MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK 
 
 -A NOVEL 
 
 ARCHIBALD CLAVERING GUNTER 
 
 AUTHOR OF THE PLAYS 
 
 PRINCE KARL," "THE DEACON'S DAUGHTER 
 
 "FRESH, THE AMERICAN," "TWO NIGHTS 
 
 IN ROME," ETC., ETC. 
 
 TORONTO : 
 
 WILLIAM BRYCE. 
 1888.
 
 vi 
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 THE DUEL AT AJACCIO. 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 WAITING. 
 
 " YES, I rather imagine this is the exact spot," says Mr. Burton 
 H. Barnes, of New York, to the venerable host of the very old 
 and very dilapidated little inn that stands on the shores of the 
 Grulf of Ajaccio, near where the Bastia road turns inland, and, 
 following up the Gravona torrent, first through the omr.^e and 
 citron groves of the fertile Campoloro and then over hills covered 
 with the vine and olive, is lost in the chestnut woods that hide the 
 lower slopes of the great Monte del Oro. 
 
 Nothing can be in more vivid and striking contrast than the 
 man and his surroundings ; the light civilization of an exponent 
 of New York fashion of the year 1882 stands face to face with the 
 barbaric romance of the old Corsican scene and the mediaeval 
 picturesqueness of the native costume of the old inn-keeper, who 
 curiously asks, in his soft, southern patois, ignoring the French in 
 which Mr. Barnes has addressed him, '-The spot for what, Sig- 
 nor '? " 
 
 " The spot where there is going to be a first-class duel this 
 morning, as soon as there is light enough to kill." 
 
 " To kill what ? " 
 
 "Each other! Don't you know what a duel is?" Here Mr. 
 Barnes gives a short dissertation on the code of honor, illustrating 
 his French with vigorous pantomimic action. 
 
 " Ah ! a kind of vendetta" says the old man, brightening. 
 
 " Yes, a civilized vendetta. You know what that is, I've no 
 doubt."
 
 Mli. UAKKES OF NEW TORK. 
 
 " My father, the fisherman, fell in one," says the Corsican, 
 moodily ; " he was drowned." 
 
 "And the man who killed your father?" asks the American, 
 with/some interest. 
 
 " Was drowned also. I am the son of my father. My father's 
 slayer was the last of their accursed family, so now 1 sleep in 
 peace. Would the gentleman like breakfast ? " and trade over- 
 comes his romance. 
 
 " Yes ; place a table for me, Mateo I think that's what you 
 called yourself out here on the portico. Give me a flask of your 
 best chianti, some fruit, and something to eat, if you've got any- 
 thing not stuffed with chestnuts. I'll make myself comfortable 
 till the time comes." 
 
 ' Eggs 1 " triumphantly suggests the host. 
 " Yes. Eofes don't taste of chestnuts." 
 
 Eggs don't 
 
 As Mateo goes in to attend this order, Mr. Barnes mutters to 
 himself, " Always best to take things easy till it's time to act," 
 and sinking lazily upon the most comfortable stool he can find, 
 gazes meditatively over the exquisite scene that the early morning 
 light is just making distinctly beautiful. 
 
 The portico of the inn faces the bay, and is only separated from 
 its torpid ripples by a few feet of shingle and rocks that run out 
 into the blue water. This is now just brightening in the morning 
 sun, rising over the white peaks of the Corsican mountains, that, 
 as usual, in spring, are shrouded in mists. Far out to sea, the 
 lateen sails of fishing boats look like sea-gulls' wings ; in the har- 
 bor a score or so of feluccas and speronares from Sardinia and 
 Sicily are hardly moving under the lazy breeze, while the dark low 
 hull of an English gun-boat, which has put into Ajaccio to pur- 
 chase some supplies of poultry and fruit for her officers' mess, is 
 giving out from her short funnel a black cloud of smoke that in- 
 dicates that she will soon be under way for Alexandria to assist 
 at Arabia Pasha's downfall. 
 
 Mr. Barnes looks gloomily at her as he says to himself, " Wish 
 that beggar would sail before her time ; it would perhaps save me 
 making a fool of myself." Then rolling a cigarette, he turns, and 
 looking inland up the Bastia road, continues : " No sign of Marina 
 yet. I sent the courier for her at ten o'clock last night. If Cor- 
 sican horseflesh can do it, she should be here on time. But Cor- 
 sican horseflesh is at best only polo-pony horseflesh ; the roads 
 are slow, and (looking at his watch) it is seven o'clock now. 
 If I can't stop these fellows making fools of themselves, and any- 
 thing happens to him, Heaven pity her ! it's a hard world." 
 
 With a sigh, Mr. Barnes goes off into a brown study, meditat- 
 ing what a fool he has been to come to Corsica, moufflon shooting,
 
 II . l.ARNES OF NEW YORK. 5 
 
 when he might just as well have been shooting some other wild 
 animal, on some other part of the earth's surface. 
 
 Mr, Barnes is not a typical New Yorker. At first sight he is 
 always suspected of being what is now contemptuously called a 
 dude ; but if his dress from its elaboration, almost to the point of 
 affectation, might make an observer suppose him one, his bearing 
 and manner would in a very short time prove that he was also a 
 man, and a man who knew and understood both the world and 
 himself pretty thoroughly. Mr. Barnes' occupation in the twenty- 
 eight years of his life has been killing time. Being blessed with 
 an ample fortune, he has never earned his own living ; though he 
 once thought he ought to have a profession, and studied surgery 
 till he discovered that the death rate of the world was ten a year 
 to every practicing physician ; whereupon, glad of the excuse, Mr. 
 Barnes said he would let his ten men live, and refused to take out 
 his diploma. Being compelled to kill time, he has mostly killed 
 it by killing wild animals. A crack shot of the New York Rifle 
 Club, he has once or twice saved an International match by liter- 
 ally having no nerves at the critical moment when it was abso- 
 lutely necessary to shoot a bull's eye to win , consequently, before 
 dangerous game, especially tigers, Mr. Barnes is very deadly. 
 
 Not averse to the chase in any form, he would gladly have 
 hunted in the preserves of Belgravia and Fifth Avenue, for he 
 had the entree to both English and American society, but he de- 
 spised a long flirtation with its imperceptible advances and calcu- 
 lated manreuvres, which he stigmatized as " Snaring canary birds 
 and not true sport." 
 
 Too languid to dance in a ball-room, he would climb the Rocky 
 Mountains to kill a big-horn ; consequently, when over a game of 
 Baccarat at a Parisian club, a passing acquaintance, Count Musso 
 Danella, a Corsican, invited him to visit his estates on the island 
 for the purpose of killing moufflon, Mr Barnes accepted, and 
 within the three weeks preceding the day we meet him, had shot 
 all the moufflon he desired, traveled generally over the island, but 
 had missed seeing what he was most curious about a vendetta in 
 ictual progress, and was at Ajaccio, en route for France, when he 
 became engaged in the morning adventure that now occupies him. 
 not on his own account, but for the sake of a young lady he had 
 met in the interior of the island. 
 
 The next estate to that of his host in the fair valley of the 
 Gravona, below the far spreading chestnut and beech woods of 
 Bocognano, was one belonging to a family in whose veins flows the 
 blood most honored and most loved in all Corsica, that of the old- 
 time patriot and liberator, Pasquale Paoli, and the young lady was 
 one of the last of that ancient name.
 
 6 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 Count Musso Danella was the guardian of both the girl and her 
 brother, their father having died while they were children,' au<! 
 had invited Barnes to visit, with him, his young ward who had 
 just returned from an Italian boarding school, in order to meet her 
 brother, a young naval officer in the service of the French Re- 
 public, expected home from a three years' cruise. 
 
 " She will return to school no more ; they write they will not 
 have her back," says the Count, as they ride up the avenue of olive- 
 trees toward the low, Corsican house. 
 
 " Indeed ! Why 1 " asks Barnes. 
 
 " Per Bacco ! she is too Corsican for them ; she loves liberty 
 too well. She ran away from school to hear Gerster sing in Flor- 
 ence one night, and threatened her painting master with an un- 
 known vengeance if he dared to desecrate with daubs from his no- 
 school modern Italian brush, a painting she had just finished. 
 The Italian sent her picture unaltered to me with his complaint : 
 I sent Marina's picture to the Salon, and when it received an 
 honorable mention, I threw the Italian's complaint into the fire ! ' 
 
 " A picture from a girl receive mention at the Paris Salon 1" 
 Mr. Barnes gasps in unbelief. 
 
 " I think it was as much the subject, as the treatment, secured 
 its success; for with true girlish vanity she had painted herself, 
 laughs the Count, as they enter the house. The next instant 
 Barnes sees the original, and then only wonders that the copy, if 
 half a likeness, did not gain the gold medal of the year. 
 
 As she rises to receive them, the girl drapes her modern Paris- 
 ian dress about her, like some old Grecian robe, and outlines a 
 form perfect as her face, which is of the most bewildering, dazzi- 
 .ithern beauty, animated by a soul, that, shining through it 
 with changing piquancy of expression, makes it indescribable, To 
 love her would have been to love, perhaps, within the hour a Juliet 
 and Madonna; and, perchance, in one dread moment of her life. 
 a Lady Macbeth all strangely beautiful and each Marina 
 Paoli. 
 
 Barnes, whose descriptive adjectives are limited, called her " a 
 stunner," and was right as regards his own sensations, for she 
 simply appalled him, not perhaps when he first saw her but after- 
 wards. 
 
 As she comes toward them with a smile of welcome, the Count 
 presuming on his guardianship is about to kiss her lips ; the smile 
 changes to a flash of hauteur as she coldly says, " I've grown 
 older now my hand, please." 
 
 While the man of the world with his forty years of Parisian life 
 that cost him fifty, smiling behind his white teeth bends over her 
 fingers, Barnes suddenly thinks that Musso loves her; and th.-it
 
 MR. BAKXES OP NEW YORK. f 
 
 f 
 
 the young girl with her sex's instinct has placed a rampart between 
 his passion and herself. 
 
 As Mr. Barnes is introduced, her smile is back again ; she ex- 
 claims, " An American ! a freeman ! you can kiss my hand also !" 
 
 " You like republicans 1 " 
 
 " I hate tyrants and despise slaves. I should only bow to a 
 Russian or a Turk, but an American it is different ! " 
 
 ' I'm glad I'm an American," says Mr. Barnes, kissing her 
 hand ; af d that kiss gave him interest enough in her life to make 
 him turn out of his way, on the day we first see him, to do her a 
 service. 
 
 They are friends at once. The girl sings him a strain or two 
 from an opera, accompanying herself on a mandolin. Then, from 
 Italian music, she turns to that of her own island, and chants 
 some old native ballads which are all Lamenti relating to the 
 vendetta - for in Corsica there are no other local songs. This leads 
 to her explaining to Mr. Barnes what the vendetta really is ; that 
 it is considered a sacred duty to avenge one of the family who 
 falls by another's hand , that the " Rimbecco " is a reproach which 
 is spoken or sung to him who forgets the wrongs of kindred, and 
 a Corsican who did not listen to it would be forever despised. 
 With this, she chants a Rimbecco with a wild pathos that shows, 
 though educated in the civilization of the continent, Marina Paoli 
 is still in spirit a Corsican. 
 
 With some curiosity he asks her whether there has ever been a 
 vendetta in her family. 
 
 " Not for three generations," says the girl, " but it always comes 
 in the third, and that is ours. There are only three of us ,old 
 Tomasso, who serves me so faithfully and who is my foster-father 
 and would avenge my wrongs as his own ; myself, and Antonio, 
 my brother " (her eyes take an expectant look), " the only one of 
 my blood I have to love, whose letter I shall soon receive telling 
 me when I shall place my kiss upon him. Ah ! I hear horses' 
 hoofs ! Mia Madre ! if it is he ! " 
 
 Her face brightens with a great joy and she darts out into the 
 portico. After a pause the Count says : " Would you like to see 
 the picture of the Parisian Salon ? " 
 
 He draws aside a curtain, disclosing a canvas that as Barnes 
 throws the lamp-light on it, develops into a portrait of Marina 
 in the costume of a Corsican peasant with its brilliantly colored 
 uiandile and short skirt, that give to her graceful figure even ad- 
 ditional charms; but her face has a dreamy expression, as if her 
 soul was far away from her body, and her eyes look intensely 
 strained, seeking some one that comes not. The attitude is one 
 of expectant passion. Underneath is written, " WAITING ! "
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 ,* 
 
 " Ah, waiting for her lover ! I understand ! " laughs Barnes. 
 
 " No ! Waiting for her brother he is the only being Marina 
 loves. The two children grew up, as it were, in each others arms ; 
 until three years ago, their lives were one and now she awaits, 
 his coming like an expectant bride. There is no room in her 
 heart for any other love ! " remarked Musso moodily. 
 
 The words have hardly left him, when Marina enters like one 
 inspired. " See," she cries, " his letter ! my Antonio's letter ! " 
 and she kisses it. " He will be in Corsica to-morrow, |p,nd the 
 next day " (a sigh of longing) " with me ! I have sent old Tom- 
 asso to light fires of good omen on the hills, so that our shepherds 
 on the higher ranges of del Oro may know their master is return- 
 ing and come to give him welcome. I shall wear that dress wher^ 
 next I see him," she points to the picture. " He loved me best 
 as one of his own people." 
 
 " We had better go," whispers Danella to our American. " She 
 will now think only of her brother." 
 
 As they take their leave, the Count asks for the bunch of 
 white laurel flowers the girl wears. But she plucks them from 
 her bosom and thrusts them into the hands of the astonished 
 Barnes. Danella scowls threateningly at the young man. Mar 
 ina noticing, says quickly with a laugh, " Do not be jealous ; Mr. 
 Barnes will take them for me to Ajaccio, and if he sees my brother, 
 give Antonio the flowers of his native land and tell him that 
 Marina, who is waiting, sent them, and will rest no more until he 
 gives them back to her. Understand you are not even to smell 
 them ; their perfume is all for my brother." 
 
 As the two men ride away, she stands looking after them, her 
 eyes beaming with expectation. Backed by the lire-light that 
 streams from the open panes past the iron gratings that defend 
 all windows in this unquiet ^country, she forms a picture of joy 
 and love that is almost mediaeval in its intensity. 
 
 " By George ! They don't manufacture such girls in Fifth 
 Avenue ! " says Mr. Barnes. 
 
 " No ! Civilization would stunt the growth of such a heart, 
 Marina has the two great native passions -love of country and 
 love of family ; but there are none like her, not even in Corsica . 
 While her brother lives she will love no other man." 
 
 " But if she should ? " suggests, laughingly, the American. 
 
 " Not while I live ! " cries the Corsican with a muttered oath 
 and a sudden sinister contraction of his face that tells Barnes his 
 secret. " But you take the road to Ajaccio, and it leaves mine 
 .here." On which the two men part with many a kindly farewell, 
 for, though Barnes despises a man who cannot keep his temper, 
 and the Count has the passions of the lower regions, they have
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 9 
 
 l>een good comrades for their three weeks' shooting and have bagi*<><l 
 much game ; which makes all sportsmen feel kindly to one 
 another. 
 
 As Barnes rides down the beautiful valley that is watered by 
 the white rapids of the Gravona rushing towards the sea, he smells 
 the perfume of the laurel flowers and sees the fires of welcome 
 lighted upon the hills, and knows that any kindness done to the 
 brother will make the sister his friend ; and, though his common- 
 sense forbids him to love a volcano, he would do much to gain her 
 esteem. 
 
 The. next evening he is in Ajaccio ; and, thoughtful of his mes- 
 sage to Antonio, lounges into the local Club, which with the tra- 
 ditional hospitality of all Corsica, is open to foreigners, thinking 
 to find him. 
 
 There are but few visitors at that most quiet of all quiet club.s, 
 The Circle of Ajaccio, and Barnes at first thinks there are none ; 
 but soon angry voices come to him from the next room, followed 
 by a couple of good round home-made Anglo-Saxon oaths that no 
 foreigner could imitate. 
 
 Glancing in, he sees two French officers, and an English one, 
 who evidently belongs to some British man-of-war in the harbor, 
 as he wears the naval uniform of that country. 
 
 The matter of their dispute is the Egyptian question, which up 
 to this time makes very bad blood between the two countries ; 
 and in 1882, before the bombardment of Alexandria, was the 
 cause of even more decided and bitter feeling than now. The 
 controversy has been brought about by an extremely clever car- 
 toon in the London Punch, that is lying on the table of the Club. 
 This picture represents a gigantic palm tree laden with Egyptian 
 cocoanuts, that France, in the costume of a French officer, is shak- 
 ing so that the fruit will fall right into the open and capacious 
 jaws of the British lion, who is reclining lazily beneath its 
 branches. 
 
 As Mr. Barnes looks in, the climax is reached by the French 
 officer calling the'Englishinan a liar, and the next instant getting 
 knocked down for his trouble. 
 
 The Frenchman gathers himself together, which takes some 
 little time, as the blow was straight from the shoulder, rises and 
 is about to spring at his opponent, when his comrade stops him 
 saying " Not now ! " 
 
 The assaulted man restrains himself, bows and presents his card, 
 in the eagerness of the moment drawing two from his case. The 
 Englishman takes one, leaving the other on the table, and theji 
 says, " You must excuse my giving my card in return." 
 
 " A brave man ! " thinks Barnes. "He has courage enough to 
 refuse a duel."
 
 10 MK. BAKNE8 OF NEW YORK. 
 
 k "And you are an English officer?" says the Frenchman with 
 a sneer. 
 
 " And it is because I am an English officer that I refuse. To 
 send or accept a challenge is against the orders of the British 
 Admiralty. 
 
 " Not quite so brave as I thought him : he fears the British 
 Admiralty," mutters Barnes. 
 
 " Ah ! you dare not ! " says the Frenchman. " You are only 
 fit to fight Egyptians." 
 
 " I am very well able to murder you if you wish it," replies the 
 Englishman, " and if you put it on the ground of courage, I'll 
 face both you and a court-martial together." 
 
 A meeting is arranged for the next morning at eight sharp, at 
 the little inn by the shore, called II Pescatori, for the Englishman's 
 ship sails at nine. Then the men leave the club, the French offi- 
 cer remarking " Demain a la mort I " 
 
 This affair would not have interested Mr. Barnes greatly ; he 
 had once looked on a duel between two cow-boys in Texas, and 
 had seen enough blood shed at that meeting between those vaga- 
 bonds of the wilderness to make him wish never to see another ; 
 but, happening a few minutes afterward to stroll into the room 
 where the dispute had taken place, he picked up the card from the 
 table. After one hasty glance at it, and then another to be abso- 
 lutely sure, he went hurriedly out into the street, and, ten minu- 
 tes after, a Corsican boy, instructed to ride for his life, was spur- 
 ring wildly into the darkness up the Bastia road with a despatch 
 for Musso Danello. 
 
 The next morning Mr. Barnes hurried to the inn of H Pescatori 
 for the sake of the girl he had seen waiting so expectantly the 
 coming of her brother ; for the card he had picked up in the Ajac- 
 cio Club was, 
 
 M. Antonio Paoli, 
 $OH$ Lieutenant, 
 Marine Franffais.
 
 MB. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 11 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 COMING. ' 
 
 MR. BARNES divides his time on the little balcony of the inn> 
 where we first meet him, between alternately gazing impatiently 
 up the Bastia road for the dust of moving horses, glancing at his 
 watch and looking at the English gun-boat, in hopes she will sail ; 
 all the time industriously smoking cigarettes. He is interrupted 
 while rolling the third of these little soothers of human nature, by 
 the return of Mateo with his breakfast. 
 
 " Put it on that table there ! " 
 
 " Signer, this is the shady side of the balcony," says the inn- 
 keeper. 
 
 " But the other side has the view ! That's the ticket ! Now 
 those fellows can't come here and kill each other, by any chance, 
 without my getting my eye on them ! That's better chianti than 
 I thought you had in the island." Saying this, Mr. Barnes pro- 
 ceeds to make his breakfast with a very tolerable appetite. 
 
 Mateo anxiously waits near him and at last asks eagerly, " Do 
 you think these men who are to kill each other will come soon ? " 
 
 " Yes ; but what does that matter to you ? " 
 
 " They might want some breaklast also. They might be hungry 
 before they kill each other." 
 
 "Ah! that's what interests you," laughs Mr. Barnes. You 
 only look at the duello from a gastronomical and business stand- 
 point you've never seen one ? " 
 
 " No. We kill in Corsica, but not in that way. Have you 
 enjoyed a duel before, Signor ? " remarks Mateo, removing the 
 emptied egg-shells from before his guest and arranging the fruit. 
 
 " Yes ; once, between cow-boys in Texas. They killed each 
 other in ten seconds. It will suit me very well never to view 
 another." 
 
 " I should like to have seen it ; it must have been grand ! " 
 mumbles the old man. 
 
 But the recollection of the most terrible sight of his life makes 
 Mr. Barnes anxious about his present episode. He rises and 
 again looks up the road coming from the interior not even a 
 dust cloud not a sign of her. 
 
 " If Marina comes, her brother can't fight if he has any feeling 
 for her. 1 couldn't, with such a sister as that. I'd take no 
 chances of leaving her alone in the world," he half mutters. 
 
 Rolling another cigarette, he is about to sit down again, when,
 
 I!' MR. BARNES OF NEW YOBK. 
 
 as he turns towards the water, he sees a boat rowed by a con pi.' 
 of stout native fishermen rapidly round one of the points of rocks 
 that outline the little bay. A moment after, her bow, driven by 
 a vigorous stroke or two, is well up on the shelving beach. In 
 her stern sits the English officer of the night before, accompanied 
 by another, who is doubtless his second. 
 
 " The beggars are ahead of her," Mr. Barnes mutters. " I'll 
 have to do what I can myself. Anyhow, it is best to see the 
 Englishman first." 
 
 As the two officers land, and look along the beach, and then up 
 at the inn, apparently expecting to see their antagonist, a wild 
 thought flashes through Barnes' brain ; Marina's brother is not 
 yet here ; why not present himself as the brother's representative, 
 offer an apology from him to the Englishman, and send him back 
 to the ship, which has already hoisted in her boats, and is evidently 
 about to leave the harbor. A grim smile passes across his face at 
 this novel idea, but, even as he glances about to see that the Cor- 
 sican is not yet near enough to prevent his plan succeeding, he- 
 rejects it as a trick unworthy of him, feeling certain that if Mar- 
 ina ever discovered he had juggled with what she would consider 
 her brother's honor, she wonld doubtless hate him for such imper- 
 tinent interference. 
 
 The next instant he has taken his line, and impatiently tossing 
 away his half-smoked cigarette, he calls out, " I say, you chaps 
 down there ! Come up here and have some breakfast with me ! 
 I haven't seen an English face for a month ! I'm Barnes, of 
 New York ! " 
 
 The two British officers start in astonishment at the familiarity 
 of his address, and one of then, the principal of the affair, after a 
 short pause, says, taking off his cap, and bowing in almost 
 mock politeness, "Much obliged for your kind invitation, but we 
 are not hungry, and are here on an affair of business, Mister 
 Barnes, of New York ! " 
 
 The other, a more morose creature, mutters to himself, " Curse 
 the infernal impudence of Barnes, of New York," during this 
 taking out of the boat a couple of ominous looking packages. 
 
 They think I'm a fool, cogitates, Barnes of New York, and 
 that's half the negotiation. An acknowledged idiot can generally 
 drive a better bargain than a wise man ; people are not on their 
 guard against his wisdom. That makes a great deal of what is 
 commonly called "Fool's luck." 
 
 Mr. Barnes, of New York, has the peculiar faculty of always 
 leaving as a first impression, the fact that he is an utter imbecile 
 though on further acquaintance most people think they have made 
 a mistake.
 
 MK. BAUNES OF NtW YOKK. W 
 
 A momeut after, he shouts in reply, " That's the business I 
 v. ant to see you about ! Come up and have a glass of wine with 
 :ue in the shade. That'll be better than my going down to you. 
 That shingle belo\v, now the sun is on it, would roast a shrimp." 
 
 The two officers hold an undertone consultation, and then ascend 
 the half decayed little wooden stairway that leads from the shore 
 to the inn. They are both young men. One, the principal of the 
 :ili'air, is probably about thirty years of age, and wears the full 
 dress uniform of a lieutenant in Her Majesty's navy ; the other, 
 \vho is but little over twenty, that of a midshipman in the same 
 service. They are both generally the same sort of fellows who 
 fought under Nelson, and are described by Captain Marryat, with 
 the addition of a century's advance in refinement. The man of 
 the night before is fair, reasonably tall, and apparently amiable ; 
 the other, darker, shorter, and more inclined to be punctilliously 
 bloodthirsty, as seconds in affairs of honor generally are. He 
 lias rather a bull-dog countenance, and, with the recklessness of 
 vouth, is apparently determined his principal shall smell powder. 
 
 Arrived on the little balcony, the latter advances with quarter- 
 deck decision towards Mr. Barnes, who has taken another fruitless 
 glance up the Bastia road, and speaks to the point. 
 
 " You say you want to see us on this affair what affair ? " 
 
 " His affair of honor he's coining here to fight ? Hasn't he ? " 
 replies the American, indicating the principal by his glance. 
 
 " With whom ? " inquires the second, diplomatically. 
 
 " Monsieur Paoli, sous lieutenant in the French navy ! " says 
 Mr. Barnes. 
 
 " Ah ! you came then as a friend of the Frenchman ? " 
 
 " No ! " I am here on my own hook ! " 
 
 "Then by what right ?" The Englishman is drawing him- 
 ^lf up haughtily. 
 
 " I am a friend of his sister's ! " interrupts the American. 
 
 " His sister ! " ejaculates the second in surprise. The English- 
 men look at each other, and the principal turns away with a soft 
 !;>ok in his eyes. 
 
 His second does not regard the matter in the same light, as he 
 ueers, "Ah, breakers ahead ! I guess you're his sister's lover, 
 and perhaps are spoons enough on the sister to take the sister's 
 : > i-other's place ! " 
 
 ' I am not spoons on the sister, but if I did take his sister's 
 o! other's place in front of you, sir, you would not like it. I am 
 I larnes, of New York ! " The American finds it difficult to keep 
 his temper. 
 
 This peculiar repetition of "Barnes, of New York" evidently 
 ets his hearer to thinking, for he suddenly exclaims, " Not
 
 14 MK. BA11KES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 Barnes, of New York? the celebrated rifle shot, who won the 
 International off-hand cup, and whose shooting with the pistol in 
 Paris astonished the Frenchys so much, the Times said : " 
 
 "That's my name ! " The answer is neither modest nor logical, 
 but it is true, for Barnes' skill with all kinds of fire-arms has. 
 made his name celebrated the world over. 
 
 " Then you're the man who can drive tacks, split cards, and hit 
 swinging bullets?" Both the Britons look at him with much 
 respect. For a man to be admired in England has only to beat 
 everybody else at some sport that calls for nerve and pluck ; and 
 Mr. Barnes, in the shooting gallery, or before the butts in the 
 open field, is, to use an Americanism, "on top of the heap." 
 
 " No ! I don't care to stand before you," says the second. "I'd 
 like to have one more chance of seeing England; as I will, in spite 
 of those brutes of Egyptians, the cholera, and all that ; but before 
 your pistol I'd have none ! " 
 
 This speech has no fear in it, it is merely a statement of fact. 
 
 " But we must settle this matter quickly," he goes on. " The 
 Vulture" (he points to the gun-boat) "will sail in half an hour. 
 That Frenchman must be here in ten minutes or we return to our 
 ship." 
 
 " Then let me give you some wine ; it always makes human 
 nature more kindly ! Mateo ! glasses for the gentlerm u ! " 
 
 While this is being done, Lames goes out of the inn, and takes 
 another long searching gaze up the Bastia road. At first he can see 
 no sign of moving life in the early morning light ; after a time he is 
 almost sure there is a little cloud of rising dust between two hills 
 some miles distant. If that is she, it will be fifteen minutes before 
 Marina comes. As he turns away, two figures in French uniforms 
 are rapidly aproaching him along the road that conies from 
 Ajaccio ; and he knows that though the sister may be too late, the 
 brother will be in time. Returning to the Englishmen again, he 
 quietly says, " I know the interference of an outsider in such a 
 matter as this is unusual, and may !>< impertinent, but before you 
 tight the man I want to tell you of his sister." 
 
 After a moment's pause, the principal now for the first time 
 speaks. His voice, in contrast to his second's, is full of feeling : 
 his manner cultured, as he says, "His sister? What can any 
 man's sister have to do with a miserable afi'air of this kind? 
 His voice softens on the word sister, while the other, his second, 
 turns his eyes seaward, as if looking towards his home in old 
 England. 
 
 A great deal," is the reply. " Have you no sister ? " 
 
 " Yes, a dear one!" says the sailor. "But my sister in this 
 matter takes hor chance of losing a brother, and his sister must do-
 
 MR. BAUMCS OF NEW YORK. 15 
 
 the same. For God's sake don't talk to me of home and sisters* 
 and all that, at such a moment as this I " 
 
 As he hastily drinks down a glass of wine to conceal an emotion 
 that does him honor, Barnes now knows that, if he makes no mis- 
 take, his point is won. 
 
 " I won't talk to you of your sister ; I'll only speak to you of 
 his." And he gives them, in a few words, a description of the 
 Corsician home on the slope of the mountain ; of the young and 
 beautiful girl he has seen only the other day ; her romantic tem- 
 perament that has but one passion, her love for her brother ; the 
 only one of her blood upon earth; and her expectation of that 
 very day meeting him on his return from long foreign service. 
 
 " After what I have told you," Barnes concludes, " will you be 
 T lie man to prevent that meeting 1 " 
 
 The question is put straight, and is answered squarely. " God 
 fnrbid ! Not if I can avoid it ! " 
 
 " You can avoid it !" 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " By making an apology ? " 
 
 This is answered with equal squareness and more force by the 
 second. " I'm d d if he shall ! I won't let him ! " 
 
 Mr. Barnes wonders how he got on to the quarter-deck, and 
 more, why he was selected by one who is evidently a gentleman, 
 to support him in an affair of this delicate nature. 
 
 But the principal interrupts his second, saying, " You have en- 
 ;isted my sympathy for the young lady you describe, but her 
 Brother is a naval officer like me. Your appeal would do equally 
 well to his commanding officer to prevent his going into action ; 
 and how do you suppose his commanding officer would answer 
 you ? Besides, I did not challenge the beggar ; I dont want to 
 kill him ; I only want to protect myself." 
 
 " And if he pops at my friend, my friend shall pop at him ! " 
 rejoins the second, who is now becoming excited. 
 
 Barnes pays no attention to this remark, but waits till he 
 catches the eye of the principal, then looking him full in the face, 
 says, " Yery well, if he kills you ? " 
 
 " There'll be one less Englishman for the Egyptians to 
 :=hoot at ! " 
 
 " And if you kill him ?" says Mr. Barnes. 
 
 " I have told you already I don't want to kill him. I don't 
 mind taking my chance of life or death on the quarter-dock along 
 with the rest in action, though I want no private blood-stains 
 upon me ; but a man, with these foreign chaps, out here, must 
 uphold the honor of the British sailor and that flag ! " He points 
 to the beautiful ensign of his country, floating from the gaff of
 
 16 MU. HAR.VES OF NEW YollK. 
 
 the distant gun boat, that wherever seen, the world over, means 
 protection to the Anglo-Saxon race. " Situated as I am, would 
 you apologize ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes, if I were in the wrong ! " says Mr. Barnes. 
 
 " But I am not in the wrong ; at least not more so than the 
 other. This miserable affair all came about from a picture of 
 Punch, intended to make men laugh, not murder each other." 
 
 " Ah, yes, political cartoons, when witty, make one side laugh, 
 and the other side savage ; I wonder how many murders Punch 
 and Puck have produced ? " 
 
 The young naval officer is now laughing at the remembrance of 
 the picture. " It was so awfully jolly, you see. The lazy British 
 lion ha ! ha ! was eating all the fruit the French monkey was 
 shaking down to him " and he now describes the cut to his com- 
 panion, who bursts into a loud guffaw and says, " A deuced nice 
 mouthful it will be for the lion ; I wonder how we chaps '11 like 
 the dish, who have to do the crunching for the lion ! " 
 
 Mr. Barnes takes another look up the Bastia road ; the dust 
 cloud has left the hills and is now coming across the plain along 
 the banks of the Gravonna ; it is a little larger, consequently 
 nearer. But the two French officers are within three minutes' 
 walk of the inn. He catches his man's eye, and now strikes for 
 the last time, saying, 
 
 " For some political cause, it matters not what now, you got 
 into a dispute that was not personal." 
 
 "Not until he called me a liar ! " 
 
 " For which you knocked him down ; you've had the best of 
 the affair so far," insinuates the mediator. 
 
 " You see a man has to do something when a man calls him 
 that ; he can't swallow such a name ; I can't anyway !" rejoins 
 the Englishman. 
 
 " Yes," says Mr. Barnes diplomatically, " I should not like to 
 have any one call me a liar ; he might be telling the truth you 
 knew ; I should have knocked him down too, but having knocked 
 him down I should not care to kill him." 
 
 " Neither do I ! " 
 
 " Then why not tender an apology will you 1 " 
 
 " Y-e-s ! " says the young man rather reluctantly after consid- 
 eration. 
 
 " Then you do it against my advice, and if you do send one, 
 curse me if I'll carry it to a crowing Parlezvous ; I would'nt 
 mind so much if it wasn't a frog-eater ! " With these words the 
 second rises, goes to the other end of the balcony, gazes at the 
 gun-boat and whistles under his breath the air of an old sea-song. 
 
 Barnes glances after him in disgust ; he likes bull-dog dft</i-
 
 ME. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 17 
 
 ruination, but is too much of a cosmopolitan to have anything but 
 contempt for bull-dog brains and insular prejudice. 
 
 " Nevertheless I shall offer an apology," says the English gen- 
 tleman, after looking at the English bull-dog with a slight smile., 
 "but one that can in no way degrade me or lower the uniform I 
 wear." 
 
 "That's the answer of a brave man and a brick ! " cries the 
 enthusiastic Barnes, grasping his hand, " I wouldn't have you do 
 more." 
 
 " But in case he should not receive my explanation ? " 
 
 " He shall receive it ; I'll guarantee that he does. I have some- 
 thing here" (Mr Barnes is thinking of Marina's laurel flowers) 
 "that will make him receive any reasonable explanation." 
 
 " Ah ! something from his sister ; " says the Englishman. " I'm 
 glad of that ; I've no wish to injure him more than I have done, 
 and no wish that he should injure me. My friend there is not. 
 just the man I should have liked to have brought with me on such 
 an affair. Though true as steel and brave as any, he's too hot- 
 headed." He speaks this under his breath. 
 
 "The pugnacity of youth," suggests Barnes in the same tone. 
 
 " Yes. I should not have brought him, but none of my ward- 
 room messmates could get leave. I'm sorry if anything he has 
 said annoyed you." 
 
 " Not at all ! I took it for what it was worth ! " 
 
 Barnes is here interrupted by the object of their colloquy 
 advancing to them and saying to his comrade, " You have decided 
 to send an apology 1 " 
 
 " Yes ? I shall simply say that I am sorry I knocked him 
 down." 
 
 " No more ? " 
 
 " Not another word ! " 
 
 " And if he does not receive it? " 
 
 " Then I'll defend my life and my honor as best I can," comes 
 the reply. 
 
 " I'll take that message with a great deal of pleasure !" says the 
 second. 
 
 " Why ? " this question is from Barnes. 
 
 The answer comes straight as a shot. " Because I know Frenchy 
 will never receive it. Curse him ! " With that this British mas- 
 tiff produces two old-fashioned ship's pistols of the kind used in 
 the last generation, and begins to examine and test them. The 
 name of their maker, Jarvis, aud the date of their manufacture, 
 1S54, is stamped upon them. 
 
 " You're not going to use those things ? " says Mr. Barnes,
 
 18 Mli. HAKXKS OF NEW YOKK. 
 
 glancing with contempt at the weapons, and noticing their age 
 and maker. 
 
 " Why not 1 They are the only ones I could get without hav- 
 ing questions asked ; they'll kill a man as well as the best duelling 
 pistol ever made." 
 " Are you much of a shot ? " remarked Barnes to the principal. 
 
 " The worst in the world ! " is the reply. 
 
 " Then you are just the man to be deadly with one of these ! " 
 Barnes picks up the weapons and examines them. They are sim- 
 ply old percussion pistols with very large bores, long barrels, and 
 timber enough in their stocks to make a pair of walking-canes. 
 He puts them down, noting as he does so, that one has scratched 
 upon its stock, apparently done in some moment of idleness with 
 a knife, a name, " Edwin Gerard Anstruther," though the other 
 is free from all inscription. He has been rather curious to dis- 
 cover who the English officer is, and notes this with some interest, 
 as the two men have carefully avoided calling each other by name 
 during their interview with him. 
 
 Mr. Barnes, however, continues, " I'm morally certain a crack 
 shot, if he pointed one of these things straight at his man, would 
 miss him ; but a duffer with a pistol would be sure not to hold 
 true, and would be very liable to blow the top of his opponent's 
 head off. You're not anxious to do that, are you 1 " 
 
 " No ! " slowly says the Englishman. 
 
 " Then I'll teach you how to miss him." With that he takes a 
 couple of sighting shots, discharging the pistols at the face of the 
 cliff that is near him, and noting with careful accuracy the places 
 where the bullets struck. " Ah, now I can tell you exactly what 
 they'll do at twelve paces, as they both shoot pretty much the 
 same. Their elevation is near enough, but hold either of them 
 two feet to the right of your man and your ball '11 go plump 
 through him." 
 
 " And if," says the second with a laugh, "you hold two feet to 
 the left of him, how then ? " 
 
 " Then, standing where one of you must probably stand, you'd 
 have a very fair chance of bagging one of your Corsican boat- 
 men." 
 
 " Then what shall I do to miss him 1 " inquires the lieutenant. 
 
 " Shoot right straight at him and he's safe as if he wasn't shot 
 at," triumphantly replies Barnes. 
 
 During this dissertation upon fire-arms, the English combatant 
 has been looking seaward. His nautical eye has caught a sign of 
 the immediate departure of his vessel, for he suddenly says, " If 
 my opponent doesn't come soon, he'll not find me here. I can 
 wait but little longer. 'The Vulture' is taking up her slack cable/'
 
 :,IK. UARNKS OF NEW YORK. 
 
 The second, who has been looking anxiously down the Ajaccio- 
 road and has spied the two French officers, cries quickly. "That's 
 your man, isn't it ? " 
 
 " Yes," responded the other, and then hurriedly says, bowing 
 politely, " I'm much obliged to you, Mr. Barnes, of New York ; 
 you will excuse our not giving our names and asking you to for- 
 get our faces, for were this affair known end how it may it 
 would mean a court-martial for both of us." 
 
 " You can be sure I'll forget to-morrow I ever saw you ! Not 
 'nmplimentary, but satisfactory," laughs the Amei'ican. 
 
 The lieutenant shortly adds, " I shall remember my promise ; 
 vou have my word." Then the two Britons descend the stairs, 
 the midshipman remarking to his companion, soto roce, "That 
 American, Barnes, of New York, is a devilish queer bird ! " 
 
 As they disappear, the two men in French uniform are just en- 
 t ei-ing the inn ; but the dust cloud on the Bastia road is now not 
 t wo miles away. Circling into the air like a tropic water-spout, 
 it is coming as fast as tired horses can bring it. By the aid of his 
 neld-glass Barnes discovers, in this cloud, moving forms ; one a 
 remale figure, eager and impatient, advancing before the rest. 
 Something in its graceful pose tells him it is Marina. If he can 
 postpone her brother's meeting till she comes, no man with blood 
 in his body could fight a duel if that sister implored him to desist. 
 1'arnbs turns hurriedly so the man whose face tells him is the one 
 o whom he must address himself, but as he advances he hears 
 lim whisper to the erect military figure that strides at his side, 
 
 FJemember, Andre, it is ' a la mart/'" 
 
 4
 
 JUi. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A LA MORT ! 
 
 THE man to whom these ominous words are addressed, is one <>r 
 the officers of the French garrison at Ajaccio. He smiles a grim 
 smile and simply says, " I would not have come out with you had 
 I supposed you meant anything else, Paoli ; there is but one way 
 to destroy the shame of that brutal brand ; " glancing significant- 
 ly at a deep black discoloration on the young Corsican's face. 
 " Believe me, I have been in too many affairs before, not to brinir 
 any principal out of this one with honor ! " 
 
 And he says truly, Andre de Belloc is lately from the depart- 
 ment of Algeria, where a greater liscense exists in the custom of the 
 duello, than is permitted in other divisions of the army of France. 
 He wears on his breast medals for gallantry in the Franco-German 
 war, and the sanguinary street fights of the Parisian Commune, 
 but is most widely known for his determined conduct in several 
 desperate meetings forced upon him by his brother officers in that 
 portion of Africa to which France sends her best troops to gain 
 the practice of war. Like most other deadly men, Captain de 
 Belloc has a kindly disposition, and, until strife is absolutely 
 forced upon him, a very peaceable manner. 
 
 " Understand me!" he continues; "you place this matter 
 utterly and wholly in my hands. In this affair, Paoli, I am your 
 commanding officer ! " 
 
 "Entirely ! All I want is to get face to face] with the man 
 who placed this upon me and then ! " 
 
 The young Corsican makes a significant gesture, and his face 
 becomes deadly pale under all its sailor tan of sun and wind, bring- 
 ing the mark he touches slightly with his hand into vivid contrast 
 with his complexion. This is, like his sister's, one peculiar to the 
 blondes of the Latin race and found only in Castillians and Italians 
 of the purest race and blood, exquisitely fair in contrast to their dark, 
 flashing eyes ; in women, giving great beauty ; and in men, great 
 nobility of expression. The voice of the young man would be 
 almost that of Marina were it not full of suppressed bitterness. 
 He wears the French naval uniform of his rank, and looks taller 
 nd more dignified to Barnes than that gentleman's remembrance 
 of his appearance the night before ; but no man ever seems very 
 commanding immediately after recovering from a knock-down
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 21 
 
 blow. As he half hears, half guesses, this portion of their con- 
 versation, the American knows that he has a more difficult task 
 before him with the Corsican than he had supposed ; one in which 
 the chance of effecting his object is small if not wholly desperate. 
 However, he steps up to the two men and begs to speak to 
 Monsieur Antonio Paoli. 
 
 At his words the young man hesitates for a moment, and then 
 savs, " You must excuse me for a short time, sir ; after I have 
 seen those gentlemen down there I am at your service. At 
 present they claim my attention ! " He points to the Englishmen, 
 for he and de Belloc are now on the balcony of the inn, looking 
 down at their two opponents who are anxiously pacing the shingle 
 and glancing uneasily at their man-of-war, whose funnel is now 
 pouring out one solid mass of deep black smoke. 
 
 " If you knew my errand, I think you would give me a minute 
 before that other business." 
 
 At the American's first word, Andre de Belloc has turned 
 towards him ; while he is speaking the Frenchman is studying his 
 face ; he now says with military abruptness, " I have seen you 
 before, sir, you have been in Algeria ? '' 
 
 " Once ! Lion shooting !" replies Barnes. "And now I remember 
 you, Captain de Belloc ! " 
 
 ' Ah ! Is it not Monsieur Barnes, of New York ? For the 
 moment I had forgotten your face, but I always remember your 
 shot at the black lion ! It's lucky, Antonio, you have not to 
 face Mr. Barnes' pistol this morning ; but pardon me M. Antonio 
 Paoli, M. Barnes, of New York ! " 
 
 It is curious how appellations hang to men ; that " of New 
 York," by chance applied at first, had followed Barnes all over 
 Europe, until now half the untravelled foreigners who knew him, 
 imagined New York was a family estate of his ; and one or two 
 ladies at Monte Carlo and similar places had made desperate love 
 to him on account of his surpassingly fair inheritance, for they 
 had heard that New York was a grand and rich city 
 
 As the two young men bow, Mr. Barnes whispers, " Can't you 
 you give me one minute?" 
 
 De Belloc, catching this, says hastily, "Yes, one minute ; I shall 
 not want you, Antonio, until I have had a few words with those 
 gentlemen down there." 
 
 " Thanks ! very much ! " says Barnes, as the captain goes down 
 the stairs carrying in his hand a couple of cavalry sabres and a 
 pair of French duelling small-swords. 
 
 "You have a message for me from- -from whom?" says the 
 boy, for with his twenty-three years he is hardly yet a man ; but 
 as he asks, he looks as if even now he guessed whence the message
 
 J2 MR. DABNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 came, for the fire of the battle has left his eyes, and a softer light 
 is in them that makes them very beautiful. 
 
 " From one that you left a child, but who is now a woman : 
 whom but a night ago 1 saw waiting for your coming in the old 
 house of your family ; the fires of welcome for you blazing on the 
 hills around. If the Englishman offers any accommodation think 
 of her ; and, for her sake, accept it ; for this is from your sister ! " 
 says Barnes, pressing the laurel flowers of Marina, now faded and 
 dead, but even more fragrant in their death than in their life, 
 into his hand. Then he gives Antonio the message that she sent 
 in almost her words, and with a feeling that makes him eloquent, 
 for the thought of the girl and her love for her brother carried him 
 away from his every-day self. 
 
 " From my sister ! From Marina ! " gasps the boy, kissing the 
 flowers, while tears of affection and longing come into his eyes ! 
 ''For her sake yes ! " But as he passes his hand over his face 
 he touches the mark of the blow, the fire in his eyes burns up the 
 tears and his look becomes almost that of a savage. 
 
 " Remember your sister ? " pleads Barnes. 
 
 " I will remember my sister ; for she would not wish to see me 
 more if I came back to her polluted by that brute's hand." 
 
 Barnes is about to speak again, but the voice of Andre" de Belloc 
 comes from below, " Quick, Antonio ! Your opponent's ship is 
 about to sail, and time presses ! " 
 
 The young man starts. " To think that I could linger with 
 that man so near me ! " he mutters, and then says hastily, " When 
 this is over I'll thank you for being my sister's messenger. Have 
 no fear for me, Marina's flowers shall be my talisman ! He places 
 them in his breast very tenderly, but goes down to the beach, 
 carrying in his face the look of a man who has an insult to avenge 
 and who means to avenge it. 
 
 Barnes turns his eyes towards the Bastia road the dust cloud 
 is still a mile away it will be five minutes before the sister comes. 
 A little time, but on it hangs her brother's fate. 
 
 Mr. Barnes slowly follows the young man half down the wooden 
 stairs ; and, from a little platform, watches the affair that now 
 moves to a climax on the beach below. The scene, in contrast to 
 the action on it, is calm and placid, and lighted by the rising sun, 
 now high enough to give it all the mellow colors that make so 
 much of the beauty in a southern picture. To the left, the quiet 
 town but half awakened to its lazy tropic day, lies white and 
 peaceful in its groves of olive and orange and little hillside vine- 
 yards. In front of it, a few light-rigged craft of the Mediterranean 
 sit sluggish in the harbour ; a little farther from the shore, the 
 gun-boat rests upon the water ; her hull half obscured by a mass of 
 smoke.
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 23 
 
 Opposite, the red granite rocks of Les Isles Encarnadine rise 
 upright from the sea, that from their base spreads across in one 
 vast mass of deep blue water without a ripple to make it white, 
 or sea-gull's wing to ruffle its surface, straight to the little beach 
 of shingle that, outlined by two small rocky points, makes the 
 arena upon which the four men stand to arbitrate a dispute of 
 this generation, by the sanguinary code of a darker and more 
 cruel age. The two seconds are in conference in the center, each 
 with his principal a few paces in his rear. 
 
 The English lieutenant is abstractedly picking up pebbles and 
 throwing them into the water, keeping an ear, however, on his 
 representative's negotiations ; apparently relying on Mr. Barnes 1 
 assurance, he does not expect the affair will end very seriously. 
 The young Corsican, on the contrary, stands erect, watching im- 
 patiently Andre de Belloc, and only anxious to face the English- 
 man, upon whom his eye, whenever it rests, glares with passionate 
 anger. 
 
 Old Mateo, who has during the proceeding events been engaged 
 in hanging out linen to dry upon the cacti and orange trees of his 
 garden, now comes down and gazing intently over Barnes' shoulder 
 whispers to him, "Those English are queer people ; that one there 
 doss not appear to hate ; but the Corsican Diavolo. If the other 
 had a hundred lives they would not be enough to make him 
 happy !" 
 
 As he notes this appearance in the men, Barnes himself begins 
 to have an idea that his mediation has been a mistake. The 
 next minute, as the affair develops, he begins to see how fatal has 
 been his error. 
 
 The first words that come up to him are from Antonio's second. 
 
 " I have not had the pleasure of hearing your name as yet, 
 Monsieur; permit me to again introduce myself as Andre* de 
 Belloc, Captain in the Chasseurs d' Afrique, Army of France." 
 
 "I decline to give my name, or that of my principal, in 
 return!" says the English midshipman. " For this reason : the 
 custom of your army does not forbid duelling; the British 
 Admiralty does. If this gets out we risk a court-martial, you 
 don't ! " 
 
 The Frenchman starts angrily at this most uncompromising 
 declaration, but recovering himself, he says haughtily, " All the 
 same, you could have trusted your name to me with perfect 
 safety ; your uniform proves you a gentleman " (this with a slight 
 sneer). " so I shall not stand upon strict etiquette, and withdraw 
 my man." 
 
 His face is sterner than it was before the Englishman's 
 unlucky speech. Had it not contained an insinuation that, in
 
 24 MR. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 
 
 case of investigation, his name was not safe in de Belloc's know- 
 ledge and honor, that gentleman might have been in kinder mood, 
 and a different termination been made to the affair. 
 
 " And now to the business in hand," says the French officer. 
 " My friend, who has placed his honor in my charge, will meet 
 yours either with small-swords or cavalry sabres ; I have brought 
 them with me in pairs of equal length, weight and design ; the 
 small-swords are the weapons of the civilian, the sabres," de 
 Belloc takes one of them in his hand and looks at it kindly " are 
 the weapons of the soldier. Which do you choose ? " 
 
 " Neither, if you please : I know too much for that. You don't 
 get any advantage of me in that way. I'm no innocent, to let my 
 man, who doesn't fence, be chopped to pieces by your man, who 
 does; and so I've brought these two good British barkers that'll 
 do the business just as well as any fancy weapons !" and tin- 
 English middy, with a smile at his own far-sightedness, produces 
 the two ships' pistols. 
 
 At this unfortunate speech the cigarette he has been carefully 
 rolling tears in Barnes' hands. He could asssult the man for 
 making it ; for though he was doing no more than his duty in pro 
 tecting the rights and safety of his principal, if safety there could be 
 in such an affair, still he was doing itwithso little tact anddiscretion 
 that every word he said contained an implied unfairness on tin- 
 part of de Belloc, that jarred each nerve in that punctilio^ 
 Frenchman's body. 
 
 "If that beggar keeps on in that strain," says Barnes i 
 Mateo, "in another minute the two seconds '11 be fighting them 
 selves." Here he pulls out his tobacco-pouch, and begins to 
 manufacture carefully another cigarette. This devotion of Barnes 
 to the smoking habit, implies no lack of interest in the affair he 
 watches ; had he been about to stand before the Englishman's 
 pistol himself, he would have still rolled and smoked cigarettes. 
 
 Indeed, this remark of the American had nearly become the 
 truth ; for at one time during the sailor's address, de Belloc has 
 been about to angrily reply, but checking himself, he bites his 
 lip and murmers savagely, " Apres f " These insinuations made 
 him bitter, and probably produced the astounding proposition IT- 
 afterwards advanced. 
 
 However, he now merely remarks that " Swords, in Europp ; 
 are considered the proper thing in settling disputes among gentle 
 men," and that he had supposed an English officer would under 
 stand the use of the weapon he carried at his side when on duty. 
 
 "But my friend is the challenged party," answers the English- 
 man ; " and though I don't know much about these affairs, still I 
 know that we have the right to choose the tools: as such I demam?
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 2;> 
 
 pistols. Besides, we can't stay here over five minutes now ; and 
 the only tiling that can decide our business in that time is what I 
 insist on using ! " 
 
 " Very well, Monsieur, I waive my proposition ; we'll use your 
 pistols ; " remarks Captain de Belloc, examining the weapons the 
 Englishman offers to him. 
 
 After an inspection he continues, " These do not seem arms of 
 precision and may not carry as sighted. Has your friend " he 
 indicates the lieutenant by a move of his head "ever used these 
 bef ore ? " 
 
 "Not that I know of !" says the second ; and, turning to his 
 principal he asks, " Have you ever fired these barkers ? " 
 
 " Never in my life ! " is the unhesitating reply. 
 
 " That is sufficient we will use your weapons, Monsieur ' " 
 Whereupon the two seconds begin to carefully load the pistols, 
 the young Englishman watching them carelessly and the Corsican 
 doing the same with more eagerness. On de Belloc's picking up 
 the sabre, Antonio had removed his uniform coat, and since that 
 time has been standing in his shirt and trowsers, a model of youth- 
 ful grace. On seeing them load the pistols he immediately replaces 
 it, and buttoning it up tight to the throat, leaves no white spot to 
 attract his opponent's aim, save where Marina's laurel flowers 
 show upon his breast. 
 
 Old Mateo, who, though excited at the thought of blood, never 
 forgets business, now suddenly whispers to Barnes, " If one of those 
 men are wounded, I have a nice bed in my inn, free from vermin 
 and dirt. Couldn't you have him brought here 1 My charges 
 shall be for the Englishman', little ; and for the Corsican, nothing. 
 I heard you call him Paoli, and any one would do something for 
 that name. Please do what you can to help an old inn-keeper ; it 
 will be better than taking a bleeding man to the city for the sur- 
 geon to see ! " 
 
 At these last words Barnes suddenly starts, whistles medita- 
 tively for a moment, and then drops his cigarette, for now he sees 
 a way to postpone ; which, under the peculiar circumstances, 
 means ending the whole matter. 
 
 " Thank you, Mateo ! " he cries. " You've a level head on your 
 old body ! " and goes quickly down to the beach. 
 
 The pistols have just been loaded, and de Belloc has chosen his 
 weapon as Barnes approaches the men. 
 
 " You must excuse an outsider speaking at such a moment, but 
 outsiders generally see most of the game, and I do this in the name 
 of common humanity. You've forgotten something ; there's no 
 surgeon upon the ground ! " 
 
 The Frenchman looks suddenly about " You are right, M.
 
 26 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 Barnes," he says ; " I had until now presumed that these gentle- 
 men had brought their ship's doctor with them." 
 
 " Why, we had counted on your regimental saw-bones ! " replies 
 the English midshipman. 
 
 " He would have been here, but he has lately joined us ; and 
 not being acclimated, he was suddenly struck down this morning 
 by the malarial fever common to this island ! " 
 
 " Our surgeon couldn't leave the ship on the morning of our 
 sailing ; to have pressed the matter might have given our captain 
 a hint of our business ; and then you'd have whistled for us in 
 vain." 
 
 At this both seconds go to their principals, and after a moment s 
 conference with Antonio, the captain turns and says, " The gentle- 
 man I represent still demands that the affair shall go on." 
 
 " A surgeon does not count for much when it is a la mort, as 
 this must be ! " interrupts the young Corsican, with a laugh that has 
 a cruel ring. 
 
 His English antagonist had been on the point of speaking ; but 
 at these words he checks himself. The second answers for him. 
 
 " All right, it's as fair for one as the other ; what's a French- 
 man's chance is an Englishman's chance ; surgeon or no surgeon, 
 we'll fight it out ! So now we'll toss for corners as quickly as you 
 please, for that ship is hoisting in her side-ladders and when she 
 sails we must be on the quarter-deck ! Give me your lucky 
 penny," he continues, turning to the lieutenant, " I'll win the 
 shadiest side for you." 
 
 The latter silently takes from his vest-pocket a silver English 
 crown piece and hands it to his second. A moment after the toss 
 is made and the Englishman wins. The distance is settled at 
 twelve paces, the standing points marked on the shingle by a couple 
 of small white stones. 
 
 The two seconds turned to their principals to place them in posi- 
 tion and give them their weapons. As they do so, the Engli It 
 sailor gives back to his principal the coin, saying, "Here's your 
 lucky penny ; it's won you the place with the least sun in your 
 eyes, that's something." The English lieutenant pockets the coin, 
 but as he does this whispers hurriedly to his comrade, and the 
 midshipman, after a few words of apparent dissent, comes again 
 to the center and calling de Belloc to him, says in a tone signifi- 
 cantly careless, " By the bye, I forgot to state that my 'nan, before 
 this affair goes any further, wishes to apologize ! " 
 
 ' To apologize ? " echoes de Belloc in surprise. 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Frenchman, he desires me to say for him that he's 
 sorry he knocked that young man down, blackened his eye and 
 spoiled his beautiful features ! " The very nonchalance of the
 
 Mn. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 27 
 
 Englishman's tone is almost an insult ; in fact, as he speaks, 
 Barnes knows that he wishes to make it one, though compelled by 
 his principal to say the words. 
 
 " " Very well ! says de Belloc after a short, gloomy pause, during 
 which his face changes from rage to a sneering smile. "You have 
 made your proposition ! Now hear mine ! " his voice coming from 
 him very slowly but high and clear as a bugle call. " The gentle- 
 man you represent wishes to apologize ! Then let him come here 
 and stand beside me and passively, on his face, receive from my 
 friend the same brutal blow he placed upon his ; and after he has 
 beaten him, the man I speak for, shall receive his amend and not 
 before ! " 
 
 A dead silence falls upon the group as they listen to this most 
 atrocious demand it lasts but an instant then the English bull- 
 dog has clenched his fist as if he were about to strike de Belloc. 
 
 But he is put aside, and the English gentleman, his principal, 
 stands in his place confronting the Frenchman. As he has heard 
 the monstrous indignity proposed for him, a deep flush of rage and 
 shame has rushed over his face ; but now every drop of blood has 
 left it, and he stands pale as one who dies of the cobra bite which 
 turns the blood to water ; and looks as deadly as that fatal snake, 
 as he says very quietly, " It may be the custom among French- 
 men to be beaten like curs ; but we English have not as yet 
 acquired the habit. You, sir," (turning to the Corsican) " wish 
 my life you shall have your chance at it but I shall also shoot 
 to kill ! " 
 
 To this Paoli maks no direct reply, but says hoarsely to de 
 Belloc, " Give me the pistol ! " and his eyes still answer to the 
 Englishman. u a la mort ! " 
 
 Had not Barnes induced the latter to apologize he would not 
 have received the insulting proposition from de Belloc, which 
 changed him from a man only anxious to defend his own life, into 
 one thirsting for his opponent's. But Barnes' efforts have intro- 
 duced a still more dangerous factor to Marina's brother into the 
 meeting ; for now the young Englishman comes to him and in an 
 undertone says, " I've kept one promise, you see with what result ; 
 common sense must tell you I can't keep the other that gentle- 
 man standing opposite me says it is ' a la mort / ' I shall do my 
 best make it so. When you taught me how to miss my man, you 
 a/cs-o showed me how to hit him. Aim two feet to the right and the 
 bullet will go plump through him ; at twelve paces, I believe you 
 said. Many thanks ! " and he walks to this tiring point. 
 
 Without the knowledge born of Barnes' experiments with the 
 pistols, Marina's brother would have been comparatively safe 
 
 Half a second after, the young Englishman, who cannot even in
 
 28 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 this desperate moment of his life forget his British habit of fair- 
 ness, speaks again, this time to Monsieur de Belloc and aloud. 
 
 " I'll take no undue advantage in this affair. Tell your man, 
 that Mr. Barnes a few minutes since sighted these pistols ; that 
 they both shoot at our distance about two feet to the left of where 
 they are pointed ; " and then he mutters hoarsely to himself, i( My 
 mother ! " for he knows that his words have put great addition tx> 
 the peril that is on him ; and he has still a mother living in Eng- 
 land, and is thinking that, perchance, she will never see him again 
 in life. Yet with that name upon his lips he is still ready to kill. 
 
 At the Englishman's generous words, his second mutters to him- 
 self, " The chivalric fool he's given away the trick of the wea- 
 pons ! " 
 
 The French captain looks at Barnes for confirmation, for it is 
 hard to believe that any man could so put peril on himself for an 
 idea. 
 
 But the American simply says, " It is gospel truth ! I sighted 
 those two pistols, and the one with the name on the butt shoots 
 almost two feet to the left of the point it is held at ; the other a 
 little less about one foot nine inches. You know my skill with 
 the weapon. I pledge my honor, de Belloc, that I am correct. 
 And now that I've made everything as fair and as dangerous for 
 one as for the other, I hope you'll kick me for a meddling fool ! " 
 Here. Mr. Barnes thinks he hears a sound of horses' hoofs in the 
 far distance, and remembering Marina, runs up the stairs cursing 
 himself for the danger his experiment has placed upon these two 
 men's lives. 
 
 A moment after, the French officer taking a step towards the 
 English lieutenant, bows and says, " Had I known you before, I 
 should not have made that proposition that gave you pain ; but 
 now gives me greater, for you are not only a brave but a true man. 
 I salute you, sir ! " And he does so in the simple manner o*> a sol- 
 dier who desires to honor a comrade. Then turning to the young 
 Corsican, he remarks, " I advise you, Paoli, to remember Mr. 
 Barnes' advice ; he knows more about pistol shooting than any 
 man I ever saw," and with that passes to his station to give the 
 signal to fire. 
 
 From the balcony of the inn, through Barnes' field glass, Marina 
 can be seen coming, but her horse is tired and lame. Two men 
 are following her through the dust. One is her foster-father old 
 Tomasso ; the other, Count Musso Danella. She rides as if she 
 thought she was riding for her brother's life, which can be to her, 
 at best, a guess, for Barnes' hurried note to Danella only men- 
 tioned that her presence here might save Antonio from committing 
 folly.
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 29 
 
 She is still half a mile away and will be nay, is too late ; for 
 at that instant from below come the sharp reports that say the 
 men have fired. 
 
 The two pistols speak, almost together; the sound from the 
 Corsican's a trifle the first. As the smoke rolls away Antonio is 
 standing, though he seems to have placed all the weight of his 
 body upon his left leg. The Englishman staggers and would fall, 
 but his second, running to him supports him, and says, " Where 
 is it, old fellow 1 Are you much hurt?" 
 
 To which the other gasps "It's here in my side;" pressed 
 his hand upon the spot, groans, then looks surprised and then re- 
 lieved, as he takes from his vest-pocket his lucky silver crown with 
 the pistol bullet flattened against and imbedded in it. 
 
 " How do you feel now *? " says Barnes, who has hurried to him 
 to do what could be done without instruments ; for though not a 
 practicing surgeon and dignified by a diploma, everything that 
 the American did he did thoroughly, and he was a better doctor 
 than many who wrote M.D. after their names. 
 
 " A good deal better now, thanks to my lucky penny ! " replies 
 the Englishman, looking at the coin and pocketing it with afl'ec- 
 tion. " I'll not forget it in a hurry ! " Which was true, for its 
 impression made his ribs sore for many a day after. 
 
