UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. 
 
 GIRT OR 
 
 Y. M. C. A. OF U. O. 
 
 ^Accession 1.01,767 Class , 
 
ME. OLDMIXON 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM A. HAMMOND, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "LAL," "DOCTOR GRATTAN," ETC. 
 
 NEW YOEK: 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 
 
 1, 3, AND 5 BOND STREET. 
 
 1885. 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1885, 
 BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. 
 
 All riyhts reserved. 
 
05 1 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER, 
 
 I. WHY BARBARA LAUGHED ........................... 5 
 
 II. A DISCONSOLATE LOVER ............................. 21 
 
 III. A FAMILY PICTURE ................................. 39 
 
 IV. FATHER AND DAUGHTER ................. . ........... 54 
 
 V. MAKING A WILL JACK OLDMIXON ................ . . G7 
 
 VI. " WHAT BROUGHT You HERE?" ..................... 84 
 
 VII. " A FEAST FOR THE GODS " ......................... 98 
 
 VIII. A HORRIBLE DEED .................................. H2 
 
 IX. A DISAPPOINTED COUPLE ......... .................. 128 
 
 X. BARBARA WORKS AND THINKS ..................... 146 
 
 XI. JACK AND His Fox ................................. 160 
 
 XII. A PAIR OF DOCTORS ............................... 177 
 
 XIII. A TENDER-HEARTED HUSBAND ....................... 194 
 
 XIV. A VISION, OR WHAT ? .............................. 211 
 
 101767 
 
IV CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER. PAGlt 
 
 XV. THE BASILISK AND THE WEASEL 225 
 
 XVI. "I COULD NEVER MARRY HIM, FATHER" 240 
 
 XVII. " WELCOME TO LASATA !" 255 
 
 XVIII. " WHY SHOULD SHE NOT ?" 269 
 
 XIX. " I LOVE You " 283 
 
 XX. REVELATIONS 297 
 
 XXI. " BY HEAVEN ! THAT TOUCHED HIM " 310 
 
 XXII. THE TORTURE is CONTINUED 323 
 
 XXIII. HOGARTH HAS AN IDEA 337 
 
 XXIV. " HER HEART SANK WITHIN HER " 354 
 
 XXV. " STOP, IF You LOVE ME !" 367 
 
 XXVI. "MY GOD! WHICH SHALL IT BE?" 383 
 
 XXVII. " EVERYTHING S GOING ON WELL " 399 
 
 XXVIII. HOGARTH is SATISFIED 414 
 
 XXIX. HOGARTH MAKES SEVERAL DISCOVERIES 429 
 
 XXX. "THE ROGUE S MARCH".. . 445 
 
MR OLDMIXON. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 WHY BARBARA LAUGHED. 
 
 u Do you think that head is thrown far enough back, 
 father?" 
 
 The speaker was a young woman of apparently twenty 
 years of age or thereabouts. She was neatly but plainly 
 dressed, and she was seated in front of a long table or 
 work-bench, moulding into a natural attitude the stuffed 
 skin of a canary bird that was nearly ready for mounting 
 on the little wooden pedestal that stood close at hand. 
 
 The room was evidently the workshop of a taxider 
 mist, for there were lying about it, on tables and chairs, 
 and even on the floor, several skins of animals of various 
 kinds. There were also half a dozen or more mounted 
 specimens in different stages of forwardness. There was 
 a Skye terrier ready to be sent home to his disconsolate 
 mistress so soon as his hair should have received its final 
 combing and brushing, and there was a diminutive black 
 kitten, that had doubtless once been the playmate of 
 some rich man s little daughter, if a judgment could be 
 formed from the fact that there was a silver collar about 
 its neck with the name " Georgiana" marked upon it in 
 blue enamel letters ; and there was a bull-dog rather the 
 worse for his troubled existence in this world of sorrow, 
 
6 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 for one ear was entirely gone, and the other had been so 
 materially damaged as scarcely to bear, aside from its 
 position on the beast s head, even a remote resemblance 
 to an auricular appendage, while his body at various 
 places was denuded of the hair that nature had originally 
 given him, allowing long and deep scars to be seen, that 
 were the honorable evidences of the glorious battles he 
 had fought. Then there was a rattlesnake, probably a 
 hunter s trophy, coiled as though about to deliver a blow 
 to an adversary, its jaws opened to their fullest extent, 
 and its ugly -looking fangs elevated to the position requi 
 site for penetrating the flesh and discharging their venom 
 into the blood of its victim. 
 
 At the other end of the room from where the girl was 
 working was an old man, the one whom she had ad 
 dressed as " father." lie was intently engaged in set 
 ting up on its platform a magnificent specimen of the 
 royal Bengal tiger. So busy was he, that he did not ap 
 parently hear the observation that she had addressed to 
 him, but went on with his work, bending one leg of the 
 beast and straightening another, and giving the neck a 
 little turn here and another in a different direction there, 
 until he had succeeded in getting the posture that he 
 thought would best display the nature of the animal. 
 Then he went off to a little distance and surveyed his 
 work from various points of view, going up to it occa 
 sionally to change the position of some part that did not 
 give him entire satisfaction. 
 
 In the mean time the girl went on with her work. 
 
 She was not what would have been called beautiful by 
 the majority of those who set up as judges of the faces 
 of women. She would never have been selected by a 
 dressmaker or by one of those purveyors of fashion that 
 
WHY BAKBAKA LAUGHED. 7 
 
 clothe lay figures in their aesthetic productions, to stand 
 in a bay-window or a show-case as a displayer of their 
 chromatic and morphological structures. I have a friend 
 who insists upon it that the faces and forms of these lay 
 figures are more beautiful than those that nature pro 
 duces. For him the worker in wax has no superior as a 
 delineator of the human form divine, and he goes down 
 town every morning to spend an hour or so in the con 
 templation of the lovely pink and white compositions, 
 clothed in tissue-paper gowns, that stand in the windows 
 of the pattern-makers. He would never have looked 
 twice at Barbara Henschel. 
 
 But an artist, a painter or a sculptor, a poet, any man 
 with brains in his skull, would not only have looked 
 twice at Barbara Henschel, but he would have looked a 
 dozen times or more if he had had the opportunity, and 
 even then he would not have been satisfied, for there was 
 something in her face that was irresistibly attractive to a 
 thinking man. It was not, perhaps, in her large gray 
 eyes, for there was nothing particularly remarkable 
 about them. A thousand such can be seen any fine Sat 
 urday or Sunday afternoon in Central Park. It could 
 scarcely have been her hair, which was red unmistakably 
 red ; not auburn or golden, but red like that that Titian 
 has put on the heads of some of his Venetian women, 
 only a little redder. A lock of it under a glass case 
 would not have been a beautiful object. It might have 
 decked the head of one of my friend s magnificent figures 
 that stand in Madame Felicie s shop-front, and no one 
 but he and others with his materialistic notions would 
 have admired it. But on Barbara HenschePs shapely 
 head it was quite another thing. It seemed to have a 
 life of its own that it got from sympathy or association 
 
8 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 with the rest of her, just as an eye or a hand receives its 
 beauty from the soul that flashes through it and the blood 
 that courses through its veins and arteries. Nature had 
 not been miserly in the matter of quantity ; for although 
 it was all, save a few irregularly placed curls on her fore 
 head, gathered together into a knot at the back of her 
 head, it was easy to see that the growth was sufficiently 
 luxuriant to excite the envy even of the " Fair One 
 with Golden Locks," had that magnificent fairy being 
 caught a glimpse of it. 
 
 As to her complexion, it goes without saying that it 
 was fair. It was of the kind that red-haired women 
 usually have, though perhaps a little paler. The skin 
 was of course thin and delicate, so that under the influ 
 ence of the adequate emotions it would blush or become 
 pallid with a promptness and a thoroughness that would 
 leave nothing to be desired on the score of passional 
 manifestation. 
 
 As she uttered the words with which this chapter be 
 gins, the faintest beam of a smile passed over her counte 
 nance ; and then it was seen that her eyes lighted up with 
 a wonderful beauty that in their condition of repose they 
 gave to the commonplace observer, such as my friend, the 
 admirer of Madame Felicie s lay figures, no indication 
 of being able to exhibit. But the artist, the poet, and 
 the man with brains would not have been surprised ex 
 cept, perhaps, at the extent of the change. He would 
 have known all along that the power of expression was 
 there, not only in her eyes, but in every feature of her 
 face. It was that knowledge that would have made him 
 want to look more than twice at her, hoping that some 
 thing would stir her emotions or her intellect, and bring 
 out the latent beauty that lay hidden in her face. 
 
WHY BABBARA LAUGHED. 
 
 And the like was true of her mouth, that most expres 
 sive of all the features, not even excepting the eyes. As 
 she spoke and smiled, the parting of her lips showed two 
 rows of white and regular teeth, that appeared to be as 
 satisfactory from a masticatory as they evidently were 
 from an aesthetic point of view. There is no middle 
 ground so far as teeth are concerned. They are either 
 good or they are bad. If they are not the one they are 
 assuredly the other. This girl s teeth were good. 
 
 It must have been something remotely connected with 
 the bird she was mounting, rather than the bird itself, that 
 made her smile. The work of the taxidermist is not 
 particularly enlivening any more than it is especially 
 healthy. Indeed, the continual handling of the skins of 
 dead animals must tend, one would think, to produce a 
 melancholy, or at least a grave frame of mind, just as 
 the contact with arsenic, corrosive sublimate, and other 
 poisonous but preservative substances is calculated to 
 exert a deleterious influence on the bodily health. Bar 
 bara Ilenschel had, however, evidently been endowed 
 with sufficient mental and physical stamina to resist both 
 categories of depressing influences, for she was sound of 
 health in mind and body. Her organs worked with all 
 the regularity of a dynamo -electric engine, and the con 
 sequence was that she had the superlatively healthy body 
 that insures the superlatively healthy mind. 
 
 Yes, there must have been something directly or indi 
 rectly associated with the bird that tended to excite her 
 risible faculties ; for as she moulded the plastic form of 
 the little creature with her slender fingers, and scanned 
 it from time to time with a critical eye as she pursued 
 her work, her face appeared to be constantly on the 
 point of again relaxing into a smile, until at last, unable 
 l* 
 
10 ME. OLDMIXO;N\ 
 
 to restrain herself, she dropped the object of her skill 
 and, throwing herself back in her chair, burst into peal 
 after peal of merry laughter. 
 
 The old man who was working on the royal Bengal 
 tiger at the other end of the room now ceased his labor, 
 and, raising his spectacles from his nose, looked at the 
 girl in utter astonishment. As the laughter continued, 
 he rose from the bench on which he was sitting and 
 softly walked over to where she was at work. He stood 
 behind her for a moment, looking over her shoulder at 
 the bird that still lay on the table. Then he picked it 
 up and carefully examined it, holding it in various posi 
 tions, adjusting now the head and again a wing, but so 
 slightly that no appreciable change was made in the atti 
 tude as given by his daughter. 
 
 " I don t see anything to laugh at," he said at last to 
 the girl, who had in the mean time ceased to manifest her 
 mirth, and was, with him, looking critically at the bird. 
 " It s very well done, much better than I could have done 
 it, and I ve been at the business close on to sixty years, 
 as apprentice, journeyman, and master. You ve got the 
 true instinct of the artist, my dear. Ah, how often have 
 I told you that the art of the taxidermist is as high and 
 as subtle as that of the sculptor ! Look at that bird ! 
 Could the English Lawson, or the French Barye, or even 
 the American Kemeys, who stands a head and shoulders 
 above them all, have done better in marble or bronze ? 
 Couldn t you swear that it was just about to pour forth 
 its piping notes indeed, that you must have suddenly be 
 come deaf, for that otherwise you would certainly hear it 
 singing away at the top of its little voice ? You can see 
 the delicate throat swell with the expansion of the larynx, 
 and almost move as it varies the inflections and tones of 
 
WHY BARBARA LAUGHED. 11 
 
 the notes that you are sure are coming out. Can the 
 sculptor do as much with his clay as you have done with 
 the skin of that bird and a little cotton wool ? Ah ! my 
 dear, you are an artist, a true artist, for you know how 
 to interpret and to depict nature, and to put into your 
 work a living spirit." 
 
 " I m glad you think it s good, father. I d rather 
 please you than all the rest of the world, for you know 
 what is good and true in art ; and if I ve been able to 
 get a little of your inspiration, 1 am satisfied." 
 
 " What I know, Barbara, I ve acquired by hard work, 
 with stern necessity to urge me on rather than genius. 
 But you could not remain idle if you tried, for you have 
 a soul that needs no spurring to make it plunge forward 
 in the race of life. But you must go away from here to 
 some place where you will have a chance to expand. 
 Here you will never be appreciated by the public. 
 You ll always be regarded just as I am as a mere i ani- 
 mal-stuffer and you ll wear out your young life in the 
 old shop mounting pet birds and dogs and cats, without 
 ever getting even the name of artist, while others with 
 a tithe of your talent and none of your genius carry off 
 the prizes of life." 
 
