face with her 
 small hands, as if to hide her eyes from the lightning. 
 
 "Oh," cried the terrified girl, "we shall be rent to 
 pieces here " 
 
 Her voice was drowned by another terrific and pro- 
 longed roar, and she sprang to her feet, and turned 
 toward the doorway, as if to fly. 
 
 "Oh, oh, heaven!" she moaned, and sank down up- 
 on her knees. 
 
 Dane was at her side instantly, and with one arm 
 thrown about her, he took her hands in his, and tried 
 to soothe her, while she shiveringly kept repeating: 
 
 "We shall die "here!" 
 
 "No," said he, abandoning himself to the passionate 
 madness which had seized upon his brain, "no, we 
 shall not die, we will live for each other, Eugenie, I 
 swear it darling, darling " 
 
 His words were smothered, as he sought the heart- 
 s,haped mouth with his hot kisses; and as she knelt 
 there with her head pressed back, her white throat 
 gleaming in the lightning-riven blackness, her black 
 hair streaming downward behind in long and sinuous 
 coils, her wondrous eyes shining like sloes, she looked 
 the siren, the terrible and fatal Circe, drawing some 
 beautiful victim down to perdition. 
 
 At that moment there came a pause in the storm. 
 Not a sound, not the patter of a rain-drop, but a sol- 
 emn hush, as if the very tempest had waited for that 
 unguarded speech, that mad pledge, and the whisper
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 2OI 
 
 that came up from the scarlet lips for terror was now 
 forgotten: 
 
 "Dane, Dane! My love, my love! :> 
 
 Then the storm resumed its sway, and darkness 
 swallowed the hut and all within it.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 "TO-MORROW HE SHALL BE ALL MINE!" 
 
 Dripping and chilled, the Walraven party had 
 alighted at the Minstead inn without observing the ab- 
 sence of their host and Eugenie St. Leger. -A huge 
 kitchen fire awaited them, and they were soon busy in 
 the effort to dry their outer garments before it, prior 
 to retiring to the little bedrooms which had also been 
 provided for them. Suddenly, Eleanor exclaimed, in 
 an alarmed voice: 
 
 "Where is Mr. Walraven?" 
 
 "And Mrs. St. Leger?" inquired another, scanning 
 the faces that peered at each other through the ascend- 
 ing steam. 
 
 No one had seen either of the absent ones after the 
 storm began; and anxiety deepened into positive alarm, 
 as minute after minute elapsed and they had not ap- 
 peared. Eleanor's fears became insupportable, as she 
 listened to the wild shrieks of the wind and the con- 
 tinuous volleys of thunder which accompanied the 
 fiercest lightnings, and she would have started out 
 into the hurricane, bareheaded and alone, if the gen- 
 tlemen had not prevented her. 
 
 While she was debating with them, a stable-boy, 
 with a very scared face, bolted into the kitchen. 
 
 "There be two beasts with saddles on 'em, a-comin' 
 
 202
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 303 
 
 into the yard!" he stammered, and immediately bolted 
 out again. 
 
 Instantly, every one was out in the storm, following 
 the swaying lantern carried by the boy, its flickering 
 and uncertain light revealing a grotesque group, as they 
 gathered around the two steaming animals that stood 
 with heads down, their noses eagerly poking at the 
 stable doors. 
 
 "Ah, I knew it, I knew it!" 
 
 Mrs. Walraven was wringing her hands in a frenzy of 
 grief, certain that her husband had been killed, struck 
 by lightning perhaps. Exclamations of dismay echoed 
 on every side of her, and the gentlemen shouted for 
 their horses. As soon as they were brought out they 
 mounted, and scattered through the forest, shouting 
 as they went 
 
 "Dane! Walraven!" 
 
 But their voices were whirled back on the wind 
 and no sound came from the north save the angry 
 shrieks of the blast. The night rack soon swallowed 
 them up, as they groped onward at the imminent 
 risk of being unhorsed by the branches that reached 
 out into their paths. 
 
 Two of the searchers reached the dismantled hut at 
 the same moment; and by the light of the flashes the 
 interior of the room showed them a spectacle which 
 caused them involuntarily to shout: 
 
 "Good heaven, they are dead!" 
 
 Walraven knelt upon the streaming floor, holding 
 in his arms the drooping figure of Eugenie, whose face 
 was hidden upon his shoulder while both were motion-
 
 2O4 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 less as statues. But at the noise outside added to by 
 the others who had now ridden up, Walraven lifted 
 his head, glanced at the doorway, and called sternly: 
 
 'Who is there?" 
 
 But they had drawn back, after a moment's aston- 
 ished glance at the tableau within, and he rose to his 
 feet, and approached the doorway. 
 
 Then they presented themselves to him; but in so 
 constrained a way that he knew intuitively what they 
 had seen, and knew also how they would view it. 
 
 With the assistance of one of his friends, Dane 
 placed Eugenie in her saddle, and the party at once 
 rode on to Minstead in utter silence. 
 
 Meantime, Eleanor remained in the inn, a prey to 
 worse than anxiety, surrounded by the ladies of her 
 party, who secretly shared her fears, while tr)'ing to 
 reassure her of her husband's safety. The loud rat- 
 tling of the windows, the trembling of the building, 
 and the increasing uproar of the tempest augmented 
 her terror, until it became a difficult task to prevent 
 the wife from rushing out in a wild search for the one 
 who, at that very moment, was betraying her. 
 
 At last, while they were huddled together again in 
 the kitchen, as if their safety lay in close companion- 
 ship, there was a flash of lanterns on the window- 
 panes, and directly came the sounds of horses' feet, 
 and of stable-men welcoming the returned party; and 
 then every one flew to the doors. 
 
 "Dane, Dane! Thank God you are safe!" 
 
 With this natural and tender cry, Mrs. Walraven had 
 darted forward with arms outstretched, as her husband
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 2C>5 
 
 was ushered into the room. But the instant she was 
 about to throw her arms about his neck she shrank 
 back from him and stood still, while she watched 
 the half-angry, half-contemptuous expression on his 
 face, an expression she had never seen there before. 
 And while she looked, he said, almost fiercely: 
 
 "Don't be effusive; there is nothing the matter and 
 you should not indulge in hysterics." 
 
 Confounded by this speech, as strange as it was 
 cruel, Eleanor turned her eyes upon Eugenie. The 
 latter had quietly crept into the room, and was now 
 leaning over the blazing hearth, drying her long hair, 
 which glistened with- the rain-drops, and fell down 
 over her rounded shoulders in an elfish fashion, her 
 eyes glowing strangely, her mouth twitching as if with 
 the effort of suppression, her wet garments clinging 
 like the chiseled drapery of a statue about her form. 
 
 "She is a witch!" murmured the wife, staring at 
 the girl with a new suspicion. Her instinctive fear 
 of Eugenie had then a foundation. Alone with her 
 husband in the midst of that dark forest for hours 
 held there for a while by the storm, that was true, 
 but by their own fault they had been found together 
 in a deserted hut; and the finders had avoided looking 
 at him since their return. What could that mean? 
 
 A heart-sickening faintness came over her; but her 
 pride refused to give her suspicions even a name. 
 She turned to her husband, and with the first touch 
 of hauteur she had ever indulged in with him, said 
 icily: 
 
 "Our friends may wish to go to their rooms now,
 
 2O6 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 and get off their wet wraps. We can have supper 
 served in two of the small rooms for the ladies, and 
 you gentlemen can eat in the dining-room, where you 
 will have to sleep to night; the landlord has provided 
 cots for you, and you will be quite comfortable." 
 
 Dane had been watching his wife furtively for the 
 last few minutes, and he saw by her unusual manner 
 the brewing of a storm, the first in their very brief 
 marital existence. He dreaded the search of those 
 clear and honest eyes, and was secretly pleased at the 
 arrangements which were to separate him for that 
 night from Eleanor. 
 
 Had he known at that moment that he was to look 
 upon that beautiful face upon no other night until it 
 had passed the portals of a tomb, he would have been 
 less complacent. Perhaps such knowledge would have 
 saved him and her; the one from a deadly stroke, the 
 other from a horrible remorse. 
 
 But where passion enters, blindness follows; reason 
 flies before it, and conscience lies stifled. In the 
 heart of Dane Walraven,, at that crisis in his life and 
 his wife's, passion was dominant, and there was room 
 for no other lodger. 
 
 But on this last night, Dane Walraven slumbered 
 feverishly, fitfully, as did one other in that little inn; 
 but still another looked out on the pallid moonlight, 
 now faintly veiled by the parting clouds after the 
 storm, and slept not at all. She was thinking of her 
 recreant husband who had succumbed to the "first 
 pretty woman" she had risked with him. Her lips 
 curled with scorn, as she said this to herself; but the 
 scorn passed, and she whispered sadly :
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 207 
 
 "I was blind; that woman has a terrible gift!" 
 As for him, he was tossing in a half-dream, thinking 
 not of her whom he had sworn to honor and protect, 
 but of the woman who lay in her chamber above, star- 
 ing up at the whitened ceiling, at the red coal in the 
 candle, and murmuring again and again, as the fateful 
 hours rolled back: 
 
 "To-morrow he shall be all mine all mine. My 
 love, my Dane!"
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 THE FALL OF DANE WALRAVEN THE FACE AT THE CHAP- 
 EL DOOR 
 
 Before midnight the storm had entirely ceased, the 
 stars had taken their celestial stations, and a white 
 moon had bared its face, and looked down in a ghostly 
 fashion upon the drenched earth. When the night 
 had fairly waned, the morning opened as smilingly as 
 if Nature had not, a few hours before, indulged in as 
 fierce an outbreak as ever was fanned by the Furies. 
 
 With dry clothing, considerably rumpled, after a 
 steaming breakfast, and under a clear sky, the excur- 
 sionists started off toward Lyndhurst, fully recovered 
 from their last night's depression. The guests en- 
 livened the woods with songs and laughter and jest, 
 as they ambled on under the still dripping canopy, 
 determined to make this last day one of unbroken en- 
 joyment. 
 
 But this last day of pleasure was to close in sorrow; 
 its miserable ending was to be the beginning of a 
 tragedy. 
 
 Walraven now rode by the side of his wife, as if he 
 would make amends for past neglect, or that her sus- 
 picions might be averted. But neither of them profited 
 by this close proximity which three months before 
 would have called from the lips of each those expres- 
 
 208
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 2Og 
 
 sions of endearment so precious to covers. In the 
 breast of Eleanor, all feeling appeared to have died, 
 her soul seemed sunk in apathy, and only her eyes, 
 restless and observant, betrayed her thoughts. Dane 
 was equally taciturn, and rode on mechanically, with- 
 out attempting a word of conversation. 
 
 The constrained manner and the silence of the pair 
 finally attracted the attention of these about them; the 
 men looked grave and thoughtful, the women curious; 
 the former knew, and the latter believed, that some- 
 thing was wrong between the husband and wife, and 
 all attributed it to the agency of Eugenie St. Leger. 
 
 "The widow is doing her work well," whispered a 
 handsome young rider to her escort, as she glanced 
 toward the couple in front. 
 
 "Yes, she displays a vast deal of enterprise," he re- 
 sponded, with a shrug, as he remembered the scene 
 in the hut. The gentlemen had promised each other 
 to say nothing of what they had seen in the forest, 
 and the ladies were left entirely to their own surmises; 
 but their imaginations were quite equal to the neces- 
 sity and to the "occasion." The agility of woman's 
 fancy is something superhuman; and the breast of 
 every one of the fair creatures who cantered after their 
 silent entertainers was in a state of tumult over the 
 probabilities and the possibilities. By the time they 
 had ridden a league, the possibilities had become 
 probabilities and the probabilities had become cer- 
 tainties in their excited minds and they were im- 
 patient to get by themselves, in order that they might 
 exchange and confirm their amiable suppositions and 
 conclusions.
 
 2IO DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 Silence at length settled so generally over those im- 
 mediately behind Dane that he began to notice it, and 
 suspecting its cause, he tried to converse with his 
 wife. 
 
 "Our friends are getting dull " he whispered, leaning 
 toward her in his saddle. 
 
 "Indeed?" returned she, indifferently, without turn- 
 ing her head toward him. 
 
 "Yes," he said, flushing with embarrassment, "had 
 we not better rouse ourselves a little?" 
 
 "You will recover your own spirits by seeking more 
 congenial company," was her cool reply. 
 
 "Eleanor!' 1 exclaimed her husband, fearful of a 
 'scene." 
 
 But Eleanor kept her face steadily to the front, and 
 pa'd him no further attention. He tried to converse 
 with her, in a nervous way, but she hardly heard him, 
 and certainly did not heed him, for her answers were 
 mere monosyllables spoken in a hard voice, while he 
 on his part scarcely knew what he was saying. 
 
 Once, when he heard behind him the low, liquid 
 laugh of Eugenie St. Leger as she answered some 
 badinage, he started suddenly out of his abstraction, 
 and impulsively turned to look back. But his wife 
 was watching him with a scorching fire of scorn in 
 her expressive eyes. He hastily resumed his position 
 in the saddle, reddening as violently as if she had de- 
 tected him in some flagrant act of infidelity. 
 
 "She thinks me unfaithful!" he said to himself, 
 with a desperateness that made him breathe hard and 
 clutch at his bridle-rein.
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 211 
 
 Her eyes at last became unendurable to him, and 
 he spurred his horse forward, leaving her to put the 
 best construction she could upon his desertion. 
 
 But with a tumult of anger and pain within her, the 
 young wife preserved the most perfect outward com- 
 posure, and called after him, with a naturalness of 
 voice which astonished the rest: 
 
 "Dane, keep within sight of us, unless you wish to 
 lose yourself again!" 
 
 Understanding the thrust, his face took fire, but he 
 did not reply. 
 
 Walraven's abrupt departure from Eleanor's side af- 
 forded secret amusement to the ladies, even while they 
 pitied her, with that singular combination of cruelty 
 and compassion characteristic of the sex. But the 
 smiles died out of their faces when they saw their 
 lieges and gallants leaving them and flocking about 
 Eleanor until she was surrounded, and bestowing up- 
 on her an unusual amount of gallant attention. 
 
 Even Eugenie was deserted; but the chagrin her 
 companions exhibited was, to all appearances, not at 
 all felt by her. She gradually dropped to the rear, 
 betraying not the least embarrassment at her isolation 
 from the rest. Her scarlet lips wore a placid smile 
 of contentment, her classic head was poised with as 
 much stately grace as if she had been attended by a 
 score of plumed cavaliers,, her eyes were alight with 
 a strange expression of perfect independence of sur- 
 roundings. The other women of the party, as they 
 saw her unconscious nonchalance, never admired her 
 more, and their glances persistently turned upon her
 
 212 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 undecipherable face and lithe and graceful form, de- 
 spite their impatient efforts to turn their thoughts and 
 eyes elsewhere. 
 
 "She is a perfect enigma." 
 
 "Nothing can disconcert her." 
 
 "She is a curiosity to me." 
 
 Such were the side remarks called forth from the 
 fair ones by her insouciance. But she rode on with- 
 out a glance at them, without a thought of them, to 
 all appearances engrossed by the woodland scene, and 
 by her own seemingly enviable thoughts. 
 
 There was a general feeling of relief when the 
 hostlery at Lyndhurst was reached. To all of them 
 the ride had been an uncomfortable one except in 
 Eugenie's case; in this instance, as in every other, 
 she was still an "original." 
 
 When Eleanor alighted, she felt that it would be 
 impossible to much longer control the tumult that 
 agitated her bosom; she could not quell it, and it was 
 threatening to overcome her. Still she tried hard to 
 dissemble, and angrily strove to banish her fear, be- 
 cause it humiliated her. 
 
 In the neighborhood of the Forest capital was a 
 quaint and anti-mediaeval chapel, part of a rehabili- 
 tated church erected in the thirteenth century. Some 
 three hundred yards beyond this ruin was a cromlech, 
 of mysterious origin, but supposed to be Druidical, 
 although this was a mooted question. A controversy 
 over its authors at Oxford had brought savants and 
 archaeologists to the vicinity, to see with their own 
 eyes what the learned doctors had been disputing 
 about.
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 213 
 
 These two curiosities were the last on the list pre- 
 pared by Mr. Walraven for the delectation of his" 
 guests; and after an hour or two spent in Lyndhurst, 
 the excursionists set out for the chapel and the mys- 
 terious fane. 
 
 Whether by accident or preconcerted arrangement 
 we shall not attempt to decide, but true it was that 
 the last to leave the chapel were Dane and Mrs. St. 
 Leger. 
 
 They had stopped at a memorial stone, gravely spec- 
 ulating over the life history of the venerable sleeper 
 beneath it, until the rest of the company had de- 
 parted and were at some distance from the chapel. 
 
 Suddenly they perceived that they were alone. 
 
 "They have gone on to the cromlech," observed 
 Dane, reflectively, as they approached the low outer 
 entrance. 
 
 "And without us," said Eugenie, musingly. "How 
 I love an empty church ! It is so solemn, so still, so 
 peaceful." 
 
 For a moment there was silence between them. 
 They had paused, thinking. Their breathing was 
 disturbed, their bosoms agitated strangely. They 
 raised their eyes slowly to each other's, questioningly, 
 timidly, an indescribable yearning in them. All in a 
 moment, with almost inarticulate cries, they rushed 
 into each other's arms 
 
 "Eugenie, I love you! I love you!" 
 
 And a smothered response came from her, as he 
 held her to his breast 
 
 "Oh, Dane, Dane, here is my heaven! "
 
 2 14 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 To have heard them, to have seen them, one would 
 have said they were Italian born, so passionate their 
 expressions, their looks, their embraces! 
 
 But only for a brief moment did their ecstasy last. 
 Even while they gave themselves up to it, all the pas- 
 sion within them was frozen by a cry. A very waij 
 of despair smote their ears, and sent them shrinking 
 back from each other. Then they looked toward the 
 arched entrance, and saw a white face, whose staring 
 eyes seared into the brain of both, peering through the 
 shadows at them. It hovered there for one awful mo- 
 ment then vanished. 
 
 "Ah, we are lost!" cried Eugenie, hiding her face 
 upon his bosom. 
 
 "Yes! It is all over," said he, hoarsely, "we must 
 fly!"
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 "YOUR MISTRESS is DEAD!" 
 
 Walraven House had no longer a master. He had 
 said when the ghostly face disappeared from the chapel 
 door: 
 
 "It is fate. Now, everything may go but you! 
 Come!" 
 
 Then he had hurried her forth; they had mounted 
 their horses in mad haste, and had raced, as if for 
 life, to Southampton, boarded a train standing at the 
 station for the north, and left it at Winchester. 
 
 Soon there came a thundering at the doors of Wal- 
 raven House, and the startled servant who opened it 
 started back from the white-faced man who darted 
 into the hall and sped up the broad stairs. It was the 
 master, no longer lord of himself nor of anything save 
 a ruin, deep, eternal, damnable. 
 
 After awhile the servant, cowering in the corner of 
 the great hall, and listening to the shuffling sounds 
 upstairs as the madman huddled his clothes and jewels 
 and money into a leathern trunk, saw the white hand 
 beckoning him from the top of the stairs, and going 
 up, with his knees trembling, and his honest heart 
 swelling with the grief he dared not show, the mad- 
 man said: 
 
 315
 
 2l6 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 "Carry this to the depot, and hasten. I will fol- 
 low. " 
 
 This was what the servant related to his mistress, 
 after her return alone, and while she sat in her hus- 
 band's dressing-room, in the midst of a scattered ward- 
 robe, to hear the miserable details of her husband's 
 flight. 
 
 "And the woman? Did you not see her at the sta- 
 tion?" 
 
 Eleanor was painfully calm, but her face had the 
 look of a woman whose youth was past, whose hopes 
 are behind her, who faces the twilight. 
 
 "I saw her walking along the platform," replied the 
 man, whose eyes were blurred with tears. "She wore 
 a vail over her face, and she kept away from Mr. Wai- 
 raven, and they never looked at each other. When 
 he got into a car, she got in also, but not in the same 
 compartment. Then the train went off to Lunnun. " 
 
 "And he said nothing about his returning?" 
 