 " Yes, I hardly think you'll die just at present" but Barnes 
 is interrupted by the voice of de Belloc, which comes cool as ice 
 
 " Under these circumstances my principal demands another 
 shot ! " 
 
 " Which at present I haven't time to give him !" 
 
 " Why not ? You are not disabled, and my principal can 
 stand ? " 
 
 This is the first intimation that the Corsican is wounded. 
 
 The English officer takes one look to seaward, then speaks 
 straight at de Belloc, his voice ringing out as if on his quarter- 
 deck. " That gun-boat is now moving ahead to break ground with 
 her anchor ; in a moment she will sail for Alexandria to go into 
 action. When that ship goes under the fire of the Egyptian guns 
 we must be upon her quarter-deck ! " The other has already run 
 down to the'v boat to cast it off from the shore." 
 
 " There is time yet ! " 
 
 " There is too little now ! You are a French officer, don't 
 stand between an English one and his duty ! " 
 
 But the young Corsican now speaks with almost alarming faint- 
 ness, " This pistol's broken and I can stand no more !" With 
 that he sinks down, sitting on a neighboring rock; 
 
 The Englishman looks at him and exclaims, '"' Hit in the leg ? 
 Eh 1 I'm glad it's no worse, and if I come back from Egypt and 
 you insist "
 
 30 MK. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 But he says no more, for now a stream or tire shoots out of tlo 
 smoke that hangs about the distant snip and the sound her 
 farewpll gun comes over the water. 
 
 The lieutenant springs to the boat crying with an anxious 
 voice, " Five guineas, men, when you're alongside of that ship ! 
 If we miss her. it's our ruin and disgrace ! " 
 
 The Corsican fishermen bend to their ears, as he shakes the 
 British gold in their faces with one hand and steers with the other, 
 while his second throws oft' his coat and takes an extra oar as the 
 boat darts from the land to cut off the steamer, whose propeller is 
 already moving. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 DEAD ! 
 
 THE extreme faintness of Paoli's voice had caught Barnes' at- 
 tention the moment that he spoke ; it was in such noticeable con- 
 trast to its power immediately before the duel. He springs to 
 him and feels his pulse ; for, with a physician's instinct, he knows 
 but one thing could produce so marked a change in so short a 
 time. As he does so, his color becomes as pale as that of the young 
 Corsican's himself, who now reclines against the cliff at his back, 
 and whose head droops as if he had no longer the strength to hold 
 it upright. 
 
 In an instant, Barnes, with his knife, has cut away from his 
 patient's leg the blue naval trousers that have already boconie a 
 deep crimson purple about the wound, which is nearly as high up 
 as the young man's hip. Using his finger as a probe he traces the 
 bullet. As he feels its path he mutters to himself a low curse ; 
 and, at the same time, is conscious of thinking with what supreme 
 will this man must have hated ; to have stood, for even a short 
 minute, waiting for the hope of a second shot, when the first had 
 done him such an injury. For a moment he cannot understand 
 how the bullet has taken its peculiar course ; but', as he sees the 
 mutilated pistol that lies by the man's side, he comprehends what 
 has produced the extraordinary wound he has discovered. 
 
 " Quick ! " he cries to old Mateo, " bring me the strongest 
 spirits, brandy, rum, anything you have also some water ! Move 
 like lightning ! " Then he folds his coat and makes a pillow for 
 the young Corsican's head, lays him gently on his back and whis- 
 pers to him tenderly " Do you have any pain ? Don't exert
 
 MR. BARNES OF XEW YORK. 31 
 
 yourself to speak aloud, my ears are good ! " Receiving the boy's 
 answer, he rises and comes to de Belloc who has been looking on 
 with some interest at Barnes' quick movements, and taking him 
 aside says hurriedly but decidedly, " I am a surgeon in all but a 
 diploma, which I did not care to take ! " for he wishes the soldier 
 to know that what he is about to tell him is as absolute truth as 
 if it came from some celebrated physician. 
 
 " Then, you can tell me which way will be the best to move him 
 to the city by boat or by carriage ] " 
 
 " By neither ! he must stay here ! " 
 
 " Stay here ? Till when ? " 
 
 "Till all is over !" 
 
 The military man stares in unbelief at the civilian and says, 
 shortly, " Pish ! He's not going to die. I've seen hundreds 
 wounded in the same place get well ! " 
 
 " But not so wounded ! Don't look incredulous. Do T look as 
 if / doubted ? " and there are tears in Barnes' eyes, and in his 
 voice, too, now for that matter 
 
 And the grim soldier, who is better in the field than in the 
 hospital, gazes at him and knows that his companion believes with 
 all his heart what he says with his tongue. 
 
 " But his wound is in the leg ! " still dissents de Beiloc who 
 won't believe if possible to doubt. 
 
 " The ball entered his leg ; but Antonio had fired a little the 
 first, and his pistol being lowered, the bullet struck the barrel and 
 glanced up into his body, coursing along the external iliac artery 
 and tearing it to pieces. On my honor as a man, he'll bleed to 
 death, perhaps in five minutes." 
 
 " And you can do nothing ? " 
 
 " Even with instruments I could not save him the artery is 
 so destroyed ! Now will you tell him or shall I ? " 
 
 " You ? " says de Belloc, " for I might have received the Eng- 
 lishman's apology and this would not have happened. I feel as if 
 his death was upon me ! " He goes sadly to the boy upon whose 
 forehead death has already placed his hand and made it white, 
 and kisses him and says, " Farewell ! " then turns away and looks 
 out on the water, though he can hardly see for the moment his 
 eyes are dim with sorrow. 
 
 Kicking the pistol away with his foot, Barnes places himself 
 beside the now almost helpless sufferer ; takes his head upon his 
 lap, moistens his forehead with the spirits Mateo has brought, and 
 pours water down his throat ; for the boy complains of thirst. 
 Then bending down to him he whispers that he is to die ! 
 
 And the dying murmurs back to him, " I have guessed that I 
 would not live, ever since his bullet struck me. That was the
 
 32 MR. BAUNKS OF NK\V YOKK. 
 
 reason I tried to stand up for another shot I wished to kill him, 
 that he might pass away with me, and I might leave no vengeance 
 to my sister and my kin but it always comes to us in the third 
 generation." 
 
 "\V hat comes ?" whispers Barnes, half recollecting the words of 
 Marina, 
 
 " The Vendetta ! I have left my sister one ! " and then he 
 sighs, and after a gasp or two continues " I had sooner she for- 
 got me than that the memory of my death destroyed her life." 
 His words are very faint now. The American suddenly thinks if 
 he can perhaps compress and hold the artery with his hand so as 
 to partially stop that fearful flow of blood, he may keep life in him 
 till his sister comes. But as he stoops down to do so, there is a noise 
 of horses, and of people dismounting in haste, and the sound of a 
 voice in the distance, curiously like the one murmuring in his ear, 
 now that it is subdued and sad. 
 
 Whether in our last moment upon earth some occult power 
 from the world we are to enter, comes to us and gives us faculty to 
 see and know things that in the flesh would not be possible, cannot 
 be known, for none return to tell us ; but, as Barnes hears, the 
 dying boy seems to see through the cliffs of solid rock and the 
 white walls of the little inn and the orange grove that stands be- 
 tween him and the one he loves, for he murmurs, " My sister ! 
 She is there I see her ! " and he talks to himself, describing 
 her dress, and kisses her flowers and smiles, and then struggling to 
 to his feet gives one last and great cry of welcome " MARINA ! " 
 and falls backward on the beach. 
 
 And from behind the inn comes her voice in happy return, 
 " Antonia ! My brother ! I am here !" But as she speaks, death 
 comes and takes the boy, leaving the smile of welcome on his face. 
 
 De Belloc with a hoarse voice, after a muttered prayer or curse, 
 says : " My God. It is his sister ! " and takes up the pistol to 
 hide it from her. As he does so, she comes on the balcony above, 
 turns with a little laugh to Danella and Tomasso who follow her, 
 crying merrily, " He is here ! you heard his voice ! " while she 
 looks eagerly about for him. 
 
 From the place where Marina stands she cannot see the body 
 on the beach below, for a projecting ledge of rocks ; and Barnes 
 hardly knowing what he does covers with his handkerchief the 
 face of her dead brother. But as he does so she sees the Ameri- 
 can's head and recognizing, waves her hand gaily to him, then 
 laughs and calls to him, " He's down there, I suppose ! " and 
 running to the stairs, in that moment of joy, forgetful of the 
 fatigue of her long night and morning ride, she comes down, to 
 view the sight the passions of men have prepared for her,
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 33 
 
 As she descends, there is no brighter or fairer picture than this 
 girl. The gay colors of her dress for she now wears the native 
 costume of her country embellish and develop the lithe grace 
 and agile beauty of her form. Her face is flushed with expecta- 
 tion, and though anxious, there is in her eyes a flash of hope and 
 love that makes them scintillate with happiness. 
 
 She is utterly unconscious of what is before her, for she laughs 
 again, and says, " Your note frightened us ; but I've heard his 
 voice so he must be well where is he ? My brother ? " 
 
 Neither of the men attempt to answer her. The Captain still 
 looks at the sea, playing unconsciously with the broken pistol he 
 has taken in his hand. The American forces himself to turn to 
 her. As he looks, she sees for the first time the silent form upon 
 the shingle, and gazing at it for a moment, she begins to pant 
 and gasp, for she knows the uniform her brother wears. 
 
 " Who is he ? What is that ? Can you not speak ? " Unable 
 to bear the suspense she takes a step towards the figure, and 
 says, " Let me see ! " Then cries, " Holy Virgin ! You Jare 
 afraid ? " for Barnes' hand in pity is put out to stop her. But 
 struggling with him, she pulls away the handkerchief, and sees 
 her dead brother's face. 
 
 Barnes had hoped that she would faint, but at first she does 
 not seem to understand, and cries, " He called to me Marina ! a 
 cry of welcome ! This cannot be ! " Then stooping down she 
 whispers his name ; falls upon his face and kisses it, and fondles 
 it as brutes do their dead young, thinking to pet them back to 
 life When she sees he does not answer or return her caresses, 
 her hand goes straight to his heart and feels for the life that is gone 
 and then she gives a long gasping moan of agony, for the last 
 she believes and slowly says, " You have brought me here for 
 this?" and shudders and covers her face with her hands, and 
 sways, and is about to fall. But suddenly another thought comes 
 to her ; she becomes a different being ; her eyes begin to flash 
 and scintillate, she stands erect again and cries, " Show me who 
 has killed him ! " and seeing the Frenchman standing with the 
 broken pistol in his hand " Ah ! it was you ! " and comes 
 toward him with a look in her eyes that makes him shudder. 
 
 Andre de Belloc in his time has faced many a deadly fire and 
 -een many a desperate deed done both [in coolness and in anger, 
 lint he turns pale, as he sees the insanity of rage that glitters in 
 die girl's face ; though he simply answers, " No ! "fand she believes 
 him, and asks, " Who has done this thing 1 You dared not tell 
 me of my brother's death ! tell me who has killed him ! " 
 
 De Belloc, pointing to the water, says, " An officer on board 
 iii.it ship now leaving Corsica ! "
 
 34 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 Barnes follows his hand and sees the English gun-boat has taken 
 up the men who pursued it, and is now well under way down the 
 harbor. 
 
 The girl's eyes rest upon the man-of-war that is now fast putting 
 its hull below the horizon, and linger upon it as if she would draw 
 the great ship back to her by the very power of her will. Then 
 she suddenly cries, " The flag is English ! I shall find him ! I 
 will repay ! I am a Corsican ! " and begins to mutter wildly to 
 herself. 
 
 Musso Danella and old Tomasso, who have stood behind her 
 while she is doing this, for the affair has lasted but a minute, 
 look gloomily at her ; perhaps a slight smile of some cherished 
 hope lighting Danella's face as he gazes at her lovliness, for the 
 girl is even more beautiful in her passion than she was before. 
 
 Then she speaks aloud again, and now looks like the priestess 
 of some heathen shrine that savages have dedicated to the god 
 of Hate, " No one shall reproach me with letting my brother's 
 murderer live 1 No one shall say the Rimbecco to me ! I will 
 avenge, for I have sworn a Vendetta I " 
 
 At this the old Corsican, her foster-father, kneeling reverently 
 at her feet, says in his hate, *' Responde f" 
 
 And the girl looking down at the old man, sees her brother's 
 corpse and moans " It will not bring him back to me ! " and 
 cries " Antonio ! " with a scream that cannot be described ; then 
 sinks senseless as her brother upon whose clay she falls. 
 
 A few weeks afterward the English gun-boat "Sealark" took 
 part in the bombardment of Alexandria, and under the Egyptiar 
 guns lost some officers and men.
 
 BOOK II. 
 AN EPISODE OF THE PARIS SALON. 
 
 CHAPTER v. 
 
 A CURIOUS PICTURE. 
 
 THE Paris Salon of the year succeeding the one made memor- 
 able by the occupation of Egypt by the British forces, was a fair 
 average of those brilliant displays of art that annually attract so 
 many who t pretencl to or do really admire the modern French 
 school of painting and sculpture. Nearly everybody that was in 
 Paris at the time, visited it ; and as Paris was very full of people 
 one morning early in the May of that year, consequently the ex- 
 hibition had more than the usual heterogeneous mass of cosmo- 
 polites who come from the four quarters of the globe to worship 
 at the shrine of pleasure in that gay capital of the modern world. 
 
 In one of the larger rooms of the Salon, a mass of people are 
 striving to see one of the pictures of the season. French, Eng- 
 lish, Italians, Americans, Austrians, Germans, nearly every na- 
 tionality of the world are grouped together in the crowd, while 
 from its depths pours out a confused variety of tongues, accents, 
 dialects and languages that, massed together, make a lunacy of 
 idea and babel of sound. 
 
 " Magnifique \ " 
 ' Disappointing ! " 
 ! Splendida ! " 
 
 It will get a rnedal ! " 
 
 ' Ich halte nicht viel davon ! " 
 
 Mon Dieu 1 Quellefoule ! " 
 
 I prefer Gerdme ! " 
 
 ; This 'orrid jam is worse than Piccadilly !" 
 
 ' It reminds me of 'la Cigale ! ' " 
 
 ' Je-rue-sa-^em / It looks like Sally Spotts in swimming !" 
 This last comes from a cattle king from Kansas, who makes the 
 remark on the edge of the crowd, but now excitedly forces his 
 way towards the picture ; and as he has the form of a Goliath and 
 strength of a Samson, Mr. Barnes, who has been most of the past
 
 36 Mli. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 year in the United States, but has run over to Europe to avoid 
 the American summer, concludes he is a good man to do the push- 
 ing and squeezing for him, and quietly drops into his wake. 
 
 " Cracky ! It is Sally Spotts ! " repeats the Westerner. 
 
 And he is right ; the belle of an Ohio village has wandered to 
 Paris and is now as celebrated for her beauty, though not, alas, 
 for her virtue, in this capital of nations, as she once was as Sally 
 Spotts in her rural American home. Her old father and mother 
 mourn her as dead, and are happier than if they knew that the 
 little innocent child that knelt and prayed with them each night, 
 before sleeping, lived as " La Belle Blackwood," that celebrity of 
 the demi-monde, whose eccentricities they have read of and shud- 
 dered at, and whose beauty makes so much of the attraction of 
 this famous picture, for which she has consented to be the model. 
 
 Stimulated by this discovery, the Western giant makes a 
 determined attempt for a nearer view, and crushes into the crowd 
 reckless of the effects of his monstrous extremities that are clothed 
 in boots wrinkled in tremendous valleys and mountains of polished 
 patent leather. 
 
 As he does so, a miserable " Sacre / " of anguish comes from a 
 little Frenchman whom he crushes ; a groan or two from an Ital- 
 ian Art critic ; and a " Be careful, car'nt you, now ! oh Lord ! 
 my boots ! " from an American dude, who, even in his agony does 
 not forget his beloved English accent and pointed varnished 
 gaiters. 
 
 The misfortunes of others are generally amusing to a looker on, 
 and Mr. Barnes rather laughs at the recklessness of his giant 
 advance guard ; but now the smile leaves his face and he glares in 
 indignant rage at the creature whose bulk has so far made his 
 path, even in that crush, an easy one ; for he has just heard little 
 subdued feminine shrieks, and a pathetic murmur in the softest 
 English voice " Oh ! Mrs. Vavassour ! He has trod on them 
 again ! " 
 
 " What ' twice ? " this from a rather buxom English matron 
 beside the complaining beauty. 
 
 " Yes ! no ! oh ! That's the third time now ! I sha'nt 
 be able to walk ! And oh mercy ! the brute's torn niy new 
 dress ! " this last in the voice of abject despair. 
 
 Looking a little ahead he sees what is to him, the picture of the 
 season. An English girl, whose lovely eyes beam with righteous 
 anger, through their tears of pain, at the ruthless American 
 vandal ; as she whispers to her companion, " I could have forgiven 
 him the assault on my feet, but on my dress never ! " and with 
 that pouts a little laugh that makes Barnes think a moue in some 
 women is the most beautiful thing in nature.
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 37 
 
 The girl draws a little out of the press ; and, stooping down to 
 inspect the damage done to her toilet, assumes so graceful an atti- 
 tude as she draws her skirt about her, outlining her exquisite 
 figure, that her admirer forgets his indignation for the vandal, in 
 his interest for the Niobe, whose tears have now passed into 
 smile. The position the girl takes bending down slightly so as 
 to examine more closely the damage wrought to her costume as 
 she raised her skirts a little for examination, displaying a perfect 
 foot admirably booted permits Mr. Barnes to take a long and 
 strong glance at her, without her seeing the interest with which 
 she is regarded. The lady with her is also studying the dress, 
 which gives him an opportunity for inspection without appearing 
 impertinent, of which he takes full advantage ; consequently when 
 the young lady raises her eyes again to the general world, she has 
 !)pen as well looked over and criticised as any picture in the room ; 
 and, if Barnes were the committee, would receive the gold medal 
 of the year. She is about twenty this he guesses and is one of 
 those most lovely things in the world a thoroughly pretty, re- 
 Hned and gentle English girl, there is no guess about the last. 
 
 Her head is beautiful by a great mass of golden hair, that is 
 natural in both color, and substance ; underneath this is a grand 
 pair of honest blue eyes that are generally quite soft to those she 
 loves ; but, when she chooses, can flash on those she hates, or 
 shine very coldly on those she despises. Her whole face, though 
 by no means frivolous, has enough piquant levity about it so show 
 that her life so far has been thoroughly happy, and therefore 
 thoroughly good. 
 
 Her face has no traces of past passion but immense possibili- 
 ties for future love. At present she is a beautiful girl not- 
 simple enough to think their isn't plenty of sin and evil in the 
 world, but too pure not to despise what portion of it is thrust 
 before her. 
 
 While inspecting her, Barnes finds himself wondering if the 
 girl has a pretty name the next instant he hears it. 
 
 " Enid," says the older lady, " is the disaster to your dress bad 
 enough to make you return to the hotel ? " 
 
 " No-o " (reflectively) " only a gather gone ; and in the hun- 
 dred this gown has, one won't be missed ! Besides, I want to show 
 you that curious picture ; and to-day is my last chance ! " 
 
 "That isn't the one, I hope?" says her companion. 
 
 " No ! I detest such paintings, and the publicity they gave a 
 certain class of women like ' La Belle Blackwood ! ' " 
 
 " Oh, Enid ! you shouldn't talk of such people," says the 
 matron. 
 
 " Why not ? they exist, don't they ? I'm_not blind I have ears.
 
 38 ME. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 
 
 I can't ignore that picture, and say it isn't there against that wa, 1 ! ; 
 but though I may not admire the art that stoops to dignify such 
 women and make heroines of them, I can't say I despise the 
 woman in the picture so much as I do that man there, who is talk- 
 ing about her ! " She indicates, by her glance, the Cattle King, 
 who is eagerly asking the address of " La Belle Blackwood," and 
 telling the man nearest to him " That he'll look her up ; he's an 
 old friend of her family's, he is and he'll spend the price of a 
 thousand steers to give her a high time he's in Paris for pleasure, 
 he is ; this is his week off ; Mrs. Ruggles is in London ! " 
 
 Barnes knows the queen of the demi-monde, and as he hears 
 the English girl's remark he feels ashamed, a moment after, when 
 the cattle magnate, who has found his French rather unintellig- 
 ible to those near him, turns round and recognizing him, cries out 
 in English. " Hello, Barnes, of New York ! You know every one 
 that's wicked in Paris. Tell me the address of ' La Belle Black- 
 wood ! ' " 
 
 For a moment Barnes has a surging in his ears, as the blood 
 rushes to his face, and he thinks he catches from the English 
 matron the words, " Depraved wretch ! " not made much more 
 palatable to him by the girl's, " Who would have believed it from 
 his face !" 
 
 But summoning up desperate assurance, he replies nonchal- 
 antly, " Every one knows that who lives in Paris ; it's 42 Rue 
 du Helder, You'd know it too, if you could read French, Rug- 
 gles, I saw it in this morning's Figaro /" 
 
 " Ah ! much obliged," says Ruggles, " You young bloods are 
 always a leetle ahead of us old boys !" He gives him a leer (for 
 which Barnes could have killed him), and jots down the address. 
 
 If mental curses could destroy, the Cattle King would have a 
 stroke of paralysis on the spot, for the would-be-innocent Barnes 
 sends him to the lower regions, under his breath, with a vigor 
 and earnestness that would settle a much tougher subject, as he 
 reflects on the probable pleasing effect this little passage may 
 produce on the young lady's opinion and reception of him, when 
 
 his 
 the 
 Belle 
 
 Blackwood' gets her clutches on the old fool she will avenge 
 me!" 
 
 He does not dare to turn ronnd and look at the girl, but has 
 an idea that she is trying to see if he has a very wicked and 
 depraved face behind the back of his blushing neck. This idea 
 becomes a certainty as he hears the British matron say to her, 
 " Enid, don't look at that modern Faust any longer !"
 
 ME. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 39 
 
 A moment after she is addressed as Miss Anstruther, by a 
 gentleman who stops to speak to the two ladies. 
 
 I knew she had a pretty name, thinks Barnes, for he has been 
 putting two and two together ; and two and two in this case pro- 
 duce Enid Anstruther. 
 
 He moreover catches her saying to the gentleman something 
 about meeting " Dear Edwin " in Nice. " Dear Edwin " makes 
 him mediate. It must be the chap she's engaged to, is the un- 
 pleasant thought that comes to him. She's too nice a girl not to 
 have half England running after her. In any other case he would 
 not have made this mistake ; and would know that the last man a 
 girl of her type would call publicly, dear, would be the man she 
 loved ; that " Dear Edwin " might be a friend, cousin, brother ; 
 but lover never ! But philosophy has left Barnes ; for the first 
 time in his life he has become temporarily insane for he is now 
 in love. 
 
 Common courtesy forbids him to linger longer so close to Miss 
 Anstruther, for her bright eyes are beginning to notice his glances ; 
 so he moves a little away, making sure that he is in the path the 
 ladies are taking but in advance of them ; so that, apparently 
 they are following him ; not he, them. 
 
 To do this effectively, he has to perform a good amount of 
 scientific skipping and hopping about, for the ladies seem to have 
 but little time to spend in the place, and fly from one picture to 
 another, as birds do from cherry to cherry. 
 
 Barnes fears this will attract the young lady's attention, and is 
 delighted when she points to a smaller apartment saying, "There's 
 the room of the curious picture. When I have explained why it 
 is curious to me, I'll take you to it." 
 
 Knowing that he will meet the girl there in a few minutes 
 again, by apparent accident, the American promptly enters the 
 room of the curious painting, suddenly gives an exclamation of 
 astonishment, and stands petrified for almost in front of him is 
 a picture of the duel on the beach at Ajaccio, as vividly true and 
 cruelly life-like as on that fatal morning a year before.
 
 40 MK. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE incidents peculiar to that event in Corsica had by no 
 means left the mind of the American ; but in the life of the world 
 of to-day, with its railroad rapidity of change in incident, and 
 extraordinary variety in idea and action, a man of the present 
 generation has little time to think of the past ; he can only put it 
 away in some closest of the brain, to be produced for future re- 
 ference when called for. 
 
 Barnes, face to face with the picture, produces his memories of 
 Corsica and proceeds to apply them to the subject before him. 
 
 His first impression is one of surprise that the view in front of 
 him is so wonderfully correct in some details, and so false in 
 others. The picture is a complete representation of the scene. 
 The shelving shore, the blue waters of the bay, the boat with its 
 native fishermen waiting for the English officers, the little inn 
 with its balcony and table set with the remains of Barnes' break 
 fast, the decayed wooden stairs and the Corsican mountains in the 
 background, are so absolutely real that he almost feels himself 
 standing upon the beach again. But the figures and groupings 
 are not all so correct. 
 
 The canvas presents two portions of the action of the duel that 
 occurred at two different times. Either with the object of giving 
 greater effect to the picture as a work of art, or for some other 
 unknown reason, these two episodes are placed together as if they 
 had taken place at the same moment. 
 
 At the left of the scene, is young Paoli in his French naval 
 uniform, dying in Barnes' arms ; who is supporting his head in 
 the same manner as Marina first saw him his hand is upraised, 
 however, pointing to the English lieutenant with a gesture of dis- 
 approbation. At the center, stands de Belloc, sternly looking at 
 the British officer with a glance of suprised horror, while upon 
 the stairway is old Maeto gazing at him with a scowl of repulsion 
 This object of general condemnation, standing rather to the right 
 of the picture, is holding in one hand his ship's pistol apparently 
 just discharged, as it is still smoking ; while in the other, upraised, 
 he grasps the lucky crown piece with Paoli's bullet flattened 
 against it, and looks at it with triumphant exultation and joy.
 
 MR. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 41 
 
 This effect is also duplicated in the figure of the Englishman's 
 second, who seems equally elated at his companion's success. 
 
 The figures of Paoli, de Belloc, old Maeto, and even the two 
 Corsican fishermen who row the waiting boat, are all absolutely 
 correct in every detail. In fact, that of Antonio is painted with 
 a care and delicacy, and his face given an ideal beauty of ex 
 pression that makes him look more like a martyred saint, than a 
 man dying with the desire of another's blood upon his soul ; 
 proving that whoever painted the picture, could only regard him 
 as absolutely unsinning in the affair that caused his death. In 
 marked contrast to this, Mr. Barnes' face is by no means a good 
 likeness, and could only have been painted from a passing 
 memory ; while the figures of the two English sailors, that are 
 entirely ideal, must have been produced by one who had never 
 seen them, and at best had had but a description of there persons 
 and appearance. The artist, furthermore, had evidently been 
 disposed to do them little justice, as the countenance of the 
 principal in the affair, though lighted up by triumph, is darkened 
 and shaded by malice, murder and cowardice in vivid, yet most 
 repulsive combination. 
 
 Over this scene is thrown the rising, tropic sun, giving the 
 brilliant lights and shadows of a southern picture, and developing 
 the passions on the faces of the men till the thing seems no work 
 of the imagination, but a horrible and cruel reality. 
 
 As an artistic production the picture is not great ; for it is 
 evidently the work of an artist who is not thoroughly cultured 
 in his style, nor technic ; but as a concentration of human pas- 
 sions, real and awful in their intensity, it makes its mark. It 
 has been hung pretty near the line and has quite often a little 
 crowd of morbid gazers about it. Its effects are heightened by 
 artificial means, as it is deeply framed in dead black, lustreless 
 ebony ; and has in red letters upon its sombre frame, its title, 
 " Murdered/ " 
 
 If the committee are idealists, it will receive no prize, thinks 
 Mr. Barnes ; but if a majority of them are realists in art, it will 
 certainly gain an honorable mention, perhaps more. Anyway, 
 Marina might have made me better looking, thinks the young 
 man, for he has almost immediately determined from whose brush 
 the picture must have come. Everything the young Corsican 
 girl knew accurately of the affair had been accurately painted. 
 The portrait of Barnes, of whom she had but a memory, was 
 defective ; while the faces of the two English officers she had 
 never seen, were entirely creations of her imagination. Thinking 
 this, he looks at the corner of the picture to see the artist's name : 
 but only finds the inscription " Finem Respice ! " which Mr.
 
 42 MR. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 
 
 Barnes, whose knowledge of Latin is already rusty, copies into 
 his pocket-book, and a few days after discovers means, " Look to 
 the End !" 
 
 At Barnes' first exclamation and start of surprise at the picture, 
 an old man some little distance in the background, but still near 
 enough to notice anyone standing before it, has gradually ap- 
 proached ; and while he has been examining the painting has 
 carefully been scrutinizing him. Now as he turns about to see if 
 the English girl has not yet entered the room, this man who has 
 the appearance of a picture dealer, and many of the general attri- 
 butes of the speculator who loves art for the shekels that it brings, 
 drops alongside of him and says impressively in English, with a 
 slight foreign accent " Horrible ! " 
 
 " Horrible, indeed ! " returns Barnes with almost a shudder, 
 for the picture is so vivid that he feels the dying boy again in his 
 arms. 
 
 His emotion seems to excite the curiosity of the man beside 
 him as he suggests, " Monsieur is interested in the picture ? " 
 
 " Very much ! " 
 
 " Indeed ? " (a slight inquiry on the word). " It is not a great 
 work ; the artist is young, I believe ! " 
 
 11 You know her then ! " 
 
 " Her 1 " the man looks confused, but after a moment suddenly 
 says, " Yes ! I've seen her once ; you see I thought if I could get 
 the thing cheap I'd buy it. It's so beastly horrible. Some people 
 are morbid in their tastes and will pay more for a first-class mur- 
 der than for a masterpiece from the brush of Ge"r6me or Detaille, 
 I am an art dealer ! " 
 
 " So I guessed ! " replies Barnes. " I suppose if Meissonier 
 would deify some brutal modern assassination by his genius, you'd 
 give a good deal for it ! " 
 
 " A fortune ! if he'd but embody a crime I once investigated 
 ' Here the man checks himself suddenly and says, " You 
 wish to purchase this, Monsieur ? " 
 
 " No ! I wouldn't have it for a gift ! It brings back unpleasant 
 memories too vividly ; I almost see it now ! " and the American 
 again thinks of the fatal morning and becomes grave. 
 
 The man at this is evidently about to ask him some question, 
 but Enid Anstruther and Mrs. Vavassour enter the room, and 
 Barnes has now no thought of anything but her. He moves away 
 from the picture and ensconces himself in an obscure corner where 
 he can see the girl without coming himself prominently into view. 
 From this time forward, however, the gaze of the man who has 
 spoken to him follows him greedily, as if there was a good deal of 
 money in not losing sight of the foreigner who is interested in the
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 43 
 
 picture. A moment later, seeing that Barnes has no thought of 
 leaving, he steps out of the room and returns with two others, 
 who, after a short consultation, put their eyes upon and keep them 
 on the foreigner who has been startled by the picture ; seemingly 
 to fix him in their minds, and after a moment saunter leisurely 
 out unnoticed by Barnes, who has just been reduced to practical 
 lunacy by the peculiar actions of his English enchantress. 
 
 Miss Anstruther, after one quick glance about the room with 
 her shining blue eyes, apparently in search of somebody she does 
 not see, leads Mrs. Vavassour straight to the canvas from which 
 Barnes has turned away ; and, standing before it laughs to her 
 companion and says, " That's the one I told you about ! That's 
 he ! That's the man I've fallen in love with ! That's the crea- 
 ture I adore with all my heart ! " pointing eagerly to the picture. 
 
 " Which one 1 Miss Impressionable ! " laughs Mrs. Vavassour, 
 feeling for her glasses. 
 
 " That one ! The ugly one ! " and the girl directs her finger 
 straight at the figure and face intended for Barnes. 
 
 At these astounding words a spasm of ecstasy flies through that 
 young gentleman's soul. After recovering his senses a little, he 
 meditates savagely : if Marina had only painted him better look- 
 ing, the irl would recognize him, and then rapture ! 
 
 This flattering view of the situation is materially tempered, 
 however, as he hears Mrs. Vavassour remark, inspecting the picture 
 closely with her eye-glass, "Why ! he somewhat resembles that 
 horrid modern young Faust we saw in the other room ! " 
 
 " Not at all ! My darling " the girl lingers on the word and 
 gazes coquetishly at the Barnes on canvas " is much handsomer. 
 Say you think so, Mrs. Vavassour, or I sha'n't like you ! " 
 ' Indeed he is not ! " 
 
 " Oh, yes, he is ! He has such an exquisite mustache, and 
 Faust had none ! " 
 
 Barnes here curses the barber who shaved him and robbed him 
 of the ornament. 
 
 After a little pause Mrs. Vavassour, who is a practical woman, 
 says, " What nonsense ! You have plenty of flesh and blood 
 adorers, Enid ! " 
 
 The reply makes Barnes start. 
 
 " Oh ! he's flesh and blood too ; this is not an ideal, it's a por- 
 trait ! " 
 
 " Why do you think that?" 
 
 " You know I told you what at first made me so interested in 
 the picture that letter from Egypt. It rather reminded me of 
 the affair, especially that lucky penny episode on the canvas ; so 
 I came to see the picture several times and got to studying the
 
 44 MB. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 morbid horror of the thing, and then became interested in the 
 faces especially in his but I wasn't very desperate about him 
 till I became jealous." 
 
 " What ? " gasps Mrs. Yavassour. 
 
 " I feared I had a rival !" this last with simulated melodramatic? 
 intensity. 
 
 "A rival 1" almost screams the now astounded British matron. 
 " Great Heavens ! Did you tlink that canvas thing could be false 
 to you ? " 
 
 " No ! But I feared another loved him also ; a Spanish, Italian 
 foreign girl used to linger at a little distance, gazing lovingly at 
 this part of the picture," and she points to Barnes supporting the 
 dying boy. " A Frenchman generally was with her ; and one 
 day I presume she had noticed my interest in the picture she 
 came to me and asked me point blank, why I looked at that can- 
 vas so much 1 As I did not care to tell her the Egyptian story, 
 I said I was epris with the face of the man who pitied ! And 
 then she said to me with a little sad smile, 'Yes, he pitied but 
 be careful, don't love him too much ; he lives !' To which I re- 
 plied, 'You had better take care of your own heart you look at 
 him quite tenderly yc urself ' " 
 
 " And she ? " suggests Mrs. Vavassour 
 
 " She said, ' It is the dying man I look at he was my brother !' 
 Then she went away, and I found out, by questioning the attend- 
 ants, that she had painted the picture of her brother's murder 
 a nice, morose, morbid taste, wasn't it ?" 
 
 " Not a bit more morbid than giving your heart to a man cm 
 canvas," suggests Mrs. Yavassour. 
 
 " Do you think so ? I find it very convenient. I can have a 
 rendezvous with him whenever I please ; and he never makes love 
 to me in return, nor says things that make me hate him, nor 
 squeezes my hand till my fingers suffer, nor does something that 
 causes me to get on my dignity and keep him at a distance ; but, 
 as this is our last interview, I've brought you with me, Mrs. 
 Yavassour, that our parting may not be too tender ? " laughs the 
 girl. 
 
 " Enid ! you're not insane enough to ever expect to meet this, 
 man ! " 
 
 " No such luck, I'm afraid," says the girl in playful sadness. 
 
 " And if you did ? " 
 
 " And if he looks like that I should adore him ! The rest " 
 and she points to the picture " have triumph, hate, or rage in 
 their faces but pity, none ! My darling," here the girl almost 
 laughs at her conceit, " has pity. I know he could fight as well 
 as the bravest of them ; and love much better ! " and she gives.
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 45 
 
 the Mr. Barnes on the canvas a look of such bewitching tender- 
 ness, that she makes the Barnes of flesh and blood almost crazy 
 with rapture. 
 
 Mr. Barnes has not overheard the whole of this conversation, 
 but he has caught enough to make him slightly imbecile, and he 
 now has wild dreams of introducing himself as the earthly repre- 
 sentative of the being she loves. However, a little remaining 
 sanity prevents this impertinence. 
 
 " But if you meet him, would you marry him ? " asks Mrs. 
 Vavassour, who now with true matronly spirit has become inter- 
 ested in making a match for the girl, even with a man on canvas. 
 
 " Who can tell 1 " We seldom marry first loves what non- 
 sense ! Of course we'll never see each other ; and if we did, 
 I should probably hate him ! " Then turning to the picture, 
 Miss Anstruther says : " Good-by, my darling ; if I were rich, I'd 
 buy you ; and we'd never part ; but poverty so often separates 
 lovers in this world." 
 
 Barnes, who drinks in with extended ears the last part of this 
 speech, rushes off to find the picture dealer. He will purchase it, 
 and Astound his darling his Enid, by presenting it on the 
 wedding morning, is his last erratic inspiration. 
 
 He has got to calling her " his Enid ! " in his mind already, has 
 this rapid young man for though, during the extraordinary con- 
 versation he had just listened to, he had probably not had one 
 moment of real absolute sanity, he has still clung, with all a 
 maniac's fervor, to one grand central idea, and that is, that the 
 girl who loves the Barnes of canvas, shall love the Barnes of clay, 
 and marry him with very short delay, for either consideration or 
 trousseau. 
 
 In fact he has, even now, wild dreams of Como and the honey- 
 moon, with her by his side, robed in delicious morning gowns, and 
 other entrancing toilets that drive young husbands into rapture. 
 Wonders whether she'll give him one night a week off for his 
 club, and if she'll make a very big battle against cigarettes, cigars, 
 and his other pet mannish frivolties and dissipations. And many 
 other wild masculine i<jteas flit through his brain, some of which 
 would make her laugh, and some of which would probably make 
 her blush, if the girl could have known them. 
 
 Mr. Barnes finds the picture dealer without much trouble for 
 that worthy has never lost sight of him for a moment, and comes 
 eagerly half-way to meet him " I haven't a minute to talk to 
 you," says the American, "I've changed my mind and want that 
 picture. Find out what price she asks for it, and communicate 
 with me at Hotel Meurice." 
 
 " What name ? " inquires the picture dealer but by this time
 
 46 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 Barnes is half-way across the room from him, in pursuit of Miss 
 Anstruther, who has just left the apartment. 
 
 He shouts back " Hotel Meurice ! I'll leave word for you at 
 the office ! " hurries on, and pushing his way in the crowd, over- 
 takes the ladies just as they reach the vestibule. Here he catches 
 these words passing between them. 
 
 " Enid, you must have some lunch before you go ! " 
 
 "I can't! I must catch the express train Lady Chartris- 
 goes upon it, and my maid will be with her." ' With this the 
 young girl steps into a hack and drives away. As she does so, 
 Barnes gets into another, whispering to the driver, " Twenty 
 francs if you don't lose sight of that carriage ahead of you ! And 
 drive like blazes ! " As the American whirls away, the picture 
 dealer, accompanied by the two men with whom he has been in 
 consultation, comes out of the door : he says to them, " Remember 
 don't let him escape you follow him and telegraph ! " 
 
 The men jump hastily into a hack that has been waiting for 
 them, and the three cabs take the direction of the Boulevard 
 manzas and Lyons Railway station, the young English girl in 
 the first, unconscious of pursuit ; Mr. Barnes in the second, equally 
 innocent that any one is on his track ; and two very ordinary 
 looking Frenchmen in the third ; one of them chuckling to the 
 other, " I wonder what frightened our bird 1 That was a bright 
 card he played, telling Casper to find him at the Hotel Meurice, 
 when he's now driving like mad to the Lyons Railway station ! >f 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE LYONS EXPRESS. 
 
 As Miss Anstruther drives up to the Lyons depot she sees that 
 the train is almost ready to move, and having her ticket in her 
 pocket, and no time to find her party, she steps into a first- class 
 carriage, the door of which a guard obligingly holds open for her. 
 
 Mr. Barnes, however, doesn't know exactly for what place he 
 wants his ticket ; but remembering hearing the young lady say 
 she hoped to meet " Dear Edwin " in Nice, promptly guesses in 
 answer to the ticket seller's question " Nice ! " At this the two- 
 men following after him at the ticket office say Nice also, and 
 they all hurry to the train. Having not a moment to lose, 
 Barnes jumps into the only carriage now open, and finds himself
 
 ME. BAENES OF NEW YOEK. 47 
 
 sitting in the very place he most desired that is, opposite the 
 girl he pursues. The two men get into the coupe" compartment 
 behind. 
 
 The American's back is towards the engine, consequently, look- 
 ing through the windows of the carriage, he has a view of the 
 rear of the train ; and just as they begin to move he has a rather 
 ludicrous flying glimpse of a conventional English matron dressed 
 in the height of fashion, struggling with three sturdy English 
 children and two French railway officials in a vain endeavor to 
 board the out-going train. She is supported in this by two serving- 
 maids and a conventional English flunkey, all laden down with 
 the hand-baggage without which a conventional English family 
 never travels. 
 
 The next second the struggling party are left well behind by 
 t he train that is now under full headway for Lyons ! Mr. Barnes, 
 who is a perfect "Baedeker" having travelled over Europe many 
 times, knows it is an express, and will only make four stops of 
 n ny length between Paris and the silk- weaving city : at Montereau, 
 Tonnerre, Dijon and Macon ; any other pauses will be but for a 
 second or so. Therefore he has little chance of losing his pleasant 
 companion for nearly two hours ; perhaps not then, if he arranges 
 the matter properly 
 
 He settles himself in his seat and begins to contemplate the 
 tasks he has set himself to do ; which are, first to make the young 
 lady's acquaintance who sits before him ; and wisely judges that 
 she will by no means permit him to introduce himself ; as, on his 
 entering the carriage she has drawn herself up, given him a glance 
 of the coldest unmeaning, and now doesn't let her eyes wander 
 from a newspaper she has drawn out of a hand-satchel, the only 
 baggage she has with her. Until he conquers the first problem, 
 it is manifestly absurd to contemplate the second ; so he immedi- 
 ately directs his mind to discover some means of creating an 
 acquaintance, without either wounding her sensitive pride or 
 outraging any of the proprieties of usage or decorum of the class 
 in life to which Miss Anstruther evidently belongs. 
 
 While doing so, he cannot keep from contemplating the wonder- 
 ful physical beauty of the girl before him, which, until now, he 
 lias not thoroughly realized. 
 
 The girl is but little over the medium height, but, so erect, she 
 looks much taller, Her figure is a perfect combination of the 
 round contours of the woman, and the lithe and subtile graces of 
 the girl ; her limbs having that agile ease of movement, that makes 
 their motion harmonious; their rest, unconscious beauty. All 
 this is easily apparent, for she has been clothed by an artist who 
 has felt that art could do nothing for such a figure, but simply
 
 48 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 display it ; and her dress, without any undue trimming or fur- 
 below, is a perfect fit. Its color is blue, of medium shade, 
 relieved by a little white at neck and wrists, and a handful of 
 pink rosebuds carelessly pinned on her bosom. The general effect 
 of this toilet is simplicity, perfect in detail, from her boots and 
 gloves to her jewelry, which is limited in amount, but exquisite 
 in design, from the massive gold bracelet that encloses her supple 
 wrist to the little watch she occasionally consults. 
 
 Under a hat, not large enough to conceal the form of her head, 
 is a heavy mass of lustrous golden hair, with now and then a dasli 
 of brown auburn showing in it, which shades something a poet 
 would have called a poem, a painter would have styled a picture ; 
 but Barnes knows it is the fairest thing in nature, for it is the 
 face of the girl he loves. And as that thought comes thoroughly 
 home to him, he thanks God, as he has never thanked Him 
 before, that he is rich, and has leisure, and can pursue her to the 
 ends of the earth, if necessary, to make her his own. 
 
 As poor man, he would have been tied to some drudgery of 
 life for daily bread, and so have lost her ; but now he has his 
 chance, nothing can rob him of that ; and he laughs to himself 
 as he thinks that fanatics have told us that -'contentment is 
 better than wealth ; " forgetting that it takes a philosopher to be 
 content with poverty ; though a man can sometimes be satisfied 
 with riches. 
 
 . As to the character of the young lady before him, Barnes had 
 a vague idea that it is perfect ; but he is by this time so partial to 
 her that a blemish would be twisted by his amorous mind into a 
 beauty ; and he does not notice that there is a general impulsive 
 ness of manner about her, that would make a careful observer 
 guess that Miss Anstruther might carry a generous impulse too 
 far ; and has a spirit that is apt to fly to arms before even the 
 bugle sounds the alarm, to do battle for ideas upon which she 
 forms opinions without very deep consideration, but with intense 
 and determined conviction. 
 
 At present, Mr. Barnes notices that his angel has a discontented 
 expression on her face and is tapping the floor of the car very 
 impatiently with her seraphic foot. With a lover's faint-hearted 
 ness he imagines she is angry at his intrusion upon her 
 privacy. 
 
 This is partly true ; the presence of any man would annoy any 
 girl at such a moment, for Miss Anstruther's foot is asleep and 
 she would like to be alone, so that she might kick it about, stamp 
 on it, dance upon it, and drive the needles and pins out of it, 
 unembarrassed by masculine observation. 
 
 After a little, gentler measures apparently succeed ; a peaceful
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 49 
 
 lassitude comes over her face and she peruses the paper in quiet 
 once more. 
 
 Silence ! If he only dared to break it by addressing her but 
 a too vital result hangs upon her reception of his advances. To 
 any other girl Barnes would have spoken with the nonchalant 
 ,-issurance of the man of the world ; making an advance that could 
 by no means offend ; and, if not pleasantly received, could be 
 retreated from with easy grace. 
 
 But with her it seems so different, a slight offence might 
 'lestroy his chances of success ; and he slyly studies the girl to see 
 if there is no weak spot in the defensive armor of hauteur she has 
 put about her. While he watches, she reads the newspaper, and 
 the train, hardly stopping, slips past Melun and one or two little 
 stations, without her making a movement. She apparently finishes 
 the paper ; and putting it down, takes from her satchel a novel. 
 This she begins to read, getting more and more interested : and 
 her face reflecting the passions and emotions of the book. Barnes 
 -can see it is one of Ouida's, and hardly thinks it is just the thing 
 1'or his divinity to peruse ; for, though Barnes enjoys Ouida him- 
 self, like many other men, he prefers to have all the wickedness 
 in his family and he almost now regards the girl in that light 
 -concentrated in himself. He at last sees the title and is relieved 
 at is " Two Little Wooden Shoes," perhaps the most pathetic story 
 ever written ; containing no wickedness, nothing but tears. Some 
 of these have got into the girl's eyes and add to her loveliness as 
 the train stops at Montereau. Here Barnes fears she is going to- 
 ;eave him, but she is so interested in the novel, she merely looks 
 up, calls the guard to her and says, "Find Lady Chartris, who is 
 on this train, and tell her Miss Anstruther will join her at the 
 uext station !" then buries herself in the book once more. As 
 the guard goes away, Barnes blesses the genius of Ouida that has 
 i^iven him a little more time. The train rushes on, and after 
 rinishing the story and wiping the tears from her eyes with the back 
 of her hand, unconsciously, the girl looks out of the carriage win- 
 dow at the passing scenery But no one can commune with aver- 
 age French views, for more than a quarter of an hour at a time ; 
 she turns from the window with a little pathetic half yawn, half 
 sigh ; tosses away her hat, which exposes a few new beauties, and 
 tries to find a spot in the cushion that is softer than her cheek, that 
 she may rest it against it and go to sleep. 
 
 Her expression becomes dreamy and contemplative ; she looks 
 quietly at Barnes, and, after a little, her eyes have a slight smite 
 of recognition in them, which makes the young man hope she is 
 the Barnes of the canvas ! She is really remembering him as Mrs. 
 
 (4)
 
 50 MK. BAKNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 Vavassour's dissipated modern young Faust of the La Belle Black- 
 wood episode, and her glance becomes a trifle sterner. 
 
 Barnes surreptitiously consults his watch. It is after two- 
 o'clock. He must act now or never ! At this moment, a sudden* 
 thought seems to come to Miss Anstruther ; she rouses into acti 
 vity, opens her eyes wider with a little smile, as if, metaphorically 
 patting herself on the back, for a bright idea ; sits erect in the 
 seat, picks up her paper again which is the Figaro of the morn- 
 ing and studies ic carefully, going over it line by line and column, 
 by column, not even omitting the advertisements. She is not 
 exactly reading the journal, but apparently earnestly seeking for 
 some one item of news in the edition before her. 
 
 " What the deuce is she after now," wonders the American : 
 " shall I offer to help her find it 1 " It is just as well that he does 
 not, for by this time she has finished the paper and her eyes hav<* 
 a severely moral expression in them, though she gives a slight 
 iaugh and a veiled glance at Mr. Barnes. 
 
 " By George ! she is recognizing me as her darling of the canvas," 
 thinks that gentleman in rapture. 
 
 In reality Miss Anstruther is thinking what an atrocious fib 
 the modern Faust has uttered that morning in the Salon, whero- 
 he publicly stated that he had read La Belle Blackwood's address 
 in the day's Figaro. Having the paper at hand and wishing to 
 kill time, it had occurred to her to examine the journal and see if 
 the young gentleman opposite had arrived at his rather comprom- 
 ising knowledge from the general source he said he had. This she 
 has done, with a result entirely disastrous to Faust's reputation 
 for both morality and veracity. 
 
 Emboldened by his flattering view of the causes of his charmer's. 
 demeanor, the time for Tonnerre, there next stoppage, drawing 
 near, and desperately anxious to do something to advance hia 
 cause, Barnes strives as nearly as possible to give himself the atti- 
 tude of the Barnes of the picture ; attempting to throw the same 
 sorrowing pathos into his eyes. This has a fearful effect on the 
 girl j she blushes red and is anxiously uneasy as she thinks he is 
 slightly intoxicated. Made more confident by the evident eflect 
 he has produced, and wishing to hear the melody of her voice 
 an;ain for it is now all of four hours since she last spoke in his 
 hearing, in the Salon Barnes, as she is laying down the paper, 
 eagerly says, "Would you allow me to examine your Figaro, 
 Miss ; I have not as yet seen this morning's edition ! " 
 
 Her answer comes cold as an iceberg, and disdainful as a saint 
 addressing a sinner " Certainly ! " 
 
 With this one word she hands him the paper with the same
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 51 
 
 apparent unconcern she would have shoved it into a patent letter- 
 box. 
 
 "Many thanks!" murmm-s the blushing Barnes, who is sud- 
 denly conscious that his words if she remembers him at all 
 have convicted him of a deliberate fib. He feels crushed and 
 uncomfortable, buries himself behind the paper and tries to appear . 
 to read it, though for a moment he doesn't see a line. 
 
 The girl turns from him and looking out of the window thinks, 
 what a deceitful wretch the creature inside is ; and that her gal- 
 lant sailor brother would have disdained to have told such a fright- 
 ful lie. In this, however, she is mistaken ; her gallant sailor bro- 
 ther would, under similar circumstances, have told just such a 
 frightful lie, if he had been smart enough to think of it. But 
 women have a way of deiting those they love, and thinking them 
 better than otiier men ; otherwise but few of us would have much 
 chance of holding their respect. 
 
 As Barnes looks at her beautiful but uncompromising back, it 
 suddenly flashes on him that, when they reach Tonnerre, the girl 
 will join their party ; and then his present chance is gone from> x 
 him forever. However, he will still follow her. He looks at his. 
 pocket-book and finds a thousand francs in bills, also his letter of' 
 credit. Finances are all right, and he can telegraph for his ser- 
 vant and baggage. If he is to win, he realizes now that he must, 
 adopt some settled plan of action ; and, begins to think of those 
 who have conquered in love's wars before, and what assistance he^ 
 can derive from their experience. He remembers that the most, 
 successful man, with the fair sex, he had ever known, had once 
 summed up his ideas on the subject in these words : " The woman 
 who conquers, despies ; the woman who is conquered, loves !" 
 
 Barnes determines he will conquer Miss Anstruther ; but the 
 question is, how 1 While he is pondering over it, the train slackens 
 speed and a moment after comes to a standstill, as the guard calls, 
 out " Tonnerre ! " 
 
 So far Mr. Barnes has not made one step towards success ; but 
 here an unexpected stroke of luck awaits him. 
 
 The young lady, as soon as the guard opens the carriage door 
 says hurriedly to him in French that has but a slight accent, " Did 
 you deliver my message to Lady Chartris ? Which is her car* 
 riage 1 " 
 
 " I did not, Mademoiselle ! " 
 
 " And why not ? " her voice is slightly imperious. 
 
 " I could not find her ! " 
 
 To which the young lady replies impatiently, " Then do so at 
 once ! Lady Chartris is English. When you have found her k 
 come back and take me to her ! ''
 
 52 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 The official touches his hat and walks off, as the girl takes up 
 lior satchel, shakes her dress out and prepares to disappear from 
 Mr. Barnes' view. 
 
 Anxious for another word, before she leaves him, the Amer- 
 ican cannot restrain himself from saying, " I beg your pardon : 
 here is your paper, Miss ! " offering her the journal. 
 
 Her answer is again disappointing, " I shall not use it ; please 
 don't trouble yourself ! " 
 
 The next instant the guard is again at the carriage door, and 
 says respectfully, " Mademoiselle, the lady you spoke of is not 
 on the train ! " 
 
 A look of consternation comes over the girl's face, but she 
 recovers herself and exclaims, " Impossible ! When you inquired, 
 she can't have understood you. She imagines she speaks French 
 perfectly, but your Breton accent would be entirely beyond 
 her ! " 
 
 Not relishing this reflection on his dialect, the man says shortly, 
 " I am sure she is not on this train ! " 
 
 " But she must be ! She has no right to be anywhere else. 
 You did not mistake the name, Lady Chartris ! She is English, and 
 fat and fifty, and has three children ; a boy in knickerbockers and 
 two girls one so high " the young lady holds up her hand 
 "and another, afoot shorter ;.ancl two servant women, one of them 
 my maid ! inquire again ! " The guard disappears. 
 
 This description of Lady Chartris has given Barnes a spasm of 
 hope, for he guesses she is the fat woman with the three chil- 
 dren who missed the train. This view of the matter is made cer- 
 tainty by the railway officer returning and announcing, " There 
 is no woman with three children on this train ! " 
 
 At this the girl gives a little shiver of anxiety ; and says, "I 
 can't believe you. She would not dare to leave me here alone 
 Help me out, let me see for myself ! " 
 
 As she steps from the carriage the official suggests, politely, for 
 he rather pities her embarrassment, I will keep this seat reserved 
 for you as all the other carriages are nearly full, and I am sure the 
 lady, whom you seek, is not on the train ! " 
 
 Hardly heeding his wo ds, the girl runs off; but while this has 
 been going on, Barnes has been plotting how to conquer the young 
 lady's frigidity of manner to him, and has decided on starving her. 
 He has seen wild animals subdued by hunger, in India ; and, a 
 little hunger, he judges, will help his case with Miss Anstruther. 
 In fact he almost chuckles to himself, " The worse off she, the 
 better off I." 
 
 The problem before him now is, how to keep a girl, of at 
 least average sense and probably enough money, from getting any
 
 MK. UAltXES OF NEW YORK. 53 
 
 thing to eat until she calls him to her aid. It is seven hours 
 more to Lyons, with two stops of consequence Dijon and Macon. 
 He looks the guard over and imagines he has solved it. 
 
 By this time, the object of his solicitude is back again ; exclaim- 
 ing, " What am I to do, that fearful old woman " (she is angry 
 and excited) " is not here ! When does the train arrive at 
 Lyons ? " 
 
 " At ten-fifteen ! " 
 
 " How long before a return train starts for Paris 1 " 
 
 Barnes' heart sinks and he gets hastily out of the carriage to 
 return to Paris himself. 
 
 " In about three-quarters of an hour ! " 
 
 She looks at her watch ; it is now almost a quarter after three 
 and asks, " A fast train ? " 
 
 " No ! a local ; take you there by ten to-night ! " 
 
 " Hesitating a moment she says, " See if there's a telegram for 
 Miss Anstruther at the office ! " and fearing he may mistake the 
 name gives the guard her card. 
 
 The man takes this, but returns almost instantly saying, " No 
 telegram ! " 
 
 " When does the train after this one leave Paris for Lyons ?" 
 
 " At twenty minutes past twelve ? " 
 
 " Why she's only an hour behind me ! " joyfully cries the girl. 
 " She will overtake me at Lyons ! I shall go on ! " and steps back 
 into the carriage again. 
 
 The guard hardly catches the whole of this, another passenger 
 has also spoken to him. Barnes knows that this twelve twenty 
 train is a slow accommodation that travels as if its engine was 
 eternally stopping for repairs, and will not arrive at Lyons till 
 late next morning. He is aware that he should now go up to 
 Miss Anstruther and tell her what he knows ; but he is also very 
 confident that his best chance of gaining the friendship of the girl 
 is when she most needs a friend ; and that will be in Lyons to- 
 night. Soothing his conscience with the vile maxim that, "All is 
 fair in love and war," he walks into the ticket office and buys six 
 extra tickets for the vacant places in his compartment ; comes 
 out, goes after the guard, and taking care he is out of sight of 
 Miss Anstruther, silently holds out a twenty-franc piece. That 
 official smiles, instantly pockets it and says, " What can I do for 
 Monsieur?" 
 
 To which Barnes promptly responds, " See that no one takes 
 seats in my compartment ! I have here the extra tickets ! show- 
 ing them to the man. " A supper will meet me at Dijon ; if the 
 young lady asks to get out, to eat, either at Dijon or Macon, tell 
 her there is no time !"
 
 54 Mil. BAllNKS OF NKW Yol;K. 
 
 " But if she insists in getting out herself? " 
 
 ''Offer to bring what she orders to her ; she is alone and wilt 
 accept ; then don't do it. Immediately after she indicates she is 
 hungry, pass my supper into me ; I want Mademoiselle to accept 
 of my hospitality ! " 
 
 "Ah! "says the guard, "you are cpris with Mademoiselle?" 
 
 " Quite ! " and Barnes to prove it produces another gold twenty 
 franc piece remarking, " Earn this and you'll get it at Lyons ! ' 
 
 The man replies, " I shall call on you at Lyons ! " 
 
 Barnes knows the affair is arranged, goes hurriedly into the 
 telegraph office and sends a telegram to a well-known restaurant 
 at Dijon. 
 
 During this stoppage, two men have walked up and down the 
 platform and eyed Barnes and the girl, and now one of them goes 
 into the telegraph station 'after him and sends a telegram ad- 
 dressed to 
 
 " Count Musso Danella, Paris." 
 
 Mr. Barnes hurries out of the office ; and catches the train that 
 is now about to proceed. As he enters the car, the English girl 
 noticing tlie wild triumph of his glance, thinks with a shudder, 
 " He surely must be a little drunk ; " and so he is, drunk with 
 happiness for he now feels that he's got his angel to himself for 
 at least six short hours. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 CONQUERED ! 
 
 THIS curious conceit of the girl, affects her. manner to him. 
 Miss Anstruther is now an iceberg, for she knows she is alone and 
 unprotected. 
 
 As the American sees that any passing glance of his causes her 
 to instantly turn her head coldly away, he thinks rather savagely, 
 " Wonder if she supposes I am brute enough to take advantage 
 of her loneliness and insult her. By heaven ! if any man dares 
 to approach that angel in an unpleasant way ! and he grinds his 
 teeth at the thought; and then such are the idiocies of love lie 
 almost wishes some unlucky Frenchman would insult his divinity 
 that he might fall upon him. beat him, bang his head against tin- 
 floor, dash him out of the car-window, and generally make a hero
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YOHK. 55 
 
 of himself, in defence of this delicate girl that he proposes to 
 starve into better acquaintance with his virtues. 
 
 The object of his tender regard has again picked up Ouida, and 
 Is trying to turn her attention to another short story ; but she 
 apparently makes bad work of this, and is becoming anxious. 
 She puts the book down and looks at her watch. 
 
 " Egad ! she is getting impatient for something," thinks 
 Barnes, who is beginning to study her in a grim, philosophical 
 manner; " wonder if it's dinner ! " 
 
 A moment after, Miss Anstruther looks out of the window, and 
 keeps at this till her admirer gets impatient, for he is now no 
 longer happy unless he sees her face every minute. 
 
 However, this does not last forever ; she once more picks up 
 her bag, produces a bundle of old letters and reads them. Per- 
 ceiving they are in a masculine hand, Barnes wonders whom they 
 are from ; and hates him, whoever he is. 
 
 Then she again looks at her watch, this time petulantly ; and, 
 putting away her correspondence, takes out her handkerchief, 
 wipes the mist from the window with it, and gazes out again, but 
 only for a moment. She is evidently nervous, plays with her 
 bracelet, and is now quite restless ; and, after another glance at 
 her watch, she searches hurriedly in her satchel. Barnes fears it 
 is for cake or candy, or something that women eat, and feels 
 relieved when she pulls out a pocket guide-book, and studies it, 
 and runs up and down time tables, and brings out a little 
 gold pencil, but instead of figuring with it, knits her brow, and 
 chews abstractedly the end of it. Apparently, either not being 
 sufficient of a mathematician, or not finding exactly what she 
 wants, she seems about to speak to him but suddenly checks 
 herself and goes to tying knots in her handkerchief in a mechani- 
 cal way, that makes Barnes fear that she is not hungry, and may 
 be a female Dr. Tanner. 
 
 His alarm is shortly terminated, by her voice coming to him 
 rather hesitatingly and nervously, but very sweetly : " Excuse 
 me, sir, but have you travelled this route before ! " 
 
 " Often ! " says Barnes. His voice indicates he is sober and 
 she gains courage. 
 
 " Do we arrive at Dijon soon ? " 
 
 " In fifteen minutes, barring accidents ! " he replies, looking at 
 his watch. 
 
 " The train stops there for refreshments 1 " this anxiously. 
 
 "Sometimes!" says the American, hardly able to conceal his 
 delight, as he knows that appetite has got the better of Miss 
 Anstruther ; then he continues, " Being alone, you had better ask 
 the guard ; he will bring you anything you may want ! " and con- 
 siders himself quite a Machiavelli.
 
 56 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 " I thank you very- much ! " The girl's voice is so grateful that 
 Barnes could bite his tongue for being a brute ; for by this time., 
 she looks quite pale and worn out. But he excuses his heartless 
 ness >y thinking how his darling will enjoy her supper when she> 
 does get it. And this leads to the reflection, as he views the girl's 
 impatient and hungry look and remembers he has heard her say 
 that she. has had no lunch, that he and the guard will probably 
 have their hands full in Dijon ; for, doubtless Miss Anstruther 
 will make a very lively and desperate fight to get something to 
 eat, during the twenty minutes she will spend in sight of the 
 refreshment room. "We can't use force ; diplomacy must be our 
 only standby it will be a close call." As he thinks this, the- 
 lights of Dijon come in sight, for it is now almost evening. 
 
 The instant the train comes to a stop, the English girl beckons 
 at the window of the carriage to the guard. That worthy appar- 
 ently does not see her, and opens the door of every other compart- 
 ment but hers then disappears, going towards the locomotive, as 
 if some one had called him away. After a little, he returns again 
 and passes into the telegraph office ; wanders out and thinks a 
 man calls him to another carriage, and talks to the people in it. 
 During this, about half the passengers get out and go to the- 
 refreshment room. This sight makes the girl impatient, for now 
 she taps violently on the window of her carriage. At last, the- 
 guard sees her and comes slowly and opens the door, Barnes is 
 delighted with him ; he has already disposed of nearly ten 
 minutes. 
 