 " But, father dear," said the girl, patting his cheeks 
 with both hands as she stood erect before him and looked 
 fondly into his face, " I d rather work here with you 
 than to go away and try to be great. Perhaps, after all, 
 I d fail, and then where would we both be ? No, no ; 
 let me stay with you. I like my work, and I like to be 
 with you ; I d rather be happy than famous." 
 
 " Ay, girl, that s all very well," resumed the old 
 man, stroking her red hair with his old withered hands, 
 and lingering over the action as though it afforded him 
 
12 MR. OLDMIXON 
 
 infinite pleasure ; "far be it from me to drive you away 
 from your old father, for you are a good girl, Barbara, 
 a good girl, and you ve always been good since the day 
 you were born. But you might be famous and happy 
 both, my dear. How would you like that ? Famous 
 and happy ! For, you see, fame brings money, and 
 what would we be without that ? There s a good deal 
 of competition now in our business, and I m getting old ; 
 and though I m good yet, it won t be very long before 
 I ll have to give up. Not but that you could carry on 
 the work. I know you could. Professor Ricketts at the 
 Museum told me the other day that the flock of quails 
 you mounted for him was the most artistic group of birds 
 in the collection. 1 heard him pointing out its beauties 
 to several ladies when he didn t know 1 was standing be 
 hind him, and he said there wasn t a taxidermist in 
 Europe or America that could equal it. That s high 
 praise from him, for he s seen all the famous museums 
 of the world. But, after all, what is it ? He and you 
 and I know that no one but an artist could turn out 
 such a gem ; but to the world it s only a piece of bird- 
 stuffing, with which your name is not connected. He 
 paid a good price for it, though good, that is, for our 
 work ; but if it had been in bronze you d have got a 
 thousand dollars for it. 
 
 " Then let me stay, father. When you get too old 
 to bother yourself with work I ll carry it on, and all 
 you ll have to do will be to give me your advice and in 
 struction." 
 
 " Ay, but I want to see you famous before I die. 1 
 want to see your name in the newspapers. I want to 
 hear people talking of the great artist Barbara Henschel. 
 I want to see your work in the exhibitions and engraved 
 
WHY BARBARA LAUGHED. 13 
 
 for the illustrated magazines, with biographies of you, 
 and your portrait at the head of the articles. Then I 
 think 1 could die in peace. And I wouldn t leave you a 
 pauper either, Bab. I ve got a nice little sum all for 
 you, dear ; enough, too, to keep you in comfort while 
 you are studying, so that the wolf would never be at 
 your door. Old Christian Henschel hasn t been a taxi 
 dermist for more than half a century for nothing. 
 
 " Then you shall give up work whenever you choose. 
 We ll buy a little farm like the one near New Rochelle, 
 that you were looking at last summer. Peter shall look 
 after the shop and do the hard work, just as he does 
 now ; and I ll come into town every day and do the 
 mounting. Then, you see, I could bring out with me 
 the smaller animals, and you could show me how to dis 
 play them to the best advantage. Wouldn t that be 
 nice ?" 
 
 " Yes, yes, very nice ; but it would be still nicer if I 
 was to sell the business to Peter, and instead of your 
 coming to town every day to stuff animals, you came to 
 take lessons in sculpture from Mr. Maurice. I was 
 speaking with him about it yesterday, and he said noth 
 ing would give him greater pleasure than to have you as 
 his pupil ; and then in a year or two you should go to 
 Europe and study the works of the great masters. I ve 
 enough to pay for it all oh yes, quite enough. " 
 
 " And leave you here ! I couldn t do that, father." 
 
 11 1 didn t say that, my dear," said the old man, with 
 a low laugh. " As 1 get older a longing to see old 
 Denmark again comes over me. "We have glorious 
 sculptures in Denmark. There is no one since the an 
 cient Greeks that has equalled Thorwaldsen. We ll go 
 together, and perhaps spend a year in Copenhagen. 
 
14 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 Wouldn t you like that better than wasting your talent 5n 
 stuffing pet canary birds ?" 
 
 " Perhaps I would, father," answered the girl, while 
 her face showed the pleasure that the picture held up by 
 the old man gave her, " if I thought " 
 
 "If you thought I d like it too? That s what you 
 were going to say. You think too much of me, and not 
 enough of yourself. My race is nearly run, yours is 
 scarcely begun. I can never be anything more than I 
 am an animal-stuffer, as they call me while you can 
 be, and, please God, you shall be, the admiration of 
 kings and emperors, and, better still, of artists. Think 
 of it, dear ! think of it ! There s time enough ; I ll 
 give you a month from to-day to decide." 
 
 " O father, you re so loving and kind to me !" she 
 said, while her eyes filled with tears. " I ll try to do 
 what s rigJit for your sake." 
 
 " In one month, then, from this day and hour you 
 shall give me your decision. But you haven t told me 
 what you were laughing at," he continued, laughing 
 himself at the idea of his forgetfulness. " It s not often 
 that you laugh so heartily as that. It put me quite in 
 mind of your poor mother, of the time when she was a 
 Danish peasant girl and I was a journeyman taxidermist 
 for old Easmus Olafsen, in Copenhagen, nigh on to fifty 
 years ago. Yes, she laughed just like that ; just like 
 that fifty years ago." 
 
 The old man seemed for a few moments to be entirely 
 overcome by his recollections of the past ; and then, 
 without waiting to be told the cause of his daughter s 
 mirth, he shuffled back to his work on the royal Bengal 
 tiger. 
 
 " Then you don t care to hear what I was laughing 
 
WHY BAKBAKA LAUGHED. 15 
 
 about ?" inquired Barbara, as sne picked up the bird and 
 began to adjust it to the little perch on which it was to 
 stand. " You know 1 always see the funny side of 
 everything." 
 
 " Oh yes, I want to hear ! You re a jolly girl, Bab. 
 Sometimes I think that, in view of all the serious matters 
 of life, you are too light-hearted ; but it s good for you, 
 after all, perhaps. When your mother was Olga Ilei- 
 berg, she was always laughing at something ; but after 
 she married me and came to America she tasted the reali 
 ties of life mostly sorrows, as they are to their full. 
 We had a hard time of it here the first three or four 
 years after our arrival. There was very little demand 
 then for my work, so that we suffered ; but, thank God ! 
 we conquered a good place in the world at last." 
 
 " That was because you knew more about taxidermy 
 than any one else in the country ; because you had an 
 artist s eyes and head, and because you were not afraid 
 of work. Now you have orders from all parts of the 
 United States." 
 
 " Yes, and have had for thirty years. That tiger is to 
 go to the Academy of the Natural Sciences in Philadel 
 phia, and that ornithorhynchus to the Museum of Com 
 parative Anatomy in Cambridge. Oh, I ve had orders 
 from Mexico and South America, and Europe, too ! 
 We ll see some of my work in the Prindsens Palace in 
 Copenhagen. I sent a buffalo to it last year the only 
 specimen of the animal they have ever had. Yes, 
 they ve plenty of my work in Europe, and they ve paid 
 pretty well for it, too, as prices go in our business. I 
 got three hundred dollars for the buffalo, but it cost me 
 fifty to get the skull and the skin." 
 
 He went on with his work at the tiger after this speech, 
 
16 MB. OLDMIXON. 
 
 while Barbara, having finished mounting the canary, 
 placed it under a glass shade and went to where her 
 father was sitting surveying the result of his labor. 
 
 " I haven t told you yet what 1 was laughing at," she 
 said, with a smile on her face. " 1 don t believe you 
 care to know." 
 
 " Yes, yes, I do !" exclaimed the old man, with 
 every appearance of interest. " I forget ; my memory 
 is very bad, and it gets worse every day. Things that 
 took place sixty years ago I recollect as distinctly as 
 though they occurred only yesterday ; but the things of 
 the moment escape me. I was talking with Professor 
 Laird about it yesterday, and he said that I don t register 
 impressions as well as I did. My brain is not so sensi 
 tive. You see, my dear, I m over seventy years of age ; 
 but I m a pretty strong old fellow for all that, and my 
 eyes, when I ve got my glasses on, are just as sharp and 
 just as true as ever. Now, look at that tiger ! Isn t he 
 splendid ? How they ll cro\vd around him at the 
 Museum next Saturday ! I have the consent of the 
 Academy of the Natural Sciences to show him at the 
 Central Park Museum before he goes to Philadelphia. 
 But then," he continued, as he resumed his seat on the 
 bench, while Barbara remained standing by his side with 
 one hand resting on his shoulder, " what were you laugh 
 ing at ?" 
 
 " I was thinking," answered Barbara, laughing again 
 at the remembrance, but not so heartily as before, " of 
 the old gentleman that brought the bird here to be 
 mounted. He was very old older than you, father, but 
 dressed like one of those young men that we see in the 
 Park driving his horses tandem and with a pretty young 
 lady by his side. He told me all about the bird, and he 
 
WIIY BARBARA LAUGHED. 17 
 
 wept over his story as though his heart were deeply 
 touched ; as it was, no doubt. 
 
 " But, Barbara, my dear, it isn t kind to laugh at the 
 grief that a person feels when a pet animal has died. 
 It s strange how these dumb creatures do creep into our 
 hearts ! And it s well for us that it s so, for more than 
 half of our work comes from the mounting of dead pets. 
 Yes, a good deal more than half. It s an honorable 
 feeling, and we should be the last ones to laugh at it. " 
 
 "I wasn t laughing at his grief, father, but at the 
 story he told ; and it was so strange that he should 
 have told it to me, a perfect stranger. He lives opposite 
 to a very beautiful young lady, and he s in love with 
 her. He s seventy -five if he s a day, and she s my age. 
 He s an old bachelor and, as he told me, has been in love 
 more than forty times, but could never quite make up 
 his mind to propose. And so some young fellow has at 
 last, in every case, come along and married the lady, or 
 else she has died while he was trying to get his courage up 
 to the point of asking her to be his wife. He says there 
 are over forty ladies, any one of whom could have been 
 his wife if he had had the daring a man ought to have. 
 The oldest is seventy-four and the youngest twenty." 
 And again Barbara laughed. 
 
 u He seems to have a brave enough idea of his power 
 as a lady-killer, and I think he s an old fool ! exclaimed 
 Mr. Henschel, with some degree of irritation in his 
 voice. i He ought at his time of life to be thinking of 
 the grave instead of marriage, and to a woman of 
 twenty at that !" 
 
 "Well," continued Barbara, " the young lady who 
 lives opposite to him had a canary that she prized very 
 highly, and that every morning, in full sight of her old 
 
18 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 admirer, she hung out of her window. Then he used to 
 sing while the gentleman sat at his window and listened 
 to each note, as though it came, as he really imagined at 
 times it did, from the lady herself. " 
 
 " What, you don t mean to say that he was quite 
 such an old idiot as that !" 
 
 " Yes ; that s exactly what he told me. It seemed to 
 him as though the bird were telling him what the lady 
 had said, and he used to sit behind the curtain of his 
 window and listen to it till the sun got round and the 
 lady took the bird in." 
 
 " lie imagined the bird to be a medium for the lady 
 to communicate her thoughts to him ?" 
 " Yes, that was it." 
 
 " But did he have no way of replying ?" 
 " That is coming. Every day the bird used to sing, 
 and, as the heart-sick swain imagined, tell him that his 
 love was returned, and that all he had to do was to ask 
 for the lady s hand, and that she would gladly give it to 
 him with her love. But for all that he could not muster 
 up courage enough to do as he thought he was told. In 
 fact, he had never spoken to her in his life, and did not 
 even know her name her first name, I mean. " 
 
 " He s a lunatic, my dear ! Oh, there s no doubt of 
 that ! When I was a boy in the little village of Thune, 
 where I was born, there was an only man named Jan 
 Petersen, who used to think all the birds were talking 
 to him. Hour by hour he d sit in the fields listening 
 to them and talking back at them. At last he got to 
 throwing stones at them, for he thought they were abus 
 ing him ; and one day a stone that he threw at a thrush 
 struck a little child in the head and killed him. Then 
 they shut Jan Petersen up in a lunatic asylum, and 
 
WHY BAKBAKA LAUGHED. 19 
 
 that s what they ll do with your old beau if he doesn t 
 mind." 
 
 " I shouldn t be surprised. But hear what he did. 
 He was too bashful to talk to the lady, but he bought a 
 canary bird and hung its cage up in his window and 
 talked to it of his love for the lady while he was sitting 
 behind the window curtain. Then, when the bird sang, 
 he thought it was telling the lady s bird how all its words 
 of love were reciprocated, and that thus she would know 
 the state of his heart. But one day the lady left the 
 door of the cage open, and her bird flew away and came 
 across the street ; when, finding the window open, it 
 went into the old gentleman s room. The moment he 
 saw it he shut the window and opened the door of his 
 own bird s cage, hoping that the lady s bird would go 
 in. It did go in just as he hoped ; but no sooner had it 
 entered than the other bird flew at it, and, before the 
 gentleman could interfere, had killed it. This was the 
 end of that love affair, and that is the bird that I have 
 just mounted. His only happiness now consists, he says, 
 in thoughts of the past. He never intends to fall in love 
 again, but he means to soothe his troubled spirit by look 
 ing at the dead canary under a glass shade. It isn t a 
 bad story ; but the idea of that spruce-looking and dandi 
 fied old gentleman thinking of his lost love by gazing at 
 a dead canary made me laugh," 
 
 6 He- s an old fool." 
 
 " He ll be here in a few minutes to get his bird. He 
 said he preferred to call for it rather than to have it sent 
 home. Oh, there he is now !" as a carriage drove up to 
 the door of the office the front room of the establish 
 ment " and Peter is talking to him." 
 