 "No, my lady," the man was sobbing now. 
 
 "How did he look? How did he act, then as he 
 got into the coach?" 
 
 "Like one distraught. He appeared like a person 
 going mad." 
 
 "Ah, yes, it was madness!" 
 
 All the servants were dismissed except this man, 
 the cook, and one maid. Walraven House was closed 
 to visitors; and even the parish minister was not ad- 
 mitted. Eleanor had dismissed the world as she had 
 her servants, that world which had, until a few hours 
 before, been a realm of enchantment, a garden filled with
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 217 
 
 flowers of love, and which was now a charnel house. 
 She was not too young to know that those who would 
 come to her now from this changed world would bring 
 to her nothing but insolent pity for a deserted wife; 
 so she, wisely or unwisely, buried herself away from 
 it, and from that day never a laugh was heard in house 
 or manor, and never a song, except the songs of the 
 birds, domiciled in the branching oaks. 
 
 "They build better than I did," she would murmur, 
 as she watched them at their nests. 
 
 Sometimes, when the sun was setting, she would 
 wander along the lovely but solitary banks of the 
 Itchen, clad always in a somber gray dress and hood, 
 her head bent forward as if in mournful meditation, 
 her mournful eyes fixed with a strange regard on the 
 grassy path, oblivious of every one who passed her, 
 unconscious that many a pitying one who knew the 
 sad story stopped to look after her with dimmed eyes, 
 and a sigh for the sorrow that had come to her. Some- 
 times she was seen, while the day was waning, seated 
 at an upper window, her wan cheek resting upon a 
 thin, white hand which was each day growing more 
 attenuated, watching without interest, as she waited 
 without hope, her gaze fixed pensively upon the dis- 
 tant forest, until in the failing light the pale face and 
 drooping figure faded out of sight. 
 
 Months of this inert sorrow brought her swiftly to- 
 ward death; and on a day when the rain sobbed among 
 the trees, and the wind moaned like an afflicted spirit 
 through the dismal house, she came out of her cham 
 her, descended the great staircase like some stalking
 
 2l8 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 ghost, entered the library, and sat down at her hus- 
 band's desk to write her farewell. 
 
 When she rose to go back to her room, she held in 
 her hand two sealed packets. 
 
 The next morning, when the sun was gilding the 
 gables of Walraven House, and putting golden tips on 
 the October-tinted leaves, Eleanor's maid entered the 
 room of her mistress, and found her lying with folded 
 hands upon her bed, completely dressed in a gray cos- 
 tume, with the gray hood over her head and face; and 
 beside her on a night-stand, the two sealed packets. 
 The girl gave a cry of terror when she saw the hands 
 so strangely folded, and the waxen hue of the slender 
 fingers, and the signs of preparation which are made 
 for but one guest the pale horseman. She fled from 
 the chill chamber, and her cry, as she sped through 
 the lawns, and out into the sunlit highway, and on to 
 the town, brought a throng into the house that had 
 never set foot there before. Among them came the 
 kindly minister, who had never felt affronted because 
 he was not received by the mistress of the manor, but 
 whose passing steps had been stopped on the highway 
 by the girl, from whose hysterical cries and broken 
 utterances he learned that his duty would be found 
 there, at last. But something else awaited him, a 
 message from the mistress who lay in dumb rigidity 
 in an upper chamber. The two packets were directed 
 to him; and when he opened them that night in his 
 little study, he read them aloud to his wife. And thus 
 they ran: 
 
 "I have dressed myself for the tomb. Let no change
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 be made, but lay me in the stone vault at the north 
 end of the manor. And I charge you, especially, to. 
 place me in a casket, the lid of which shall be entirely 
 glass, thin, and transparent, and set in a frame to pro- 
 tect it. The casket is to be hermetically sealed. This 
 is my last and solemn injunction; and as you value 
 peace and good conscience, fail not." 
 
 That was all, except her signature, which the first 
 packet contained. The other, more lengthy, gave a 
 diary of the events of her life, and ended with this 
 paragraph: 
 
 "I have made my will, and it is deposited with Mr. 
 S. R. V , the solicitor, in Winchester. There is a 
 legacy to go to you. Funds are also provided for my 
 funeral expenses when I shall be no more a moment 
 that I impatiently await. There is also a provisional 
 sum mentioned to defray the expense of finding my 
 husband, and informing him of the circumstances of 
 my death, when that shall have occurred, and giving 
 him this, my last command, nay, the first I ever laid 
 upon him: That he shall come to my tomb and look 
 upon me, once only; and then consign my body to 
 ashes. " 
 
 The minister and his wife sat for an hour after read- 
 ing the gloomy pages, silent and oppressed. Then he 
 rose, and said solemnly, "I shall carry out her 
 wishes." 
 
 "But, my dear," protested his wife,- with an anxious 
 face, fearing that he meant to go on a journey in search 
 of the recreant, "how will you undertake to find him?" 
 
 The brows of the man of God grew dark, as he an- 
 swered:
 
 22O DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 "I know where he is; I have already sent for him to 
 come here, if he ever expects to see his insulted and 
 wronged wife. I believe he will come, if for nothing 
 else than to implore her to release him, which in some 
 countries could be done." 
 
 "And do you believe," asked the wife indignantly, 
 "that she would listen for one moment to such a shame- 
 less proposition?" 
 
 "Yes, she would listen; and I believe she at least 
 would try to grant it." 
 
 The minister had not stayed at Walraven House 
 after ascertaining that he could be of no assistance 
 there; and as he left the grounds he passed the grave 
 and slow-paced physician who had come back with 
 Eleanor's maid. The weeping girl led the latter into 
 the house and up to the chamber, where a dreamless 
 sleeper lay, with the two other servants kneeling at 
 the side of the smooth, white couch, watching the 
 marble face with dumb anguish. The old practitioner 
 leaned over the bed for a few moments; then he turned 
 solemnly toward the sobbing three who had served 
 her so well and faithfully, and said: 
 
 "My poor children, your mistress is dead! "
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 IN A SHROUD AND COWL OF GRAY THE WRECK OF A TOMB 
 THE PYRE 
 
 " Bury me deep, for I fain would sleep 
 Till the world goes out in flame.*' Nydia. 
 
 Eleanor's directions were strictly followed by the 
 conscientious minister, who took charge of everything 
 in accordance with her implied wish, much to the re- 
 lief of the three servants, who had been left in the 
 great house alone, with no one to direct or comfort 
 them. 
 
 Eleanor's instructions were amplified, -however, to 
 the extent of holding church services over her; and 
 she was accordingly borne to the foot of the altar in 
 her strange robe and cowl of gray serge, lying white 
 and beautiful under the glass lid of a rosewood cas- 
 ket. Death, indeed, had not robbed her of one jot of 
 her beauty, but rather it had augmented, spiritualized 
 it; under that frozen mask it almost seemed to those 
 who looked down upon it, as if a sentient life was 
 hid, cognizant of all that passed the black-draped 
 bier. 
 
 Nearly every one in the parish had heard her story; 
 the world is always busier over other's affairs than 
 over its own; and the church was thronged by friends 
 and strangers, who walked with bowed and reverent
 
 222 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 heads around the dais where lay the fairest flower of 
 Hampshire, broken, yet neither faded nor withered. 
 The face was singularly calm, but the sweet mouth 
 wore an expression so pathetic, so profoundly sorrow- 
 ful/that men, as well as women, sobbed as they looked 
 upon it. The gray-haired old servitor who had played 
 with Dane Walraven's father, and had been taken 
 back to the manor by the son, wept pitifully, as he 
 passed the bier for a final look at the shrouded face, 
 and moaned aloud: 
 
 "Oh, master, master, how could you do it how 
 could you do itl" 
 
 Ah, none but God could answer that. For never 
 fairer bride was given to Death, never a nobler wife 
 abandoned by man. But men have committed acts as in- 
 explicable to themselves as to others; and it is doubtful 
 whether Walraven could have explained the impulses 
 which had led him to deal a blow of such brutal cruel- 
 ty; which compelled him to fly like a coward, before 
 the coming of his betrayed and trusting wife; which 
 inspired him with the madness of a guilty passion, 
 and drove conscience from his soul. But such dreams 
 of bliss as he was indulging while the funeral candles 
 burned over that flower-wreathed bier, were to be of 
 short duration as such dreams ever must be, because 
 nothing but what is right can endure. And the awak- 
 ening! Like the opium-eater's false paradise, his false 
 elysium was girdled by a Golgotha, and when the 
 awakening came, he would find on the one side Con- 
 science, armed with a whip of scorpions, on the other 
 Despair, clutching at his heart with its lean and
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 223 
 
 ghastly fingers, Disgrace behind him, Ruin in his 
 front! 
 
 A long procession, with three humble- mourners at 
 its head, wound through the silent grounds of the 
 manor to the shaded vault, which was to receive its 
 second tenant. It was a square brick and stone re- 
 ceptacle, weed-encompassed, with three niches, in one 
 of which were the coffined remains of Dane Walraven's 
 mother. By the side of this, in the center niche, the 
 most spacious of the three, the casket was deposited; 
 and then the vault-door was closed and Eleanor Wai- 
 raven was left to the only sleep, perhaps, which is 
 painless. 
 
 For several days previous to Eleanor's obsequies, 
 strange and hollow rumblings had issued from the 
 ground in the vicinity of Walraven House, followed 
 by frequent tremblings of its foundations; but the oc- 
 cupants were too preoccupied with the preparations 
 for the last rites, and too absorbed by the great sor- 
 row which had stricken them so suddenly, to take note 
 of anything else. But some terrible, omnific force 
 was at work under the earth, and it was soon to make 
 itself manifest above it. 
 
 On the afternoon of the funeral, and after the 
 people had returned to their homes, the air began to 
 grow stagnant and oppressive, the atmosphere took on 
 a dull, yellow cast, and fitful and brief puffs of hot 
 wind stirred the lifeless and dying foliage, while i 
 the subterranean mutterings and earth-shudderings in- 
 creased rapidly in energy and continuance. Between 
 sunset and dusk there was a complete cessation of the
 
 224 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 phenomena; but Nature was only gathering her awful 
 forces for a more terrible manifestation. 
 
 Soon after dark the commotion was renewed and 
 at nine o'clock there was an upheaval. The earth 
 rocked as if in the throes of some awful agony! From 
 its solid depths came louder mutterings that swelled 
 into a roar ; a thousand beasts of the forest seemed 
 to unite in echoing groans; the rocks on the ridges 
 were ground together, and fell apart; the waters of the 
 river rose, and myriad froth capped waves rolled in 
 seething torrents over the fields and meadows, while 
 resounding thunders shook the heavens, and rever- 
 berated through the gloomy park. And then, Nature 
 became a mighty grave-digger. The shuddering earth 
 gaped, rent by the invisible agency below, and a hun- 
 dred graves yawned wide, as if a human holocaust was 
 at hand. A sickening smell prevaded the moaning air, 
 trees were thrown down, the waters of the Itchen were 
 whirled into the hovering fogs that hugged its bosom, 
 while the darkness grew thick, impenetrable. 
 
 Then the black veil, moveless until now, was sud- 
 denly rent; bursting clouds emptied their hoard upon 
 the quaking earth, with crackling thunders and fiery 
 darts that sped like flaming arrows among the park 
 trees. The winds swept through the parted air, and 
 rode like the squadrons of Hell through lane and hol- 
 low, bearing with them the cries of affrighted and fly- 
 ing people, who fell upon their faces. 
 
 "God have mercy upon us! It is doomsday!" 
 But after that night of horror and havoc, the day 
 came in as peacefully as ever came saint to a shrine;
 
 DANE WALKAVEN 225 
 
 and when three pallid faces looked forth from the win- 
 dows of Walraven House, the air was still, the skies 
 were clear and smiling; and Nature seemed asleep, 
 like some mighty giant tired of his awful carnival. 
 
 A few hours later, Eleanor's maid, impelled by some 
 unaccountable fear, crept down the path which led to 
 the vault where her beloved mistress lay. In a few 
 minutes she came back with flying feet, and fell at the 
 threshold, gasping 
 
 "Go to the vault! It is a pile of ruins!"
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 IN LONDON THE HOUSE IN SOUTH LAMBETH 
 
 Dane and Eugenie were in London. They had come 
 from Paris in September, and were now domiciled in 
 a modest little house in South Lambeth Road, near 
 the approach to Vauxhall Bridge; a queer locality, to 
 be sure, but selected by Walraven for the very reason 
 that South Lambeth district would be the last place 
 in all great London where an acquaintance of either 
 of them would be met; and besides, in the fever and 
 excitement of their position, they preferred isolation. 
 Something unusual however, is always happening in 
 the life of every human being; and with all the fore- 
 thought and prevision of this self-ostracism, the "unex- 
 pected" was soon to derange their prudent plans and 
 decide the fate of both. 
 
 The diminutive house in which they were domesti- 
 cated, had been furnished with quiet elegance, and in 
 every part of it was some proof of exquisite womanly 
 taste, refinement, and luxurious fancy. When Eu- 
 genie's lover made a final round of.the fairy like abode, 
 he turned to his mistress with a smile of admiration 
 lighting his blue eyes, and exclaimed: 
 
 'Eugenie, you should have been an empress, with 
 boundless riches and territory." 
 
 "Why, darling?" 
 
 226
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 227 
 
 "Because you would have impressed your genius up- 
 on your realm, your times, and your people. History 
 would have borne your name down to one generation 
 after another as the sine qua twn of royalty. You 
 would have become a greater wonder than Semiramis." 
 
 "And finally," said she, shaking her head soberly, 
 "having been such a marvel, posterity would deny that 
 Eugenie St. Leger ever had any existence as poster- 
 ity denies the existence of Semiramis, of Homer, and 
 other ancient people who were so unfortunate as to be 
 great or gifted." 
 
 "Well, I at least am superlatively conscious that you 
 dk exist, " said Dane, drawing her passionately to him. 
 
 Eugenie nestled her head against his shoulder, and 
 raised her face toward his with that singularly alluring 
 grace which always overpowered him. 
 
 "Do you see no one beyond me?" she whispered, 
 while her white arm stole around his neck with a ser- 
 pent-like caress. 
 
 But the answer she expected did not come. In an 
 instant he had held her away from him, held her at 
 arms-length, and was staring at her no, over her 
 shoulder, with distended eyes, with whitening face. 
 
 "What what is it?" cried the girl, trembling with 
 an indefinable fear. 
 
 His eyes wandered back to her scared face, a sigh 
 like a groan escaped his lips, which were parched and 
 open, and he drew her abruptly out of the chamber 
 and into the little garden at the side of the house. 
 
 "Sit down here," said he, sinking into a rustic grape- 
 vine divan.
 
 228 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 Eugenie, without taking her eyes from his, and feel- 
 ing some nameless dread, slowly seated herself beside 
 him. Her hand stole quietly into his, but he put it 
 gently away, and folding his arms over his chest, 
 looked gloomily off at the Thames, whose murky stream 
 crept lazily by, and thus in silence they sat for many 
 moments, until Eugenie's suspense became too painful 
 to be borne longer. 
 
 "Dane," she whispered again, tremulously, "tell me, 
 what was it?" 
 
 He turned toward her with a deepening pallor. 
 
 "Did you see it?" he asked, in hurried and eager 
 tones. 
 
 Ah, Conscience, how terrible thou art, when memory 
 becomes thine ally, and admits thee into the human 
 soul! Thou art then at once a minister of justice and 
 an avenger of wrong. The atheist and the infidel hate 
 thee, the libertine curses thee, and Sin flies from 
 thee! 
 
 "You asked me if I saw anything beyond you! You 
 asked me what I saw! " Dane continued, as she looked 
 with dumb amazement into his eyes. "Now, I ask you 
 what you saw? " 
 
 Eugenie began to comprehend vaguely. She 
 turned her head, with a furtive movement, and glanc- 
 ing over her shoulder toward the house, exclaimed: 
 
 "Dane, Dane, you are unnatural, you are haunted by 
 something " 
 
 "Hush!" 
 
 With a cry, he had sprung from the bench and bent 
 toward her, terror depicted in every lineament of his
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 22g 
 
 mobile face, astonishment blending with it, his hand 
 raised warningly, as if to prevent her uttering a word 
 it would kill him to hear. 
 
 Conscience was at work; it was raising phantoms to 
 plague, to scare him. 
 
 "Eugenie," said he, sinking down again beside her, 
 "I must explain all this to you; I can no longer con- 
 ceal it, and it is best that you know it now, even if 
 you take with the knowledge a part of the trouble. " 
 
 "Go on, tell me all," she said in a low voice, watch- 
 ing his eyes anxiously. 
 
 "When Eleanor was fifteen years of age, she began 
 to take an extraordinary interest in the study of meta- 
 physics, which was a part of the course at the seminary 
 she attended. Then she went on to psychology, and 
 would spend hours of the night in pouring over the 
 most abstruse and perplexing subjects, until her habits 
 became almost ascetic. In a young girl, this was a 
 most surprising condition, and to her father it was an 
 alarming one. He forbade her reading any more works 
 on occultism, theosophy, or psychology. But he did 
 not succeed in eradicating from her mind the impres- 
 sions it had received, nor in destroying the mysterious 
 beliefs she entertained; they rather clung to her all 
 the more tenaciously; and while she obeyed her father, 
 she would constantly talk to me about her doctrines, 
 her beliefs, and finally of her own supernaturalism 
 
 "One evening we were sitting together on the porch 
 of her father's house in Boston, and I was telling her 
 of a trip I contemplated to New York. 'Ah,' said she, 
 'that is delightful; it will give me a good opportunity 
 to test my power. '
 
 230 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 "'What do you mean by your power?' I asked, puz- 
 zled by her expression. 'Psychic force,' she replied 
 gravely. 'When you are in New York, stop at the City 
 Tavern, where the Albany and Boston coaches used to 
 start from. Occupy the- front room over the stage 
 office; that was the room my mother and I had before 
 she went to the school.' 
 
 "'And what will happen then?" I asked, skeptic- 
 ally. 
 
 "'I will sit out here on the porch,' she answered, 
 impressively, 'and my other self will go to you! 1 
 
 "'How convenient and inexpensive!' I laughed, 'and 
 shall I see you?' 
 
 "'No,' was her answer, 'not at first; but if I should 
 exercise this power for a time it would grow stronger, 
 and your apprehension would become more and more 
 acute, until you would actually see an embodiment of 
 myself; but you would from the very first feel my 
 presence.' 
 
 "I left her with a jest. The next night I was in 
 New York. I had gone to the City Tavern, an an- 
 tiquated and not very comfortable place, to humor her 
 caprice, as I termed it. Well, that night while I sat 
 alone in my room, reading an account of our Mexican 
 difficulties in a newspaper, I suddenly found myself 
 staring around the room at the dingy old walls, at the 
 two little windows, at the closed door. Shadows 
 seemed to be stealing about the chamber, and I at 
 length became not conscious, but cognizant of a 
 presence, and before I even recalled what Eleanor had 
 promised, my thoughts flew to her. I muttered to my-
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 23! 
 
 self, 'Eleanor is ill something has happened to El- 
 eanor!' I rose up from my chair, throwing my paper 
 on the floor, and paced the room. The stillness was 
 impressive, the undefined shadows moved solemnly 
 around the walls, and the candles, with their 'death's- 
 heads' were supremely gloomy. I grew depressed, but 
 in the very midst of my anxious speculation as to the 
 cause of my depression, I recollected! Then a profound 
 awe took the place of all other feeling. I sat down, and 
 for an hour looked at an invisible something which 
 moved from place to place in the dim and silent cham- 
 ber, until at length I felt that I was alone .again. 
 