 The young lady says sharply, for she is justly angry " Why 
 did you not open this door, when you did the rest 1 " 
 
 " I was called away to the engine ! " 
 
 " What have you to do with the engine ? " 
 
 Barnes chuckles, the girl is wasting time by asking questions, 
 and playing his game for him. 
 
 But hunger brings her back to business, and she comes to the 
 point with " I want you to bring me something to eat ! " 
 
 " Anything to drink ?" 
 
 " Of course ! Tea or coffee either ! " 
 
 The man hesitates, catches Barnes' eye and still seeing twenty 
 francs in it says, " Certainly ! Mademoiselle there is ampler 
 time. What would you like 1 I will bring you the bill of fare ! " 
 He runs away but stays some time, and when he returns, remarks,. 
 " There is no printed menu, but they have everything," and begins 
 to give, slowly and with great consideration, correcting himself 
 several times, nearly a list of the market of Paris. 
 
 Miss Anstruther cuts him short with, " Bring me anything, bnt 
 bring it quickly ! "
 
 MR. liAKNE.S OF NEW YORK. 57 
 
 He departs ; she takes off' her "loves, showing a pair of white 
 hands and dimpled wrists, and prepares eagerly to eat. But after 
 she has had time to grovy impatient the guard comes back and dis- 
 gusts her by asking deferentially, " Will Mademoiselle have it 
 hot or cold ?" 
 
 " Hot ! cold ! any way ! But be quick. 
 
 He departs again. Barnes looks at his watch, and she has now 
 but eight minutes. 
 
 Five of those pass the girl is beating her foot impatiently upon 
 the floor. The other passengers are coming out of the refresh- 
 ment room and taking their places on the train. 
 
 This sight makes the famished beauty desperate ; she is 
 about to get out of the car and make a struggle to get something 
 herself ; when Barnes, suddenly hears her utter a little purr of 
 joy, and, to his disgust, sees the guard elbowing his way through 
 the crowd, followed by a boy bearing a tray, laden with eatables 
 enough for half a dozen ; and, curses the man, under his breath, 
 for having betrayed him at the last moment. 
 
 They are nearly at the car ; the girl, with a smile of hope on 
 her face, anxiously extends her hands ; the gargon runs forward 
 to her the tray ; but, by some fatality, the man's foot gets in 
 front of the boy ; he trips over it and falls headlong on the plat- 
 form, completely destroying Miss Anstruther's last chance of a 
 meal. She utters a cry of almost despair and is springing out to 
 make a despsrate flying rush to the refreshment saloon, when the 
 guard says, " Macon is the next buffet ! " suddenly slaps the door 
 in her face, locks it and cries, " All aboard ! " and then goes very 
 deliberately about fastening the other doors, for it is fully two 
 minutes more before the train leaves. When it does so, it has on 
 it a very hungry and very angry young lady, in the third com- 
 partment of the last carriage, who mutters piteously, "The idiot ! 
 locked me in. first! He might have given me a chance at a sand- 
 wich ! " 
 
 But now a horrible fear comes to Barnes ; what if his supper is 
 not on the train. At this, he begins to feel hungry himself, sym- 
 pathizes with the girl, and wonders if she c*n endure two hours 
 and a half more fasting to Macon ; if his villainy has caused such 
 a disaster, for the girl's little hand is trembling with rage, or 
 hunger, or both, and there are tears of disappointment in her eyes. 
 
 He is relieved from this fear at the first station ; the train 
 pauses for thirty seconds. The guard unlocks the door of their 
 compartment and puts in a large basket. 
 
 As he does so, Miss Anstruther's face becomes radiant ; she 
 cries, " You have got it at last ! How nice ! " and extends her 
 hand.
 
 58 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 The guard stops her, by saying sententiously, " For Monsieur ! 
 ordered by telegraph ! L'addition ! " giving Barnes the bill. He 
 pays this, adding a pour-boire for the man, and the next instant 
 they are dashing on again, the lunch on the floor of the car 
 between them. 
 
 The disappointed girl has collasped on the cushions of her seat ! 
 She makes a great effort to appear indifferent, but her eyes rest on 
 the basket in a longing, greedy, wistful stare. 
 
 One look at her is sufficient. "She is hungry as a wolf only 
 waiting to be asked," thinks Barnes, and he politely suggests, 
 " Permit me to repair the stupidity of the guard. I have plenty 
 for two; please accept a part of my supper, Miss ! " 
 
 Disappointmentand astonishment ! Miss Anstruther says coldly, 
 but with a hesitation, born of the battle she does with herself, " I 
 thank you ; I am not very hungry ! " 
 
 She is no fool to go fasting when the pantry is at her hand 
 and was on the point of accepting, when an indefinable something 
 about the affair she can't tell what makes her suspicious ; per- 
 haps the guard was too clumsy ; perhaps Barnes too anxious ; per- 
 haps it was instinct ; but she is suspicious of something, she 
 doesn't know what, and declines. 
 
 " That is probably the biggest whopper my angel ever told," 
 is Barnes' conclusion, as he returns in his most persuasive manner, 
 *' But you are a little hungry ; now I think I can tempt you ! " 
 
 But here, a great rush of joy comes over the girl's face, and she 
 petrifies him with these amazing words : " I thank you again ; I 
 have just remembered / have plenty to eat/" 
 
 With this she picks up her bag, goes to the very bottom of it 
 and fishes out a white paper parcel that makes Barnes' jaw drop, 
 for it has evidenly come from a confectioner. 
 
 The poor fellow, at this moment, feels like throwing his unopen- 
 ed basket out of the window, as he reflects, " What an ass I was 
 to imagine a girl ever traveled without sweetmeats ; it's about the 
 same as guessing I'd run about without cigars in my pockets." 
 With this he feels for one, and in a melancholy way begins to 
 remember that there*is a smoking compartment, aad he has for- 
 gotten his weed for over eight hours all on account of this girl, 
 who would sooner starve than accept bread at his hands. 
 
 A rustling of the paper parcel comes from Miss Anstruther's 
 corner; he glances at her. She has opened the package that 
 apparently had been full of bonbons and is taking from it piece 
 after piece of crumpled white paper a look of amazed disappoint- 
 ment on her face. At last, she comes to the end, and draws out 
 two miserable gumdrops and a card with a word or two upon it. 
 The gumdrops go straight to her mouth, for even, in thi moment
 
 Mil. BARNES OF NEV, YORK. 59 
 
 of discomfiture, she is unable to resist such edible morsels. She 
 reads the card and exclaims viciously, "The little n'end !" then 
 gives one long, hopeless sigh that nearly ends in a sob, that makes 
 Barnes crazy to comfort her. But he tights it down, and, opening 
 his basket, goes to eating his j ate de Joie-gras with very good ap- 
 petite, for he now feels sure that Miss Anstruther will very soon 
 be eating it with him. 
 
 By the rather dim light of the car lamp he can see that the girl 
 is watching his evident enjoyment of the meal, with a sad, wistful 
 longing in her beautiful eyes, and Barnes rather savagely thinks, 
 *' she'll eat humble-pie before long i.e., pate defoiegras." After 
 a little she makes an effort to speak, then desperately checks her- 
 self, and a single silent tear rolls down her cheek. He can stand 
 it no longer ; gives her another chance, and does it generously. 
 
 " You'd better change your mind, Miss ; railroad traveling 
 makes one hungry. Won't you let me give you some of my 
 plenty ? " 
 
 " With pleasure ! " 
 
 "Then you are hungry 1 ?" cried Barnes. 
 
 " Awfully ! " she gasps, with a faint attempt at a laugh, and 
 the next instant she is in the land of plenty. She doesn't know 
 exactly how ; but it is, as if she had called on the genius of the 
 lamp a napkin is on her lap her plate is covered with every- 
 thing she seems most to like and want, and Mr. Barnes is acting 
 as the attendant spirit. She tells him so, and he laughingly re- 
 plies, " Then you must be little Aladdin ; but if I remember the 
 Arabian Nights, that little Chinese scamp would have rubbed his 
 lamp and been fed half an hour -ago ; don't you think it would 
 be more like it, to picture me as Aladdin, the guard as the genius, 
 and yourself as the princess of China, who was so haughtily 
 beautiful 1 " 
 
 Miss Anstruther blushes slightly at this audacious comparison. 
 She remembers the princess married Aladdin ; but says nothing, 
 as stimulated by enforced abstinence, she is devoting her pretty 
 mouth to the pleasures of gastronomy ; falling to, as Barries rap- 
 turously expresses it, with as much vigor as an angel after Lent. 
 
 " Of course, I've no tea or coffee to offer you," he apologizes, 
 " but a little Chablis will do you more good than all the slops on 
 earth ; you look quite pale ! " 
 
 And so the girl does, though her color is gradually corning back 
 to her. 
 
 " I fear I am robbing you ! " 
 
 " Oh ! I've plenty ! I ordered supper for two ! " he impulsively 
 says. 
 
 '"For two?" a little look of surprise on her face. Barnes
 
 60 MR. BARNES OF NEW VOUK. 
 
 bides his face in his basket, pretending to look for something 
 "Yes, two plates, two knives and forks, two wine-glasses how 
 very curious ! " 
 
 " I I've got such an awful appetite you see ! " he desperately 
 suggests. 
 
 " Then you'd better prove it," she laughs ; " you've eaten posi- 
 tively nothing ! " 
 
 And Barnes is compelled to sit down and do duty beside her, 
 which is very pleasant, as he has a very fair digestion himself. 
 As he hands her a glass of Burgundy, a wild rush of electricity 
 goes through him ; their hands have met accidentally for the first 
 time. The girl drinks, and whether it is the wine or something 
 else, her face has regained all its lost color. 
 
 There is something in the deference of his manner gives her 
 confidence in him ; and, as Enid Anstruther never does things by 
 halves, when he suggests champagne which he knows is gener- 
 ally a favorite with women she simply says, " I'll take anything 
 you wish me ! " 
 
 The grateful Barnes piles her plate with hot-house grapes, bon- 
 bons and little things men don't as a rule care for, but women 
 adore. 
 
 She looks at these effeminate delicacies meditatively and says, 
 " If this is your railway dinner, what a Sybarite you must be at 
 home ; one would think you had expected company ! " 
 
 The young man parries this dangerous thrust, by returning, 
 " You must be just the opposite ; you imagine you can make a 
 ten-hour journey on two small gumdrops." 
 
 " Oh ! that ci-uel disappointment," she says. " I can laugh 
 now, but half an hour ago I could have annihilated her. Maude 
 Chartris is, at twelve, a glutton and a practical joker. She got 
 into my bag, ate all my candy, replaced it by those paper balls 
 and left me her card." And she passes Barnes a square piece of 
 pasteboard that has upon it, in a child's hand, the following : 
 
 " This is to even us for your telling ma I had hanged it to the dmndalier 
 by its tale. You are a cat yourself. MAUD." 
 
 " A sweet child ! I adore her ! " says Barnes, who thinks of the 
 service the " enfant terrible " has done him. 
 
 " Indeed I don't and I'll show her mother this card, and '* 
 reaching for it. 
 
 " If you do," returns Mr. Barnes promptly, " I shall send Miss 
 Maud Chartris enough candy to keep her sick for a year. You'd 
 better let me destroy this ! " and without waiting for her answer 
 he tears up the card.
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 61 
 
 " You take n gr^it ':'>orty with my correspondence ! '' snys Miss 
 Anstruther, coloring. 
 
 " Admitted ! but think how grateful we both ought to be to 
 her. You would have made yourself sick on gumdrops, and I 
 should have been lonely and disconsolate over in that corner " 
 for he is sitting near the girl now " and all this has been changed 
 by the cat and that cherub ! Forgive the angelic child." 
 
 " An hour ago I could have made the angelic child very un- 
 happy, but now " she looks at the dainty fragments about her 
 " I'll forgive even Maud Chartris ! " Then, Miss Anstruther 
 turns the conversation deftly, giving Barnes opportunity to tell 
 who he is, of which he takes advantage in a manner that is per- 
 haps not too modest. 
 
 While he does so, the girl is looking at him in a dreamy way, 
 and thinking the man talking to her can't be such an awful dissi- 
 pated reprobate as Mrs. Vavassour thinks him ; for though he 
 knew the address of that fearful woman, La Belle Blackwood, still 
 he told a horrid fib because he was ashamed of it. And so Mr. 
 Barnes' two wrongs made one right, in the mind he wants most 
 to think well of him, as the train runs into Macon Junction ; 
 where fortune is waiting to again smile upon the enterprising 
 American. 
 
 Finding Miss Anstruther wants nothing, Barnes slips out to 
 the telegraph station and wires Paris for his servant and luggage ; 
 encounters the guard, who grins mysteriously at him, gives him 
 his twenty francs, and something more for the gargon who de- 
 stroyed his darling's hopes of dinner at Dijon ; directs him to get 
 him two railroad rugs, lights a cigar, and is back at the carriage 
 to find the young lady is not there. 
 
 He waits at the door for her. The guard brings the wraps and 
 places them in the compartment, and has hardly gone away, when 
 the girl, for whom the American has been straining his eyes in the 
 uncertain light of the station, comes hurriedly to him and says 
 under her breath in a somewhat perturbed manner, "Two men 
 are following me ! Wait till they pass ; and as they do, please 
 help me into the compartment as if you were my escort ! " 
 
 " Certainly ! " says Barnes. " Point out the scoundrels ! " 
 
 " Here they are ! " whispers the girl. He takes a long look at 
 the two men who are pursuing him, and assists the girl into the 
 car with the devotion of a honeymoon husband. 
 
 She blushes a little at this, but he checks any remark by 
 saying, " Now tell me what these men have said or done to 
 you ? " 
 
 " Nothing ! only I heard one of them remark to the other, 
 1 Keep your eye on the English girl ; she's less trouble than the
 
 62 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 male bird, and just as safe;' and then he gave a description of 
 me ! " 
 
 " The miserable scoundrel ! " mutters Barnes, who wonders to 
 himself what man can be villain enough to pursue and persecute 
 such a beautiful creature ; rather forgetting his own present occu- 
 pation. "Just let him give me a chance " 
 
 But any plots of vengeance are stopped by Miss Anstruther, 
 who says, " You must do nothing in this matter You see how I 
 am placed." 
 
 " Perfectly ! " 
 
 " I noticed you throw away a cigar, as you entered this car 
 please light another one I know how dear the habit is to your 
 sex." 
 
 " Not in your presence ! " says Barnes, with the self-denial of a 
 devotee ; for, even with her, a cigar would add a little to his bliss. 
 
 " I'm accustomed to it. My brother has educated me to like 
 smoke besides if those men saw you smoking they would be sure 
 you were my my brother!" says the girl with another little blush. 
 
 "Then on that ground only will I oblige you," and he lights up 
 with an attempted air of reluctance ; all the time thinking her 
 brother must be a chap of infinite common-sense, and that the girl 
 has been well grounded in one of the first great duties of wifehood. 
 
 After a little the young lady with a low sigh of contentment 
 goes to sleep. Barnes is delighted that she seems so confident in 
 his presence, that even the men who are following her have lost 
 all terror for her, as her rest is as quiet as that of a tired child. 
 A mass of her hair has fallen from its coils and trails down in 
 beautiful contrast to the cheek upon which it rests ; one little 
 hand supports her head, the other hangs within easy reach of 
 Barnes, who looks at it and wonders if it ever will be his. 
 
 When Miss Anstruther awakes she is astonished to find herself 
 carefully wrapped up in railroad rugs, and though the night is now 
 quite cold, she has slept very comfortably for almost two hours 
 and is in Lyons. She throws a grateful glance at the man who 
 cared for her so thoughtfully ; crying, " You had no overcoat 
 why didn't you keep one rug for yourself ? " 
 
 " I wasn't cold ! " After this Barnes keeps silent, knowing 
 that the girl will at Lyons find herself in a fearful dilemma, and 
 modestly waiting to be asked to help her out of it. 
 
 " I shall have to wait here almost an hour for Lady Chartris I 
 Will you take me to the waiting-room you have been so kind, 
 you don't mind my troubling you a little more?" 
 
 " Not at all ! " said Barnes, " but how will Lady Chartris get 
 here in another hour ? " 
 
 ' Why she must have left Paris on the twelve-twenty, one hour
 
 MR. BAKXE.S OF N'KW Y>UK. 6-5 
 
 boliind us. I've studied arithmetic, Mr. Barnes ! " remarks the 
 young lady laughing. 
 
 " But not the time table ! The twelve-twenty is a local which 
 lays over at Dijon, and does not arrive before to-morrow morning,'' 
 and he shows her the schedule in the Railroad Guide. 
 
 " But there must be some express, some train that comes 
 sooner ! " 
 
 " Yes ! the seven-twenty, due here about four a.m. That's the 
 j arliest to arrive ; you'll have either six hours in Lyons, or no 
 Lady Chartris ! " 
 
 " Six hours here ! Alone ! At night ! And then those awful 
 men ! " The first three of these are gasps of dismay ; the last a. 
 whisper of horror. 
 
 The guard here opens the door and says " A telegram ! " hand- 
 ing Miss Anstruther a dispatch. 
 
 The girl pounces upon and bolts this message, and it seems to 
 crush her, for she exclaims piteously, " Good Heavens ! What 
 a m I to do 1 " 
 
 This is not addressed to Barnes, but to Providence ; but that 
 gentleman takes upon himself to answer for them both. " Just 
 explain exactly what you want and I'll do it for you." 
 
 She darts upon him a grateful look and then addresses him, 
 " My brother is an officer in the English navy. For two years I 
 have not seen him ! His vessel is now at Nice ; but will, at the 
 most, remain there but two days longer. Lady Chartris has. 
 missed our train and now telegraphs me, she doesn't like night 
 travel, and will not leave Paris till to-morrow. If I wait for her 
 I shall probably miss my brother ; what am I to do 1 " 
 
 " Why, go on to Nice by yourself, of course ! " says Barnes. 
 
 " But I can't Lady Chartris is a stupid, selfish old woman, 
 who thinks of nothing but herself and her children. My ticket 
 is only to Lyens. 1 have my letter of credit with me, but not" 
 a slight hesitation " not enough money to go on, as no banks 
 are open and I am unknown will you lend me five pounds on ' 
 here she blushes red, and Barnes blushes also as he sees her hand 
 go to a diamond ring on her finger " on my honor f " she says- 
 suddenly and proudly, " I am Enid Anstruther ! " and she thrusts 
 her card into his hand. 
 
 " This stroke of fortune takes Barnes' breath away, but he man- 
 ages to pull himself together and says, bowing, " Miss Anstruther, 
 you can have a hundred pounds if you like, and I can get them ; 
 but anyway, you'd better take ten ; you may find travelling more 
 expensive than you expect ! " and he gives her the money. '' Only 
 please don't thank me ! " for the girl is about to express herself 
 very warmly.
 
 61 MR. BAHXES OF NK\V YoRK. 
 
 " Now I'll get you ;i sleeping-berth ! " Ho goes to the office and 
 discovers that all are engaged, conies back, gives her the dismal 
 intelligence, and after a moment's pause says, " Do two hours more 
 or less make much difference to you at Nice?" 
 
 " No, not a great deal ! " replies Miss Anstruther consideringly. 
 
 "Then you'd better go to the hotel here, get a good sleep, and 
 leave on the four a.m. train," he suggests ; for he do< s not want 
 his darling's beauty or comfort affected by her knocking about all 
 night in a crowded carriage, and he can seethe train will be a full 
 one. " I am going on that one myself ! " 
 
 " Oh ! to Nice ? " This is an expression of sudden joy from 
 Miss Anstruther. 
 
 " If you like, I will make all the arrangements for you ! " 
 
 u Will you 1 " her eyes beam in gratitude. 
 
 Upon this, he helps her from the car and says, " Do you prefer 
 to walk or ride ? It is not a great distance to the Hotel de 1'Eu- 
 rope." 
 
 "Which ever you please ! 
 
 " A little exercise will be best, after the confinement of the 
 train you have perfect confidence in me ? " continues Barnes. 
 
 The girl's eyes look straight into his for a moment, then sne 
 says, " Entire ! Do what you think best for me ! " and places her 
 arm in his as trustfully as if she had known him all her life. 
 
 During the short walk to the hotel, Barnes is in Heaven ; but 
 Miss Anstruther is a vigorous pedestrian, and this joy is fleeting. 
 Arrived there, the young lady is shown into the ladies' parlor, and 
 he goes to make the arrangements for her. A few moments after 
 a neat French maid shows her to her apartments, the windows of 
 which overlook the Bellecour. which is beautiful in the moonlight. 
 In her parlor a cosy fire is burning brightly, and an appetizing 
 supper is on the table. The maid whispers to her, " The gentle- 
 man said I was to come and help you dress at half-past three in 
 the morning, at four a carriage will be here, to take you to the 
 train." 
 
 " And the gentleman 1 " says Miss Anstruther rather eagerly. 
 
 " He left the hotel ten minutes ! " is the reply, " but said I was 
 to do everything for you, and was very generous? " 
 
 Enid Anstruther, tired as she is, sits meditating half an hour 
 before the tire that night. There is a tender look in her eyes, 
 though her thoughts are not altogether sad, and perhaps Barnes 
 has done a better day's work than even he thinks he has. 
 
 As for that gentleman, he goes back toward the railroad station 
 and takes a room at the Hotel de 1'Universe. As he takes off his 
 clothes he looks at the glass and wonders if he is the same Mr. 
 Barnes that he saw dress in the morning. A fever is in his veins ;
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 65 
 
 he has seen strong men stricken down by the disease before. He 
 knows what is the matter with him ; he has found the one great 
 passion of his life. But desperate as is the malady, he would not 
 be without it for the whole world. Thinking this, he fishes his 
 divinity's card out of his pocket that he may do a little more wor- 
 shiping, and for the first time reads her name. 
 
 " Enid Agnes Anstruther, Beech wood Towers, Hants., Eng- 
 land." The word Anstruther, as seen on paper, seems strangely 
 familiar to him, Have I ever met her brother, he cogitates ; and 
 after a moment gives a prolonged whistle of surprise, muttering 
 " By George ! That would be a wild go ! " 
 
 And though he turns in, very shortly, and goes to sleep, like a 
 man of sense, he awakens with a fixed idea in his mind, that is, 
 to learn as soon as possible everything in regard to Miss Anstru- 
 ther's brother. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 WILL GOD NEVER GIVE HIM TO ME. 
 
 Miss ANSTRUTHER is aroused the next morning by the French 
 maid-servant who assists her to dress and makes her comfortable 
 with a cup of tea ; and, when she i$teps from the carriage at the 
 Lyons Railway, finds Mr. Barnes waiting to help her out. 
 
 " You're not to trouble yourself about anything from here to 
 Nice ; I am your courier," he says in answer to the grateful glance 
 and bright "Good-morning" of the girl. 
 
 He takes her to a compartment, tenderly wraps her up in a 
 lot of railroad rugs that the guard brings warmed from the 
 waiting-room fire, and, with a slight air of proprietorship that 
 makes her blush a little, says: "You're to go to sleep and not 
 wake up till Avignon, at eight ; and then I've some good news 
 for you !" 
 
 " Good news !" Tell me now !" 
 
 " And have you stay awake from happiness ? No good news 
 till eight !" 
 
 The girl laughs a little and says, " Please ?" pleadingly. 
 
 But Barnes checks her by, " If you don't go to sleep, no good 
 news till Marseilles, at eleven !" affecting great firmness of 
 manner. 
 
 At this, she falls to meditating on the curious fact that though 
 many men have bowed down to and worshiped her before ; here 
 (5J
 
 66 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 is the first one who dominates her ; then wonders how it is that 
 she rather likes it, and so, after a little, goes to sleep. 
 
 When she awakes it is daylight, and the sun is shining brightly 
 upon the waters of the Rhone, that flows towards the sea beside 
 them. She looks at Mr. Barnes who is seated opposite, appar- 
 ently deep in an English magazine, and says with a little re- 
 bellious moue, " Is it eight o'clock ? Can I awake now, tyrant ?" 
 
 " Not for five minutes ?" replies Barnes in attempted sternness, 
 " I'll live up to my title !" He knows that the name she has 
 called him gives more hope and promise for the future, than if 
 she had accepted the tenderest devotion from him as a slave. It 
 is the first really familiar appellation she has given him, and it 
 makes him desperately happy. 
 
 A little while after he says, " We shall be in Avignon soon : 
 you look as if you had rest enough and so I'll talk to you!" 
 
 " Then tell me the good news !" 
 
 " The joyful tidings are, that you are no longer a young lady 
 without maid or baggage !" 
 
 "My trunks! Here 1 ?" A little cry of joy, and Miss An- 
 struther starts up radiant with excitement. 
 
 " Yes ; Lady Chartris sent your maid and wardrobe by the 
 seven-twenty express. 
 
 As soon as they arrive at Avignon, Mr. Barnes brings her 
 servant, a red-cheeked, valuable dumpling of an English girl, 
 who looks with amazed eyes at this man she has never seen 
 before ; but, who confidentlj| directs her and evidently expects 
 her to obey him. She has a bag with her, that Miss Anstruther 
 apparently thinks valuable, as she gives it a most tender glance. 
 
 Barnes wisely leaves mistress and maid together, returning, 
 however, with coffee and rolls for both, as he has an idea that 
 servants have appetites as well as other people. 
 
 This thoughtful attention makes the Abigail his slave, at once ; 
 she metaphorically goes down on her chubby knees to him, wor- 
 ships at his shrine, and says to her mistress, " Lawks ! Miss Enid, 
 what a gentleman ! He's such a rusher. He came to me at 
 Lyons this morning and says, ' You're Miss Anstruther's maid V 
 'That I am,' says I. The next instant, he has me out of that 
 coach, and your luggage in front of me, and says, ' Get every- 
 thing that your mistress will need on the train to-day and put it 
 in one bag !' and no more had I done so, than he puts me back in 
 my carriage again and says, ' You'll not be .wanted till eight 
 o'clock, and then be sharp !' He ordered things about as he 
 might have been your your " 
 
 " Yes ; all Americans are curious !" Miss Anstruther cuts in. 
 
 "Arn't they ?" replies the maid, "and liberal too ; he gave me
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 67 
 
 a sovereign, and now he takes care of my victuals, and manages 
 for you just like he was agoing to be your 
 
 " Hush, Thompson !" says her mistress very sharply, " I some- 
 times let you take liberties with me, but never with my friends !" 
 And having crushed her handmaid with this remark, the young 
 lady turns to the gentleman under discussion, as he places his- 
 head in the window and hands her a 'hunch of fresh rosebuds,, 
 duplicates of the ones she had worn the day before. 
 
 " My favourites !" laughs the girl ; " how did you guess ?" giving 
 him a look of approval as he exclaims, " You may wish to give 
 some instructions to your maid, so I shall hardly see you till Mar- 
 seilles. I have telegraphed for breakfast there. No more 
 accidental starvation on your part ; if it happened again you. 
 would blame me for it, now !" 
 
 And he turns away towards the smoking-car, to take a day- 
 dream behind a cigar. Here he sees, opposite to him, the two 
 men the girl had pointed out the evening before. They, appar- 
 ently, do not wish to attract his attention ; and at the first stop- 
 page change their compartment. Barnes gives little heed to 
 them. He thinks, possibly, Miss Anstruther mistook their con- 
 versation ; as they look rather innocent bourgeois ; at all events, 
 he is with her, and he'll back himself against the two men any 
 time. Thus they move down the beautiful Rhone among its vine- 
 yard hills and olive plantations , and then, crossing the country, 
 run into Marseilles. 
 
 On going to Miss Anstruther to take her to breakfast, he finds 
 that, by some inexplicable feminine process, that young lady has 
 got rid of all the general languor and dilapidation, incidental to 
 a long railway journey ; and, with the fresh rosebuds pinned on 
 her bosom, is as bright, fresh and dainty as when he first saw her 
 in the Salon the morning before. 
 
 He astonishes the maid by telling her she is to breakfast with 
 her mistress ; for this is a case, in which he feels the proprieties 
 must be carefully preserved ; and very shortly has the pleasure of 
 seating his divinity before as luxurious a meal, both in menu and 
 attendance, as she can well imagine. 
 
 They make a merry party of it, for the girl is in the highest 
 spirits ; and Mr. Barnes, metaphorically is enjoying nectar and 
 ambrosia and has his pet goddess beside him. 
 
 But they are soon en route again ; and, now that the young 
 lady is thoroughly at ease mentally and physically, the Ameri.-an 
 thinking the time has arrived to get what information he desires 
 about her brother, turns the conversation towards her family. 
 Miss Anstruther, from behind the Sphinx of yesterday, is now a 
 perfect oracle of information as regards its past, present and
 
 68 Mil. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 future. She tells him, with many little details of interest, tlmt 
 her lather and mother are both dead and she has two brothers 
 now living ! One, the youngest, a school-boy at Harrow ; the 
 other, who is older than herself, a lieutenant in the British navy, 
 who only awaits his promotion to the rank of commander, to 
 resign from the service and come to the family estates, to be an 
 English country gentleman, as his ancestors have been before 
 him, for many a generation. 
 
 " When he became a sailor, of course, he was not the heir ; but 
 Harold died years ago and Edwin reigns in his stead. I have 
 made up my mind just what his future is to be," says the girl. 
 " Indeed !" Let us hope you have given him a happy fate ! " 
 " He is to marry some nice English girl of his own rank and 
 l>e the Squire of Beechwood ; and, perhaps, when that horrid old 
 clestructionist Gladstone goes out of power, represent our county 
 in Parliament. It was honor enough for his father and it should 
 be for him ! " 
 
 " Must the young lady be English ? " asks Barnes. 
 " Certainly ! " I don't like foreigners ! " 
 
 " Do you class Americans as foreigners ? " A tinge ot anxiety 
 is in his voice. 
 
 " For marrying purposes, for my brother, yes ! I want his 
 wife to have no thought out of England, which must be her 
 home." 
 
 " And for yourself, I suppose nothing but English also 1 " 
 " Oh ! I ! I shall marry the man I love whoever he is ! " 
 says Miss Anstruther, and she begins to play with the flowers in 
 her bosom then suddenly says, " You Americans are a curious 
 people ; do you always travel without any luggage ? " 
 
 This is turning the conversation into the wrong channel for 
 Barnes, who has not so much as a hand-satchel with him, is even 
 minus an overcoat, and has been compelled this morning to seek 
 variety of toilet by arranging his necktie in another manner, and 
 cleanliness by reversing his cuffs. 
 
 " No ! " he says slowly, " I sometimes carry a cane on long 
 trips ; but I was called to Nice suddenly ; telegram, business im- 
 portant !" 
 
 "Well, you do very nicely without luggage," says Miss Anstru- 
 ther, " so forgive my impertinent question ! " After this she goes 
 back to her brother again, sings his praises ; how he was wounded 
 in Egypt and was nursed in the hospital by a beautiful Italian 
 girl, and, when he got well, wrote some wild romantic letters about 
 her that frightened her for fear he would return with a foreign 
 bride. Then tells what a coming home his will be. How Beech- 
 wood Towers, their country-seat will make it a gala day, " And so
 
 MR. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 69 
 
 will dear old Hampshire itself ! " says the girl, her face glowing 
 with the thought, " for the county loves our family, and is proud 
 of Edwin too ; he won the Victoria Cross in Egypt." 
 
 " Has he served on many ships 1 " suggests Barnes. 
 
 "Oh, yes! oceans of them; the 'Monarch,' the 'Topaz,' the 
 ' Cleopatra,' but now Gerard is upon the ' Sealark ! ' " 
 
 " Gerard ? " Barnes is much interested. 
 
 ""Yes, I sometimes call him by his second name. My brother 
 is Edwin Gerard Anstruther, V.C., and we are all very proud of 
 him and love him very much, and so will you when you know him, 
 which I hope will be this evening." 
 
 " Was he ever in the ' Vulture 1 ' " asks the American. 
 
 " No I think not." 
 
 Here the maid, whom they have both forgotten, puts in her word 
 and says, " Asking your pardon, Miss Enid, I once carried a letter 
 up to your room with ' Vulture ' or ' Heagle ' printed on the hen- 
 velope." 
 
 " Oh ! of course ! Much obliged, Tompson," continues Miss 
 Anstruther. " He went out to join his ship, which was in Egypt, 
 as a passenger, by the ' Vulture.' He wrote me twice on board 
 her ; from Malta, and from what's that little place where the 
 people kill each other, and Bonaparte was born 1 " 
 
 " Ajaccio ! " 
 
 " That's the name ! " 
 
 " I should like to see your brother this evening , I rather think 
 we have met before," says Barnes seriously. 
 
 " I'm glad of that ! " The girl's eyes show that she means 
 what she says, and Barnes goes into a brown study, for he knows 
 the name on the ship's pistol is that of Miss Anstruther's brother, 
 and that he must be told some unpleasant and unexpected news 
 that evening, and given a decided caution. " In fact," thinks 
 Barnes, " the sooner Edwin gets out of this part of the world, the 
 better. I hardly imagine the Vendetta would flourish in matter- 
 of-fact England. I admire Marina, but don't want any Corsican 
 nonsense, and in affairs of this kind a chap must stand by*his 
 family ! " With this he glances at the beauty opposite to him, as 
 if he owned her, and imagines how the fellows in New York will 
 envy him ; thinks he will again see if Enid will recognize him as 
 the Barnes of the picture, and attempts to assume the attitude of 
 horror and the look of sympathy of the canvas. 
 
 This has an unexpected effect on the two women. Miss Anstru- 
 ther seems to choke in an endeavor to restrain her laughter, while 
 the maid in an anxious voice exclaims, ' ' Mercy, sir, are you very 
 ill?" 
 
 " No ? " says Barnes sulkily, " but it's hot and my my collar 
 is tight ! "
 
 70 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 "Oh, is that all?" replies the young lady. "You looked in 
 such agony, I feared it was tight boots ! " She gives a little laugh, 
 and Barnes thinks himself a romantic fool. 
 
 Seeing his best game is himself and not his picture, (which he 
 concludes must be " a cursed bad likeness"), the young man devotes 
 himself to making the day pass pleasantly, and succeeds. Every 
 want of his charge is provided for, in advance, with the fore- 
 thought of experience, and the power of a long purse ; and when 
 the pleasant railway journey across southern France, with its 
 orange groves here and there, fleeting views of the Mediterranean, 
 and glimpses of tropical vegetation that make it so picturesque, is 
 finished, and the girl stands on the platform of the station at Nice, 
 tears of gratitude are in her eyes and a blush is on her face, as 
 she says, eagerly extending her hand, " You have been awfully 
 kind; you have changed what would have been a terrible journey, 
 for me, into the most delightful trip I've ever had ; every dilemma, 
 every disaster, in your hands, became a pleasure to me." 
 
 " Even the loss of your dinner ! " laughs Barnes, seizing her 
 hand and giving it a tender pressure ; and then blushing himself, 
 for he imagines, it is returned very slightly. 
 
 " Yes, even the loss of my dinner. Do you know I once 
 guessed that you had something to do with that guard's stupi- 
 dity ? " 
 
 " Great goodness, why did you imagine that 1 " 
 
 " Because you looked so pleased when I had only two gumdrops 
 to eat," says Miss Anstruther, as he puts her and her maid into a 
 cab and tells the driver Hotel de Anglais ; for that's where his 
 divinity is to stay. 
 
 After he had seen the last of her, he goes to the Hotel de la 
 Mediterranee in a melancholy way ; for, with her departure, he 
 feels as if something had gone out of his life, is lonely and depres- 
 sed and has his first fit of amatory blues, a peculiar disease that 
 makes him curse the waiter for he thinks his dinner is bad 
 when it is only that Enid Anstruther is not beside him, eating it 
 alsrf 
 
 About eight o'clock, he meditates : "She said she wished me 
 to meet her brother this evening ; strange she does not send for 
 me. She can hardly expect me to intrude upon her when it is 
 their first evening together for two years ; but of course she'll think 
 of nothing but him to-night." He jumps up and strolls past the 
 Hotel des Anglais into the public gardens, hoping to catch a 
 glimpse of his goddess at some window. Not succeeding in this lie 
 i tegins to get jealous of her brother for keeping her from him ; and, 
 working himself up into a dangerous temper, looks ahout for some- 
 body to \vnt it upon ; and to his joy, finds one to Ins hand.
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 71 
 
 Barnes has just turned back in the gardens, after many fruitless 
 glances at the windows of the des Anglais. As he does this rather 
 suddenly, it brings him face to face with one of the men Miss An- 
 struther pointed out as following her. This person is now appar- 
 ently dogging his footsteps. His temper breaks out in a moment ; 
 striding up to the offender- he hisses under his breath : " You 
 miserable snake ! " and, before the man knows what is to happen 
 to him, he finds himself knocked out of time and flung aside off the 
 walk into a thicket of rose-bushes that seem to him all thorns and 
 no flowers. In a moment, the Frenchman struggles from them, 
 and after several deep curses between his clenched teeth, mutters : 
 " You miserable Anglais, there are others who will avenge me 
 your days are numbered ! " 
 
 This is unheard by Barnes, who, feeling he has made a fool of 
 himself, doesn't wait for explanations but continues his walk to 
 his hotel, where he goes to bed in a very glum sort of way. A 
 bad ending to a very pleasant day, but such are the ups and downs 
 of passion. 
 
 The next morning, however, hope and confidence have returned 
 to him. After dressing as elaborately as he can on one suit of 
 clothes making variety of costume by a new necktie and fresh 
 linen he had purchased the evening before, he wanders out to the 
 Hotel des Anglais and breakfasts, there, hoping in some way to 
 get a glimpse of the face for which he now hungers ; but is disap- 
 pointed and goes to smoke his cigar in the gardens, taking a posi- 
 tion that commands the hotel. At one time he thinks he sees her 
 at a window, but soon discovers he had been complimenting a 
 chambermaid by mistaking her for his enchantress. This lias 
 scarcely happened when even Miss Anstruther is knocked out of 
 his head by what comes to him through some neighboring shrub- 
 bery. 
 
 " Then we have found him at last ! " says a feminine voice, that 
 in its intense passion takes him back to the death scene at 
 Ajaccio. 
 
 "Undoubtedly, Mademoiselle, he was greatly agitated at the 
 picture ; he followed an English girl here ; I heard them speak of 
 the navy. These marks on my face prove him to be of that brutal 
 nation ! " This last comes from a man. 
 
 " Yes," says the female voice again, " he struck my brother in 
 the same cruel manner ; his blow was on Antonio's face when he 
 died. You will point him out to Tomasso and me on the prome- 
 nade des Anglais to-day. His hotel, you say is La Mediterranee. 
 What is his name ? " 
 
 " He refused to give it to us in Paris at the Salon. Last night 
 J would have looked at the hotel register ; but after he assaulted-
 
 72 MR. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 
 
 me I knew he was on his guard, and very dangerous, and so I did 
 not dare to ask." 
 
 " Then meet me at two o'clock if your report is true, I will 
 make you rich ! " says the lady. 
 
 The man walks away, and has hardly passed out of sight, when 
 Barnes, turning the corner of the shrubbery, finds himself in the 
 presence of a young girl who is dressed in deep black, and who 
 raises her head and gives a little cry as she sees him. Old Tom- 
 asso is standing a short distance behind with a look of longing joy 
 in his expressive old face. 
 
 " Mademoiselle Paoli," says the American, raising his hat, " I 
 am very happy to see you in Nice ! " 
 
 The girl seems staggered with surprise for a moment ; but 
 finally articulates, " It is Mr. Barnes, is it not? I am very glad 
 to see you you were kind to him. Tomasso, this is the good 
 gentleman who tried to save my brother you remember ! " 
 
 The old Corsican only nods his head, but his gaze is kindly. 
 
 "You have not been here long?" suggests Barnes. 
 
 " No ! only this morning. 
 
 " And come ? " 
 
 " For pleasure ! " To-day is the first time for a year that I am 
 happy ! " cries the girl with a peculiar laugh. 
 
 " I never like to spoil sport," echoes Barnes, in grim humor, 
 " but I am afraid you will be disappointed. I can tell you the 
 man who will be pointed out to you as the slayer of your 
 brother ! " 
 
 " Ah who ? " Marina is a picture of joy. 
 
 " It will be me ! " 
 
 "You !" she gasps, "You! They have been following you? 
 *' Will God never give him to me ! " 
 
 Tomasso has not spoken till now, but he mutters, " Some day ! 
 and then ! " here the old man's countenance takes an expression 
 that makes the American think of the man-eating tiger of India, 
 whose face is the incarnation of the desire to kill. He turns to 
 Marina and says, " I have something to say to you from your 
 brother, a message from the dead ; when can I deliver it ? " 
 
 The girl looks at him with a white face and answers, " To-day 
 at any time Hotel Sebastian I " 
 
 And, as Mr. Barnes leaves her, she puts her head between her 
 hands and sobs bitter tears of disappointment, the old Corsican 
 trying to comfort her in vain.
 
 MR. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 73 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE ANGEL OF THE EGYPTIAN HOSPITAL. 
 
 THE Hotel Sebastian is on one of the out-of-the-way streets of 
 Nice, and far from the fashionable quarter. It is little more than 
 a boarding-house, though it has a dingy office and small billiard- 
 room with dirty tables and worn-out cushions. A mixture of 
 Italians, Spaniards and Sicilians patronize the house ; English or 
 Americans are never seen there. To this place Mr. Barnes goes 
 early in the afternoon and sends his card by a slovenly Italian 
 servant-girl to Mademoiselle Paoli. As he is about to go up, 
 Count Musso Danella comes hurriedly down stairs, and taking 
 him by the arm, says, " My dear Barnes ! " and shakes his hand. 
 " Old comrade, it seems long since we shot moufflon together 
 in Corsica ! " 
 
 This is rather effusive and affectionate for Danella, who is 
 generally self-contained and contemplative in his manner, and 
 is a surprise for the American, who rejoins, " Hello, Musso ! old 
 boy ! you here 1 ? Thought you wouldn't be far off when I saw 
 Mademoiselle Paoli this morning ! " 
 
 In truth, he is surprised very much to see the girl's guardian 
 here ; for, he knows Danella, though a Corsican, is a man of the 
 world, and hardly imagines he will permit Marina to run about 
 France with a romantic idea of revenge and murder in her brain 
 that may some day bring her fair young neck, that he knows is 
 very dear to Musso, dangerously near the guillotine. 
 
 " Yes," says the Count, growing serious, and drawing him into 
 a room that is evidently his own, as he locks the door and offers 
 Barnes a chair, " / brought Marina here ! " 
 
 " What ! and knew her errand ? " 
 
 " Precisely." 
 
 " That she was in pursuit of the man who killed her brother with 
 the purpose of murdering him ! " 
 
 " Precisely," says Musso who seems to have grown younger 
 in the time since Barnes saw him an expectant happiness 
 being on his face that smoothes out several wrinkles that his gay 
 bachelorhood in Paris has brought him with his forty years of 
 life. 
 
 "And you are a sane man and permit the girl, whose only 
 counsellor you are, to throw away her glorious beauty and her
 
 74 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 young life on a chimera of vengeance that might be accounted 
 romantic in the age of the Borgias, but to-day means the executioner 
 or the jailor and yet you pretend to love her ? " Barnes' face 
 has a rather disagreeable sneer upon it, which changes to a look of 
 amazed horror as Danella's reply comes to him, and his mind 
 grasps its cruel significance and insidious import. 
 
 " It is because I love her that I aid her ! At first I merely 
 pretended to assist her to find the man who had murdered her 
 brother; thinking that it was only a girl's whim, and would pass away 
 from her like a foolish fancy of childhood. Soon, I discovered my 
 mistake, that her resolve and steadfastness was that of a woman 
 who had made a righteous vengeance the governing motive of her 
 existence. After a time I saw. she began to doubt the sincerity 
 of my assistance ; and hated and detested my God ! me ! the 
 man who loved her ! she ran away to Egypt without me, and if 
 I had not followed her, might have forgotten her oath and me ! " 
 the Count looks very gloomy but continues, " I arrived in time 
 to prevent that. And then I made a compact with her that when 
 I found for her the man she sought, and hate was satisfied, that 
 love should begin and she should marry me, who had given to her 
 vengeance." 
 
 " And she consented to sell herself for your assistance 1 " 
 
 " Not at first," says the Count, with suppressed sigh, " but 
 after a struggle she said yes ! She does not love me now she 
 can love no man now but when she has no longer her oath upon 
 her, then she will turn to the one being who loves her well enough 
 to take her even with a murder on her soul," and his delicate face 
 becomes bright with a dream of future passion. 
 
 " But you forget this is the nineteenth century ; and the execu- 
 tioner will have a prior claim upon your bride; in fact, you, 
 yourself, Danella, as accessory before the fact, will stand a very 
 good chance of a rather long imprisonment; and, with your luxuri- 
 ous habits, I shouldn't think convict life would be a very pleasant 
 prospect." Barnes imagines he has knocked the Count's plans 
 into chaos. 
 
 " Bah ! " says the latter, " In England, yes ! But in that case 
 I should contrive that old Tomasso, who hates, with all a Corsi- 
 can's fervor, should do the active work in the matter. But if we 
 find him in France No ! no French jury would ever, under 
 these romantic circumstances, convict a girl of Marina's beauty of 
 murder. At the worst, she would not be imprisoned more than a 
 year or so. The press would most likely make her a martyr ; and 
 the public, her cell a bower of roses. But if we can lure him to 
 Corsica and kill him there, Marina Paoli will be blessed by a 
 native jury as the guardian angel of her brother's tomb."
 
 MB. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 75 
 
 Barnes casts a mental eye over the latest French criminal juris- 
 prudence, and concludes the Count has very good reasons for his 
 statements ; then quietly remarks, " I should judge your victim 
 had better remain in England ? " 
 
 " He will be safer there but the world is small ! " says the 
 Count. 
 
 " And now," replies Barnes, " how is it you" dare to make me a 
 party to your crime by telling me your plan ? " 
 
 " Because you told her," here the Count indicates Marina by a 
 gesture of his hand, " that you had a message from the dead to 
 deliver to her. It is to ask you if it tends to turn her from 
 her purpose not to give it. You are my friend my whole soul 
 has but one desire to gain her ; and my only hope of winning 
 Marina Paoli is through her longing for revenge." 
 
 After a pause of eonteinptlation Mr. Barnes says calmly, " I 
 shall report this matter to the authorities and so prevent your 
 mad plan bringing danger to the English officer ! " 
 
 " I considered the matter very carefully before I spoke to you, 
 and do not think you will ! " remarks the Count, confidently. 
 "And you suppose that I will be an accessory to your crime?" 
 " Not at all, in a strictly legal sense," is the reply, " but at 
 present, at least, you will say nothing You are in love with 
 an English girl Miss Anstruther very much in love. You need 
 not start so you adore her, my dear boy ! You have followed her 
 to Nice. She was alone all one night on the railway, and at Lyons 
 you confessed to the guard you were epris with her ; persuaded her 
 to lay over at Lyons, and took her in person to the Hotel de 
 la Europe ! " 
 
 " What do you mean ?" says Barnes in a hoarse voice, and with 
 a very dangerous look on his face, for within him is the passion of 
 Cain. 
 
 " Nothing derogatory to the young lady's character, for which 
 I have the highest esteem ; but I want you to have the same con- 
 sideration for it ; and if you should make any declarations to the 
 authorities in regard to Marina or myself, the private detectives 
 that we employ and who dogged every step of your way from 
 Paris to Nice, must go on the stand. Their evidence could hardly 
 he pleasant to Miss Anstruther. There is nothing you Anglo- 
 Saxon Puritans fear so much as scandal ; and one would lose her 
 to you forever ; therefore I am persuaded you will say nothing, 
 <y den;- friend." 
 
 Barnes thinks this over and knows that the Count is right. 
 
 " Nevertheless," he says, " I shall speak to Mademoiselle Paoli." 
 
 " Certainly, if you insist," returns Musso, with a gracious bow, 
 
 unlocking the door. " Nothing you can tell her, I am confident,
 
 76 MR. BAKNES OF NEW YOKK. 
 
 will ever change Marina from her purpose." and he laughs a little 
 silvery laugh that is not becoming in him, and calls out after the 
 American, "Au revoir, old comrade ; run over and have a game 
 of Baccarat this evening." 
 
 " I have other business, thank you," says Barnes. 
 " Ah, I see ! Love's young dream ! third door to the right, 
 first floor?" follows him in Danella's soft Franco-Italian voice, as 
 he goes up stairs to meet Marina. 
 
 The Count steps back to his room in great apparent good 
 humor, and looks at a memorandum from the detectives who hav< 
 followed Barnes. He reads it over and wonders what that gen 
 tlemen and the young English girl had to interest them in tht 
 English navy. Meditating - upon this, he remembers that Miss 
 Anstruther herself had been curiously impressed by the picture 
 of the duel ; and after turning the matter over in his mind, ho 
 goes out for a walk ; and chancing to wander down to the harbor 
 and the Hotel des Anglais, asks some rather pertinent questions, 
 and obtains some interesting information which sets him to think 
 ing deeply ; and in the end produces peculiar results, for Muss< 
 Danella reasons on the Italian principles of Machiavelli, whici 
 are derived direct from Satan himself. 
 
 Barnes takes the Count's advice, as regards directions ; and tin 
 door is opened for him by Marina himself. She is still in deep 
 black ; in fact she never wore anything but mourning, from the 
 day of her brother's death until some time after this the great 
 change came into her mind. Her figure, that the close-fitting 
 dress displays in a series of curves of beauty, is perhaps a little- 
 fuller and more rounded than a year ago. If so, it has lost no 
 charm of grace or suppleness. Her face has a tinge of suppressed 
 sadness upon its mobile features, save when some wave of varying 
 passion sweeps across it, and then it is the impersonation of that 
 passion itself, without a trace of any other to weaken its intensity. 
 As Barnes confronts her he notices the superb vigor of her man 
 ner and excitable changes of her emotion. 
 
 ' Ah ! " she cries, " at last ! I have waited for you ! you have 
 for me the last words of my brother No ! / have his last his 
 cry of welcome to me Marina ! that was all for me that was 
 his adieu to earth, was it not 1. " The question at the end is asked 
 in pathetic sadness in complete contrast to the excited rapidity 
 of her first exclamations. 
 
 " It was ! " replies Barnes softly. 
 
 " But his other words, the message from the dead and you did 
 not tell it to me before long ago you could let a sister wait 1 * 
 " When I left Corsica, Mademoiselle, you were delirious from 
 brain fever and would not have understood me."
 
 MR. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 77 
 
 " True ! " the girl says slowly and then suddenly, " Forgive 
 me. The cruel disappointment of to-day has made me thought- 
 less ; but to have sought that assassin, for one long year, day by 
 day and night by night over half the world and never found him 
 and this morning when I was blessing God for having given 
 him to my hand to again find nothing nothing ! NO- 
 THING ! ! " In an ecstacy of disappointment the girl throws 
 herself upon a chair, and after a moment makes an effort and says 
 to Barnes, who has been watching her in silence, "You cannot 
 understand ; you are of a race that thinks and does not feel ; be 
 thankful that Heaven has blessed you with no heart, only a 
 brain ! " 
 
 " But you have not heard the message I bring. It may temper 
 your disappointment ! " 
 
 " Then don't give it to me now ! It is what I feared ! I for- 
 bid you to say it now ! First see what I have done How faith- 
 fully I have struggled to perform my oath How I have labored 
 to find the man upon whom my hand shall fall then if you think 
 that even Antonio's words could change the consecration of my 
 life, deliver my brother's message ! " This last she speaks as if 
 inspired, but not from God ; and, as Barnes does not answer her, 
 brings him a large book of memoranda compiled with the system 
 and accuracy of a detective, showing, that with all her hate, her 
 pursuit has been carried out with a logic that indicates some 
 subtle mind has been brought to bear upon the matter. Barnes 
 concludes wisely that it is that of Musso Danella. He is delighted 
 to have the opportunity of studying her investigations, as it may 
 help him to judge if Enid's brother is in immediate danger of dis- 
 covery. The first document before him is, 
 
 LIST OF OFFICERS. 
 H.M.S. VULTDRB, 1882. 
 
 John Lenox Ward, Commander. 
 Henry Lawson, \ 
 
 T. Edgerton Reede, 
 
 Walter Montrose Phillips, V laeutenantt. 
 
 Nelson Trowdridge, 
 The Hon. Mathew Lennox Haye, } 
 George Hodspur, Navigating Lieutenant. 
 Thomas F. Fearing, Chief Engineer. 
 Mortimer N. Douglas, Paymaster. 
 Wellington Elenwood, Surgeon. 
 Arthur William Herrick, Assistant Engineer. 
 
 And then follow the names of about eight midshipmen, junior 
 engineers, etc. 
 
 " That list was obtained from the office of the British Adniir-
 
 78 MR. BAENES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 alty," says the girl, " and is absolutely correct, like other official 
 statistics." 
 
 Barnes notes here to himself that Edwin Anstruther joined the 
 "Vulture" at Gibraltar as a supernumerary, consequently his name 
 does not appear on the list sent from England, and now knows 
 how Marina has failed to discover him. 
 
 The next thing that meets his eye startles him. It is an elab- 
 orate description of each officer on the list, with his photograph 
 attached. 
 
 " How did you get these ? " cries the American in surprise. 
 
 " Time and money did it but what use ?" says the girl sadly. 
 " Any being of reason would say it must be one of these men 
 whose faces I look on in this book ; gaze upon them with me ; 
 you saw his face that fatal day, and know it is not one of those 
 who is the murderer that I seek." 
 
 " How do you know that ? " 
 
 " How ? I have seen every man on this list, but that engineer 
 who was suddenly ordered to China ; this one who is on the Gold 
 Coast of Africa, and Reede who was detached to the ' Ruby ' in the 
 South Pacific, I have talked with them as I have with you to-day, 
 and they all said that they were too busy with official duties for 
 any of them to get leave the day the l Vulture ' left Ajaccio. And 
 then I went to the captain, a close-mouthed Scotchman, who 
 promptly told me that no officer of his left his ship that day 
 ' Catch me giving leave on the morning of sailing not to a royal 
 prince, by Heaven ! Madam ! ' and then I knew that there was 
 some conspiracy among them, even including the captain, to keep 
 the matter secret for they feared a court-martial for their com- 
 rade. Had it been in the French navy I could have discovered, 
 because a duel would have brought no punishment; but with 
 these men who cling together and always fight shoulder to shoul- 
 der, I could do nothing." 
 
 " And so you despaired ! " 
 
 " Despaired ? You would not say that if you knew me. I took 
 another way the hospitals. When men are sick and wounded, 
 in that hot Egyptian climate, they sometimes rave, and in deliri- 
 um there is often truth. I have been by the bedside of some of 
 them, and one died in my arms and yet gave no sign ! :> 
 
 Barnes is staring at her ; in his mind is a vision of the seven- 
 teenth century and de Brinvilliers. 
 
 But the girl continues, " Though I couldn't find the man whose 
 life I wanted, I found lives to save, and nursed the poor victims 
 of the war and fever, and did some little good for they said I 
 was gentle, and called me ' the Angel of the Hospital ! ' and one, 
 a sunny-haired Saxon giant, whose pale face was kind as a child's,
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 79 
 
 and who, they told me, was brave as he was gentle for he had a 
 cross upon his heart the one so many of them die to gain. When 
 they brought him in wounded I I said ' He shall go back to 
 his English home ; perhaps he has a sister like my poor brother 
 had, who is waiting for him in that far-off land ; ' and I they 
 said I saved his life and he he used to call me his his " 
 
 Barnes, whose eyes have been upon the floor, raises them and 
 sees before him, instead of an angel of vengeance, and angel of 
 pity, and, perhaps, of love ; for the girl has now a blush upon her 
 face. 
 
 She concludes after a moment's pause of emotion, with a little 
 effort " He called me his Princess of Mercy and used, after he 
 was stronger, to walk with me in the moonlight in the Khedive's 
 gardens, and tell me he owed to my kind hands his life. And 
 when he was well he grew to look like a god Edwin " 
 
 " Edwin ! " cries Barnes. 
 
 " Yes, Edwin Gerard An the last is a curious English name 
 difficult for a southern tongue to pronounce but I have his card." 
 And she produces for him the name of Enid's brother, and cries, 
 " You know him too ! Is he not glorious ! " for she notices some 
 sign upon Barnes' face, that makes her think this. 
 
 " No, I have only met his sister." 
 
 " Yes, she is beautiful, like him I saw her, too, in Paris before 
 my picture you love her, don't you 1 " and Marina looks curiously 
 at him. 
 
 To this Barnes makes no reply, but changes the subject back to 
 the original one, saying, " Aud afterwards?" 
 
 " Aftewards ? Count Danella took me away from Egypt almost 
 by force ; he said the climate was killing me. And then I painted 
 the duel it was a work of love and a work of hate. I thought, 
 perhaps some one in the vast multitudes that throng the Paris 
 Salon might give some sign before it, and by that I might discover. 
 A private detective stood, night and day, near by, but all that it 
 has brought me was the pursuit of you " 
 
 " And after all this 1 ' 
 
 " I should have gone to China to see the lieutenat who is there 
 buo lately the Count has received some curious information from 
 Gibraltar that makes us think there were other officers on board 
 the ' Vulture,' whose names are not upon that list Oh, I pray 
 Heaven that he may not have died before I reach him ! I want 
 him to know that Antonio Paoli has a sister ! " The girl is now 
 once more a picture of intense hate. 
 
 Barnes, who has been studying Marina's face and pondering ho\v 
 to bring her brother's words home to he-, here says, " When you 
 were thinking of their noble work in the Egyptian hospitals, I
 
 80 MR. BARNES OF NEW YuKK. 
 
 should have given you the message from the dead." Then he tells 
 her earnestly but quietly the story of how her brother died in his 
 arms, and that his last solemn words to him were, " I had sooner 
 my sister forgot me, than that the memory of rr.y death destroyed 
 her life," and asks her, if she, with all her talent, and all her 
 beauty and goodness, has no better work in life than seeking that 
 . f another. 
 
 The girl answers him calmly, " I have thought of that so often, 
 but I am a Corsican. Old Tomasso would despise me and I could 
 not look my neighbors in the face in my dear old Island for they 
 know my dead brother was murdered. You talk to me just like 
 de Bolloc did." 
 
 " Ah, you have asked him ? " 
 
 " Of course ! I took all these pictures to him and begged him 
 to point out the guilty man." 
 
 " And he 1 " continued Barnes, for Marina had paused and is 
 beating the floor with her foot in petulant passion. 
 
 " He ! " cries the girl, " He ! the pretended friend of Antonio, 
 refused to even look at them to aid my vengeance ! He said the 
 duel was as fair a one as ever fought, and the young English officer 
 was a gentleman of great honor and bravery ! " 
 
 " So it seemed to me also ! " 
 
 "Ah! you agree with him ! Fair? Brave? when the man 
 who killed my brother wore armor / " 
 
 " Who told you that ! " gasps Barnes. 
 
 " Mateo, the innkeeper. The man was shot in the side and 
 would have died like his victim, but for his cowardly protection." 
 
 Barnes here explains to her the incident of the lucky penny, 
 telling her she painted it in her picture. 
 
 Upon this the girl interrupts him with a cruel little laugh, and 
 says, " I had no idea my painting was so bad ; I meant it to re- 
 present a scale of armor broken off by the bullet." 
 
 " Then you will not forget ? " 
 
 " Not while I have these to remember him by ! " and Manna 
 points to a portrait of her brother that hangs upon the wall, then 
 brings the American the broken pistol and gasps, " It is stained 
 with his blood ! " and taking from her bosom a little leaden ball 
 that hangs about her white neck, cries, her lips trembling with 
 sorrow, " The bullet that killed my dear brother ! By this I will 
 remember my oath ! " 
 
 " You are young yet," replies Barnes sadly. " Some day you'll 
 know it is happier to love than to hate ! " 
 
 But she answers, rising as if to end discussion, " While I live I 
 shall know but one passion, and that is hate ! Until this is fin- 
 ished, not if all the men upon the earth asked me, would I know 
 love ! "
 
 MR. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 81 
 
 " Not if, in the gardens of the Khedive, Edwin Anstruther 
 asked you ? " 
 
 Marina starts and staggers, as if he had struck her, a great 
 wave of blood rushes over her face and then leaves it deadly pale 
 with misery, and sinking down she utters a cry of agonized longing. 
 
 And thus Barnes leaves her, his own phlegmatic nerves a little 
 shaken for he has had more surprises than he cares fo: this day ; 
 and meditates in a startled, dazed sort of way : " Great Heavens ! 
 If those two meet ; and she should ever know 1 '* 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE OTHER ONE. 
 
 AFTER using three matches to light his cigar, in a monotonous, 
 listless sort of manner, Mr. Barnes takes his way towards his. 
 hotel, turning over in his mind the various possibilities pertaining; 
 to Enid's brother, and decides that that young officer must leave^ 
 Nice. " They couldn't fail to come together if Edwin staid here," ' 
 he meditates. " Marina would be sure to discover him sooner or 
 later. Though I could prevent his being assassinated, I have no, 
 doubt, still it would make a very disagreeable complication. Al- 
 though, if he's the man I think he is, I must ship him off to-night >; " 
 As he begins to plan the details of the affair, he tinds himself in ; 
 front of unpleasant duties at every point. I shall have to disclose- 
 to the chap that he has taken a man's life and that from now oil; 
 he must look to his own as carefully as the Czar of Russia guards 
 his precious imperial welfare. And then, how much shall I dis- 
 close to Edwin 1 I can't tell him his angel of mercy will kill hint 
 on sk-ht ; he wouldn't believe me if I did. Then if by chance he 
 should love Marina " here Mr. Barnes emits a prolonged whistle 
 and turns the problem over again in his mind, and, having by this, 
 time entered the Promenade des Anglais, which is now full of 
 foreign visitors that have not as yet fled from this winter city, he- 
 suddenly finds his meditation ended and his problem solved in th& 
 pleasantest manner imaginable. 
 
 A victoria is coming toward him in the street ; in it, a young 
 lady of radiant beauty, in the freshest of white summer dresses, 
 colored by a corsage bouquet of blush rosebuds and a sash of 
 shimmering satin of the same delicate tint ; making a vision whose 
 loveliness attracts every masculine eye on the promenade, except 
 (61
 
 M. MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 that of the American, who is in deep brown study. Beside her, 
 sits a plain, round-faced girl, with a long, lankey form ; big enougli 
 to be sixteen and dressed short enough to be eleven. This child 
 is a mass of gaudy coloring, from her bronze boots and cardinal 
 stockings, to her blue hat and red feather ; the parts coming be- 
 tween, being clothed in bright yellow dress and purple sash. As 
 Barnes comes near the carriage, the young lady makes a sudden 
 sign to the coachman, the horses are pulled up, and a soft voice 
 says in playful piteousness, " Are you not going to ppeak to me ? " 
 
 The gentleman addressed, who has a gloomy scowl upon his 
 countenance and is at that moment meditating that he has not 
 seen Enid Anstruther for a whole day, and that twenty-four hours 
 is a little eternity, awakes from his apathy with a start ; the 
 frown upon his face becomes sunshine ; he takes off his hat and 
 answers, " Speak to you ? of course ! So long as I'm out of the 
 deaf and dumb asylum ! " Then seeing that Miss Anstruther has 
 a hand held towards him, seizes it. 
 