 " Mr. Oldmixon would like to see Miss Barbara," said 
 
20 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 a young man, appearing at the glass door that opened 
 from the show-room and office into the work-shop. 
 
 " He only wants his bird, Peter, and there it is. The 
 price is five dollars." 
 
 Peter took the bird, and passed with it into the front 
 room. 
 
 " Five dollars for that work of art !" exclaimed Mr. 
 Henschel ; " it s worth fifty." 
 
 But at this Barbara only smiled. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 A DISCONSOLATE LOVER. 
 
 ALTHOUGH the door between the two rooms was closed, 
 Mr. Oldmixon s expressions of delight at the appearance 
 of his bird were so loud that it was impossible for Bar 
 bara and her father to avoid hearing them, in part, at 
 least. Mr. Henschel s face lighted up with pleasure. 
 
 " Ah !" he said, in his slow, deliberate way, " he s 
 not such a fool as I took him to be. He knows a good 
 thing when he sees it. You did not charge him enough 
 for it, my dear." 
 
 " Five dollars seems enough for an hour s work, 
 father." 
 
 " But the genius ! the genius, my dear ! You should 
 charge for that, not for the mere manual labor that 
 you put on your work. Unless genius is charged for, 
 Meissonier would get no more for a picture than would 
 a sign painter ; not so much, in fact, for he puts a few 
 hours work on a piece of canvas, while the sign painter 
 is several days at his job. But the one gets ten thousand 
 dollars, and the other the thousandth part of that sum. 
 
 " But there is only one Meissonier, while there are a 
 dozen taxidermists here in New York alone. 
 
 " Ah ! but only one Barbara Henschel. You should 
 assert yourself, my dear. The world generally takes a 
 person at his or her own valuation." 
 
 " Mr. Oldmixon would like to see Miss Barbara," said 
 
22 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 Peter, putting his head in through the half-open door, 
 and instantly withdrawing it. 
 
 " 1 don t want to see him, though," exclaimed Bar 
 bara, with a little tinge of vexation in her voice. " Why 
 can t he take his bird and go !" 
 
 " Oh, see him by all means 1" said her father, with 
 something of an imploring tone in his voice. " He may 
 want to give you a more important order. Never neg 
 lect business, my dear. While we are taxidermists, let 
 us not be forgetful of our interests." 
 
 Thus adjured, Barbara gave a little look at herself in 
 a rather dilapidated mirror that hung on a nail driven 
 into the wall, and without further words went into the 
 front room. 
 
 " I am everlastingly obliged to you, Miss Ilenschel," 
 said Mr. Oldmixon, in a melancholy voice, as soon as he 
 caught sight of her. " I felt that I could not go away 
 without thanking you in person for the beautiful manner 
 in which you have mounted this poor bird. It is the 
 one thing that is left of my my Would you mind 
 asking your assistant to leave the room for a moment ?" 
 he continued, in an altered tone. " Thanks," as Peter, 
 without waiting for a stronger hint, went out, shutting 
 the door after him. " My unhappy passion," resumed 
 Mr. Oldmixon, in the lugubrious accents with which he 
 had begun " unhappy in more ways than one, and to 
 day rendered additionally hopeless. " 
 
 As he finished speaking Mr. Oldmixon took from the 
 breast-pocket of his coat a cambric handkerchief with a 
 wide black border, and gently pressed it to his eyes to 
 absorb the tear that stood in each. Then he very care 
 fully folded and returned it to its place, leaving just the 
 least bit of the black border visible. 
 
A DISCONSOLATE LOVER. 23 
 
 He was certainly seventy-five years of age if he was a 
 day, as Barbara had said. In stature he was scarcely 
 five feet, but was as prim and as neat as though he had 
 just stepped out of a band-box. He had removed his hat 
 on Barbara s entrance, and had thus displayed a head 
 absolutely as devoid of hair as was the palm of his hand. 
 His face was shaved clean of all capillary growth, and 
 was as red as a boiled lobster, as was also his scalp ; and 
 this hue extended down his neck as far as his clothing 
 permitted it to be seen, and doubtless a good deal far 
 ther. He was dressed in the height of fashion, and with 
 an affectation of youthfulness that was ludicrous when 
 contrasted with his evidently advanced age. He sported 
 a blue necktie, with a Roman gold pin representing the 
 head of Medusa, and wore salmon-colored gloves and 
 patent-leather shoes, that he kept tapping with a slender 
 cane all the time he was speaking. Altogether he was a 
 very extraordinary-looking personage, though certainly a 
 gentleman, and entirely sincere in the emotion he was 
 showing. 
 
 For a moment Barbara scarcely knew what response to 
 make to this declaration of his unhappiness ; but she was 
 a quick-witted young woman. She really felt sorry for 
 him, and she was ready to sympathize with him, or any 
 one else, in fact, that suffered in her presence. She 
 thought it better, however, after a little reflection, to 
 ignore the existence of his grief ; so she answered very 
 gently that she was glad he liked the bird. 
 
 " Of course I like the bird ! It is beautifully, most 
 artistically mounted, and I thank you from the bottom 
 of my heart for all the care you have given to the the 
 carcass, shall 1 say ? of my poor little friend. " Then 
 he again took the handkerchief from his pocket, again 
 
24 MB. OLDMIXON. 
 
 mopped up tlie standing tears, and again, folding it ex 
 actly in the creases the laundress had given it, put it 
 back into his pocket. 
 
 " May 1 sit down, Miss Ilenschel ?" he asked, after he 
 had completed these actions. " My feelings quite over 
 power me. 
 
 " Of course, Mr. Oldmixon," said Barbara, bringing 
 a chair and placing it by his side. 
 
 Mr. Oldmixon regarded it for a moment somewhat 
 ruefully, then he looked at Barbara, and then glanced 
 slowly around the room. Espying what he had evi 
 dently been looking for another chair he made a dash 
 for it, and, though it was heavy and apparently about as 
 much as he could comfortably lift, brought it to where 
 Barbara was standing. 
 
 " I never sit while a lady stands," he said, with a low, 
 old-fashioned bow and a little wave of his hand toward 
 the chair. " I wouldn t do such a thing if I were dying 
 of fatigue. Will you kindly be seated, Miss Henschel ?" 
 
 Barbara blushed a little at this attention, and sat down. 
 Mr. Oldmixon couldn t blush any more deeply than was 
 his natural manner, even had he felt like doing so ; but 
 he followed Barbara s example so far as sitting down went. 
 
 "Miss Henschel," he said, after he had crossed one 
 leg over the other, while he continued to switch first one 
 shoe and then the other with his slender cane, " I am 
 about to make you a very important communication, no 
 word of which must ever pass your lips except so far as 
 your father is concerned. Always confide in him. A 
 daughter can have no better friend, at least till she is 
 married to a good man, than her father. Tell him as 
 much as you choose, but be silent while I live to every 
 one else." 
 
A DISCONSOLATE LOVER. 25 
 
 Barbara started. The idea flashed through her mind 
 that he was going to do what he never had had the 
 requisite courage yet to do make her a proposal of mar 
 riage. He had already intimated that his late affair had 
 had an unhappy termination. His manner was so im 
 pressive and, at the same time, so mysterious, that it was 
 not strange that such a notion should occur to her. Be 
 sides, she had strong reasons for believing that he was 
 not entirely of sound mind. She did not believe him to 
 be insane, but she was quite sure that he was very eccen 
 tric, and therefore of that form of mental constitution 
 that prompts to the doing of singular and erratic deeds. 
 
 But a moment s consideration sufficed to show her that 
 such an act on his part was not very probable. In all 
 the instances over forty in number, or, to be precise, 
 forty-three in which Mr. Oldmixon, according to his 
 confession made to her a few days ago, had been in love, 
 he had never been able to master sufficient heart to de 
 clare his passion. It was scarcely probable, therefore, 
 that if he were in love with her of which, indeed, he 
 had given no evidence he should all at once find his 
 courage developed to the extent requisite for making a 
 matrimonial offer. What he had failed in doing forty- 
 three times he would not be likely to succeed in accom 
 plishing on the forty- fourth occasion. Forty- three 
 defeats argued the existence of a constitutional peculi 
 arity that no mental efforts could subdue. The soldier 
 who has run away in forty -three battles could not possi 
 bly fight bravely in the forty-fourth. Besides, as she 
 watched him while he was speaking, she saw that he 
 was in a condition of nervous trepidation that was almost 
 pitiable to behold. Xot only was he slashing his patent- 
 leather shoes with his cane, but his face was twitching as 
 
26 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 though each individual muscle were tacked on to a wire 
 through which an interrupted galvanic current were pass 
 ing. No, he could not be about to venture on a declara 
 tion of love. If he were, he would certainly break down 
 before he began. Besides, there was an accent of sorrow 
 in his tone that was incompatible with the joyousness 
 that should accompany an intention of the kind in ques 
 tion, and a tear was running down each rubicund cheek 
 a tear that seemed to be amply supplied at its source, for 
 it showed no signs of a diminution in the force of its 
 stream, and, so far as appearances went, would keep on 
 in its meandering career till it was absorbed by the stiff 
 " choker" that encircled his neck. 
 
 But Barbara was not suffered to remain long in doubt ; 
 for after going to the door between the two rooms to 
 see that it was entirely shut, and then turning the key in 
 the lock of the street door, Mr. Oldmixon again sat 
 down, again crossed one leg over the other, and again, re 
 suming his pedal castigations, began to unburden his mind. 
 
 " Miss Ilenschel," he said, as doubtless feeling the 
 water-courses on his cheeks he again took out his hand 
 kerchief and pressed it lightly to his eyes and face, " I 
 think 1 am in a position to exclaim with the poet Addi- 
 son, 1 believe the author of that admirable series of essays 
 entitled the " Spectator," as well as of several plays, from 
 one of which, Rosamond, the lines I am about to quote 
 are taken I think," he repeated, " that I am in a posi 
 tion to exclaim in regard to love, 
 
 * Endless torments dwell about thee, 
 Yet who would live and love without thee ! 
 
 For I have met with a misfortune so sudden and over 
 whelming, a catastrophe so dire, so agonizing, and alto 
 gether so cataclysmic if you will permit the expression 
 
A DISCONSOLATE LOVEK. 27 
 
 that it appears to me as though the end of all things is 
 approaching, and as though if I may say so without 
 perpetrating an anticlimax my heart-strings were torn 
 loose from their attachments." 
 
 66 1 am very sorry, Mr. O]dmixon, if anything has oc 
 curred to distress you, " said Barbara, with the tenderness 
 of voice and look that at once showed that she was sincere. 
 
 " You are very kind ; so kind, in fact, that I am 
 tempted to confide in you. Indeed, Miss Henschel, you 
 will recollect that on the occasion of our first meeting 
 when I brought my poor little bird to be restored, as far 
 as your artistic mind and hands could accomplish the 
 object, to the semblance of what it once had been I 
 ventured to give you a few details of my life, which 
 I was not without the hope would arouse in your sym 
 pathizing heart a little spark scarcely a flame, Miss Hen 
 schel a little scintillation if I may employ the simile 
 of pity for one who is, I trust, not altogether unwor 
 thy of such an emotion from such a woman." 
 
 As he uttered these words Mr. Oldmixon s voice, 
 which had never been strong, became more and more 
 squeaky, till at the end it was not far different in timbre 
 from that of a very infirm and juvenile pig. He 
 stopped, and taking a little vial from his waistcoat pocket, 
 and with an inclination of his head toward Barbara, as 
 though to ask her permission, removed the cork, and, 
 holding the open mouth to each nostril alternately, sniffed 
 the vapor that arose from the few drops of liquid. The 
 effect was to make his face still redder than before ; but 
 it appeared to give him renewed strength ; for with an 
 air of relief he recorked the little vial and, holding it in 
 his hand in readiness for another emergency, he again 
 spoke, and with an increased force of voice. 
 
28 MR. OLDMIXOtf. 
 
 " Pardon this little episode, Miss Henschel," lie said. 
 " The fact is, 1 have a weak heart physically as well as 
 mentally, and 1 am obliged upon occasions of a trying 
 character, such as is this, to resort to the nitrite of amyl 
 as a roborant. 
 
 " Can I do anything, Mr. Oldmixon ? "Will you have 
 a glass of wine ?" 
 