 "We hear and read of hallucinations, morbid fan- 
 cies, creatures of a disordered brain. Eugenie! From 
 invisible or unoutlined shadows the soul or other pres- 
 ence of Eleanor has been growing toward a shape, to- 
 ward something palpable, ah, God, toward something 
 visible, since I left her! She said to me on the night 
 before our marriage: 
 
 "'The soul has the power among the few, of impell- 
 ing itself forth out of the body, standing apart from it, 
 and of returning to it. It is a power that comes to 
 few, and to none except through severe and continuous 
 study, discipline, and self-sacrifice.' 
 
 "To-day I felt the presence of Eleanor nay, more 
 than felt it! I have " 
 
 What he would have revealed we know not. An 
 elderly man, holding in his hand a small sachel, stood 
 before him. It was the minister from Winchester.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX 
 
 TO DANE A MESSAGE FROM THE TOMB 
 
 The minister, to whom Eleanor had intrusted her 
 last message to her husband, had left Winchester on 
 the night of the earthquake, which had not been felt 
 north of the town. He had soon passed out of the 
 storm, the wind having steadily driven down from the 
 north; and he had therefore known absolutely nothing 
 of the havoc created at Walraven House, when he 
 reached London. There he had halted only for a few 
 hours waiting for a train to Dover, and had pushed 
 on to Paris, after crossing to Calais, without any in- 
 telligence whatever of the catastrophe. 
 
 The address he had in Paris was No. Rue St. Hon- 
 ore; but when he arrived there, it was only to find that 
 Mr.Walraven had gone to London, after giving up the 
 house in which he had been living for a few weeks, 
 and leaving no London address behind. The disap- 
 pointed messenger had returned to London, where he 
 learned, to his dismay, through a newspaper, that "the 
 Walraven vault had been totally demolished, and the 
 inmates buried under a heap of ruins; that a fire, 
 caused by lightning, had burned a channel through the 
 debris, and consumed the bodies as well as the coffins!" 
 
 Horrified by this intelligence, he had immediately 
 started home by the Southwestern railway, which 
 
 232
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 233 
 
 passes along the east bank of the River Thames 
 through South Lambeth as far as the little depot in 
 Wandsworth Road. While looking out of a coach 
 window, the train crossed Lambeth Road within fifty 
 yards of the house where Dane and Eugenie sat, ob- 
 livious of the eyes that were gazing in amazement at 
 them 'from the car-window. 
 
 The minister uttered an exclamation, which fairly 
 startled every one of the three strangers who shared 
 the compartment with him, and seizing his bag, hur- 
 ried to the door, at the moment the train drew up at 
 the station, and sprang from the car. 
 
 When he stood before the two astonished fugitives, 
 neither he nor they uttered a word for a full half min- 
 ute. Then Dane rose, and with his face scarlet for 
 the moment, managed to speak - 
 
 "You have come here to see me?" 
 
 "Yes, you," returned the unwelcome apparition, with 
 terrible sternness. 
 
 "Will you sit down, or come into the house?" stam- 
 mered the husband as he yet thought himself; for 
 reading no newspapers, and voluntarily cut off from 
 the world as much as his buried wife, he as yet knew 
 nothing of the fact which the minister was about to 
 communicate to him with terrible, merciless direct- 
 ness. 
 
 At the invitation to enter the house the clergyman's 
 own face flushed darkly. 
 
 "In there?" exclaimed he, with half-repressed scorn, 
 "certainly not! " 
 
 Touched to the quick, humiliated, bitterly angry, 
 Dane instantly demanded:
 
 234 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 "Then you will please state your business with me." 
 
 "That I intend to do, sir." 
 
 And without any thing or word to prepare him for 
 the frightful truth, the unhappy man listened to it; 
 while the woman who had been the cause of it all, 
 sat crouching in a corner of the garden-seat, hiding 
 her white face, panting for breath. 
 
 The story at length was told; all the details had been 
 given unsparingly, eloquently; the lonely life for drag- 
 ging months in the deserted home, the blight his hand 
 had laid upon her fair young head, her sweet and holy 
 resignation, while her innocent heart was breaking 
 slowly breaking; the costume in which she clothed 
 herself on the last day that rose between her and 
 peace, the peace of the tomb; her message to him, to 
 come to the burial-vault where she lay in her gray 
 robe; her cowled face, with its mournful lips, looking 
 upward through the glass lid of her coffin at him 
 him, the murderer of his wife; of the tempest, and the 
 earthquake in the night of her sepulture, robbing even 
 her tomb of the pitiful peace she had sought within 
 its icy depths; and, ah, climax of horror of the 
 lightning's torches hurled among the ruins, the kindled 
 pyre, her fair body consumed by the creeping flames! 
 
 God! What horrors were these? Who was this tow- 
 ering Nemesis who stood over him, with his gray hair 
 uncovered and streaming in the dank twilight air, 
 whose shaking hand, now flung aloft, now stretched 
 forth, seemed to fling upon him denunciations, to drop 
 upon it curses which only his holy calling forbade 
 him uttering?
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 235 
 
 Thrice the stricken husband held up his own trem- 
 bling hand and groaned in agony: 
 
 "No more, no more, in mercy cease!" 
 
 But the clergyman was for that terrible moment a 
 man and nothing more: 
 
 " You appeal in the name of mercy!" he thundered, 
 his sunken eyes darting their withering lights upon 
 the cowering figure; "well, take such mercy as you 
 gave but take it from the God you have offended! 
 In me you see only the messenger of your dead wife, 
 of the woman who trusted you, who followed you 
 across the sea without fear and without doubt that you 
 would shield her from ill, that your arm would protect 
 her, that your love would comfort her, the orphan, 'the 
 wife, even in a strange land! Yet it was you who de- 
 serted her, it was you who delivered her up to dis- 
 grace and death, it was you who lured her from her 
 father's tomb in her own land to her own tomb in a 
 foreign one, whose 'love' was as evanescent as a sun- 
 beam, you who killed her! Oh, man, man, how 
 could you!" 
 
 And then the old man strode from the garden with- 
 out one backward glance; deaf to the frightful cry as 
 the reeling form fell headlong upon the turf behind 
 him, to the woman's shriek that followed that fall of 
 her guilty idol, deaf to the pitiful sounds that pursued 
 him. 
 
 The messenger of the dead had done his work; and 
 as he passed on toward the river, the night descended 
 suddenly, and hid under its sable garments a scene of 
 woe, of despair, at once unspeakable, horrible.
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE PARTING OF DANE AND EUGENIE 
 
 " I only know that now I crave 
 The silence that protects the grave, 
 Its solitude, its holy peace; 
 Within that sanctuary cease 
 All conflicts born of Conscience." 
 
 The Conspirators. 
 
 "Dane, do you feel sure that it is not remorse prey- 
 ing upon you? You are not naturally superstitious, 
 and you cannot believe that the dead return ! Believe 
 me, it is remorse, Dane. I know it I feel it myself, 
 terrible, poignant, awful remorse." 
 
 "What? You regret?" 
 
 "Yes ah, God, if I had never met you!" 
 
 The round white arms were flung upon the table in 
 front of her, the white face was pressed upon them, 
 and sobs convulsed the white throat. 
 
 "Eugenie!" 
 
 There was no passion, no love, breathed in the word, 
 nothing but mournful compassion. 
 
 She raised her head, and her look was that of a wo- 
 man without hope, but whose awful misery was an 
 expiation. His face was a reflection of hers; on the 
 features of both was the stamp of an intolerable grief. 
 Some goodness, I verily believe, lies embedded in 
 the worst or meanest human heart, only waiting for 
 the sun of charity and kindness to smile upon the un- 
 
 236
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 237 
 
 inviting soil, to spring forth and. bloom all the more 
 beautiful because all around is barren. 
 
 In the heart of this woman there was a germ of 
 goodness. It was struggling up to the light, it was 
 about to bloom into an act of heroism; she was about 
 to offer up to duty a sacrifice, an atonement to' the 
 dead, reparation to the living. A terrible struggle 
 silently waged between her superhuman will and her 
 unconquerable love for she loved this man almost to 
 madness had ended in the determination to make this 
 heroic sacrifice of herself. The moment was at hand, 
 the hour of atonement had come, and Duty, that inex- 
 orable guide for whom the only beacon is Justice, was 
 leading her at the eleventh hour. 
 
 We, who know that in the awful breach, where 
 wounds, and death, and the slow pain of dying under 
 the pitiless steel may end the charge, see glory beyond 
 the sacrifice, the praise of men, the reward of bravery. 
 But, to yield up all that is left of life, and go down 
 into eternal night without honor, stabbed by the 
 world's sole comment "She could do no less!" 
 
 The greatest sacrifices, the most sublime heroism, 
 the fondest devotion, the noblest fortitude throughout 
 all human history must be accredited to woman. 
 
 To Eugenie St. Leger, the sacricfie she was making 
 involved everything except life in itse/fworth nothing 
 to any one possessing a soul. 
 
 The story told them by the minister had left Dane 
 for hours in a condition of stupor, after the paroxysm 
 in the garden, and he had been carried into the house 
 by some passing boatmen, and laid in an unconscious
 
 238 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 state upon his bed. Eugenie, the only intelligent 
 witness of his agony, had suffered almost as much as 
 he, but the anguish she felt was for him; and when 
 that night she knelt at the side of his couch where he 
 lay moaning in intermittent delirium, she cried out 
 in the bitterness of repentance: 
 
 "Oh, my love, my love, what have I done to you! " 
 The next morning he was calmer, but numbed by 
 the appalling misery at his heart. He ate no break- 
 fast, but walked his room incessantly during the entire 
 day, except when at intervals exhaustion forced him 
 to fling himself upon his face, only to start up again 
 with a groan, and resume the monotonous tread back 
 and forth. When the night came, Eugenie succeeded 
 in coaxing him downstairs and into the dining-room, 
 where he mechanically drank some tea, and chewed bits 
 of dried bread, the first food that had passed his lips 
 since the previous day at dinner. She herself had 
 neglected to eat until she tottered from faintness; her 
 strong will had borne her up, and her mind had been 
 busy during the long night, and through the miserable 
 hours that followed it, in determining her own course. 
 For she felt now an intolerable anger against herself, 
 and a feverish, almost a fierce eagerness to sacrifice 
 herself for him the only one of earth's children for 
 whom she cared a jot. She must go away from him, 
 or he from her, and the parting must be soon. She 
 would have stolen away from the house and left him 
 without a word of farewell, terrible as that would have 
 been to her feelings; but he was prostrated, bewildered 
 by his shock, and it would not have been safe to leave
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 239 
 
 him. When the evening came, however, she deter- 
 mined to inform him of her purpose, and she had 
 drawn him into the small parlor where no one would 
 intrude upon them, or witness the agony she knew 
 would betray itself in her face, at least. 
 
 It was here, seated at a table on which were a few 
 favorite books, that she had begun the hard task she 
 had set herself. 
 
 Dane's exclamation had relieved her of the dread she 
 had felt of his anger for she expected him to be an- 
 gry; forgetting that for the time being, at least, he 
 also was without hope, that the shock w'hich had made 
 her sensibilities more acute had dulled his. 
 
 She looked long into his face before she spoke 
 again, and the haggard features, the mournful eyes 
 would have strengthened her resolution, had she 
 thought of wavering. 
 
 "Dane," she began, clinching her hands together in 
 the folds of her dress, where he could not see them, 
 "it ts remorse which is haunting you, not a phantom; 
 it is the same terrible regret weighing upon your 
 spirit as upon mine; and we can find relief but in one 
 way. " 
 
 "Ah, Eugenie, t's there a way?" 
 
 The question was asked apathetically; he had no 
 hope, he expected no help. 
 
 "There is but one," she answered, her voice harden- 
 ing in the struggle within her. "We must part." 
 
 "Part?" he repeated, fixing his eyes upon her face, 
 which was pallid, but emotionless. 
 
 "It is now seven o'clock. At nine I shall depart 
 from here forever."
 
 240 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 She was speaking slowly, in a hard monotone, and 
 he would have said, with cold deliberation, had he 
 been capable at the moment of reflection. 
 
 "You wish to leave me?" he queried, wonderirigly. 
 
 "I must leave you; it is decided." 
 
 "And where would you go?" 
 
 "To Paris." 
 
 He started, and looked at her with sudden earnest- 
 ness. 
 
 "And why do you go there?" 
 
 "To enter a convent," she answered, in the same 
 hard monotone. 
 
 "A convent!" he exclaimed, catching his breath, as 
 if it were leaving him. "Horrible!" 
 
 "It is decided. A little while there, and then 
 Montparnasse." 
 
 "Oh, God," he moaned, his head sinking upon his 
 breast, "is there nothing left but that!" 
 
 "Nothing for me. For you " 
 
 She did not finish the thought, but looked at him 
 pensively, her face softening, her undiminished beauty 
 hallowed by that look which is seen upon the human 
 face so seldom, and only at the moment of self-abne- 
 gation unconditional, terrible, absolute. 
 
 For a time, there was no word spoken by either of 
 them. Profound dejection showed in every line of the 
 man's face, in every angle of his body, in his restless 
 and wandering glances. The pathos of a sublime 
 resignation, the composure born of utter hopelessness, 
 the shadow of a grief too profound for any human ex- 
 pression, but over all the illumination of a soul re-
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 241 
 
 deeming itself by one mighty sacrifice, that another 
 soul might not be lost shone out through the deep- 
 ening shadows from the still, white face of the woman. 
 
 "Only one more hour," she said, at last, speaking 
 softly. 
 
 Dane raised his head with a restless movement. "It 
 is a very short time," said he, broodingly. 
 
 "It is frightfully brief, and it is still too long!" she 
 returned, solemnly; but he did not understand. He 
 was wondering what he should do after she had left 
 him. But she had decided for him. 
 
 "Dane," she said, "you must take a journey; a quiet 
 voyage on the Mediterranean, where there will be entire 
 change from your old life, nothing to remind you of 
 anything in the past which you must strive to forget. 
 You have grown excessively morbid, your mind is prey- 
 ing upon your body, and will destroy both, if you con- 
 tinue to indulge these moods much longer. Promise 
 me you will do this at once." 
 
 "I will to please you," he answered, apathetically. 
 
 "You will, because it is your duty to do it, " returned 
 Eugenie, firmly. "Find peace, and you will regain 
 hope." 
 
 He shook his head. Hopeless, he said nothing, 
 offered no argument for himself or her, made no pro- 
 test against her going, because he knew it was right 
 she should go, that they must see each other never 
 again, if they valued anything beyond life. They had 
 sat in judgment on themselves, and had not spared; 
 and the decree was expiation. 
 
 "It is nearly time for me to go, Dane," said Eu-
 
 242 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 genie, after another long silence, "you will go with me 
 to the station?" 
 
 "Of course," he answered, nervously. 
 
 "And to-morrow you will dispose of the house and 
 everything in it, to a dealer?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then you must not sleep here again, you must go 
 to some hotel in the city to-night, and take an apart- 
 ment for the time you remain. And now, I want you 
 to go direct to Genoa where you so much desired to 
 go when you were first in Europe. There can be noth- 
 ing there to remind you of any later circumstances. 
 And while you are there, you will receive one and but 
 one letter from me, which you will read alone. Look 
 for it, it will reconcile you to our parting," she con- 
 cluded, with a momentary tone of bitterness. "That 
 is all except our parting, and that will be at the sta- 
 tion, in public. Are you ready?" 
 
 "Yes yes," he murmured, as if groping. 
 
 "Come, then." 
 
 And together for the last time, they went out into 
 the night.
 
 CHAPTER XLI 
 
 THE STORY OF EUGENIE ST. LEGER 
 
 "Men are but playthings in the hands of Fate; 
 Their passions leading strings, their puny hate 
 A whip to lash them with, their loves unlawful 
 Meshes ensnaring them." Fair Felix. 
 
 In a sumptuous chamber in the Hotel de la Ville, 
 Genoa, an hour before sunset, a solitary figure filled 
 the open casement looking out upon the blue Med- 
 iterranean. 
 
 Gay feluccas were skimming the trembling waters 
 and bathing in the golden drops distilled by the west- 
 ern sun, as one by one, or in pairs, they coasted up 
 from Nice. The softly tempered air brought fitful 
 notes of a barcarole to the listless ear, the friendly sun 
 glinted the yellow lock that drooped over the bowed 
 forehead, and a Florentine girl of dark and splendid 
 beauty coquetted in her two oared shell in the track 
 of the sunniest waves, flashing upon the young Anglese 
 now coaxing and now disdainful glances, without one 
 look in return. 
 
 There could be no mistaking that drooping figure at 
 the casement; for Dane Walraven had lost none of 
 his manly beauty, although his face had now a settled 
 pallor, his blue eyes an habitual expression as of one 
 who is conscious of being constantly followed, secretly, 
 stealthily, remorselessly, by something unseen and yet 
 an embodiment. 
 
 243
 
 244 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 He had come to Genoa, as he had promised Eugenie 
 and without a purpose except to obey her. Upon his 
 arrival, an hour before he sat down at the window, he 
 had sent for Paris and London mail, and a letter 
 had been brought to him from Eugenie. It was bulky; 
 and as he looked at it without breaking the seals 
 three lavender-colored seals with a curious monogram, 
 he felt an inexpressible dread of it. For a few mo- 
 ments he was unnerved. 
 
 He had laid the packet down upon his table, and 
 seated himself at the window, astonished at the feel- 
 ing which disturbed him, for which he could not ac- 
 count, but which seemed to presage new calamities. 
 
 "Coward, coward," he muttered, propping his chin 
 with his clenched hand, "every shadow startles me, 
 every noise alarms me! And still there is some in- 
 fluence directing my life which is as incomprehensible 
 as it is terrible yes, terrible!" 
 
 His face grew a shade paler as he uttered the last 
 words, and he glanced furtively around the chamber, 
 until his wandering gaze rested upon the sealed letter. 
 
 "I will read it directly," he said, as if apologizing 
 to the absent writer. "Yes, directly. I wonder what 
 it is all about? It was not necessary to write anything, 
 all was settled. And, as for what was past is it not 
 printed in characters of fire upon my memory, the hor- 
 rible accusation which drove peace out of my heart 
 forever Dane Walraven, the uxoricide! Ay, the wife- 
 murderer! I must teach myself to hear the accursed 
 words, because the)' have less terror for me in the 
 sound than in the thought they astound, petrify me, 
 when I speak them!"
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 245 
 
 The sun had sunk when he picked up the letter from 
 Eugenie, closed the casement through which the even- 
 ing breeze came chill and moist, lighted the gilt can- 
 delabrum over the table, and slowly broke the seals, 
 murmuring, as he did so, in a strangely absent way: 
 
 "Poor Eugenie. Poor child. She a nun. It is 
 horrible. She will die perhaps that is best. I would 
 save her, if I could. But I can do nothing nothing. 
 It is all over. " 
 
 He spread the neatly written sheets on the table, 
 and began to read. Not a word escaped him until he 
 had read to the very end; but his actions while he 
 pursued his task were singular, his look startling, and 
 when he lifted his head, he appeared like one stricken 
 with madness. His hands clasped themselves across 
 his forehead, his lips were drawn back, his eyes were 
 hollow and staring. He had risen now from his chair 
 and for a moment stood erect; then, with a laugh that 
 would have chilled one's marrow, low, bitter, frightful, 
 he fell to the floor. 
 
 An attendant found him there at midnight, attracted 
 by the light which still streamed out of his chamber 
 through the crevices around the door. A physician 
 was summoned, and he pronounced it a "case of cata- 
 lepsy." Professional curiosity led him to read the 
 letter lying on the table, which evidently had some- 
 thing to do with the attack, and when he had finished 
 it, he sent for a clerical friend, an American, to come 
 at once to the hotel. 
 
 "A little religious consolation," said the doctor to 
 himself, as he folded the letter carefully, and placed
 
 246 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 it in the waistcoat pocket of the unconscious patient 
 lying on the bed, "decidedly, a little religious conso- 
 lation will be of benefit to this young American. Ah, 
 women have so much to answer for they're always in 
 it, always!" 
 
 And, as usual, the man escaped sentence. 
 