 His speech makes the gawky girl laugh and say, " Why you're 
 funny ar'nt you ? You're the celebrated Mr. Barnes, of New 
 York ! " " And you, I presume, are the equally illustrious Miss 
 Maud Chartris 1 " 
 
 " Yes, I'm the little girl," here she grins, " that you're going to 
 give candy enough to, to kill her. Enid told me ! She's been 
 looking all over for you ; haven't you, Enid ? " 
 
 This brings a wonderful color to Miss Arnstruther's face, which 
 Barnes thinks is very becoming. He watches to see how she will 
 parry the innocent's candor, which she does, by saying promptly 
 in a very matter of-fact way, " Yes, I have been looking for you ; 
 there is a note from me at your hotel," and then with a sudden 
 asperity of manner she turns on the offender at her side and dis- 
 charges, " Maud, if you don't stop sucking the end of your parasol, 
 Mr. Barnes will forget he promised you the candy ! " 
 
 " He dars'nt ! " returns the Maud, with a grin of conscious 
 power. " The other one tried to slip out of giving me a bonbon- 
 niere, he said I should have, and you know how I fixed him." 
 
 " The other one," jars on Barnes, as well as on Miss Anstruther, 
 who has become intensely interested in the coachman in front of 
 her 
 
 " How did you fix him ? " mutters he, savagely. 
 
 " I I got him to ask " 
 
 Here his divinity's face becomes so distressed, that Barnes cuts 
 Maud short by saying, " You run into that candy store, half a 
 square down the street, and buy what you want and I'll come in 
 and pay for it." A rush and Maud is gone ; she wants no second 
 invitation.
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 " What did you make that rash offer for ? " says Miss Anstru- 
 ther innocently. 
 
 " Because I wanted to relieve you of the innocent's candor," 
 says Mr. Barnes, lying glibly, with a laugh. 
 
 " I'm rather afraid your diplomacy will cost you dear ; you 
 have no idea of her capacity for bonbons ; but you have made her 
 your friend ; and she is a vindictive and aggressive enemy. Now 
 why did'nt you call upon me last evening ? I was quite lonely ! " 
 
 " Lonely with your brother here?" rejoins the American. 
 
 u My brother had but half an hour with me. His ship was 
 suddenly ordered to Gibraltar and sailed at sunset yesterday." 
 
 Barnes gives a si^h of relief ; his problem is solved. Edwin 
 Anstruther is out of Nice, so there can be no trouble for the pre- 
 sent. While he is thinking this, Enid continues, " I could not 
 ask you to call last night because I was alone, though had you 
 come in I should have pardoned your intrusion ;' but now Lady 
 Ohartris is here, and protected by her matron wings, I shall be 
 "happy to receive you at any time this evening, I hope Oh ! 
 what a greedy girl ! " This last is addressed to Miss Chartris, who 
 comes to the carriage followed by the shopman, who is laden down 
 with numerous packages of sweets of every kind : and is propor- 
 tionately polite and cringing. 
 
 41 The reason I took so much, was because I've a hungry brother 
 and sister ; the reason I took so little, is because it gets stale. 
 Thank you till next time, Mr. Barnes, of New York." 
 
 'Don't you get enough to eat at home?" questions the gentleman. 
 
 "Not of marrons ylaces," replies Miss Maud with her mouth 
 full, and as the carriage drives away she cries out, " I like you 
 'better than ' the other one.' What are you looking so cross at me 
 for 1 " The first is to Barnes, and the second to Miss Anstruther, 
 who colors and laughs a little, leaving that gentleman savagely 
 pondering over " the other one ; " which is a new distraction for 
 liim. " Who the deuce is ' the other one' and how did Maud fix 
 ; him ! if she only fixed him so that he won't come to time again 
 I'll make a very handsome present." With this malicious reflec- 
 tion Barnes pays the candy dealer, and wonders if a poor man 
 couldn't live on his bonbon bill through several long strikes. 
 Going to his hotel, he finds a little note in her handwriting, tha\ 
 makes the sun seein a little brighter to him as he reads. 
 
 " Thursday. 
 
 "Dear Mr. Barnes, Lady Chartris has arrived; so now ] 
 can ask you to call that I may thank, you again. We shall be at 
 home this evening after eight. Yours very sincerely, 
 
 " ENID A. ANSTRUTHER. 
 
 " Hotel des Anglais, Nice."
 
 84 MR. BAENES OP NEW YORK. 
 
 His valet and baggage having arrived from Paris, Mr. Barnes 
 slips into a dress suit and feels a little the better in it as men, 
 generally do though most of them detest the trouble of the 
 change. After dinner he woos wisdom by inspiration imported 
 from Havanna, and decides on two things ; first, not to give any 
 hint to Miss Anstruther of his suspicions in regard to her brother 
 having fought his duel and killed his man " she had better never 
 knowthat," he thinks ; second, to make himself absolutely certain 
 that Edwin Gerrard Anstruther was the English officer who met 
 Antonio Paoli on that morning in Corsica. This can be easily 
 done he imagines, by a little judicious pumping and a look at his 
 sweetheart's photograph album ; perhaps, also, he will see a pic- 
 ture of " the other one." This turns his thoughts to a different 
 channel, and he wonders how long it will be before he buys the 
 engagement ring; and if "the other one?" Here he jumps up 
 suddenly and marches straight for the Hotel des Anglais, for a 
 dreadful idea has flashed through his mind " What if ' the other 
 one ' is in Nice ? " 
 
 The other one is certainly not present as Mr. Barnes enters the 
 prettly little parlor whose windows command the Mediterranean, 
 on one side, and the Public Garden on the other ; for (the season 
 in the Riviera being near its close) Lady Chartris has almost the- 
 best rooms in the house. The lights are turned down, and he 
 thinks there is no one in the apartment. After a moment, a 
 voice comes to him from one of the deep windows, he sees Enid 
 in the moonlight that streams from without upon her, and gets 
 another and new sensation. He beholds the girl he loves, for the 
 first time, in full evening dress. A light, gauzy robe seems to float 
 about and envelop her, permitting some lovely views of her neck 
 and arms, that are exquisitely fair, white and polished, glistening 
 and shining in the subdued light as if they had been stolen from 
 the lost Venus of Praxiteles and given to the girl to complete and 
 enhance the beauty of her face. She does not rise to meet him, but 
 says, " Please sit down here by me in the window ; the night is. 
 too perfect to spoil it by gas. Lady Chartris will be here in a. 
 minutes, and then I presume she will expect us to call up conven- 
 tionality, in the form of the waiter to light the chandelier ! " 
 
 Barnes says nothing, but audaciously walks up to his goddess 
 and takes her hand, holding it perhaps a little too long, or pressing 
 it perchance a little too fervidly, for Miss Anstruther gives out a 
 little feminine " Oh ! " and says rather wickedly, " Am I to- 
 thank you for making this parlor a rose-garden for me ? " 
 
 Barnes looks around and sees an immensity of cut flowers all 
 about the room. He has not sent them, and though he curse?, 
 himself for not doing so, he anathematizes the man who sent them< 
 more; being satisfied it is "the other one."
 
 Mi;. BAKNES OF NEW YORK. 85 
 
 "No!" he says slowly. " You must thank somebody else for 
 these ; I am a man of business ; and, shall 1 tell you the truth, 
 ihave had more practical interests of yours to look after to-day, 
 ^than flowers." 
 
 This is a much greater stroke of diplomacy on his part than he 
 guesses ; his only idea was to palliate not being as attentive as 
 " the other one ;" but he has given the girl something to be cur- 
 ious about, and that curiosity linked to him. 
 
 Miss Anstruther is now a blaze of inquiry " For me ? More 
 practical interests * What do you mean ? Isn't my luggage all 
 right ? Have I lost a box ? Did 1 leave anything behind me in 
 the railway carriage? or, is it those awful tnen 1 ? the last in a 
 tone a little tremulous. 
 
 'None of these ; you need fear the men no longer ; they were 
 following me. At present, at least, I can tell you no more," says 
 Mr. Barnes, who sees he has made a lucky hit and does not pro- 
 pose to destroy it. " I suppose you have no idea who these flow 
 rs came from 1 " he has a little incredulity in his voice. 
 
 " Oh yes, I have ! I think they were sent by guess ? " " The 
 other one !" he mutters in such a gloomy and morose tone that 
 Miss Enid goes into a spasm of laughter as she gasps, " No ! they 
 -aine from Edwin my brother, of course ! " Then blushing a 
 little she says, ' ( There is no other one ! " and gets embarrassed 
 -as she sees Barnes' face gleam at her unintentional but most sug- 
 gestive remark. But pulling herself together finishes " There is 
 no one at all, and of course there can be no other one ! " 
 
 " Ah, then the sooner you get one, the better ! " returns Mr. 
 Barnes, very tenderly, who has the theory that wh^n a woman 
 blushes at a thought, she generally thinks it ; and wisely judges 
 that his darling has been meditating about him in the position he 
 wishes to assume ; which is that of the impetuous lover. 
 
 " What do you mean by that ? " replies Enid, who hardly catches 
 Ms drift, though she is a pretty quick thinker herself.^ His answer 
 leaves no room for ctoubt. 
 
 " I mean," he says this very slowly " I mean what a beauti- 
 ful hand you have for a wedding ring." 
 
 The cool insinuation of this remark gives M ; ss Anstruther a chill. 
 She hardly likes to say that she hasn't a beautiful hand, which her 
 vanity tells her would not be true ; and if she admits that she 
 .has what next 1 ? Americans are a rapid people, and this is 
 apparently the fleetest greyhound of the lot. He has known her 
 thirty-six hours, ami has imp'ied more than many men would 
 -after a year's worship. 
 
 A bright idea stiikes her. She crushes him by saying, " That 
 ^depends upon who would place it thero ! " Then seeing that she
 
 86 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 has hit Barnes harder than she wishes to, she loses her head and? 
 palliates it by an impulsive ''Oh, I didn't mean that to you 1'* 
 and finds herself in an awful predicament. 
 
 " To me ! " Barnes has got. her hand, and might have pro- 
 ceeded to extremities and been foolish, for Miss Anstruther wa , 
 a young lady whose pride would have resented so sudden an assault 
 upon the citadel of her affections, and would have never permitted 
 a surrender to a thirty-six hours' siege. But here a small .oice, 
 that is not conscience, breaks upon his ear. It says, " I am in 
 the next window sitting quietly ! I thought I would tell you, 
 Enid, as you always like to know if I am near when you have 
 gentlemen visitors,! " 
 
 The intense silence that follows is broken by Miss Anstruther 
 saying sternly, " Maud, do not tell atrocious stories ! " 
 
 " It's true ! you know you didn't like it when ' the other one * 
 used to come ! " 
 
 Enid rises in dignity, a flush of anger on her face, a tear of 
 vexation in her eye, her mouth very firm but trembling with an- 
 noyance, as she says determinedly : " Until you can learn to 
 respect me and the truth also you mnst leave this room ! " 
 
 " I sha'n't ! " replies Miss Maud, coming in from the window^ 
 " and if you go to bullying I'll tell him " She gets no farther, 
 for Miss Anstruther has thrown open the door, and remarks, " If 
 you do not leave the parlor and stay out of it all the evening I 
 ,hall tell your governess you know what ! " this last very signifi- 
 cantly. 
 
 Miss Maud Chartris gives a piteous " Don't, please ! " and bolts 
 t'rom the room in abject terror. 
 
 " Mind over matter ! " remarks Barnes. 
 
 "Yes," says Mis? Anstruther, who rings the bell and orders the 
 waiter to light the room, and does not return to the window. " I 
 always keep one undiscovered crime of Maud's in abeyance, over 
 her head ; and in desperate cases threaten to deliver her to jus- 
 ; ice. Were it not for that, I could not live in the house with her. 
 And now will you do me a favor 1 " 
 
 11 Certainly ! " 
 
 "Then tell me how much my railway journey has cost you 1" 
 
 Some men would have replied "Nothing ! " and never got asked 
 for another favor. But Barnes, who is an Ainerican, as regards, 
 business, and a gentleman, as regards habit, pulls out his pocket- 
 book and mentions the amount. 
 
 The girl tills his hand full of bills, and says simply, " I can re- 
 pay you your money, but your kindness I'll keep that, if yout 
 please, to remember you by. My brother doesn't recollect meet- 
 ing you, but asked me to thank you for him also ! "
 
 .MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 87 
 
 This is precisely the opening that Barnes wants. 
 
 <c If you have a picture of him," he suggests, " I can tell you 
 with more certainty." 
 
 " Yes here is my locket that was Edwin's two years ago !" 
 says Enid with a little smile of pride, and hands him the article, 
 which contains the face of a dark man of about thirty. 
 
 " Do you think he looks like me ? " the girl asks, after a moment. 
 
 " Not at all ! " says Barnes, very much relieved, for he sees that 
 this is not the officer of the duel. " He is as dark as night, and 
 you are fair ! " 
 
 " Impossible ! Let me see ! " She takes the locket from him, 
 and exclaims, " This is not my brother ! " The next instant her 
 face flushes very red and her eyes beam with indignation ; she 
 turns to him and says, " This is a miserable joke of that fearful 
 child ! Maud Chartris has taken out my brother's face and 
 inserted that of a friend ! " 
 
 " Nothing more 1 " says Barnes rather pointedly, for he has 
 become very jealous of the man in the locket. 
 
 " If I had a a lover dear enough to me to wear his likeness 
 upon my hear!, I should not submit it to the gaze of others ; I 
 should want it all for myself. Of course it was not necessary for 
 me to give any explanation to you of the matter ! " 
 
 " Of course not ! " mutters poor Barnes, humbly, who feels he is 
 being whipped for Maud Chartris' fault, *' You are sure the girl 
 did it ? " 
 
 " Certainly ! Lord " she checks herself " the person whose 
 face was in this locket," for she has already removed the picture, 
 "is a gentleman ! " 
 
 " Oh ! a lord is ' the other one,' " thinks the American, " it's 
 lucky she's an English girl ; if Enid Anstruther came from my 
 side of the water I shouldn't have one chance in a thousand ! " 
 He forgets his anxiety for the brother in his interest for the sister, 
 and Lady Chartris coming in, the conversation takes another sub- 
 je-t. 
 
 Lady Chartris is fat and fifty, though she struggles for a youth 
 that has gone from her into the distant past ; she talks of her 
 early widowhood, and of being a young woman and alone in the 
 world, with only her babies. " This is my oldest," she says, pat- 
 ting Maud's hand, for she cannot reach her shoulder ; that young 
 lady having taken courage and followed her mother into the room. 
 
 ' Ah ! a sweet child ! " murmurs Barnes, sympathetically, for he 
 has many good reasons for making the mother his friend " how 
 old ? eleven 1 " 
 
 " Yes, nearly twelve ! " replies Lady Chartris. "How wonder- 
 fully you guess ages ? "
 
 88 MU. BARNES OF KKW YORK 
 
 ' Oh ! I knew she couldn't be older than that, by looking at 
 you," says Barnes, and doesn't even blush at his remark. " A. 
 well-grown child for her ago ! " 
 
 " Oh ! I was as big as I am now when I was thirteen ! " says 
 Miss Maud, who has been waiting eagerly for her chance to 
 
 At this distressing contretemps a silence falls on the group, 
 only broken by a somewhat malicious laugh from Miss Anstru- 
 ther, who has not entirely regaihed her temper. 
 
 " Ten ! you mean, my little one ! " ejaculates her mother. " You 
 confound ten and thirteen. Your governess must give you longer 
 lessons in arithmetic I shall speak to her ! " 
 
 At this prospect of increased tasks the youthful prodigy's coun- 
 tenance falls immensely. 
 
 Here Enid takes occasion to mention that they think of going 
 to Monte Carlo the next day. 
 
 " Yes. we are going to Monte Carlo ! " repeats Lady Chartris, 
 but doesn't invite Barnes to join the party. Whereupon that 
 gentleman suggests that the ladies permit him to show them the 
 beauty of the Public Gardens by moonlight, as this is their last 
 day in. Nice ! 
 
 Enid half assents, though Lady Chartris thinks it is rather too 
 late, and the subject drops for five minutes, when Lady Chartris 
 in speaking of Americans, mentions the name of the Countess of 
 Moringtori. " She, I believe, is an American ; do you know her ? " 
 
 u Pretty well," says Barnes, " she is my sister ?" 
 
 " Oh ! " remarks the widow, somewhat impressed, for Lady 
 Morington is a very great swell in London, " I'm glad I have 
 met one of your relatives ; but as we are going into the garden 
 with you. we had better put on our wraps at once." 
 
 As the ladies leave the room to prepare for their walk, Lady 
 Chartris suggests that Mr. Barnes shall accompany them lo Monte 
 Carlo, and that gentleman is very happy to accept the gracious 
 invitation ; a few moments after they are in the beautiful gar- 
 dens and Lady Chartris being engaged in pursuing the eccentric 
 rambles of Miss Maud, Mr. Barnes finds himself tqte-a-tete with 
 Miss Anstruther, who is hanging on his arm. 
 
 " I went to that wretched child," says the young lacly per- 
 ceiving her chaperon is not in ear-shot, " and demanded my 
 brother's picture. Maud confessed her crime, but declared she 
 had lost the likeness, and now I have none to show you ; but you 
 could hardly forget Edwin if you had met him. He is fair 
 like roe ! " 
 
 "And very tall?" suggests Barnes, wlio remembers that 
 Marina had called him a S^ixon giant.
 
 Mlt. BARNE i OF NKW YORK. 89 
 
 " Not very tall for an Englishman, but tall for a Frenchman ! " 
 This description might be that of the officer of the duel. 
 
 " Has your brother any marked peculiarity 1 " 
 
 " No ! except that he is very noble looking ! " 
 
 " That would be the description of any sister ! " replies Barnes. 
 " Now my sister, I have no doubt, thinks me very noble 
 looking ? " 
 
 " Poes she?" the incredulity of her voice and astonished ex- 
 pansion of her eyes are not complimentary ; but after a second 
 Enid laughs and says, " I don't think I am prejudiced. My 
 younger brother, Arthur, is decidedly ignoble; he bids fair to be 
 a perfect pigmy ! " 
 
 Barnes can get no information in regard to Edwin that is 
 absolutely satisfying, so he turns the talk into another channel 
 and tries to bring it back to a more personal nature ; but, here 
 he finds himself baffled and defeated. Miss Anstruther fights 
 very shy, and is, as he expresses it to himself, " a very wary bird 
 in matters of sentiment" that evening. Try how he will the 
 girl twists romance into merriment, and suddenly remembers 
 that they have lost Lady Chartris after a short, fruitless search, 
 Miss Enid suggests that her chaperon having probably returned 
 to the hotel, she must immediately follow her. As they leave the 
 garden, they pass two figures, walking together, whom Barnes 
 salutes ; one is Musso Danella, and the other, Marina. 
 
 " I have seen that girl before," says Enid, " she is the young 
 lady who painted that awful picture of the duel in the Paris 
 Salon." 
 
 " Yes," says her escort, " I stood beside you while you studied 
 it." 
 
 " Indeed ! I did not notice you ; but perhaps that is excusable, 
 as I hardly knew you from any other man then ! " 
 
 " Let me prove to you I was near you," replies Barnes. " Are 
 you very much in love with the gentleman who pitied in the 
 painting 1 " 
 
 At this, Miss Anstruther gives a merry little laugh, and cries, 
 " No, I hated him, he was so ugly ! " 
 
 " Then why did you say you loved him ? You might raise 
 false hopes ? " 
 
 " What ? in a man on canvas ?" cries the girl in a gasp of 
 astonishment." 
 
 " No in his earthly representative ! " 
 
 At this extraordinary remark the girl opens her eyes and says, 
 *' Yes if he ever heard me !" 
 
 " All the same, you should be careful about such statements," 
 continues Barnes in solemn pathos. " Young girls should be very
 
 90 MB. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 particular. If he had heard you, the man might have broken 
 his heart for you. Why did you do it ? " 
 
 The girl gives way to a strain of musical laughter at Barnes'" 
 tones which are those of a camp-meeting parson and then 
 stuns him with these extraordinary words : 
 
 " Why did I do it ? It was a ruse I But we are at the des 
 Anglais ; good night, Mr. Barnes of New York ! " Then she 
 laughs again, runs up the stairs to her room, and looks at her 
 beautiful self in the glass earnestly and sadly, and a little tear or 
 two dims her bright eye, as she says to her fair image, "You are 
 lost to me ; you will soon be no longer tny own you will be his ! 
 He's going to conquer me ; I can see it. in his eye ; he's one of 
 those horrid creatures who go about and make poor girls marry 
 them, whether they want to or not !" And then she gives a little 
 laugh and then a little sigh, and wonders if he is very wild, and 
 then suddenly exclaims, " The wretch ! if he had dared to speak 
 to me to-night I would have crushed him oh, if he should be 
 only amusing himself ! " 
 
 >> Here she commences to turn pale and choke, and goes to bed 
 and has a nice, enjoyable cry, until the fear that he may see her 
 eyes are red next morning, stops her, and she goes to sleep to 
 dream of 
 
 As for Barnes, he goes home stunned with astonishment, and 
 mutters, " A ruse, ? What kind of a ruie ? A. ruse for what ? " 
 and begins to think that women's minds are beyond the ken of 
 masculine logic ; and that Marina's portrait of him must be the 
 cursedest likeness ever painted ; and this makes him think how he- 
 can set his mind at rest in regard to Edwin Anstruther, which 
 leads him to very savage thoughts of " the other one " which send 
 him to bed in a bad humor. And so both he and the girl he 
 adores arrive at the same result, and what is probably best for 
 them after this day's experience, and that is sleep.
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 THE ENCOUNTER AT MONTE 
 CARLO. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 LA BELLE BLACKWOOD. 
 
 THE mind of Count Musso Danella was of that peculiar char- 
 acter that often sees a great deed in a very little. Educated in 
 Padua, he had early become imbued with that mediaeval school of 
 Pessimist philosophy that, as enunciated by that diabolical Flor- 
 entine, Signor Niccolo Machiavelli, made middle-aged Italy a 
 nation of treachery and deceit. One of the cardinal principles 
 of the faith being that every human action has its controlling 
 human motive generally, a bad one. 
 
 Believing, then, that nothing is really unselfish, Danella won- 
 ders why Barnes should have taken such an interest in attempt- 
 ing to persuade Marina to forego her vengeance. What difference 
 did it make to the American whether there was one less English- 
 man upon the earth. But he said a word to save him ergo, 
 it made some difference 1 Problem : to discover what difference ! 
 And turning this in his subtle brain, the following facts startled 
 him. 
 
 It was not important enough for Barnes to visit Marina in 
 Paris, for he could have easily found her there, to give her the 
 message from the dead ; why was it important enough for him to- 
 do in Nice what he had not cared to do in Paris ? In other 
 words, what has connected Mr. Barnes so much more intimately 
 with this affair in the last twenty-four hours 1 
 
 These considerations on the afternoon of the American's visit 
 cause the Count to look over the detective's memoranda, who had 
 followed him from Paris. Two facts meet him in the investiga- 
 tion. First, Barnes has fallen in love with Enid Anstruther. 
 Second, Miss Anstruther mentioned in her conversation while-
 
 92 MB. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 standing upon the station platform at Toulon, the English navy. 
 The Count saunters down to Mr. Barnes' hotel, and, politely 
 pumping the clerk, learns that no one whomsoever has called on 
 that gentleman since he has been at Nice. He wanders up to the 
 des Anglais and discovers that a young English naval lieutenant 
 has waited upon Miss Anstruther, and that, moreover, he is her 
 brother. He goes to the harbor and is told that the British gun- 
 boat Sealark sailed for Gibralter the evening before, Lieutenant 
 Anstruther being one of her officers. Arranging these facts in 
 his mind, the question naturally shapes itself, " Was Lieutenant 
 Anstruther of the English navy the motive that caused Mr. 
 Barnes to try and influence Marina to forget her oath of the Ven- 
 detta ? " The American loves the sister, and a service to the bro- 
 ther would tend to assist his suit ; besides here the Count 
 remembers, with a start, this English girl herself had been inter- 
 ested for some cause or other in the painting of the duel. He 
 himself had seen her looking at it on two different occasions. Al- 
 together, though the clew is not as promising as it might be for 
 Barnes may have been but curious to know how the affair pro- 
 gressed, and been perhaps drawn to see Marina by her beauty 
 still, in the absence of any other, it is worth investigating. 
 
 Consequently the next morning the Count tells Marina, who is 
 uneasy, feverish and worried, and who shows it to his eyes that 
 follow her every movement, that he is going to run over to Gibral- 
 tar by railway ; and, as it will be a very rapid trip, she had bet- 
 ter take old Tomasso, to look after her, run up to Monte Carlo, 
 and seek to forget all trouble until his return, in a little gaity 
 and dissipation. "I advise you, ma belle, to play a little! The 
 joys of rouge et noir make some of us kill ourselves ; but their 
 -excitement keep others alive. Do a little gambling. You are rich 
 enough to risk a few twenty-franc pieces for health." 
 
 " You are going to Gibraltar ? " replies Marina, ignoring all else. 
 " Is it that you have a hope ? " 
 
 "Yes a hope a very little hope ! " 
 
 " Then go ! And if you find him you will find me strong enough 
 to do my part ! " The paleness leaves her cheek, and she gives 
 Danelia a glance of gratitude that sets his blood on fire. 
 
 " I shall be back in a week, bellerina carissimaf" says the 
 Oount, and he takes the railway for Marseilles and Spain, while 
 she and old Tomasso go up to Monte Carlo ori the same train that 
 carries Mr. Barnes, Miss Anstruther and the Chartris family. 
 
 To the desperate gamester, Monte Carlo is like an opium dream, 
 in its extremes of the joys of Heaven and the pangs of Hades. So 
 is it with Barnes, though the stake he plays for is not generally 
 wagered on the tables of the Casino ; but as the smiles of Fortune
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 93 
 
 and women usually go together, a good many pretty girls have 
 probably been lost and won on the roulette of Monaco. 
 
 The first evening at this principality of chance is almost a Hea- 
 ven to Mr. Barnes, and a fairy dream to Enid. After dinner he 
 takes her and the Chartris infant to the Casino and introduces 
 them to the mysteries of roulette ; both girls win, Miss Anstruther 
 gathering up enough gold to keep her in gloves for a year ; while 
 Maud, by the help of letting Mr. Barnes pay all losses, and pock- 
 eting all winnings, contrives to carry off' a few weeks' bonbon 
 money. 
 
 Both could stay and wager their souls, such is their eagerness 
 and delight, but the luck changing, Mr. Barnes returns the 
 infant Chartris to her hotel and carries off his divinity for a walk 
 in the gardens. 
 
 Here, on one of the terraces they pass Marina. She is seated 
 in a hopeless kind of manner sadly watching the throng. Her 
 dress, which is black as the night, makes her pale face look even 
 paler and sadder than it is. Old Tomasso, who still wears the 
 picturesque costume of his island, stands near sympathetically 
 watching his loved mistress. 
 
 The gay crowd pass her by ; the music of the band floats around 
 her, but the girl never changes her sad smile, and her mind seems 
 to be far away. She recognizes Barnes' bow and appears for a 
 moment as if she wishes to speak to him ; but that gentleman 
 hurries Miss Anstruther on, thinking it safer that the two young; 
 ladies do not meet. 
 
 Enid notices this, and says, ".What do you run past that pretty 
 girl for ? One would think she was not good to look at ! " 
 
 " Neither she is, when one has been educated to higher types ! "" 
 This is emphasized by a very killing look from Barnes 
 
 " I do not see any higher type here t In fact I've never seen a 
 more beautiful woman. I'm afraid the trouble is not in her charms, 
 but in your appreciation of them," remarks Enid, who has a way 
 of generally taking the other side in most discussions. " She 
 knows you. Her face interests me She looks as if she had a his- 
 tory Please introduce me ! " 
 
 If there are two women in the world that Barnes thinks should 
 not meet, Marina Paoli and Enid Anstruther are the two ; but as 
 he can't give his reasons he can only procrastinate. 
 
 " Certainly, to-morrow morning with pleasure ! " 
 
 "No ! To-night!" 
 
 " What 1 and spoil my evening 1 " a little tenderly. 
 
 "Your evening should be ended by this time; I must soon go- 
 back to the hotel. There ! I see her now ! This way come ! 
 She looks sad and lonely; let us try to make her a little 
 happier ! "
 
 J4 MR. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 
 
 Such a request is impossible to refuse without giving explan- 
 ations that Mr. Barnes will not and cannot give; besides his 
 divinity's us has made him so tender that he is very pliable at this 
 moment. So he walks up, and after exchanging a word witli Mar- 
 ina, says, " Mademoiselle Paoli, let me present Miss Anstruther ! " 
 
 As he utters Marina's name, Enid's eyes begin to open, and she 
 cries, " Paoli 1 Were you in Egypt, Mademoiselle ? " 
 
 " Yes, a year ago ! " replies Marina with a repressed sigh. 
 
 "Did you not spend some of your time in the English Hospital 
 at Alexandria ? " 
 
 " Yes ! " there is an expectant look now on the Corsican's face. 
 
 " And nursed my brother Edwin Anstruther?" 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 " Then, darling ! you are the woman who saved his life ! " and 
 Enid goes up to the girl and gives her a tender kiss, putting her 
 whole soul into her lips, in a manner that makes Barnes hungry 
 for his turn to come ; for it is the first kiss he has ever seen Miss 
 Anstruther give ; and the manner in which she does it is a beau- 
 tiful little poem of sentiment. 
 
 At this salute Marina becomes deadly pale and almost repulses 
 lier, standing as if fighting back some mighty emotion. 
 
 " Don't you remember Edwin ? " falters Enid, who still embraces 
 the Corsican. 
 
 " Remember him ? " and Marina seizes the English girl in her 
 arms and gives her a burning kiss that makes Barnes start and 
 mutter to himself, " She kissed the sister, but thought she was 
 kissing the brother ! " 
 
 " What an impulsive dear you are ! " says Miss Anstruther, 
 Arranging her somewhat disordered toilette, " Where are you 
 stopping here ? " * 
 
 " The Grand ! " says Marina, as in a dream. 
 
 " How nice ! so am I ! we'll go up together and talk about him ! " 
 Enid puts her arm in Marina's, and they leave Barnes behind 
 them, who follows in a very sulky mood, as he has no liking to 
 play second fiddle to anybody in Miss Anstruther's presence. 
 
 The next morning the two girls come down to breakfast to- 
 gether, a sure sign of friendship in woman, and Miss Anstruther 
 tells Mr. Barnes they have spent half the night in talking about 
 her brother. 
 
 " She told me of the message he asked her to send me when 
 lie thought he was about to die. And I showed her his letters to 
 uie afterwards all but one, that was a little too romantic about 
 her ! " 
 
 " So this Corsican is the English girl you've picked out for your 
 brother's wife ? "
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 93 
 
 " Not at all ! She cannot marry ! Marina is going to be a 
 nun ! " 
 
 "A mini" gasps Barnes in a helpless, stupid way. 
 
 " That's what I said ! A nun ! She tells me she will never 
 marry, that her life is consecrated ? " 
 
 " Of course ! Consecrated ! I forgot ! " 
 
 " Did you 1 You don't seem as clever as you generally are. 
 What are you going to do to amuse me this morning ? " says the 
 young lady with a pretty air of proprietorship, for she has begun 
 to discover that she can dictate to Mr. Barnes once in a while, 
 and rather enjoys it, " You said you would teach me how to 
 shoot a pistol ! " 
 
 And so they take the little Chartris girl, who makes almost too 
 effective a chaperon ; for she has ears and uses them ; and a tongue, 
 and will use it if they give her anything to talk about ; and pass 
 a very agreeable morning together, Enid winning a pair or two 
 of gloves on some impossible shots she forces Barnes to attempt. 
 
 She has not invited Marina to go with them, for she prefers the 
 American's company to that of any girl's ; though Marina makes 
 an agreeable distraction. 
 
 And the evening of the second day approaches that has a sur- 
 prise in it, and much misery for them both. There has been the 
 usual distractions of gay life at Monaco ; a German student, hav- 
 ing made love to red too constantly, being jilted, has blown out his 
 brains ; a Russian Prince has run away with an Austrian Coun- 
 tess, and a Greek adventurer has had a wonderful run of luck and 
 broken the bank. But the roulette ball runs round as viciously 
 as ever ; and this evening, though Barnes does not bet on its 
 eccentricities, Miss Anstruther does with the ardor of a devotee 
 and a woman, which means a good deal ; for nearly all the fair sex 
 are natural gamblers. There is a capriciousness in the fortune 
 they woo that is like themselves, and it attracts them ; being one 
 of the few notable exceptions to the great rule of nature, that sim- 
 ilarities repel each other. 
 
 The luck is a little against her, Mr. Barnes notes, as he sees in 
 the crush about one of the roulette tables, squeezed between Enid 
 and a Russian Princess, a woman he knows too well, and who, he 
 thinks, is unworthy to even breathe the same air as Miss Anstru- 
 ther. The lacly looks up and recognizes him pointedly ; and, in 
 that social republic, he responds by a slight bow. A moment 
 after the cattle king from Kansas, who had brought confusion 
 upon him that day in the Paris Salon, stamps into the room, forces 
 his way through the excited throng, and, standing behind the lady, 
 backs up her bets with liberal ardor ; and, she chancing to win, 
 he cries out, " Hello, Barnes of New York ; I say, this is squarer
 
 96 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 than three card monte", and most as good as American poker. We'll 
 have a game of that this evening after this is over, if it suits 
 you ! " 
 
 Mr. Barnes declines to play poker. Miss Anstruther looks up 
 arid remembers the cattle sovereign ; but, being deep in the mys- 
 teries of her system, which consists in betting on the odd numbers 
 believing in the old maxim pays little attention to any thing- 
 else ; and, this time being successful, grabs her winnings in an 
 eager manner, as if she feared the croupier would defraud her of 
 them. At this, the lady at her side says something to her ; and 
 Barns grinds his teeth together as he sees his goddess in the joy 
 of fortune, laugh and reply to her in a very pleasant off-hand sort 
 of manner. 
 
 After play is over, for Enid cannot be enticed away before, and 
 her admirer has a chance of a word with her, in fact, is bidding 
 her good-night at the Grand Hotel, Barnes suddenly says, " Do 
 you like gambling, Miss Anstruther?" 
 
 " I love it ! " cries the girl. 
 
 " Then I advise you to play no more ! " 
 
 " And why not 1 Do you fear I shall squander my fortune and 
 blow out my brains like poor Von Waldow, the German student? 
 If I couldn't take care ol my own, there are trustees in England 
 who grind me down to my allowance ! " The remark about trus- 
 tees is made with some bitterness. 
 
 " Certainly not ! But the excitement affects your spirits ; you. 
 exult too much when you win, and despair too much when you 
 lose ! " 
 
 " Oh, then I make a vulgar display of my passions ! " 
 
 " Not at all ! " replies Barnes, keeping his temper, for he sees 
 Enid has lost some of hers. " You know 1 do not mean to insinu- 
 ate that ; but to one who has known you as I do " 
 
 " Yes three days ! " 
 
 He pays no attention to this remark, which Miss Anstruther 
 throws in with rather a sneering emphasis ; but, goes on, " You 
 do not seem exactly yourself. Remember, I speak to you as a 
 friend ! " 
 
 " Of course ! unpleasant advice alwas comes from friends ? " a 
 slight interrogation can be marked in the lady's voice. 
 
 " Besides," here Barnes becomes very earnest, " the society of 
 the table is not exactly proper for a young girl like you. Did you 
 notice the woman who sat next you the woman you spoke to 
 of course you did not know her face it was that of the infamous 
 La Belle Blackwood ! " 
 
 Barnes has lost his head and left himself open for a tremendous 
 return shot, and he gets it.
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 97 
 
 " But you did ! Yes, and bowed to her, too, when you were in 
 my company ; do you suppose I would have spoken to the crea- 
 ture unless you had guaranteed her by your bow ! " 
 
 " I ! " murmurs Barnes, who had not expected this view of his 
 conduct, 
 
 " Yes ! " cries the young lady, who is now thoroughly angry 
 and will give no quarter, " and you know her address in Paris, 
 and told it to the cattle scoundrel ; and fibbed about it, in very 
 shame, saying you had read it in the Figaro, when I looked over 
 every line of that paper and it wasn't there ! Oh, it is noble in 
 you to reproach me with having brushed past her in a crowd ! " 
 
 " Very well ! " says Barnes, who concludes that he had better not 
 discuss La Belle Blackwood any more that evening, "Continue to 
 play, but remember that I warn you, you will regret it before three 
 days ! " 
 
 " Will I ? Not so much as you will regret insulting me ! " And 
 planting this Parthean arrow in her worshiper's heart with a very 
 savage glance in her eyes, Miss Anstruther rushes up the stairs 
 and flies to her room. 
 
 As for Barnes, he walks out into the moonlight, thinks it the 
 blackest night of the season, and says in a horrified way, " If [ 
 have lost her ! She's not an angel, but I want her more than all 
 the angels in Heaven ! " Then he mutters to himself, " If I don't 
 win this battle she will despise me, and ' the other one ' will get 
 her ! " This sets him to thinking deeply. He knows La Belle 
 Blackwood too well, not to know she will address Miss Anstru- 
 'ther again. She has that self-assertive diablery that loves to 
 insult the world from which she is cast out, and had made her 
 infamy very famous by several times furnishing the Parisian journ- 
 als with piquant little paragraphs in which her name has been 
 coupled with that of ladies of the grand-monde. 
 
 Barnes makes up his mind that by no chance shall this happen 
 to the object of his devotion, so he walks off to the Hotel de Paris, 
 and sends up his card to La Blackwood, and, while waiting that 
 Aspasia's answer, sees to his joy a miserable little French dandy 
 come sneaking down stairs and go off into the darkness. I have 
 a card that'll fix Madam la Diablo now, he reflects, as he is shown 
 to that lady's luxurious apartments. 
 
 La Blackwood receives Mr. Barnes effusively. 
 
 " Ah ! mon cher" she says, speaking between the puffs of a 
 deliciously flavored Russian cigarette, and half reclining in a lan- 
 guid feline manner in a sumptuous arm-chair, the blue satin of 
 which is in admirable contrast to the delicate tint of her dress 
 for she is in a masterpiece of Worth's, and looks as fresh as a vio- 
 let after all her years of dissipation " Make yourself at home, my 
 (7)
 
 98 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 boy. Will you have a glass of Chambertin, a cigarette, or 
 both ! " 
 
 " Neither ! thank you ! " replies the gentleman coolly. 
 
 " Then take a chair ! If you're not always thirsty you are 
 always lazy ! " 
 
 " Not at present ! I am here on business ! Unpleasant busi- 
 ness ! " 
 
 " You 1 Business ? " The lady opens her eyes in supreme sur- 
 prise, "You never did any business before in your life ! " 
 
 " Perhaps not, but I'm going to do a stroke to night ! You 
 addressed this evening at the Casino a young English girl ? " 
 
 " Ah ! The one with whom you are so much in love ! I can see 
 you have always good taste ! Your charmer is here alone ? " 
 This last question is put with such a leering insinuation that if 
 Barnes had any thought of sparing the miserable creature one pang 
 in the interview he throws it away. 
 
 " No ! " he replies. " Had she been of your kind I should have 
 nothing to say to you on the matter. She is under the charge of 
 Lady Chartris ; and you dared to speak to her publicly this even- 
 ing." 
 
 "And why not, if I cared to? " 
 
 " Because your addressing her was an impertinence ! " 
 
 " Was it? " says the lady, yawning politely in Mr. Barnes' face, 
 "then I shall be impertinent again to-morrow ! " 
 
 " Excuse me, you will not ! " 
 
 " And why not, man cher ? " 
 
 " Because you are going to leave Monaco to-morrow morning 
 before Miss Anstruther gets up ! " 
 
 " And what makes you think that, imbecile 1 " says La Black- ' 
 wood, who is beginning to get angry, though she likes Barnes in i 
 a general sort of way. 
 
 " Because I am going to compel you to leave ! " 
 
 "You? You are impertinently funny ! Tell me how? you idiot!": 
 
 " Because, if you don't, I shall tell Ruggles that M. de Cravasse 
 is here, and it won't take him long to find out who that gentle- 
 man is ! " 
 
 " So you would betray me? " she answers, for the cattle king's < 
 millions are at present an object to her. " But I shall not go all ; 
 the same. I love money a great deal, but I'll risk a break with 
 M. Ruggles to make you unhappy, you miserable canaille of a 
 canaille nation ! " and she lashes herself into a fury, and calls 
 Barnes and his and her country too, for that matter some very 
 unpleasant names, for La Black wood has the temper of a fiend j 
 when she allows herself the luxury of giving it an outing, which < 
 is pretty often.
 
 ME. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 93 
 
 Mr. Barnes stands before her and takes her infective in silence, 
 but with a very ugly look on his face ; for he has played his card 
 and lost. He had supposed the woman loved money more titan 
 all else, and he now finds she likes her wickedness even better. 
 
 Seeing he makes no move to go, she finishes in these words : 
 " You come to me, a priestess of vice, and prate of virtue ; vou, 
 who call yourself a man of the world, that means the same as 
 harlot in woman ! You wish to shield your innocent Miss, who 
 is innocent because she is not old enough to have learnt vice ; and 
 to protect her dainty exclusiveness you insult me ? Fool ! you 
 know I always keep my word j and I swear to you if she comes 
 to the Casino to-morrow I will kiss her lips and if she resents it, 
 which has the most to lose by scandal, your immaculate angel or 
 ' La Belle Blackwood ? ' And now, the door ! " giving him an 
 invitation to go with a very impressive gesture of the hand. 
 
 Barnes knows the woman will keep her word. To prevent 
 Enid's going to the Casino involves an explanation that in all 
 probability may cost him what he dares not contemplate ; for he 
 knows the haughty pride of Miss Anstruther. He almost staggers 
 from the room. 
 
 But as he goes out La Blackwood gives him a burst of mocking 
 laughter, and cries after him, " My kiss won't hurt your baby ; I 
 was innocent myself once ! " 
 
 A flash of thought, and Mr. Barnes comes back into her pres- 
 ence, and says shortly and in a hoarse voice, for he is very des- 
 perate now, and will spare no man or woman to save the girl he 
 loves from any scandal or annoyance. " Do you know a man 
 named John Marshall Spotts, of Cresline, Ohio 1 " 
 
 She gives a gasp ! 
 
 " Do you know a woman named Martha Strowbridge Spotts of 
 tiie same place?'' 
 
 " My God ! " 
 
 " Within two weeks from this time there will be placed in their 
 hands a portrait of you : a description of you, and your life and 
 career taken from the Paris journals. Also a remark about that 
 little scar upon the back of your fair neck. Yes ! that one you 
 put your hand to the one you wear the lace to hide. Do you 
 think they will know ' La Belle Blackwood ' then ? " 
 
 " Oh, God ! My mother ! They think me dead ! It will kill 
 her ! " And this woman who has fought her fight in all her pride 
 of folly and wickedness, falls on the floor and writhes and grovels 
 at his feet, crying between her panting sobs, " Have mercy ! 
 Have mercy ! '' 
 
 " Then leave Monaco before nine o'clock to-morrow morning, or 
 you know I will keep my word ! " Barnes leaves the miserable
 
 100 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 wouian, confident that he has won his battle, and going to his 
 hotel mutters a prayer the first he has uttered for years " That 
 he may win his idol yet ! " which, being of a practical mind, be- 
 comes very like a petition to Providence that Miss Anstruther 
 may have an awful run of bad luck at the roulette tables, and so 
 be brought to bow down to him and acknowledge him as her 
 guardian angel once more. An event that is very likely to happen. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 BORROW IT FROM BARNES J 
 
 THE next morning Mr. Barnes, who rises earlier than is his 
 usual habit, strolls over to the Hotel de Paris and enquires for La 
 Blackwood. He is informed by the clerk, with a shrug of his 
 French shoulders, that Madame has gone. " She complained of 
 malaria ; malaria in the Riviera ? " 
 
 " And M. Ruggles ? " 
 
 " He has followed after her ; he was very angry ; he was 
 swearing ! " 
 
 Barnes wonders whether the proprietor, who has a kindly greet- 
 ing for him, would look upon him with so much complacency if he 
 knew that it was to his kind offices he owed the loss of two of his 
 most extravagant guests. He goes over to the Grand Hotel and 
 sees Enid and Marina come down to breakfast once more together ; 
 the two young ladies having discovered, perhaps, that they are an 
 excellent contrast ; one, dark and grand ; the other, fair and 
 graceful. 
 
 Miss Anstruther appears a picture of vivacious tenderness to 
 all in the party, save Barnes ; she figuratively tickles Lady Char- 
 tris' fat sides by one or two little bonmots from the Parisian news- 
 papers, and compliments Maud on a new dress, till that practical 
 and outspoken infant says suspiciously, "What do you want me 
 to do for you, Enid ? You can't bribe me with words ; I'm not 
 Mr. Barnes. Why haven't you spoken to him ? he's been looking 
 at you for five minutes ! " 
 
 Thus compelled, Miss Anstruther says, " Good morning ! " to 
 the object of her displeasure, in a frozen voice and with a glacial 
 glance ; then, not waiting for his reply, rushes into an animated 
 conversation with Marina that lasts through breakfast, trying to 
 show how excitedly happy she is; and, in this, being easily dis-
 
 MR. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 101 
 
 tanced by the beautiful Corsican ; the real article beating the 
 sham, as for some mysterious reason Marina is to-day a creature 
 of joy. 
 
 Barnes imagines it is because Enid makes her feel Edwin is 
 near her. 
 
 They have hardly finished the meal when old Tomasso enters 
 and with respectful reverence announces to his mistress, " Sig- 
 norita, the carriage for you is at the door ! " 
 
 At this both the young ladies go to their room for their hats ; 
 some expedition apparently being in their plans for the day. Mr. 
 Barnes walks out and posts himself by the carriage, determined 
 to see if Miss Anstruther will stick to the line she has taken 
 through breakfast with him. 
 
 Marina comes down first ; and as he places her in the laiicau, 
 she gives him a little squeeze of the hand and says, " Thanks, Mr 
 Barnes, for your pleasant acquaintances ; you have made my life 
 that was lonely here, very happy. But what have you done to 
 Enid? She is extremely angry with you?" 
 
 Reply is here interrupted by Miss Anstruther, who coldly ac- 
 cepts Mr. Barnes" assistance to step into the carriage ; but her 
 manner indicates that it is under protest, and instead of thanks 
 she gives him a very ugly flash of her eyes. 
 
 Marina, apparently anxious to palliate her companion's coldness 
 of manner, says, " We are going for a little drive towards Men- 
 tone, would you " here she pauses with a little gasp of pain, for 
 Enid has given her a cruel pinch, and before she can complete the 
 intended invitation, Miss Anstruther remarks cuttingly, " We 
 would ask you to join us, but fear to take you from your other lady 
 friends ! " 
 
 With that the carriage drives off, old Tomasso sitting gravely 
 011 the box beside the driver, and the two girls in a feminine dis- 
 pute about something. 
 
 " I don't envy poor Marina her ride with my angel this morn- 
 ing. What a fiendish pinch she gave her to cut off my invitation," 
 thinks the American. " I suppose other lady friends means La 
 Belle Blackwood. What a cursed dull place Monaco is ! " and he 
 gives a sigh and longing look at the carriage that is just getting 
 out of sight. Then goes in to do the agreeable to Lady Chartris 
 and family ; but, making very poor work of this, he wanders off 
 to the Casino, where he meets some men from ISTew York, who 
 have come there in a yacht , and they have a very wild day of it, 
 though perhaps not a merry one for poor Barnes. 
 
 The two young ladies came back from their drive, if possible, 
 better friends than before , and soon go arm in arm to the Casino, 
 where Miss Anstruther rather shocks her companion by the
 
 iO'2 MR. BABXES OP NEW YORK. 
 
 desperate manner of her play ; wins an amount of money that 
 astonishes her, and comes back to dinner with a reckless triumph 
 on her face that makes it look very beautiful and rather naughty. 
 Mr. Barnes being present, she displays her luck by giving Miss 
 Maud Chartris a couple of twenty -franc pieces for a present ; and 
 telling that infant prodigy of her wonderful fortune and the great 
 profits of her play, until Maud's eyes grow very large with greed 
 of gain and lust to win herself ; and Enid has raised up a spirit in 
 the little girl, that ultimately turns upon and rends her and 
 strikes her to the earth upon a later day ; for she has made that 
 juvenile prodigy crazy to gamble. 
 
 After bolting her meal in an eager sort of way, for she is anxi- 
 ous to get back to her occupation again, and has a vague idea of 
 winning some fabulous sum and flaunting the gold in Mr. Barnes' 
 face, to show him how wise she is, an'd how foolish he was ; Miss 
 Anstruther seizes upon Marina again, and drags her off to the 
 roulette tables, attended by old Tomasso. 
 
 It is night ; the lights, the surging crowd of people, the music 
 from the far-off band all excite this wild young lady, and she 
 plays with a feverish energy, that alarms Marina, who cautions 
 her, and gets snubbed for her advice. 
 
 The luck, after one or two little fluctuations, settles against 
 her; and Miss Anstruther goes home in a very angry mood against 
 fate, and the world, and Mr. Barnes. Consequently, that gentle- 
 man, the next morning, gets a genuine astonishment ; not from 
 Enid, but from Mademoiselle Paoli. 
 
 He doesn't see Miss Anstruther; she has a headache; but 
 Marina greets him at breakfast with marked coolness ; and, 
 a few minutes after, happening to see him alone in the hallway, 
 this peculiar young Corsican comes to him, a great flash of 
 anger in her eyes and says sharply, " A word with you, Signor 
 Barnes ! " 
 
 " A hundred, if you are kind enough to talk to me, Mademoiselle 
 Faoli ! " here he stops and looks at her in astonishment, for her 
 great brown Spanish eyes are like coals of fire. 
 
 She doesn't keep him long in suspense, or beat about for any 
 delicate expression, for she opens in these astounding words, 
 " What makes you such a villain ? " 
 
 " 1 1 a villain ? " stammers Barnes, who isn't quite sure he 
 understands her. 
 
 " Yes ! a villain ! What have you been doing to Enid 1 " 
 
 " I ? Nothing ! " 
 
 "That is not true! Why did she treat you so coldly yester- 
 day?" 
 
 " Why, really "
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 103 
 
 " Ah ! you dare not answer ! And what did you do to her last 
 evening ! " 
 
 " 1 1 nothing ! I didn't see her ! " 
 
 " Impossible ! last night we returned from the Casino ; she 
 was in feverish spirits. Half an hour afterwards I chanced to 
 pass her room : love has sharp ears, and I caught a sound of 
 suffering. At first she refused to admit me, but I told her I 
 would break down the door, and then I found her in tears. She 
 passed half the night sobbing in my arms ; I took the place that 
 should have been occupied by you ! " 
 
 " Yes ah, of course, I should have been delighted to have 
 been there ! " murmurs Barnes, who wonders which of them is 
 an idiot. 
 
 " And yet she said you had insulted her ? You have led her on 
 to love you, and now you are breaking her heart ! " 
 
 " I am delighted to hear that ! " says Barnes, in rapture. 
 
 " Ah ! And you glory in it ! But remember that I love Enid, 
 and that if you play with her heart you shall answer to me, 
 Marina Paoli ! " She leaves Barnes, but turning at the head of 
 the stairs she hears a succession of shrill sounds, and then mutters 
 to herself, " The heartless one ; destroying Enid's happiness and 
 whistling joyously over it ! " 
 
 For this communication gives Barnes as much delight, as it 
 would have given Miss Anstruther chagrin if she had known that 
 he received it. He murmurs to himself, " The roulette tables are 
 playing my game for me with a vengeance Breaking her heart 1 
 My darling ! " and goes about whistling the merriest airs of the 
 merriest French operas, even enduring with wonderful sang-froid, 
 a fearful stab with the eyes that Enid gives him when she makes 
 her appearance an hour or so afterwards. 
 
 Miss Anstruther makes an attack on the tables that afternoon 
 and returns to the hotel a heavy loser ; and, at night, being des- 
 perate, from a mighty desire to compel Barnes to own that she is 
 right and can take care of herself at roulette, she puts in her 
 satchel all the available funds she commands, except a little 
 rouleau of gold that, the one flash of reason remaining to her that 
 evening, counsels her to keep for an emergency, and, getting 
 Marina to accompany her, goes to the Casino ; not to woo fortune, 
 but to conquer it. 
 
 " I will win ! " she hisses to herself, clenching her two rows of 
 pearls together that serve her as teeth ; and whoever has said 
 those unlucky three words, knows that they are a spell against 
 good luck. 
 
 This is the case with Miss Anstruther, and all through the 
 evening she no sooner places her stake than it is raked in by the
 
 104 MB. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 croupier, whom she begins to regard as an imp of darkness. She 
 can't lose forever, she thinks, and makes a bold try for fortune by 
 betting on a single number, and wins thirty-five times the 
 amount of her wager. Marina, who has been astounded at the 
 sums Enid has lost, whispers to her, " Come away ; it is luck 
 enough for to-night ! " 
 
 And so she will. She is holding out her hand for her money 
 when she sees Mr. Barnes looking at her. " He will think his 
 power drove me away," mutters Miss Hothead. She shakes off 
 Marina's hand that would draw her from her fascination, and bets 
 more recklessly than ever. And now fortune leaves her entirely ; 
 and goes from bad to worse until she must stop, because her last 
 louis has been staked and lost. But Barnes is still looking 
 earnestly at the girl ; she thinks, with a lurking smile ; so, she 
 whispers hurriedly to Marina, 
 
 " Certainly ! " says the latter, " you know what I have is 
 yours ; all English are rich, I believe ; but you must be very 
 wealthy to lose as you lose ! " 
 
 Enid bori'ows from the Corsican an amount equal to what she 
 has left behind her at the hotel. " This I can pay to-morrow ! " 
 replies the English girl, and will take no more. But this she 
 bets very wildly, and in a few minutes says to Marina, " It is 
 the last, and it is gone ! " 
 
 Then, looking about for fear Barnes may be near and see her 
 misfortune, she whispers, " Come, let us go home, I'm tired of 
 bad luck ! " 
 
 So the two walk to the hotel together in the moonlight, attended 
 by Tomasso, who is like his mistress' shadow in this wicked 
 place, though perhaps he may have had his orders from Count 
 Danella, who never forgets anything. 
 
 " Will yon come up to my room and get your money, Marina," 
 says Miss Anstruther, " or shall I pay you in the morning ! " 
 
 " At your leisure, mia migia ! " and the Corsican girl kisses 
 the English one; then after a little murmurs, "You are like 
 your brother ; he is reckless also ! " 
 
 " Oh ! my losses are a mere bagatelle ! " replies Miss Anstruther, 
 airily, for she has a fearful pride in her this night ; and goes up 
 the stairs very haughtily. But, getting to her own room this 
 mere bagatelle makes her sigh and shudder and give a little groan. 
 She has squandered her quarter's allowance ; she has drawn every 
 franc of her letter of credit. She remembers she has unpaid 
 bills. When she has given Marina her money in the morning, 
 she will have to borrow from Lady Chartris and Lady Chartris, 
 she knows, is a most uncomfortable woman from whom to borrow. 
 Then she thinks of the cause of all* her woe. Oh, if he had not
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 105 
 
 said cruel things to her about her passion for gambling but she 
 forgives him ; it was that awful woman. And she imagines La 
 Belle Blockwood as a kind of female dragon, devouring innocent 
 youths that look like Mr. Barnes, and cries out to herself, " The 
 horrid monster ! I could kill her ! " and clenches her fists as if 
 to do it. 
 
 But here this chivalrous feminine Saint George utters a sup- 
 pressed shriek, her doubty knees strike together and she nearly 
 faints; for in the subdued light of the room, concealed under 
 the clothes of her bed, she sees a hidden form, a burglar, or a man 
 or something, and is about to let forth a cry that will raise the 
 hotel, when Maud Chartris puts her curly head from under the 
 sheets, and in a pathetic whisper says, " Enid ! don't shriek ; it's 
 only me ? Don't scream, but forgive me ! " 
 
 " What are you doing here ? you frightful child ! Get out of 
 my bed ! " 
 
 " Not till you swear you won't tell ma ! " Here Miss Chartris 
 begins, to sob, and Enid can see the child is really in earnest. 
 " Tell your ma what 1 " 
 
 " Tell her that I stole I borrowed all your money ! " 
 
 " My rouleau of gold 1 " gasps Enid, rushing to her drawer and 
 opening it, tremblingly. 
 
 " Yes ! You needn't look there ; it's all gone ! " 
 
 " Wretch ! you have stolen my honor ! " cries Miss Anstruther, 
 in a voice like Lady Macbeth's, and seizes the child who has 
 brought despair upon her, and drags her to the floor, where she 
 lies groveling for mercy among the bedclothes she has carried 
 with her, for her victim's face and manner almost paralyze this 
 youthful culprit. 
 
 " Where has it gone 1 How have you lost it ? " 
 
 " I played it away at roulette ; you bragged to me last night 
 how you won money, and I thought I could win too, and so I 
 borrowed it and and lost it to-night after dinner, and swear you 
 won't tell ma ! She'll kill me she'll ! " Here Miss Chartris 
 becomes inaudible for sobs. 
 
 " My Heaven ! I must have that money to morrow ! I must 
 borrow it from your mother ! " 
 
 " Borrow it from ma?" a howl of apprehension on the last 
 word, " It'll all come out ! If she knows she's got to pay back 
 money I stole, shell I darsen't think I shall be sent back to 
 England ! Oh, Enid ! Mercy ! Don't tell her ! Don't ! Don't ! " 
 and the frightened criminal goes into another convulsion of 
 despair. 
 
 A moment's reflection shows Enid that Maud is certainly correct 
 as to the pains and penalties that will come upon her if her
 
 106 MR. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 
 
 mothers discovers ; for, if there is one crime in the Decalogue 
 that Lady Chartris would visit upon her guilty offspring in a fear- 
 ful manner, it would be the one that compelled her to pay out 
 money for that fault. Even in all her own misery Enid can't help 
 pitying the miserable child, whose crime she grimly thinks is not 
 much worse than her own, as she looks at her sobbing at her feet. 
 She takes her in her arms and soothes her and says, " Maud, 
 darling, you need not fear ; your mother shall never know ! " 
 " Promise ? " 
 "Yes!" 
 
 " Then you're a brick ! " She has learnt this slang from Mr. 
 Barnes. And Maud becoming smiles again, for she knows Enid's 
 word is her bond, takes to kissing that young lady, who is very 
 miserable, and sits in a stunned way, giving little gasps of des- 
 pair. After a little Miss Anstruther begins to sigh, and say, 
 " What shall I do I must have the money ! " 
 " Must you have the money to-morrow, Enid ? " 
 " Of course I must why do you bother me ?" says the young 
 lady helplessly. 
 
 " Well, then I'll get it for you ! " cries Maud, who has hidden 
 herself in the bed without removing any article of her dress, 
 springing eagerly up. 
 
 " Get it forme? What nonsense! How?" asks Enid, only 
 half heeding her. 
 
 " Borrow it from Barnes ! " screams Maud, and darts from the 
 room. 
 
 These fearful words fly through Miss Anstruther like an 
 electric shock ! There could be no shame, no degradation like 
 that. She rushes after the girl calling to her wildly to come back. 
 It is only ten o'clock and the grounds are pretty full of people, 
 and Miss Anstruther cannot catch sight of the child,, though 
 she even leaves the hotel to do so ; for the horrible thought of 
 what Maud means to do makes every nerve in her body tingle 
 with an agony of humiliation. " Borrow it from Barnes ! Bor- 
 row it from Barnes ! " sings in her ears, and every throb of her 
 heart brings a flush of deeper shame to her face. 
 
 So it comes to pass that Enid, after wandering about the 
 grounds for a few minutes, returns to the house to find herself 
 confronted by Maud, who has Mr. Barnes by the hand and has 
 just been explaining something to him in a very eager and excited 
 manner. 
 
 Miss Anstruther comes straight up to them ; there is a high 
 color on her cheeks and a sparkle in her eye, as she says, very 
 angrily to Maud, " Do not dare to speak another word go up- 
 stairs and go to bed, or I shall forgec the promise I made you ! "
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 107 
 
 The object of her speech gives one look at her, collapses and 
 shrinks into the house, and the young lady turns to Mr. Barnes. 
 
 That gentleman as he looks at her has a kind of an inspiration 
 that his fate will be settled within the next five minutes. He 
 knows, if he wounds her pride in the slightest, Enid Anstruther 
 will never speak to him again ; so he waits for her to begin, 
 wondering if this is the last time he will ever hear her voice. 
 
 " What has that child been saying to you about me ? " The 
 question is put most uncompromisingly, and Barnes knows it is 
 best to answer it truly. So he gives a little account of what 
 Maud has told him, which is simply a statement of what had 
 occurred in her room. " As I understood her," he adds, " Maud 
 had taken, unknown to you, a sum of money of which you were 
 in need to-morrow ; if you asked Lady Chartris to lend you the 
 money, she feared her mother would discover her fault, and you 
 being anxious to save the child from punishment had promised 
 her not to apply to her mother, and so she came to me ! " 
 
 " Of course you know I did not send her on such an errand ! " 
 
 " Of course not ! " says Barnes promptly. 
 
 " Certainly not after the way you have treated me ! " con- 
 tinues Enid with a reproach in her voice. 
 
 She has opened the argument ; Barnes knows she hesitates and 
 that he has her, and disarms her with this speech : " You are 
 right ; I apologize for the injustice I did you the other evening. 
 I reproached you because in the Casino you spoke to a woman 
 unworthy of your notice. Your innocence could not know her 
 by sight, my wickedness did ; but like most men of the world, 
 I have been, perhaps, a little careless, for I have had nothing to 
 anchor me to goodness." 
 
 This is very cunning, as Barnes says nothing of his warning 
 Enid against her passion for gambling, in which he was all right, 
 and only speaks of the La Belle Blackwood side of the episode in 
 which he was all wrong. 
 
 He gets the advantage of this in the girl's reply, " Yes but 
 men have so many temptations ! " 
 
 " So we have ! " says Mr. Barnes, " if I had been poor I might 
 have been better." 
 
 "I do not regard wealth as such an evil ! " says Miss 
 Anstruther. 
 
 " Nor I, at present ! " echoes Barnes, " for it enables me to do 
 something that will make me very happy if you will permit it. 
 Won't you tell me exactly how I can aid you in this matter, in 
 which you have treated Maud so nobly ? Come out for a little 
 "walk, we will be more alone on the grounds ! " 
 
 Miss Anstruther finds it hard to be very angry with him, and 
 hey go off' together.
 