 " No, Miss Henschel ; material aid is not what I re 
 quire. I am in search of a receptacle into which I can 
 pour my sorrows ; not a mere inanimate vase, but a liv 
 ing, breathing, heart-possessing repository, such as I have 
 every reason for believing you to be. May I presume 
 that far on your benevolence and my impressions of your 
 disposition ?" 
 
 Barbara began to feel some degree of embarrassment. 
 She was sorry for Mr. Oldmixon more from seeing in his 
 face and manner the evidences of his grief than from 
 any consideration of the subject that had brought him to 
 his present state. That subject she had strong reason 
 for believing was another disappointment in love, and 
 she really had no desire to hear the details of the forty- 
 fourth misfortune that had befallen her susceptible vis 
 itor. There was something, too, that was excessively 
 ludicrous in the idea of this little, desiccated and eccen 
 tric old gentleman making her the confidante of his 
 amatory adventures, or, indeed, in his having any euch 
 experiences at all. Still, what was she to do ? She could 
 scarcely refuse to hear him. He was so gentle, refined, 
 earnest, in his deportment and language, that she could 
 not find it in her heart to repulse him. She was not 
 the kind of a woman to submit to imposition or inten 
 tional annoyance. She had a high spirit and plenty of 
 it when occasion required it to be manifested ; but she 
 
A DISCONSOLATE LOVEK. 29 
 
 had also one of the tenderest hearts that ever beat in a 
 woman s breast, and hence the wounding of the feelings 
 of any one, for the small object of securing relief from a 
 tiresome experience, would have been almost an impos 
 sibility with her. As was to have been expected, her 
 good-nature prevailed. 
 
 " If you think I can help you, Mr. Oldmixon," she 
 said at last, " I shall " 
 
 " If 1 think you can help me !" he exclaimed, inter 
 rupting her. " Miss Ilenschel," he added, with an in 
 creased gravity approaching solemnity, " I know you 
 can help me." 
 
 "I will do what I can." 
 
 " Then listen ! This morning 1 was looking out of 
 my window, thinking of her upon whom my heart was 
 fixed, and trying to get a glimpse of her as she passed 
 back and forth in the sitting-room on the second story, 
 when I observed some unusual signs of an intra-mural 
 activity new to the house. Men with flowers in baskets 
 and in the form of bouquets, others with models of tem 
 ples and of doves, Cupids and other things in confection 
 ery, and women carrying big paper boxes of various forms, 
 entered the house. Then several wagons arrived with 
 the names of Delmonico, Tiffany, How r ard, and other 
 purveyors to the gastronomic and aesthetic tendencies of 
 man and woman, painted on them ; and ice-cream freezers 
 and a multiplicity of packages were handed into the 
 house. Finally, one after the other, a half a dozen 
 carriages drove up to the door, and as many young ladies, 
 dressed in white and carrying bouquets, got out and 
 went in. Then, as did Hamlet, I said : 
 
 * All is not well ; 
 I doubt some foul play. 
 
30 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 But in what shape it was coming I could not divine. The 
 real cause for all the exhibitions 1 had witnessed never 
 occurred to me. It only shows how unsuspicious I am." 
 
 He ceased talking, and again applied the restorative 
 vial to his nostrils, while Barbara, who was quick enough 
 to perceive to what finality his story was tending, listened 
 with increased interest, when, after a moment or two, he 
 resumed his discourse. 
 
 " I stood and watched, my soul filled with the most 
 gloomy but ill-defined forebodings. What could it all 
 mean ? 1 paced the floor ! I struck my forehead ! I 
 rubbed my head with a piece of cocoanut cloth, in the 
 hope of rousing my dormant intellectual faculties to the 
 comprehension of what was going on ; but all to no use. 
 My brain appeared to have sunk into a deep lethargy, 
 with all its faculties, save those of perception, benumbed. 
 1 could see and hear, but 1 could not understand. But 
 the necessary goad to my slumbering wits was soon to be 
 applied without mercy ; for after I had gnawed my heart 
 till the agony became insupportable, the door opened, 
 and she, clothed in white, wearing a white veil and with 
 orange blossoms in her hair, descended the steps and 
 entered a carriage that had a moment before driven up 
 to the sidewalk. The sun came out brighter, and 
 
 1 In the warm shadow of her loveliness, 
 He kissed her with his beams. 
 
 Fool that I was ! Had I known what all those prepara 
 tions meant I might even then have stopped it, for I 
 should have rushed across the street, have entered the 
 house, have thrown myself at her feet, and have declared 
 my passion. Who," he added, looking complacently 
 around the room, as though he had been addressing a 
 
A DISCONSOLATE LOVER. 31 
 
 dozen or more auditors, but finally fixing his eyes on. Bar 
 bara, " can doubt what would have been the result ? The 
 wedding would have gone on, the reception would have 
 taken place, the ice-cream, and the cake, and the chicken- 
 salad, and the terrapin, and the boned turkey would have 
 been eaten ; the champagne would have been drunk ; the 
 band would have played its gayest music; the epi- 
 thalamium would have been recited ; but the bridegroom 
 would have been me Victor Constantine Oldmixon 
 and not the despicable wretch who, like a thief in the 
 night, had stolen into another man s fold and robbed him 
 of his best beloved." 
 
 Mr. Oldmixon fairly broke down with the emotion 
 consequent on the recollections evoked by these words. 
 He covered his face with his handkerchief, upon which 
 he had poured the contents of his remedial vial ; and thus 
 while he sobbed out the expression of his feelings he 
 sniffed in the salutiferous exhalations that were to en 
 ergize his heart. 
 
 Barbara did not know what to do. It was impossible 
 for her, a stranger and a woman of twenty, to offer sym 
 pathy in a love affair to a man of seventy-five, whom 
 she had seen but once before, and whose very existence 
 was till a few days ago unknown to her. Besides, the 
 commiseration that she had felt for Mr. Oldmixon when 
 he began his recital, and when there was more or less 
 uncertainty in her mind relative to the actual details of 
 the disaster that had overtaken him, had rapidly disap 
 peared under the influence of the comicalities of the 
 situation, as they had been revealed to her by his ex 
 travagant though certainly graphic description. Indeed, 
 it was with the utmost difficulty that she restrained her 
 self from bursting out into a fit of just such laughter 
 
32 MR. OLDMIXO^". 
 
 as she had indulged in that very morning over recol 
 lections that had not one tenth part of the ridiculousness 
 of the mental pictures now before her. As it was, a 
 smile, that was several times on the verge of becoming 
 audible, sparkled on her face. Fortunately, Mr. Old- 
 mixon could not see through his handkerchief ; and after 
 he had vented his grief sufficiently, and inhaled an ade 
 quate quantity of the nitrite of amyl to invigorate his 
 heart and nervous system, he proceeded with his story. 
 
 " I was determined to find out who the destroyer of 
 my happiness was," he resumed, with more firmness in 
 his voice than he had yet exhibited. " I am a coward, I 
 admit, so far as women are concerned. Any member 
 of the female sex, if she is good-looking, can twist me 
 around her little finger ; but with men I am a different 
 sort of a person altogether. When I was a student at 
 Heidelberg I fought three duels. The seal s I received 
 in those contests I shall carry with me to my grave. Do 
 you see this ?" as he laid his finger on a fine line that 
 crossed one cheek ; " and this ?" as he indicated another 
 on his chin; " and this?" pointing out one that must 
 have been the remains of a cut that one would think 
 could not have done less than sever his nose from his 
 face. " There are others that have faded out with my 
 advancing years. They are all, however, as nothing to 
 those that I bear on my heart. 
 
 The heart s bleed longest and but heal to wear 
 That which disfigures it. 
 
 So I rushed out of the house to a livery stable in the 
 next block, and jumping into a coupe that was standing 
 ready 1 ordered the driver to follow the procession of 
 carriages that was then passing in sight down the Avenue. 
 
A DISCONSOLATE LOVER. 33 
 
 1 soon overtook them. They turned into Twenty-fifth 
 Street, and stopped at Trinity Chapel. She entered the 
 church leaning on the arm of an old man her father, I 
 suppose. I followed. There was an immense crowd await 
 ing the entrance of the bride. It seemed as though all 
 New York knew of the wicked act that was about to be 
 committed, while I had been kept in ignorance. I pushed 
 forward as near as I could to the chancel, and whom do 
 you think I saw standing there with his best man await 
 ing the entrance of my beloved ? Whom do you think 
 I saw ? Miss Henschel, you are an innocent -minded girl ; 
 the contaminations of the world have not touched you. 
 You are one of those pure spirits that think no evil. As 
 I looked at him I felt, in all their force, the words of the 
 poet, that 
 
 * Sharper than a serpent s tooth it is 
 To have a thankless child. 
 
 To be sure, he is not my child ; he is only my nephew. 
 Jack Oldmixon, my poor brother s son, is the man who 
 has robbed me ; but the words spoken by old King Lear 
 lose none of their force, even though the miscreant be a 
 nephew instead of a son." 
 
 " But did you know nothing of all this ?" said Barbara. 
 "Is it possible that your nephew would get married 
 without letting you know anything about it ? 
 
 "I knew he was going to be married. I ve talked 
 the matter over with him half a dozen times ; but I had 
 no idea that when he told me he was going to marry 
 Miss Camilla "White that she was the object of my heart s 
 desire. White is a common enough name. I know 
 fifty Whites." 
 
 " But surely," rejoined Barbara, who had now suffi 
 ciently obtained control of herself to converse on the 
 2* 
 
34 ME. OLDM1XON. 
 
 subject, " lie did not know that you were in love with 
 the lady !" 
 
 " Of course he did not ! How could he ? I never 
 mentioned her name to him." 
 
 il Then I don t think you ought to he angry with 
 him." 
 
 " That seems to he very logical, Miss Henschei ; but 
 what has logic to do with love ? The more love the 
 less logic. Now, as in my case there was more love 
 than had ever existed before in any similar case, there is 
 an absolute absence of logic. Jack owes everything he 
 has in this world to me. His future is in my hands, 
 and I am going to punish him. 
 
 * I hate ingratitude more in a man 
 Than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness, 
 Or any taint of vice. 
 
 " I went home at once, determined to let him feel the 
 lion s claws, and I altered my will, so that, instead of get 
 ting a half a million when 1 die, he will get exactly 
 nothing. Nothing that is, but one dollar." 
 
 16 Oh, you are too hard on him !" exclaimed Barbara, 
 whose sympathies were now entirely diverted to the 
 young man and his youthful bride. " Doubtless he had 
 taken every means to inform you of what he was about 
 to do ; and if you did not understand, I do not think you 
 should blame him." 
 
 " But, my dear Miss Henschei if you will kindly per 
 mit a broken-hearted man to address you in that paternal 
 phrase have I not already told you that this love is ab 
 solutely devoid of logic? It has nothing to do with 
 reason. It is a matter of the heart alone. To be sure, 
 when I got home and looked over my invitations as a 
 rule I never open them I found the cards from the 
 
A DISCONSOLATE LOVER. 35 
 
 Whites, a note from my nephew, and a pretty little one 
 from Camilla, hoping that I would break through my 
 habit and come, not only to the church, but to the re 
 ception afterward. But all that doesn t make the matter 
 any better. I shall make him feel it. 
 
 Though those that are betrayed 
 Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor 
 Stands in worse case of woe. 
 
 Never shall a cent of mine go into his pocket." 
 
 O Mr. Oldmixon, you will not be so unjust so 
 cruelly unjust !" 
 
 " Yes, I will. That is exactly what 1 will be cruelly 
 unjust. You have used the exact words. From this 
 time on, so far as Jack Oldmixon is concerned, I shall 
 be a changed man. Neither kindness nor justice shall 
 ever find a place in my bosom" striking his breast over 
 his heart as he spoke " for that traitor, that robber, 
 that wolf in sheep s clothing ! The well-spring of be 
 nevolence that bubbled in my heart for him is frozen 
 deep down to its very source. He will starve, I am 
 happy to say, if I cut off his allowance and cut it off 
 1 shall." 
 
 " I am very sorry," said Barbara, rising as though to 
 leave the room. " 1 suppose he loves her with all his 
 heart. Poor fellow ! 1 wish I could help him." 
 