 The letter from Eugenie was a revelation calculated 
 to unsettle the brain of anyone in Walraven's condi- 
 tion. It was a brief but startling history of her life 
 prior to the fatal coming to Walraven House, and was 
 in substance as follows: 
 
 Her mother was Sarah Crouch! 
 
 Eugenie was the child bequeathed by her dying 
 mother to Mr. St. Leger, the amiable minister who 
 called at the prison so often to see the unfortunate 
 woman. 
 
 The packet left by the latter, received by the min- 
 ister, and deposited in a bank at Carlisle, was sacredly 
 held for Eugenie, and delivered to her by the banker 
 on her twenty-first birthday, no one, not even the 
 clergyman who had adopted her into his family, hav- 
 ing any knowledge whatever of the contents. 
 
 Mr. St. Leger had given the girl a liberal education, 
 he himself being a man of rare erudition, a student, 
 and a philanthropist. On her twenty first birthday 
 Eugenie was an accomplished, educated, and beautiful 
 woman and a poor one. The only son of her bene- 
 factor, a young man only one year her senior, had long 
 indulged a passionate but hopeless love for his lovely 
 little companion, and when he was told by a London 
 physician that he was a victim of quick consumption,
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 247 
 
 and would not live a twelvemonth longer, Eugenie 
 yielded, from pity for the handsome youth, and from 
 gratitude to his father, to the unfortunate lover's 
 entreaties and they were married. They went abroad, 
 remaining in Italy until the death of her husband 
 fourteen months after the marriage and then she re- 
 turned to Carlisle. 
 
 Two days later, she was in possession of the mys- 
 terious packet, the contents of which astounded her. 
 
 Her mother had purloined the Walraven jewels, had 
 secreted them on the same night in the cleft of one of 
 the stones which lined the well at the Royal Inn, and 
 the letter gave minute directions to the daughter how 
 to find the casket. The concluding lines were: 
 
 "And now, my beloved daughter, my poor little one, 
 I have given my character, my life, maybe my soul, 
 to make you rich. Take care of your riches! Take 
 the stones to Paris, find a dealer there, and sell them 
 to him. They are worth twelve thousand pounds; I 
 heard Mr. Walraven say so. He is rich, and has no 
 children, and his wife has sent me to my death be- 
 cause of them. Keep the money you get for them, 
 and be happy. If you give it up my curse will rest 
 upon you!" 
 
 Eugenie had followed her mother's instructions, bad 
 gone to Paris, sold the gems, and received forty-five 
 thousand five-franc notes for them. Her bankers in 
 London, recommended to her by a Paris house, had 
 placed it for her, and she had lived on the income. 
 The principal was unimpaired; and she had made ar- 
 rangements with the bank, before leaving London, to
 
 248 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 place it to his credit Dane's in restitution. He was 
 not to understand that she was in want. She had ar- 
 ranged to take the veil; and this was her farewell. 
 She had hated his name when she had first heard it, 
 and had gone to Walraven House with the determina- 
 tion to destroy his home. She had succeeded; but 
 at a fearful cost to herself.^ Her hate had swiftly 
 turned to love, unreasoning, unconquerable, deathless. 
 All that she could do had now been done, to retrieve 
 her past; and to-morrow she would enter the walls of 
 the Convent of * * * *, without hope, but with a heart 
 at peace with the world she was leaving. 
 
 "Forget me, Dane," she concluded. "Rouse your- 
 self and look around for opportunities to be a useful 
 man; there are so many such opportunities in this hard 
 world, and to be useful to others is surely to secure 
 the greatest amount of happiness attainable in this 
 life." 
 
 It was some days before Dane was conscious of his 
 surroundings; and when he finally opened his eyes, 
 they rested upon a face he knew. 
 
 It was the face of the Reverend Ebenezer Doolittle.
 
 CHAPTER XLII 
 
 MISS AGNES BLOUNT AND HER "ORIGINAL" 
 
 The very spirited acquaintance begun in the street, 
 between the daughter of the "forty-niner" and the 
 evangelist, had been briskly cultivated by the latter, 
 and for her own amusement encouraged by the for- 
 mer. They had become exceedingly good friends, and 
 the habitues of the "George" delighted in seeing them 
 together, and in listening to the refreshingly naive 
 expressions of the handsome young lady, who paid not 
 the slightest attention to her grinning admirers. Mr. 
 Doolittle had developed a spirit of gallantry which it 
 seemed to be the constant purpose of his "chum" to 
 impose upon. She virtually led him by the nose, send- 
 ing him back to Walraven House, while he remained 
 there, upon the smallest pretext when she wanted him 
 to "light out," as she elegantly put it, using him as 
 an errand boy, taking him along with her upon break- 
 neck excursions over the downs, and generally using 
 him up by the time she dragged him back to the inn. 
 When Miss Agnes and her father were ready to leave 
 Carlisle, that domineering young person told her in- 
 dulgent parent that she wished him to invite the Rev- 
 erend Ebenezer Doolittle to join them, as they were 
 about to start for the Continent, and "a parson was a 
 good th*ng to have along." 
 
 249
 
 25O DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 "How so?" asked the colonel, doubtfully. 
 
 "Why to keep you straight, pop," she frankly ex- 
 plained, "and besides, he's a handy sort of chap; he's 
 delightfully chummy, and can't make love to me." 
 
 "But -can you dispose of him without his consent? 
 I know you have a mountain of of " 
 
 "Cheek? Certainly. Well?" 
 
 "H'm, I mean assurance, of course; but, suppose 
 the parson won't go, or can't go?" 
 
 Miss Agnes, who had been looking out of one of the 
 dingy windows in the parlor, suddenly exclaimed: 
 
 "Oh there he is, now. Wait, and I'll settle the 
 question instanter, " and she had shot out of the room 
 before the colonel fairly caught her meaning. 
 
 "Zounds," he growled to himself, as he heard her 
 returning, "I don't know what to do with that girl; I 
 can't curb her. Lucky she's good gold, or her spirit 
 would break things " 
 
 "Say, pop! " cried the young lady, dragging the 
 beaming Ebenezer into the room in a most uncere- 
 monious style, "here's the tender foot himself. Now, 
 you ask him." 
 
 The colonel was a raw-boned, tall, and rugged man, 
 who had learned in the far west to come to the point 
 with startling brevity. 
 
 "Parson," said he, squaring himself before the "roly- 
 poly" figure of the latter, and diving his hands deep 
 into his breeches pockets, "my daughter Ag, here, says 
 you're a bonanza for fun, and she wants you to travel 
 with us to keep the blues away from her. We're 
 bound overland for the Continent, as it's called,
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 25! 
 
 and we start to-morrow morning at chicken-crow. 
 Will you join us?" 
 
 The parson was greatly surprised by this invitation, 
 but inwardly delighted. There was really nothing to 
 prevent him, he had no ties anywhere, no engage- 
 ments; and he had already looked -ruefully forward to 
 the departure of his tyrannical monitress. So, after a 
 moment's reflection, he said, turning toward her with 
 a comical duck of his shining head for the parson 
 was very bald: 
 
 "Verily, where thou goest, I will go." 
 
 "Good enough! Put it there, Dolly!' cried she, 
 extending a slender hand which he heartily grasped. 
 "Now, run back to the manor, say good-bye, pack up 
 your traps, and come here to-night, so that you'll be 
 on deck in the morning by candle-light. Put!" 
 
 The next morning saw the three odd travelers on 
 their way to London, from whence they went to Paris, 
 thence to Marseilles, then to Nice, and a week be- 
 fore Dane's arrival they were in Genoa. Here the 
 evangelist fell in with an English physician whose 
 acquaintance he had made in London, and who had 
 gone there from his adopted city, Genoa, on a brief 
 visit, and the two men, very unlike each other, had 
 nevertheless renewed their short acquaintance with 
 mutual pleasure. 
 
 And thus it came about that Mr. Doolittle appeared 
 in Dane's sick chamber. 
 
 At the first sight of him, Dane had uttered a groan, 
 his mind instantly reverting to the scenes at Walraven 
 House in which the preacher had borne a part, before 
 the ruin was consummated.
 
 252 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 But Mr. Doolittle, who had heard with dismay all 
 the miserable details of the story, besides a brief out- 
 line of Dane's subsequent "affair" from the physician, 
 had cheerfully come to him, determined to do what- 
 ever la"y in his power to divert the mind of his former 
 host from its troubles; and his efforts were soon re- 
 warded. Whatever the reverend gentleman's eccentric- 
 ities might be, he was at least a man of warm im- 
 pulses, and overflowed with jollity, and Dane found 
 himself smiling at some of his droll speeches and com- 
 ical actions before the day was over. 
 
 At the end of a week, Miss Agnes had become tired 
 of Genoa, and had said to her father, as they came out 
 of the wonderful Brignole Sala one morning: 
 
 "Let's vamose!" 
 
 The colonel had agreed, and Ebenezer was informed 
 that: 
 
 "Genoa's played out, Dolly. We're going to Flor- 
 ence. Tell your friend with the dumps by-by, to-night, 
 because we shall peg out for Leghorn by the funny little 
 boat you saw bobbing around in the harbor this morn- 
 ing." 
 
 Mr. Doolittle, or "Dolly," as his chum euphonisti- 
 cally called him when she was in a good humor with 
 him and everything else, looked grave. 
 
 "What's on your mind? Haven't been soft on one 
 of those gypsy-looking girls in theater dress I saw 
 you staring at this morning, hey? Don't get spooney, 
 Dolly, or I'll drop you." 
 
 But Dolly disclaimed any such worldly weakness. 
 "I was thinking of my poor friend," said he, with an 
 honest sigh.
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 253 
 
 "Oh, that Mr. Walraven Well, what's the matter 
 with him? The doctor said he was all right again, if 
 he'd only brace up. However, although he's a real 
 pretty fellow, I haven't as much sympathy for him as 
 would save a claim-jumper from a lasso!" 
 
 "Refrain, my dear friend," remonstrated her com- 
 panion, "judge not, lest ye be judged." 
 
 "Oh, don't spout Scripture over me about this case. 
 Didn't he deliberately skip, and leave his wife with- 
 out even ta-ta?" 
 
 "Truly, he stood not on the order of his going," re- 
 sponded Ebenezer, sorrowfully. 
 
 "And didn't he take up with a nobody from no- 
 where? " 
 
 "She was of marvelous charm," murmured he, think- 
 ing to excuse just a little his friend's sad error. 
 
 "Charm!" Miss Blount's head was tossed disdain- 
 fully, her brilliant eyes scintillated with the indigna- 
 tion she felt. 
 
 "Verily, she was exceedingly beautiful," persisted 
 "Dolly," very humbly, however. 
 
 "Oh, doubtless; but you and I saw one more so, at 
 the Zoo in Paris. " 
 
 "I do not recollect," observed he, trying to remem- 
 ber. 
 
 "Oh, yes, you do; it was the cobra." 
 
 Mr. Doolittle was silenced. But he still bethought 
 him of Dane, to whom he was fast becoming attached, 
 whom he feared to leave for awhile yet, at least. 
 
 "Well," exclaimed Miss Agnes, reading his thoughts, 
 "you can take him along; he's so mopy he won't 
 bother us much with his company."
 
 254 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 ""Thanks, my dear friend, thanks," returned Ebene- 
 zer, much relieved; ''I'll just see if he will accom- 
 pany us," and he was off at once, his ''chum" watch- 
 ing him as he waddled along the terrace with a dry 
 smile on her fine face. 
 
 "Maybe, after all," she mused, "it will be doing 
 some good. The man acts, and looks, as though he 
 was haunted!"
 
 CHAPTER XLIII 
 
 THE WOMAN IN A SHROUD OF GRAY 
 
 "I could swear 
 
 That gown'd intruder sought me here, 
 Well flesh'd, and was no shadow." 
 
 The Conspirators. 
 
 Four persons were walking in the Boboli Gardens, 
 in the city of Florence. 
 
 It was a glorious afternoon, such a one as Florence 
 often yields; when the sky is cloudless, and the in- 
 comparable air is stirred by the breeze from the dis- 
 tant Adriatic. The atmosphere was iridescent, the 
 thousand scents that mingled with its breath were in- 
 toxicating as the juice of poppies. 
 
 Dane Walraven was one of the four who wandered 
 through the maze of foliage, statuary, and miniature 
 specimens of the architecture of the dead republic. He 
 had been easily induced to go with his new friends 
 they were .all three his friends now; his paleface, his 
 hopeless apathy, his look of contrite sorrow, his gentle 
 manners, had impressed even Miss Agnes, who had at 
 first been so prejudiced against him. 
 
 "He can be made over," was her curious decision, 
 after the first meeting with him on the Leghorn boat; 
 and she had concluded, with her usual energy, to at- 
 tempt this charlatanism at once. 
 
 They had been two days in Florence; and a chang- 
 
 255
 
 256 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 ing color, a brighter eye, and a faint interest in his 
 surroundings, had encouraged Agnes to believe in her 
 powers of rejuvenation in very earnest. Dane had 
 shown a quiet gratitude to the fair girl for her little 
 attentions, for the interest she so ingenuously manifest- 
 ed in him, for the efforts she constantly put forth in 
 a hundred charming and disinterested ways, to divert 
 his mind from its dark musings. But the Reverend 
 Mr. Doolittle was inclined to complain of this new oc- 
 cupation at first, and Agnes found it necessary to re- 
 primand him in her own characteristic fashion. 
 
 "You are becoming worldly, Aggie," said he, re- 
 proachfully, as the two walked down to the shore be- 
 hind her father and Dane. 
 
 "See here, Eb, " retorted the spirited young "4ger, " 
 "I am playing .nurse, and if you interfere with my 
 plans, I will lasso you. If you were going about with 
 a long face, and groaning like a sick buffalo, I would 
 tie 3 T our head up in your red bandanna, and give you 
 bran-mash. But Mr. Walraven requires another kind 
 of treatment. He has a diseased mind of another color; 
 and nothing less or weaker than an all round circus 
 will answer, or fit his case. Now subside." 
 
 And the reverend gentleman did subside. He soon 
 began to comprehend, moreover, that the good Samar- 
 itan was really needed, and obeying the promptings of 
 a good heart, he entered warmly into Agnes' little 
 schemes for the rehabilitation of his pale friend, and 
 was duly rewarded by that young lady's approbation. 
 
 There were so many marvelous beauties to be seen 
 and exclaimed over, in the wonderful Boboli Gardens,
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 257 
 
 that twilight had fairly stolen a march upon the loi- 
 terers before the)' recollected that they were to have 
 seen the house of Dante, Via S. Martino, before dusk. 
 
 The colonel suddenly reminded the others of the 
 lateness of the hour. 
 
 "We must go at once," said he, turning about, "or 
 they will not admit us to-night; and we are going to 
 Naples to-morrow morning, you know." 
 
 "Well, come on," cried Agnes, leading, "we can in- 
 dulge in a dog trot here, there are no spectators of 
 Dolly's paraboles;" and she proceeded to demonstrate 
 the fleetness of her own slender feet, by skurrying 
 along the darkening path, while the preacher waddled 
 ludicrously after her, stopping very soon, however, and 
 calling after her to wait for him. 
 
 "Wait for you? What for?" returned she, without 
 pausing. 
 
 "Because because I'm short of wind," explained 
 he, gasping between the words. 
 
 But only a merry laugh answered him, supplemented 
 by a little chaff: 
 
 "Think of one of your sermons, Dolly." 
 
 For awhile longer he bravely persisted in the use- 
 less endeavor to keep pace with his "trainer." 
 
 The colonel had taken a short cut through the shrub- 
 bery, and was already doing well with his long stride. 
 Dane was the last to follow; his thoughts were astray, 
 his step slow, and soon he saw no more of his com- 
 panions, and heard nothing except the clear notes of 
 the girl's voice as it floated back to him. 
 
 Suddenly he stopped stopped as if all motion had
 
 258 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 been shocked out of him. He was at the moment 
 passing among a labyrinth of luxurious trees, tall and 
 interlacing shrubs, surrounding a water-grotto, when, 
 glancing into the depths of a recess on his right, into 
 the mouth of which the rising moon-rays were stealing, 
 he saw the outlines of a woman's form 
 
 A woman in gray, her long robe clinging to her 
 tall and majestic figure, her head nd part of her face 
 concealed by a gray hood or cowl. Still as one of the 
 white statues around her, her eyes, large and inex- 
 pressibly mournful, directed toward him, her cheeks 
 pallid as the moonbeams that rested upon them, she 
 stood peering out at him, a voiceless phantom. 
 
 The portly preacher had sat down on a marble slab 
 at a little distance further on, very much out of breath, 
 and unpleasantly warm. He intended to wait for Dane 
 to come up, and then to propose that they two should 
 return to the hotel, as it would certainly be too late 
 now to obtain admission to the poet's house in Marti- 
 no Way. 
 
 "It will teach that spoiled child of the the plains," 
 he mused aloud, "not to expect me to surrender every 
 atom of my dignity. She shall find me calmly seated 
 in an easy-chair, when she returns heated and tired 
 and fretful, and the levity of of youth will be 
 abashed." 
 
 But the speculations of the preacher were not to 
 "materialize." In the midst of his reflections there 
 came, from the direction of the water-grotto, a cry of 
 such despair, such wildness, such agony, as to hold 
 him frozen to the stone on which he sat. The voice
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 259 
 
 was like and yet unlike that of Dane Walraven, and it 
 came straight down the path he himself had but a few 
 moments ago hurried along, followed by the fanning 
 breeze. He listened; but there was no repetition of 
 the cry, no sound of hurrying footsteps, nothing save 
 the rustle of the leaves, the faint sigh of the wind as 
 it wandered through the branches of shadowy trees. 
 
 "It must have been Walraven!" whispered the awed 
 listener to himself. He strained his eyes in the direc- 
 tion of the grotto, but could see no one approaching. 
 
 No one? 
 
 Even while he looked, he saw the dim outlines of a 
 gray-robed figure, with a gray cowl muffling chin and 
 brow, gliding across the path and disappearing in the 
 dense shrubbery not a dozen yards from him. 
 
 "A woman!" exclaimed he, starting up from the 
 stone base, and peering after the vanished mystery. 
 "But that was not a woman's voice; it was, it must 
 have been Walraven' s!" 
 
 As the preacher hastened along the canopied walk, 
 with eye and ear alert, he called aloud to his friend, 
 and was repeating Dane's name when he came to the 
 spot where the latter had halted. 
 
 Then it was his own cry that rose upon the night 
 air, a cry of dismay. 
 
 Prone in the path at his feet lay the form of his 
 friend, with the face downward, pressing the earth 
 with open palms, inanimate and limp. 
 
 Bending over it, the preacher tried to raise it up by 
 the shoulders; but Dane Walraven was a large man, 
 and he only succeeded in turning the body over, so
 
 260 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 that he could see the face. Then he uttered another 
 cry, a cry of distress. 
 
 The moonlight revealed a countenance as pallid as 
 the face of death itself, though with none of death's 
 calm and passionless expression in the distorted feat-' 
 ures; the eyes were wide open and staring, the open 
 mouth was ghastly; horror and terror were stamped 
 upon the cold face. 
 
 Trembling with fear of he knew not what, but with 
 no thought of flying, the preacher vainly called upon 
 the stricken man to rouse himself. He took the cold 
 and outspread hands in his and slapped them together, 
 seized the drooping head and shook it, but to no pur- 
 pose. It seemed indeed as if the spirit of Dane Wai- 
 raven was at last at peace. 
 
 But now, in the moment of his perplexity, he heard 
 approaching footsteps, then a voice, and 
 
 "The Lord be praised, it is Aggie!" ejaculated he 
 gratefully. 
 
 "Dolly, you old humbug, where are you?" 
 
 "Here, here!" shouted he, his frozen tongue almost 
 refusing its office. 
 
 "Why what in the name of Kismet is all this?" 
 cried the girl, springing toward the strange scene. 
 
 Mr. Doolittle stammered out all the explanation he 
 could give. 
 