 108 ME. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 "Now," he says, " you consented to accept a service from me 
 in Lyons, when you knew me not as well as you do now ; will you 
 hesitate to do me a like honor this evening ? " 
 
 This reminds the girl of his consideration for her, during the 
 embarrassments of her railway journey ; she grows very tender 
 towards him, and tells him all her troubles of the last two days, 
 and he arranges her money difficulties in an easy off-hand man- 
 ner, that takes all embarrassment from her. She is to write to 
 her brother ; and when he sends her the funds as he is sure to 
 do she will repay Mr. Barnes. 
 
 This agony being off her hands, her spirit seem to leap from 
 bondage, and she is more charming than ever she has been to him 
 before, perhaps because she is a little more self-conscious in her 
 manner and blushes once or twice when she looks at him, as they 
 come back to the hotel. " Then," says Mr. Barnes, " you prefer 
 being under obligations to me rather than to Mademoiselle 
 Paoli?" 
 
 " Y-e-s, a little ! " bashfully. 
 
 " And you like me better than you did the other evening 1 " 
 
 " Very much ! " 
 
 " And why 1 " 
 
 " Because you haven't scolded me when to-night I really 
 deserve it ; for I have been a gambler for the last two days and 
 was in awful trouble if you hadn't helped me oh, why are you 
 so kind to me?" And desperately fearing an answer to this 
 question, Enid runs up-stairs ; but before going to her own room 
 opens softly the door of the wicked Chartris infant, and stealing 
 up to her gives that sleeping criminal a most affectionate kiss. 
 
 Barnes looks out of his window and wonders why Monaco is 
 such a jolly place, and says, " To-morrow ! " as if he meant it to 
 be a very important day in his life.
 
 ME. BARNES OF NEW YOBS. 109 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 THE TELEGRAM FROM GIBRALTAR. 
 
 THE next day is a very bright one at Monaco; the sun rises 
 gloriously in all its Mediterranean splendor, perhaps a little too 
 warm when not tempered by the gentle sea-breeze of the Riviera, 
 but, in the shade of the olive trees and ilex, the temperature is 
 perfect. It would be romantic to any one not dead to all the 
 charms of nature, but to Barnes, as he dresses himself, looking out 
 of his window on the quiet scene, it seems an inspiration. He 
 mutters " To-day /" to himself; then looks at his hand to see if 
 it is as steady as usual, and proudly says, " Not a tremor ! " though 
 what he means by this it would be difficult for any one but him- 
 self to tell 
 
 Miss Anstruther comes down to breakfast. She has no head- 
 ache this morning, and gives him one or two flashes of the eye 
 and several little blushes in a curious, wistful, pathetic sort of 
 manner, though she seems in a kind of half fright and doesn't eat 
 very much. 
 
 Towards the end of the meal Lady Chartris says, " You have 
 lost your appetite, Enid ! " 
 
 " Yes ! and I know what caused it ! " this last comes from 
 Maud, who has regained her spirits over night. " It's because of 
 that letter you got this morning, ma ! That tells that ' the other 
 one ' is coming ! " , 
 
 " The other one ? " says the girl's mother. " I don't under- 
 stand oh ! ah ! yes ! Lord Ferris ! " and then, seeing she has 
 made a slip of the tongue for Miss Anstruther is a very red col- 
 or, and Barnes is cutting his beefsteak as savagely as if he were 
 operating upon " the other one " in person Lady Chartris turns 
 upon her too candid offspring, and in a voice that carries' dismay 
 to that young lady, remarks, " Have I not told you, Maud, never 
 to read my letters ! Go up-stairs and go to bed ! " 
 Ma, I haven't had any breakfast ! " 
 
 ' Go up stairs! " 
 
 1 Ma ! I haven't " 
 
 ' Obey me ! " 
 
 'Ma a ! " This last is a wail of anguish in the distance. 
 
 Barnes looks up and finds Miss Anstruther gone also. Arising, 
 he steps out on to the balcony, and lighting a cigar, after a puff or
 
 110 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 two, says to himself, " No time like the present ! " then walks 
 into the gardens of the Casino. Here, after looking about for 
 some little time, he sees the fluttering of a dress he knows on the 
 most retired part of the terrace ; and, following it, throws away 
 his weed, and says very gently, " Enid ! " 
 
 Thus it comes to pass that half an hour afterward Maud Char- 
 tris bursts into Marina's room and whispers to her in a hoarse 
 voice, " Don't cry out ! Ma thinks I'm in bed ! But go down and 
 save Enid ! " 
 
 " Save Enid ! From what ? " cries the beautiful Corsican, 
 springing up, her eyes brightening at the thought of danger to 
 one she loves. 
 
 " From that fearful Mr. Barnes ! He's making her cry behind 
 the olive trees on the terrace 1 " 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 ' I mean that he's engaged to her ! It's awful ! I I " (the 
 child is panting from excitement) " I had never seen a girl asked 
 to marry before I knew he was up to it ; and so, instead of going 
 to bed, I I sneaked down the other way and followed him, and 
 Oh ! they frightened me ! " 
 
 At this, Marina laughs a little, and then sighs. 
 
 " When I first saw them, from behind some rose-bushes, he was 
 a little way from her, and she was shooting such flashes from her 
 eyes at him that I thought she would frighten him away. But he 
 is very brave, he is, and he came near to her and said three words 
 ' I love you ! ' and they nearly knocked her down ; for she got al! 
 limp and would have fallen, but he caught her and held her to 
 him. And then she began to say, 'How he astonished her !' 
 which was a lie and he whispered something I couldn't catch 
 but it seemed to knock her out of time, and she sneaked at hint 
 just one look that seemed to set him crazy." 
 
 ' And Enid said nothing ? " asks Marina, excitedly. 
 
 ' ' How could she open her lips when he was kissing her so .' 
 Then, he asked her something about a month, and she cried, ' Oh, 
 no ! not so soon ! ' And then he said, ' Two months ! ' And she 
 said, ' Do as you will ; you have robbed me of my heart only 
 don't break it by giving it back to me ! ' I learnt that last sen- 
 tence coming up here I thought it would be nice to say myself, 
 some day ! " 
 
 But here Marina suddenly quiets the loquacious Maud with 
 this astounding invective, " Not another word, you miserable 
 one ! You have desecrated with your eyes the holy mystery of n 
 woman's life, and told Die ofitf"
 
 MB. BARNES OF NEW YORK. Ill 
 
 " L a thought you wanted to hear ! Why, you were pump- 
 ing me ! " 
 
 "Of such a secret? Never ! Get to your apartment, and if I 
 see your face again to-day your mother shall know of your atro- 
 city ! Away ! " And she sends the infant prodigy sobbing to bed 
 with a fierce glance of her Corsican eyes and a majestic wave of 
 her hand. 
 
 Marina has a woman's curiosty and a woman's conscience : Maud 
 had tempted her curiosity, and she did eat, but, having gorged her- 
 self, conscience reigned in her once more ; and she turned upon the 
 creature who had tempted her, as Eve, the first woman, did upon 
 the serpent. 
 
 The child's last sob having vanished in the distance, Marina 
 sheds a little tear herself. Her eyes are still red from this exer- 
 cise when Miss Anstruther walks cooly in ; though there is a blush 
 on her face and her hair is a little out of trim, as she says, " Why 
 did you not come with me for my walk after breakfast ? " 
 
 " So you went alone 1 " asks Marina, gazing at her curiously. 
 
 " Yes ; but at the last, Burton I mean, Mr. Barnes took pity 
 on my loneliness, and why do you look at me so 1 Heavens ! 
 whose been telling you ? " This last is given almost hysterically. 
 
 " Maud ! " 
 
 " Maud ? How did she know ? " 
 
 " She saw ! " 
 
 " Great Heavens ! She did not see him kiss ? Oh ! Marina ! 
 I that fearful child ! I must find her ? She'll tell the hotel 
 Oh! what shall I do !" 
 
 Tears of mortification and shame are in Enid's eyes ; she is 
 about to run from the room to seize upon this female Peeping 
 Tom and bribe her with kindness or terrify her with threats, 
 when Marina puts her arm round her and says, " I've silenced 
 Maud she's in bed for all day ; and now tell me you love him, 
 Carissima ? 
 
 " Love him 1 Do you suppose I'd marry him in two months if 
 I didn't ! " 
 
 " Two months would be a long time for me to wait, if I were 
 you ! " 
 
 "Yes ! You're a Ccrsican ; you'd marry him in a month, as he 
 wanted me to do you'd be as impetuous as he you'd suit him." 
 With this Miss Anstruther gives her a second-hand kiss of Mr. 
 Barnes, saying, " I have to leave you now ; I must write a letter 
 telling my brother Oh ! how shall I do it ? It is an awful thing 
 to be engaged ! " and she runs away. 
 
 Meantime Mr. Barnes has walked up and demanded the atten- 
 tion of Lady Chartris, and got it, from the very depths of her soul.
 
 1J2 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 "My dear Madam," he opens, "would you do me a favor ; 
 just write to Lord Ferris you know where he is at present ? " 
 
 " Yes ! " murmurs the matron, " He is in Nice to-day ; to- 
 morrow he will be here." 
 
 " Precisely," continues the American ; " write to him in Nice, 
 incidently mention in your letter, in a sort of casual, off-hand 
 manner, that Enid is engaged to marry me." 
 
 " Engaged to marry you ? " Lady Chartris repeats these words 
 after him in a scream of astonishment. 
 
 " Yes within two months 1 " 
 
 ' Within two months ! " 
 
 " I thought it just as well that Lord Ferris knew it, as it might 
 save Enid some embarrassment, and that gentleman a useless 
 journey, with disappointment, at the end of it ; besides it was a 
 duty to you as Miss Anstruther's chaperon to tell you at once ! " 
 
 "And Enid preferred you to a lord?" gasps Lady Chartris, for 
 a Lord is a big thing in her eyes, as her dead husband had only 
 been a knight. 
 
 " She had that peculiar taste ! " 
 
 " Very well ! I presume you have enough to support her in 
 the style in which she has been accustomed to live ? You will 
 excuse my asking the question, but Enid is very young, and I feel 
 responsible to her brother for her not making a mistake under my 
 tharge ! " 
 
 " Certainly ! " says Barnes. " You have a perfect right to be 
 answered on that point ! " 
 
 " "Very well ! " here Lady Chartris becomes grandly important. 
 " What are your expectations ? " 
 
 " Expectations ? Ah ! Oh, of money I suppose you mean ? I 
 haven't any ! " 
 
 " No expectations ? And you come here to marry a girl that 
 was the belle of the last London season ; whose family is one of 
 the oldest in England, and who might make a grand match ! " 
 
 { ' I've something better than expectations, I've the cash ! " says 
 Barnes slowly. 
 
 " What is your income ? " says the matron curiously. 
 
 " About sixty thousand a year ! " 
 
 " Pounds ? " almost screams Lady Chartris. 
 
 " No ! only dollars, I am sorry to say ; but it's enough ! " 
 
 " Enough ! I should say it was. Well, Burton I suppose I 
 must call you Burton now you know Enid is my cousin ; you've 
 got the best girl in England and I hope you'll make her happy 
 Sixty thousand dollars ; that's twelve thousand pounds a year of 
 course you'll make her happy. If I wasn't so young I'd kiss you ; 
 but it might make your fiancee jealous ! " and she shakes his hand 
 very cordially.
 
 MR. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 113 
 
 Mr. Barnes is well pleased that Lady Chartris is too young to 
 kiss him, but it sets him to thinking of his betrothed, and he says, 
 ' Lady Chartris, would you be kind enough to send Enid to me, 
 here ; and give us the use of your parlor for a little time ? I wish 
 to speak to her on a matter of business ! " 
 
 " Of course on a matter of business ? " and the frisky widow 
 gives a little laugh. 
 
 " Yes ! " echoes Barnes sternly, " Business ! I want to tell her 
 we have your consent ! " 
 
 This deference to her authority makes Lady Chartris his ally 
 nt once, and she says, " You can have my parlor as long as you 
 want, dear Mr. Barnes ! " then goes off' to do his bidding. 
 
 As he waits the coming of his love, that gentleman reflects that 
 having got his own affair pretty well in hand, he had better set- 
 tle his doubts in regard to Enid's brother, and goes to speculating 
 on that mystery. 
 
 His reverie is disturbed by a small hand being laid upon his 
 arm and a soft voice whispering, " What do you want me for ? " 
 
 He imprisons the hand asking, " Have you the letter written 
 for your brother 1 " 
 
 " Yes ! Here it is ! " and Miss Anstruther hands it to him. 
 
 " I sent mine off' half an hour ago," remarks Barnes, " for we've 
 got to be rushing things ! " He rings the bell and gives the epistle 
 to the servant to post. 
 
 ' And now I suppose that is all Bur-ton ? " 
 
 It is the first time she has ever called him by his Christian 
 name, though the girl blushes and hesitates, she lingers over it as 
 if she loves it ; yet, having said it, turns bashfully and makes a 
 show of going to the door. 
 
 " Not by a great deal ! " cries Barnes, catching her in her 
 retreat. 
 
 "No?" 
 
 "First," he laughs a little, "tell me why you stammered so 
 over my name don't you like it ? " 
 
 " Oh ! what makes you ask such questions ? Don't you know it 
 was the first time Burton 1 " here she gives a tremendous blush. 
 
 " Yes you said it much better the second time ! " says he medi- 
 tatively. " Do you know that Lady Chartris has loaned me this 
 parlor for an hour, and you're to spend the whole of it here ! " 
 
 " As I am to be your slave in two months, I presume I'd better 
 learn obedience at once ! " She says this with a very resigned 
 expression, and permits him to seat her on the sofa beside him. 
 
 " And now I wish to speak to you very seriously, Enid ! " 
 
 Here her eyes open in astonishment, as she turns them on him in 
 a pathetic way that sets his heart to beating, and cries, " Speak to
 
 114 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 me seriously ! I what have I done ! you're, you're not going to 
 scold me ! Oh ! you must have enchanted me ! I, who but yester- 
 day was proud I oh, if you ever treat me unkindly ! " 
 
 Now this kind of mood requires consolation, and after Barnes 
 has consoled hisjiancee, until they are both in the seventh Heaven 
 of happiness he remarks, " Apropos of obedience, I want to ask 
 you a very serious question ! " 
 
 Yes ! " 
 
 " I want you to tell me what you meant by making love to a 
 man in Marina's picture at Paris, and then saying it was a ruse 1 " 
 he asks this with intense earnestness, and receives a scream of 
 laughter for reply. After a minute Miss Anstruther manages to 
 gasp, " Why ! you're jealous of that creature on canvas ! " 
 
 ** Not a bit ! but all the same, I've a curiosity to know ! " 
 
 " Well, Mrs. Vavassour was teasing me about my my affection 
 for a certain gentleman Lord you know ' the other one ' 
 he's her nephew, and as she is a most persistent woman, I stopped 
 her by telling her my heart was gone selected the most harm- 
 less individual I could find to throw away my affections upon 
 and it was the ugly man of the canvas ! " 
 
 " Was that all 1 " 
 
 " Oh ! now you are jealous ! this is delightful ! Do you know 
 that at times," here 'she looks at Barnes closely,"you rather remind 
 me of him ! " 
 
 " Much obliged for your kind compliment ! May I ask you 
 another question ? " 
 
 " What, not satisfied 1 ? still jealous ! I'm afraid you will be my 
 Bluebeard ! " 
 
 " No, I am not jealous ! Some day you'll know that I could 
 not be jealous of him ! But you were interested in the picture 
 before that what made you so ! " 
 
 The laughter leaves Enid's face ; she hesitates a moment and 
 then says, " I know I ought to have no secrets from you Burton ! 
 but it is not my secret, it is another's." 
 
 "Very well, tell me what you can without compromising 
 any one," says Mr. Barnes. " Believe me, I don't ask without a 
 reason." 
 
 " What reason ? " asks Miss Anstruther, who has now become 
 curious herself. 
 
 Here the gentleman counters her with, " I know I ought to 
 have no secrets from you, Enid, but it is not my secret ; it is 
 another's." 
 
 " Ah," cries the young lady, " A secret tell me all about it ! " 
 
 " First answer my question." 
 
 " Well, it was a letter from Egypt that interested me in the
 
 MR. BARXES OP NEW YOKK. 115 
 
 picture ; it described a duel, with a lucky penny episode in it, 
 something like the one on the canvas ; but the encounter in my 
 letter did not end fatally for either combatant." 
 
 " The letter came from your brother, I suppose." 
 
 "I you see, I hardly like to tell you." 
 
 " Oh, then it did not come from your brother ? From some 
 other man I've no doubt !" 
 
 " Yes, it did come from my brother, you jealous creature," says 
 Miss Anstruther with a little laugh. 
 
 " Do you know the principal of the duel?" 
 
 " No ! Edwin did not tell me in fact he asked me to say noth- 
 ing about the affair ; as if it were known, it would bring the officer 
 to a court-martial. You know he couldn't get his comrade into a 
 scrape." 
 
 " Of course not." 
 
 " And now why did you want to know?" 
 
 "I was jealous," says Barnes, telling a story,- for he is now more 
 than ever certain that his suspicions in regard to Edwin Anstru- 
 ther are correct ; but he feels he cannot tell Enid her brother has 
 the blood of a fellow-creature on his soul ; and decides in his mind 
 that Edwin and Marina must never meet again. 
 
 "Jealous ! " says the girl, "jealous, first of a canvas man, then 
 of a man in a letter ! oh, what a life I shall lead you don't you 
 know I am a flirt ? " 
 
 " I've no doubt you used to be ! but now," replies Barnes, 
 attempting an Othello expression of the face, " you have reformed." 
 
 " Perhaps ! " remarks Enid, " I haven't got tired of you yet 
 I've only known you a week." 
 
 " Yes, just a week ago, you were cutting me in the most severe 
 manner on the railway train between Paris and Tonnerre," says 
 Barnes looking at his watch. 
 
 " A week ago I didn't know you ! and yet was happy now if 
 I didn't know you, life would be a blank to me ! " 
 
 " Oh ! there would still be ' the other one ! ' " laughs Barnes 
 airily. 
 
 At this he receives a glance of such reproach from Enid's eyes 
 that he feels he owes her reparation ; and there takes place be- 
 tween them a little poem of sentiment at which cynics would 
 sneer ; but that they enjoy so thoroughly that Lady Chartris finds 
 Mr. Barnes' business interview with his fiancee a very long one. 
 
 A week, shortened by happiness, soon flies round for these two 
 lovers, when, returning one evening, from a drive with Miss 
 Anstruther, Mr. Barnes finds waiting for him a letter from that 
 young lady's brother. The minute he opens it he knows that it 
 has been written by a thoroughly nice fellow. The communica- 
 tion reads as follows :
 
 116 MR. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 
 
 H. M. S. Seakrk, 
 "GIBRALTAR, May H, 1883. 
 " MY DEAR BARNES. 
 
 " You ask ray consent to your marriage with my sister. I grant 
 it for these reasons : First ; her letter to me of the same date, says 
 she is in love with you ; and that you are the one man in the world 
 that can make her happy which is all I ask, as she is very dear 
 to me. Second : if you approach reasonably near to the idea of 
 manly perfection that I know Enid holds, in regard to the being 
 worthy to be her mate, you must be a very fine fellow ; and, 1 am 
 sure, I shall be pleased with you when I meet you, which will be 
 in England in about two weeks, as the Sealark is ordered home. 
 
 " Now, in regard to business : Enid has 20,000 settled on her. 
 I am sure you will wish this settlement to remain unbroken. 
 
 " I have no objection to my sister's marrying an American, who 
 is rich enough to visit England with her ; and, from your state- 
 ment of your means, you and she will be able to live pretty well, 
 how, and where you please. 
 
 "The financial arrangements you propose are more generous than 
 I or ray sister ought to expect or ask. As your letter indicates 
 that you both are apparently anxious to sail in company as soon 
 as possible, you had better, on receipt of this, leave at once for 
 London, and there see H. Mortimer, Solicitor, No. 14 Cornhill. 
 He has been our family man of business for a generation or more ; 
 I have written to him in regard to you, and any settlement satis- 
 actory to him will be the same to me. Enid will return to Eng- 
 land under the charge of Lady Chartris, who I believe goes home 
 in about three weeks. 
 
 "Wishing you all happiness and congratulating you on having 
 won the best girl in all England and the dearest of sisters to me, 
 I am, 
 
 Yours most affectionately, 
 
 " EDWIN G. ANSTRUTHER." 
 
 This letter is exactly what Mr. Barnes wishes. He takes it to j 
 his lady-love, and hands it to her without comment. As she 
 reads, she says impulsively, " The dear fellow ! " and then, after a 
 little pause of consideration, " You notice he takes it for granted 
 that you are worthy of me ; I think he must have met you before !" 
 
 This is precisely what has been in Barnes' modest mind also. 
 41 1 agree with you I suppose you've lots of his pictures in Eng- < 
 land." 
 
 " Yes ! " 
 
 " Tell me where I'll find one so I may know if you are cor- i 
 rect."
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 117 
 
 " You are awfully impatient ; but, if you are at Beechwood, 
 look in the large photograph album in the drawing-room, and 
 you'll find his face the third picture in the book ! " 
 
 " Very well ; I'm going to England to-morrow, I'll have a look 
 ut him ! " 
 
 " To-morrow ? " Miss Anstruther gives a gasp. 
 
 " Yes ! I've got no time to lose ; only six weeks now to our 
 wedding ! " he replies, with a longing look that makes the young 
 lady blush. 
 
 " Then this is our last evening together for for two weeks ! " 
 the girl says despondingly. 
 
 " I suppose you couldn't get Lady Chartris to come on at once ? " 
 suggests Barnes, eagerly. 
 
 " I'll try ! " cries Enid, and runs off, but shortly returns pout- 
 ing, and mutters with a sigh, " The selfish thing ! She doesn't 
 want to go home till the first of June; she has painters and 
 plumbers in her house ! " 
 
 " Well, I don't blame her for fleeing from plumbers ! " laughs 
 Barnes, " so let's make the best of our evening on the terrace ! " 
 And the two wander off. 
 
 The thought of his leaving her makes his sweetheart even more 
 tender than she has ever been before. She entrances Mr. Barnes 
 with one or two little views of the inner sanctuary of her heart ; 
 and on parting says, " I am to meet you to-morrow at breakfast, 
 so I sha'n't say good-bye! " but as he takes her in his arms to 
 kiss her, she gives him a sensation ! Enid Anstruther has per- 
 mitted his caresses ever since she accepted his love ; still, up to 
 this moment, she has never kissed him ; and now with a great 
 rush of tender passion, she places two fairy lips upon his, then 
 breaks from his arms, runs upstairs and disappears, leaving Mr. 
 Barnes alone on the balcony in such a blissful state of mind that 
 for five minutes he hesitates to destroy the remembrance of that 
 kiss by desecrating his own lips with a cigar. 
 
 He has hardly done this, however, when two great passionate 
 eyes glare at him in the darkness, and a soft, southern voice, made 
 hoarse by anger, whispers in his ear, " You cruel one ! " 
 
 " I I beg your pardon, Mademoiselle Paoli," he says with a 
 start, " I scarcely understand you ! " 
 
 " But you shall ! You have stolen from me my friend. I never 
 see Enid now ! You have caused her to desert me when I am 
 alone and desolate ! " 
 
 This accusation is true. Mr. Barnes has prevented Miss An- 
 struther giving Marina during the past week more than a few 
 hasty words. He has diplomatically arranged his fiancee's days 
 so that the two girls come but little together ; for, though he has
 
 118 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 said nothing to Enid, he has feared an intimacy that might lead 
 to Marina's once more meeting Edwin Anstruther. 
 
 Before he can answer, the Corsican burst out again : " It is be- 
 cause I am not worthy to associate with your northern love 1 
 Would I do her a harm because I am unhappy ? Have I ever 
 said anything but good of you ? Or do you look upon me as one 
 accursed because I have that vow upon my soul ? " 
 
 The American considers a moment, and then says, slowly, 
 " While you have the passions of an assassin, you are not worthy 
 to associate with the woman that is to be my wife. Your brother's 
 last wish upon earth was, that his death should not ruin your life. 
 You are better fitted to love and be blessed, than to hate and be 
 accursed ! " 
 
 " God knows," she murmurs, " how I have tried to think as you 
 do. How I have watched you and your dear one, who love and 
 are so happy ; as a lost spirit has looked on a Paradise that she 
 can never enter. You are one of the blessed ; be merciful to me 
 an outcast and do not rob me of the only friend I have on 
 earth !" 
 
 " You have Danella ! " says Barnes, shortly ; for the girl's des- 
 pair and loneliness affect him, and he is anxious to end the inter- 
 view. 
 
 " Danella ! " cries the girl. " That devil whose one hope is my 
 despair. He who knows that until I have no other refuge upon 
 earth will I turn to him and his love ! I cannot understand him ! 
 I loathe him ! I dread him ! " Her voice is tremulous with 
 some unknown fear, and her beautiful form shudders with appre- 
 hension. 
 
 "Then, let me advise you," says Barnes, more tenderly, for no 
 roan could look on such despairing loveliness unmoved, "to destroy 
 Danella's hopes at once, by giving up a pursuit in which success 
 means greater misery than failure ! " 
 
 " Ah ! You would have me go back to my dear native island 
 to be the scorn of my neighbors ; to have them sing the Rimbecco 
 to me ; to hear them cry, ' A Paoli has forgotten she is a Corsican ! 
 Her brother is murdered, and his slayer lives ! No ! no ! I could 
 not endure that ! Go your way ! I will go mine ! Your north- 
 ern lily shall not be sullied by contact with a woman who has 
 murder in her heart ! " And she leaves him proudly ; but, on 
 getting from his sight, begins to pant with despair, and finally, 
 staggering to her room, finds a telegram waiting for her, that 
 reads : 
 
 " You may have hope ! 
 
 " DANELLA."
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 119 
 
 " Hope ! there is no hope for me ! Others may love and be 
 happy, but I, who hate, am accursed ! " cries the girl, and she 
 throws herself down and struggles and writhes in an agony of 
 despair, until sleep, which is kind to those who suffer, comes to 
 her and gives her peace. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 LEAVING on the early morning train necessitates an early break- 
 fast ; but Mr. Barnes finds Miss Anstruther at the table before 
 him, looking very pretty, but somewhat out of her usual good 
 temper. " See ! " she cries, " misfortune never comes singly ; you 
 are going away from me, and Marina sends me this ! " as she ex- 
 hibits a little three-cornered note. 
 
 " Well, what does it contain ? " 
 
 " Awful news ! " 
 
 " Awful news ? " Barnes' face lengthens. 
 
 " Two days ago when I asked her to be one of my bridesmaids, 
 she promised to come to dear old England and see the last of Enid 
 Anstruther ; now she sends me this, which tells me that she will 
 be unable to accept my invitation. That's awful news, isn't it ! " 
 says Enid, with a little pout. 
 
 " Oh ! that's the matter ! " answers Barnes quite relieved, think- 
 ing of the narrow escape Marina has had of meeting Edwin again, 
 and blessing last night's interview for what it had brought about 
 this morning. He is too wise, however, to express his view to 
 Enid, who would have given him a pretty battle if she had guessed 
 that to him she owed her friend's refusal ; so, noticing the troubled 
 expression on hisjiancee's face, he continues, rather nonchalantly, 
 " Don't you know some girl in England that will act in her 
 place ? " 
 
 " The idea ! Of course I know hundreds ; but I wanted her ! 
 You look as if you were rather pleased than otherwise. How 
 would you like to be disappointed after you'd been promised ? 
 How would you feel if I changed my mind in regard to being the 
 bride ? Do you know some girl in England that would act in my 
 place 1 " echoes Enid in superb scorn. 
 
 Now, there is only oneway to answer his fiancee's question, and 
 Barnes does this so much to her satisfaction that Marina is soon 
 forgotten in the pleasant misery of saying good-by. Miss Anstru-
 
 120 MR. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 
 
 ther goes with him to the railway station ; and, though she has 
 promised herself to act the Spartan maiden, at the last moment 
 forgets resolution, and favors her lover with some most pathetic 
 tears, that glisten in her bright blue eyes like dew upon morning 
 violets ; then tells him that she has a presentiment that they 
 may never meet again, which overcomes her, and after glancing 
 about the compartment being empty she throws all pride away, 
 and, giving him a hurried kiss, whispers, " My own ! If we were 
 only married that I might never leave you ! " pressing something 
 in his hand, by which he is to remember her ; and so sends him 
 away sad, but also proud and happy, looking at her gift, which is 
 a locket containing his sweetheart's face and a lock of her sunny 
 hair. 
 
 Mr. Barnes, as soon as he has seen the last of her, proceeds to 
 take an inventory of all he has left of the two brightest weeks of 
 his life, and finds it consists of a little glove he has stolen from 
 her,- a pocket-handkerchief likewise purloined; a few flowers, 
 faded and dead ; the locket, with its enclosed treasure, and Miss 
 Anstruther's heart, love and promise. And in return for this he has 
 given all he has upon earth, himself included, and is proud 
 of his bargain ; though a month ago he would have jeered the 
 person who would have told him that there was any higher hap- 
 piness than the careless, easy bachelor life that he has led up to 
 the day he met Enid Anstruther He communes thus with him- 
 self till the train runs past Nice, and he finds himself thinking, 
 " At this station she was thirsty, and I got her a glass of water. 
 That was the room where we had breakfast in the morning ! " At 
 Lyons he comes across the guard who had starved his angel, and 
 astonishes that worthy by giving him a hundred francs. So his 
 journey is one pleasant reminiscence until he passes Paris, and 
 here it changes to a hope of soon seeing her in London, arid being 
 happy ever afterwards. 
 
 Miss Anstruther returns to her hotel in a discontented, erratic 
 mood that produces some very unpleasant results for those she 
 chooses to honor with her company. 
 
 The first unfortunate she falls upon is Maud. That young lady 
 rushes to her fate in the most reckless manner ; for, no sooner 
 does she see Enid in her own room, than she flies after her and 
 whispers in her ear, " It's lucky he's gone." 
 
 " Lucky he's gone ? What do you mean ? " 
 
 "Why, Enid, don't you know she was trying to get him away 
 from you ! " 
 
 "She? Who?" 
 
 "Why, that foreign cat, Marina, of course !" returns Maud, 
 who has hated the beautiful Corsican with all a child's detestation
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 121 
 
 of those who are unjust to them, ever since she had obtained from 
 her the details of Enid's engagement, and then made her go to bed 
 for having delivered up her secret. 
 
 " Marina 1 Impossible ! " screams Miss Anstruther. 
 " Yes ! you don't know her , she's so deceitful she makes you 
 think she loves you but she loves him ! " 
 
 " What ! does she dare? " hisses Miss Anstruther, and her face 
 takes a cruel expression at the thought that Marina could be guilty 
 of an iniquity in which she has been indulging, i.e., the fearful 
 crime of loving Barnes. 
 
 " Oh ! she dares anything ; she is a plotter from the word go 
 she gets telegrams ! " 
 
 Telegrams have a wonderful mysterious conspiritorial significa- 
 tion to Maud. After a little pause, to give full weight to this 
 portentous declaration, Miss Chartris goes on, " If she didn't love 
 him, why did she make me go to bed when I told her you were 
 engaged to him 1 She was angry, of course ! Then, last night, I 
 was down-stairs trying to find a bracelet of ma's I borrowed and 
 lost, and I saw her watching you two making love, with the look 
 of a fiend her eyes were so big ! And when you had left, she 
 sneaked out to him, and they had a fearful time , and afterwards 
 I heard her sobbing as if her heart would break ; and, though I 
 didn't see him kiss her, you'd better look after Mr. Barnes, of New 
 York. Oh ! Enid ! Great Jones ! Don't kill me ! " This last 
 is a scream of abject terror, for Miss Anstruther has seized her by 
 the shoulders, and is darting at her a glance that might have come 
 from Boadicea after she had passed under the Roman rods. 
 
 All might have been well for the luckless Maud had she not 
 indulged in that last insinuation in regard to the absent Barnes ; 
 but now, there is no mercy in Enid for the girl who lias tortured 
 her. " That ! " she cries, " for trying to break my heart ! And 
 that ! for telling stories about him ! and now, having made me 
 miserable, please go away ! " an invitation that Maud is happy to 
 accept, as each of the " that's " has been a shake of such hysteri- 
 cal vigor that her teeth almost rattle in her head. 
 
 She rushes from the room, and, after drying her eyes, groans, 
 " What is the matter ? Enid used to have a nice temper George ! 
 when I'm in love, if iny younger sister tells me anything about 
 him, I suppose I'll murder her ! All the same, I shall keep myself 
 to myself after this, and I think I know a way of getting even on 
 Enid ! Wait I " for Miss Chartris, in all her misfortunes, is a, 
 philosopher. 
 
 As for Enid, she sobs a little, then tries to read a novel that 
 unfortunately contains a female Judas ; and this works on her 
 mind to such a degree that, having no better occupation, she
 
 122 ME. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 
 
 thinks she might just as well go and have it out with Marina on 
 the bridesmaid question for all this time she will never admit to 
 herself that she believes a word of what Maud has told her. 
 
 Arriving at the Corsican's apartments, she is astonished to find 
 old Tomasso, apparently greatly excited, engaged in packing his 
 mistress' baggage, and preparing for her departure. His expres- 
 sive face, that looks like an etching from the fourteenth century 
 picture, is wrinkled by smiles, as he mutters to himself, " God is 
 merciful ! I shall live to see Antonio avenged ! " for Marina has 
 just been reading to him this telegram from Gibraltar : 
 
 " I am almost certain I have found him. Meet me in Nice not 
 later than the day after to-morrow. DANELLA. " 
 
 Marina receives the English girl very coldly, but gives Tomasso 
 an errand that takes him from the room. 
 
 " You are going ? " says Enid. " and you did not tell me ! " She 
 can't help wondering, " It is because Barnes has left that Marina 
 goes also ? " 
 
 " Yes ! " replies the young lady addressed, " I have received a 
 telegram that takes me suddenly away from Monte Carlo on busi- 
 ness. I intended, however, to bid you good-bye before I wont ! " 
 
 " And it is this business that prevents your being my brides- 
 maid 1 " 
 
 " Yes ! " 
 
 " But my wedding is six weeks off your businesswill be finished 
 by that time ? " 
 
 " I hope so ! but if it is, I shall be unable still to accept your 
 offer ! " This is said coldly, but with a very sad sigh. 
 
 Enid is certain it is one of regret perhaps for Barnes ? For a 
 moment she is jealous ; but, as she looks on Marina and sees the 
 hopeless misery of this beautiful woman, to whose lonely lot she 
 has perhaps added its most cruel pang, there is only pity in her 
 voice as she replies, " I am exceedingly sorry to lose your presence 
 at my wedding, but perhaps it is better thus." 
 
 " You are glad I refused you ? " whispers Marina, giving her a 
 reproachful glance. Then, seeing a slight suspicion of haughtiness 
 in Enid's manner, for, though she strives to conceal it, the thought 
 will return to Miss Anstruther that her friend is in love with her 
 fiancee, the Corsican suddenly cries, " Why do you look at me so 
 coldly 1 Ah ! he has told you ! " 
 
 "He! Who?" returns Enid, drawing away from Marina, 
 whose hand is placed appealingly on her arm. 
 
 "Signor Barnes ! My Heaven ! you despise mf ! " 
 
 These astounding words are very bitter to the English girl ;
 
 ME. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 123 
 
 they tell her that there is a secret between her lover and Marina, 
 one in which she has no part, one that the Corsican fears that she 
 may know. She looks at the almost perfect beauty before her, and 
 is at last thoroughly jealous. Though she forces herself to be calm, 
 her voice is cold and haughty as she says, " I do not despise you. 
 We English girls do not expose our passion to our rivals. I have 
 the honor to wish you adieu, Mademoiselle Paoli ! " 
 
 She turns to leave the room, but Marina cries, " Rival f " 
 strides up to her, seizes her hand, and says, resolutely, " Not yet ! 
 Not till you have explained that word ? " 
 
 " I beg of you not to insist upon an explanation ! " 
 
 " I have as much pride as you. I insist ? " 
 
 " Very well, since you force me, I will, You, yourself, are in 
 love with my affianced husband ! " 
 
 As the English girl says this with a very angry but contemp- 
 tuous glance, the Corsican opens her great eyes in surprise, gives 
 a little laugh that is almost a sneer, and cries, " In love ? With 
 him ? " 
 
 " Don't you dare to deny it in that way ! " returns Enid very 
 savagely. "Oh? I thought you were too noble to love a man and 
 then sneer at him behind his back ! " 
 
 " Love him ? You must be crazy ! " 
 
 " No ! it is you who are crazy you treat me coldly because I 
 love him ; you look at us when we are happy as if you envied us ! " 
 
 " And so I do ! " with this Marina gives a sigh so piteous that 
 it would conquer any one but a jealous woman. 
 
 " Ah ! you confess ! You followed him last night ; you came to 
 him and begged for his love, and when you could not with your 
 beautiful false eyes and pathetic southern graces win his true 
 heart from me, you came up here and cried in agony ! " 
 
 " And he told you that lie ? " 
 
 " He 1 ? Burton? Never ! He said nothing ; he is too noble to 
 disclose a woman's humiliation. But I know it all the same ! " 
 
 " Stop ! " cries Marina in an awful voice. 
 
 But Enid Anstruther comes of a race who have stood and died 
 in their sturdy northern way against many a wild charge of south- 
 ern chivalry, she is no more to be stopped than her ancestors were 
 at Crecy or Agincourt, or later on at Ramillies or Waterloo, and 
 she goes on, " Oh ! how can you look at me so boldly after your 
 treachery to me ? when I loved you so because you'd saved my 
 brother for me ? Why don't you blush and be ashamed and fall 
 on your knees and ask my pardon ? and then I might forgive you, 
 because it is so hard to keep from loving him ! Ah ! now you are 
 softening now you repent ! " for the mention of Enid's brother 
 has made Marina tremble and her eyes fill with tears.
 
 124 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 " Stop ! the Corsican cries, " Give me justice you cold, phleg. 
 matic northern people always boast that you give justice ! Listen, 
 and do the same to me I love ! " 
 
 " A-ah ! " this is a sniff of anger from Enid. 
 
 " I love not the man you say I do, but another ! As well, 
 perhaps even better, than you ; but I love without hope ! " 
 
 " Without hope ? Oh ! how terrible ! " murmurs Enid, who, 
 within a second has changed from an avenging woman in to a sym- 
 pathizing one. " Can it be possible he does not love you in 
 return ? " 
 
 " I do not know, I dare not know ; I thought for one sweet 
 moment that perchance he might, and then I fled from him 
 because I have a vow upon my soul that would make it an infamy 
 in me to let any man love me ! " 
 
 " A vow ! oh yes, you are going to be a nun ! " 
 
 At this Marina gives a most unholy laugh and says, " No ! 
 mine is rather a vow to Hell than a vow to Heaven ! It was this 
 of which Mr. Barnes spoke to me last night ; he said, while I had 
 an assassin's passion in my heart and an assassin's oath upon my 
 conscience, I was not worthy to associate with you ! " 
 
 " Ah ! you are a Nihilist 1 " says Miss Anstruther eagerly, and 
 then having awful visions of Marina in subterranean dungeons 
 undergoing the knout, she gasps, " Give it up for my sake ! " 
 
 " No ! I'm not a fanatic ! " replies the Corsican in scorn, for 
 she thinks her vow a perfectly natural one ; such is the force of 
 habit and association. 
 
 " But you yourself acknowledge your oath is a wicked one. 
 Turn from it and be happy, dear one ! " and a pair of soft arms 
 go round Marina. 
 
 But she shakes them of and cries, " No ! no ! for the love of 
 Heaven don't you tempt me ! I have so longed to put it from me 
 and be like other women ! But sometimes I think I am sworn to 
 a holy mission ; and then I pant to meet him that I may do my 
 duty ! " This last is uttered as if she were inspired, but not from 
 God. 
 
 After a pause Enid says, " And Mr. Barnes caused you to 
 write me this note ? " 
 
 " Yes ! " 
 
 " You poor darling ! " Here Miss Anstruther's arms again sur- 
 rounded the Corsican girl, and this time they conquer her and stay 
 about her. " How cruel he was to you ! He did not think you 
 should be the companion of his angel who loves you. But consent 
 to be my bridesmaid and I'll show him I am not all angel ! for 
 I'll fight for you ! Promise clear one ! " 
 
 But Marina says determinedly, " Never ! I cannot put away
 
 MR. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 125 
 
 my vow ! Your lover is right ; you are too good for me ; but 
 though I shall not see you a bride I shall always love you 
 because of of your kindness to me when no friends were near. 
 But I am going away and you may never see me again and !." 
 
 Here the two girls cry over each other. 
 
 They are interrupted in this work by Miss Chartris, who calls 
 through the door, " He's come back again, Enid ! " 
 
 " He ? Who ? " cries Miss Anssruther springing up. Then she 
 says, " I will see you before you go, dear one ! " gives Marina 
 another kiss, and darts out with a beating heart, thinking that for 
 some unknown reasons Mr Barnes has returned to her. 
 
 She pursues Maud Chartris to the door of her mother's parlor ; 
 where that young lady, turns to Enid, whispers, " He's in there 
 alone waiting to clasp you in his arms ! " and gives a playful 
 little laugh. 
 
 Miss Anstruther opens the door ; and, the blinds being drawn 
 on account of the hot sun, sees sitting in the shadow with his 
 back to her, a man she imagines to be Mr. Barnes. 
 
 She darts upon him softly, puts her arms about his neck, whis- 
 pers in his ear, " Burton, darling, you couldn't leave me, could 
 you ! " gives him a most delicious kiss, and then starts back with 
 a scream of dismay ; for a great bearded creature who has return- 
 ed her kiss very cordially, says with a laugh, " So ' Burton dar- 
 ling, ' has gone away, has he ! " 
 
 Here Enid gives another cry, " Edwin ! My brother ! " and flies 
 at him, not so bashfully this time, with many affectionate kisses, 
 though they are scarcely so tender as the one intended for " Bur- 
 ton, darling." 
 
 Edwin Gerard Anstrather is a worthy type of the manhood 
 that has supported the British flag against all kinds of odds, in all 
 kinds of climates, in all sorts of perils, for so many generations 
 by land and by sea ; and who have generally given their country 
 little cause to regret what has come to her honor or her safety at 
 their hands. 
 
 He is a brave, educated young Englishman, and though Enid 
 looks upon him as almost a paragon among men, she is nearer 
 right than the generality of sisters are in regard to their brothers' 
 virtues. 
 
 He is not quite so fair as Miss Anstruther ; perhaps because he 
 has passed so much of his life exposed to wind and sun. There is 
 a frank look in his eyes and a noble bearing in his figure that 
 makes one take kindly to him at once. His smile, curiously 
 enough in so young a man, is not as merry as it should be. 
 
 Enid notices this ; and, their first greeting being over, says, 
 " Edwin, is anything the matter with you ] When you were in
 
 12G MB. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 Nice I did not speak of it because our half hour was so short ; 
 but now, what has become of your laugh 1 " 
 
 " My laugh ! didn't you hear it when you mistook me for ' Bur- 
 ton, darling 1 " 
 
 " Yes but your old laugh the one that used to tell me you 
 were happy ? " 
 
 " Oh ! I'm afraid I left that behind in Egypt." 
 " In Egypt ? " 
 
 " Yes ! A man can't see suffering, misery, war and death all 
 about him, and forever be a boy, and have a boy's freedom from 
 the cares and sorrows of life ! However, I am pretty much my 
 old self again now ! And you ! " !.ere he draws her to the light 
 and looks at her in a critical "way, " How does being in love 
 agree with you, Enid ? " 
 
 " Pretty well, thank you," says the young lady very demurely 
 but giving a big blush. 
 
 " Yes ! I see it brings a nice color to your cheeks ! " 
 At this Miss Anstruther checks him with, " How and why did 
 you come here?" 
 
 " First, to see you and ' Burton, darling.' Second, because I 
 fortunately got leave and thought it would be pleasanter to return 
 with you both to England by rail, than knocking about for two 
 weeks more on shipboard." 
 
 Here sudden joy comes over Enid and she cries, " Oh, how 
 magnificent ! he is but one day ahead of us ! We will leave 
 to-morrow and I shall see him in forty-eight hours." 
 
 " All right, and the sooner the better ! " says the sailor ; " I 
 suppose ' Burton, darling,' will not be sorry neither What 
 a wonderfully tender kiss that first one you gave me was, 
 Enid." 
 
 " Tease me as much as you like about ' Burton, darling,' only 
 take me to him," says Miss Anstruther. " But if we leave 
 to-morrow I must see that my maid packs, and tell Lady Chartris. 
 You'll excuse me for a little while, Edwin you can run over to 
 the Casino and kill time for an hour, you dearest of brothers." 
 With that she runs off on her errand, thinking to herself, " Only 
 two days, and I shall be with him once more," and trembles with 
 expectant happiness. 
 
 Her brother looks after her and mutters, " Love has made her 
 a new girl," and then, with a kind of weary sigh, " and me a new 
 man." And. after a few moments' rather glum consultation with 
 himself, suddenly cries, " What's the use ! I might as well knock 
 what enjoyment I can out of life ! " lights a cigar and wanders 
 out of the hotel into the Casino gardens, where he lounges about 
 in a listless, heedless sort of way ; not even giving much attention
 
 Mil. BAK.NES OF NEW YORK. 127 
 
 to several pretty girls that pass by him in the light, graceful 
 summer toilets appropriate to Monaco in May. 
 
 lie gets to the terrace, sniffs the sea breeze, sits down and goes 
 to day-dreaming again. Soon his eyes, that have been wandering 
 absently about, fix themselves on a young lady who is standing at 
 some distance from him, looking out over the Mediterranean, her 
 beautiful form drooping like a lily crushed by the storm. The 
 helpless, hopeless misery in her attitude attracts his notice 
 and he mutters to himself, " Poor devil ! Jove ! she looks 
 more down in the mouth than I do ! " The next instant he starts, 
 and stares at her, his whole soul in his eyes. His strong limbs 
 tremble for a moment, but his strong will forces them to do their 
 office; he rises, and going near to her, whispers in a voice tremul- 
 ous with hope and love, "Marina ! At last I n 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 LOVE'S BATTLE. 
 
 THERE are some joys so glorious they can hardly be imagined. 
 
 As the girl turns her face toward this man even the world 
 seems to change to her and become another and a brighter one. 
 The sea that was sombre sparkles in the sunrays, the sky that was 
 leaden is as blue and clear as painters give to that of Italy ; and 
 the modern garden with its light, frivolous loungers and gaudily 
 decked women, its earthly orchestra, playing a flash French 
 melody, is as Eden with celestial choirs singing a pean of joy. 
 
 This feeling comes into her face and makes it very beautiful. 
 
 Anstruther gazes at her with a look of amazed admiration, and 
 cries, "You are happy to see me ! " 
 
 " Happy? Gerard ! " The first is a cry of astonished ecstacy ; 
 the last ends in a sigh of abject misery. The light fades from her 
 face, the world becomes a world of gloom once more, for Marina 
 feels that the presence of this man (who could, but whom she has 
 decreed shall not, make her happy) will but add to the agony of 
 her struggle and her despair. 
 
 She falters, trembles and almost falls : giving a golden oppor- 
 tunity for coming on good terms with her at once of which 
 Barnes would have taken advantage, and bestowed upon her waist 
 a gentle pressure that would have done his battle no harm but 
 Edwin, who has been at sea a great portion of his time, and has
 
 1-6 MK. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 that immense respect that all good men have for women, until 
 they know them well enough to discover that Eve is hidden in 
 most of them, lets his chance go by, and merely says, " Forgive 
 me ; I have startled you ! " 
 
 For a moment she does not reply to this, and he stands inactive, 
 and lets this volcanic creature cover her raging fire with a little 
 glacial ice; until she can utter slowly but cooly, " You surprised 
 me at first ! Alexandria and Monte Carlo are so far apart. I 
 had forgotten you English are such travelers. You came to see 
 your sister, I presume, Monsieur An-stru-ther ! " She struggles 
 a little with the last word, as if she had pronounced it seldom. 
 
 " You make bad work of my family name," he_says. " Won't 
 you come back to old times and the old name ? " 
 
 " The old name 1 " 
 
 "Yes; the one you used to call me by when you came each 
 morning to the Egyptian hospital to see I was not dead ! The 
 one you uttered when you first saw me here ! Gerard ! " 
 
 Mr. Anstruther has steadied himself and is now doing good 
 work. He has made up his mind to fight a great square, honest 
 battle for the happiness of his life ; and, though it will not have 
 the delicate touches and quaint skill of fence with which Mr. 
 Barnes would have embellished it, still it is a kind of attack that 
 always wins where a woman loves ; and, in this case, it would be 
 a dashing victory in one round, but for the girl having grown to 
 regard her oath of vengeance on her brother's slayer as a sort of 
 holy mission for which she must, like the palmer of old, give up 
 home and friends, and even love and happiness. 
 
 He gains a little advantage from his speech. The remembrance 
 of Egypt melts some of the artificial ice the girl has put about 
 her. She answers, " Yes Gerard ! I remember ! " holds out a 
 tiny hand which he clasps, and when she would withdraw it, has 
 sense enough to clasp it tighter. His touch overcomes her ; her 
 head droops. 
 
 " Now I can call you Marina, as in those happy days in 
 Alexandria ! " he whispers. 
 
 Here a sudden resolution comes to the Corsican ; she will again 
 flee from this man who will make her forget her oath. She raises 
 her head, though there are tears in her eyes, looks him fairly in 
 the face and manages to say ! " You must let me go. I have the 
 afternoon train to take ; I am leaving Monte Carlo ! " 
 
 " What ? When I have just found you, after seeking for you a 
 year ! " 
 
 " I must ! " 
 
 "Very well ! " he replies sadly, relinquishing her hand, "I am 
 afraid my coming has driven you away ! "
 
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 129 
 
 " Oh ! Don't say that ! Good-bye ! " 
 
 She turns and gets a little way from him. He has not answered 
 her adieu he thinks her cruel to him ; she falters and turns to 
 have one more look at the being she adores, but flies from. 
 This look is her undoing. Edwin, gazing after her as one does 
 upon his last dying hope, sees, within her eyes, something that 
 makes hope live. The next instant he is at her side again. 
 
 " Won't you say good-bye to me ? " she falters. 
 
 " No ! " 
 
 " No ? " 
 
 " No ! For I am going with you ! " This is a tender touch 
 worthy of Barnes. 
 
 With these words come to Marina visions of Danella plotting 
 with her the murder and this man discovering it ; this man who 
 has been educated to despise an assassin : this man whose good 
 opinion is more to her than all the world's. 
 
 " No ! No ! " she cries, " you must leave me ! " 
 
 " Not till you have heard me ! " 
 
 " As you are a gentleman, you must go ! " 
 
 " As I am a man fighting for my happiness, not till you have 
 answered my question ! " 
 
 "As you will! What is it-?" she says, forcing herself to be 
 calm ; then, looks at the gloom qf the evening that is beginning to 
 make the garden dark, and murmurs, "I can give you ten 
 minutes ! " 
 
 " Ten seconds will be enough for me ! I once hoped, prayed, 
 thought that you. loved me ! Tell me, was I mistaken ? " 
 
 She does not answer this ; but, in her face, which is turned 
 towards the earth, joy is conquering grief. Her beautiful features 
 are flushed ; her eyes are beginning to beam with a strange light ; 
 the volcano of her passions is on the eve of an eruption. 
 
 " Do you love me 1 " he goes on in rapid intensity. " Look me 
 in the face and tell me, do you love me ? Though it breaks my 
 heart if y >u say, No ; if you even shake your head. I will believe 
 you ! If you had not fled from me in Egypt I would have asked 
 you then. Now, after I have sought for you so long, look me in 
 the face, sweetheart, and tell me, do you love me 1 " 
 
 The eruption takes place ! The repressed passion of a year at 
 last comes from her lips, " Do I love you, Gerard ? Do I love 
 you ? I love you better than my soul ! " 
 
 She can say no more, for she is in the arms that she has nursed 
 to strength, sobbing as if her heart would break. 
 
 Marina is now a miracle of tenderness. Being conquered by 
 love, she gives way to it with that charming abandon and those 
 graceful arts of endearment peculiar to the women of the South. 
 CO)
 
 130 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 And so the minutes run along, until Anstruther murmurs in the 
 delicate ear nestled against his cheek, for the hundredth time, 
 " Do you love me?" 
 
 She whispers back, " You cannot doubt that now ! " 
 
 "Then, sweetheart, when will you marry me?" At this she 
 starts and struggles from his arms, and cries, in the voice of des- 
 pair, " Never ! " 
 
 " Never ! " he echoes, with a pale face, " Never ? and you love 
 me ? " 
 
 " I adore you better than my life, but I will never see your face 
 on earth again ! " and with these astounding words she darts from 
 him into the darkness. 
 
 For a second, he is stunned, but the next instant follows and 
 tries to find her, but in the gloom of the evening, immediate pur- 
 suit is useless. He stands considering for a moment, then turns 
 to a lamp and consults his watch. It is past the time of the out- 
 going train ; until another departs she must remain in Monte 
 Carlo. If she is at a villa, she may baffle him ; if she is at a hotel, 
 he will find her. He runs to the Casino and despatches one of 
 the servants of the house, with Marina's name, to discover if she 
 is registered at any of the hotels. While the man is gone, he 
 stands thinking if this is not a dream, or the ravings of a dis- 
 ordered brain that has brooded too much over the girl who has 
 filled his mind ever since she fled from him in Egypt. But no, 
 the soft impress of her lips still lingers upon his ; the perfume 
 from her dress is still about him. Here another fear darts through 
 his mind, " What if she should leave Monte Carlo by carriage ! " 
 He must send word to all the public stables to notify him if they 
 receive an order from Mademoiselle Paoli. He is just about to 
 make such an arrangement, when the servant brings him word 
 that the young lady is registered at the Grand Hotel. 
 
 He rushes there and finds that Mademoiselle Paoli has ordered 
 a carriage to be ready to take her to Nice that night ; a little irore 
 delay and he would have missed her. 
 
 He knows that his card will be refused, and walks up to her 
 apartments himself. He knocks at Marina's parlor door and there 
 is no answer ; then, listening, hears a subdued sound that makes 
 him sigh. He raps ag da several times unanswered ; and then 
 calls through the panel, " Before you go, I must see you ! " 
 
 After a moment a reply comes in Marina's voice, " You may 
 pursue me forever, but you shall not look upon me again ! " 
 
 " You will not open the door ? " 
 
 " Never!" 
 
 " Very well, I shall wait in the hall until you come out, and 
 speak to you then ; and, if you will not listen to me there, I shall
 
 MR. BARXES. OF NEW YORK. 13 
 
 follow your carriage to Nice, and again demand an interview, 
 and so on, till you or I die ! " 
 
 " Then I shall not leave my apartments till morning ! " 
 " In that case, I shall remain here all night to see that you do 
 not escape me ! " 
 
 Here a piteous voice comes to him, " Gerard, why do you add 
 to my misery ! Go away ! Leave me, I beg of you, as you are 
 a gentleman ! " 
 
 " As I am a man, 1 stay here ! " He gets no further answer, 
 and stands waiting ; for Edwin Anstruther, now that he knows 
 1 1 is sweetheart loves him, is like a lion that has tasted blood and 
 longs for more. It is fearfully tedious, in the dreary hall, when 
 there is but a little door that he could easily break down with his 
 foot between him and the being for whose presence he hungers. 
 But he is accustomed to taking his watch at night on shipboard, 
 and he paces the corridor as he would his quarter-deck. And so 
 an hour passe.s, when she, who is panting behind that door, like a 
 hunted creature in its liar, watching for the hound to tire in his 
 vigil and leave her a pathway to escape, speaks to him again. 
 
 " You are still there ! Gerard, have mercy, and let me go ! " 
 
 " Not till I see you ! " 
 
 " I cannot bear that you should make yourself unhappy for me 
 in this cruel way Go, for God's sake ! " 
 
 " For yours, I will stay ! " 
 
 His persistency tortures, nay, almost angers her. She will see 
 him ; she will crush any feeling of hope in this man who insists 
 on pursuing her. In this resolution, Marina hurriedly throws 
 over her dishabille (for she has been preparing to dress for her 
 journey) a light morning robe, opens her parlor door, and cries, 
 "Enter ! Ask me what you will and then in mercy to me go!" 
 
 " Then, in mercy to me, answer my questions ! " and before her 
 is. a man whose passion, being now aroused, has all the fervor of 
 the southern, but still retains the steadfast resolution of his 
 northern, race. A man who may be made to despise her and so 
 give her up, but who, as long as he thinks she loves him, can no 
 more be shaken off by her than a deer can throw off the lion who 
 has struck it down. 
 
 In fact Anstruther looks to her now as stern and terrible as 
 that king of beasts, as he gives her a glance that makes her cower ; 
 for he is fearfully angry as well as fearfully in love with this 
 beautiful creature who tortures him. She returns him a little 
 broken-hearted smile, and says, tremulously, " Ask them ! " 
 
 " Very well ! " he replies. " You tell me that you love me, and 
 yet you say you will never marry me ! What reason have you to 
 dare to tell me that 1 "
 
 132 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 " What right have you to dare to ask me that ? " 
 " The right you gave me when you said you loved me ! Dare 
 to tell me those kisses were a shame on your womanhood and a 
 fraud upon my manhood deny that you are a true woman, and I 
 ask no more ! " 
 
 This is a terrible speeeh for Marina ; she knows now she must 
 either tell him why she refuses to give herself where she has given 
 her heart, or let him think her a flirt, a coquette, or even worse, 
 and so despise her and let her go. His contempt is not to be 
 borne for an instant. She cries proudly, " Gerard, I love you ! 
 My kisses were as true as ever woman gave to man, but I 1 can- 
 not marry you ! " 
 
 " Cannot marry me 1 Are you the wife of another ? " 
 " No ! " 
 
 " Thank God ! " 
 
 "' And 1 will never marry any one but you ! That I swear ! if 
 that will make you happy." 
 
 " Happy ? when, after to-night, I am never to see your face 
 again ! Happy ? when you love me and will not be mine ! " And 
 Edwin seizes this woman in his arms, whose beauty and whose 
 love madden him ; for, if Marina, had hoped to bind him to her 
 forever, she could not have looked more enchanting than she does 
 now, as her bare white arms flash out of the light dress that drapes 
 the exquisite undulations of her graceful form, and close in pitying 
 tenderness around the neck of this man she had sworn to herself 
 she would never see again. He looks closely at her a moment, 
 and then shudders, " There is despair in your face ! " for her eyes 
 are filled with that same hopeless agony that makes Guide's head 
 of Beatrice Cenci the saddest painting upon earth. 
 
 " Despair ! " she cries, " despair for you ! Despair for me ! 
 Adorato mio, I love you but 1 leave you ! " 
 
 " Let me understand you," he says, forcing himself to be calmer; 
 " were it not for an obstacle, you would marry me 1 " 
 
 " With all my soul ! Oh, I should so like to be happy ! " 
 " Then you shall be ! " 
 " I cannot ! I dare not ! " 
 
 " You shall be ! Tell me what stands between you and me, and 
 I will destroy it ! " 
 
 " Never ! You would condemn ! " 
 
 At this he seizes her, looks her in the eyes, then laughs, and 
 says, " Condemn \ You couldn't do anything very wrong if you 
 tried. Dear one, you were an angel in Alexandria, you could not 
 be anything else in France ! " 
 
 His confidence makes him dearer than ever to her ; she will 
 never tell him what may cost her his respect.
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 133 
 
 " Now," he says, " I will know what is destroying our happi- 
 ness ! " 
 
 " Never ! It is a matter of my conscience. I do not tell it to 
 the holy father w,ho confesses me." 
 
 " Would he give you absolution if you did ?" This is a terrible 
 question ; she droops her head. 
 
 " Ah ! you are ashamed of it ? " 
 
 " No ! " she cries, " I am proud of it ! Oh ! how cruel you are ! " 
 
 " Cruel ! To you ? " and he has her in his arms again. " Oh ! 
 my love. Remember that you had no right to resurrect, by your 
 tender nursing, my life in Egypt, to make it unhappy forever 
 afterwards ! " 
 
 This view of the matter affects her more than anything he has 
 said; she begins to falter and hesitate and whispers, "I I did 
 not know you loved me so much ; that I would make you so 
 unhappy ! I I will consider ! " 
 
 "Then it is a matter of your choice? You could be my wife if 
 you would?" 
 
 " Y-e-s ! " 
 
 " Then you shall be ! I swear it ! You love me ! I have no fear ! " 
 
 She looks at him hope is in his face ; she knows he is con- 
 quering her, breaks from him, springs to the door of her bedroom, 
 and there cries, " Leave me? I can tell you no more ! Leave me 
 alone and let me fight the battle out between my duty and my 
 love ! " 
 
 " But my answer ! " says Anstruther, following her. 
 
 " To-morrow ! Gerard ! Don't come near me ! " arid she struggles 
 from him and pants, "Don't dare to kiss me you fight your 
 battles too strongly with them, I love you so ! Keep away give 
 my vow one chance ! " 
 
 " Your vow ? What vow ? " 
 
 " That you shall never know ! " 
 
 " That I will know, unless to-morrow you will promise to be my 
 wife. Do you suppose I will have my life ruined and not have 
 the reason of it ! " 
 
 " Have I not told you, you shall have my answer to-morrow ! " 
 
 " From your own lips?" 
 
 No by letter ! " 
 
 " From your own lips Promise ! " 
 
 " And if not ? ' 
 
 " I wait in that hall so that you do not fly from me ! " 
 
 "All night?" 
 
 " Yes ! and all day too to win you ! " 
 
 " Oh ! Gerard ! You foolish one ! But I promise to tell my 
 answer to your face as I speak now ! "
 
 134 MR. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 
 
 " To-morrow ! " 
 
 "Yes! Go!" 
 
 He makes no effort to caress her, but simply says, " To-mor 
 row," and is going away looking very solemn and somewhat 
 down-hearted. She cannot bear to see him unhappy ; she knows 
 that she can never refuse him now, though she will not answer 
 him to-night. 
 
 She calls him back to her and says, " When you get down stairs 
 tell Tomasso, my servant, he may send the carriage away. I will 
 not leave Monaco tor a week." 
 
 "For a week?" cries Anstruther, with a ring of joy in his 
 voice. 
 
 " Yes ! you're not going away are you ? " 
 
 " I no I what do you mean ? Is this your answer 1 " 
 
 " No ! I must bury my vow before that ! No answer till 
 to-morrow ; but good of my life take this one kiss and think 
 perhaps God will let me make you happy." She holds up her lips 
 to his ; but, when he would keep her longer, breaks from him and 
 runs into her room : then walks the floor wringing her hands like 
 one possessed. 
 
 Some time afterwards old Tomasso brings her a telegram, and 
 she reads, 
 
 "I have found the man ! He is near us, where we can reach 
 him ! Be happy ! " DANELLA." 
 
 At this, she utters a cry of baffled rage. Vengeance is at her 
 hand ; but she cannot take it, without making the man she loves 
 despair, for Gerard's wife must have no vow of the Vendetta on 
 her soul. Then she staggers to her brother's picture and begs, 
 " Let me be happy ! It was your wish, beloved one, that I should 
 not remember ! " and here suddenly cries, '' Antonio, forgive me! 
 I, your sister, have betrayed you ! Your face makes me ashamed !" 
 turns his picture to the wall, and sinks down to pray to God to 
 take the Corsican out of her heart, and make her worthy to be 
 Gerard's wife ! 
 