 "And is all your sorrow for him?" cried Mr. Old 
 mixon, also rising. " Have you none for me ? He has 
 been victorious. I am defeated, heart-broken, and yet 
 you lavish your pity on him ! I must confess, Miss Hen- 
 schel, that I expected something different from you. " 
 
 "I feel sorry for you," replied Barbara, who now 
 brought her good sense to bear on the subject, and who 
 thought that Mr. Oldmixon s absurd conduct and ideas 
 
36 ME. OLDMIXO^. 
 
 should not be allowed to pass as though, she approved 
 them, " for 1 think you acted very foolishly. You 
 never told the lady that you cared for her ; your nephew 
 informed you of his attachment, and then, when you 
 accidentally find that you are both in love with the same 
 woman, you unjustly blame him, and you announce your 
 intention to treat him cruelly. It appears to me, too," 
 she added, " that that " 
 
 " Out with it !" interrupted Mr. Oldmixon. " You 
 think he is better suited for her on account of age, and 
 perhaps you would also have said intellect, than I am. 
 I admit it all. I am seventy-five he is twenty-eight. 
 .He is of sound mind. I am of unsound mind, or at 
 least queer, cranky, off my balance, or, to use a more 
 polite and scientific term, eccentric. Yes, he is better 
 suited to her than I am. His conduct throughout the 
 whole affair has been excellent, and mine has been ab 
 surd ; but, as 1 told you, love is not a matter of logic, and 
 I m going to disinherit him as sure as my name is Victor 
 Constantine Oldmixon ; and I have documentary evi 
 dence of the strongest character that that is my real ap 
 pellation. I shall leave the whole of my fortune to my 
 other nephew, Hogarth Oldmixon, and to one other per 
 son, in equal parts, share and share alike ; and Mr. Jack 
 shall not have enough to buy him a coffin. Hogarth is 
 a wild fellow, and I had not intended to give him a cent. 
 I ve altered my will so far as Jack is concerned, for 1 did 
 not know but that I might die to-night all the Oldmix- 
 ons die in their sleep, unless they are shot or hanged 
 or commit suicide and I wanted to make sure of him. 
 If I die to-night my whole estate will go to a new so 
 ciety that I have established The Society for the 
 Relief of the Widows and Orphans of Deceased Plumb- 
 
A DISCONSOLATE LOVEK. 37 
 
 ers ; but if I live till to-morrow I ll make a new will 
 such as I just mentioned." 
 
 " Is your other nephew an honorable man ?" inquired 
 Barbara, while Mr. Oldmixon, in his agitation, walked up 
 and down the floor, slashing his legs with his cane. 
 
 i i Honorable ! Yes, I suppose so ! Honorable enough 
 for this world, at any rate. To be sure, he drinks and 
 gambles and runs into debts that he can t pay, and does 
 other little things of the kind. But why do you ask ? 
 What has honorable got to do with it ?" 
 
 1 Only, answered Barbara, i if he is an honorable 
 man he will not take his brother s fortune, when he knows 
 how unjustly you have treated him." 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Mr. Oldmixon. " You 
 don t know Hogarth, that s clear. He d take it if every 
 piece of gold was lying on the eyelids of my corpse. So 
 that he gets money he doesn t care where it comes from. 
 1 had a thousand dollars stolen out of my room a year or 
 so ago, and I am very sure that Hogarth Oldmixon was 
 the thief." 
 
 " And that is the man," exclaimed Barbara, indig 
 nantly, " you are going to reward with the fortune that 
 ought to go to his honest and honorable brother ! Mr. 
 Oldmixon, I am ashamed of you ! Yes, ashamed of you ! 
 Good-morning !" and she moved toward the door, evi 
 dently with the intention of ending the interview by leav 
 ing her visitor alone. 
 
 " Stop, Miss Henschel ! For Heaven s sake, stop ! I 
 have not told you all yet ; and the fact is," he continued, 
 as Barbara stood by the door with her hand on the knob, 
 " 1 must ask your forgiveness for having slightly misled 
 you. The nephew who stole my treasure from under 
 my very nose is the same one that took my money. It s 
 
38 MR. OLDMIXOl*. 
 
 the drunken, worthless, gambling fellow, Hogarth, 
 whereas Jack is as innocent as a babe. It s Hogarth I m 
 going to disinherit. Jack I disinherited long ago. Now 
 I m going to reverse the proceeding. But, of course, it 
 would be just as cruel and unjust to poor Hogarth to de 
 prive him of his fortune for marrying the woman I loved 
 as it would have been to cut Jack off, eh ?" 
 
 As Mr. Oldmixon uttered these last words he looked 
 at Barbara with a degree of sharpness in his expression 
 that was something of a revelation to her. What did he 
 mean ? Why had he come to her with this false story, 
 and then with a correction that he said embodied the 
 truth ? Was the whole account only the delusion of a 
 lunatic ? What was her opinion to him ? Why should 
 she be called upon to judge between the two nephews ? 
 All these questions, and others, too, suggested themselves 
 to her, and to none of them could she give answers that 
 were satisfactory to herself. She was in the midst of 
 her cogitations when Mr. Oldmixon s voice again struck 
 upon her ears. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 A FAMILY PICTURE. 
 
 "I SUPPOSE, Miss Ilenscliel," said Mr. Oldmixon, 
 coming up to Barbara and standing by her side, his head 
 scarcely reaching above her shoulder " I suppose that a 
 bad man can be treated unjustly as well as a good one, 
 eh ? An act that would be cruel and unfair to a model 
 of all the heavenly virtues would be just as cruel and 
 unfair if committed against a son of Belial, eh ? You 
 would advise me, then, not to disinherit this blackguard 
 that broke his poor mother s heart, stole my money, is 
 drunk nearly all the time, is the associate of the vilest 
 men in the city, and has now married a lovely girl upon 
 -whom I had placed my affections ? What is sauce for 
 the goose is sauce for the gander, eh ? 
 
 "You have already shown me, Mr. Oldmixon," an 
 swered Barbara, " that my opinion has no influence with 
 you. It is scarcely worth while, therefore, for me to say 
 anything more. Please allow me to go." 
 
 " No, not yet, please ! 1 rely on you, Miss Henschel, 
 to help me with your clear judgment, based, as it will 
 be, on such power of comprehension as few, in my opin 
 ion, possess. You will kindly call to mind that when 1 
 first had the pleasure of meeting you I took advantage 
 of the occasion to indulge in a little philosophical dis 
 play. If I have a weakness for anything, it is philoso, 
 phy. Well, your answers to my interrogatories were so 
 
40 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 exactly in accordance with my own views that I said to 
 myself, Here is a woman who lias learned how to 
 make use of her brain. I must not lose sight of her, for 
 perhaps some time or other I may want to use her. 
 The time has come sooner than I expected. I want to 
 use you just as I would use a microscope or a telescope, 
 or a fine chemical balance to enable me to get at a result 
 as nearly perfect as may be. Now, kindly allow me to 
 state the case without all the non-essential details that 
 may, by their obtrusiveness, interfere with the power to 
 comprehend and, consequently, with the ability to 
 judge, and 1 pledge myself, in advance, to abide by 
 your decision and to carry it out in all its details with the 
 utmost fidelity." 
 
 Barbara was troubled. "What right had this man to 
 come to her with his disputes, and his love affairs, and 
 his nephews, and put upon her the responsibility of dis 
 posing of his estate ? For a moment she felt indignant ; 
 but then she soon recognized the fact that she had en 
 couraged him already to the extent of warranting him in 
 asking her to go farther. In his misstatement of the 
 facts she saw, or thought she saw, that his prejudices 
 were all in favor of the wicked nephew, to whom he had 
 already given by his will the whole of his estate. It was 
 easy for her to perceive that this was the one whom, in 
 spite of his badness, Mr. Oldmixon loved. Probably 
 there were some good qualities about the young man 
 that the other nephew did not possess ; but she had 
 already seen sufficient of Mr. Oldmixon to cause her to 
 form the opinion that his mind was of so badly balanced 
 a character that he would be extremely likely in any 
 given case to do exactly the opposite of what ninety-nine 
 men in a hundred of normal mental organization would 
 
A FAMILY PICTURE. 41 
 
 do under like circumstances. In a moment of irritation 
 he had gone home from the church and had altered his 
 will ; but why had he come to her with a misstatement of 
 the facts of the case ? She felt angry that he should 
 have thus played upon her, and she at once determined 
 that she would express no further opinion in regard to 
 the matter till he had given her a satisfactory explanation 
 of his conduct. At the same time she was forced to 
 admit that there was a strong possibility that the whole 
 story was manufactured either from a very small 
 groundwork of fact, or without there being the slightest 
 element of truth in its composition. She did not take 
 long to make up her mind. There was always a degree 
 of directness in Barbara s conduct that was one of the 
 strongest marks of the integrity of her mind and nervous 
 system. She thought promptly, as well as with perspic 
 uity and force. 
 
 " Mr. Oldmixon," she said, " I do not think you have 
 treated me with entire frankness. You appear to me to 
 have endeavored and with success, too to lead me into 
 a trap. You have obtained from me an opinion which, 
 as you now admit, was based upon erroneous premises 
 intentionally erroneous that is, false premises given me 
 by you. 1 don t like such treatment, and unless you can 
 explain your conduct to my satisfaction I shall certainly 
 leave you to settle your troubles in your own way." 
 
 " And you would do exactly right if you did. But 
 mine, I respectfully submit, is not a case for justice so 
 much as it is one in which mercy should be exercised. 
 I admit that I was wrong, and 1 throw myself entirely 
 on your charity and forbearance. Besides, think of the 
 opportunity now given you of doing a service in the 
 cause of fair-dealing." 
 
42 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 " But why did you place the matter before me in a 
 false light ?" said Barbara, adhering to the point she had 
 made. " 1 do not see the necessity for such a pro 
 cedure. I like to be treated frankly." 
 
 "1 will tell you, Miss Ilenschel," replied Mr. Old- 
 mixon, lowering his voice almost to a whisper. " 1 was 
 a little in doubt relative to the correctness of the motive 
 that had actuated me in changing my will. I knew that 
 that worthless scamp would be left out in the cold ; but 
 when I came to think the matter over I was afraid that 
 the manner in which he had treated me was not the cause 
 that should have moved me to alter my intentions. I 
 thought, therefore, that 1 would make his case out to 
 you as that of a thoroughly good young man, knowing 
 that if your opinion was for me from the aspect of the 
 case I should give you, that it would be still more in my 
 favor when the matter was placed correctly before you. 
 But you decided against me, very much to my surprise, 
 and notwithstanding my repeated assertions that there 
 was no logic in the affair. Consequently, unless you will 
 hear me further as I have now determined to be guided 
 by you I shall go home and write a new Will, restoring 
 that wretch to his former position as my heir, and leav 
 ing his good, noble-hearted, and honorable brother out 
 in the cold without a dollar to bless himself with. Now, 
 what do you think of that 2 
 
 " It seems to me," answered Barbara, " that you are 
 a very unjust man. "Why did you make such a will, in 
 the first place ?" 
 
 " Because 1 have no sense of justice in me. You are 
 entirely right when you say that 1 am an unjust man ; I 
 am governed entirely by feeling and impulse. That is 
 why 1 came to you. I want justice ; having none in 
 
A FAMILY PICTUEE. 43 
 
 my own composition, I ask you for it. Look at the mat 
 ter, therefore, with your sense of truth, and decide for 
 me, according to the principles of justice retributive or 
 tempered with mercy, as you. may think best adapted to 
 the case in question. 
 
 " State the case to me, Mr. Oldmixon," said Barbara, 
 with an awakened interest. " You shall have my opin 
 ion, and you can then do as you see fit. " 
 
 " Thanks ; I shall do exactly as you say. Now, 
 listen ! But won t you sit down again ? Allow me !" 
 And Mr. Oldmixon brought the chair that she had just 
 vacated to her ; and then, placing his own beside it, sat 
 down after her, however and resumed his recital. 
 
 " As I said just now" beginning again to strike his 
 shoes with his cane as he spoke " I did a very unjust 
 thing when I made a will leaving everything 1 have in 
 the world to my nephew Hogarth, and nothing whatever 
 to my other nephew, Jack ; but 1 did not act without 
 reasons, although, as you will doubtless perceive, they 
 were of a very inadequate character. They are both the 
 sons of my only brother, Morley Oldmixon, who was 
 killed in a duel, many years ago, that he had himself 
 provoked. Jack is the elder of the two by three years, 
 but he takes after his mother ; there does not, in fact, 
 seem to be a bit of the Oldmixon stock about him, except 
 his name. Hogarth is, however, a true scion of our 
 house in appearance and in character. "We were all a 
 rather bad lot, I think. The founder of the house is 
 said to have been a pirate ; one of my ancestors was be 
 headed for treason ; another was burnt at the stake 
 for heresy ; another broken on the wheel for highway 
 robbery in France ; others have suffered the penal 
 ties of the law in various ways ; and Hogarth, if he 
 
44 ME. OLDMIXOtf. 
 
 lias a fair chance, will certainly be hanged. I myself 
 am a somewhat irregular sort of an individual, as you 
 probably have already perceived ; but in me the strain 
 has been modified by the fact that my mother was the 
 descendant of a race that has always been noted for 
 their virtues, and was herself the daughter of a bishop. 
 I am not, therefore, quite so bad as some of my an 
 cestors. 
 
 " We have always, however, notwithstanding the black 
 sheep in the family, been noted for our pride of ancestry 
 and for a tendency to stick to our villainous members 
 through thick and thin ; to protect them by all the means 
 at our disposal, and to lavish upon them all the good 
 gifts that it might be in our power to bestow. 
 
 " In pursuance of this inherent trait of character, so 
 soon as the two boys had begun to develop, and I saw 
 that Jack was a model of propriety and excellence in 
 everything, and that Hogarth was a combination of Jack 
 Sheppard, Captain Kidd, and the King of Ashantee, I 
 made my will in his favor." 
 