 "Well," declared Agnes, gravely, "these are funny 
 happenings, and there's something behind them all, 
 you can bank on that. I'll find them out, too. But 
 why do you stand here staring like a dead Injin, stupid? 
 Here, pop," to the colonel, who had just come up,
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 26l 
 
 "run and dip some of that water out of the pool there 
 in your hat; hurry up." 
 
 The colonel, not being an emotional man, had 
 glanced down at the group without "making remarks," 
 and he now obeyed his daughter, or "the major," as 
 he was in the habit of calling her at home, throwing a 
 liberal shower upon Dane's face,' which soon brought 
 him out of his swoon. It was several minutes, how- 
 ever, before he was able to get upon his feet, or to 
 stand upon them without support from the colonel's 
 arm. When he walked forth from the moonlit gardens 
 his steps were slow and uncertain; and not until he 
 had passed into the open street did he raise his head 
 from his breast and look about him, suspiciously, fear- 
 fully. 
 
 With one of his friends on either side, holding an 
 arm, he reached the hotel in silence, and sat down on 
 the cool piazza, with the manner of a somnambulist. 
 
 There they left him for awhile, going off to consult 
 about his condition, which indeed alarmed them. 
 But Agnes remained. She seated herself near his 
 chair, narrowly scrutinizing his death -like features. 
 As his eyes turned toward hers for an instant, she 
 asked him, with a trace of emotion in her voice: 
 
 "What was it?" 
 
 A terrible expression passed like a shadow over his 
 wan face, he shuddered violently, and answered, in 
 shaking tones: 
 
 "/ saw my wife!"
 
 CHAPTER XLIV 
 
 VESUVIUS, AND THE BAY OF NAPLES 
 
 " She sat beneath the yellow awn, 
 Watching the scene with eye of fawn; 
 Her oval face, with varying tints, 
 Turned tow'rd the sea! " Fair Felix. 
 
 The morning following the mysterious scenes in the 
 Boboli Gardens found Dane Walraven in too pros- 
 trated a condition to journey, or indeed to leave his 
 chamber. His friends of course had no notion of 
 leaving him in such a state; and the little council of 
 three, called by Agnes, decided to call a physician at 
 once, and this was accordingly done. 
 
 The physician, an Englishman, administered a ner- 
 vine to the patient, sent the evangelist in to divert him 
 and reported to "the major." 
 
 "How soon will he be able to .move on, do'ctor?" in- 
 quired the young lady. 
 
 "In two days I think we shall see him sufficiently 
 recovered from the nervous shock to 'move on,' under 
 your espionage," was the smiling reply. 
 
 "Well, what do you call his complaint?" 
 
 "He is impressed with the belief that his wife's 
 spirit has taken shape and is following him," answered 
 the doctor, gravely. 
 
 "So it appears," observed the matter-of-fact Miss 
 
 362
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 263 
 
 Blount, "He said last night that he saw her in the 
 Boboli, you know." 
 
 "So my friend Doolittle informs me." 
 
 "Well, his wife was cremated, so it is not probable 
 there was enough material left to make a shape out 
 of, is it?" 
 
 "Scarcely; but the mind constructs wonderful fab- 
 rics and figures out of the impalpable." 
 
 "That's so. It's a disease, isn't it?" 
 
 "Y-es," admitted the practitioner, with queer hesita- 
 tion for so matter-of-fact an appearing person. 
 
 "What do you call it?" 
 
 "I really can give it no positive definition. There 
 are hallucinations, as you are aware, to which highly 
 sensitive organizations are not unfrequently subject, as 
 also are persons of abnormal habits. But here is a 
 man of splendid bodily powers, with no organic dis- 
 ease, no derangement of the bodily functions to super- 
 induce or cause such idiosyncrasies; and yet who per- 
 sists in believing the most extraordinary things, and 
 who is overcome without warning by what he calls 
 visitations from the dead!" 
 
 "It's a queer case, that's a fact," assented Agnes, 
 demurely; <: and I really think, after you leave him, we 
 shall have to be his doctors." 
 
 "You could do very much, I am sure," observed 
 the physician, glancing at her bright, fair face and 
 graceful figure. 
 
 "I say, Dolly," exclaimed she, utterly impervious to 
 compliment, "can't you exorcise the demon, or what 
 ever it is? It's right in your line old humbug."
 
 264 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 "Alas," returned Dolly, who with half-closed eyes 
 was lazily puffing from a long church warden, "it is 
 not an ordinary devil that afflicts our brother, you see; 
 it is a beautiful spirit of whose presence he complains 
 and the Scriptures have not provided for such an 
 anomalous case. Besides," with a sigh, "in this age of 
 unbelief, Apollyon and his myrmidons take upon them- 
 selves so many forms, many of them alluring to the 
 carnal eye of man, that we of the sacred cloth cannot, 
 like the prophets of old, protect our people from their 
 assaults." 
 
 "Humph," rejoined Miss Agnes, contemptuously, 
 "well, I have a plan for the boy's cure." 
 
 "Propound it, oh, daughter of Heth," purred the 
 placid smoker 
 
 "We'll keep him with us, keep him going, keep 
 him busy, and keep him tired." 
 
 "Excellent! Tonic, regimen, exercise, diversion," 
 was the physician's comment, as he departed. 
 
 "Does your friend ride?" asked Agnes, full of her 
 idea. 
 
 "Like a centaur," replied Dolly. 
 
 "Good enough! You don't; you never would have 
 done for old Kentuck, Eb, old boy, " 
 
 "Ah, my beloved sister," retorted Eb, reproachfully, 
 "I have devoted myself to the service of the Lord, not 
 to the ring-master." 
 
 "Pity you didn't; you would have made such a jolly 
 tumbler! " 
 
 This irreverent speech received no notice from Mr. 
 Doolittle except a gentle sigh; and failing to rouse
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 265 
 
 him, Miss Blount left him to his pipe and his nap, and 
 posted off to consult "pop" concerning the treatment 
 she proposed to adopt in Mr. Walraven's strange case 
 
 That night, Dane went to his friend's room. 
 
 "Let us leave here to-morrow," said he, feverishly. 
 
 He was haggard and wan; and as he sank into a 
 chair, the preacher observed that he drew his breath 
 painfully, his eyes wandered nervously about the 
 chamber, and there was a covert excitement in his 
 manner distressingly apparent. 
 
 "But you are not yet well enough to travel," object- 
 ed the preacher. 
 
 "Nevertheless, I must leave here, or I shall be still 
 worse," replied Wa haven, with a shudder. "It is im- 
 possible for me to remain here more than one night; 
 I could not endure it." 
 
 "Very well, we have only delayed on your account. 
 We will start in the morning, for Naples or Rome. " 
 
 "I care not," returned the sufferer, wearily, "only 
 let us go away." 
 
 They departed next day, not stopping at Rome, but 
 proceeding first to Naples, where they secured apart- 
 ments in a hotel with windows and piazza, overlook- 
 ing the bay. 
 
 Within two hours after dinner, the enterprising little 
 "49er" had bargained for a gondola, and insisted upon 
 having a moonlight ride on the water famed for its 
 placid beauty. 
 
 There could be no reasonable objection to so de- 
 lightful an excursion, and none was offered. Even 
 Walraven stirred with some show of interest when
 
 266 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 they went down to the smooth beach, and looked out 
 dreamily over the wonderful expanse of molten silver 
 which sent its murmuring ripples to his feet. 
 
 On that particular night, indeed, the bay was mag- 
 nificent. Its bosom trembled under the soft caresses 
 of the coast wind that brought with it the perfumes 
 of Palermo and Messina; it gave back the thousand 
 lights reflected in its clear depths from the gayly 
 awned boats that moved hither and thither in every 
 direction in picturesque confusion. 
 
 Mr. Doolittle had been placed by the side of the 
 colonel, while Agnes had seated herself at the stern 
 with Dane. Her vivacity of manner and piquant ex- 
 clamations soon drew him out of himself, at least as 
 far as it was possible for him to banish the oppres- 
 sion which had so long weighed upon him. He loved 
 the beautiful too well not to be fascinated by the 
 scene around him; while his social disposition found a 
 refreshing companionship in the attractive girl at his 
 side who lacked neither wit nor intelligence; who, 
 thought he, was certainly like no one in the world ex- 
 cept herself. 
 
 As for Agnes, she was becoming more and more in- 
 terested in her patient. He was not, after all, a 
 heartless villain, as she had pictured him in her 
 thoughts after hearing of his desertion of his beautiful 
 wife and of the terrible consequences of his desertion. 
 Of course his sin had been enormous, but its punish- 
 ment had been swift and merciless, and besides, he 
 was absolutely penitent. 
 
 "The giving up of that Eugenie St. Leger, " she
 
 DANE VVALRAVEN 367 
 
 had remarked to her father, "is a proof of his sincerity, 
 and there is hope for him yet." 
 
 She did not know that it was Eugenie who had de- 
 termined to and who did leave Dane, and that he had 
 only acquiesced in what she herself had proposed. 
 Still, Dane had not objected, but had, in his dazed 
 state, confessed to himself that he and Eugenie must 
 separate; and he had not regretted the step for one 
 momertt since. He had answered Eugenie's generous 
 letter, after its effects had partially left him, and had 
 countermanded her order on her bank, telling her that 
 she must keep the money until she had fully and 
 finally determined whether or not to remain immured, 
 and then to use it as she chose. She had not answered 
 that letter. The past was past; there was no possi- 
 bility of its resurrection. 
 
 Since that parting at the London station, his whole 
 regret had been for his own past misdeeds, his sole 
 grief was for the suffering he had caused his lost wife 
 
 It was pitiful, the way he loved her now. His love 
 was an agony, because it was hopeless. Yet, withal, 
 he feared his wife, believing that she deliberately 
 (such was his queer expression) haunted him from be- 
 yond the grave. 
 
 The second, and the last, day in Naples, was de- 
 voted to climbing Vesuvius, and as there was then no 
 railroad by which to reach the summit, the task was 
 quite enough of itself for one day. The four advent- 
 urers returned to their hotel delighted with their 
 somewhat perilous excursion, but overwhelmed with 
 fatigue. Agnes felt secretly elated over Mr. Walra-
 
 268 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 ven's appearance; the color in his cheeks, though 
 faint, was certainly indicative of a change ior the 
 better in his condition, and she was secretly proud of 
 it. 
 
 "I'll bring him around yet," she told herself con- 
 fidently, "and my eyes, won't he sleep to-night 
 though! All the gray ghosts from kingdom come 
 won't wake him, after that mountain. I do think I 
 must have dropped my reticule behind me a dozen 
 times yes, a baker's dozen for him to scramble down 
 after and bring up to me. Oh, if I had him out on 
 the sage plains, with two or three bronchos to break 
 in m-m-m!" and the young lady laughed merrily at 
 the picture her fancy drew of the elegant and dignified 
 Dane Walraven mounted on a wild-eyed, shaggy, kick- 
 ing, ducking, rearing broncho pony, on a California 
 ranche! 
 
 But, up to that moment, she had seen only the velvet 
 side of Dane Walraven's nature. There was another 
 side, the heroic, which she had not seen.
 
 CHAPTER XLV 
 
 ON THE GRAND CANAL AT VENICE 
 
 " He had lain dormant long, yet still he wrought, 
 Like the fang'd python, venom-fraught, 
 Waiting to strike." The Conspirators. 
 
 "Dolly," said his fair mentor, as the two sat together 
 on the deck of the "Verona," with its red and yellow- 
 striped sails flapping above them, "we are soon to be 
 within the shadow of St. Peter. Do you think you 
 will come out of it. with any genuine sanctity about 
 you?" 
 
 "The solemnity of the place will undoubtedly impress 
 me, Aggie. When I am sitting alone in one of those 
 vast sanctuaries, I feel exceedingly humble. I know, 
 then, my littleness, my helplessness. With Job, I 
 exclaim: 
 
 "'Hast Thou not poured me out as milk, and curdled 
 me like cheese?' 
 
 "Yes, you are a cheese-head, El>. But don't rattle. 
 I want to lecture you a few." 
 
 Mr. Doolittle looked concerned. He always felt ap- 
 prehensive of these threatened lectures, they were so 
 poignant. He raised his fat hand in expostulation: 
 
 "'Are not my days few?'" he repeated from the same 
 chronic complainer, "'cease, then, and let me alone 
 that I may take comfort a little.' 
 
 269
 
 270 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 "Not until I put a chin-curb on you, Dolly. Now, 
 pay attention to me: first, you were a moralist and an 
 evangelist, and I found you egging on the winners in 
 a free fight, and I dragged you out of it before you 
 were scalped; then, you were a moralist, pure and sim- 
 ple, and I caught you ogling the pretty mosaic-ped- 
 dlers in Florence, and the black eyed flower- girls in 
 Naples; now, you are neither evangelist nor moralist, 
 but a believer in magic and spooks and witchcraft." 
 
 "There are many things that are past finding out," 
 gurgled he, with a look of mystery on his round face. 
 
 "Oh, you have become infected by Mr. Dane Wai- 
 raven's vagaries." 
 
 "Poor fellow, " reflected the victim, shaking his bald 
 head solemnly, "if they are delusions, they are very 
 palpable in shape, Aggie." 
 
 "H-rnph; how do you know?" 
 
 Mr. Doolittle leaned forward, placed his fat hands on 
 his fat knees, and bulged his pale blue eyes in a re- 
 markable manner. 
 
 "You, Dolly!" cried Agnes, stamping her foot, 
 "what's the matter with you?' ; 
 
 '"Nothing," returned he, meekly, receding at once. 
 
 "Then, why do you look at me in that tone of voice, 
 and act as if you had swallowed a grape vine?" 
 
 "Aggie," said the reverend gentleman, heavily sigh- 
 ing, "shall I impart a secret to you?" 
 
 "A dozen, if you like, but no more of those antics, 
 or I'll have you served up as a lobster." 
 
 "Aggie," he resumed, abstractedly, "1 saw the gray 
 phantom myself!"
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 271 
 
 "You saw it?" 
 
 "Verily, yes, or the truth is not in me." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "In the Boboli Gardens," gasped Mr. Doolittle, for- 
 getting, in the intensity of his emotions, that he was 
 talking to an uncompromising skeptic in such mat- 
 ters. 
 
 "When?" demanded she, with ominous quietness, 
 
 "A minute after I heard Mr. Walraven's cry," an- 
 swered he, emboldened by her show of interest. 
 
 "Dolly, you're a fool," declared she, with very start- 
 ling-emphasis. "You will have to be um suppressed." 
 
 "Let me explain, Aggie," pleaded he, hoping to vin- 
 dicate himself. 
 
 "Very well, I will hear your explanation; and then 
 I want you to come to your senses again. You are 
 decidedly 'off,' of late." 
 
 But when Mr. Ebenezer Doolittle had a conviction, 
 it was not easily shaken. He had one now, and a well- 
 founded one. In a graphic and earnest way, he told 
 Agnes of the cowled gray figure of a woman flitting 
 across the dark avenue in front of the marble base, 
 whereon sat he waiting for Dane; and he concluded 
 by asserting that the face, only partly revealed to him, 
 was too ghastly to have been human; it was like that 
 of the dead. 
 
 Agnes listened to him with a peculiar interest, her 
 mind busy with speculations quite as peculiar. 
 
 'Just as I said before," she remarked, "there is 
 something behind it all, a mystery, and we must find 
 the bottom of it."
 
 272 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 The conversation ended here, for the boat was now 
 entering the Tiber, and every one was drawn to the 
 railings. As the historic shores closed in on either 
 side, the mighty past rose again in fancy, invoking 
 silence and inspiring reverence. 
 
 A week was spent in Rome, city of interminable 
 wonders ; and when at length the travelers turned 
 their faces toward the Adriatic, on their way to Ven- 
 ice, they sighed a farewell to the Eternal City, glorious 
 even in its ruins. 
 
 On their arrival at Venice, which they reached from 
 Rome, overland to Ancona, and thence by sail on the 
 Adriatic, our party went directly to a hotel, where 
 they arranged for a stay of one week. 
 
 One week was once sufficient in duration for the 
 creation of a world, according to the best authority; 
 and, in the case of our four travelers, one week was 
 twice as long as the Fates found necessary to weave 
 another strand in the invisible thread which was lead- 
 ing them on to their various destinies. 
 
 Early on the morning of the third day, they engaged 
 a gondola for the passage of the Grand Canal, a min- 
 iature voyage between two continuous and ever-vary- 
 ing lines of marble walls which rise on its liquid sides 
 in stately and beautiful architecture, as far as the 
 dazzled vision reaches. 
 
 Side by side, in the black dolphin, sat Dane and 
 Agnes, the one gazing out at the magnificent passing 
 panorama with subdued enjoyment, the other rippling 
 with mirth, bubbling over with gayety, and constantly, 
 to Dane's amusement, sounding "Dolly," who sat a
 
 DANE WALKAVEN 
 
 273 
 
 few feet away, as to the extent of his capacity to ap- 
 preciate what he saw. 
 
 "You know, Eb, " she asserted, "that you are aw- 
 fully obtuse; but I hope you will at least carry back 
 to America with you a few grains of information to 
 convince your future flock that you are not really a 
 donkey. There there, look quick, Dolly," suddenly 
 pointing her taper finger at a terraced flig'ht of marble 
 steps that dipped their bases in the water, "there is 
 where one of the Doges conspired against the State. 
 Do you know who the Doges were, gumpy?" 
 
 "I know what they were, Aggie," returned he, with 
 severe dignity, "they were magistrates who were con- 
 stantly engaged in putting down the intrigues headed 
 by women. " 
 
 "Bravo!" shouted the little tyrant, clapping her hands 
 with excessive appreciation, "you'll do to send to mar- 
 ket yet. But hello, what's this?" 
 
 She stooped to pick up from the bottom of the boat 
 a roll of paper, which at that moment had been thrown 
 at her feet by the occupant of a gondola which glided 
 past theirs, going in an opposite direction with sur- 
 prising velocity. 
 
 "Why, it's addressed to /Dane Walraven!"' exclaimed 
 she, holding it toward the latter, "who can the man 
 be? Do you know him?" 
 
 Dane glanced quickly, with a flashing presentiment, 
 at the figure in the flying boat, and uttered a cry of 
 astonishment and anger. 
 
 "Silas Thorp!" he shouted.
 
 CHAPTER XLVI 
 
 THE HISS OF A SERPENT 
 
 'God! 
 
 Where shall I lay Thy tardy rod 
 On this coiled reptile? " 
 
 The Conspirators. 
 
 The receding boatman had turned his face toward 
 Walraven at the sound of his name, and as he did so 
 he uttered a mocking laugh. It rose on the water and 
 came to Dane's ears like the laugh of a demon, which 
 in truth it was. 
 
 For an instant Dane sat as if petrified; then he sud- 
 denly sprang into the water. 
 
 "Good heaven, what are you about!" screamed 
 Agnes, reaching over the side of the careening boat, 
 and grasping him by the collar of his coat before he had 
 gone beyond reach. 
 
 "Steady!" warned the colonel, sliding hastily to the 
 opposite side to preserve the equilibrium of the slen- 
 der craft, "what's up?" 
 
 The colonel had been meditating; he had not been 
 following the recent course of events very closely. 
 
 "Here, Dolly, help pull him in," cried Agnes, tug- 
 ging bravely at the struggling form. 
 
 Dane had evidently jumped overboard with the in- 
 tention of swimming after the other boat, but it was 
 now far distant, and it would have been impossible tg 
 
 274
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 275 
 
 overtake it. He therefore allowed himself to be hauled 
 back into his own, very pale, and in a most excited 
 state, while the water poured in a stream from his gar- 
 ments. 
 
 "What on earth possessed you?" demanded Agnes, 
 savagely. 
 
 "It is he!" gasped the half-drowned man, leaning 
 against the seat, and straining his eyes toward the 
 vanishing gondola. 
 
 "He, he, he, who is 'he'?" 
 
 Agnes had no idea of the identity of Silas Thorp; 
 she had not even distinctly heard it, although Dane 
 had but just screamed it into her ears when he plunged 
 overboard. 
 