 Anstruther, whose battle this girl is fighting against her tradi- 
 tions, the faith of her wild race and the vow that she had made 
 her household god, comes down from the interview with a serious 
 but happy face ; and, a moment after, mutters to himself. 
 " George ! how I must love her ; I've forgotten my dinner ! " 
 Then looking at his watch finds it is just time for supper, to 
 which he goes humming a merry tune. " To the victors belong 
 the spoils."
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 A NEW CRIME. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN THAT YOU ABE A CORSICAN ! 
 
 THAT night Marina buries and puts from her, for love of this 
 man, the vow she had made over her brother's body. 
 
 It is a funeral, with many tears and many struggles ; for she 
 is giving up what the faith of her fathers and the teachings of her 
 race have made it her holy duty to perform. 
 
 But it is all or nothing, she knows that ; and as she takes her 
 brother's picture, and, covering it reverently, places it where it 
 cannot remind her of the past, she gives a kiss and a tear, but 
 says to it, ''Now if your murderer stood before me, helpless and 
 in my power, he is safe ! The wife of Gerard must be no criminal ; 
 even if she is a Corsican, whose neighbours cry out, ' Shame upon 
 you ! Your brother cannot rest within his grave his sister 
 instead of avenging him, marries one of the nation from whom his 
 murderer came ! ' " 
 
 So the night came ; and, at the end, in tears and prayer she has 
 cast out the thing that has been a blight upon her life, and thinks, 
 " I am Gerard's now, and must be holy for his sake." 
 
 And here another joy comes over her ; she is a Catholic ; she 
 can now confess and receive the consolations of her religion ; for 
 since the day she has made her oath of vengeance she has not 
 dared to face her church ; with that in her heart she knows it 
 would condemn and anathematize, even though all the traditions 
 of her island said murder was just. 
 
 She has several times seen pass her at the hotel a priest, going 
 on an errand of mercy to a sick boy brought here, when too late, 
 that the balmy air of the Riviera may keep consumption from 
 claiming his life. 
 
 This holy man, she remembers, is one of the kind to whom she 
 could lay bare her heart ; one in whose face there are the traces 
 of a struggle and a victory over sin within himself ; one who 
 causes us to know that a true Christian makes the truest man.
 
 136 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 It is by this time early morning ; she sends to the office for his 
 address, and word is brought her that Father Enrique is now in 
 the house, having come to administer the last rights of the Church 
 to the dying boy. She waits in the corridor ; and, as he returns 
 from his mission, says to him, " Father, you have just been giv- 
 ing consolation to one who is to die, teach me how to live ! " 
 Then, drawing him to her room, she tells him the story of her life. 
 The good priest looks alt this beautiful sinner in some astonish- 
 ment ; for, though he has had some curious confessions from peni- 
 tent ladies at Monte Carlo, still he has had none like this ; but 
 fortunately for her, being a man of common sense, after showing 
 to her the enormity of her crime, and that all the customs or hab- 
 its or passions of a country or a race could not make wrong right, 
 nor nullify the law of God, whose law is the law of all who live 
 upon this earth, nay more, of any who may exist within the uni- 
 verse, he begins to comfort and console her and lift her up and 
 show her that Heaven has kindly given her this great love for 
 Gerard, in order to turn her from her sin before she has consum- 
 mated it, and the best and safest course for her is to marry as 
 soon as possible and leave behind her the awful passions of her 
 other life. 
 
 "And my penance?" she asks. " My expiation?" 
 
 " Penance \ Repent ! Expiation ? Be a good wife to this 
 heretic you love ; and if you can't make him a good Catholic, 
 make him a good man ! " 
 
 This perhaps is not very orthodox, but very human. He leaves 
 her consoled and penitent ; and, the contending passions in her 
 soul being calmed, sleep comes to her and gives her rest. 
 
 Mr. Anstruther having no vendetta on his mind, has a very 
 comfortable night's slumber without confession, or even prayer for 
 that matter ; but is disturbed in the early morning and thinks 
 he hears a knocking ; he grunts out some unintelligible exclama- 
 tion and rolls over for another snooze. From this, however, he 
 is awakened by a very sharp, vigorous and imperative attack upon 
 his door. He springs out of bed and cries, " What is up 1 What's 
 the matter ? " 
 
 Enid's excited voice answers him from without, " Up ! You're 
 not up ! That's the matter ! We've only twenty minutes to catch 
 the train. I had you called an hour ago, Edwin ; dress quickly ! " 
 
 At this he gives a prolonged whistle and mutters, " Cursed 
 awkward ; I forgot ; " then yells through the panel, " I won't be 
 a minute, Enid ! " and thinks of the rage of his fair sister when 
 she discovers that he will not take her to England that day. 
 
 His mind is not made more easy by such exclamations as 
 " Hurry ! Hurry ! We'll miss the train ! You're not going to
 
 ME. BARNES OF NEW YOttK. 137 
 
 him, / am ! Be quick for my sake ! " which come to him through 
 the door as he dresses. 
 
 Thus adjured, he makes a hasty toilet, throws open his portal, 
 and Miss Anstruther confronts him in a very pretty traveling 
 dress, a look of expectant hope on her face, and an eager anxiety 
 in her movements. 
 
 "Come!" she cries, "only ten minutes now! No time to bid 
 Lady Chartris good-bye ! " 
 
 " But my breakfast ? " he suggests. 
 
 " Breakfast? Breakfast in Nice ! Come ! " She turns to two 
 porters behind her and says, " Bring down his luggage," and then 
 in a little scream of despair utters, " Why, you've not packed ! " 
 
 " No. Didn't I send word I was not going to-day ? " 
 
 " Not going to-day ? " Description would fail to give an idea 
 of the surprised disappointment of the girl. Enid sinks down and 
 mutters, " I have telegraphed him. He will be at Dover to meet 
 me ! " then springs up and cries, " What does luggage matter to 
 a sailor. Come ! " 
 
 ' No ! I ! ah ! you see ! " 
 
 " I see nothing but that we have nine minutes to catch a train 
 upon which my happiness depends Edwin ! as you love me, 
 come ! " 
 
 " No ! it's impossible," remarks Anstruther with rather a hang- 
 dog air ; for he sees, with concern, there are tears of disappoint 
 ment in his sister's beautiful eyes. " Enid, I would go with you 
 if 1 could but, ah I didn't like to tell you before the doctor^ 
 think it's best for me not to exert myself too much. You knov- 
 my wound in Egypt ! " 
 
 " Your wound ! You frighten me ! " 
 
 "Ah! Yes You see I'm not up to travel." With this In 
 gives a little pant or two, and to work his case up, sinks appai 
 ently exhausted into a chair. 
 
 " Edwin, you are fainting ! " she screams, giving him a glance 
 of horror that makes him ashamed of himself ; but he has to keep 
 to his r6le, for he feels he cannot tell Enid the truth just yet ; 
 and to leave Marina, until he receives her answer, is of course out 
 of the question. " You are not well enough to travel." 
 
 " Yes ! " he replies. " It is because I was wounded in Egypt I 
 do not leave Monaco to-day." And with this wretched prevari- 
 cation he tries to soothe his conscience ; but here Enid gives it 
 another twist. 
 
 She whispers, " You are very ill ! Oh ! that awful wound .' 
 Will it never heal ? Go to bed, darling ; I will bring up your 
 breakfast and stay here and nurse you ! " 
 
 "But 'Burton, darling?'"
 
 138 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 " Burton must wait ; you are sick ; he is well." 
 
 " What a dear little angel you are, Enid ! " says her brother, 
 taking her in his arms and kissing her, as she deserves, " I'm not 
 so ill, but I'll be round all right to-morrow ; and, when I do take 
 you to England, you shall have the handsomest trousseau you ever 
 dreamt of. Now don't grieve me by being too much disappointed 
 at not seeing Barnes for a day or two ; and, above all, don't 
 make me miserable by being anxious about me ! " 
 
 But this show of affection increases her concern. She whispers, 
 ' You are trying to make me forget you are very ill, How for- 
 fcunate I am here with you. For how many kisses will you go to 
 bed ? " 
 
 " Not for ten thousand ! " 
 
 " You won't go to bed ? " 
 
 " Not till midnight ! " 
 
 " Then I will see that you do now. Yes, and that you have 
 proper advice and attendance until we make you strong again !" 
 and Enid darts from the room, for she has just remembered there 
 is a celebrated English surgeon in the hotel, and has run off to 
 find him and send him to her dear invalid. Though the physician 
 does not come, someone with greater power to soothe him does. 
 In her pursuit of the doctor Enid runs across Marina, who has 
 come down to eat a little breakfast, for nature has resumed its 
 sway and she has remembered that she had no dinner the night 
 before. " What has happened to make you so happy ! " cries 
 Enid rapidly, and stares in astonishment, for the Corsican is as 
 radiant as the sun, " You haven't left yet, dear ; I feared I had 
 missed you ! " 
 
 " No, I shall remain a few days. I hope to see a great deal of 
 you, now Mr. Barnes has gone." 
 
 " So you shall when my brother gets well." 
 
 " He is ill ? " 
 
 " Very ! He almost fainted in my arms a minute ago. I must 
 tind the doctor ! " and Enid hurries off, not noticing that Marina 
 lias staggered and almost fainted too. 
 
 Mr. Anstruther has thrown off the hasty toilet made for his 
 sister, and is now, in dishabille, preparing an elaborate get up 
 with which he hopes to dazzle his Corsican sweetheart, when there 
 comes a faint knock. He cries, " Don't come in ! That you, 
 Enid?" 
 
 " No ! It is I ! " says a trembling voice. 
 
 " Marina ? " There is a noise of scattered bedroom articles as he 
 -prings to the door. 
 
 "Yes come to nurse you, as I did before. You are ill, Ger 
 .iv. 1 !"
 
 ME. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 139 
 
 " Never better in my life ! " 
 
 " Impossible ! Your sister said you fainted ! She said she 
 would nurse you ; but, Gerard, I claim that right ! " 
 
 " And you shall have it when I am sick ! " he cries with a 
 merry voice, for her last words make him very happy Then he 
 hurriedly explains the deception he has practiced upon Enid, and 
 opening the door a little, says, " Dear one, if you don't believe me 
 put in your hand and feel my pulse." 
 
 Here there is extended into the room a little palm, with 
 groping fingers, which is sei/ed upon ; and, instead of a throbbing 
 pulse, feels a long moustache and a pair of lips. 
 
 Ajnoment of bliss, and Marina cries, " Gerard, let me go ! If 
 your sister saw me thus, what would she think ? " 
 
 " If she sees you thus, show her this ! And keep it, darling, 
 till I can replace it with a better ! " and, finally, withdrawing 
 her hand, Marina finds Gerard's seal ring slipped upon her 
 finger. 
 
 u Now, when will you meet me?" 
 
 "Whenever you like," whispers the girl, looking at the ring, 
 and feeling it makes her his. 
 
 " Very well ! Run away now, dear one, and in a few minutes 
 I will call upon you in your parlor," says Mr. Anstruther, in a 
 very confident and commanding voice to this captive of his bow 
 and spear. 
 
 And he does so ; and finds the girl waiting for him, more 
 beautiful and more bashful than the evening before. 
 
 Happiness has perfected her charms, but made her timid, com- 
 pared to last night, when she thought never to see him again and 
 had the boldness of despair. 
 
 She is in a dead white dress, a little out of the fashion, per- 
 haps, as it has not done duty for over a year ; but she feels any- 
 thing is better for her this happy morning than the black she has 
 worn, that reminds her of the vow she has cast out from her. 
 
 Anstruther enters the room and pounces instantly upon his 
 captive's hand, for he is in no mood to dally with his will-o'-the- 
 wisp sweetheart who has made him suffer so long, and says, 
 " You have not taken off my ring ? " 
 
 " No ! " whispers his slave, " I did not care to. I I was 
 afraid you might not like it." 
 
 " Quite right ! And now you recollect that I told you that 
 to-day you must promise to make me happy, or tell me the vow 
 that prevented you." 
 
 " Yes ! but there is no necessity of my telling you the vow, 
 Gerard it is gone. I destroyed it last night, for love of you." 
 
 " You, darling ! And you, will you marry me 1 "
 
 140 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 ' That is for you to say ; light of my existence, my life is in 
 .our hands." 
 
 After half an hour of rapture, the two wander off from the 
 lotel to pass the day together ; for Edwin knows his sister is in 
 mrsuit of him with her doctor, and will, if she finds him, force 
 him to an explanation, or to the bed of an invalid. 
 
 Twice during the day he surprises Marina. The first time, he 
 vys suddenly, " Why did you never answer any of my letters 
 hat followed you from Egypt?" 
 
 "I'never got them where did you direct your correspond- 
 ice ?" 
 
 " Number 147 Boulevard Montmartre, Paris ! " 
 
 Marina says nothing, but does a few moments' meditation upon 
 iiis curious fact, as the address he gave her was the correct one. 
 
 Somewhat later in the day, he surprises her again. 
 
 She has just told him that Count Danella is her guardian. 
 
 " Musso Danella ? " he asks. 
 
 " Yes ! " 
 
 " That is magnificent. I met him two weeks ago in Gibraltar ; 
 .ve became great chums. He is one of the most entertaining 
 men I ever knew. I'll write to him of our engagement to- 
 morrow." 
 
 " That will be unnecessary ; he will be here to-morrow." 
 
 " So much the better it will shorten the time." 
 
 " What time, Gerard ? " 
 
 " The time that stands between me and the day you will be 
 my wife. You see I have been unhappy so long that somehow I 
 tear that I may wake up to-morrow to find you flown, as after 
 that evening in the Khedive's gardens. How could you make 
 your heart so cruel to me 1 Could you not have destroyed what 
 kept us apart then, as you did last night 1 " 
 
 " Yes ! " Marina answers. 
 
 " Was it a fear that drove you from me ? " 
 
 " No ! It was a duty ! " 
 
 " And is the duty performed now ? " 
 
 "No!" 
 
 " Then tell me what it is and we will do it together ? " 
 
 This question is what Marina has dreaded. 
 
 The priest to whom she has confessed has shown her the awful 
 nature of her vow of vengeance, and has lashed and condemned 
 in words of anathema the sin in which she has lived while plotting 
 the murder of a fellow creature, but she dreads Edwin An- 
 struther's condemnation more. In Egypt, when he had become 
 strong enough for light duty, and had been appointed to com- 
 mand the Provost Patrol of Alexandria, she had once seen a
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 141 
 
 wretched 'camp-follower, captured in the act of looting an Arab 
 house, brought before him. She remembers now her lover's 
 mercilessly-just, cutting voice, and the terrible glance he threw 
 upon this criminal, and trembles for herself. " What if he should 
 think her unworthy of him and put her from his heart ! " And 
 she shrinks from her punishment parade like a child would from 
 the rod. 
 
 " Don't you think," he says, after a pause, "you owe to me the 
 knowledge of what has made us unhappy?" 
 " Yes ! " she gasps. 
 
 " Then what is it ? Good heavens ! You are ill ! You are 
 fainting ! " and he has her in his arms. 
 
 " No ! But as you love me, don't ask me my vow. Some 
 day when I have made you think that I am very good some day 
 when as your wife I have tried to show you that I am better 
 than you might think me, I'll tell you all. Gerard for my 
 sake don't ask me now ! " 
 
 After a little pause he says very slowly, but very tenderly : 
 " I think I understand you, dear one ; you have made some oath 
 of renunciation of the world ; I have often wondered, why so 
 young and beautiful a creature, not even of our nation, did such 
 noble, gentle, Christian work in all that misery and death of the 
 English hospital at Alexandria. You are a Sister of Charity 
 without the garb You fear I will condemn you because you have 
 given up your vow to God for your love for me. I am Catholic 
 enough to respect that vow, and when I am your husband, dear 
 one, will help you to keep its spirit. There's suffering enough in 
 England ; and you shall be the Lady Bountiful of Beechwood 
 Your vow has made you dearer than ever to me. Did it not 
 give me woman's nursing and woman's sympathy when I was far 
 from home ? God bless you ! " and he gives her a kiss of rever- 
 ence as well as passion. 
 
 Marina shudders in his arms. Dare she tell him now *} she 
 had gone into that hospital not as an angel of mercy, but an 
 angel of death. 
 
 She can only gasp, " Don't ! You make me ashamed of myself 
 Gerard, will God ever forgive me ? " 
 
 " For loving me .? Of course He will ! But it distresses you. 
 and I shall say no more about it until you ask me to help your 
 work in dear old Hampshire." From this he goes off into a 
 description of the good she can do in his English country home : 
 and how she will be the toast of the county, and the belle of the 
 meets at country side and race balls, when she is the lady of the 
 Manor at Beechwood. 
 
 She listens to him, at ease again, for she knows he will keep
 
 142 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 his word, and some day, a long way off, when she has shown him 
 how great her love is for him and that she has repented, she will 
 confess to him and get his pardon. 
 
 Continuing, he asks her, " When shall the wedding be ? " 
 Here she surprises him and makes him very joyful, for she says, 
 hiding her head in his breast, " The sooner the better." This he 
 thinks is because she wishes to please him, when Marina's great 
 thought is to get away from her old life as quickly as possible. 
 
 " Will a week be too short a time 1 " says this sailor, who be- 
 lieves in rapid action. 
 
 " No ! Gerard, if it is your will and will make you happy," 
 she answers simply, giving him her hand. Soon after they return 
 to the hotel and he goes to tell his sister the news. 
 
 As Marina passes up to her parlor, Tomasso, who has been 
 waiting for her in the hall, enters after her and, taking off his 
 hat very respectfully, mutters with an embarrassed air, " Made- 
 moiselle Marina, will you permit your old attendant, who is also 
 your foster-father, to ask you a question ? " 
 
 " Certainly, dear Tomasso," says the girl, holding out to him a 
 hand which he kisses in a stately, reverential manner, standing 
 before her in his native, picturesque costume, like a feudal ser- 
 vitor, making a figure that Meissonier might have immortalized 
 with his brush, and called the portrait, " An Old Corsican." 
 
 So he begins, in his patois, " This English officer who has been 
 with you so much these last two days the one you nursed when 
 I was with you in Egypt is he a spy that is to betray his fellow 
 who murdered your brother and my foster-son, into our hands ? " 
 
 "No ! " replies Marina very faintly, " No, Tomasso, he is the 
 man I love." 
 
 " He is English. Impossible ! " 
 
 " Impossible ? When I marry him ? " says the girl sharply, for 
 she will have no disrespect shown to the man she honors, even by 
 Tomasso, who has dandled her as a, child on his knee and is very 
 dear to her. 
 
 " You marry one of the brood who murdered him ? Your bro- 
 ther's picture ! It has gone from the wall ! You no longer dare 
 look it in the face ! " this he utters as if astonished, and then 
 gives a great cry of woe, " Maledicta f You have forgotten your 
 vow ! " 
 
 Every word of his has stung Maiina like a lash. 
 
 " Don't reproach me ! " she cries, " Tomasso, don't reproach me ! 
 The Church has taught me revenge is a crime." 
 
 " A crime ? To slay thy brother's murderer ? Antonio, your 
 sister has betrayed you ! But I, your foster-father, will remem- 
 ber ! " Then this old man hisses at Marina, " Love has turned
 
 MR. BAKNES OF NEW YORK. 14 
 
 your blood to water ! You, a Paoli, have forgotten you are a Cor- 
 sican ! and for this scum ! " 
 
 He gets no further ; his mistress turns upon him, a blaze of fury 
 in her eyes, crying, " I am still Corsican enough not to take insult 
 from your lips ! Though you are dear to me as one of my family, 
 one word of disrespect to him I adore, to him, who is my lord, 
 and therefore your master, and you leave me forever ! " 
 
 At this the old man falls at her feet, whimpers like a dog, kisses 
 her hand and begs her to forgive him, for he is a blood-hound that 
 has grown old in service ; obedient to his mistress' whip ; but face 
 to face with his prey his eyes will become red ; and then all the 
 leashes and lashes in the world could not keep him from flying at 
 his quarry's throat and killing. 
 
 " Very well ! " says Marina, relinquishing to him her hand, " I 
 love you, Tomasso, and I pardon but if after this you utter one 
 word that is not honor to him, I forgive no more ! " 
 
 So he goes out from her and stands as if stricken with despair, 
 muttering to himself, " Danella will have a word, to say to this ! 
 A Paoli not a Corsican ? Heaven will turn her heart that such 
 dishonor do not come to us ! " 
 
 From this time he treats Edwin as his master ; for he knows a 
 sign of disrespect would cause the girl he worships to send him 
 from her , but at times, when looking at Anstruther, his eyes have 
 a peculiar and not kindly glance. 
 
 As for his mistress, she looks after her servitor's retreating 
 form, and thinks, " The sturdy old fellow, faithful in his loves, 
 faithful in his hates he is a better Corsican than I ! " Here she 
 laughs a little to herself, and cries, " I must send him to Father 
 Enrique, to make him repent like me ! " then suddenly becomes 
 very pale, and mutters with white lips, " My God, what will Dan 
 ella do ? "'
 
 144 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIIL 
 
 SATAN ENTERS PARADISE. 
 
 MR. ANSTRUTHKR strolls into Lady Chartris' parlor, and asks, 
 " Where's Enid 1 " 
 
 " Searching the hotel for you,'' says that matron, with a serious 
 voice ; " Edwin, you're to go to bed at once." 
 
 " To bed, mamma ! " cries Maud, in astonishment. " Has he 
 done anything naughty ? " Bed in the day time, to her, is a 
 synonym of punishment. 
 
 " Of course not. He is ill." 
 
 " Oh, ill ? " Here the girl turns her eyes on the supposed inva- 
 lid, and diagnoses his case in an instant. " He looks too awfully 
 jolly to be ill ! " 
 
 " Maud, you're a very clever young lady," remarks Anstruther. 
 Looking a, r the girl, a little sea-dog pleasantry comes to him, and 
 he gives Lady Chartris this shot : " What are you educating 
 Maud to be ? " 
 
 " A lady, of course ! Why do you ask 1 " 
 
 " Oh ! " here he put a critical eye on the girl's abbreviated cos- 
 tume, and replies, " I had a suspicion you were bringing her up 
 for the ballet." 
 
 " Chestnuts ! " screams Maud, merrily. 
 
 " I don't like sailor jokes before children," says the widow, with 
 a very red face, and, " What do you mean by chestnuts, Maud 1 " 
 for Maud has learnt this Americanism from Mr. Barnes. 
 
 " I mean I've heard that thing before ! " laughs the miserable 
 infant, rushing to her fate : " Von Biilow asked me how old 
 I was the other day, and I told him I was only eleven, but that 
 I had had three birthdays that you had said nothing about, and 
 on which you gave me no presents ! " She emphasizes the presents 
 with a very savage glance at her mother, who says in a trembling 
 voice, " Well ? " for Baron Von Billow's foreign airs and graces 
 have made a cruel breach in her ardent old heart. 
 
 " Well, then he said, ' Mamma makes you a ballet girl because 
 she is too ancient to be one herself, petite ? ' " 
 
 Anstruther who has looked on, slightly amused at all this, is 
 now astonished and somewhat shocked. 
 
 Lady Chartris becomes a pale saffron sallow, save her two rouge 
 spots that are now streaked by a couple of trickling tears ; she
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 145 
 
 .says to Maud in a voice that permits no reply, " Leave the 
 i uom i " 
 
 u You're not going to punish her for my fault, I hope, Lady 
 Ohartris ? " asks Edwin. 
 
 " Certainly not ! but I am going to take my child to England 
 to-morrow, away from men who teach her to despise her mother ! " 
 She says this with some dignity, and leaves him, her resolution 
 having more effect on Edwin's fate than he knows of at the time. 
 
 He is scarcely by himself a moment when Enid, running in, 
 says in an anxious voice, " Where have you been ? You have 
 made me so miserable. Doctor Sandwich and I have been look- 
 ing for you all day. He prescribes immediate rest ! Now go to 
 bed, dear, and I'll bring him up to see you at once." 
 
 t; No doctors for well men, Enid ! " 
 
 " You are not ill ? " She gazes at him astonished. 
 
 " Never better in my life ! " and he emphasizes his remark with 
 <i hearty gufiaw. 
 
 At this she suddenly cries, "Why! you've got back your old 
 laugh." 
 
 " My old laugh ? " 
 
 " Yes ! The one you told me you had left behind you in 
 Egypt." 
 
 " Oh ah ! Yes of course ! I'm feeling up to a prize-fight 
 now. This morning had you brought force to compel me to go to 
 bed, the fainting invalid would have astounded you." 
 
 " Astounded me 1 " 
 
 " Yes. He would have knocked out every Franco-Italian waiter 
 in the hotel." 
 
 " Then you are not sick this morning ? " and he gets a reproach- 
 ful glance that makes him ashamed of himself, but he says, dog- 
 gedly, " No ! " 
 
 On this Enid's face becomes angry, and she cries, " So you 
 caused me, your sister, a day of anxious misery by pretending to 
 faint oh ! what a heartless, practical joke. Then you disappear ; 
 iind this afternoon, coming back in your genial quarter-deck man- 
 ner, with some other of your vulgar sailor witticisms send Lady 
 Chartris in hysterics to her room, and poor Maud into despair. 
 She is howling now at the thought of being dragged back to Eng- 
 land to school infamous ! " But this invective ends suddenly 
 with a shudder, and the girl sobs, " You must be delirious, dear 
 one I'll have the doctor ! " 
 
 Here Edwin gives another peal of merriment and asks, " Is that 
 a maniac's laugh ? " 
 
 " No ! but what sane reason could you have for torturing one 
 who loves you, by pretending illness ? " 
 (10)
 
 14 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 " Monaco is a pleasant loitering place and ' Burton, darling,' 
 could wait." 
 
 " So that was your reason. You preferred those frightful rou- 
 lette tables to taking me to him ! Oh ! ho ! " Rage stops her, 
 but women are not often speechless long, from any cause , and, 
 after a second, she exclaims, " No ! you needn't pretend to love 
 :ne and try to pull me upon the sofa beside you ; and embrace me 
 in your great brutal sailor captain's way let me alone ! " She 
 gives a vicious stamp of her little foot, and then shoots at him, 
 " Is this your duty to your sister in the hazard of her life? " 
 
 " Hazard of your life ? What do you mean ? " 
 
 " Don't you think as my brother and my guardian you ought to 
 take me to England and investigate the character of Mr. Barnes ; 
 to discover if he is worthy, before you entrust my life to his keep- 
 ing." 
 
 At this cunning appeal to carry her back to the absent Barnes, 
 Mr. Anstruther gives a grin, and having all the winning cards in 
 his hand proceeds to play them in a very lazy and nonchalant 
 way. " Oh ! ah ! I am sorry you don't think ' Burton, darling,' 
 worthy of you. Perhaps I had better break off the match by let- 
 ter, Enid ! " 
 
 " Heavens ! Do you want to break my heart ? He is the 
 learest, noblest fellow upon earth ! But, then, as a matter of 
 lorm, you know it is your duty to investigate him." 
 
 " Impossible, for a few days ! I have a reason." 
 
 " Then why didn't you tell it this morning instead of frighten- 
 ' ! ig me so unkindly ? " 
 
 "I did not like to speak of the matter then" 
 
 " Ah ? " Miss Anstruther is suspicious. 
 
 " But will tell you now." 
 
 " Darling ! " Miss Anstruther is curious. 
 
 " I am going to be married ! " 
 
 " Married ! Edwin ! To whom ?" and Enid is questioning with 
 res and tongue together. " It can't be Mildred Lawrence? She's 
 the only English girl here." 
 
 " I have not the honor of that young lady's acquaintance." 
 
 " You know no one ! Great Heavens ! Lady Chartris is agi- 
 i <ted ; she fears to meet me Oh ! it is she ! My poor brother, 
 die designing woman is old enough to be your mother ! " 
 
 This is uttered in such agony that Edwin suggests, " Guess 
 ;igain. What do you say to Maud ? She was also excited when 
 1 last saw her." 
 
 " This is too serious for fun. What English people do you know 
 I. ere?" 
 
 " None ! But what would you say to Mademoiselle Paoli ? "
 
 MU. BA11XES OF NEW YORK. 147 
 
 " Edwin ! It is she ! You love her ! " 
 
 " With all my heart ! and you ? " 
 
 " She is the dearest creature in the world ; but I wish she was 
 not a foreigner ! " and Enid's face is a little troubled. 
 
 " Yes, it is hard ! " says Mr. Anstruther grimly. " Barnes is 
 one, too, I am told. Did I object to him ? " 
 
 " No, darling ! and I hope you will be as happy as I am ; 1 
 can't wish you any more," murmurs Enid. Then she suddenly 
 cries as if struck by an idea, " Why you're the man she's been 
 breaking her heart about ! That's the reason she used to kiss me 
 nearly to death ; she thought I looked like you ; you were her 
 love that was hopeless. Oh my ! How romantic ! She has a 
 vow ! " 
 
 " Yes," says Edwin, very happy at these revelations. 
 
 " You know ? " 
 
 " Of course ! " 
 
 " Oh ! tell me all about it ! " 
 
 " She was to be a nun, She prayed all last night before she 
 gave it up for me." 
 
 " Why, at one time I thought she was a Nihilist, or somebody 
 that went about killing people." 
 
 " Don't talk nonsense, Enid," Mr. Anstruther says very sharply. 
 
 " But I am sure she did say something about assassination, 
 and then, Burton " 
 
 " I don't think you had better tell me what Burton said," re- 
 marks Anstruther, with a dangerous ring in his voice, " But, by 
 Heaven ! if he says anything against my angel ! I'll ! " 
 
 " Stop ! " cries Enid, with a little tremor in her voice and 
 growing very pale ; for, though every drop of blood in her body 
 is thoroughbred, she is mortally afraid of setting these two men 
 she loves at each other's throats by any words of hers. ' Mr. 
 Barnes invariably spoke to me of Mademoiselle Paoli in the high 
 est terms and with the greatest respect." 
 
 " So I had presumed. Marina told me he introduced you to 
 her." 
 
 "Hedidi" 
 
 " Do you insult him by supposing he would make you, his future 
 wife, acquainted with any one unworthy of your friendship ? " 
 
 " Certainly not ! " 
 
 " What did he say about her 1 " 
 
 " He said that be feared she was breaking her heart, and it 
 was a pity that one so young and beautiful would not let herself 
 be happy." 
 
 " A sensible fellow ! I endorse his remark but remember, I 
 must have no prevarication in this. If Mr. Barnes has made any
 
 148 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 charges against Mademoiselle Paoli he shall have a chance to prove 
 them, and if he doesn't, by the Lord ! " 
 
 " Remember I am your sister, and never feared you or any one 
 else sufficiently to lie to them. Now what do you want to know ? " 
 says Miss Anstruther with dignity, a bright red spot of anger in 
 either cheek. 
 
 " What was the worst thing Mr. Barnes ever said about 
 Marina ? " 
 
 " Well, when she disappointed me about being my bridesmaid, 
 he said" 
 
 "Ah! What?" 
 
 " I presume you know some girl in England who can take her 
 place." 
 
 "Was that all?" 
 , " Yes ! " 
 
 At this her brother looks at her contemptuously a second, and 
 says, "Well I'm d ! " He catches the naughty word between 
 his teeth and goes on, " What do you mean, any way ? " 
 
 " I mean," says Enid, who is perfectly content to take all the 
 blame so long as the absent Barnes does not share her brother's 
 wrath, " I mean foreign girls are sometimes queer." 
 
 " Queer, perhaps ; but not queer enough to try, on nothing, to 
 poison a brother's mind against the woman he loves. Enid, I am 
 ashamed of you ! " 
 
 " You can say what you like of me ! " returns the young lady, 
 ' but don't you dare to utter a word against the man I love ! " 
 
 " Of course not ! Mr. Barnes, apparently, has common sense; 
 I am only sorry that his future wife has so little," remarks An- 
 struther caustically ; and then he begins to pace the room and look 
 indignantly and reproachfully at his sister, whose meekness, to 
 tell the truth, rather astonishes him, as Enid has a way of gener- 
 ally going into the front rank of the battle and staying there. 
 
 " Why don't you answer me ? " he breaks out, facing his sister 
 and looking like a wounded lion. " What have I done to you 
 that you should try to make me unhappy ? When you wrote to 
 me saying you loved, did I retort, ' He is a foreigner perhaps a 
 dynamiter and an assassin ? ' You had only known Mr. Barnes 
 one week. I took your word that he was a gentleman and worthy 
 of your love." 
 
 "Yes, dear, you were kindness itself," and there are tears in 
 Enid's eyes, as she remembers her brother's letter. 
 
 " Yet, when I come to you and say : Here is the woman I have 
 worshiped for a year one who did a saint's work nursing the 
 wounded and dying who beat death from my couch, and when I 
 awoke from delirium said, ' It shall be my office to make you well,
 
 ME. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 149 
 
 so that your loved sister that you raved about shall see her brother's 
 face again on earth.' " 
 
 " O oh ! The darling ! " cries Enid, running to the door. 
 
 But Edwin, catching her, sternly demands, " Where are you 
 going ? " 
 
 " To give Marina a sister's kiss, dear ! " 
 
 He detains her for a moment in his arms and says, " You are 
 very dear to me, but don't you think you were a little foolish to- 
 day ? " 
 
 " Don't b-b-bully me any more," whispers his sister, choking. 
 " Can't you see I am c-c-crying now." She breaks from him and 
 going to Marina's rooms, salutes that young lady as her sister, and 
 means it, for, after that hospital speech, not even Mr. Barnes 
 could have made her believe anything but good of her brother's 
 nurse. 
 
 After a few moments Marina says, " Enid, your eyes are red." 
 
 " Yes, I've been scolded for you, dear." 
 
 " Impossible ! " 
 
 " Yes, I told him of your vow." 
 
 " Not what I said to you," falters Marina. 
 
 " Oh, he didn't let me." 
 
 " No what did he say ? " 
 
 " He commenced to strut and hector about and look like a lion 
 at bay, and cry, ' By Heavens, if that Barnes says anything 
 against my angel ! ' " and Enid laughs and gives a little panto- 
 mime of her brother's rage ; then suddenly says, " Marina, don't 
 tell him what Burton said to you about not associating with me, it 
 would make trouble betwe'en the two men wo love." 
 
 The Corsican considers a moment ; then takes Miss Anstruther 
 by both arms, looks her straight in 'the face and replies very 
 gravely, "Certainly not ! Mr. Barnes was perfectly right ; I have 
 taken his advice. My vow is a thing of my past ; there is nothing 
 now that can prevent my making a good wife to your brother. 
 Do you believe me ? " 
 
 " Don't I ! " cries Enid, emphasizing her words with a tender 
 embrace. " What a curious vow it must have been." 
 
 " Some day I will tell you," whispers the Corsican " but not 
 now now it is too sad a remembrance ; but never doubt me or 
 my love for your brother." 
 
 " As if I could ! " returns Enid. " Come down, my sister, and 
 make her happy as well as me." 
 
 At this the two girls go together to Mr. Anstruther, when it is 
 settled that Enid is to be Marina's bridesmaid ; and then, the 
 wedding over, they are all to go to England for another. 
 
 Miss Anstruther looks at the billing and cooing of the two
 
 150 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 / 
 
 lovers, until she feels like an unhappy Peri standing at the gates 
 of Paradise, then wanders off to write a long letter to the absent 
 Barnes, containing much unexpected and curious news. 
 
 Late at night, as Enid is going to bed, a knock comes to her 
 door, " Who is it ? " she cries. 
 
 " Marina ! " 
 
 As the beautiful Corsican enters, Miss Anstruther asks, " Any- 
 thing the matter?" 
 
 " No ! but I thought you might like to talk about him." 
 
 " Come in bed with me, dear, and we'll devote the night to 
 Burton." 
 
 " No, I mean Edwin ! " murmurs Marina, with a laugh. 
 
 " Of course ! How selfish I am. We'll halve them ; I'll talk of 
 one, you of the other." 
 
 And whispering of their two Adams, these two beautiful Eves 
 sink into blissful slumber ; while the early morning train brings 
 into Monte Carlo, the Serpent, in the form of Count Musso 
 Danella, with the apple of knowledge, which is the root of evil, in 
 his hand. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 SATAN LAUGHS. 
 
 LADY CHARTRIS having wasted the devotion of her ardent, but 
 aged heart on the youthful fascinations of that volatile attache of 
 the German Embassy at Paris, Baron Von Billow, his ..remark, as 
 reported by Maud, together with that gentleman's marked and 
 constant attention for the past few days to a young Hungarian 
 countess, have disgusted the widow with the f rivolties of Monaco. 
 
 That lady and her family leave the Grand Hotel early next 
 morning. 
 
 As Enid bids her good-bye she whispers to her, " You are 
 going straight to London ? " 
 
 " Yes ! trust me to get out of this horrible country as soon as 
 possible." 
 
 "Then, if you are sure, take this," says Miss Anstruther, press- 
 ing into her hand a little packet, with these words, " It is for 
 Burton. Give it to him immediately you arrive in London. He 
 will call on you. I will telegraph your address. Tell him how I 
 wish I could have gone with you ; but I must stay to see Edwin 
 married."
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 151 
 
 At the station, just prior to the departure of their train, a 
 gentleman, with a foreign manner, noticing Lady Chartris and her 
 daughter, suddenly starts and looks interested. He has apparently 
 just arrived, being covered with the dust and stain of a long 
 journey. After a moment's consideration, he approaches them, 
 and, taking off his hat, politely remarks, "You will pardon me, 
 I am Count Danella, Mademoiselle Paoli's guardian. You are 
 Lady Chartris ; I saw you once in Nice, but had not the pleasure 
 of an introduction. I recognize you by your charming little girl 
 Maud, is it not ? " 
 
 "Correct !" returns that young lady. 
 
 "What can I do for you, Count 1 " says Lady Chartris, slightly 
 surprised. 
 
 " Marina mentioned in her letters you were the chaperon of her 
 charming friend, Mademoiselle Enid. You are departing from 
 Menaco ; does the young lady and her brother go with you ? " 
 
 " No ! They are both at the Grand Hotel. But you will 
 excuse me, Count ; I will miss the train." 
 
 Musso carefully places the widow and family in their compart- 
 nuent, glancing about to see that no one else is in their party, for 
 hf is a man who prefers to be sure on important points. Just as 
 tht train is going he suddenly asks, turning pale, " Marina, she 
 wa; to meet me in Nice last night ; she was not there ! She is 
 wel ? " 
 
 "Very well, and jolly happy!" cries Maud, and would tell 
 mort, but the train carries her and her news away. 
 * Duiella takes off his hat again, a peculiar smile of triumph in 
 his free, and mutters, " He is not running away Good ! Now, 
 Marixa will no longer refuse my reward." 
 
 Lacy Chartris, on reaching Paris, thinks she might as well do 
 some shopping, and loiters there, delaying Miss Anstruther's 
 package, but postage stamps are much more reliable than friend- 
 ship, -when applied to the delivery of correspondence. 
 
 Arri/ed at the Grand Hotel, M. Danella examines the register 
 and veifies Lady Chartris' report, then goes to his room and 
 makes an. elaborately dainty toilet of the whitest linen, reddest 
 necktie, and brightest patent leather boots ; humming to himself, 
 in the widest manner, a gay little French chanson with a quaint 
 refrain, 
 
 "A Gibraltar! A Gibraltar!" 
 
 After a vtrse or two of this, his face becomes very serious, how- 
 ever, and he communes with himself in a gloomy philosophical 
 manner ujon what his visit to Gibraltar has produced. On 
 arriving at the great British station, he has soon discovered that
 
 152 MB. BARNHS OF NEW YORK. 
 
 three extra officers had sailed from there as passengers on board 
 the Vulture to join their ships in Egypt ; which easily accounted 
 for their names being omitted from the list forwarded from the 
 Admiralty office in England. They were Charles Marion 
 Phillips, George Fellows Arthur and Edwin Gerard Anstruther. 
 
 A little investigation assured the Count that it must have been 
 one of these three men who fought the duel ; as it would have 
 been almost impossible for a regular officer of the vessel to have 
 obtained shore leave at Ajaccio on the very morning of the ship's 
 sailing. 
 
 There are always a large number of English men-of war at 
 Gibraltar, and information in regard to the. locality and move- 
 ments of naval officers is not difficult to obtain. Danella was 
 soon en rapport with the ward-room messes of half the British 
 squadron. He entertained them on shore, and they invited him 
 to dinner on board their ships. He soon learnt that Charles 
 Marion Phillips had gone to the East India station, and George 
 Fellows Arthur had been killed in action in Egypt on the Sealark. 
 Mr. Anstruther he already knew was on duty on the same vesse! 
 which had just arrived from Nice. Mr. Barnes, after falling in 
 love with the last named gentleman's sister, and probably meeting 
 the young lieutenant in person in Nice, had suddenly exhibit."! 
 enough interest in Marina's vow to call upon her, and, by deliver- 
 ing the message of the dying brother, attempt to induce her to 
 relinquish her pursuit of the man who had killed him a trovble 
 he had never cared to take before. Probably the American had 
 recognized the English officer as the one of the duel. Of the 
 three passengers on the Vulture, Anstruther was evidently the 
 the man to be investigated first. 
 
 Count Danella contrived to be invited on board the Sedark. 
 At dinner he met Anstruther, and they soon became intiuates, 
 almost comrades ; for Musso could make himself extremeb faci- 
 nating when it suited his interest to be so. Edwin breakfasted 
 with the Count, and the Count dined with him ; and, wjen on 
 shore, Anstruther sometimes spent the night at Danella's quarters. 
 But, with all his art of conversation and tact at producing confi- 
 dences, M. le Comte could never draw one word from the Snglish 
 lieutenant about the duel on the shore at Ajaccio. Musso dared 
 not question directly, and so was compelled to look forcircum- 
 stantial evidence, of which, after a time, Providence gav* him all 
 he wanted. 
 
 Anstruther had received his leave, and had told the Jount he 
 should come on shore the night before his departure for Nice and 
 Monaco. 
 
 " You take your baggage with you, I presume, my deal Edwin ? " 
 remarked the Count.
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 153 
 
 "At first," returned Anstruther, "I had intended to let it go 
 to England on the Sealark : it's much less trouble, you know. 
 But, as I sha'n't join my ship again she is to be paid off', and 
 may be in the dry-dock before I return to the old country and 
 as my sister may keep me long on the Continent, I hav/e decided 
 ko take it with me." 
 
 " Let's go on board now, and I'll help you pack." 
 
 " Much obliged, Danella, but I finished that before I came on 
 shore." 
 
 " Ah ! You make me happy. Then you are here for the day ! 
 I shall not let you go from me now ! Send for your baggage ! 
 Dine and sleep with me here, and I'll see you off in the morning." 
 
 " I hardly like to refuse you, Danella, but I ought to bid good- 
 bye to Harrison of the Rifles, and McDermot of the Marines ; 
 they're old friends, and you know I leave the service. This will 
 be my last cruise, and, perhaps, my last visit to Gibraltar." 
 
 " You shall do both, my young English friend ! " cried the 
 Count ; " McDermot and Harrison shall dine with me too, and 
 your last day of active duty shall end with a merry night ! " 
 
 Anstruther sent for his baggage. Danella gave him and his 
 friends as delightful a little dinner as could have been obtained 
 at the Cafe Anglais, Paris, for he was a connoisseur in all mat- 
 ters of the table, and as the Spanish wines were very heady 
 and fiery, Lieutenant Edwin Gerard Ansfruther, of the Queen's 
 navy, went to bed rather top-heavy and slept very soundly. 
 
 The next morning the Count saw him off on his road to France ; 
 but, as he was bidding him good-bye, took a peculiar squint at a 
 valise among Edwin's luggage, and cried, " I may meet you at 
 Nice or Monte Carlo, my boy ! So, au revoir ! " 
 
 After running this through in his mind, Danella's face becomes 
 very serious, and he mutters to himself, "What a pity he's 
 such a fine fellow but all for love ! Now, that I have fulfilled 
 my promise, my little dove cannot be unkind to her Musso. But 
 how to finish the affair ? Corsica's the place ! All Englishmen 
 are sportsmen. I'll invite him to a moufflon bateau Marina 
 shall shoot a sheep ! and then Voila ! " 
 
 This exclamation he fires out of his mouth like a pistol-shot, 
 bursts into a merry laugh, rings the bell and says, to the answer- 
 ing servant, " My card for Mademoiselle Paoli." 
 
 In his intercourse with that young lady, M. Danella employs a 
 great deal of stately ceremony, which she demands and he tenders 
 very willingly, as he is, in every way, careful of his fair ward's 
 good name. The small proprieties of life the Count observes ; 
 but, to gain Marina, big ones are bagatelles. 
 
 " Mademoiselle Paoli will receive Monsieur ! " says the servant 
 returning, and with that shows him to Marina's parlor.
 
 154 MR. BAKNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 At the door Danella pauses, almost trembles, passes a hand- 
 kerchief over his throbbing temples to wipe from them the 
 moisture of intense nervous excitement, then suddenly a flash of 
 longing anticipation makes his delicate features radiant. He 
 mutters to himself with almost a sarcastic smile, " At last, Musso, 
 you old fool ! " and opens the door that keeps him from the 
 happiness he thinks he has won. 
 
 Since she has read his name upon the card, Marina has been 
 thinking, " What in his wild disappointment will this man do ? " 
 She knows Danella's nature too well to suppose that he will let 
 his dream of existence be plucked from him in the moment of 
 realization, without a fierce struggle, and perchance, if it comes 
 in his way, a cruel revenge. It is the last that makes her fear 
 her guardian. He may tell Edwin of her vow may prove her 
 ministry in the Egyptian hospital was that of a hypocrite, not a 
 saint. She knows the opinion that Gerard has of all deceit 
 this makes her tremble. But here her great love rises up in her 
 and gives her courage to destroy any hope the Count may have, 
 and to baffle any plan he may devise to separate her from the 
 man she adores. 
 
 When Musso opens the door he sees a woman divinely beauti- 
 ful ; for the great happiness of the last two days has left its re- 
 flection on her face, which is pale but beaming with courage and 
 resolution. 
 
 She comes towards him, holding out a hand that trembles a 
 little as he kisses it. He exclaims, " Ma belle, what witchery in 
 the joy of the roulette table to make such a change 1 No more 
 the drooping Niobe of Nice ; you are the Venus of Monte Carlo. 
 As all things come to them that wait, so has my triumph come 
 to me. We have your enemy ! And, when all that is over, you 
 will keep your promise 1 " and would take her in his arms. 
 
 But she struggles from him and cries, " Never ! " in a voice that 
 makes him pause. 
 
 " You hardly understand me I think," he says after a moment, 
 growing very pale. "Beautiful one, you surely remember some 
 time ago you gave me a promise, perhaps not in words, but still, 
 I think we understood each other, that when I had given you 
 vengeance, you should give me love, and consent to make your 
 Musso happy, who has but one hope and that hope you ! " 
 
 " Don't remind me ! " says Marina, getting as pale as he is. 
 
 " My glorious news has excited you ; you are trembling, but 
 the eyes of love are not blind ; I can see you are happy." 
 
 " I hope to be," murmurs the girl, "if you will but let me." 
 
 " Will not I ! Count on Danella ! I can place my hand on the 
 object of your vow ! Bv uny aid you will he able to look on the
 
 MR. BARXES OF NEW YORK. 155 
 
 tomb of your brother and be not ashamed ! You can cry, 
 ' Antonio ! Rest in peace ! Your sister did not forget your 
 wrongs ! She is a Corsican ! ' " 
 
 The enthusiasm of his manner and the elan of his speech for 
 one instant make her the Marina of old, and she takes up his 
 strain, whispering with a hoarse voice, " When the murderer of 
 my brother lies dead at my feet, then, who can sing the Rimbecco 
 to me then, who can reproach ? " As she says this Marina 
 stands as if still a priestess at the altar of vengeance. But the 
 next moment shuddering, she sobs, " Have I not conquered my 
 hate for his love ? Know that the vow of the Vendetta died in 
 me two nights ago; that my brother's assassin, were he helpless 
 before me now, is safe ! " 
 
 " Are you crazy ? " asks the Count, becoming even paler than 
 before. 
 
 "Not now, but I was ! Thank Heaven my eyes are open ! I 
 have confessed ! I am absolved ! I sin no more ! " 
 
 " And you renounce the vow of your life for a dogma of the 
 Church ? " he falters. 
 
 " For more ! For my happiness ! For my love ! I hated and 
 was accused I love and am happy ! " As she says this the 
 Count sees an expression come into the girl's face that was never 
 there before, his heart becomes very heavy. 
 
 " You love 1 " he gasps. 
 
 "Love ? I adore! " 
 
 " It cannot be ! No one could help you in your vow as I can. 
 This this man will not be the slave of your hate as I will he 
 cannot love you well enough for that." 
 
 " Thank God ! No ! " 
 
 "Ah! He is some thoughtless boy who will make you his 
 handmaiden ; who will not worship you like Danella, who Jitis 
 seen you grow up to be beautiful ; who has learnt to love your 
 graces as you became the fairest upon earth ! Pity me ! I heave 
 only you." With this he falls at her feet, and with the extra- 
 vagant gestures of the Latin race, bathes her hands in tears and 
 dries them with his kisses. 
 
 " You have been very very good to me all my life," says the 
 girl tenderly, for his despair moves her, and to this moment no 
 man in the world could have been more considerate of her 
 wishes. 
 
 "Ah! you are beginning to remember at last! When as a 
 child you cried for a bauble, who gave it to you ? Musso ! When 
 as a woman you cried to Heaven for vengeance, who gave up 
 luxury in Paris and ran half the world over that you might ful- 
 fill your vow 1 } Danella ! the man you are deserting for a,
 
 156 MB. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 i stranger the man whose heart is in your hands Come, I will 
 i ell you who it is you are to slay, and you will love me ! " 
 
 At this Marina gives a cry, and falters, " Don't tell ni that ! 
 In mercy, not that ! " Then looking straight into his face witli 
 flashing eyes, shouts at him, " I forbid you ! Dare to tell me 
 that and I shall hate you ! Do you see that bare wall ! My 
 brother's picture is torn from it ! If I have forgotten him, for 
 love of this man, do you think I will remember you 1 " Marina 
 points to the place where Antonio's 'picture had hung till An- 
 struther had conquered her. 
 
 Danella rises slowly and gazes at her for a moment, and then 
 mutters in a broken voice, " You love him well enough for that ? " 
 Since he has been on his knees he seems to have grown older, his 
 face has more wrinkles. 
 
 " I love him well enough to give up my vow for him ; I love 
 him well enough to make my life one that will do him honor," 
 says the girl proudly. 
 
 " Impossible ! " 
 
 " Impossible ! Within the week I marry him ! " 
 
 " Marry him ? You forget, I am your guardian. You are 
 but twenty. By the law of France you must have my consent ! 
 I refuse it ! " 
 
 " I have thought of that the man I marry is not French ; 
 we will be married where French law does not prevail. You dare 
 not drag me back to France ! I defy you ! " Marina utters 
 this boldly. 
 
 Danella sees she is resolved ; for a moment his face is haggard 
 with misery ; but, in another second, it assumes the appearance of 
 profound thought, as he asks, " Tell me, is the man you love of a 
 noble, honest nature ? " 
 
 " Noble as a god ! " 
 
 " Then, Mademoiselle, my task is an easy one. I have but to 
 go to this very noble gentleman and tell him for the last year that 
 you have been hunting a human being, as you would a beast of 
 prey, with murder in your heart, and if he is the man you say 1m 
 is, he will hardly marry a Corsican tigress." 
 
 " Tell him that, and he will say you lie ! " cries Marina des- 
 perately. 
 
 "I'll prove the lie; and then run him through the body for his 
 insult ! " remarks Danella, with a wicked look, which rouses the 
 anger of the haughty girl. 
 
 " You run him through the body ! you ! " she laughs, " Why, 
 he'd crush your little monkey frame as if you were a mosquito that 
 had stung him ! You prove to him I have an assassin heart? I 
 who have been his Angel of Meroy ! I, who proved to him a year
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 157 
 
 ago in Alexandria by the bpd on which he lay wounded that I was 
 a saint. Go to him with your truth, and he'll kill you as he would 
 a dog ! Here is his card ! Go to him ! " and Marina seizes one 
 from her basket and hands it to Panella. 
 
 At the first part of her speech Musso had writhed with shame, 
 at the last he stands in astonishment ; and, as be glances at the 
 iKime upon the card, he almost utters a cry of hideous triumph, 
 but by a desperate effort, fights down the joy in his heart, and 
 with an unholy light in his dark eyes mutters, " Edwin Gerard 
 Anstruther ! Is this the man ? " 
 
 " Yes !" says Marina, who is now ashamed of her cruel words 
 to one whose only crime has been that of loving her too well. 
 " You have seen him you know how noble he is. Forgive me 
 for loving him." 
 
 " I will consider," mutters Danella. You shall have my an- 
 swer to-day. Oh ! my God ! You shall repent those cruel 
 words Marina ! " He gives a gasp of love or hate, or perhaps a 
 mixture of both, and staggers from the apartment. 
 
 " I repent them now ! " cries Marina after him ; for, though 
 passionate, she is generous. 
 
 But he is out of hearing. Were he within the sound of her 
 voice, it would hardly convey meaning to his ears, for Musso 
 Danella is holding counsel with Satan. There is a horrible agony 
 on his face, but a weird, fantastic grin is convulsing his mobile 
 Italian features, while from his mouth, hissing through his white 
 teeth that are clenched in rage, there comes a laugh, such as is 
 heard in Hades when some new crime, more cruel than ever entered 
 devils' hp'rl^ before is invented, and to make Earth desolate and 
 Heaven weep.
 
 158 MH. BAHVKS OF NEW YOKK. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE VALISE MARKED " G. A." 
 
 A FEW hours after, Tomasso brings Marina a note, which reads 
 as follows : 
 
 "MONACO, May 21st, 1883. 
 " MY DEAR WARD : 
 
 " You have asked my consent to your marriage with Monsieur, 
 le lieutenant, Edwin Gerard Anstruther of the English naval ser- 
 vice. I, as your guardian, hereby grant it, formally in writing, 
 as I believe it is thus required by the law of France. Please be 
 lieve me, when I say that I think your future husband is a very 
 fine, as well as a very fortunate gentleman. Tender him my con- 
 gratulations, and mention to him that I will do myself the honor 
 to call upon him this evening to arrange the necessary legal pre- 
 liminaries for your wedding. With regards, as always, 
 
 "Your affectionate guardian, 
 
 " Musso DANELLA. 
 " To Mademoiselle Marina Paoli, 
 " Grand Hotel." 
 
 This, she shows, with beaming face to Edwin ; for Marina feels 
 that the last possible bar to her complete happiness is removed, 
 and imagines that the Count has now made up his mind to become 
 reconciled to the loss of her, seeing that her affections are entirely 
 and irrevocably another's. 
 
 " Enid, who is present, remarks, glancing at the note, " Mon- 
 sieur le Comte must be a very unceremonious sort of a gentleman ! " 
 
 " Exactly the reverse ; Danella is punctilio itself," replies the 
 Corsican. 
 
 "Well! his note doesn't look like it. The guardian proposes 
 to call upon the suitor. Edwin, here's honor for you ! " 
 
 " You see Musso and I became such chums in Gibraltar. He 
 wants another bachelor evening out of me, I suppose, and I haven't 
 many more free and easys left to me," says Anstruther, pretending 
 to give a heart-rending sigh. 
 
 At this, Marina nestles up to him and whispers, " Do you regret. 
 Mi Adorato ? " 
 
 " Regret that my great happiness is so near me ? Regret that
 
 Mil. UAKNES OF NEW YORK. lol) 
 
 I am losing the mess of the Sealark and the wits of the United 
 Service Club, for your society 1 Beg pardon at once for the insin- 
 uation, or better still, I will inflict a penance ! " 
 
 He draws her to him, but Marina exclaims, " You forget your 
 sister ! " 
 
 " Not at all ! " laughs Anstruther. " Enid, would you kiss 
 ' Burton, darling,' before me ? ' 
 
 " Th idea ! I wouldn't kiss Mr. Barnes at all ! " 
 
 " Since when?" 
 
 'Since he sent me this cruel telegram!" cried Enid. "I 
 thou ght I'd astonish him a little, and so I telegraphed him, ' Marina 
 is to be the bride and I am to be the bridesmaid Guess why?' 
 and he answered, ' Don't send cipher without key Write to me 
 instantly Your dispatches have made me very anxious Are you 
 delirious ? ' So dictatorial ! ' Write me instantly ! ' And so 
 snippy ! 'Are you delirous?' I'll show him whether I am deliri- 
 ous when I write ! " 
 
 " There's some mistake. He mentions dispatches what did 
 you telegraph him before 1 ?" says Anstruther suddenly. 
 
 " When you promised to take me to England of course I had 
 not time to write, and so I dispatched him this : I've got a copy 
 of it in my note-book ' Edwin is here. We leave for London 
 to-morrow morning. Meet me at Dover ' and when you pre- 
 tended to be ill, I sent him, ' Detained on account of sickness 
 Don't be too much disappointed ! ' Lady Chartris also has a letter, 
 to deliver, but it isn't time for him to have that." 
 
 " Why, Mr. Barnes' dispatch is a great deal clearer than your 
 telegrams, Miss Accuracy!" laughs Edwin. "Your 'Detained 
 on account of sickness ! ' has made ' Burton, darling,' think you 
 are ill, and as he knows nothing of Marina's engagement to me, 
 that bridesmaid message seems like the ravings of a lunatic. My 
 dear, I don't wonder he is anxious ! " 
 
 " Then ray stupidity has made him fear for me, the darling ! 
 Yes, if he were here I'd kiss him before you both ; " and, saying 
 this effusively, Miss Anstruther, who, in spite of her brother's 
 happiness, is very lonely without the absent Barnes, goes away, 
 leaving the lovers to themselves. 
 
 , That evening after dinner the Count enters Edwin's room with 
 a hearty, jovial, off-hand manner that is perhaps too pronounced 
 to be perfectly natural, and cries out, " Anstruther, mon a$i, my 
 congratulations ! You see my au revoir at Gibraltar was a pre- 
 sentiment ; we meet at Monte Carlo ! Let us talk over our busi- 
 ness, not as men of affairs, but as friends." 
 
 " Take a chair and a weed, Musso," Edwin answers, and, rising, 
 gives Danella's slight fingers a hearty grip that makes him wince,
 
 160 MR. UAKXliS OF NEW YOKK. 
 
 then suddenly exclaims, " What's the matter, my dear fellow ] 
 You look ten years older." 
 
 " At my age railway journeys tell upon me, and from Gibraltar 
 to Monaco is a very long one that cigar is a good one," says the 
 Count with a sigh, as he sinks into a chair in a lazy, nonchalant 
 manner, though his eager dark eyes peer about the room with a, 
 restless gaze inspecting every detail. For a moment they seem 
 disappointed, but suddenly rest with a peculiar and satisfied stare 
 upon a leather valise, marked G. A. There is nothing extra- 
 ordinary about this piece of luggage, except perhaps that it is 
 more battered, dilapidated, generally bursted up and ragged about 
 the corners and edges than any other valise of Mr. Anstruther's. 
 Still, during the whole interview the Count may force his eyes to 
 wander, but invariably they return to the old and dilapidated 
 little dirty trunk covered with numerous way-bills, and seem to 
 verily gloat over it. 
 
 " You are a good traveler, Monsieur Gerard ; you lose no bag- 
 gage on the road." 
 
 " Not a hand-satchel. Though a beggar of a porter at Mar- 
 seilles came near placing that one you are looking at, upon the 
 Lyon's train." 
 
 " Ah ! " replies the Count with a little start, "I am charmed, 
 mon ami, that it did not escape you." He gives another furtive 
 longing glance at the valise, and cries, " But to business ! You 
 wish to marry my ward ! I consent ! I would on general prin- 
 ciples have preferred a Frenchman, but I fortunately know and 
 respect you ; and with Marina, apparently, it is you or no hus- 
 band at all." 
 
 " No Frenchman would do more to make her happy, for no one 
 could love her better," returns Anstruther, and he goes off into a 
 long lover's rapture, at which the count shrugs his shoulders and 
 laughs, and finally cries, " You are an ardent boy ! " 
 
 " Of course I am ! I don't insult such beauty as Marina's by 
 playing indifference ! I wish to marry your ward within the 
 week." 
 
 "You are impetuous! mon fils ! But I agree with you, as it 
 suits my plans. I can see your wedding, render an account to 
 you of my stewardship of Marina's property, turn it over to you 
 and be in Paris in time to attend to my own affairs. Good ! I 
 consent ! Now as to your finances ? " 
 
 Here Edwin astonishes the Count by the settlements he pro- 
 poses, for Anstruther as the Master of Beechwood is very well off ; 
 and, being very much in love, is inclined to be very liberal to his 
 future wife. 
 
 In reply the Count tells him that Marina would not be consid-
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 161 
 
 t-red rich for an English girl ; but, for a Corsican, is quite an 
 iieiress ; and gives him an account of his ward's property, which 
 ^hows that under the count's careful managenien it has consider- 
 ably increased in value and income. 
 
 In conclusion he says, " You will have to come over to Corsica 
 with me, that I may surrender Maria's property to you and make 
 the proper settlement of accounts ; also that you may appoint an 
 overseer to manage your wife's estates and remit her income to 
 England, for when Marina becomes yours, I cease to take further 
 financial interest in her affairs, unless my advice is of assistance, 
 when, of course, it is at your service. .Now, to-day is Monday; 
 it is decorous and proper that my ward should marry you from my 
 home ; she can thus get another look at her country and her is- 
 land before she becomes a great English lady. The steamer leaves 
 Nice for Bastia on Wednesday ; by the next morning we are 
 rhere. Then a short day's drive through the most beautiful land 
 upon earth through low hills upon the base of the Rontondo, 
 through orange and olive groves and palm trees in short, through 
 Corsica in May, and behold us at Marina's home ! On Friday, a 
 (Jorsican wedding and then then you must look after you own 
 happiness, which will doubtless be very great ! " Here Musso 
 gives another squint at the valise marked G. A. But seeing 
 Anstruther hesitating, continues quickly, " You can return on 
 Tuesday by steamer to Marseilles ; and I can scarcely imagine a 
 more beautiful two or three days of early honeymoon, than can be 
 spent wandering with your bride through the woods of Bocognano, 
 among the romantic slopes of Del Oro and the vineyards of Vi- 
 vario. Tell Marina it is a last favor I ask, to see her wedded from 
 her native village, in a manner worthy of the last daughter of the 
 Paolis that on her nuptial day she may be a true daughter of 
 ancient Corsica, and I do not think she will refuse me." 
 
 " I accept for her, and thank you too," says Anstruther, giving 
 him a warm clasp of the hand. " It is very thoughtful of you, 
 Count. I can make the necessary arrangement as to Marina's 
 property while there, and it will save me another visit to the 
 island." 
 