 " It was a wicked thing for you to do !" exclaimed 
 Barbara, indignantly. " Very wicked and very unjust. " 
 
 " Ah ! that is exactly what 1 wanted you to say. Now, 
 I have got an expression of opinion from you, Miss Hen- 
 Bchel, that will warrant me in entirely reversing the pro 
 visions of my will. To-morrow morning I shall go to 
 my lawyer and 1 shall instruct him to draw up another 
 will, in which all my real and personal estate, of every 
 nature and description, shall be given to Jack Oldmixon, 
 under a certain condition, while Hogarth shall receive 
 the munificent sum of one dollar for the purpose of pur 
 chasing a rope with which to hang himself. I have 
 heretofore given him an allowance of three thousand 
 
A FAMILY PICTURE. 45 
 
 dollars a year, while I have left Jack to shift for himself. 
 I shall change all that, too." 
 
 " But," asked Barbara, " is your younger nephew so 
 very bad as you represent ? Are you quite sure that you 
 have not, under the influence of the irritation you feel 
 at his marriage, unconsciously exaggerated his faults ?" 
 
 " Oh, there s no mistake on that point. Why, it was 
 exactly on account of his wickedness that I made him my 
 heir. 1 have already mentioned to you some of his acts. 
 I could make your hair stand on end if I were to specify 
 to you the tenth part of his crimes, not merely offences 
 against good order and decency, but actual violations of 
 law. No, he is hopelessly and irreclaimably bad." 
 
 " And is your elder nephew altogether different ?" she 
 inquired, anxiously, for she felt now the weight of re 
 sponsibility that rested upon her, though still not by any 
 means entirely convinced that Mr. Oldmixon was not a 
 veritable lunatic. 
 
 " As different as night is from day. Jack is tall, 
 Hogarth is short ; Jack is dark, Hogarth is fair ; Jack 
 is handsome, Hogarth is as ugly as the devil ; Jack is 
 honest, honorable, frank, and manly ; Hogarth is a thief, 
 a liar, a hypocrite, and a coward ; Jack works for his 
 living, and will, without aid from any one, rise to great 
 ness ; Hogarth never did a useful piece of labor in his 
 life, and if he does not die from disease induced by his 
 excesses, will certainly be hanged. Jack is beloved by 
 every one that knows him ; Hogarth is despised and 
 hated by all respectable people as soon as he reveals his 
 true character." 
 
 * l You did an awful wrong when you deserted the good 
 nephew for the bad one. 
 
 " That s right, give it to me ; regard yourself, Miss 
 
46 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 Henschel, as a physician, and me as a great big, disgust 
 ing ulcer. Don t treat me with molasses when I require 
 aqua-fortis. Say to me, in the language of the poet, 
 
 Thou shalt be whipped with wire and stand in brine, 
 Smarting in lingering pickle. 
 
 I deserve all you can say. But tell me in a few words, 
 please ; do you think 1 ought to change my will ?" 
 
 " If what you have told me is true, I think the sooner 
 you alter it the better. Such injustice ought not to 
 stand a moment longer than can be helped. " 
 
 " And you give that opinion, Miss Henschel, alto 
 gether uninfluenced by the fact that the wretch Hogarth 
 stole my beloved away from me ?" 
 
 " I give it upon the information of his character that 
 you have just communicated to me. If what you say is 
 true, he must be a perfect monster. But how could he 
 succeed in ingratiating himself into the favor of the lady 
 whom you tell me he has just married ?" 
 
 "Oh, he s the most specious rascal that ever lived ! 
 You may depend upon it that he has brought to bear 
 upon her all his wiles and arts, and that she is thoroughly 
 deceived in regard to his character. Doubtless she 
 thinks him a paragon of all that is good and virtuous. 
 My word for it, she will not live with him a month. 
 My poor Camilla ! Little does she know the sorrow that 
 is in store for her. But, my dear Miss Henschel, you 
 have taken a load from my mind. I will leave you now, 
 with many heartfelt thanks for your goodness, and to 
 morrow morning the wrong shall be undone ; 1 begin to 
 feel as though the Oldmixon tendencies were being 
 dragged out of me, and I can only attribute the change 
 to your influence. The moment my eyes rested upon 
 
A FAMILY PICTUEE. 47 
 
 you for the first time, I said to myself, There is the 
 woman that can mould me into any form she pleases. 
 Don t reply, I beg of you" seeing that Barbara was 
 about to speak. " Good-morning ! Ah, my bird ! I 
 must not forget that ( emblem of stainless purity that 
 you have made worthy to stand amid the productions of 
 artistic Paris or Eome. Good-by ! I will, with your 
 permission, call again." With which words Mr. Old- 
 mixon, with his bird in one hand, unlocked the street 
 door with the other, and passing out of the house entered 
 his carriage, and, after speaking a word or two to the 
 coachman, was driven rapidly up-town. 
 
 To say that Barbara was fully impressed with a sense 
 of the importance of the interview she had just had, 
 would very inadequately express the state of her feel 
 ings. From whatever point she considered it, she saw 
 that it involved possibilities that she scarcely felt com 
 petent to estimate at that moment at their full value. 
 That Mr. Oldmixon was of an erratic turn of mind was 
 very evident ; but he appeared to have a full knowledge 
 of what he wanted and intended to do. That he would 
 come to her with such a story as that that he had told, 
 knowing it to be false, was entirely out of the question. 
 There was no room for doubting his sincerity ; there had 
 been too much emotional disturbance for that. She had 
 seen his tears, his agitation, the change in his voice, and 
 the difficulty with which at times he had appeared to get 
 his breath. She saw, too, how, under the influence of 
 the vapor that he had inhaled the strong odor of which 
 still remained in the room he had become more com 
 posed and able to go on with his recital. 
 
 Besides, the account he had given was too systematic 
 and consistent to be false. She saw very clearly how 
 
48 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 Mr. Oldmixon had impressed his own individuality on 
 his narrative ; she saw that there were many inferences 
 that he had drawn for which there was probably no war 
 rant ; and these were the very strongest indications that 
 his mind was eccentric, to a degree almost reaching a 
 state of absolute insanity. Thus his egregious vanity 
 was shown in the opinion he had expressed that he might 
 at any time on the morning of Miss White s wedding 
 with his nephew have himself become the bridegroom 
 had he been aware of what was going on and had de 
 clared his love for her. The same emotion had cropped 
 out in all that he had said, even when he had requested 
 her to strike hard and spare not, and when he had 
 bragged of the infamy that had been associated with 
 many members of his family. He seemed to revel in 
 the depravity of his nephew Hogarth, and to be proud 
 of the fact that there was little probability of finding his 
 equal in wickedness. 
 
 But apart from this mental peculiarity and the extreme 
 susceptibility to the attractions of women that he exhib 
 ited, there did not appear to be any defects in Mr. Old- 
 mixon s intellectual processes. His methods of reason 
 ing seemed to her to be exact, if they were somewhat 
 peculiar. They might be, and doubtless were, marked 
 by his individual idiosyncrasies ; but there was nothing 
 in them to indicate that he did not possess a mind that 
 was within the normal limits of soundness, however 
 irregular it might be. His facts were stated coherently 
 and with a degree of precision and force that carried 
 conviction with their enunciation, and the impression of 
 their truth was not essentially weakened by the admis 
 sion he had voluntarily made, that he had deceived her 
 in regard to the nephew who had interfered with the 
 
A FAMILY PICTURE. 49 
 
 course of his love for Miss Camilla White ; for the de 
 ception had been perpetrated with an object, and was 
 only another evidence of his shrewdness. 
 
 But what did it all mean ? she asked herself. Why 
 had Mr. Oldmixon come to her to be the repository of 
 his secrets and to aid him in his schemes for and against 
 his nephews ? He had said that he had been attracted 
 by the knowledge of philosophy that she had displayed 
 during his first interview with her a few days previously ; 
 but she was not conscious of having shown that she pos 
 sessed any such knowledge. Barbara had received a 
 good education, though I am afraid that the majority of 
 the young-lady graduates of our colleges would have 
 turned up their sophomorically intellectual noses at the 
 statement of the extent of her scholastic acquirements. 
 The most important educational feature of Barbara s 
 mental development was, that she had learned how to 
 think ; whereas, the young-lady graduates aforesaid are, 
 in general, supremely ignorant of that cerebral process. 
 When she was about twelve years of age a sister of her 
 father s, Fraulein Ernestine Henschel, who had been a 
 school-teacher in Copenhagen, came over to America, at 
 her brother s request, to take the care of his household, 
 his wife having died a few months previously. This 
 lady was thoroughly acquainted with the science of 
 pedagogics, having received a very complete course of 
 instruction in a school especially established in Copen 
 hagen by the queen for the education of young women 
 desirous of becoming teachers. Her aunt took charge, 
 not only of her brother s household establishment, which, 
 not being extensive, required very little of her time, but 
 of Barbara s education as well, and she had kept it till 
 Hans Callisen followed her from Denmark, married her, 
 
50 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 and took her to Minnesota when she had nearly reached 
 her fortieth year. But by that time Barbara had had 
 the benefit of her aunt s knowledge and training for six 
 years, till she was eighteen years of age, in fact ; and 
 though she could neither be said to have received what 
 is called an ornamental education, nor one like that given 
 to young women at some of our institutions devoted to 
 the enlightenment of the female mind, she had laid in a 
 stock of solid information in the languages and sciences 
 that not one graduate of Macassar College in a hundred 
 can pretend to possessing. Her profession as a taxider 
 mist had given her a love for zoology, and she had given 
 special attention not only to this branch of knowledge, 
 but to all other departments of natural history. She 
 was a good botanist and mineralogist, in addition to hav 
 ing a practical acquaintance with the science of living 
 beings that would have put many a college professor to 
 the blush. 
 
 But as to philosophy, she was about as much acquainted 
 with it as was the gentleman with prose, which he 
 found, to his surprise, he had been speaking all his life. 
 She had never read a line of Plato, or Spinoza, or Kant, 
 or Hegel, or even of Emerson. In fact, she had never, 
 so far as she could have told, looked into a work on 
 metaphysics or psychology, and she knew absolutely 
 nothing of the many theories of the mind that ingenious 
 Frenchmen like Descartes, or Englishmen like Locke, or 
 Scotchmen like Hamilton, had promulgated. But for all 
 this, it would not be correct to say that she was ignorant 
 of mental philosophy. Indeed, she knew a good deal 
 about it ; but she had acquired her knowledge not by 
 studying the writings of others, but by practising that 
 habit of introspection which, sooner or later, all thinking 
 
A FAMILY PICTURE. 51 
 
 people acquire, and by which more is often to be learned 
 relative to the operations of the human mind than is to 
 be acquired from books. 
 
 Bringing to bear, as well as she could in a brief time 
 and in her agitated condition, the experience she had 
 gained by her self-examinations, she came to the conclu 
 sion that Mr. Oldmixon had really been moved by a de 
 sire to obtain her opinion, having probably some doubt 
 relative to his ability to judge correctly in a matter in 
 which his feelings were involved. She called to mind 
 the earnestness of his speech and the sharpness of his 
 facial expression when he questioned her, just after he 
 had informed her of the erroneous impression he had 
 given her relative to the two nephews. She felt sure, 
 too, that he would act in accordance with the views she 
 had expressed, and she began to experience a sense of 
 the responsibility she had incurred in advising him to 
 change his will. What if the nephew Hogarth were 
 neither so bad as his uncle had depicted him, nor Jack 
 so good ? Then the guilt of an unjust act if guilt there 
 were would not rest on her shoulders. She had acted in 
 accordance with assertions that she had a right to believe 
 were true. If they were true, then she was satisfied 
 with the part she had taken. 
 
 She looked at the clock that hung on the wall over the 
 desk in the office. It was after twelve. Mr. Oldmixon 
 had kept her over half an hour from her work, and she 
 had yet a good deal to do before she could honestly say 
 that she had done a day s labor. She therefore went 
 into the back room, where her father, assisted by Peter, 
 was doing the first part of the work required in the 
 mounting of a fine specimen of that rare animal, the 
 silver fox. 
 
52 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 " Well, Barbara !" exclaimed the old man, as she 
 made her appearance, "if you had thought Mr. Old- 
 mixon was going to keep you nearly three quarters of an 
 hour over his bird, you would have charged him ten dol 
 lars for it, wouldn t you ?" 
 
 " He did not keep me about the bird, father," she 
 answered. " It was about something of much more im 
 portance." 
 
 " Another order, I suppose," said Mr. Henschel, who 
 under all circumstances had that keen eye to business 
 and profit that the Scandinavian generally displays. 
 
 " No ; he said nothing on the subject. I don t think 
 he has any more work at present. But he had a good 
 deal to say about some family matters, and he asked my 
 advice. To-night I ll ask you to tell me whether I did 
 right or not." 
 
 " Ah ! my dear, you know more about such things 
 than I do. But now I ll get you to give a little shaping 
 to this fox, and Peter can go back to the office. It s a 
 rare specimen of an animal that is every day becoming 
 rarer. 1 suppose this skin is worth three hundred dollars. 
 Did you ever see anything so beautiful ? Now, the owner 
 of this is a man after my own heart. He d rather have 
 it mounted as a work of art than sell it to some furrier 
 to cut up into muffs and collars and such things for rich 
 women to wear." 
 