 Dane raised himself, at the question, and with a 
 terrible flame lighting his eyes, said in a steady voice: 
 
 "That man murdered my wife's father. He is also 
 the son of a man who, with the assistance of another, 
 murdered my mother and father. 
 
 "In the selfishness of my grief and remorse, I had 
 forgotten for a time the duty I owe to the innocent 
 dead; but the sight of that wretch has recalled me to 
 a full sense of it. From this hour I shall devote my- 
 self to the pursuit of the fiends who have destroyed 
 my kindred. This one has come to me; God grant 
 that he may not now escape me.." 
 
 Not a word had been spoken while Walraven made 
 this explanation; but those who listened to it were 
 none the less painfully impressed. The colonel's in- 
 terest was almost as manifest as his daughter's, whose 
 eyes were flashing with indignation, horror, and ex-
 
 276 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 citement. "Can there be such monsters among white 
 men?" exclaimed she; red men, in her experience of 
 the western fronties, being capable of anything mon- 
 strous. 
 
 The colonel held out his muscular hand to Dane. 
 
 "Mr. Walraven," said he, warmly, "you shall not go 
 alone. I will help you in the hunt. When shall we 
 move?" 
 
 "Let us get ashore as soon as possible, my friend," 
 responded Dane, gratefully pressing the extended hand, 
 and trying hard to subdue his excitement; "the mur- 
 derer, you see, is in Venice. We will at once seek the 
 authorities, and if possible obtain their aid in unearth- 
 ing him." 
 
 The colonel shook his head. 
 
 "I doubt very much if we get much help from them," 
 said he, "all those crimes were committed in America 
 and England, and it isn't likely there will be a great 
 deal of interest felt here." 
 
 "Then we shall use gold," returned Walraven.' 
 
 Suddenly, Agnes thought of the little roll of paper. 
 It lay at the bottom of the boat, where it had fallen 
 from her hand. She gave it to Dane, and with nervous 
 ringers he opened it, and read: 
 
 "It was I who contrived to throw my cousin in your 
 path, knowing your amiable weakness and her power. 
 She met you, and you fell. That was what I desired. 
 'I might have been satisfied with your downfall and 
 *he death of your wife, perhaps, had you not wrecked 
 Eugenie's life; and while I remember that, you have 
 consoled yourself with another victim.
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 "I shall not lose sight of you. And there is another 
 who follows you, witness of everything you do, who 
 will be near when you breathe your last to curse you. 
 
 "I am going to Paris. I shall remain there Long 
 enough to transact some business for Eugenie, who has 
 taken up her abode on a summit of the Jura Mount- 
 ains at the foot of which runs the road to Geneva, 
 coming from Dijon. Perhaps you would like to see 
 her again; you will find her in the little convent, over- 
 looking the French village which lies at the base of 
 the spur. The villagers will direct you to the place; 
 they call her a saint. 
 
 "When you come there you will find me. And you 
 will also find that other, who waits to curse you! 
 
 "In the meantime, do not forget that it was Silas 
 Thorp who killed your guardian, the father of your 
 wife. Do riot forget that Joel Thorp is my father. You 
 are not a coward and you will follow on, tracking me 
 to the end, as I shall track you. We shall meet once 
 more; then, the last act your death or mine!" 
 
 "So be it! " were the three stern words that fell from 
 Dane's lips as he read the last words, and re-folded the 
 paper. He sat for some moments absorbed in thought, 
 then said, as the gondola grated against the marble 
 steps of a landing: 
 
 "We will leave Venice to-morrow, if you will." 
 
 "For what place?" asked Colonel Blount. 
 
 "For Paris unless we come upon the man sooner 
 and nearer," replied Dane, stepping ashore. 
 
 He turned to" assist Agnes out of the boat, and she, 
 looking into his eyes, said unconsciously: 
 
 "He has a terrible mission!"
 
 CHAPTER XLVII 
 
 AGAIN THE SHROUD OF GRAY! 
 
 Silas Thorp was not again seen in Venice. Search 
 was made for him, even after the departure of the Wai- 
 raven party, and every effort made to unearth him, 
 without avail. 
 
 . Meantime, our travelers had started on their way, 
 going by voiture, a sort of diligence, to Bologna and 
 Leghorn. At the latter city they were to take boat for 
 Marseilles, and thence proceed north by diligence or 
 chaise. 
 
 The journey to Marseilles was made without inci- 
 dent or delay, and on arriving there they were fortu- 
 nate to find at the post-house a six-horse English chaise 
 which had come down the day before from Orleans, 
 and which they engaged for a round consideration, to 
 take them as far as that city, where they would have 
 no difficulty in procuring any kind of conveyance they 
 might desire for the remainder of their journey. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon when they left Mar- 
 seilles, and it was decided that a stop over night should 
 be made at Nismes, whose remarkable ruins Agnes 
 and her father were curious to examine. 
 
 Night had already closed in when the postilion 
 sprang down from his box in front of the "Horn" inn, 
 but the four passengers had enjoyed the ride with zest, 
 
 278
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 279 
 
 and were in excellent spirits and condition. A smok- 
 ing supper was served them, after which they fell to 
 discussing their route among the ruins. The moon- 
 light would enable them to see distinctly, and Agnes 
 declared it should not be lost to them. 
 
 "What will you do with it, Agnes?" asked her 
 father, deferring as usual to her disposition of his 
 time. 
 
 "We will go and see the Roman nymphseum, and 
 the amphitheater, and the temple, and the rest; they 
 will look actually weird in this white light. And per- 
 haps some of the ancient inhabitants will be abroad, 
 to tell us who the bathers were in the pool presided 
 over by Diana. I wouldn't miss a conversation with 
 one of 'em for a dozen nights' sleep, would you, 
 Dolly?" 
 
 But Dolly glanced at Dane and said nothing. Agnes 
 turned her eyes in the same direction, and saw a startled 
 look in his face, then a sober shadow settling over it, 
 while he sat vacantly staring out into the night. In- 
 stantly she turned the conversation; but Dane himself 
 renewed the subject of the proposed night-excursion. 
 
 "I think your suggestion is a delightful one, Miss 
 Agnes," he said, gravely, "and the scene will certainly 
 be much more picturesque by moonlight; besides, we 
 can start on our journey so much earlier than if we 
 make the visit in the morning." 
 
 He spoke like an automaton; and as he concluded, 
 he rose and left the room, saying: 
 
 "I will get my walking stick, and join you all in 
 the yard, in a few minutes."
 
 280 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 Mr. Doolittle's eyes followed him curiously. 
 
 "What are you thinking of, Dolly?" demanded Ag- 
 nes, sharply. 
 
 Dolly shook his head and said, sepulchrally: 
 
 "Didn't you notice his look? He's got a warning 
 of something." 
 
 "Fiddlesticks; what do you mean?" cried she, im- 
 patiently. 
 
 "He expects something to come of it, " explained the 
 preacher, vaguely. 
 
 Agnes laughed satirically. 
 
 "Apparitions of Caesar's road-builders, eh?" 
 
 "No," returned Mr. Doolittle,with another lugubrious 
 wabble of his head, "something much more modern, 
 more familiar. I know him; and I tell you what, 
 Aggie, his presentiments are not to be laughed at; 
 they mean something." 
 
 But Miss Blount scouted the notion of anything su- 
 pernatural being possible. 
 
 "He's morbid and nervous," she declared, decisively, 
 "and we should not humor his strange fancies. Pretty 
 soon he will be afraid to sleep in the dark, and will 
 have to take a nurse. Don't mope there, Dolly, get 
 up, you and pop, and be ready; I'll have my wraps on 
 in a minute," and Agnes tripped out of the room, leav- 
 ing Mr. Doolittle still shaking his head, and playing 
 idly with the fringe on his chair. 
 
 The marble and brick walls constructed by the Ro- 
 mans in the form of baths and temples, centuries be- 
 fore the occupation of Nismes by the Franks, were of 
 so durable a character as to outlive their history, and
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 28 1 
 
 to withstand the inroads of time, the attacks of bar- 
 barian soldiery, the attempts of spoliators through 
 scores of generations, to the extent, at least, of leaving 
 fragmentary evidences of their ancient beauty and ele- 
 gance. The remains, at the date of this visit, were 
 still of sufficient importance to render them interesting 
 to the archaeologist and tourist. The amphitheater 
 was situated in a lonely and deserted portion of the 
 environs, almost concealed 'by tangled undergrowth 
 and groups of forest trees, requiring considerable pa- 
 tience and more or less stooping to get within its cir- 
 cuit. 
 
 These difficulties, however, were but trifles to Ag- 
 nes, who darted into the cavern-like recesses with the 
 fearlessness of an Indian, paying very little attention 
 to the fact that the others were being left behind. In 
 fact, they were contending very deliberately with the in- 
 tricate lace-work of branches and vines which disputed 
 their passage, the preacher in particular finding the 
 obstructions in his path worse than nettles and tares. 
 Suddenly the moon, which had been until now with- 
 out a cloud, became obscure, a thick haze settled over 
 its face, and objects could be seen only at a short dis- 
 tance. In the glade-like covert into which Agnes had 
 so boldly plunged, only outlines were now visible. 
 For several minutes nothing had been heard from the 
 adventurous girl, and her father was about to call her 
 name, when out of the gloom in which she had been 
 lost there came the sound of a voice. It was a strange, 
 tense sound, as of one speaking, from some far-off 
 height, words of reproach and sorrow.
 
 282 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 For the space of a second, the thiee men stood en- 
 tranced, listening without moving a limb; and while 
 the)' listened they heard these words, uttered by the 
 same strange voice, as if directed toward them: 
 
 "Go tell him I am his wife, on earth, and beyond 
 the earth!" 
 
 Then there came an awful cry from Dane Walraven. 
 Into the air his white hands were flung, and with his 
 head thrown back -until to those in front of him it 
 seemed to have left his body he gasped, as he fell: 
 
 "Lost! Lost and damned! " 
 
 With his face to the earth, he lay motionless in the 
 same condition in which the preacher had found him 
 in the Boboli Gardens. 
 
 At that instant, Agnes' pale face gleamed out through 
 the drooping foliage; it parted before her, and she 
 stood before the little group, panting, wild-eyed, and 
 dumb.
 
 CHAPTER XLVIII 
 
 THE BOX IN NUMBER 26 RUE DU MAIL 
 
 The distance from Nismes to Paris is about one 
 hundred and fifty French leagues. You start north- 
 wardly out of the ancient town with vine and olive- 
 clad hills on the one side, and on the other fertile 
 fields of grain, leaving behind you the ruins of the 
 Maison Quarree, now almost obliterated in part, the 
 Roman amphitheater, the exquisite nymphaeum, lost 
 among a cluster of little houses. Involuntarily, at the 
 last turn of the road, when you are about to lose sight 
 of the town finally, you gaze back once more with the 
 recollection that you are looking back at a city six 
 hundred years older than Rome, and which was once 
 one of the largest in Europe. 
 
 The Walraven part} 7 had hurried away from Nismes 
 on the morning following the scene in the ruined am- 
 phitheater, Dane persisting in going on immediately. 
 
 Agnes had explained this much of the singular inci 
 dent. 
 
 While she was making her way into the midst of 
 the debris a woman in gray, with a gray hood over her 
 head and partly concealing her face, had emerged with- 
 out noise from the shrubbery behind, suddenly con- 
 fronting her with a face like that of a corpse, but with 
 eyes like those of an insane person excited to fury. 
 
 283
 
 284 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 "I was on the point of speaking to her, when she 
 lifted her finger, and pointing it at me, said: 
 
 "Go where you will, I will follow you you and him. 
 Neither shall escape; I will haunt you both, forever 
 and ever!" 
 
 "I tell you, pop, I was startled. I felt about the 
 same way when we all woke up that night in Muder's 
 dug-out, and saw those five redskins stealing in. But 
 I rallied in a second, and asked her: 
 
 "'Where do you come from?' 
 
 "Her answer chilled me: 'I come from the embers 
 of my grave. I was dead, but I have risen.' 
 
 "Then, with the movement of a snake, she darted 
 away, calling back to me the message you heard, and 
 which floored Mr. Walraven. 
 
 "But I am convinced that we shall meet her again," 
 Agnes concluded, "and when we do, I mean to solve 
 the whole mystery right there on the spot." 
 
 Dane, after being dragged to the "Horn," had re- 
 gained consciousness, and had staggered to bed, only 
 to mutter again and again in the ears of the preacher, 
 who sat all night watching at his bedside: 
 
 "Lost, lost, lost!" 
 
 He was out of his chamber very early in the morn- 
 ing, wandering restlessly about the stable-yard, pale 
 and dejected, peering strangely at every passing stran- 
 ger, as if he expected each moment to meet the one 
 he feared the most on earth or beyond it his wife. 
 
 When the heavy chaise rumbled out of the inn-yard, 
 it bore four sober- faced passengers, not one of whom 
 could have foretold the events that were now near at 
 hand.
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 285 
 
 Nothing transpired to startle them, during the re- 
 mainder of their journey; on the contrary, the ride was 
 both fatiguing and monotonous, and every one felt 
 relieved when the barriers were passed, and the coach 
 entered the St. Michel. 
 
 But .here they met with a mishap, which singularly 
 led to the very trail they were in seach of. A butcher's 
 cart collided with the chaise, tearing off one of the 
 front wheels and bringing the entire party to the ground, , 
 but without injury. 
 
 As they stood surveying the wreck, a dapper little 
 commissionaire came running up, and assisted, without 
 being asked, in unloading the luggage, and several 
 parcels belonging to Agnes, who had made some sort 
 of purchase in every town where they had stopped to 
 change horses. 
 
 The little fellow was extremely voluble. 
 
 "We will take these things to the parcel office," 
 said he, "it is not far; the Rue du Mail, it is there 
 that such things are left to be sent wherever the owners 
 desire, do you see?" 
 
 "And a hotel? Can you direct us to one?" inquired 
 the colonel, as soon as he could head off the stream of 
 the Frenchman's chatter. 
 
 "Oui, oui, messieurs," quickly responded he; "but 
 let us first go to the Hotel des Chiens, and leave these 
 things.; then when I have shown messieurs the best 
 hotels in Paris, I will return for them, you will see." 
 
 Without waiting for an answer, he seized two of the 
 pieces and started off, the rest meekly following with 
 as much as they could carry. On the way to the parcel 
 office, the little fellow rattled off a list of names.
 
 286 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 "There is the Hotel de Saxe, Rue de Columbier; the 
 Hotel d*York, Rue Jacob; the Hotel d'Etrangers, Rue 
 de Tournon; all in the Faubourg St. Germain. Oh, you 
 will see! There is M. Roche's, Rue Montorgueil, 
 where a dinner costs a louis. Yes, and Monsieur Le 
 Pretre's, Rue St. Honore, where the waiters are all 
 Spanish; and Monsieur Foco's, Pare Royal, he who 
 was a colonel before he opened a traiteur; and there is 
 another in the Rue de Tournon, near the Luxembourg, 
 where Englishmen go for those great thick mutton 
 chops " 
 
 "Stop monkey!" cried Agnes, exasperated by his 
 astounding flow of information, "we shall believe di- 
 rectly, that one-half of Paris is composed of soup- 
 houses, and one-half its population cooks!" 
 
 "Oui, oui, mademoiselle, " responded the irrepress- 
 ible, "and here we are." 
 
 As they entered the office Agnes glanced with some 
 curiosity at the innumerable packages, boxes, bags, 
 and miscellaneous articles which almost choked the 
 entrance. Suddenly she stopped, and stooped over a 
 leathern bag, on the side of which was painted a 
 name. 
 
 "Pop, come here!" cried she, excitedly; and as the 
 colonel turned toward her, she read in a very loud 
 voice: 
 
 "Silas Thorp, London!" 
 
 "Ah!" exclaimed Dane, with a rush at the bag, which 
 he fairly stumbled over, in his eagerness to satisfy 
 himself that she had read the name aright. 
 
 But the hated name was there, and of course its
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 287 
 
 owner was in Paris. A hurried inquiry elicited the 
 information that the bag had been left there early in 
 the morning, and that it was to be forwarded to a 
 number in an obscure street, which the obliging clerk, 
 with an eye upon Agnes, glibly disclosed to Walraven, 
 who could hardly contain his impatience. 
 
 As they left the office they did not observe a man's 
 figure gliding past them with a malignant scowl on his 
 face. But he hastily entered the office, took up the 
 bag, and said to the clerk: 
 
 "Get me a fiacre, quick. I will take this with me. 
 I am in a great hurry." 
 
 The clerk darted out of the door, hailed a passing 
 "whip," and as the man, who was none other than 
 Silas himself, sprang into the fiacre, he beckoned the 
 driver to him. 
 
 "Do you see those four persons walking away?" 
 
 "Yes, monsieur," replied the driver, glancing after 
 them. 
 
 "Very good. Well, you will drive slowly behind 
 them, until they enter a hotel; then you will stop. 
 Do not lose sight of them for an instant, if you 
 would earn a double fare. ' 
 
 When the fiacre started, Silas leaned back in his 
 seat, drew his hat over his eyes, and mu-ttered: 
 
 "It is not in Paris that we shall meet again; but I 
 mean to lure him to a very different place, and then 
 the end!"
 
 CHAPTER. XLIX 
 
 A LETTER OF REVELATION FOR DANE 
 
 "The end draws near; but ere the closing scene 
 Rounds this brief drama, I'll prepare a feast 
 At whose full board Vengeance shall sup." 
 
 7^i? Conspirators. 
 
 Walraven and his friends had taken apartments in 
 the Hotel de Tours, Rue du Paon, then much fre- 
 quented by English gentlemen; and here, after a brief 
 rest and a comfortable meal, they gathered. in the par- 
 lor for a quiet council. 
 
 Silas Thorp was now the sole subject of their 
 thoughts and conversation. 
 
 "The box said Hotel de Picardie," observed Agnes, 
 "and we ought to send there, or go, one of us." 
 
 "One of us, and we are how many?" chirped Mr. 
 Doolittle, amused at her expression. 
 
 "Take care, Polly," retorted she, "you are trying to 
 crack a joke, and it may fracture your skull." 
 
 "But you know, Aggie, that ladies do not go out 
 alone in Paris," ventured Dolly. 
 
 "Oh. Don't they? Well, that explains the conduct 
 of those two tender-foot Johnnies who followed us all 
 the way to the hotel. It was because I walked alone. 
 One of them was a character. I declare, it gave me 
 the colic whenever I looked at his blue gills. And 
 that chummy of his! Queer varmint, wasn't. he? He 
 
 288
 
 DANE WALKAVEN 289 
 
 had the cinch on the dude, though. I do believe he 
 puts a drop of brandy on Dudy's tongue every morn- 
 ing to keep him from having conniptions. I suppose 
 he's the guardian of the other monkey. Well, I wouldn't 
 mind using a riding whip on a few of the class. But 
 who will go to the Picardie?" 
 
 "I shall go, as soon as it is quite dark," replied 
 Walraven, looking out through the stained window at 
 the deepening twilight. 
 
 "And suppose he is there, what will you do? " asked 
 Colonel Blount. 
 
 "I shall not alarm him, but will hasten to the pre- 
 fect," responded he, quietly. 
 
 At dusk he went to the address, but was told that 
 no such person had stopped there. Disappointed, he 
 returned to his friends. 
 
 "What shall we do now?" inquired Mr. Doolittle, 
 sorrowfully watching the gloomy face of Walraven. 
 
 "We must search further; he is in Paris," returned 
 he, with a compression of the lips. 
 
 But a messenger was at that moment approaching 
 the parlor with the very information he was seeking. 
 
 "Please, messieurs," said the servant who entered 
 the room with a letter in his hand, "here is a billet for 
 Monsieur Walraven."" 
 
 Dane took the letter, uttered an exclamation, and 
 tore open its covering. 
 
 "It is from Silas Thorp himself!" cried he, in an 
 agitated voice, and, as he rapidly scanned it "He 
 has stated all that we wish to know, and more ' 
 
 His words were cut short by a cry, and he fell to 
 the floor, holding the letter tightly in his hand.
 