 " Then it is a bargain. We leave by the Wednesday's steamer," 
 cries Danella. " Of course you will be my guest ! Mine ! Mine ! 
 all MINE ! " Musso gives the last with a kind of hissing inten- 
 sity. 
 
 "Certainly ! I and my sister will be your guests." 
 
 " Oh ah, your sister I have heard of her," remarks the 
 Count, a slight cloud passing over his face. " Take me down and 
 introduce me to Mademoiselle Enid, my dear fellow. You have a 
 beautiful sister, you will have a lovely bride, may you be happy ! "
 
 162 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 Then Musso places his arm in Edwin's, and giving one last long- 
 ing affectionate glance at the valise marked G. A., goes down 
 stairs and devotes himself to Enid Anstruther's service, making 
 himself very agreeable to that young lady by several little anec- 
 dotes he tells of the absent Barnes. 
 
 " You write to him every day, I suppose ? " laughs the Count. 
 
 " No but to-night I shall telegraph him all about our going to 
 Corsica for the wedding." 
 
 At this, Danella looks as if in deep thought for a moment ; and 
 then replies, " Give me his address and I'll save you the trouble ; 
 I can send him our route and ask him to join us and be my 
 guest." 
 
 " Will you 1 " cries Enid. " I know I can trust y-ou gentlemen 
 of the old school ; you are always so exact. It would make me 
 very happy if he were with me in Corsica," and she gives Musso 
 Barnes' address, not doubting that her sweetheart will receive the 
 news next morning. But gentlemen of the old school are some- 
 times remiss ; the Count forgets to send the message, and the 
 American hears nothing of the Corsican wedding. 
 
 Later on Marina comes to Danella and says, " A. word with 
 you ! You have been very kind in saying nothing to Edwin that 
 could be unpleasant to me. He thinks it best that I am married 
 from the home of my fathers. I go on one condition." 
 
 " "What condition, ma belle ? A handsome wedding ? It shall 
 be in true Corsican style. You and your lovely bridesmaid shall 
 be dressed in the costume of your island ! It will be beautiful 
 and happy ! " 
 
 "The condition I make is, that no one speak to me of my dead 
 brother. Tell all the peasants in my village that I have not for- 
 gotten Antonio my Heaven ! if one should sing the Rimbecco to 
 me it would break my heart." 
 
 " I will see to it," says Dunella, shortly. 
 
 " Thank you," murmurs the girl. V You have me very happy. 
 I should like to see my dear old island and the chestnut woods 
 and the white torrent of the dear river Gravona once more before 
 I become English, and forget I am no longer a Paoli and a Corsi- 
 can. God bless you, dear Musso ! " She seizes his hand and 
 kisses it and leaves him. 
 
 After she has gone Danello repents but only for a moment ; 
 for, in the moonlight, as he stands on the balcony of the hotel, he 
 sees Marina kiss her lover good night, and mutters to himself 
 with a groan of agony, " Before my face Mon Dieu I She has 
 no mercy ! Then why should I have pity ! " 
 
 Wednesday, the morning of their departure from Monaco, a 
 young English tourist, Jones by name, comes down in great nasty
 
 MR. BARNES OP NEW YOUK. 1.63 
 
 peculiar British rage to the office of the hotel, and says, with a 
 drawling cockney accent, " By Jove ! I-ah-have a-a complain r. 
 to make the man who has the next room to me, No. 187 ! " 
 " M. le Comte Danella ! murmurs the polite clerk. 
 " A Count 1 " cries the cockney. " I-ah-thought he was an 
 impressario or singing teacher, or something artistic. He had a 
 queer-looking cove that old chap that wears that romantic brig- 
 and costume like tenors sport in hop'ra ! " 
 
 l Oh ! Tomasso, Mademoiselle Paoli's servant," suggests the 
 cierk. 
 
 " Yes ! of course ! There he is with that peculiar sleepy 
 smile the one bringing down stairs that old leather valise. Well r 
 curse me if the Count didn't give him a music lesson last night, 
 and taught him the most 'orrible song I ever 'card. I've been 
 studying Hitalian, you know, and it had nothing in it but death 
 and murder and all that ; the partition was so thin, that, blow me 
 up, I thought I, 'ad the nightmare !" 
 
 " You will be troubled no more, Monsieur Jones," says the clerk, 
 " Count Danella and his party leave this morning for Corsica. 
 There goes Mademoiselle Anstruther, the English beauty." 
 
 " All ! give me the dark-eyed one ! " returns the cockney, " the 
 one stepping into the carriage. Oh Lud ! what an ankle ! And 
 awh ! did you see the look she gave the only Jones ? My picca- 
 dilly hair catches these foreign gals ! " 
 
 That evening the train from Paris brings to Monaco a young 
 man whose costume and appearance shows hasty and continuous 
 travel. It is Mr. Barnes, of New York. 
 
 In the hurry and bustle of lawyers' consultations and ocean 
 cablegrams, that his settlements on Miss Anstruther necessitate, 
 Enid's first telegram had given him a shock ; for it told him that 
 Edwin Anstruther and Marina Paoli were in the same hotel at 
 Monte Carlo. The dispatch about Marina's being a bride made 
 him fearful, and he crossed hastily to Paris ; there found Lady 
 Chartris ; received Enid's packet, and learned that what he dread- 
 ed had taken place. Unsuspecting it, Marina was about to marry 
 the man who had killed her brother ; the man against whose life 
 she had uttered the vow of the vendetta. On such a subject he 
 dare not telegraph, and the seven-twenty express that leaves Paris 
 on Tuesday night bears him as fast as steam can bring him, 
 through Lyons, Marseilles and Nice, and into Monaco, Wednes- 
 day evening. 
 
 He hurries to the Grand Hotel and says in an unusually excited 
 voice, " Take my card to Miss Anstruther ! " The .terrible errand 
 he comes on crushes even the joy of meeting her. 
 
 " Mr. Barnes," replies the clerk, who knows him very well,
 
 164 MR. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 
 
 " Miss Anstrutber left Monte Carlo this morning together with 
 her brother." 
 
 " For England? I missed them on the way." 
 
 " No for Corsica." 
 
 " For Corsica ? " gaspes Barnes, who has just received one of the 
 few genuine sensations of his life '" Good Heavens ! for what ?" 
 
 " For Mr. Anstruther's marriage to Mademoiselle Paoli. Count 
 Danella and that young lady left at the same time. The cere- 
 mony takes place on Friday, I believe, at the young lady's family 
 estate, on the island. You seem surprised." 
 
 " A little," murmurs Barnes. " I wonder they did not notify 
 me ! " 
 
 "I think they did. sir." I heard Count Danella ask Mademo- 
 iselle Anstruther for your London address in order to invite you 
 to the wedding. They were standing within hearing of this desk, 
 sir, on Monday evening." 
 
 " What time did you say ?" 
 
 " Monday evening about nine o'clock." 
 
 Barnes knows he was in London that night till twelve o'clock , 
 but his faculties are gradually coming back to him, and he returns, 
 " Must have left there before it arrived. Which route did the 
 party take for Corsica ? " 
 
 " Their trunks were labeled Nice and Bastia ? " 
 
 " And the steamer leaves Nice ? " 
 
 " To-day, sir, Wednesday ! Five P.M." 
 
 " Then I've missed it ! All right ! " says Barnes. " Order a 
 little dinner for me as soon as possible. I'll be back in a few 
 minutes. No need to take my valise to a room ; I leave by the 
 next train." 
 
 He hurries to the telegraph office and there discovers that no 
 messages whatsoever were sent to him on Monday, Tuesday or 
 Wednesday. Danella had taken his address to make Enid think 
 he was notified, and prevent her sending him a dispatch. He 
 telegraphs Nice and finds the Bastia steamer has already sailed. 
 It is half -past six now. 
 
 The more he meditates upon the affair the less he likes it ; for 
 iis he turns the matter over in his mind, Musso's significant woi-ds 
 to him in Nice flash through his brain : " If we can lure him to 
 Corsica and kill him there, Marina Paoli will be blessed by native 
 jury as the guardian angel of her brother's tomb ! " They illumine 
 and make distinct the outlines of the gloomy problem he has already 
 formed in his mind. 
 
 Danella was using Edwin's love for the girl to entice Anstru 
 *her to Corsica, that, after his murder, his assassin might be safe ! 
 If Marina loved the Englishman, Danella would hate him ;
 
 MB. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 165 
 
 if she did not love him, then she would have no compunctions in 
 slaying the murderer of her brother her creed taught her it was 
 just ! 
 
 Whether she loves Edwin or loves him not, this horrible mar- 
 riage must be stopped, he thinks ; and sends, via the cable to 
 Bastia, the following dispatch : 
 
 "MONACO, May 23rd, 1883. 
 'To Miss Enid Anstruther, 
 
 " On board steamer to arrive from Nice. 
 
 " Delay your brother's marriage by every means in your power 
 till I arrive. I missed you in Nice, but will follow you to Corsica 
 by very earliest possible vessel. If absolutely necessary, as a last 
 resort, show Edwin this telegram and tell him that you know I 
 would not take this stand unless it were vital. 
 
 BURTON H. BARNES." 
 
 This dispatched, he has little time for thought, but bolts a hasty 
 meal and goes down on the train to Nice. He soon discovers there 
 are two more steamer routes open to him ; one from Marseilles to 
 Ajaccio, and the other from Genoa to Bastia, and by diligence to 
 Bocosrnano. He walks down to the harbor and sees a smart-look- 
 ing felucca that has just discharged a load of fruit ; asks the cap- 
 tain a bright Italian sailor in how long he could make the run 
 to Ajaccio. 
 
 " With an ordinary wind, twenty -four hours ; with a fair one 
 perhaps eighteen." 
 
 With reasonable luck, this is considerably quicker than either 
 of the steam lines, whose boats do not leave for several days, will 
 carry him to his destination. 
 
 He makes a bargain with the captain to take him to Corsica, 
 and asks, " When can you sail ? " 
 
 ' To-morrow morning." 
 
 ' No use It must be to-night within the hour ! " 
 
 ' Impossible ! " 
 
 ' Within the half hour and t double your money ! " 
 
 ' I weigh anchor in fifteen minutes ! " cries the captain, and he 
 gets his ragged half-naked crew at work with a will ; replacing 
 one or two who are not within reach by a couple of loiterers on 
 the quay. 
 
 Barnes aids him with all his might, and being something of a 
 yachtsman pushes the crew ahead, so that the little vessel is soon 
 nnder way and heading for Corsica with every sail that will draw 
 expanded to the IL'ht southern breeze. 
 
 " And now," cries Barnes, " if you put me in Ajaccio by Thurs-
 
 166 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 day afternoon, three times the money I promised you, captain, and 
 a doubloon apiece for every man and boy of your crew." 
 
 Inspired by the offer of this man, they called the crazy Ameri- 
 can, the sailors work with a will, and as the sun rises in the morn- 
 ing a faint blue speck is on the horizon that the captain tells him 
 is Corsica. 
 
 " But, as the day comes up, the breeze, that has never been very 
 strong, goes down ; and soon the light vessel rolls upon the lazy 
 swell of an unrippled sea, while the burning Mediterranean sun 
 shines on the white sails that flap against the lateen yards, and the 
 blue speck in the horizon ceases to become larger. 
 
 All that night, Barns has kept his mind on but one thing ; and 
 that was to keep the crew up to their work so as to get every par- 
 ticle of speed that was in the felucca, out of her. 
 
 Now that further exertion for the time is useless, he begins to 
 fear what may be the result of all this last miserable day has 
 brought to him. They are taking Enid's brother to the land of 
 the Vendetta, to murder him ; what fate will come to the sister ? 
 He knows the spirit and courage of his love ; she is no girl to let 
 the brother of her childhood be slain at her side and not do her 
 utmost to save him perchance dying with him or for him ; what 
 if they kill her too ? 
 
 At this sickening thought, his face grows deathly pale ; he trem- 
 bles as he falters to himself, " What if I have seen the last of her 
 bright face ? Could I live without her now ? " and with a groan 
 Barns sinks upon the deck, and gazing with bloodshot eyes at that 
 far off speck of blue upon the shining sea, cries, " OH GOD ! FOR A 
 
 LITTLE BREEZE TO CARRY ME TO CORSICA IN TIME ! "
 
 BOOK V. 
 THE CORSICAN WEDDING. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE HOME OP THE VENDETTA. 
 
 " HEBE ! the land of the Corsican Brothers ; and there, (point- 
 ing to seaward) " the island of Monte Cristo ! I am in the region 
 of romance ! " cries Miss Anstruther as she is assisted on to the 
 quay at Bastia by Danella. " Have you a vendetta of your own 
 every day, Monsieur le Comte ? " 
 
 " Yes ! with breakfast ! " returns that gentleman, giving a viva- 
 cious laugh. 
 
 The voyage has been a pleasant one. The Mediterranean all 
 night has been placid as an inland lake ; the ladies have suffered 
 no pangs of sea-sickness and the bridal party are in the highest 
 spirits, though Danella in appearance is the happiest of them all. 
 
 Enid says to him, "You are so merry, one would think you 
 were to be the bridegroom, Count." 
 
 At this, Musso gives a jovial chuckle, and replies gallantly, 
 " Ah ! yes ! Mademoiselle, if you were to be the bride. Mon Dieu ! 
 if I were the absent Monsieur Barnes." Here he gives a playful 
 groan ; but being reminded by this that he has a little commission 
 to execute, cries, " Anstruther ! take both the ladies on your 
 hands for a minute ! " then as the party have already breakfasted 
 ou board the steamer, and are only waiting while the horses are be- 
 ing put to their carriage, Musso strolls to the little telegraph office 
 catching the clerk just coming out, with a message in his hand. 
 
 " I called," says Danella, " to see if you have received a dispatch 
 for Mademoiselle Enid Anstruther or her brother ? They are of 
 my party who arrived from Nice this morning." 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur le Comte," replies the clerk, for Musso's large 
 possessions on the island cause him to be generally known. " I 
 was just going to try and deliver it. It is for the young lady." 
 
 " Glad to have saved you your trouble, mon ami ! " returns
 
 168 ME. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 
 
 Danella with a smile. As he receives the message he carelessly 
 asks, " Where did this come from ? " 
 "Monte Carlo." 
 
 The Count checks a start of surprise and strolls back mutteriu^ 
 to himself, " Monsieur Barnes has caught a sniff of the scent. 
 Monte Carlo ! If he had stopped in Nice en route from Paris he 
 would have overtaken us. Behold the beauties of an analytical 
 mind ! " He gazes at the telegram, gives a little laugh and go<* 
 on, " Now, he cannot interfere till they are married ! And then 
 Voila, tout estjini." 
 
 Every preparation has been thoroughly made in advance by tln> 
 Count. Fresh horses await the party at the post stations, an<! 
 their journey through the beautiful scenery of the lovely ami 
 romantic island that, in May, is at its best and brightest is ; 
 rapid and easy one. 
 
 The baggage of the party follows in a wagon ; upon the front 
 seat of which sits old Tomasso, with the same quiet, sleepy smile 
 on his uncompromising blood-hound face that it has worn ever 
 since Danella came to Monte Carlo. Beside him lies the valise 
 marked " G. A." For some unknown reason, he seems, perhaps 
 because the Count has requested him, to have taken a great regard 
 for this dirty old piece of luggage ; for, throughout the whole 
 journey, his eyes rests upon it ; and he carries it in person to thf 
 steamboat at Nice, and off again at Bastia. 
 
 All that day, Musso, who is in wonderful spirits, at her request, 
 keeps Miss Anstruther's eyes large with wonder at the wild tales 
 he tells of Corsican love of family and hate of those who wronir 
 their kindred. A little after they have passed Corte, he points 
 out to her a house nestled in a vineyard upon the hillside and 
 shaded by a few olive trees. 
 
 " Why ! It looks like a prison ! " cries Enid. 
 
 "Yes," says the Count, " for fifteen years the proprietor of it. 
 one Bel Messere, made it his fortress and left it neither by d;i\ 
 nor by night ; for Orso della Eocca had sworn against his life -.> 
 vendetta. On the first day of the sixteenth year, Messere ven 
 tured outfrom.it, and within the hour was'brought back a de;u ; 
 man. True Corsicans never forget their vows of vengence." H<- 
 looks at Marina who sits opposite to him, but her eyes cannot 
 meet his, and she steals her hand into Anstruther's as if to claim 
 his sympathy and protection. 
 
 u What do you tell such frightful stories for, Musso ? " says 
 that gentleman. " Don't you see you are frightening the 
 girls?" 
 
 " Oh ! I think they're lovely ! " replies Enid. " The peopif 
 here must be quite like the cowboys Burton tells me about iu
 
 MR. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 165> 
 
 Texas. A wild murder seems so romantic ; you forget its horror 
 in its picturesqueness." 
 
 "Perhaps if you had seen one, you might forget, the pictur- 
 esqueness in the horror," remarks her brother, shortly. 
 
 At Vivario the party take dinner ; and, as the ladies get into 
 their carriage again, some peasant girls throw flowers upon them, 
 for it has become known that one of the Paolis has returned to be 
 married from the home of her fathers. From this time on their 
 drive is often interrupted by similar offerings ; though, curiously 
 . enough, Marina seems uneasy under the ceremonies and appears 
 to rather shrink from and dread meeting her country people. 
 
 Once two young women, passing them on the road, say some- 
 thing to each other in Corsican patois, at which the girl turns 
 pale. 
 
 Enid, rather, curiously asks what the peasants said as they 
 looked towards the carriage. 
 
 Musso laughing, replies, " Some old-fashioned maxim that makes 
 a bride blush ; these Corsicans have the manners of England in 
 i he time of Smollet." 
 
 "Then you needn't translate !" cries Miss Anstruther, giving 
 a blush herself, for she has read Mr. Smollet in the old family 
 library at Beechwood. 
 
 The Count's remark would appear to be true, as Marina does 
 not contradict it but hangs her head as if she were ashamed. Her 
 ryes have a look of anguish in them. 
 
 Anstruther would have possibly noticed this, but that gentle- 
 man is now seated with the driver, enjoying the scenery, and 
 iiaving discovered that Corsica is a wonderful place for game, is 
 planning a trip with his bride to her estates the coming winter ; 
 where he imagines he can do a little moufflon stalking and part- 
 ridge shooting, and perhaps spear a wild boar or two in the forests 
 of Calvi. 
 
 Nothing more of any great note occurs. Marina appears to 
 have regained her spirits as they drive through the great larch 
 forest of Vizzavona, and in the early evening descending the 
 beech-covered slopes of del Oro, enter the great chestnut woods. 
 
 Musso cries, " Bocognano at last ! See, there is my house upon 
 the hill. It is comparatively modern ; I built it myself," and he- 
 points to a stone mansion that is but one storey in height, after 
 the manner of all Corsican country dwellings, but otherwise fol- 
 lows the modern French style of architecture. "You all dine 
 with me," he continues, " and afterwards I take you ladies to 
 Marina's home which, like its mistress, is all Corsican. It is a 
 little further down the mountain and has a lovely view of the 
 Gravona torrent."
 
 170 MR. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 
 
 In a few minutes they drive up to Danella's country seat, the 
 windows of which blaze with light in welcome. Every prepara- 
 tion has been made to receive them. Over the dinner Musso tells 
 them his plans for the morrow. Anstruther in true native style 
 is to carry the bride away with the old-fashioned cavalcade to the 
 church, and afterwards bring her back to the count's house, which 
 he is to use as his own. " And I think to-morrow," concludes 
 Musso, " that, Mademoiselle Enid, we will be able to show you 
 something you have never witnessed before a true Corsican wed- 
 ding, at which we hope to see a true Corsican bride," with this the 
 Count gallantly fills his glass and drinks to Marina. 
 
 The young girl says nothing in reply to this ; in fact, since 
 Marina has arrived at Bocognano, she has appeared to be depressed 
 and gloomy, and to have lost all her bright vivaciousness of the 
 early part of the day. 
 
 Enid, however, who has spirits for two, answers for her, " The 
 bride will be all Corsican, but wait until you see the bridesmaid's 
 costume, M. Danella ; if I am not all Corsican to-morrow, there's 
 nothing in a dressmaker. Oh, how I wish Mr. Barnes were here ! " 
 
 " Yes ! " cries Anstruther in great spirits. " Then we could 
 have two weddings at once, eh, Enid ? " 
 
 Miss Anstruther makes no direct reply to this, but asks the 
 Count, "Don't you -think it curious he never answered your tele- 
 gram inviting him to the wedding ? " 
 
 " A little," says Musso slowly, " though Mr. Barnes may be on 
 his way to Corsica now." 
 
 ' But if so, he missed the steamer at Nice and will be too late ! " 
 
 " Undoubtedly too late ! " 
 
 " Nonsense, Enid. Barnes is too busy fixing his business for his 
 own wedding to think of one else's ! " cries Anstruther. " Musso, 
 come over to England a month from now ; .be my guest there as I 
 am your's here ; and I'll show you one of our old country marriages 
 from the little church at Beechwood with a very pretty bride," 
 here he looks at Enid, " and the loveliest lady of the manor in all 
 Britain to preside at the wedding breakfast." He emphasizes the 
 last portion of the speech with such a tender, loyal, loving gaze 
 at his bride of the morrow, that Marina forgets her melancholy 
 in blushes and happiness, and Danella, who has his glass at his 
 lips, grinds his goblet beneath his white teeth. 
 
 The dinner is not prolonged, as the ladies are tired and have 
 still a short drive to Marina's home. 
 
 Before they leave, the Coant takes his ward aside, saying to her 
 hurriedly, " My steward has been to your house. Have no anxiety. 
 No one will make you unhappy by taunting you for forgetting 
 that vmir brothor's murderer lives."
 
 MB. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 171 
 
 The girl answers this by a sigh, but presses his hand. 
 
 As Edwin puts Marina and Enid in the carriage, the waggon 
 with the luggage drives up. 
 
 " Place Anstruther's trunks in my house," says the Count 
 quickly. " The rest follows the ladies," and, as he drives them 
 away, Musso looks with a sardonic grin at Edwin standing on the 
 portico of the mansion smoking his cigar in the moonlight, and old 
 Tomasso who is carrying the little valise marked " G. A." up the 
 steps into the hall. 
 
 During their short journey, Danella, who is in high feather, 
 keeps Enid in a running strain of laughter, and even draws, at 
 times a sad smile from Marina, whose spirits do not seem to rise 
 as she comes near the home of her family. 
 
 As they drive up the great avenue leading to her house, the girl 
 hangs her head and mutters to herself, " Ashamed to meet my old 
 servants." 
 
 After lifting the ladies from the carriage, and crying to Marina, 
 " Don't be downhearted, Ma belle ; to-morrow the bridegroom 
 cometh ! To-morrow we will take you after the manner of Corsica 
 to Monsieur Anstruther. To-morrow ! To-morrow ! " the Count 
 drives off into the darkness singing a little song with a laughing 
 refrain. 
 
 The two young ladies are received very respectfully by the 
 retainers of the Paoli family ; though they hardly display the 
 affection with which Enid had imagined they would greet their 
 young mistress on her return from a long absence, and upon such 
 an occasion. 
 
 They are all dressed in Corsican costumes, and light the ladies 
 in with flaming pine torches, making quite a romantic and medi- 
 eval effect. 
 
 " "What an antique ceremony, ' remarks Miss Anstruther, warm- 
 ing her hands before th- burning logs upon the open hearth of the 
 parlor of the house, and gazing about the low studded room with 
 its small windows protected by curious iron gratings. 
 
 Marina, standing out of the light, is tapping her foot impatiently 
 on the oak floor, her lips are quivering, there are tears in her eyes. 
 She is thinking, "Not one man kissed my hand and bade me wel- 
 come; not one woman placed her lips on my forehead, And my 
 foster-mother, she came not to embrace me. My Heavens ! they 
 are trying to break my heart." 
 
 Enid, too much occupied with her novel surroundings to notice 
 her companion's agitation, suddenly ejaculates, " Oh ! what a lovely 
 picture ! " pointing to the painting Barnes had seen on his visit 
 to the house, " Why, it's you, dear ! You'll look like that to- 
 Hoi-row ! Waiting! How appropriate! Waiting for Edwin.'
 
 172 MR. BARNES OF NEW YOitK. 
 
 : ' No ! " cries Marina, " Waiting for my dear brother. I can't 
 bear it. I had forgotten it was here. Look at it no more," and 
 she puils over it the curtains that drape the picture, hiding it from 
 view. Then she gazes pathetically at Enid and says, " Some day. 
 in England, far away from the memory of him, I will tell you 
 Antonio's story ; to-night you will excuse me, dear one ; you are- 
 tired ; shall I show you your room ? I I must rest myself ; your 
 brother's bride to-morrow must look worthy of him." 
 
 As the journey has been a long one, Miss Anstruther admits 
 she is fatigued. Marina in person conducts her to her chamber, 
 with several little graceful acts of hospitality peculiar to the 
 island ; then kissing her, whispers, " My sister ! Pray that I 
 may make your brother happy ! " 
 
 The girls part with a tender embrace ; and, leaving Enid,. 
 Marina comes to her own room. She has controlled herself 
 before her guest, but now she begins to rage and her eyes fill 
 with tears of shame and anger. " The miserable ones ! " she 
 cries, " to dare insult me, their mistress, on my own threshold/' 
 She rings a hand bell, which is answered by Tomasso, who has 
 just arrived with the ladies' trunks from Danella's. 
 
 " Isola, your wife and my foster-mother, why was she not here 
 to welcome me, and take me in her arms, as she always did 
 before ? " demands the girl very haughtily, but with a sob in her 
 voice. " I no loriger care for affection from those who are un- 
 grateful ; but, for my bread and my hire, I demand service ; send 
 your wife to me to act as my maid." 
 
 The old man looks sadly and reproachfully at her as he replies, 
 " That is impossible ! Isola heard you were to wed one of 
 the race who killed him. She nursed Antonio at her breast ; 
 and so went to the mountains that she might not say words to 
 you that would make you unhappy. Signer Danella has sent a 
 French girl over to take her place shall I send her to you ? " 
 
 During this speech Marina has become very pale ; she cries, 
 " Send me no one ! And look no more on my face until you 
 remember that though you are my foster-father, I am your 
 mistress." But after he has gone and she is alone, she moans 
 to herself, " My foster-mother will not bless me on my wedding 
 day fled from my home because I have forgotten my vow. 
 Antonio speaks to me through them. The home where we played 
 together as children, cries, ' You forget his wrongs ! You, ;\ 
 Paoli 1 You are not even a Corsican ' ! " 
 
 Then this girl, who is now again among associations that teach 
 her revenge is noble, throws herself down by her bedside and 
 sobs as if her heart were breaking, upon this night before the day 
 that should be to her the happiest upon earth.
 
 MR. BAKNES OF NEW YORK 173 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 TO-NIGHT I AM A CORSICAN. 
 
 THE sun is well up in the heavens when next morning, Miss 
 Anstruther, after an exquisite little yawn $>r two, finds she has 
 been awakened by Marina's kisses. 
 
 " Bride's kisses ! " she murmurs and then ejaculates, " Ah ! 
 How perfect ! How divine ! " 
 
 For Marina is already in her bridal costume and looks a picture 
 of blushing joy. Save the myrtle flowers that shade her heaving 
 breast, everything about her dress is white, but Corsican ; the 
 graceful mandile ornamenting her dark hair, and the faldetta 
 drapingJier beautiful figure. 
 
 " Quick ! Enid ! " cries the bride. " No more sleep to-day ! 
 llosita will put your native costume upon you and make you a 
 Corsican like me. Hurry ! my bridesmaid, if you love me. I 
 go now to receive Danella ; during the ceremony he acts as my 
 father." And she runs excitedly to the portico. 
 
 A few minutes after Rosita comes to Marina, laughs and says, 
 'The English young lady wishes to see you." 
 
 She darts to her, and finding Enid not yet dressed, asks, 
 " What's the matter ? " 
 
 " Matter ! " cries the English girl ; " despair's the matter ! I've 
 used twenty hair-pins and look at my mandile" 
 
 " Of course. No one but a native can arrange that," laughs 
 Marina ; she seizes Enid, and her dextrous hands soon put the 
 finishing touches to that young lady's toilet. " Now ! " she cries, 
 loading her to a mirror, " behold a Corsican ! " 
 
 " O ! ah ! " says Enid. " I wonder if my dressmaker didn't 
 think it was for a fancy ball it's it's so awfully short." 
 
 " Not at all," answers Marina " no shorter than mine and 
 in it you are a fairy." 
 
 " Y-e-s,' it is becoming," murmurs Enid, taking a meditative 
 blushing glance at herself. " To tell you the truth it's wonder- 
 fully fetching ; when you're in Corsica do as the Corsicans do. 
 All the same, I feel as if I were a ballet girl." 
 
 " Then come to breakfast or the ballet will begin without you," 
 laughs Marina, carrying Enid ofi', who thinks to herself how Burton 
 would admire her in the dress, and makes up her mind it would 
 be j:TSt the costume for an English fancy ball.
 
 174 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 Half an hour afterwards, Enid runs into Marina's room 
 crying, " Here's Fra Diavolo himself ! " and drags her to the 
 portico; where they see the Count just riding up, dressed in full 
 Corsicau costume, an eagle's feather in his hat. He is followed 
 by several young native gentlemen in the gala dress of the island. 
 They are introduced to Enid ; and one, a dark-eyed, strong-limbed 
 young man, who is to make the address to the bride, places his 
 bright eyes upon Miss Anstruther with an apparent wish to take 
 the place of the absent Barnes. 
 
 But he has littlf .time for this, as very shortly after thoir 
 arrival a great shouting is heard ; and a band of goat-herds from 
 the Count's estates on the Monte Rotondo, clad in skins and 
 armed with double-barrel guns, come up the avenue, followed by 
 half the peasants of the village of Bocognano, to escort the bride 
 bo the house of her husband. For the Count, in order that the 
 ceremony may be conducted in true Corsican form, has placed his 
 mansion for the day in possession of the bridegroom. 
 
 A couple of Corsican horses, with bridles and saddles gaily 
 decked with myrtle and ribbons, are led out for the young ladies 
 to ride. 
 
 But before the bride is permitted to depart from her home, 
 every one gathers about her to hear the farewell address ; that, 
 according to ancient custom, the young cavalier who acts as 
 bridesman makes Marina upon her leaving her native commune. 
 
 He has been a boyhood friend of her brother, and perhaps a 
 youthful admirer of the girl ; and stands before the last of the 
 Paolis conscious of the honor, to make his speech in rough, native 
 eloquence. There is a certain haughty uncultured grace about the 
 youngiellow that commands attention, and though Enid does not 
 understand his words, she watches his fervid, vivacious southern 
 gesticulation with an interest that gradually becomes intense as 
 she sees its tremendous effect upon his hearers. 
 
 The peasants, who have been laughing and jabb~'ng to each 
 other in their excitable Latin way, become suddenly silent, ^hen 
 look very sad ; and, as he goes on, some of the girls and women 
 cry. Danella has a sneer upon his lips when the young man com- 
 mences, but it changes to a smile of triumph. 
 
 Marina looks at the orator for a moment in haughty surprise 
 a great blush covering her face then, the red becomes white ; 
 she hangs her head as if she could not look this man, who is 
 speaking to her, in the face ; her hands involuntarily clench 
 themselves, her limbs tremble, and her heart beats as if torn by 
 some mighty emotion. 
 
 At this, the young man makes a little pause ; then takes a 
 stride that brings him straight before her ; and, catching her eye,
 
 III?. BAUXE8 OF NEW YOKK. 173 
 
 i;i;s one short sentence, his voice ringing out in native patois 
 like a clarion his eyes flaming with excitement. 
 
 The effect is electrical ; the crowd give a wild scream that Enid 
 thinks is more that of rage and hate than applause ; and Marina 
 sinks back with a plaintive cry upon the breast of Tomasso, who 
 stands behind his young mistress, and strives to comfort her in his 
 old-fashioned way but with a very wicked look on his mediaeval 
 face. 
 
 "What did he say to Marina 1 " whispers Enid to the Count. 
 
 " Oh ! a farewell to home ! An old Corsican custom ! " 
 
 " Yes, but what made her so agitated 1 " 
 
 " Oh ah, well we are a primitive race, not yet refined ; and in 
 fact you remember what I said to you yesterday, Mademoiselle 
 Enid, about your old fashioned novelist his speech had a flavor 
 if the grand Smollet ! " 
 
 " Oh ! the wretch ! " cries Miss Anstruther. getting red in the 
 face. 
 
 Musso leaves her, and taking the orator aside seizes his hand, 
 uid says, giving him a -warm grip, "Bernardo, your address on 
 rhe idea I suggested to you was a marvel of eloquence some day 
 F hope to hear you at Paris as a Corsican deputy in the Corps 
 Legislative ! " 
 
 In truth, Signor Bernardo Saliceti had seen a great chance in 
 
 his matter to make a sensation ; and, like most untutored, genial, 
 
 andid young speakers, he has done so with a vengeance. The 
 
 ubstance of this last words being nearly as follows, minus the 
 
 beautiful soft southern patois that made half their romance. 
 
 " Marina ! when you are gone., none of your loved race will be 
 left to us, save the body of your dear brother, whom we will not 
 bury, until he is avenged. I, standing in his place, speak for him. 
 They tell me that you, his sister, have forgotten his wrongs. An- 
 tonio's spirit cries through me. ' It is a lie ! Marina marries into 
 the nation who have slain me, that one day she may get within 
 dagger's reach of my assassin.' In that hope, we kiss your hand 
 and do you honor, daughter of the Paolis." 
 
 The effect of this upon the girl's mind is terrible. Though she 
 forces herself to become calm again, all through that day, when- 
 ever Corsican men do her homage or Corsican girls kiss her hand 
 or look kindly on her, or make her any little compliment common 
 on such occasions to a bride, she thinks, " They do this, not because 
 I wed, but because they hope some day I will kill." 
 
 After a little, the Count distributes among the villagers gifts of 
 money as a souvenir[for the commune, and whispering to Marina, 
 " Anstruther will be" impatient for you," places the bride in her 
 saddle ; the same office being done for Enid by young Signor Ber-
 
 17G MH. UAUNES OP NEW YOIIK. 
 
 nardo, who struts proudly about feeling that he has distinguish* <! 
 himself, and unmindful of the scornful glance the English beauty 
 gives him, for Miss Anstruther has not forgiven him the addrr>s> 
 a la Smollet she supposes he has made to the bride. 
 
 The wedding procession is soon formed in ancient Corsic., 
 style; a spinning-wheel made gay with flowers and ribbons, tin- 
 emblem of a fruitful marriage, being borne before the bride ; am 
 with great tiring of guns from the men, and throwing of rice, 
 flowers, fruits and wheaten spears from the women, they go off 01 
 the dusty road, along the little village street, under a great arcl. 
 of evergreens, brightened with flowers and festooned with gaud} 
 ribbons. And so with mandolins thumbing at their head the\ 
 finally come up to the avenue of olive trees that brings them t<> 
 the Count's great house on the hill-side, where a number of coun 
 try magnates are gathered with the bridegroom, awaiting the coiii 
 ing of the bride. 
 
 Unmindful of local etiquette, which in this island sentences th 
 bridegroom to be bashful, Anstruther, the moment he sees Marin;< 
 springs down the steps and seizing her in his arms kisses her befoi < 
 the concourse and calls her his wife so tenderly, that the girl foi 
 gets everything in her happiness at the thought that now the\ 
 need part no more. 
 
 Then he stands by her side, his simple English naval uniform i i , 
 marked contrast to the picturesque native costumes about him 
 every now and then saying a merry word to Enid or Marina -A< 
 the usual speeches are made ; the Count demanding, in their quaint 
 ancient way, of the bridesman : If he and his companions are Un- 
 accepted escort of the gentle lady that they bring with them to 
 his house. 
 
 Signer Bernardo, answering for himself and his following, 
 declares that they are friends of the beautiful Marina, and have 
 escorted her from affection to present her as the flower of Bocog- 
 nano to a noble English gentleman as his spouse ; and that they 
 are all good and true men, and no enemies, as they fire their guns 
 with no bullets in them. 
 
 The Count being finally persuaded that they are not bandits, 
 invites Bernardo and his companions to the wedding festivities ; 
 and after this the whole concourse go to the little stone chapel in 
 the hamlet, where Marina Paoli becomes the wife of Edwin An- 
 struther, promising to love him and do him honor, after the ritual 
 of the Holy Roman Church. 
 
 A great joy is in the girl's eyes ; within her heart the supreme 
 happiness of true love hallowed by honorable marriage with the 
 object of her passion. 
 
 As Gerard takes her in his arms for the first time as his wife.
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 177 
 
 Danella staggers out of the church, and wiping the damp of agony 
 from his brow, mutters to himself, " Thank God, a man's heart can 
 break but once ! " A moment after he raises his face with a smile 
 of cynical triumph upon it, and cries, " Apres la noce ! " for he 
 sees before him rise up the vision of a supreme vengeance upon 
 this man and woman who make him suffer. 
 
 Outside, under the shade of some olive trees, the music of the 
 happy but solemn Benedicte floating round him from the open 
 doors and windows of the church, sits old Tomasso a picture of 
 despair. 
 
 " She has gone from us Marina is now English ! " he mutters 
 to the Count. 
 
 " Her name is no more Paoli," says Danella. " Tomasso, to- 
 night, when the guests leave us come to me, I have an honor for 
 you ; you shall arrange the bridal chamber." 
 
 The old man answers this with a nod of his head; he cannot speak, 
 being chocked by sobs, the tears streaming down his wrinkled 
 cheeks, for he regards this wedding, by which his young mistress 
 becomes a compatriot with the accursed being who has slain 
 her brother and his foster-son, as a funeral of their family 
 honor. 
 
 " Come ! " cries Danella. " Come in and kiss your new master's 
 hand, Tomasso ! " 
 
 " Maladicta, ! " murmurs the old retainer, but he does as he is 
 told and does homage to both bride and groom ; though there is a 
 snarl on his face, for he is still a blood-hound under lash and whip, 
 and as yet has not seen his prey. 
 
 "Musso, you haven't kissed the bride!" cries Anstruther, 
 looking very tenderly at the blushing creature who is clinging to 
 his arm. 
 
 " All in good time," says the Count merrily ; " I never fail to 
 collect my fees from beauty," and he goes up and salutes Marina 
 quite ardently, though she wonders why his lips are like ice, and 
 starts as she feels two burning tears fall upon her cheeks. But 
 for all that Musso Danella does not repent. 
 
 And, this being over, and the various legal documents being 
 signed both by priest and notary, the crowd goes back again with 
 more firing of guns, and music, and shouting, to the Count's great 
 house, where the banquet is spread for all commers ; and that 
 being finished, with much drinking of wine, and speeches of con- 
 gratulation and joyous laughter Musso's laugh being loudest of 
 them all the ball begins, at which the youths and maidens per- 
 form the tarantella, marsiliana and other national dances, to the 
 music of the mandoline and citera. 
 
 Then, just after the evening has grown dark, the guests with 
 (12)
 
 178 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 many little peculiar Corsican customs wish the bridal couple good 
 luck and happy union, and depart along the hill-paths and through 
 the olive and chestnut woods to their homes, as the fires of 
 good omen are lighted on the summits of the neighboring moun 
 tains. 
 
 Looking at this, Miss Anstruther says to her brother, " To-day 
 has been to me like a Roman carnival." 
 
 "Theatrical, wasn't it ! " replies Edwin. " But I've got her 
 she is mine and that's enough for my earthly happiness," and he 
 gives a very proud and a very fond glance at Marina, who, at a 
 little distance from him, on the great portico that fronts the house, 
 is holding consultation with Danella. " However, since you like 
 romantic effects, Enid, we'll have all the yokels at Beechwood 
 dressed up as American cowboys and backwoodsmen to follow Mr. 
 Barnes and you to church next month, in dear old Hampshire ; 
 and may you be as happy and fortunate as I." 
 
 " Fancy Diggs, the sexton's astonishment at cowboys coming up 
 the aisle," laughs Miss Anstruther. " Your idea is worthy of con 
 sideration." 
 
 Here Marina turns from the Count with a pleased smile on 
 her face, crying, "Musso, you remember everything," and coming 
 to her husband says, " Gerard, a favor ! " 
 
 " The first one you have asked me, as " 
 
 " As the lord of my life ! Is it granted, Luce d^ esistenza mia ? " 
 giving him a pretty Italian love name and a little laugh at th< 
 same moment. 
 
 " Of course ! " 
 
 " Yery well. This morning, I was thinking so much about you, 
 I forgot to give this to my old servants at my home. ' She hold 
 up a little purse filled with gold. " Monsieur Danella, who i 
 always thoughtful, suggests that you, my Gerard, ride down thi 
 evening and in my name present it to them. As their new mnstt 
 it is an act that will endear you to them ! " 
 
 " All right ! To-morrow, darling ! " says Edwin. 
 
 "To-morrow! Have you forgotten the excursion with you: 
 bride to the forest of Vizzavona 1 " cries the Count, coming i ... 
 them. 
 
 " It will be more appropriate to-night, Gerard, and I want them 
 to love you ! Don't be afraid, when you return I will not have 
 fled from you Mi adorato ! " says the bride with a bashful but 
 longing look in her dark eyes. 
 
 " Here is your horse I've ordered brought round for you. My 
 steward will accompany you ; he knows the way, and also how- 
 much should be given to each of Marina's household," continues the 
 Count rapidly and earnestly. Then he draws Edwin a little aside ;
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 179 
 
 and goes on with a peculiar ring in the voice, " I have placed the 
 left wing of my house at the disposal of you and your bride 
 when you return, may you be happy ! Don't forget Danella's 
 wish was, may you be happy ! " 
 
 " God bless you, Musso, for all you have dono for me ! " cries 
 Edwin .seizing his hand and giving it a hearty -rasp ; but after 
 drawing his fingers from Danella's he finds them cold and clammy 
 from the moisture of intense nervous agitation that covers the 
 Count's hand. 
 
 " Don't thank me ! I beg you, do not thank me ! " mutters 
 Musso ; and he murmurs to himself as he watches Edwin ride 
 down the olive tree avenue " You are a nice boy ! What a 
 cursed pity ! But nice boys musn't break Musso's heart if they 
 do, Musso is a tiger ! " Then he cries aloud, " Marina ! How- 
 did you feel to-day when looking 011 the customs of your native 
 land, when surrounded, as in other days, by Corsicans?" 
 
 " That I too was a Corsican ! " answers the bride proudly, a 
 flash of light coming into her gleaming orbs that makes them glow 
 and glitter in 'he moonlight. 
 
 Every local ceremony, every little ancient custom, the native 
 color he has given to this bridal of the girl, surrounded by the 
 friends and playmates of her youth, amid the romance, traditions 
 and scenery of her own dear island all have been planned by 
 Danella's occult mind to produce one effect. What Enid likens to 
 a Roman carnival, what Enid calls theatrical, inspires his bride 
 with the great passions of her race, love of family and untiring 
 vengeance- for the wrongs of kindred. As Musso looks at her 
 face in the moonlight, he knows that his object is attained ; 
 to-night Marina Anstruther is gain a Corsican. 
 
 The time is ripe. He walks into the house and says to Tomasso 
 who awaits him, " You had better place your master's baggage in 
 the apartment set aside for him." In doing this the old man 
 carries in the valise marked " G. A.," that the Count has looked 
 upon witn so much love, 
 
 As Tomassp arranges the other articles belonging to Anstruther 
 in the rooms, Danella, attempting to place this valise upon a 
 bureau, by apparent accident, lets it drop upon the floor. It is 
 old and weak, its fastenings give way and its contents fly out and 
 scatter about the room. 
 
 " I am an awkward chap, old Tomasso ! " cries the Count. " Help 
 me to pick up Monsieur Anstruther's valuables." 
 
 Tomasso stoops to do so, but has not placed his hand upon 
 more than one or two of the things when he pauses, starts, utters 
 a horrible but suppressed cry, and gazes with a face quivering 
 with intense emotion at what he holds in his hand. He springs up,
 
 180 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK 
 
 shoves it before Danella's eyes and mutters, " Tell me what this 
 means ? " 
 
 " Not till I have read what this reveals to me," says MUS.SO 
 with a very grave face, gloating over a manuscript that he has 
 taken from the trunk. " My Heaven, if this is true ! " 
 
 " You think it possible ? " gasps Tomasso. 
 
 " Wait ! " 
 
 " Keep your promise ! " 
 
 " Wait ! " 
 
 "Keep your promise you made me on the Virgin ! " hisses the 
 Corsican. 
 
 "I never break my word," returns the Count. " I once made 
 covenant with you, my sturdy old hater, that when discovered 
 
 " To give to me the name of the accursed murderer of my foster- 
 son I see by your face you know it now." 
 
 " Not to-night ! To-night would be too horrible ! " 
 
 " Now ! or I will have your blood also ! " snarls the old man in 
 a menacing whisper. 
 
 " Listen ! " says the Count, and in a low voice he begins to 
 translate into Corsican the writing he has taken from the valise, 
 and to produce certain articles from the trunk of Gerard Anstru- 
 ther and to place them side by side with one or two things he 
 selects from Marina's baggage, and as he does so, the eyes of old 
 Tomasso, like a blood-hound that sees before him his prey, grow 
 red and shining. 
 
 As this is going on, the two girls sit on the portico 'looking at 
 the shadows of the great mountains, made by the rising moon, 
 that darken the white river of the Gravona which rushes between 
 them to the tropical sea, and talk in low, happy voices of this day 
 that has made one of them a bride. 
 
 Enid, as she gazes on this scene filled with southern romance 
 and thinks of the fete that to-day with its mediaeval eflects and 
 color has carried her back to the feudal ages, whispers, " To-night. 
 I wonder is there an England ? It seems so far away." 
 
 "To-night, pray that we go there soon ! " cries Marina with an 
 entreaty almost piteous in her voice. " Pray that I stay not here 
 in this my native island ! Pray for your brother's sake ; pray that 
 I stay not here ! " 
 
 Enid looks at her astonished ; but at this instant the Count 
 comes out on the portico, and with a face that is palid and a 
 voice that in spite of himself trembles, not from fear, but from 
 triumph, says, " Madame Anstruther, your apartments are at 
 last prepared for you they have just been furnished from Paris, 
 and are worthy a bride. You will find them in the left wing."
 
 MiC. HAKNES OP NEW YORK. 181 
 
 Marina looks down the avenue and murmurs, " My husband 
 will be returning. Kiss your sister, Enid, my own one, good 
 night ! " 
 
 As they kiss, the English girl whispers, " What did you mean 
 by those curious words 1 " 
 
 " Mean ! " cries Marina proudly, " I mean that to-night I am 
 a Corsican, and long for revenge." 
 
 Then breaking away from Enid's arms, she flies into the house 
 and along the great corridor. Enid springs after her, but, reach- 
 ing the door of her apai'tment, the bride turns as if at bay. The 
 light from out the nuptial chamber haloing her beauty, as with 
 one bare, white, dazzling arm raised up as if to warn her friend 
 away, and the other draping the faldetta of shimmering satin 
 about her girlish figure, she stands like the Peri at the gate of 
 Paradise ; her face, an angel's, purified of all the passions of this 
 earth, save one which keeps the door of Heaven forever closed 
 against her. 
 
 She cries, "Ask me no more, dear Enid ! Again, good night ! " 
 throws a light kiss with her hand, and, passing in, the curtains 
 fall behind her. 
 
 The Count is looking on ; his face has a cynical smile, though a 
 moment before as he gazed on Marina's loveliness, his eyes were 
 full of burning tears, and his hands were twitching from unutter- 
 able misery. He says, " Mademoiselle Anstruther, we Corsicans 
 are a curious race." 
 
 "So I should imagine!" replies Enid with a little laugh, 
 though there is a perplexed look upon her face. 
 
 "Ah!" grins Musso, "you judge us by Marina; but Marina 
 is a bride, and brides are are peculiar. "What would you 
 think, my near Mademoiselle Enid, if I, inspired by this moon- 
 light, became romantic and said to you I loved you ? " 
 
 " I should think it was time to go to bed ! " replies Enid, some- 
 what puzzled and a little haughty. 
 
 " Precisely ! " murmurs the Count who has got the answer he 
 wanted ; " will you permit my housekeeper to show you to your 
 apartments, they are in the right wing." He rings the bell. 
 
 " Thanks ! certainly ! " replies the English girl. " Good 
 night ! " 
 
 " Good night ! " bows the Count ; and, as he turns away, he 
 wonders, " How will she look when I say to her, ' good morning!'" 
 
 As Enid follows the servant to her room, she sees Danella 
 wander out on the portico, peering longingly down the avenue, 
 and notices with a shudder, that in the moonlight, his eyes shine 
 like those of a tiger lurking at night for his prey.
 
 182 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 .* 
 
 It is noon upon the day of the wedding, before the felucca upon 
 which Barnes has sailed for Corsica, makes the headlands of the 
 gulf of Ajaccio, and nearly two hours afterwards, before he lands 
 upon the little quay ; though captain and crew have all done their 
 duty like men ; for these hardy Italian sailors, half fishermen, 
 half coasters, began to pity, in their rough way, this man who 
 became more haggard and more careworn each hour that calms or 
 adverse winds kept him from the port he fought so hard to reach, 
 and therefore never shirked a pull at sheet or rope that might 
 give greater speed or better pointing to their little vessel. And 
 so, notwithstanding adverse weather, at two o'clock on the day of 
 Marina's nuptials, which is earlier by twenty hours than the 
 ^steamer from Marsellies which leaves that morning from the 
 French port, would put him there, Mr. Barnes stands in de 
 Belloc's little office in the garrison of Ajaccio. 
 
 At first, the officer does not recognize him ; and, after he rr>en- 
 tions his name, cries out, " Mon Dieu ! What has happened to 
 you, my friend?" for Barnes' appearance is careworn, his face 
 haggard and unshaved, and his clothes damp with the salt water 
 of his sea voyage. 
 
 As he tells his story, Captain de Belloc gives a low whistle of 
 astonishment, then his face grows long. He summons a sergeant 
 and gives some orders hurriedly, and when Barnes has finished, 
 says, " You had better have a file or two of soldiers with you ; it 
 may be a matter that will require the police or military ! I am 
 in command here and will myself go with you ! " 
 
 " What I was about to request," replies Barnes ; " You saw the 
 duel ; and, as her brother's second, can tell Marina it was an equal 
 and fair combat. But I have already sent on an express ahead 
 of me for horses, and your men will not be able to keep up with 
 my fresh mounts ! " 
 
 " Very well ! " says de Belloc, " I'll follow are you armed ? " 
 
 " No ! I intended to procure weapons after I had seen you." 
 
 " Permit me to arrange that matter," returns the officer. He 
 
 goes out ; comes back with a couple of revolvers and hands them 
 
 to the American, saying, " I wouldn't care to be our friend Da- 
 
 nella, if you think it necessary to shoot at him. But you are 
 
 anxious to get on your way I'll be not far behind ; so au revoir ! " 
 
 As Barnes rides out of the town he hears the cavalry bugles 
 
 sounding, " Boot and saddle." He passes quickly on, over the 
 
 Bastia road, leaving to his right the little inn of II Pescatori, 
 
 where a year ago took place the duel that causes such wretched 
 
 misery now ; and, sparing neither his horse nor himself, rides 
 
 desperately up the valley of the Giavona, upon whose banks high 
 
 in the hills just under the shadow of del Oro, the woman he loves
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 183 
 
 is ; perhaps needing his aid to save herself or her brother from 
 cruel assassination. As this thought comes to him, he drives the 
 rowels deeper into his steed. And, in the evening, seeing the 
 nuptial fires upon the hills, he knows that Edwin and Marina are 
 now one, and mutters to himself, " Am I too late ? " Soon after, 
 meeting some peasants on the road returning from the fete, he 
 learns that the wedding party are all at Danella's. And so it 
 comes to pass about ten minutes before Anstruther returns to the 
 Count's house, Barnes rides up the avenue of olive trees, and 
 pauses in the shadow of the mansion. 
 
 There are no lights in the front windows, but the American, 
 having spent some days with the Count at this country seat on 
 his first visit to'the island, knows that all the sleeping apartments 
 of the house are at the back. He hesitates now to arouse the 
 household, as he fears his unexpected coining in this desperate way 
 may percipitate the catastrophe, or bring about some unforeseen 
 complication that he cannot combat until he learns the present 
 details of this awful social problem. Not for one instant, however, 
 does he think that all is right, for he never forgets Danella's 
 words : "Lure him to Corsica ! " 
 
 As he meditates he is dismounting and tying his horse to one 
 of the trees in the shade just a little out of the avenue. A thought 
 comes to him- -he will pass to the back of the house, there he may 
 find some domestic who remembers him for the American had 
 been very popular with the Count's household on his former visit 
 and so gain entrance and knowledge. 
 
 The house consists of two long wings of comparatively modern 
 erection, and a main building more ancient in its construction, 
 which connects the two and retreats in a long line of kitchen and 
 servants' offices, making the general form of the mansion that of 
 a great T, the top of the letter being the front of the house, and 
 facing the avenue ; the arms, the two wings and the shank, the 
 servants' quarters, that cut off all view of the windows in the back 
 of the left wing from those in the rear of the right. 
 
 The entrance to the servants' quarters is on the right, conse- 
 quently Barnes passes round that side of the building upon his 
 way to them. He does this quietly, and arriving there finds all 
 dark ; not a servant stirring after the labor of that day, which 
 had been great. 
 
 But as he turns away, debating what next to do, a light issuing 
 from a window in the right wing catches his eye. and approaching 
 it softly, he gazes in and sees what makes his heart beat with a 
 wild joy. 
 
 The window is but four feet from the ground, and being half 
 open as the night is warm permits a perfect view of all the
 
 184 Mlt. BARNES OF NEW YOHK. 
 
 room. It is a luxurious little chamber, and within it, the 
 mellow light of a few wax candles beaming on her, sits, at an 
 ornamental table, the girl he loves, a happy smile on her fair face, 
 writing perchance to him. The white glistening silk and satin 
 draped in the picturesque folds of the costume of Corsica hang 
 about the girl in unstudied beauty. Being alone, her attitude has 
 a lazy abandon ; one perfect ankle in its silken stocking, and one 
 little foot in its dainty slipper peeping out into the light which 
 flashes on her white arms and maiden bust, as she raises the paper 
 to her lips, gives a little blush, kisses it and murmurs, " For him /" 
 Had Barnes time he would linger on the lovely picture, but in his 
 mind there is but one thought. This being, the fear of losing 
 whom has shown him how greatly he loves her, knows of no evil 
 to her brother, and above all, herself is safe. 
 
 He gently calls her by a little name that will tell her who he 
 is ; for he wishes to save as much as possible the great shock ho 
 feels must fall upon her soon. 
 
 At his voice, coming through the open casement, Enid starts 
 and trembles ; but as he repeats her name, she is up and at the 
 window with a wonderful happiness on her face, murmuring, " My 
 own! Here? How astonishing! How marvelous! How de- 
 lightful ! Welcome ! " and stooping down places her fair lips to 
 his. Then, seeing the disorder of his dust and travel-stained attire, 
 and the lines of care these last three days have left upon his 
 unshaven and haggard face, her own becomes white, and she gasps, 
 "Good Heavens ! Has misfortune come to us?" 
 
 " Listen !" says Barnes, "and do not interrupt me, but answer 
 my questions straight, for seconds may now mean " he takes her 
 hand in his to give her comfort " your brother's life." 
 
 She gives a little shudder, but obeying his instruction simply 
 says with pale lips, "Ask." 
 
 " Did you attempt to postpone your brother's marriage as I 
 telegraphed you ? " 
 
 " A telegram ! I never got it." 
 
 " You came through Bastia 1 " 
 
 " Yes, on Thursday morning, by steamer, from Nice." 
 
 " The infernal villain ! " mutters Barnes, and then he suddenly 
 astounds Enid by saying, " Go and tell your brother I must see 
 him at once ! " 
 
 " I dare not," whispers the girl. 
 
 " Then I'll go myself ! Where is he?" returns Barnes, spring- 
 ing in the window. 
 
 But she seizes his arm and ejaculates, " Are you mad ! He'd 
 hate you forever ! This is his wedding-night." 
 
 " There is no time for sentiment ! It is life and death and
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 185 
 
 quick life and death too! Darling, be brave while I explain 
 something too horrible almost for belief but still, Heaven helps 
 us all the truth." He takes her in his arms to give her courage, 
 and tells the girl shortly and quickly why he has traveled day and 
 night without sleep or rest to reach Corsica in time. And as he 
 does so Enid shivers as he holds her, and trembling cries, " Have 
 mercy on them ! This will break both their hearts ! " 
 
 But when he speaks of Marina's vow and what he fears may 
 happen to her brother, the girl starts from him and looking at 
 him wildly, gasps, " You are insane ! Kill Edwin ? She ? as 
 well as me if I would kill you. Whatever Danella does, be sure 
 of Marina. She does not know." 
 
 " Not to-day, perhaps," says Barnes, examining his revolvers 
 and carefully testing both trigger and cylinder " And I must be 
 by your brother's side before she does, for to-night, as I believe I 
 live, I believe Danella will tell her. He loves Marina ; he has 
 
 lost her, and he has the passion of a . Good God ! she knows 
 
 nou:" 
 
 And the two start and gaze upon each other in awful silence ; 
 the next instant the American had passed through the door, and is 
 rushing along the hall towards the left wing ; for as he has 
 spoken there came through the stillness of the night a scream, 
 such as Barnes had heard when Marina was bereft before, save 
 that to despair was added the wild ring of some unnatural horror 
 that might in an instant change a bride into a maniac. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 THE BRIDAL CHAMBER. 
 
 As the curtains of the bridal chamber fall behind Marina, the 
 girl is too happy to thoroughly appreciate the luxury of the 
 apartment she has entered. It is a room with many little nooks 
 and retreats in its walls; and a great window at the back, 
 through which a faint moonlight streams in to aid the burning 
 wax tapers which illuminate it, throwing curious shadows on its 
 polished floor, and rendering lustrous the heavy draperies that 
 hang about it. 
 
 Its oaken floor is covered with soft rugs, but they are all skins 
 of wild beasts ; its walls are decorated, but only with weapons 
 and spoils of the chase ; its furniture is fn exquisite imitation of
 
 186 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 the rude arts of by-gone days All is beautiful, but barbaric ; 
 for Danella has too subtle a mind to destroy by any reminder of 
 this modern world, the effect of this day's pageant, that has 
 carried the bride back to her old life and old traditions. 
 
 It is a room in which a painter would depict some old tragedy 
 of feudal days, when men were barbarous and women were 
 cruel. 
 
 For the moment all this is unnoticed by her. There is but one 
 thought in the girl's mind ; she is bride to the man of her heart. 
 She is happy. 
 
 She prays, " God make me a good wife ; " and sits down in 
 dreamy bliss to take the mandile from her hair and throw its 
 lustrou.? masses over her shining shoulders. But as she does this, 
 though the little details are unheeded, still one general impression 
 of the apartment comes to her ; how beautiful are its draperies. 
 Mediaeval, as if woven by ancient looms, the silken hangings 
 completely drape the two entrances ; the one, by which she came 
 in from the great hall-way ; and the other, tovvaads which she 
 steals a glance once or twice with a quick blush, for she guesses 
 it is the one by which Edwin will come to her. These tapestries 
 hang in heavy folds and fall in ample overplus making great 
 billows of silk and satin on the polished floor, and conceal entirely 
 from her view the oaken door behind them. The large bay- 
 window at the back is curtained in the same rich manner ; 
 though the draperies are drawn up in graceful festoons, showing 
 through the open casements the distant mountain shadows, and 
 in the foreground, the soft moonlight. 
 
 Stealing from out this moonlight, right under her window, 
 comes to her a weird, horrible, native song of murder and 
 revenge. f 
 
 Tomasso is singing the Rimbecco to Marina as she sits in her 
 bridal chamber. 
 
 At tirst, in her happiness, she hardly notices its signification ; 
 but, as it grows upon her, her eyes become full of tears, for it 
 tells of the brother she has lost, the one that should be here this 
 night to make her doubly happy. And then, as its awful import 
 strikes home to her for now she realizes what it means she 
 starts, trembles, and coming to the window says piteously, 
 " Tomasso ! Why do you break my heart ? If any hear you, I am 
 reproached forever ? How dare you brand me with the Rimbecco 
 upon my wedding night 1 " 
 
 The old man answers with another strophe more horrid than 
 the last, chanting it in a horse, angry voice. 
 
 "Away ! " cries the girl desperately. "Away ! or I will scourge 
 you from my window ! ''
 
 MR. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 187 
 
 At this two blood-red eyes look at her from the moonlight, 
 and Tomasso hisses to her, " I will not away, for he is here ! " 
 and this horrible old man begins to climb in the window. 
 
 "Are you mad 1 " screams Marina, trying to fight him back. 
 
 But in spite of her struggles he forces his way in, muttering 
 fiercely, " Mad ? Not I ! But when you learn the news, you will 
 be mad ! Woe to you ! Woe to you, Marina ! " 
 
 " No ! it is woe to you, if my husband " she utters the name 
 bashfully but lovingly "finds you here and I tell him your 
 insult, he will kill you ! " 
 
 " To-night, / am the killer ! " 
 
 " You ? " 
 
 "Yes, // Upon the body of Antonio we both made oath of the 
 Vendetta ! You have forgotten, I remember ! You would save 
 him I will kill him ! " 
 
 The girl looks at the man a moment, and seeing the wild glitter 
 of his eye, thinks him insane. Then hearing a step upon the 
 floor of the hall, opens the curtains of the door, crying, " Come to 
 me, this man is crazy ! " thinking she is calling her husband. 
 But instead, Count Danella enters, a cigarette between his teeth, 
 that he chews perhaps a little nervously, and bowing, sa,ys. 
 " What can I do for you, Marina ? " 
 
 She answers by pointing to Tomasso, who stands confronting 
 her. 
 
 On seeing the old man Musso gives a pretended start of surprise 
 and ejaculates, "You here? Did I not tell you in mercy to her," 
 he points to Marina "to go away ! Her bridal night ! It is 
 too horrible ! " 
 
 "Never will I go while he lives ! " cries the old Corsican. 
 
 The words of the Count frighten Marina. Tomasso may be 
 insane, but Danella is cool, calm and collected. She grows pale 
 and asks, " My bridal night ? Too horrible ? What do you mean 1 " 
 
 " I mean," says Musso very slowly, " that to-night an awful 
 accident has taken place by which was revealed to this man, who 
 is a true Corsican, and loves your brother, soul and body, some- 
 thing that I knew a secret that since you have wed him I 
 would have buried in my heart, forever poor Marina." 
 
 " Since I have wed him ? A secret you would have buried ': 
 There can be but one ! " 
 
 " And taken with me into the grave. A secret I would havr: 
 told you that day at Monte Carlo, but you forbade me to reveal 
 to you the name of the English officer who killed Antonio ; and 
 when you said you loved him, I dared not." 
 