 " Who is the owner, father ?" 
 
 " Oh, I don t know. I didn t ask his name. He said 
 he d send or call for it next week ; but he didn t come in 
 a carriage, and he didn t look as if he had any more 
 money than he wanted." 
 
 " It s a beautiful specimen ; the finest I ever saw." 
 
 " Yes, the very finest. I offered him three hundred 
 
A FAMILY PICTURE. 53 
 
 dollars for it, but he said no ; he had killed it himself 
 last winter while with the Hudson s Bay Company, and 
 he wouldn t sell it. Now, my dear, I leave it to you to 
 put the proper expression into its face and attitude. lie- 
 member, that in its natural state it s the slyest of all of 
 its kind. However, I can t tell you anything about the 
 habits of animals that you don t know. It s your knowl 
 edge on this subject that makes you the true artist that 
 you are and the best taxidermist in this country, if not in 
 the world." 
 
CHAPTER IY. 
 
 FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 
 
 THE house occupied by Mr. Ilenschel as his residence 
 and place of business, although not situated in a part of 
 New York that would have been called fashionable, was, 
 nevertheless, in one that was eminently respectable. 
 Many years ago it had been occupied by well-to-do 
 tradesmen, who lived in comfort, if not in luxury ; but in 
 the course of time, with the constantly increasing demands 
 of trade, most of the residences had been altered so as 
 the better to adapt them to the newer purposes for which 
 they were required. It was in one of these that the 
 Henschels lived. 
 
 The lower floor was entirely, with the exception of the 
 kitchen situated at the extreme rear of the building de 
 voted to the business of taxidermy. The front room, 
 which opened directly upon the street, served as an office 
 and show-room. It was lined with glass cases, and in 
 them were contained some of the most choice specimens 
 of his and his daughter s skill ; for they not only mounted 
 animals to order, but did a good business by keeping a 
 stock on hand to supply the wants of museums in various 
 parts of the country, or of individuals looking for speci 
 mens of birds or animals to place in their halls, libraries, 
 or dining-rooms. Daring one year he had received orders 
 for nearly three hundred buffalo, elk, antelope, mountain 
 
FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 55 
 
 slieep, and other heads, from gentlemen who wished to 
 use them to ornament the walls of their houses. 
 
 In addition to the work of mounting animals, Mr. 
 Ilenschel had a good deal to do in the way of furnishing 
 collections in botany, mineralogy, and conchology to 
 colleges, academies, and private persons. He was well 
 known to scientific men in all parts of the civilized world, 
 and was held in high esteem by them. They took great 
 pleasure, many of them, in sending him duplicates of the 
 specimens in natural history that they had collected in 
 their explorations, or had received in exchange, and he, in 
 his turn, had given them many valuable and interesting 
 additions to their collections, that he had received from 
 seafaring men, with whom he had always kept on good 
 terms, and who were in the habit of bringing him the 
 curiosities that they had picked up in various parts of the 
 world. 
 
 It is impossible for a taxidermist not to acquire some 
 knowledge of natural history. It generally happens, 
 however, that his acquirements in this direction do not ex 
 tend beyond those practical points that are gathered from 
 the collectors and scientific persons with whom he comes 
 in contact. It was very different, however, with Mr. 
 Ilenschel, as we have seen it was with his daughter. From 
 the time when he was a boy and an apprentice to old 
 Kasmus Olafsen, the learned taxidermist of Copenhagen, 
 he had studied from books, and had thus obtained a knowl 
 edge of the science that the mere mounting of the animals 
 that came under his hands would never have given him. 
 These, it is true, served him in good stead in his studies, 
 for he was enabled to use them for purposes of iden 
 tification ; but they could never have taught him the 
 classification and internal structure of organic beings. 
 
56 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 Besides books, lie had the advantage of much personal 
 instruction from Professor Bording, who not only held a 
 high position in the University, but was, besides, a knight 
 of the order of Daneborg. This learned man took a great 
 interest in young Henschel, and not only allowed him to 
 attend his lectures, but gave him, in addition, much private 
 instruction. He introduced him to Thorwaldsen, then 
 in the very zenith of his fame. From this greatest of 
 modern sculptors the young man imbibed that love for 
 art that had always been a governing motive with him. 
 He had, in fact, gone so far as to take lessons in sculpture 
 and to produce two or three works that his master thought 
 gave evidence of his possession of decided talent ; but he 
 soon found that the road to greatness, or even respectable 
 mediocrity in the vocation of a sculptor, was not only long 
 and painful, but that it would be many years before he 
 could rely on it for a pecuniary support. The w r eariness, 
 the anxieties, the disappointments, the rebuffs he could 
 have stood ; but it was necessary for him to live by his 
 labor. So, when a Danish gentleman whom he knew 
 returned from a visit to New York and told him that 
 there was a fine chance in that city for a skilful and ar 
 tistic taxidermist, young Henschel married the pretty 
 peasant girl with whom he had long been in love, and, 
 with less than a hundred dollars in his pocket, started for 
 New York. For a time things went hard with him. 
 Several children were born to him, but they had all died 
 young, till, when he was w T ell advanced in life, Barbara 
 came into the world, different, apparently, in physical con 
 stitution from the others ; for she had always been a vig 
 orous and healthy child, and had grown up into woman 
 hood without ever having had a day s sickness. Her 
 father had often declared with great delight that he had 
 
FATHEK AND DAUGHTER. 57 
 
 never known a day that Barbara could not eat three 
 hearty meals. 
 
 It was very natural that Mr. Henschel should apply to 
 his daughter the principles that had been instilled into 
 him in Denmark. Barbara had, in fact, been reared in an 
 atmosphere of natural science. By the time she could 
 talk she had learned to recognize and to designate by 
 their names the many kinds of animals that were con 
 tinually passing under her observation, and ere long she 
 could classify them into groups from the characteristics 
 that she noticed they possessed. " Pick out all the 
 cats, Barbara," her father would say to her, and then the 
 little girl would go round from case to case and point out 
 the tiger, the panther, the ocelot, the cougar, the lynx. 
 Over the lion she was at first a little puzzled. i He looks 
 like a cat, and he doesn t," she said. " He s got such a 
 big head and so much hair on it ; but his wife " pointing 
 to a lioness that stood by the side of her lord "looks 
 just like a cat. I think all the wives are more like cats 
 than the husbands." Then Mr. Henschel had chucked 
 his wife under the chin. " Do you hear that, my dear ?" 
 he said, laughing heartily. " All the wives are more cat 
 like than the husbands. What a sharp little body she is !" 
 
 By exercises like these little Barbara ere long became an 
 accomplished practical zoologist. As she grew older she 
 began to assist her father in his work, and from the very 
 first she developed an artistic sense that the old man de 
 clared was so delicate, refined, and yet bold, that, if she 
 could have advantages such as had been offered him when 
 he was a boy in Copenhagen, would bring her to the front 
 as one of the leading sculptors of the world. Of course 
 Mr. Henschel was prejudiced in his daughter s favor, and 
 
 hence his opinions of her genius were to be taken with 
 3* 
 
58 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 many grains of allowance ; but for all that, there was no 
 doubt of her having a genuine aptitude for original work. 
 She had modelled several subjects in clay, and had done 
 them so well that they had attracted the marked attention 
 of several artists of her father s acquaintance. One of 
 them an Apache Indian hunting a buffalo, and just in 
 the act of discharging an arrow into the heart of the ani 
 mal as he rides alongside of him on his mustang was so 
 greatly admired for its fidelity to nature, as well as for 
 the life and spirit that she had thrown into the composi 
 tion, that her father was persuaded to have it cast in 
 bronze. In this form it was placed on exhibition at 
 Tiffany s in New York, at Bailey s in Philadelphia, and 
 in like places in other large cities, and a great many were 
 disposed of at fair prices, to the decided aggrandizement 
 of the Ilenschel exchequer. 
 
 It was during a journey that her father made to the 
 West, under the auspices of the Smithsonian Institution, 
 and in which she accompanied him, that she obtained the 
 requisite knowledge from life not only for the modelling 
 of the Apache Indian and the buffalo, but for mounting 
 many of the specimens in natural history that came to her 
 hands. Congress had made an appropriation for construct 
 ing a road from Fort Riley, in Kansas, to Bridgets Pass, 
 in the Rocky Mountains, and the authorities in charge of 
 the Smithsonian Institution, ever alive to the advantages to 
 science to be derived from such expeditions, had obtained 
 authority for Mr. Ilenschel and his daughter to accom 
 pany the engineer party and troops, charged with the 
 laying out and making of the road, for the purpose of 
 collecting specimens of the natural history of the region 
 of country through which the route passed. This jour 
 ney had been of the utmost service to Barbara in more 
 
FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 59 
 
 than one respect. It had enlarged her ideas, given her 
 an acquaintance with nature in some of its wildest forms, 
 which she could otherwise never have obtained, rendered 
 her more self-reliant than she had ever been before, and 
 put the finish to her physical organization, which, strong 
 though it had been, was now rendered doubly so by the life 
 in the open air for nearly six months, a horseback jour 
 ney of nearly two thousand miles, and that abstraction 
 from the requirements of civilization which always invig 
 orates those upon whom its influence is brought to bear. 
 Barbara was about eighteen years of age when this 
 journey was taken. Since her return her father had con 
 stantly urged upon her the advantages that would accrue 
 to her were she to devote herself exclusively to sculpture 
 and modelling ; but she, knowing how necessary she was 
 to him so long as he continued to carry on the business 
 of a taxidermist, had resisted all his importunities. He 
 was old ; it was not likely that, in the course of nature, he 
 would live many years longer ; there was now plenty of 
 work for them, and a good income was derived from their 
 joint labors ; but Barbara knew that if she retired from 
 the practical part of the business that orders would fall off. 
 It was just as her father had said. The people who re 
 quired work done in taxidermy were well aware that 
 Barbara was the artistic head of the establishment, and 
 they wanted her to superintend the mounting of their spec 
 imens. So far as she herself was concerned, nothing 
 would have given her more pleasure than to have entered 
 definitely upon an artist s career such as her father de 
 sired for her. On the morning that she is introduced to 
 the reader he had spoken more openly upon the subject 
 and more to the point than ever before. She had pre 
 viously known very little in regard to his financial condi- 
 
60 
 
 MR. OLDMIXOTsT. 
 
 tion. She knew, however, that lie must have laid by 
 enough to place him and herself above want ; but now she 
 was well aware, from her acquaintance with his modes 
 of speech, that he was at least a moderately wealthy man. 
 When he admitted that he had enough to live on without 
 work, and at the same time give her all the opportunities 
 requisite for her obtaining proficiency in the art that he 
 wished her to adopt as a profession, it meant that he had 
 accumulated sufficient of this world s goods to satisfy his 
 ambition in that direction. She knew that he was of an 
 acquisitive disposition. The only fault she had ever been 
 able to detect in him was a slight tendency to avarice and 
 miserliness. This was not possessed to an extent that ren 
 dered him an object of mark among those who knew him ; 
 but occasionally, as the reader has already doubtless per 
 ceived, it cropped out. Yes, if he was willing to stop 
 work and spend a small fortune to place her favorably 
 before the world as an artist, he must be rich. 
 
 It would be an easy thing to get rid of the business 
 upon favorable terms. Peter, whose surname was Swain, 
 had been with them in the capacity of an assistant and 
 man of all work for nearly ten years. He had very little 
 money of his own, but he had a wealthy friend who was 
 willing to furnish the requisite capital for the purchase 
 of the stand and the good- will as a set-off to his knowl 
 edge and time. Mr. Dibble, the gentleman referred to, 
 had inspected the premises and examined the books, and 
 had arrived at the conclusion that the fifty thousand 
 dollars required for the purchase-money would yield 
 over fourteen per cent profit, which, if he gave six to 
 Peter, would leave him a net income of eight per cent. 
 Peter, however, had other views, that were somewhat an 
 tagonistic to those of Mr. Dibble. The names of " Dib- 
 
FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 61 
 
 ble and Swain, Taxidermists," would look well in gold 
 letters on a black ground across the front of the house ; 
 but the name of " Peter Swain," or even those of t( ITen- 
 schel and Swain," would look better. Peter had come 
 from central New York when he joined his forces with 
 those of Mr. Henschel. At the time that he is intro 
 duced to the reader he was about twenty- eight years of 
 age, fairly good-looking, and possessed of such an educa 
 tion as the majority of farmers sons in the State of New 
 York pick up from the common schools. He was honest 
 and attentive to his business, and Mr. Henschel had 
 always given him good wages. Peter was, however, 
 ambitious to better his condition, as is every American 
 boy of average intelligence, no matter into what station 
 of life he is born. He wanted to succeed Mr. Henschel 
 when the latter came to retire, and he wanted to be either 
 his own master or to maintain only a nominal connection 
 with the name of Henschel. The only way that he could 
 perceive by which he could accomplish either of these 
 ends was to marry Barbara Henschel. He was not in 
 love with -her ; in fact, such an element as sentiment did 
 not enter into his mental organization. He was a matter- 
 of-fact man, and marriage with him, if he ever married, 
 would be an affair of the head and not of the heart one 
 that would be prompted by intelligence, and not by emo 
 tion. In this respect Peter was not unlike the majority 
 of young people, men or women, who in these times enter 
 into the matrimonial state. 
 