 2QO DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 "He is getting to be as squeamish as a woman," 
 grumbled the colonel, as he bent over the prostrate 
 man, whose lips were frothing. 
 
 "You can't blame him this time," exclaimed Agnes, 
 who had taken the letter from Dane's grasp, and had 
 hurriedly read it. "Listen to this: 
 
 "'This is the last time I shall ever write your hated 
 name. You have been following me that you might 
 hand me over to the hounds of the law. Well, I have 
 not gone in another direction, as you know, but have 
 kept you in sight, because I had a purpose in running 
 you down. I start to-morrcw for Geneva; and I shall 
 stop at the miserable habitation on the mountain, be- 
 fore leaving France. If you would meet me, come 
 to that place. We will then settle all scores between 
 us. 
 
 "You will also meet two women there; one is Eu- 
 genie, who has sought in those wild solitudes a place 
 for her intolerable sorrows to spend themselves. The 
 other woman is your wife. 
 
 "'Yes, your wife! 
 
 "'The time has come when you may know the truth. 
 She did not die, although she was put in the tomb 
 to which your treachery and guilt consigned her. The 
 earthquake shocked her into life; she escaped from 
 the burning ruins of the vault, fled to Southampton, 
 with partially shattered reason, and took passage on a 
 vessel upon which my father and Jem Crouch had 
 shipped as sailors. They took- good care to tell her 
 of your liaisons. They told her you were traveling 
 with Eugenie; then, that you had fitted up a dove's
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 2QI 
 
 nest for her in London; later, that you had thrown 
 Eugenie off, and were traveling with another American 
 girl, Agnes Blount. It was I who offered to prove to 
 her the truth. I led her after you from place to place, 
 until she became convinced of your heartless deprav- 
 ity; then I persuaded her to go to Eugenie. She has 
 given up hope, once more, and she loathes you. But 
 you will see her, you will hear her curse you; and then 
 you shall die! I have sworn it. Meet me, if you 
 dare to, at the convent.'" 
 
 When Dane recovered from his swoon, he was clam- 
 orous for an immediate departure; but that was im- 
 possible; they must wait until the morrow. 
 
 "A barge leaves the quay at seven in the morning," 
 said the colonel, "we can take that to Auxerre " 
 
 "A barge? By no means," objected Dane; "we must 
 have horses, and good ones." 
 
 The colonel did not argue the matter then, but later, 
 he persuaded Dane of the advisability of beginning 
 with horses at Auxerre. 
 
 "If we ride," observed he, glancing at the preacher, 
 "we shall be obliged to leave Mr. Doolittle behind." 
 
 "That will make no difference," promptly remarked 
 the latter, "I can follow on; I would be a burden to 
 you, even if I could ride a horse." 
 
 "Or an ass, like Baalam," suggested Agnes, saucily. 
 
 "Verily, yes," confessed he, meekly. "But then, I 
 shall have you to take care of, and we can journey 
 quite comfortably together." 
 
 "Have me to take care of! Oh, you comical!" 
 screamed Agnes, with a startling explosion of mirth.
 
 2Q2 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 "Well, Eb, I shall leave you to bring up the rear of 
 the procession with the small pieces of baggage, while 
 I go to take care of pop and Mr. Walraven. " 
 
 Mr. Doolittle's eyes opened wide with amazement. 
 
 "What!" exclaimed he, "you surely do not intend to 
 ride a beast from Paris to the Swiss frontier, and 
 climb those fearful mountains besides?" 
 
 "Just so, Ebby. And when I arrive at Geneva I 
 shall have an enormous appetite, and I want you to 
 have rooms ready for us at the best inn, and a square 
 meal for four. And you are to be on the lookout for 
 my mule and me, so you had better start by post as 
 soon as we leave in the morning." 
 
 Mr. Doolittle sank back in his chair, a prey to his 
 own peculiar emotions, and said nothing more during 
 the evening. 
 
 At the Quai d'Orsay, next morning, Agnes turned to 
 him with an air of protection, and said: 
 
 "Now, Dolly, I shall expect you to turn up .all right 
 in Geneva. I shall also require you to account for 
 every hour of the time between now and then. Keep 
 your eyes off the grisettes; they are too cute for you. 
 If you should make an evening of it with one of them, 
 you would be lost, as sure as you are a lamb! Even 
 I could not find you again. Now, good-bye, old boy; 
 go to roost early and say your prayers regularly." 
 
 The amiable evangelist looked sorrowfully after the 
 receding boat as it labored out of the slip, and mur- 
 mured reflectively: 
 
 "Ah, this western energy! "
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 THE "THREE CANDLESTICKS" AT AUXERRE 
 
 Auxerre, a dirty town thirty-three leagues from 
 Paris, abounding in churches, and conspicuous one 
 hundred years ago as containing the finest ecclesiastic 
 palace in France, lies on the side of a hill, and was 
 formerly reached, except in cases where great dis- 
 patch was urgent, by barges (from Paris) drawn by 
 ten horses. It was therefore a very sleepy town, and 
 its citizens, forty years ago, were generally locked in- 
 side their shuttered houses when the bishop's bell 
 sounded ten strokes. 
 
 It was shortly after this hour, on a November night, 
 that three men came up from the banks of the Yonne, 
 and entered, without being observed, the ancient inn 
 of the Three Candlesticks. 
 
 The landlord was at once requested to show them to 
 a large room, where they could have perfect privacy, 
 and was instructed to have them called at exactly five 
 in the morning. 
 
 Left to themselves, with several candles illumining 
 the mildewed walls, the well-worn furniture, and the 
 dark faces of the trio, they drew their chairs together, 
 and were soon engaged in a conversation so absorb- 
 ing as to render them totally oblivious of their sur- 
 roundings. 
 
 293
 
 294 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 The house was very still and very dark when these 
 men arrived, but there was one very wide-awake indi- 
 vidual, beside themselves, in their near vicinity when 
 they asked for a room. 
 
 This person was a traveler also, and had taken a 
 sleeping apartment an hour before, giving no name, 
 and leaving no instructions with the landlord to be 
 roused in the morning. First going to his room, he 
 had sat by the window, looking steadily toward the 
 river; and when the three strangers appeared in the 
 street below, he had put out his light, thrust his feet 
 in a pair of felt shoes, and softly descended the stairs, 
 which were quite dark. In the passage below, there 
 was a small closet opening into it, in the inner wall of 
 which was a diminutive window, intended to receive 
 light from the large room on the other side, and with 
 glazing on the small panes of glass. 
 
 Into this closet the stranger quietly slipped, leav- 
 ing the door slightly ajar, and there remained until 
 the three arrivals were consigned to an apartment. 
 The one given them was the large room just men- 
 tioned; and as soon as they were inside, the stranger 
 emerged from the closet, went to the stable-yard, and 
 in a few minutes returned with a stout young groom. 
 These two now entered the closet, closing the door and 
 bolting it from within. 
 
 The three men in the large room were seated at a 
 table directly under the little closet-window, with 
 their backs to the wall. Had they been facing it, they 
 might have seen two clear spots, of about an inch 
 each, in diameter, gradually appear at the bottom of
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 295 
 
 two of the panes of glass, and then two eyes gluing 
 themselves to the spots and steadily regarding them 
 during the whole of the hour or more in which they 
 sat in council. 
 
 The three men were Joel Thorp, his son Silas, and 
 Jem Crouch; and, with a knowledge of past events, the 
 reader will easily divine what had now brought them 
 together. 
 
 "Let's 'ave some 'alf and 'alf, ef we've got to have 
 such a long confab," suggested Joel, who looked 
 jaded, as if he had traveled fast and far. 
 
 "No," objected his son, frowning, "we don't want 
 any muddled brains here to-night. You can make a 
 night of it after the work is done, if you choose." 
 
 "Wery well, Sile, " sighed the parent, resignedly, 
 "yure the manager. I allus said you had the brains o' 
 the whole fam'ly, not incloodin' yure poor mother, 
 her loss we mourn." 
 
 "And Ann, you forget Ann," sneered Crouch, "she 
 had convictions, if I am not mistaken." 
 
 Joel's one eye was almost extinguished by a scowl. 
 
 "Ann were a traitor," growled he, "an' I do not no 
 longer wabble around no more on her account as I 
 used ter; howsomever, she were a woman of extr'o'nery 
 conwictions, I don't deny it." 
 
 "Never mind that now," interposed Silas, checking 
 his father with a gesture, "we have business on hand." 
 
 "An' wery interestin' business, requirin' wery skillful 
 performers wersed in the art, as King John said w'en 
 he pulled the Jew's teeth at a thousand crowns a 
 tooth. Wot's yure plan, son?"
 
 296 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 Silas leaned over the table, and for several seconds 
 silently scrutinized the two, turning his head slowly 
 from one to the other as he sat between them. At 
 length: 
 
 "When did you leave the old convent?" he asked 
 Crouch. 
 
 "Tuesday morning, ten days ago." 
 
 "And you stopped in the village?" 
 
 "We did, and got horses there. They're in the stable 
 here, snug and fresh. " 
 
 "What, you rode the same horses all the way?" 
 
 Crouch laughed. "Why, they aren't the same color 
 they were when we started," said he, "but we weren't 
 particular about that. Likely they'll again change 
 color going back." 
 
 "About every night, hey, Jem?" chuckled Joel. 
 
 "About. We like variety," answered Crouch, dryly. 
 
 Silas mused a moment. 
 
 "We shall reach the village, then, about one day 
 ahead of Walraven, " observed he. "You are sure he 
 started from Paris by the slow barge?" 
 
 "Yes, I saw him and his partner, Blount, and the 
 girl go aboard, leaving the preacher behind. I heard 
 'em deciding to abandon the notion of horses to this 
 place. They were to get animals here, and will go 
 through Dijon." 
 
 "Very good. We shall be far enough in front. Now 
 let us proceed with the plan. You can imitate Wai- 
 raven's handwriting, Jem?" 
 
 "Perfectly. " 
 
 "Well, you are to write a letter to his wife, sign
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 his name to it, and deliver it to her as soon as we ar- 
 rive near the convent. The letter must inform her 
 that he is coming for her, full of remorse, and that he 
 does not wish to see Eugenie, for reasons she will un- 
 derstand. She must therefore come to the edge of the 
 cliff, stand on the 'black rock,' and watch his approach 
 up the mule path." 
 
 "And then what?" 
 
 "You and father will go up by one way and I by 
 another. I must not be seen, you know. I shall hide 
 in the rock-hollow a hundred feet or so back from the 
 spot where she is to stand. Walraven will come up 
 directly under the 'black rock. ' When he arrives there, 
 you must be concealed behind the ledge, as close to 
 him as possible. At the moment he sees his wife, I 
 will rush toward her and push her over the wall. 
 When she falls, she will be done for; and while he is 
 wailing over her, you will rush in upon him and bind 
 him. I have laid out my plan for disposing of him 
 afterward, but I will not talk of that now." 
 
 "But the other cove?" 
 
 Silas drew from his breast a long-barreled pistol. 
 
 "1 am a good shot," said he, stroking the shining 
 barrel, "and while you are gently ministering to the 
 bereaved husband, I will send the American into eter- 
 nity. Look at this," continued he, now producing a 
 large ball from his waistcoat pocket, "I have scratched 
 two letters on it, D. W. When the body is found, it 
 will bear within the bullet-wound the only proof 
 needed to convict Walraven of murder if he survives 
 me. "
 
 2Q8 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 Joel gazed at his infamous progeny with looks of 
 profound admiration. 
 
 "Sile, " said he, winking his ogreish eye horribly, 
 "yure a gen'us, that's wot you air, an' I'm proud to 
 be yure fayther. " 
 
 Silas made no reply, but motioned his "fayther" to 
 desist. 
 
 "It will be best for us to separate just before we 
 reach the village," said he, "and not enter it together. 
 I will go around it, I think, and take the path leading 
 up to the back of the convent. And now, as every- 
 thing is understood and settled, we had better sleep." 
 
 "Where?" queried Joel, glancing around the bare 
 room. 
 
 "Right here in our chairs; we will not run the risk 
 of oversleeping; " and Silas drew his own away from 
 the table, tilted his back to the wall, and closed his 
 eyes. His companions followed his example, and in 
 a few minutes the three conspirators were giving noisy 
 evidence of their ability to slumber under any circum- 
 stances, even burdened as they were with crime, and 
 on the very eve of perpetrating new ones. 
 
 At this moment, the two eyes vanished from the 
 closet-window.
 
 CHAPTER LI 
 
 WHAT BEFELL SILAS IN THE JURA 
 
 "And now let Justice don her gown, 
 Slow-footed priestess, whose late frown 
 Foredooms the felon; let the laws 
 Arm Retribution in her cause." 
 
 Sage of Mentor. 
 
 Thrae travelers were climbing a rugged path leading 
 to a summit of the Jura Mountains. . 
 
 On every side, tall, gnarled trees, blackened and 
 bent, rose frowningly and groaned as the gusts of wind 
 struck and swayed their twisted arms. 
 
 The gloomy skies overhead seemed never to have 
 felt the warmth of the sun, so dark and full of murk 
 they were. 
 
 The weird face of the mountain imposed silence on 
 the slow toilers, and a half hour had passed without a 
 word having been spoken. But now and again some 
 mighty bird flapped its black wings over them and 
 darted away, screaming defiance to the invaders of 
 their solitude. 
 
 At length the travelers stopped upon a ledge of rock 
 which jutted over a wall almost perpendicular, the 
 base of which was washed by a brawling current of 
 dark water hundreds of feet below. 
 
 Directly over the spot where the three now stood 
 rose a mass of black rock, some forty feet in height, 
 of a peculiar shape, and flat on its top. 
 
 299
 
 300 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 The ledge itself was perhaps eighty feet in breadth, 
 and extended circularly around the loftier cliff, so that 
 its farther extremity could not be seen by the persons 
 who now paused to look into the chasm beneath. 
 
 One of the three was a young woman of lithe and 
 graceful figure; and as she turned to her companions 
 with a countenance animated by the scene and the 
 effort she had put forth to reach it, her clear voice 
 rose and fell with a thousand musical vibrations 
 among the hollows and jutting spurs that encircled 
 her. 
 
 "What a wild scene!" she exclaimed, pointing off 
 to the right at an imposing mass of rocky columns. 
 
 "And a fascinating one, Miss Agnes," observed her 
 companion with the yellow locks. "It seems to me that 
 Peace must have her home up there." 
 
 "Oh, if that is her home, she must be a creature of 
 many habitations, for we have seen in the Rockies and 
 in the Sierras, a dozen scenes as lonely, grand and 
 imposing as that one yonder, haven't we, pop?" 
 
 "I reckon you're right, daughter," responded the 
 latter, looking off at the crags reflectively. 
 
 A moment later his gaze fell upon the path directly 
 beneath him, which wound, with many contortions, 
 upward toward the farther extremity of the ledge, and 
 he gave a start of surprise. 
 
 "What is that object moving up from below?" he 
 asked, abruptly. 
 
 "Look, look, Mr. Walraven!" cried Agnes, whose 
 brilliant eyes were dancing; "it is not moving up at 
 all, it is a man tugging at a long rope. What can he 
 be doing?"
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 3<DI 
 
 "True," said Dane, approaching the edge of the 
 plateau; "and by the expression of his face it must be 
 some deadly work he is at. But merciful heaven, it 
 is Vincent!" 
 
 The man had been gradually creeping backward 
 along the craggy path, and with his head thrown back, 
 was gazing upward toward the end of the rope, which 
 appeared to be at a level with the top of the ledge. 
 In this attitude his face became plainly visible, and 
 Dane had recognized the features of Charlie Vincent, 
 the ward of the city marshal of Boston, now a stal- 
 wart and handsome man, but at this moment with a 
 countenance absolutely fearful in its revengeful and 
 desperate expression. 
 
 What could he be doing? How came he there? 
 were questions that flitted through Dane's mind, as he 
 hurried along the curving ledge, with Agnes and her 
 father close behind him. In a few seconds they had 
 turned the curve, and the spectacle at which they now 
 excitedly gazed was a strange and thrilling one. 
 
 The upper end of the rope was fastened around the 
 body of a man in such a way as to pinion his arms to 
 his sides, rendering him entirely helpless. He indeed 
 appeared to have no life in his body, since there was 
 no show of resistance whatever, as it was slowly 
 dragged forward toward the edge of the cliff by the 
 man below. 
 
 Agnes was the first to espy the fearful object, and 
 she started back with horror. 
 
 "Heavens," cried she, "it is a man!" 
 
 "So it is."
 
 302 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 Colonel Blount's exclamation was peculiar; so was 
 the look in his face. He stood watching the murder- 
 ous spectacle with evident satisfaction, with no ap- 
 parent intention of interfering. 
 
 Dane and Agnes regarded him with amazement. 
 
 "Oh, pop! " cried the latter, her handsome face pal- 
 ing, "why do you act so? Are you going to see the 
 man drawn over the precipice? >; 
 
 "Wait," returned he, glancing at Walraven, who 
 looked on as if petrified. "Now, look closely, and see 
 if he is worth saving." 
 
 "Silas Thorp!" shouted Dane, suddenly bounding 
 to the edge of the cliff and leaning over it at the risk 
 of losing his balance. 
 
 "Yes," returned the colonel, "he is cheating the 
 hangman, but sparing you any further trouble. It will 
 soon be up with him. Ten feet more, and over he'll 
 
 go-" 
 
 "Horrible!" gasped the girl, fascinated by the sight. 
 But she instantly recovered her presence of mind, and 
 with a final entreaty directed to her companions to go 
 to the rescue, she darted along the face of the ledge, 
 veering around the curve close to the overhanging 
 rock, and vanished down a steep path covered with 
 huge bowlders. 
 
 "What in God's name is the girl after now?" ex- 
 claimed her father, with a groan of apprehension for 
 her safety, as he and Dane rushed after her. 
 
 As they turned the curve, the question was answered 
 by what they saw. 
 
 Dashing down the sideling steep with the nimble
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 303 
 
 grace and boldness of the chamois, Agnes was swiftly 
 making her way toward the helpless victim of Vin- 
 cent's unaccountable vengeance, who to all appear- 
 ances was already lifeless. 
 
 Meantime, at the other end of the rope, Vincent 
 was straining with an unhalting step to carry out his 
 fearful purpose, winding the rope about his wrist again 
 and again, as it slipped off with each rebound of the 
 body over the bowlders, his eyes gleaming with mur- 
 derous fury, and bent unwaveringly upon its doomed 
 object. 
 
 Agnes had uttered no cry, .had glided down the side 
 of the cliff as silently as though shod with velvet, and 
 stood now, not twenty feet away from the body, but 
 effectually separated from it by an intervening gulch. 
 Then she raised her voice to a shout: 
 
 "Stop for God's sake, stop! " 
 
 With a quick upward glance, in which there was a 
 momentafry surprise, Vincent slightly relaxed his 
 efforts. 
 
 For one moment only. Then, with a sudden jerk- 
 ing motion, in which he seemed to put forth an energy 
 of strength that was superhuman, he sprang back- 
 ward, and the body of Silas Thorp bounded over the 
 ledge. 
 
 From the very edge of the precipice the two men 
 watched it rebound from rock to rock, until it plunged 
 into the brown waters below, and disappeared forever.
 
 CHAPTER LII 
 
 THE FIGURE ON THE "BLACK ROCK" 
 
 When the last reverberations had died away with 
 the plunging of Silas Thorp's body into the black 
 stream at the bottom of the cliff, the slayer uncovered 
 his head, and wiped from his forehead the perspiration 
 gathered there. Then, replacing his hat, he slowly 
 climbed to the spot where Agnes still stood listening 
 for some further sound from the abyss. His white 
 skin, very unlike that of the weather-stained mount- 
 aineer his dress had suggested, gave Agnes a new sur- 
 prise. As he approached her, she fixed her black eyes 
 upon him, with solemn inquiry, and asked, almost 
 in a whisper: 
 
 "Why did you do it?" 
 