 ' Dared not tell/" ejaculates Marina, and then suddenly cries 
 harshly, "My God ! you mean? What do you mean?" And
 
 188 MR. I5AKNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 growing very pale, strides up to Danella and gasps, " No more 
 insinuations. If you never spoke the truth before, tell me the 
 truth now ! " 
 
 "As Heaven is ray judge ! " 
 
 " The truth ! Quick ! " 
 
 " Then if I must. To-night, Tomasso Monaldi, your foster- 
 father and the dead's discovered that the assassin of your brother, 
 Antonio Paoli, was your husband, Edwin Gerard Anstruther." 
 
 If Musso wants revenge he has it now. 
 
 Marina does not faint, which would be mercy to her and spoil 
 the finesse of Danella's plans : but staggers, as to a shot, and 
 clutching a table that is near, supports herself, her eyes rolling in 
 awful horror as she gasps, " No ! No ! God is merciful ! Edwin ! 
 My husband ! It cannot be ! I'll not believe ! " 
 
 " Believe ? It is true as the Credo," mutters Tomasso. 
 
 After a spasm or two she grows deathly calm, though her 
 limbs shiver like aspens, and sighs., "But I must know before he 
 comes," then cries, " The proofs ! before I go mad and cannot 
 judge." 
 
 At this the bridal chamber becomes a torture chamber, all 
 speaking under their breaths, interrupted only by short spasms 
 of faintness and gasps of pain from the victim when the torment 
 is too potent, as Danella racks her, by proving it is true. 
 
 " I had feared this," he says, his soft Italian voice a little more 
 musical than it is wont to be, " and am prepared. Behold, the 
 transcript from the English Admiralty at Gibraltar, showing 
 Anstruther was on board the Vulture as extra officer, that fatal 
 morning in Ajaceio," and as her hand trembles so she cannot take 
 the document, holds it that she may read 
 
 " Yes. He was there," she says piteously ; then with sudden 
 defiance, " but that's not evidence he killed ! " 
 
 " Look at these things taken from his trunk that fell and broke 
 open on the floor," replies the Count with a shrug of his shoulders, 
 showing her a silver crown with a piece of lead flattened against 
 and made part of it. " See ! The lucky money that saved your 
 Gerard's life ! " 
 
 " And still clinging to it, my brother's bullet," gasps Marina. 
 " But it may have come from some other fight. You may not 
 have found it where you say. Do you think I will believe easily 
 what is my death ? " 
 
 " With these two hands I took it from the assassin's trunk. 
 What ! You, fighting for this villain ? You a Paoli ? " cries 
 Tomasso in a savage voice. 
 
 She does not answer this. She knows it is true. Tomasso 
 never lies, but says to the Count hoarsely, " More proofs /"
 
 MR. BARNES OF XEW YORK. 18 
 
 "Lots ! " replies Musso cheerily, for his triumph at times con- 
 quers his finesse. "This pistol look is the duplicate of this 
 broken one your brother clutched in his death agony. You know 
 it well ! You gazed at it each day, till love made you forget - 
 Compare ! " He holds the two before her eyes. 
 
 " The same ! " she groans. 
 
 " And on the handle of this other one, this pistol that killed 
 your brother, is an inscription." 
 
 And forcing her to read, she sees ; her eyes grow large with 
 horror, and this poor tortured girl cries unto heaven, ' My God ! 
 My husband's name ? My name now ! My name now f " 
 
 " Is that enough 1 " Danella softly asks ; for she is wringing 
 her hands and swaying as if she would faint. 
 
 " Enough ? Do you think I am anxious to believe ? Give me 
 all ! I'll not despair till I have all /" 
 
 "Then here is certainty,'" says the Count softly, but very im- 
 pressively, and holding up a paper, " Certainty. This document. 
 You saw me take it from his trunk, Tomasso 1 " 
 
 " Aye ! that I did ! It is his death warrant ! " mutters the 
 old man. " Tell it to her, that she may do her duty ! " 
 
 Then from this sheet of paper that bears some signs of age, 
 Danella reads: " H. B. M. Ship Sealark, July 11, 1882. 
 Alexandria. Being wounded and about to die 
 
 "Yes, wounded and about to die!" echoes Marina. "That 
 was the time in Egypt." A dreamy light cornes in her eyes, and 
 as in a trance she murmurs, " He thought he was about to die 
 but I nursed my darling till I tore death from him, for I loved 
 him he was my own my dear one I was happy ! Happy?" 
 The last is a scream of awful recollection and the girl comes out 
 in titful despair, " In mercy, don't let me think ! Go on ! Some 
 one was wounded and about to die Who ? My Heaven ! My 
 head ! " and presses her hands to her brow and begs piteously, 
 " Go on, while I am sane ! " 
 
 The Count continues, " Being wounded and about to die, I 
 make this statement, in case of court-martial, to exonerate 
 Charles Marion Phillips, H. B. M. Navy, who acted as my second 
 in a duel at Ajaccio " ? 
 
 He gets no further ; Marina has the paper from him, glares at 
 it and screams, " His writing ! Enough ! I believe ! My hus- 
 band killed my brother ! Let me die before he comes / " 
 
 " When he comes there's other work than dying for you, little 
 Marina ! " cries old Tomasso, producing a long, sharp, Corsican 
 stiletto, that he plays with and caresses ; for now, having broken 
 his leash, this bloodhound has gone wild and becomes a wolf. 
 
 " Here's a little collateral evidence," says the Count. " This
 
 1 00 :.1U. UAKNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 telegram from the American. He knows Ans>truther is your 
 brother's murderer and forbids this marriage," and he shows her 
 the dispatch from Barnes. 
 
 " And you intercepted it 1 " Marina cries. " Infamy ! You 
 let me wed the man 1 should have hated ! You, who should have 
 guarded me ! You, who once swore you loved me !" 
 
 " Once I " echoes Danella. 
 
 " Ah, that day at Monte Carlo ! " she sobs. " Could you not 
 see how I loved him ! Could you not see how he loved me ? And 
 now ! Now ! /NOW ! ! ! " 
 
 " Perhaps it would have been pleasanter to have married me 1 " 
 sneers Musso. 
 
 At last the girl realizes the subtle baseness and incarnate 
 cruelty of this man whom once she had respected, nay, almost 
 loved ; a shudder of loathing and disdain thrills her, and she 
 answers, " No ! No ! Even this is better than that. Are you 
 human, arid did not tell me before ? " 
 
 " You forget you threatened that if I dared to tell the truth, 
 your British hero would crush my monkey frame as if I were a 
 mosquito ! Do you remember ? A mosquito ! But mosquitos 
 have stings ! " and Danella lets himself loose, cheers her with a 
 cruel laugh, and continues, " Never break a man's heart. It 
 is a dangerous thing, petite. You robbed me of yourself I 
 rob you of him." 
 
 " Of him ! My husband ! that I must never see again on 
 earth ! My Edwin ! for if I looked upon his face I should forget 
 he is the murderer of Antonio and forgive ! " she sobs, though 
 without tears, and then cries out desperately, " Gerardi mio .' 
 My life ! My soul ! My love ! I pluck you from my heart with 
 my wedding flowers ! May God forgive your crime ! " With 
 this, tearing her myrtle blossoms from her bosom, she sighs, 
 " This is my bridal night ! " and sinks down stunned witk despair. 
 
 The Count murmurs to himself, " The bridegroom will be 
 coming soon. Per JBacco ! What a meeting ! " and steals to the 
 door pf the hall-way, by which he had entered. But there he 
 pauses, for he sees Tomasso, holding the gleaming stiletto, stride 
 down and give Marina's bare white shoulder a sounding slap with 
 his rude hand, such as at other times would make her scream 
 from pain, crying, " Bride ! Wake up ! There's work for you, 
 brave heart ! " then forcing the dagger into her grasp, drags her 
 before a picture of her brother he has hung upon the wall, and 
 under which the Count has written two words, " Assassinato ! 
 Abbandonato ! " as he hisses, " Assassinated by him / Abandoned 
 by you ! Daughter of the Paolis, remember your oath ! " 
 
 Misery had for a moment stupefied her ; but now she notices
 
 MR. BARNES OF NE>Y YORK. 191 
 
 the gleaming weapon in her hand. It fascinates her eye as she 
 begins to tremble and shiver, and says, " For him ? You want 
 me to kill my husband?" a new horror coming into her face, for 
 in the agony of losing this man she worships, she has forgotten 
 her vow to slay him. 
 
 " Are you a Corsican, and ask ? Have you forgotten your oath 
 and your honor ? " hisses Tomasso. 
 
 Then Marina begins to laugh to herself, as if it were a funny 
 thing and cries, " He'd think it was a softer stab from my hand. 
 What's one more horrid thing to-night, to me ? " Then doubt- 
 less for a little time misery makes this girl insane. 
 
 Standing at the door, feasting upon her loveliness and her 
 despair, Danella mutters to himself, " The bridegroom's agony 
 is to come. He who stole her from me," and chuckles and grins 
 and laughs. " If I could only see their meeting Could not 1 ?" 
 Then thinks a moment and says, " Of course ! " At this instant 
 to his ears comes the sound of a horse's hoofs flying up the avenue. 
 He grins again, "The bridegroom is impatient ; I must be quick 
 or I shall miss this rare sport ! " hurries away along the dark hall 
 with cautious footsteps and disappears. 
 
 Tomasso looks in gloomy admiration at Marina, who is pacing 
 the chamber like a savage beast waiting for her prey, now and 
 again glancing at her brother's picture, and groaning and clinch- 
 ing her hands. He cries, " Brava ! There's death in your eye, 
 my mistress ! In you the honor of the Paolis is safe ! Remem- 
 ber your brother's dying agony ! Remember you are a Corsican 
 and can hate as well as love ! " 
 
 " Yes ! He killed him ! He did not spare the brother of my 
 childhood ! Then why should 1 1 To-night I am a Corsican, I hate ! " 
 mutters the girl, her eyes beginning to sparkle with unholy lustre 
 as they did on the beach at Ajaccio. 
 
 "Ah! Now, you are Marina," crones Tomasso. "Now you 
 are the little girl I carried in my arms ; the little darling who 
 used to play with young Antonio in the chestnut woods, and 
 throw the myrtle flowers upon him on fete days poor Antonio, 
 who even as he died called your name with his last breath in 
 welcome. And will you let his murderer live ? " 
 
 " Never ! " screams the girl, " Never ! " 
 
 "This English tiger will not suspect his bride Remember on 
 *.he left side is his heart ! " the old man says to her as she pace*> 
 the floor. 
 
 But in her walk the girl suddenly stops and points at the other 
 entrance to the room ; which, not as yet used, stands with its 
 ample curtains down, completely hiding its door from view, and 
 whispers, There is the place by which he'll enter to receive my
 
 192 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 kisses ! Kisses I Ha ! ha ! ha ! " She gives a little cruel laugh 
 and cries, " Bride's kisses ! Sweet bride's kisses for the husband ! 
 Sharp bride's kisses for the assassin ! ' then raises her dagger 
 as if she could not wait his coming. And suddenly starts and 
 listens; then mutters, "Quick! I think I hear his footsteps! 
 But one man has a right to enter my bridal chamber. It is he, 
 my husband ! " and takes a step as if to meet him. But doing so 
 falters, with a sob in her voice, " My God ! If I look upon his 
 face my Gerard's face I could not kill ! " and then cries out 
 desperately, " I'll not see him through the drapery ! lie dies 
 when he reaches the curtains ! " As she says this, she takes her 
 stand by them with flaming eye, and knife uplifted ready to stab. 
 
 "Pity him not!" hisses Tomasso. "You have a right to his 
 life ! You saved it in Alexandria ! " 
 
 He wants her to kill, but these are not the words to make her 
 slay Gerard Anstruther, for they cause her to remember. 
 
 " In Egypt far off Egypt in that hot -pestilential hospital," 
 murmurs the girl as in a trance, " I feel his wounded arms about 
 me, my Gerard ! and see the grateful yearning of his blue eyes 
 as I moistened his fevered face, fought death for him and won 
 him ! He was my own ! In Egypt ; I saved and I was happy ! 
 I placed my lips upon his brow and I loved him ! Loved him ! " 
 Sho gives a great cry, " I love him still ! He is my husband ! 
 Coming to me his bride ! and I would have killed him ? " She 
 utters the last in a tone of horror, then cries, " Heaven forgive 
 me, I was mad ! " 
 
 She lowers her stiletto. 
 
 Her face and her actions make Tomasso suspicious ; he screams 
 to her, " Remember your oath ! " 
 
 " Yes ! The one I swore at the altar to-day ! To be his wife / " 
 is her answering cry. 
 
 " But I remember my vendetta ! " he hisses, advancing to take 
 the dagger from her. 
 
 Then she turns upon him with flashing eyes, and standing, her 
 back to the curtains, cries, " Away ! you who would have tempted 
 me to eternal infamy and remorse ! " 
 
 " You will not kill ? " 
 
 " My husband ? As soon assassinate my God ! " 
 
 " Then I will do it for you ! I hear him coming give me the 
 stiletto ! " whispers Tomasso, about to seize the weapon. 
 
 But Marina, her eyes filled with dauntless resolution, cries, 
 " Back ! or I kill you ! He is my husband ! Against you ; 
 against the world ; against my vow ; him ! I defend ! " and up- 
 lifting the dagger stands nerved to strike this human panther as 
 he comes toward her.
 
 MB. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 193 
 
 Thus posed, the girl, the soft moonlight falling on her as she 
 leans slightly back, one white arm stretched in unconscious grace 
 across the red drapery of the curtains ; the other with the gleam- 
 ing knife, held high above her head, might be a statue of despair 
 and resolution ; despair, because Marina knows whether Anstru- 
 ther lives or dies, from this night forth, to her, he is as dead ; reso- 
 lution, because if necessary, for his life she will give her own. 
 
 Tomasso pauses ; not fearing death, but fearing it ere he does 
 his mission ; for he is conscious that this beautiful statue before 
 him, motionless and quiet as a serpent coiled to spring, will, when 
 she strikes, be fatal. 
 
 Then, with sudden cunning he whispers ! " Too late ! Malidicta ! 
 He is here ! look ! " and points behind her. 
 
 Marina turns her head to meet her husband's face, just for an 
 instant ; but, in that instant, Tomasso is upon her. Her soft 
 arms are like wax in his tough embrace. Like a flash, he has the 
 dagger from her, and, forcing her back over a little sofa standing 
 near, with one strong arm upon her white, panting throat, he 
 hisses, " Traitress ! " and stands in her place beside the curtains 
 with knife upheld in his other hand, ready to strike the instant 
 Anstruther's breast presses against the drapery ; for he knows in 
 open tight, armed or unarmed, he would be but a baby in that 
 sturdy young Englishman's grasp. 
 
 He has little time for thought, however, for even now he hears 
 steps coming along the passage to this door ; and Marina, who 
 has been struggling silently, now speaks, trying to smile upon him 
 as he holds her down, and says, gasping a little, for his grasp upon 
 her throat is strong " Dear old Tomasso : are you not going to 
 let your foster- daughter fulfill her vow 1 Forget not I am a Paoli ! 
 give me the stiletto ! Let me do my work ! " 
 
 But the old man answers with a surly growl, shaking his head, 
 " No fox is trapped twice ! Look at the sight you have so longed 
 to see the death of Antonio's murderer ! " and-prepares to strike 
 for the steps are very near. 
 
 " Spare him ! Don't kill him before my eyes ! Dear old To- 
 masso, who never refused your little Marina before mercy for 
 him ! Pity for me ! Don't make me a widow on my wedding 
 night ! " begs the girl wildly, and tries to kiss and fondle the hand 
 upon her throat. Then, for the coming footsteps make her fran- 
 tic, she begins to struggle and fight like a tiger-cat the strong arm 
 that holds her down, and cries out desperately, " Keep back ! 
 Gerard ! My husband, for the love of your wife, back ! He is 
 waiting to stab you ! For God's sake, the other way / " 
 
 But these are no words to keep a bridegroom from his bride 
 they rather bring him quickly to her aid for even as Marina 
 (13)
 
 194: MK. BARNES OF NEW YOUK. 
 
 speaks, she hears in awful horror the door behind the curtains 
 open ; she sees his dear form outlined against the drapery, and 
 like the lightning, Tomasso strike, with all his strength, the shin- 
 ing blade twice through the canopy deep into the heart she loves. 
 A stream of something red and warm spurts through the knife 
 rents ; two hideous hollow groans come from behind the curtains 
 that rustle and quiver and wrap themselves about a body, as it 
 crashes to the floor. 
 
 Tomasso, still holding the crimson dagger, strides to the open 
 window to escape. 
 
 Marina staggering after him cries, " You've killed the husband, 
 now kill the wife who loves him ! Kill his widow ! " 
 
 But he shouts back hoarsely, " For the honor of the Paolis ! " 
 and disappears. 
 
 While she, bereft upon her bridal night, turns to stagger to her 
 dead husband ; and seeing trickling from beneath the silken dra- 
 peries a bright red stream that slowly crawls along the oaken floor 
 from out the shadow into the moonlight, groans out in mocking 
 laughter, " I should be happy ! Here is what I prayed for ! " 
 Then screams like a mad woman, "THE BLOOD OF THE VENDETTA !" 
 and falls motionless and senseless, as the thing that lies quiet 
 and dead behind the curtains of the bridal chamber. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE MAN BEHIND THE CURTAINS. 
 
 IT is the scream which comes to Barnes and Enid ; and a few- 
 second after the American's knock is heard upon the hall door of 
 the apartment. Getting no answer, he dashes in followed by the 
 English girl, and sees Marina fainting upon the floor. 
 
 Enid runs to her, crying, " She is dead ! " and taking her in her 
 arms with many sweet words and caresses ; for, loving her 
 as a sister, she doubts not his bride's affection and loyalty to her 
 brother. 
 
 Barnes pauses, looking about the room trying to divine what 
 has happened, and perhaps guessing too well ; for when a moment 
 after he comes to Enid's side, his face is curiously agitated though 
 his voice is calm. He has rung the bell for assistance, but gets 
 no answer for two good reasons, first, the servants who sleep in 
 the distant ell of the building have all gone to bed ; and second, 
 Danella has cut the bell-rope leading from the room.
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 195 
 
 He lifts Marina up and places her on a sofa. Then, in answer 
 to Enid's agonized question, " If this has happened to her, what 
 has befallen my brother ? " says very quietly, " In a few minutes 
 she will revive. Keep cool until she can tell us." 
 
 " But she is dead ! " 
 
 " No more than you ! She has received a shock. This is only 
 a trance. You know I was educated as a doctor." 
 
 " Yes ! " 
 
 " Then for this night I act as one. Bring me that water -jug ! " 
 replies Barnes, attempting cheerfulness and devoting himself to 
 calling Marina back to her senses. " Now, little woman, some 
 smelling salts or ammonia, if you can find any." 
 
 " There's some in my room but my brother ? " 
 
 " Run and get the ammonia ! " 
 
 " But my brother ? " 
 
 " The ammonia ! Quick ! " 
 
 As Enid goes off on her errand, Mr. Barnes looks after her and 
 thinks, " Best keep my darling mooving." Then, " No time for 
 anxiety To-night, Heaven help us I fear there's as cruel a shock 
 for Anstruther's sister as the one that has brought his wife to 
 this." 
 
 He gazes at Marina. She lies before him, very quiet and pale. 
 Lines of intense suffering are about her mouth that now and again 
 by a nervous quiver gives a faint sign of life. As he does so, a 
 horrified expression comes into his face ; for, on the skirt of her 
 white bridal dress is a bright red spot ; and, looking again more 
 closely, he finds another. From her skirt, his eyes go to the 
 floor ; and he mutters " Blood ! She has marks upon her neck, 
 but is not wounded. Whose blood is it ? It comes from under 
 those curtains ! " Starting up, he is about to examine and dis- 
 cover, when Enid's return stops him. While she is in the room, 
 he dares not investigate, fearing what he may find will be too 
 great a blow to Edwin Anstruther's sister. So thinking very 
 hard what is best to do, he tries with all the limited resources at 
 his command to bring sentiency to Marina. 
 
 In a few minutes, perceiving the signs upon her face which 
 precede returning animation, he rises from the Corsican's side and 
 says quietly to Enid, " Dear one, will you do me a favor ? I do 
 not wish this young lady to see you immediately on recovering 
 consciousness. Will you go to your room and trust me to do all 
 that is necessary in this matter 1 " He takes her hand in his 
 very tenderly. 
 
 "You fear?" 
 
 " Yes, I fear the effect upon her of seeing you." 
 
 " No ! No ! You dread the shock to me. You fear for my
 
 196 MU. BARNES OF NEW YOKK. 
 
 brother. Do you suppose I suffer less not knowing, than know- 
 ing ? Why do you always stand between me and those curtains t 
 There's something horrible in this room ! Something you dis- 
 covered while I was gone something you dare not ! " But 
 Enid stops here with a suppressed shriek, for Marina rising par- 
 tially from the couch, interrupts her by muttering in a dazed way, 
 " Bride and Widow!" and then wrings her hands desparingly. 
 
 Enid would run to her, but Barnes places his arm about her, 
 holds her trembling to him ; and the two watch Marina, who rolls 
 her eyes around the room, and after a moment stands upon her 
 feet, though tottering from weakness. 
 
 In a moment she sees the American, and horrifies him ; for, she 
 says, in a voice of unnatural calmness, though trembling a little 
 from faintness, " You, here ? You came to save us but you did 
 not come in time. What have you done with his body ?" 
 
 " His body 1 " echoes Barnes, with a very grave face, holding 
 Enid close, for he fears she will faint. 
 
 But his sweetheart is made of better stuff ; she tears herself 
 from his arms and confronts Marina, crying, " Whose body 1 
 My Heaven ! Not my brother's ? Not Edwin's ? " 
 
 " Yes, your brother's and my husb ind's ! " answers Marina, 
 and then goes into an awful paroxysm of anguish, screaming in 
 despair " My husband, that I loved, murdered before my eyes ; 
 I hear his footsteps now ! coming to my arms ! coming to his 
 death ! " and mutters, " Listen ! Footsteps ! his footsteps ! They 
 sound alway in my ears coming forever coming ! Coming ! 
 Coming ! Coming! " and with that takes a stride to Barnes 
 and screams " Don't you hear them too ? " 
 
 " By Heavens ! Yes, footfalls upon the hall floor ! " says 
 Barnes. 
 
 " I know his step ! " It is Edwin ! " cried Enid. 
 
 " Yes, the footsteps of the dead," mutters Marina. 
 
 " No ! of the living ! " screams Enid ! and rushes to the door 
 that leads from the hall into the arms of Edwin Anstruther, who 
 comes hastily in with the flush of eager happiness upon his face, to 
 meet his bride. 
 
 For a moment the young man is more astounded than they 
 are. 
 
 He says, " You here, Enid ! " with a surprised look, and then 
 gasps, " Marina ! What's the matter ?" for his bride has made 
 a step or two toward him, her eyes big with unearthly horror, 
 and looking at his face has screamed, " His spirit come to reproach 
 me with his death ! " 
 
 As she shrinks trembling from him, he attempts to take her in 
 his arms, saying, " Dear one don't you know me your hus- 
 band 1 "
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 197 
 
 Brit she gets back from him, motioning him away, and astonishes 
 them all by crying, " You are not my husband ? You are his 
 spirit ! My husband's body lies behind those curtains ! " She 
 stands with uplifted arm a moment pointing to the draperies 
 through which Tomasso has stabbed, and then her eyes gaze in 
 fondness at Edwin, and she mutters, " If I could be a spirit, too ! 
 Now, after the grave has washed your hands of his blood, I could 
 still love you, darling of my soul, without shame to my brother ; 
 though you killed him ! " Saying this, she gazes in love upon 
 him like the Marina of old. 
 
 " Heaven help me ! " gasps Anstruther, " My bride is mad ! " 
 
 " No ! " says Barnes shortly, going to him, " but she soon will 
 be, if this continues." 
 
 " Who are you ? " asks Edwin, seeing him for the first time. 
 
 " Thank God ! You do not know me ; but my name is Barnes," 
 replies the American, who since Anthruther's entrance has looked 
 at him earnestly and curiously and uttered a great sigh of relief. 
 
 " Ah ! " my sister's sweetheart." 
 
 " Yes, I came here to-night, to prevent this. I'll explain after- 
 wards. Your sister and I heard a scream, and coming here found 
 your wife fainting he thought you had been murdered., 
 
 " I ! Imp-=sit'e ! But her eyes tell her I live now." 
 
 " Yes ! 1-j.er eyes see ; but her mind does not believe th m ! 
 You know I am by education a physician." 
 
 "I do ! " 
 
 " Let me be your doctor and her's for to-night." 
 
 "Will you ? " says Anstruther. Then he gives Barnes' hand a 
 warm grasp, and mutters, " Give my wife's mind back to her, and 
 to me and I am grateful forever," and there are tears in 
 the eyes of this great strong fellow. 
 
 " Will you do as I say implicitly ? " 
 
 " Of course ! " answers Edwin, who has learnt discipline in the 
 navy. 
 
 " Very well, I'll try ! " replies Barnes. " Go to your wife and 
 attempt to take her in your arms again, but don't force her against 
 her will I want to see her face and hear what she has to say to 
 you." 
 
 While he has been speaking he has noticed that Marina has 
 thrown off Enid, who has been trying to persuade her that Edwin 
 is alive, and has gone partly over to the curtains as if anxious to 
 draw them aside ; and, then, apparently not daring to look atwhat 
 is behind, has retreated, shuddering. 
 
 Anstruther, as directed, approaches his bride again, calling her 
 softly by name ; and would soothe *nd embrace her. As before, 
 she draws away, but this tin.e gives him. a loving look and says,
 
 198 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 " When I am as dead as you are, dear we'll love again," then 
 screams at him, " No ! No ! Not now ! You are his spirit 
 your body is behind those curtains ! " 
 
 As she says this, Edwin, who has got quite close to her, for the 
 first time seeing the dark red marks of Tomasso's clutch upon her 
 round white throat, suddenly cries in a hoarse awful voice, "Some 
 devil has tried to murder the woman I love and killed my Hea- 
 ven ! only her reason ! " and with that bursts into fearful impre- 
 cations. 
 
 And she screams back to him, " Aye ! He put those marks on 
 my neck ! Curse him who killed you ! " 
 
 Barnes interrupts the cruel scene by seizing Ansthruther, pulling 
 him aside and whispering sternly, " Is this your promised obe- 
 dience 1 If you are not calm, will she be ? " 
 
 He signs to Enid to again soothe Marina who is now demen- 
 tedly muttering to herself. 
 
 Gazing at her, Anstruther replies, " Calml What have I to 
 look for upon this earth but revenge ! Who is the villian who 
 has destroyed her reason ? Do you know ? " 
 
 "Never mind him now," says Barnes, sharply. "First get 
 your wife's senses back to her ; for every minute she is in her 
 present state is against her ever leaving it. Of course, time may 
 cure anything ; but, as a medical [man, I tell you that if your 
 wife's delusion is not destroyed to-night, it never will be. Acting 
 on that theory, I am ready to take a desperate chance. If it 
 tails, I fear the worst. Have I your consent to try it ? " 
 
 "What is it ! " askes Edwin trembling ; for this change from 
 the greatest happiness to the greatest sorrow of his life, has for 
 die moment shattered his nerves. 
 
 " Before you came, your wife was sane, though broken-hearted ; 
 she thought you had been murdered. Since she has seen you, she 
 thinks you are a spirit she says your body is behind those cur- 
 tains ! " 
 
 " Well ! " 
 
 "Well, show her the body that is behind those curtains ! " 
 
 " You believe there is a body behind them ? " 
 
 " I hope there is ! " 
 
 " You hope there is ? " echoes Anstruther surprised and horrified. 
 
 " Yes, for your wife's sanity and your happiness ! " returns 
 Barnes. " For if, when I open that drapery, there is no corpse 
 behind, Marina will be a mad woman. In fact, is one now ; such 
 an hallucination without reason is mania. At present I believe 
 she has so vivid an impression that you are a dead man, that even 
 your presence has not as yet overcome it. Pray God there a body 
 that she may see it is not yours.
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 199 
 
 " Then you think there is someone killed there ? " says Edwin, 
 .looking at the dark draperies. 
 
 " I do ! " is Barnes' confident reply. 
 "Who!" 
 
 " That I don't know, but I've an idea that Providence has 
 worked out things about right this time ! " answers the Ameri- 
 can. 
 
 " Have I your consent 1 Mind, the chance is desperate ! " 
 " Yes ! " says Anstruther firmly. " For God's sake and in God's 
 name, go on ! " 
 
 " Then be ready ; when I tell you, do you draw these curtains ; " 
 and with those words to Edwin, Mr. Barnes turns to Marina, who 
 is standing with Enid's arms about her, gazing at her husband in 
 a dazed way. 
 
 The two girls are near the centre of the room, the men between 
 them and the draped door. Anstruther approaches this slowly, 
 while Mr. Barnes, considering his words carefully, says to the 
 bride, " Mrs. Anstruther, you think your husband's body is behind 
 those curtains 1 " 
 
 " I know it ! " she cries ; " I heard his coming footsteps I saw 
 twice through that canopy the knife strike deep into the heart I 
 love. I heard his awful groans. I saw the draperies twist about 
 his falling form. Would I not think that was my husband if I 
 did not know he was dead ! " With this she points to Edwin, 
 who is approaching the curtains, and whispers to him, ' You are 
 treading in your own blood now." 
 
 Barnes looks, sees there is a red pool round the young English- 
 man's feet, and being pretty certain of his point, says quickly, 
 " So far you are right you heai d a step, but it was not your hus- 
 band's. You saw a form behind those curtains, but it was not 
 the man you loved ; the groans that came to you were not Edwin's 
 
 the body lying there is not Gerard's Anstruther's but ! " 
 
 He gives the signal, and Edwin drawing the curtains open, 
 Marina, who even while he speaks has been gasping and pant- 
 ing, " Can it be ? Is this so ? " springs forward and screams with 
 joy, " My husband is alive ! Thank Heaven ! That is the body 
 of the man who came to see me kill him ! " 
 
 For there behind the curtains, glaring at them with face half 
 grin and half agony and two great wounds in his heart, lies Count 
 Musso Danella. 
 
 " Danella ! " gasps Enid, sick with horror. 
 " My friend ! " mutters Edwin sadly, and stoops to lift up his 
 body. 
 
 But Barnes, closing the curtains and shutting out a sight that 
 makes them shudder, stops him, remarking, " No use, the scoun-
 
 200 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 drel's been dead ten minutes. What I guessed ; Providence waa 
 about right. Your enemy got what he intended for you." 
 
 " My enemy ? Impossible ! Don't defame his memory ! He gave 
 Marina to me ! " 
 
 " Ask her, and see how much you have to thank him for that," 
 savs Barnes drily. 
 
 But Edwin going to Marina to take her in his arms, exclaims, 
 " See, she is weeping for him now." 
 
 " For him ? For that villain 1 No ! " cries the girl, who now 
 having regained her senses, remembers the awful gulf that stands 
 between her and the man she loves ; and in whose face superna- 
 tural terror is replaced by despairing sadness, " It is because I 
 have lost you, my husband, on this my bridal night. Oh ! dear 
 friend" she gives Barnes a heart breaking glance " You had 
 better have left rne as I was. I should have been happier in- 
 sane ! " 
 
 "My darling, this is as great a madness as the other," says 
 Edwin, trying to get her in his arms, for Marina now appears 
 quite faint. " Lost me? You have gained me forever. You are 
 my wife my loved wife ! " 
 
 But she fights him off with unnatural strength, and cries in a 
 voice that horrifies them all, " I am your wife, but you are the 
 murderer of my brother ! Our lips never meet again ! " 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 DOCTOR BARNES. 
 
 THIS speech astonishes, and dismays Edwin more than either 
 Barnes or Enid ; they have, in a measure, expected it ; to him it 
 is lightning in a clear sky. 
 
 For a moment it staggers and unmans him. He turns to the 
 American and mutters in a broken voice, " You cured my darling 
 of one delusion ; cure her of this more cruel madness and save me 
 from despair." 
 
 " I killed an insane hallucination by a shock,/ replies Barnes. 
 " You go to her and kill a sane one by reason ! " 
 
 " Sane ? To think me the murderer of her brother ? " 
 
 "Yes, with the proofs I imagine Danella has given her, perfect- 
 ly sane." 
 
 Proofs? Absurd!" 
 
 " Question her and see. But as you love her, remember how
 
 MB. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 201 
 
 she has suffered to-night, thinking she saw you murdered before 
 her eyes. See, how weak she is ! " Barnes points to Marina, who 
 partly supported by Enid's arms, stands clutching a chair to keep 
 upon her feet, as she devours Edwin with eyes full of love and 
 hopelessness, and concludes, " Whatever she says or does to you, 
 be gentle with her and never doubt that she loves you." 
 
 Thus admonished Anstruther comes towards his bride ; but 
 when within a few feet of her she puts out an arm to stop him 
 and says commandingly, " No nearer ! You can talk to me from 
 there ! " then implores in a wild, pathetic way, " For Heaven's 
 sake, dont tempt me again. Your kisses would drive me mad 
 with shame ; in them I would forget you were the assassin of 
 Antonio ! " 
 
 " You say I murdered your brother," auswers Edwin, forcing 
 himself to be calm, " May I ask how I killed him ? " 
 
 " In a duel ! You did not know that he would die. You 
 thought he was only wounded. You hurried away to catch the 
 Vulture, leaving for Egypt." 
 
 " Ah ! that duel at Ajaccio ! " cries Edwin, a curious light com- 
 ing into his eyes. 
 
 " My Heaven ! You remember ! You acknowledge ! Now bid 
 me farewell forever ! " Marina says this in a voice of despair, 
 and murmurs, " I love you better than my soul ; but am as much 
 your widow as if you were dead like he who lies behind those 
 curtains in mercy, let me go from you ! " 
 
 For Edwin has got hold of her hand, crying, " You bid me 
 farewell no more. Thank Heaven, I'm not tlie man ? " 
 
 " Not tlie man ? " Marina cries back. " Not the man ? God 
 knows that villain gave me proofs enough for me to take the 
 knife in my hand to slay you ! " 
 
 " To kill me, your husband 1 " gasps Anstruther in a tone of 
 horror, releasing her. And from this time on Mr. Barnes notices 
 with dismay that he makes no further efforts to approach his 
 bride. 
 
 Unheeding Edwin's action, Marina ejaculates, " Look ! " and 
 in an instant this creature who has been scarce able to stand, flies 
 like a meteor to the table and seizes the things Danella has shown 
 to her excitement for a few brief moments giving her preter- 
 natural strength. She darts with them to Edwin and utters hys- 
 terically, "My brother's bullet flattened against the coin that 
 saved your life ! Your name upon the pistol that killed him. 
 Deny that ! See, the description of the duel, given when you 
 feared you were about to die, to exonerate your second, written 
 in your handwriting. Why, it's certainty. Tell the truth 1 In 
 mercy don't deceive me 1'
 
 202 MB. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 
 
 " Those pistols are mine," answers Anstruther moodily, as if 
 some other thought were dominating this matter of the duel in 
 his mind. " They were taken from my stateroom that morning at 
 Ajaccio, by the officer who killed your brother. This coin was his ; 
 this statement made just previous to his death, in my hand, 
 because he was too weak to write himself, is that of George Fel- 
 lows Arthur, who was wounded on the Sealark when we bom- 
 barded Alexandria. He died in my arms a few hours afterwards; 
 and these little things, the flattened bullet, the silver crown, and 
 all that is or was in that valise there, which bears his initials ' G. 
 A., ' George Arthur, were what he asked me, at the last, to 
 deliver with his dying words to his mother when I returned to 
 England. And on this evidence you believed ! " 
 
 " Others believed also ! " screams Marina. Don't reproach me ! 
 That man telegraphed to your sister to stop our marriage. You 
 who saw the duel, tell me it was not my husband killed my 
 brother ! " 
 
 She turns imploringly to Barnes, and he answers, " Thank God, 
 no ! I was in error also. Anstruther, I thought as she did, and 
 would have prevented your marriage, but Danella intercepted my 
 dispatch." 
 
 Marina, her face aglow with rapture, dashes to the floor the evi- 
 dences of this night's monstrous lie, and cries, "With these he thought 
 to make me kill you, Edwin ! At last, again I'm happy ! " and is 
 staggering to her husband's arms, when he horrifies them all by 
 saying coldly, " A pity, Barnes, your dispatch came too late ! " 
 At these words his bride recoils, shudders, shrinks away from him, 
 and cries out hysterically. " Oh ! I knew this would be the end. 
 If he were guilty I could not be his wife ! If he were innocent 
 he would never forgive me. He's going to break my heart ! See, 
 he looks like he did when he condemned the criminal in Egpyt." 
 
 " Edwin, my brother ! Remember how you love her ! " begs 
 Enid. 
 
 " Anstruther ! " says Barnes sternly, coining to him " Your 
 wife can bear no more agony to-night." 
 
 " My wife, who on evidence such as this thought her husband 
 an assassin ! That's what you called me ! " answers Edwin in a 
 very stern tone, confronting Marina, who looks at him with a pale, 
 scared face, but does not for a moment answer. 
 
 " Do you suppose I would have believed you a murderess on the 
 word of others ? But dare I doubt your words to me that to-night 
 you took a dagger in your hand to kill me your husband hurry- 
 ing to your arms, with all the affection, love and trust man ever 
 gave to woman ! Tell me I didn't hear you ! Tell me you lied to 
 me ! Tell me you are delirious but don't in mercy to me let ine
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 203 
 
 think that my bride would to-night have assassinated me ! " Edwin 
 begins with a reproach but ends with a supplication. Getting no 
 denial he turns gloomily away, sinks into a chair, covers his face 
 with his hands and looks at her no more. 
 
 " I was crazy then as I will be soon again," gasps Marina, 
 giving him a yearning glance that would melt him if he saw it. 
 
 Guessing, he dare not look at her for fear he will forgive ; the 
 girl becomes braver, and, taking resolution to fight for her happi- 
 ness, walks up to him, a slight tremble in her step, puts out a hand 
 to lay it upon his arm, then withdraws it, shuddering, lest he 
 repluse her ; and says in a voice unnaturally calm " Edwin, my 
 husband, you listened to the criminal in Egypt do the same to 
 your wife ! " 
 
 " So, you want justice i " Anstruther says coldly, not looking 
 at her. 
 
 " Not justice, but, for God's sake, mercy ! " she cries imploringly. 
 
 " Go on," he says hoarsely. " Do you suppose I want to break 
 my heart also ? You know how I love you tell me all ! " 
 
 " All all now, Gerard ! It is my little chance of keeping my 
 husband's love. I had always intended to confide it to you ; some 
 day in the far happy future, that may now never be mine, when 
 years of fellowship and walking hand in hand had made you know 
 that your wife had repented but now perhaps you'll not forgive. 
 You may think me unworthy to be your wife. O, God turn your 
 spirit to mercy ! Pity me, Gerard ; think how I love you don't 
 break my heart ! " and, as she says this, the girl begins to falter 
 and tremble and shudder in a paroxysm of despairing agony. 
 
 Enid coming to Barnes, whispers to him, "For Heaven's sake 
 stop this ; it is too cruel ! " 
 
 " Not I ! " he returns grimly ; " it's their one chance of happi- 
 ness. If your brother does not forgive her to-night, he never 
 will." And then he says impressively to Marina, " Tell you hus- 
 band all." 
 
 "All? about my vow? and the hospital ?" she gasps. "That 
 when he thought me an angel of mercy, I was an angel of death ! " 
 
 " Angel of Death ? " cries Anstruther, with a tender ring in his 
 voice, " In the hospital ? No ! No ! There you were a saint on 
 earth. Not from your own lips would I believe that the dear one 
 who nursed me so mercifully, so divinely, with such infinite pity, 
 and such womanly devotion, could be aught but an angel of light. 
 In the hospital ! That was were I learnt to love you ! " and he 
 gives his bride a glance that tells her that even now his heart is 
 all hers. 
 
 This look, instead of encouraging, frightens Marina, for it shows 
 to her the greatness of the man's affection that to-night's confes-
 
 204 MB. BAKXrS OF NEW YORK. 
 
 sion may lose her. She cries wildly, "You think me an angel. 
 My Heaven ! when you know, you'll think me a fiend ! I can't 
 tell, I dare not tell all ! Then you will never forgive ! " 
 
 " Is it so horrible as that ? " groans Edwin and Barnes can see 
 the strong man's fingers clench themselves in agony. 
 
 "You'll think it so! You are English; I am a Corsica n ! 
 You've not grown up in a land where undying vengeance is its 
 noblest passion ; where the honored custom of the vendetta is in 
 the air you breath. Think of that and pardon me ! I loved my 
 brother, almost as I love you. I thought the duel unfair An- 
 tonio murdered. A true daughter of Corsica, over my brother's 
 body, I made the vow of the vendetta on his assassin ! That vow 
 took me to Egypt ! That vow took me into the hospital where 
 wounded English sailors lay, that in their delirium I might dis- 
 cover my victim." 
 
 At this declaration Enid shrinks from her, and Anstruther, 
 who has gazed at her in amazed horror, breaks into a ghastly 
 laugh and cries, " This was the nun's vow of charity for which I 
 honored the girl I loved. Don't cast infamy on the being I wor- 
 shipped ! Don't tell me that the woman I had taken to be the 
 wife of my affection, would have slain in cold blood a wounded 
 man ! " He seizes her, turns her beautiful face towards him, looks 
 wildly into her despairing eyes and then mutters, " By all the 
 saints ! I won't believe you, if you do ! " 
 
 " No ! No ! I entered the hospital only to discover not to 
 kill; I couldn't have done that!" screams Marina. "Ask the 
 dying men whose last pangs I made easy ; ask those I nursed to 
 life and see if I was not better than my vow ! I sought my enemy ; 
 but I pitied, I tended, I soothed the rest they loved me ! Never 
 did fevered sufferer call for water and I came not ! Never did 
 man die of pestilence and flee from him ! You were one of them, 
 my husband you know ! How say you, were the hands that 
 hovered over your couch in Egypt the hands of hate or the hands 
 of love ? " 
 
 " The hands of an angel ! All mercy, all charity ! " answers 
 Edwin, with tears in his eyes and in his voice, " As I hear you 
 speak of deliberate murder I cry, am I mad, or are you ? " 
 
 " But I had repented of that ! Por love of you I had renounced 
 my vow, until that devil," Marina bursts forth, pointing to the 
 curtains behind which is Danella's body, " brought me here, back 
 to the habits and traditions of my native land ; to be the jeer and 
 scoff of my neighbors because I forgave. To bow my head in 
 shame on this, my bridal day, at taunts from childhood's friends 
 because I did not slay. Then to-night, when association had made 
 me again a Corsican and a savage, Danella and Tomasso proved
 
 MK. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 20- r ) 
 
 to me that you, my husband, had killed the brother that I loved. 
 They forced a dagger into my hand, and for a few moments I was 
 mad ! That's all ! Forgive me ! I was mad ! " 
 
 As Marina stops, panting with weakness and misery, and gazing 
 at them with eyes pleading for sympathy, the other three look at 
 each other, an awful thought in each of their minds that none of 
 their tongues dare utter. 
 
 Anstruther falters a moment ; then desperately strides up to 
 his bride in a frightened way, and, pointing to the curtains that 
 screen Danella's corpse, gasps with lips that are pale and trembl- 
 ing, " Who killed him 1 " 
 
 As he asked this, Marina starts as if he had struck her, and 
 gasps in return, " Not I ! Before God, not I ! It was Tomasso !" 
 
 But as her husband utters, " Thank Heaven ! " with a great 
 sigh of relief, she is before him, with eyes flashing unutterable 
 reproach, crying, " Look me in the face, if you dare, after that 
 question. I your wife your bride you feared had waited in 
 ambush to slay you, and had mistaken Danella for you. That's 
 what my husband thinks of me ! When I heard the coming step 
 I remembered, not my vow of the vendetta, but my vow to be your 
 wife. The dagger, Tomasso had placed in my hands, I turned 
 against him. Behold ! the bruises of his clutch upon my throat 
 when I was fighting for your life ! Look on them ! They cry 
 shame on you ! " As she says this last, scorn mingles with the 
 soft reproof of her voice. 
 
 The livid marks of Tomasso's cruel hand smite Edwin with 
 remorse and make him very tender to this girl who in her help- 
 lessness has fought for him. He sobs forth, " Forgive me ! For- 
 give me ! Forgive ! " 
 
 But she heeds him not, going on wildly, " And you thought I 
 would have murdered you ? I plead no more 1 I'm too weak to 
 plead ! When you were feeble, I succored you ; when you were 
 attacked, I defended you ; and now, in my extremity after the 
 agony of this night the heart that should beat against mine is 
 turned from me. My bridegroom has deserted me I love you, 
 Edwin ! That's all cruel as you are, I love you I forgive 
 you ! " 
 
 And beaming ineffable charity and divine tenderness on this 
 man who has made her suffer, Marina staggers and would fall, but 
 Anstruther's arms close round her. Lying upon his heart she 
 gives him one happy smile and one little sigh, " My husband ! " 
 and becomes unconscious as death. 
 
 As for him, he is like a wild man, showering kisses upon lips 
 that do not return them, begging forgiveness for his cruelty, and 
 mumbling caresses into ears that do not hear him. Seeing he
 
 206 MK. BARNES OF NK\V YORK. 
 
 cannot animate her, he calls to Barnes, " Quick ! Tell me she's 
 not dead ! Have I broken the tenderest heart on earth 1 " 
 
 Before the American can answer, Enid is by her brother's side, 
 and, woman like, gives him two awful stabs ; for she says in a 
 cutting voice, " That's right. Cry shame on yourself after your 
 cruelty has made your bride faint. That's the way men always 
 do. Your caresses would have done the woman who loves you 
 more good when she begged you for them. Let me have the dear 
 one in my arms, and see if rny kindness cannot undo my brother's 
 ^everity." 
 
 But Edwin says grimly, " She stays here ! " 
 
 And Barnes rejoins, " Which is exactly the place that is best 
 for her." 
 
 At this, Miss Anstruther turns her eyes upon him, and giving 
 him a little scornful laugh, cries, " You're aiine doctor ! You let 
 my brother torture your patient to death ! " 
 
 But Barnes, who has been bending over Marina, says hope- 
 fully, " Pooh ! Happiness rarely kills. She felt your arms, Ed- 
 svin, about her before she fainted. Her last sigh was one of 
 contentment, not of despair. That's a great point. Now, before 
 your wife regains consciousness, I have a few words to say to you. 
 let this thing go on, because I knew that this explanation must 
 come before either you or your bride could be happy. As your 
 physician, I should have stopped it at once ; as your friend I per- 
 mitted it to continue. This over, I'm your doctor again." 
 
 " Then, as my doctor, bring her to," whispers Edwin. 
 
 " Not at present ! " 
 
 " Not at present ? " echoes Enid surprised. 
 
 " That's what I said ! " returns Barnes. " When your wife, 
 Anstruther, opens her eyes, it must not be upon this room 
 nor in this house. She's endured more agony to-night than most 
 people suffer during life. She has youth, health, strength, and I 
 trust in you, that she'll have happiness with which to fight her 
 battle against any evil results to her nervous system from the 
 shock it has just received." 
 
 " She'll have all the happiness my love and my tenderness can 
 give her," says Edwin. 
 
 " That'll be plenty ! " continues Barnes gravely. " But mark 
 me," here his voice takes a tone of command, " don't you on any 
 consideration leave your wife's side until you have my permission. 
 Not seeing you, the memory of this will come back to her ; she'll 
 grow anxious at your absence and perhaps hear those coming 
 footsteps again your continual presence must keep her from that. 
 Take her to Enid's room ! When your bride awakes, your 
 arms are what she must feel, and your face is what she must see ; 
 and be ready in fifteen minutes to leave this house."
 
 MB. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 207 
 
 At this, Edwin, who is in the act of carrying Marina from the 
 room, pauses and says, " Leave tins house where shall we go to 1 " 
 
 " To Ajaccio en route for England ! " 
 
 " Marina is too weak to travel." 
 
 " She must travel ! I must have your wife out of Corsica to- 
 morrow morning ; away from all that will remind her of the 
 vendetta. Any excitement is better for her than remembrance. 
 Leave everything to me. If I'm your doctor, obey me ! " and 
 Barnes comes to Marina and looks at her with a grave face. 
 
 " Do what you like ; only save her for me ! That's all ! Save 
 her for me ! " gasps Anstruther, gazing at the beautiful creature 
 lying in his arms. 
 
 " All right I'll make every arrangement. Ther'lk be a car- 
 riage for you shortly at the door. You think of nothing but mak- 
 ing your wife know that you're alive and love her Enid and I 
 will do the rest, won't we little girl ? " says Barnes very tenderly 
 to his sweetheart, as he looks at Edwin bearing his bride out of 
 the apartment, and thinks, " What would be my despair if my 
 love was in such strait as his." 
 
 Something in his face alarms Enid ; she comes to him, places 
 her hand upon his arm and whispers, " You fear 1 " 
 
 11 No," he replies, consideringly. " I have great hopes she'll 
 be able to dodge the brain fever. But not a word of that to your 
 brother." 
 
 Here his sweetheart astonishes him by giving him a look of 
 admiration and remarking, " What a doctor you are ! What an 
 officer you would make ! You give your commands as if you were 
 in action ! " 
 
 " Yes a sick-room is the doctor's quarter-deck ! " said Barnes. 
 " But to business ! " and he gives Enid some hasty directions 
 about the articles she had best take with her for Marina's use and 
 hers. As for their baggage it can follow after, he'll send his ser- 
 vant for it. The great thing is to get his patient out of Corsica 
 and away from the associations and recollections of this night. 
 " If I could but keep Marina asleep until then, it would be a great 
 tfhing for her. What would I not give for a narcotic ! " As he 
 says this, the sound of horse's hoofs upon the avenue in front of 
 the house comes to him, and he hears the clanking of a sabre and 
 a martial tread upon the portico. " De Belloc ! " he cries. " I'll 
 see what he can do for me,,' and steps out to meet that officer. 
 
 As Miss Anstruther goes off to do the commission he has 
 charged her with, she sees the American in eager conversation 
 with a military figure on the balcony. 
 
 Mr. Barnes hastily explains the situation to de Belloc, and that 
 officer who is promptness itself in all matters of duty, issues orders
 
 208 MR. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 
 
 to a few of his men to follow up and arrest Tomasso. " After 
 committing an assassination, a Corsican generally flies to the 
 mountains and becomes a bandit," he remarks grimly. " We'll 
 capture this gentleman before he develops into a full-fledged Fra 
 Diavolo." 
 
 By this time the members of the Count's household are aroused. 
 They hear of their master's fate with horror mingled with rage , 
 and, were it not for de Belloc's troopers, there might be another 
 tragedy that night for Danella had been a kind master to his 
 servants, who mutter some very ugly threats against these 
 foreigners as they look upon the dead body of their lord. 
 
 But Barnes does not give them much time to think of plot ; 
 some he sets to work carrying out the luggage that must go with 
 them , the rest he drives off to the stables to put horses to a car- 
 riage which, assisted by a couple of cavalry men handy with strap 
 and buckle, they soon make ready for the party 
 
 Meantime, learning from a servant that the priest in the village 
 acts as a general practitioner for the peasants about, and has a 
 simple stock of medicines, the American rides off on one of de 
 Belloc's horses, and waking the good old man from his slumbers, 
 tells him what has befallen the bride he blessed in his little chapel 
 < ' it day, and obtains from him the narcotic he desires. Return- 
 ing, he places this in Enid's hands with these words : " When 
 Marina comes to her senses, if she seems happy and confident that 
 her husband is with her and alive, give her this, in one dose, 
 if not, stop the carriage till 1 overtake you." 
 
 " But you come with us ? " says Enid. 
 
 " Yes, just behind you on horseback with de Belloc." 
 
 " You've had no rest for days ; you'll kill yourself. For my 
 sake take a seat in our carriage," entreats his sweetheart. 
 
 " There's no room. Your brother and his wife, you and your 
 maid will fill it." 
 
 " Leave Tompson behind. Do you suppose I am helpless with- 
 out her ? " 
 
 " Not at all ; but alone with these Corsicans after what has 
 happened, your maid, who is a green English girl, would die of 
 fright," returns Barnes. 
 
 " Burton ! you think of eveiything except yourself ! " cried 
 Enid, and gives him a look that makes him feel very happy. 
 
 A minute or two afterwards, Anstruther carries his bride, still 
 insensible, to the carriage. After seeing his patient is as com- 
 fortable as possible for the journey, and tucking an extra rug 
 about his sweetheart, Barnes gives the signal to the driver, and 
 away they go ; Edwin, with Marina in his arms, on the back seat, 
 and Enid and her maid sitting opposite to them.
 
 MB. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 20S 
 
 De Belloc and those of his troopers who are not in pursuit of 
 Tomasso, follow after; and the whole party travel down the 
 valley of the Gravona, whose white torrent, weirdly beautiful in 
 the moonlight, foams beside their path, racing with them to the 
 sea. 
 
 The French officer glances sharply once or twice at the Ameri- 
 can who rides by his side, and then says, How long is it since 
 you slept ? " 
 
 " About forty-eight hours," replies Barnes, " Give me a weed 
 if you have any with you, de Belloc ; I've smoked my last, and I 
 think one will help keep me in the saddle." 
 
 " Liable ! you do a great deal for a friend," returns the French- 
 man, producing his cigar-case ; " but you are in love, I presume, 
 with that beautiful English girl. May I congratulate you 1 " 
 
 "You can," says Barnes, helping himself to an Habana ; 
 " married in a month." 
 
 " Ah ! " mutters the veteran, a little sadly, " I loved once," 
 and his grizzled moustache twiches nervously for a moment. They 
 smoke in silence till suddenly de Belloc reins in his horse, and 
 says, " Hush ! " 
 
 The two pause, listen, and hear a few scattered shots ring out 
 far up the mountain-side. 
 
 Half an hour afterward, the detachment sent in pursuit of 
 Tomasso overtake them at a gallop. 
 
 De Belloc says sharply to the sergeant in command of the 
 party, " Where is your prisoner 1 " 
 
 11 We left him behind us," replies the man saluting. 
 
 "Dead?" 
 
 " Yes, sir " 
 
 " My orders were to capture him alive, if possible," returns his 
 officer, sternly. 
 
 " He would not surrender. He fired on us and wounded one 
 of the men." 
 
 " Then it could not be avoided. You can fall in sergeant," 
 and, turning to Barnes, de Belloc continues, " This will make it 
 easy for your party to leave Corsica. There will be no trial, and 
 do you contrive to get out of the island before I make my report 
 to the civil authorities. Then all will be well." 
 
 " Providence permitting, we are out of Ajaccio this morning," 
 replies Barnes, for it is now after midnight. A moment later he 
 says to his friend, " Please direct your men not to talk of 
 Tomasso's death in hearing of my party. They've had shocks 
 enough for one episode." 
 
 11 Certainly ! " is the reply ; and the necessary orders are 
 given. 
 
 (14)
 
 210 MU. BARNES OF NEW YORE. 
 
 Just about this time, Edwin, holding Marina in his arras, in 
 the carriage, leans over to his sister, and whispers, " She is 
 conscious." 
 
 And as he says this, his bride murmurs, " My husband's voice! 
 you are alive my dream is true ! " A moment after she looks 
 round and asks faintly, "Where are we? Where do we go?" 
 
 Anstruther, who had been silently fondling her, answers, 
 "With me, dear one, to England." 
 
 " Away from here in my husband's arms I'm happy ! " she 
 returns, and after a little goes to sleep, for Enid has obeyed 
 Barnes' instructions and has given her the narcotic. 
 
 But, before this brings her rest, Edwin sheds another tear over 
 his beloved one for he feels her hand go to his heart, and he hears 
 her murmur, " It beats ; my husband lives ! " 
 
 She is sleeping peacefully as a child, upon his breast, as 
 in the morning sunlight they drive up the quiet main street of 
 Ajaccio. 
 
 It is a bright, beautiful, cloudless Mediterranean day. Barnes 
 riding behind the carriage gazes in a sleepy way down the gulf 
 arid sees the steamer from Marseilles just entering the harbor. In 
 a moment he is thoroughly awake, and a few minutes after is at 
 the office of the steamship company, and in direct telegraphic 
 communication over the Toulon cable with their main house in 
 Marseilles. 
 
 So it comes to pass, that the boat has hardly arrived, when the 
 American goes on board and astonishes her captain by showing 
 him a dispatch from the head of his company, directing him to 
 discharge his freight and passengers at once, and return immedi- 
 ately to Marseilles with Mr. Barnes and his party. 
 
 " The manager is mad ! " cries the skipper. " I have other 
 ports to go to ! " 
 
 " Not this trip," is the confident rejoinder. " The lady with 
 us is too sick to wait." 
 
 " Why, it can't be philanthropy has caused this crazy order," 
 gays the captain, rubbing his hands in a dazed way. " What 
 can have made them do it 1 " 
 
 " The power of American gold ! " laughs Mr. Barnes ; for 
 his patient is doing very well, and though very tired, he is very 
 happy. 
 
 The commander of the steamship goes up to the office, verifies 
 his dispatch, and two hours afterwards his vessel steams out of 
 Ajaccio with Marina, Edwin, Enid and Mr. Barnes on board. 
 
 Anstruther has carried his wife, still sleeping, to a state-room. 
 The American is looking over the talfrail at the inn of II I'escatori, 
 which is now growing indistinct in the distance, and thinking of
 
 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 211 
 
 all the misery and trouble the duel fought upon the beach there 
 has produced, when Enid conies to his side and he says to her, 
 " Now that Corsica is behind us, the sooner Mrs. Anstruther 
 awakes and pulls herself together the better." 
 
 " I came to tell you that Marina has opened her eyes and is 
 now talking to her husband," answers Enid. 
 
 " Got any delusions 1 Does she say anything about coming 
 footsteps 1 " askes Barnes anxiously, tossing away a cigarette he 
 is about placing in his mouth. 
 
 " Thank Heaven ! " 
 
 " Only her eyes never leave Edwin. The way they follow him 
 about is pathetic it made me cry. Just as I left she said to me, 
 ' Think if I had lost him, my innocent one they tried to make me 
 murder.' " 
 
 " All right," cries Barnes , "that's sanity. I'm going to bed'" 
 
 " I thought you would wish to see your patient," says Enid, 
 slightly astonished at his off-hand manner. 
 
 " No, the sight of me at present would set her memory going, 
 and just now I want her to forget. She'll be well in a few days. 
 Oh, Laws ! how sleepy I am," replies Barnes, stifling an enormous 
 yawn 
 
 " Then you're not going to prescribe anything for Marina t " 
 
 " Oh, of course ! I wouldn't be much of a doctor if I didn't 
 send her a prescription," replies the gentleman. With these 
 words he goes off quickly and a few moments after returning, 
 says, " If I'm the physician, you must be the nurse ; go down 
 and see that the patient takes the medicine I've ordered for her." 
 
 "What's that?" 
 
 " A good big breakfast ! " rejoins Barnes. " Come and report 
 to me if she eats it." 
 
 Half an hour after Miss Anstruther returns to him once more, 
 gives a little laugh and says, " Doctor, your invalid was wonder- 
 fully hungry. Your diagnosis was that of a genius." 
 
 The only answer sLe gets to this is a resounding snore; and 
 looking down, she discovers that Barnes, who is lying upon a 
 bench is fast asleep. 
 
 The girl gazes at him, smiles and mutters, " What a darling 
 scarecrow ! " For not having changed his clothes since he left 
 Nice, with face unshorn, matted hair and mouth wide open, in 
 this sloep of uttor exhaustion, he mnlcr>s a frightful picture. Bnt 
 as she looks upon and sees the deep lines of care, the wrinkles 
 and haggard expression that these last three days have brought 
 to the face she loves, Enid murmurs, " His fatigue, his care, his 
 ituxiety, all for ine."
 
 .212 Ull. UAKNKS OF NEW YORK. 
 
 And though last night's travel has wearied her, she sits down 
 by him, and making a soft pillow of her lap for his head, silently 
 watches his slumbers. 
 
 After a time his sleep becomes restless and troubled, he 
 struggles, his lips move, she can hear him calling to the sailors on 
 board the felucca, and knows he dreams he's fighting his way to 
 her side, and she grows very tender towards him. At last he 
 cries, in a groan of despair, " Oh ! God ! for a little breeze to 
 carry me to Corsica in time to save my lovo ! " As he does this 
 the tears in the girl's eyes overflow and run down her fair cheeks. 
 She bows her head over him and whispers sweet words in his ear; 
 and then, as he keeps on his groaning and mumbling, she begins 
 to shudder with terror ; her face becomes white. With a throb 
 of fear she pounces upon Mr. Barnes and wakes him up. 
 
 That gentleman comes to his senses, looks round and says very 
 gravely, " Enid, what are you crying for ? Anything wrong be- 
 low?" 
 
 " No ! " replies his sweetheart with a sigh of relief" I ! I ! 
 oh ! Burton, you were making such a noise in your sleep that I 
 thought that the brain fever you apprehended for Marina had 
 come to you ; and so I woke you up and robbed you of your 
 rest." 
 
 " I've had plenty for the present I must have slept six hours ; 
 it's nearly dark now," says the gentleman, looking about. And 
 then getting Enid's hand, remarks, " So you were frightened for 
 me ?" 
 
 " Frightened ? As if I could bear to have anything happen to 
 you now ! " 
 
 " Have I grown in value 1 " 
 
 " Enormously. What would have become of us all without 
 you last night ? A doctor that has common sense ! " 
 
 " A doctor without diploma or practice." 
 
 " Oh ! you've got one patient now. Edwin said this morning 
 that he would hand me over to you as his fee for your medical 
 services." 
 
 " Indeed ! " cries Barnes ; " I wonder if he would pay me my 
 fee down ! " 
 
 " Down ? What do you mean ? " 
 
 " I mean," replies the gentleman slowly, " that a month is a 
 very long time." 
 
 " Oh ! if that's what you're insinuating, and you dare, I'll 
 I'll marry you as soon as we arrive in England," says Enid, blush- 
 ing a little. 
 
 " Done ! " cries Barnes, " May Heaven punish me if I ever 
 make you repent it ! "
 
 MR. BARNES OF NKTV YORK. 21* 
 
 As they sit together hand in hand, looking at the blue cloud 
 that in the dusk is all that is now left to them of Corsica, Edwin 
 brings Marina on deck. She is very pale, but beautiful as ever ; 
 and, though her great eyes follow her husband every time he 
 moves, there is naught but happiness and contentment in them. 
 .Vnstruther strides up to Barnes and seizing his hand gives it a 
 mighty shake, and, looking at his wife, says huskily, "God bless 
 you I believe, but for you, my bride would have lost her senses 
 last night." 
 
 " Don't mention it," returns Barnes ; " I shall receive the big- 
 gest fee that ever a doctor got ; and am content." 
 
 Edwin looks at him in astonishment until Enid says, " My 
 brother, in three days I am to be the happiest girl in the world ! " 
 
 " What a curious synonym for Mrs. Barnes of New York ! " 
 laughs the American
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 85SSL 
 
 Form L9-32m-8,'57(.C8680s4)444
 
 r Barnes of New 3 1158 01332 7316 
 
 PS 
 
 1769