 Vincent regarded her with a look as solemn as her 
 own, and answered: 
 
 "It was an awful thing to do, but it had to be done. 
 Let us go to the convent above, and I will explain it 
 all to your friends and you." 
 
 He offered her his hand, to assist her up the rocky 
 way, but with a repugnant gesture she refused it, and 
 walked at his side in silence. 
 
 At the top of the ledge, they met Colonel Blount 
 and Walraven; and Vincent and the latter immediately 
 greeted each other as old acquaintances. 
 
 304
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 305 
 
 "I knew you were here," remarked Vincent, as they 
 walked forward, "and I expected to find you up yon- 
 der," pointing toward the highest level of the spur. 
 "But since you are all together, I will explain mat- 
 ters before we go up to the others." 
 
 "The others" meant Eugenie and Eleanor, and the 
 words were spoken hesitatingly, and with constraint. 
 
 To Dane it was evident that Vincent knew every- 
 thing of his history and of his movements. 
 
 "Go on, then," said he, in subdued tones, expecting 
 to hear revelations both painful and startling; and he 
 was not disappointed. 
 
 Vincent drew from his pocket a silver repeater, and 
 glancing at the time, observed: 
 
 "It is twelve o'clock. In half an hour there will be 
 two more of your acquaintances in this immediate 
 neighborhood; I have just time enough for my story 
 before they arrive." 
 
 Then, Agnes and her father having come up, he 
 proceeded: 
 
 "You will recollect hearing from Captain Bardell 
 the story of the city marshal's participation in the 
 abduction affair, when Joel Thorp and his pal kid- 
 naped you. Well, neither Joel nor his son Silas ever 
 forgave the marshal, and from that time forward they 
 sought by every means in their power to injure or to 
 destroy him. They were finally only too successful. 
 
 "You know that the marshal adopted me as his son. 
 Well, we were the same in feeling toward each other 
 as father and son ; his affection for me was sincere 
 and disinterested, and the gratitude I at first felt for
 
 306 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 the benefits he conferred upon me deepened into love; 
 and he was worthy of it. 
 
 "Before Silas Thorp left Boston, in fact on the very 
 night after the death of Mrs. Bardell, he came to the 
 marshal's house, and asked to see him. The marshal 
 was already suspicious of him, believing that -he had 
 some secret in his life not at all to his credit, at least, 
 but knowing him only as Doctor Pelham. The con- 
 duct of the man during that visit was so singular that 
 he was closely watched, both by the marshal and my- 
 self, and when he left the house the marshal said to 
 me: 
 
 'Charlie, I believe that man is not the person he 
 represents himself to be; and I believe he came here 
 to assassinate me!' 
 
 "I was greatly shocked at this, but the marshal's 
 manner was so earnest I believed he had some foun- 
 dation for his suspicions. Nothing further occurred, 
 however, and we soon heard of the revelations made 
 by Mrs. Bardell as to Doctor Pelham's identity, and 
 of the real cause of the captain's death; but Silas had 
 disappeared, as had all the rest of the brood, and we 
 supposed there was an end of the case. 
 
 "After the marshal's retirement from his office, 
 seven years ago, he lived quietly in Boston, where 
 I had engaged in business, and the lives of both of us 
 were as peaceful as we could wish, except for the death 
 of his wife, which happened two years ago. That event 
 left the old gentleman low-spirited; and last summer 
 I persuaded him to take a trip with me to England. 
 
 "We came to London; and in October went down to.
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 307 
 
 Winchester to see you, anticipating a great amount of 
 pleasure from our visit. I will candidly confess that 
 we were painfully shocked at the story of your mis- 
 fortunes and your wife's; and we hastened back to 
 London. 
 
 "One foggy night, about six o'clock, we were pa^s- 
 ing through Regent's Park on our way to our lodgings 
 in St. John's Wood Road, Portland Town, when a 
 man sprang into the path from the grove on our right, 
 and drove a knife into the marshal's side. 
 
 "By the lights from the windows of the Clergy Or- 
 phan School opposite the park entrance, I caught a 
 moment's glimpse of the assassin's face, before he 
 turned away. It was the face of Doctor Pelham! 
 
 "The murderer ran out of the park and into Well- 
 ington Place, followed by a number of people brought 
 to the spot by my outcries, while I remained with 
 my benefactor. With assistance at hand, we bore him 
 into the Orphan School building, where the murderer's 
 knife was withdrawn; and inside of an hour I was 
 alone. Then, looking down on the dead face of the 
 noble friend I had lost, I uttered an oath of vengeance 
 against his murderer, who, I believed, had escaped 
 Such was the fact; and I began my search for him. 
 
 "I traced him from place to place, finally to Paris. 
 There, irl*a parcel office, I saw a box on which his in- 
 famous name was painted. I watched the office, saw 
 you and your three friends enter, and recognized 
 Dane Walraven. 
 
 "When Silas Thorp took the box away, I followed 
 after his cab. He dogged you to your hotel, then went
 
 308 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 to the Quai d'Orsay, where he wrote the letter you 
 received, which he gave to a boy to deliver, and was 
 then joined by Joel Thorp and Crouch. 
 
 "1 bribed the boy to let me read the letter then, re- 
 sealed and addressed it, and it went to youthat night. 
 The three wretches took the barge to Auxerre, and I 
 slipped on board and kept out of sight, preceding 
 them to the inn, where I later on heard their plot to 
 destroy you and your wife. I followed them on to the 
 village yonder, keeping them in view day after day, 
 until they arrived last night. Then I went to the land- 
 lord of the inn at which the father and Crouch 
 stopped, told him they were escaped murderers, and 
 induced him to send for two gendarmes to hold them 
 until your arrival. They are down there, in the hands 
 of the soldiers, who await your coming. 
 
 "I lost track of Silas last night, but went on up the 
 mountain this morning, and found him asleep in a hol- 
 low near the old convent. I bound his hands and feet 
 without waking him, and then roused him. The rage 
 and astonishment of the wretch were beyond descrip- 
 tion. He raved like a maniac, cursed and taunted me, 
 struggled to free himself, and ended by mockingly re- 
 hearsing his horrible deed in the park! I became 
 maddened, caught up a coil of rope which he had 
 brought with him no doubt for some murderous pur- 
 pose and tied it about him, then started to drag him 
 down the mountain. Doubtless he knew his doom 
 was certain, whether I or the law had him; for he 
 railed at me as I dragged him along, telling me that 
 he had intended to swing you over the cliff, bound
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 309 
 
 hand and foot, and to leave you there for the vultures! 
 I feared to let such a fiend live and I drew him down 
 the cliff and over the precipice." 
 
 As Vincent stopped speaking, he turned his eyes 
 toward the black rock above, started, and exclaimed: 
 
 "Look! And remember that I saved you both." 
 
 On the verge of the rock stood the woman in gray, 
 looking down upon their upturned faces with a scared 
 face, with distended eyes, with outspread hands. 
 
 At the sight of her his wife Dane Walraven 
 uttered a frightful cry, and fell back into his friend's 
 arms; but without heeding this, Agnes darted around 
 the base of the rock, and in a minute more had ap- 
 peared on the summit. Before Eleanor could retreat, 
 Agnes had caught her by both arms, and held her with 
 a strength she in vain struggled to overcome. 
 
 The next instant, Vincent had reached the two, and 
 together they led the trembling woman down the 
 rock-strewn path to the spot where her husband lay 
 white as marble, and as rigid. 
 
 Eleanor's eyes wandered a moment over the faces of 
 the speechless group, as if pleading for an explanation. 
 Her clouded reason for a few moments even prevented 
 her from seeing what lay at her feet. She seemed 
 petrified with fear, and a low, hysterical laugh issued 
 from her open lips. 
 
 With a sob of uncontrollable grief, Agnes laid her 
 hand upon the arm that hung listlessly at her side, 
 and whispered: 
 
 "Do you not know him your husband?" 
 
 A gleam of light came into the dark eyes; they
 
 3IO DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 settled upon the prostrate and rigid figure over which 
 the two men knelt, and with a cry of anguish she 
 threw herself upon it. 
 
 "Oh, God! Oh, God!" she screamed, pressing her 
 hands upon his haggard face, "I have killed him!" 
 
 The next instant she lay at his side, and the two 
 white faces were as those of the dead.
 
 CHAPTER LIII 
 
 LOOK ON THIS PICTURE, READER, THEN ADIEU 
 
 "No doubt by this time he's been doing mischief 
 Aha! there's a young woman at his kerchief, 
 Teaching the parson how to tie a knot, 
 For dominie stands by, as if 'twere in the plot. 
 
 Fair Felix. 
 
 Winchester was agog. 
 
 The staid old cathedral town was in a state of so- 
 cial ebullition. Groups of grave citizens stood on the 
 streets, discussing a subject the merest mention of 
 which sent business to the dogs, and secured the in- 
 stant attention of the busiest tradesman. 
 
 What was the cause of all this commotion? 
 
 A hundred tongues were ready to tell the humblest 
 beggar who asked for news instead of alms. The 
 gossips of the town flew hither and thither in house- 
 raiment, but never so much as an eyebrow was raised 
 at the bonnet awry or the gown unstayed, if the wearer 
 brought news. Toilets were forgotten, business was 
 suspended, dinners were neglected; and every face wore 
 a triple expression amazement, awe, incredulity. 
 
 Two men, clad in the garb of sailors, came with a 
 rolling gait toward the "Black Swan" Inn, just off a 
 ship at Southampton. Near the inn they stopped to 
 inquire "what was going on in the dum town?" 
 
 A ready tongue informed them: 
 
 311
 
 312 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 "At Walraven House, out yonder by the Itchen, the 
 mistress died ten months ago, and was laid away safe 
 and snug in the family vault, on the day of the earth- 
 quake hereabouts. That night, her body was burned 
 to ashes, because the lightning struck the vault, and 
 the earthquake threw it down. It was positively true; 
 the coffin and the body were both consumed. 
 
 "Well, to-day the mistress came to life again. She 
 is there at Walraven House, and her husband is 
 there; a live man and a ghost, mayhap. But it is a 
 resurrection; the days of miracles have returned!'" 
 
 The two men had listened attentively. But they 
 showed neither awe nor astonishment, simply fear. 
 They stared into each others' weather-beaten faces, and 
 one of them said, in a hoarse whisper: 
 
 "Curse 'em, they'll have us again, if we don't make 
 tracks. It were hard enough to slip them French 
 bagonets, but it will be 'arder 'ere. Blast m' eyes, 
 wot's become o' Sile, that he didn't warn us the cove 
 wos a comin' 'ome?" 
 
 "Perhaps they've got him," snarled the other; "but 
 come along, let's make for the station. We must get 
 aboard the dickey and put for the Isle." 
 
 They were hurrying on toward the station, at every 
 step casting uneasy glances around them, and mutter- 
 ing curses upon their "bloody luck," when a squad of 
 constables approached them, headed by a sergeant and 
 a man in civilian's dress. 
 
 The civilian was Dane Walraven. As he crossed 
 the street toward the sailors, his dark eyes lost their 
 natural tints and became balls of flame.
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 313 
 
 "At last!" he exclaimed, holding himself back with 
 a mighty effort, as he looked into the faces of his 
 mother's and his father's murderers. 
 
 "Who be these, your worship?" inquired the sergeant, 
 eyeing his prospective game with professional satis- 
 faction. 
 
 "They are the murderers we are after James Crouch 
 and Joel Thorp," returned Walraven, "take them!" 
 
 The sailors had stopped, dumfounded by this sudden 
 irruption of their enemies. 
 
 "Give 'em the darbies, you fellers! " commanded the 
 sergeant; and without a movement of resistance, the 
 fetters were slipped on the brawny wrists, and the 
 prisoners were led briskly down the street. 
 
 As they were hurried along, Joel succeeded in recov- 
 ering his breath, and turning his head, yelled hoarsely : 
 
 "Oh, you're in for it, yet. There's one of us left, 
 an' he'll find ye, curse ye!" 
 
 That was a gala-night at Walraven House. From 
 every window streamed a- golden flood of light from 
 sconce and candlestick. In the long dining hall tables 
 were spread with snowy damask, decked with flowers 
 of every hue and perfume, loaded with dainty fruits 
 and condiments. Servants flitted through the passages 
 and halls with noiseless feet and smiling faces, or 
 tripped up and down the staircases on many and mys- 
 terious errands. A tall butler in blue and buff livery 
 came into the dining-hall from time to time to inspect 
 with professional eye the arrangement of the table up- 
 on which dinner was soon to be served. 
 
 It was to be a dinner of thanksgiving; and the first
 
 314 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 course was to appear on the table at precisely six, to 
 as many plates. It was now five o'clock and thirty 
 minutes, as the butler informed the cook, by messenger 
 (the dignity of his office not permitting him to visit 
 the kitchen), and the terrapin must be brought on in 
 just twenty-three minutes. 
 
 Five minutes after this important announcement the 
 front door knocker sent its miniature thunder through 
 the house, and as the call was answered by a footman, 
 a fresh, ringing voice exclaimed: 
 
 "Gingham, as I live! " 
 
 And then there was a merry laugh that startled the 
 echoes, waking some that had slept in unvisited 
 corners and chambers for a quarter of a century. 
 
 "Well, G. Ingham," resumed the voice, after the 
 echoes had gone to sleep again, "so you've changed 
 your vocation and I will have to get another groom 
 and champion. " 
 
 "Oh, miss, I'll do your fighting if you please 
 atween and atwixt me dooties 'ere," responded the 
 footman, with subdued heartiness. 
 
 "Thanks, Gingham. But we are here now on a mis- 
 sion of peace. You've had no occasion, I hope, to tap 
 the claret since I left Winchester, have you?" 
 
 "Waunce, miss, begging your parding. " 
 
 "Really!" with intense interest in the soft tones. 
 "And pray, whose did you spill, Gingham?" 
 
 "It were the gardener's, miss. He said as 'ow he'd 
 put a nose on me." 
 
 "A nose on you! That's rich. Now, Gingham, if 
 he had offered to take some off, he would have done
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 315 
 
 you a favor," glancing at the footman's extraordinary 
 proboscis. 
 
 "Me nose is not at all in me way, miss," returned he, 
 with lugubrious gravity, resuming his ramrod attitude 
 suddenly. 
 
 "Keep it all, then, Gingham," said Miss Agnes, con- 
 descendingly. "Where's Mr. Doolittle and my father?" 
 
 "In the library, miss, with Mr. Walraven." 
 
 "And Mrs. Walraven?" 
 
 "In the library with the gentlemen, miss." 
 
 "And Mrs. Cavendish?" 
 
 "Oh, the 'ousekeeper. She's in the dining-hall, 
 waiting to receive the dishes as they comes in 'ot. " 
 
 "You'll pass, Gingham," and Miss Agnes swept into 
 the library at the moment dinner was announced. 
 Then, six smiling people took their places at the 
 flower-laden table in the center. Mrs. Walraven was 
 attired in a dinner dress of rich wine-colored silk, 
 daintily trimmed with rare old lace, her beautiful face 
 warmed by a faint tinge of pink, her eyes lustrous and 
 peaceful. 
 
 Walraven's face no longer wore its hunted, haggard 
 expression, but all its lineaments were smooth, while 
 the rich hue of health darkened his cheek, and hi? blue 
 eyes shone with happiness and gratitude, as they 
 looked into those of his wife. 
 
 In such forgiveness as he found there, surely there 
 was sublimity; but then, Eleanor Walraven was the 
 noblest of women. 
 
 Two months had been spent on the Continent, after 
 the reunion on the Jura, Agnes and her father, and
 
 316 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 Mr. Doolittle being of the party. At Blenheim Mrs. 
 Walraven had made the acquaintance of an English 
 widow lady, who was then a governess in the min- 
 ister's family; and a sudden liking for her induced an 
 offer of a position as a companion, which the lady 
 had accepted. On the return to Walraven House, Mrs. 
 Cavendish had assumed temporarily the charge of the 
 house. She was a prepossessing person, of perhaps 
 forty, refined and amiable; and she had been accorded 
 a position as a member of the family. 
 
 Mrs. Cavendish sat at the end of the table, opposite 
 the host, and at her left Mr. Doolittle had been placed, 
 Agnes sitting on his left. 
 
 It was observed by Agnes, whose eyes were like 
 meteors, that the Reverend Ebenezer Doolittle and the 
 comely widow exchanged frequent amatory glances dur- 
 ing the meal, and appeared to have established rela- 
 tions decidedly confidential. Once, indeed, the young 
 lady actually detected them clasping hands under the 
 table! 
 
 Much disgusted by this unclerical conduct, Agnes 
 took the arm of Mr. Doolittle, when the party rose to 
 return to the library, and detained him in the hall, un- 
 til the rest were out of hearing. Then, releasing him, 
 she turned him briskly about, so that she faced him. 
 
 "Dolly," she exclaimed, frowning with a severity 
 that greatly abashed him, "you have been canting so 
 long, it seems impossible for you to ever be vertical. 
 Now, I want to tell you that I won't have any more 
 such actions as you were just now guilty of at the 
 table! You're a sweet-scented nosegay, aren't you?"
 
 DANE WALRAVEN 317 
 
 "Nay, nay, my dear friend," stammered he, becom- 
 ing very red, "the the charms of Venus " 
 
 "Oh, oh, you old masher!" groaned Agnes, horrified 
 at this semi- confession; "ever since we left Paris, you 
 have been showing symptoms of this renegadism. But 
 I tell you," with a stamp of the little foot, "it shall 
 stop right here. If I see any more of it cropping out 
 I shall let Gingham loose, and he'll shake you up till 
 you'll think you are crossing a buffalo-wallow at two- 
 forty in a butcher's wagon! 
 
 "Now," continued the poor man's trainer, taking 
 him by the hand and drawing him toward the library 
 door, "get that rueful look off your face at once, Dolly, 
 and caper. " 
 
 Mr. Doolittle "capered" in right lively fashion, glad 
 to escape further lecturing; and the little assembly 
 was soon employed in discussing plans for the ensuing 
 week. 
 
 That night, when they were about to separate for 
 their respective rooms, Mr. Walraven asked Mr. Doo- 
 little to make his home at Walraven House. 
 
 "You are alone," said the grateful host, "and you 
 have been with us long; we should miss you greatly." 
 
 Mr. Doolittle's eyes were somewhat moist, as he list- 
 ened to this kindly talk; but he shook his head slow- 
 ly, and his eyes wandered over to a corner of the room 
 where the fair widow sat. Rising with deliberateness, 
 he walked with his old time dignity, his right hand 
 thrust in the bosom of his tightly-buttoned frock coat, 
 straight toward the unsuspecting lady, and taking her 
 hand in his, he led her up to Dane, both of them 
 blushing rosily.
 
 3l8 DANE WALRAVEN 
 
 "My kind friend," said he, with emotion which well 
 became him, "in declining your generous invitation 
 with thanks, it is meet that I give a sufficient reason. 
 This dear woman has promised to accompany me back 
 to Boston as my wife. To-morrow we shall notify a 
 minister of our intention to unite. Congratulate me, 
 dear friends, on my prospect of happiness." 
 
 The good man turned toward each of his astonished 
 auditors with a beaming countenance and as he did 
 so, they rose and approached him. 
 
 "Dolly," said Agnes, giving him her slender hand, 
 "I was mistaken; you are excusable!" 
 
 When they had each bid him godspeed, Dane and 
 Eleanor remained standing, each holding one of his 
 chubby hands. 
 
 "God bless you, my dear sir," said Dane, with 
 warmth, "you have been a faithful helper to me; and 
 when you go back to Boston, the city we all love so 
 well, it will add, I doubt not, to your happiness to 
 the happiness of both of you to feel that ours is re- 
 stored." 
 
 The large blue eyes of the worthy gentleman grew 
 misty as they wandered affectionately from husband to 
 wife, and he murmured softly: 
 
 "Whom He loveth, He chasteneth. " 
 
 THE END
 
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