 He had never hinted at such a thing to either Mr. 
 Henschel or Barbara. While he had a very good opinion 
 of himself, he was by no means sure that any advances 
 he might make in the direction in question would be 
 favorably received by either of the parties concerned. 
 
62 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 So far as family went, doubtless his was as good as hers, 
 perhaps better ; but in the matter of their individualities 
 he was not so blind but that he was ready to admit that 
 hers was superior to his, and that when she contemplated 
 marriage she would look for a man of better parts than 
 was he. In fact, so distant did the prospect appear of 
 his being able to accomplish the object that stood high 
 up in his scale of desirable things, that he scarcely vent 
 ured to consider it as within the limits of probability, 
 and had latterly been giving more attention to the culti 
 vation of friendly relations with Mr. Dibble than to mak 
 ing advances to Barbara. He had once tried to place 
 himself in such a position as would, he thought, inevita 
 bly lead to the establishment of more intimate relations 
 between himself and the Henschels than had heretofore 
 existed ; but this attempt had met with such a decided 
 repulse that it had very much the effect upon his wishes 
 that a wet blanket has upon a fire. He lived away from 
 the Henschels, and he had conceived the idea that it 
 would on several accounts be desirable for him to reside 
 with them. There was a nice room on the third floor 
 that would just suit him, and it would be much more 
 comfortable for him to take his meals with them than to 
 eat in the company of the rather irreverent young men 
 who ridiculed his profession and who constituted the band 
 of table boarders of Mrs. Daly s establishment. In his 
 application to Mr. Henschel to be allowed to take up his 
 abode with him he had placed the matter on the grounds 
 of its affording him increased facilities for attending to 
 the business ; and that as the room that he proposed to 
 occupy was empty, the granting of it to him would, with 
 his board, be the means of adding a respectable sum to 
 the income of the Henschel family. 
 
FATHEK AND DAUGHTER. 63 
 
 But Mr. Henschel was very decided in the expression 
 of his indisposition to accede to Peter s views relative to 
 the means of becoming more sociable with his employ 
 er s family. He stated that he and his daughter were in 
 the habit of conversing during their meals on matters 
 that concerned them alone, and that the intrusion of a 
 third party into their family circle would be intolerable. 
 He was, however, kind enough to state that he would 
 consult with Barbara on the subject and ascertain what 
 she had to say about it, though he could not give Peter 
 any ground for hoping that the decision would be re 
 versed. He did lay the matter before his daughter, 
 and her opinion was even more emphatic than that of her 
 father against the desirability of any change in their home 
 arrangements ; thereupon Peter had seen that there was 
 not much prospect of his ever becoming, by marriage, a 
 member of Mr. Henschel s family. But he was a good, 
 honest fellow, who was held in high esteem not only by 
 Mr. Henschel, but by Barbara likewise. He was well 
 acquainted with the art of taxidermy so far as its prac 
 tical details were concerned, but he had never evinced 
 much inclination for the scientific connections of the 
 profession. He was literally an " animal- stuff er," and 
 nothing more. His intentions toward Barbara were, 
 therefore, almost as preposterous as would have been the 
 love of a sailor on a man-of-war for the daughter of his 
 captain. Barbara had the refinement that comes from 
 education and association with educated and refined 
 people. Her father s house was visited by learned men 
 from all parts of the world, and she had been thrown 
 into more or less intimate relations with many of them. 
 She had thus become acquainted with their ideas on 
 many subjects outside of taxidermy and with modes of 
 
64 MR. OLBMIXON. 
 
 thought of which Peter Swain had not the most distant 
 conception. Upon one occasion she had been invited to 
 spend a month during the summer at the sea-shore with 
 Mrs. Lawson, whose husband was professor of mineralogy 
 and geology in the Franklin Scientific School ; and again 
 another month with the family of Professor Senstone, at 
 their country-seat on Cayuga Lake. It was no uncom 
 mon event for ladies whose husbands were of scientific 
 proclivities to invite her to their houses, at which she was 
 always treated with due consideration as a lovely, intel 
 ligent, and good girl, in whose society it was pleasant to 
 be. From the associations thus afforded her, Barbara, 
 without losing in the slightest degree the natural inde 
 pendence of her character, had acquired the polish of 
 manner that can only come from personal communica 
 tions with persons of good breeding. Her father and 
 mother and aunt, though plain people, were not unrefined. 
 They had that intuitive repugnance to coarseness that is 
 so generally met with in the European artisan of the 
 highest class ; and though they might have felt out of 
 place at a court- ball, for instance, they would certainly 
 not have perpetrated, even in the presence of Majesty it 
 self, any act calculated to offend the sensibilities or to 
 interfere with the comfort of the royal guests. Barbara, 
 therefore, had started well, and her opportunities for ac 
 quiring a gentle presence had not been neglected. 
 
 A residence of nearly fifty years in the United States 
 had converted Mr. Henschel into a thoroughgoing Amer 
 ican. He spoke the language with the ease and fluency 
 of an educated native, and often said, laughingly, that he 
 believed Danish was fading out of his memory, as the oc 
 casions for using it were so few and far between. He 
 did not, however, altogether break with the old country. 
 
FATHEK AND DAUGHTER. 65 
 
 He had been, ever since his arrival, a subscriber^ to a 
 Copenhagen newspaper, and he had made two visits to 
 that city and to the little village where he was born. The 
 last one had been undertaken with the idea that he might 
 possibly decide to return to his native land, and there 
 pass the remainder of his days ; but he soon found that 
 his long residence in America had given him ideas and 
 habits entirely inconsistent with those of the people 
 among whom he would have to live, and, moreover, that 
 his old companions were either dead or had ceased to take 
 any pleasure in his society. He had, therefore, returned 
 rather disgusted with Denmark and its people, and de 
 claring that the land of his adoption was good enough 
 for him, and that he hoped that when the time came for 
 him to die, he would be found in the country that had 
 been his home for nearly half a century ; where his 
 children had been born, and where the bones of his dead 
 wife rested. 
 
 From all of which it will doubtless appear to the reader 
 that the father and daughter had much upon which to 
 congratulate themselves. He had been successful far be 
 yond his most sanguine expectations, so far as material 
 prosperity was concerned. The death of his wife and 
 four sons had been heavy blows to him ; but with time the 
 sharpness of them had been blunted, to which result the 
 constant association with his daughter and a community 
 of interests and opinions had essentially contributed. 
 There was very little to disturb the mental equanimity 
 that was such a striking element of his disposition. In 
 fact, there was nothing but one subject that greatly dis 
 turbed him, and that was his ambition that Barbara should 
 become famous. This idea had become a passion with 
 him a somewhat remarkable fact, for it is not often 
 
66 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 that an old man is capable of any very intense develop 
 ment of feeling in a matter that does not intimately con 
 cern liis personal ease and enjoyment. The aged are 
 almost invariably seltish, and Mr. Henschel was no ex 
 ception to the rule, save in the one respect mentioned. 
 So far as his daughter was concerned, he was capable of 
 making any sacrifice within his power to accomplish her 
 well-being and happiness. Her future was the one 
 theme upon which he was never tired of dilating, and he 
 had spoken only the truth when he declared that when 
 he could know that she had acquired the world-wide 
 distinction to which he thought her genius entitled her, 
 he would die content. To put her in the way, so far as 
 he could, by any act or line of conduct, to reach the pin 
 nacle upon which he conceived that she ought to stand, 
 was the one all-absorbing emotion that filled his breast. 
 
CHAPTER Y. 
 
 MAKING A WILL JACK OLDMIXON. 
 
 ME. OLDMIXON was as good as his word. A night s re 
 flection had only tended to make him more fixed in his 
 intention of changing his will. He began, too, to flatter 
 himself that he was really actuated by a sense of right 
 toward one whom he had hitherto shamefully neglected, 
 and of stern justice toward that other, who had never in 
 all his life done anything to deserve the unlimited kind 
 nesses of which he had been the recipient. He had 
 arrived at the point of believing that no feeling of resent 
 ment entered into the matter, and with that facility with 
 which people generally persuade themselves that the 
 thing they desire to do is right, had brought himself to 
 the conviction that whether Hogarth had or had not 
 married Miss "White he would in time, through his own 
 self-communings, have been prompted to act toward the 
 young man exactly as he was now acting. 
 
 " It was only a question of a few days or weeks, or at 
 most months," he said to himself, as he was eating his 
 breakfast at the Lucullus Club on the morning after his 
 conversation with Barbara. " I was rapidly arriving at 
 the knowledge that 1 had made a mistake. This marriage 
 of the scamp has only precipitated matters, that s all." 
 
 He rang the bell that stood on the table. 
 
 " Bring me a morning paper," he said to the waiter 
 that answered the summons. " Any one will do." 
 
ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 " Yes," lie continued, as the man, having brought him 
 a paper, had retired at an intimation that his presence was 
 not required ; " here it is ! 
 
 " < Married on the 4th inst., at Trinity Chapel, New 
 York, by the Rev. Thomas Colightly, Camilla, daughter 
 of Jabez White, Esq., to Hogarth Oldmixon, son of the 
 late Morley Oldmixon, Esq., and nephew of Victor Con- 
 stantine Oldmixon, Esq. 
 
 i The barefaced rascal, to dare to announce himself as 
 my nephew ! Little does he know what s in store for 
 him. I ll give him a lesson in decency if I can t give 
 him one in morality. I d like to lay a horsewhip over 
 his shoulders, and I d do it, too, if I had one now and he 
 was within reach of my arm." 
 
 Then, after finishing his breakfast, Mr. Oldmixon, 
 who never walked if he could help it, got into his coupe 
 that stood at the door of the Lucullus, and drove down 
 town to the office of his legal adviser, Mr. Theobald 
 Ridley. He had in a large pocketbook the will that he 
 had made several years since and the draft of the new 
 one that he wished put into legal form. 
 
 Mr. Ridley was engaged when he entered the room in 
 which clients waited till the great man of the law was 
 ready to receive them ; so, having nothing better to do, 
 he took out the paper containing the memoranda of the 
 provisions of the new will he contemplated making, and 
 perused and reperused them, with the object of as 
 certaining whether or not he had sufficiently covered his 
 intentions with his words. Mr. Oldmixon had a clear 
 head for business, and, besides that, he was, in spite of his 
 eccentricity in the matter of one-sided love affairs with 
 women he did not know in which he displayed a de 
 gree of imbecility that would have disgraced an idiot a 
 
MAKING A WILLJACK OLDMIXON. 69 
 
 shrewd, sharp man, who could see as far into other peo 
 ple s motives and schemes as was necessary for his purposes. 
 He had not been deceived by his nephew Hogarth. He 
 had always known that he was a bad fellow, but he was 
 an Oldmixon in mind and body, whereas Jack was not ; 
 and this fact had been the determining factor in causing 
 him to make the will which he was now on the point of 
 reversing. 
 
 He did not, however, find anything to change, so that 
 when Mr. Ridley sent for him he was more than ever 
 firmly convinced that he had done, not only what he had 
 intended doing, but that his intentions were right. 
 
 The lawyer glanced over both papers while his client sat 
 eying him keenly and observing, with gratification, the 
 expression of astonishment that came over his counte 
 nance. Mr. Oldmixon s vanity was of such a high degree 
 of development that it was gratified beyond measure 
 when any act of his excited surprise or interest in those 
 about him. He was pleased when he could arouse an 
 emotion in others. It showed power. 
 
 " Do you know, Mr. Oldmixon," said Mr. Ridley, after 
 he had made himself acquainted with the contemplated 
 provisions of the new will, i that this is a somewhat re 
 markable paper?" 
 
 Yes, Mr. Ridley, I am fully aware of that fact. 
 " As I understand the matter, you desire to disinherit 
 your nephew Hogarth and to make your nephew J ohn 
 your heir. 
 
 " Precisely ! 1 think that is very evident." 
 " Yes, yes, it s clear enough ; but in conjunction with 
 your bounty to this young man you have imposed the 
 most extraordinary conditions that 1 ever heard of, and I 
 am not a man without experience in such matters." 
 
70 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 " Yes, tliey are extraordinary, I admit ; but, then, the 
 occasion is extraordinary. " 
 
 " I am not quite sure that they would stand in law." 
 
 " I ll risk that. I m something of a lawyer myself, and 
 1 am not altogether ignorant of such matters. 
 
 " I suppose you have no objection to tell me the mo 
 tives that influence you in this matter ?" 
 
 i Yes, I have a very strong objection to doing anything 
 of the kind." 
 
 " Oh, well, it doesn t make any difference. I only 
 thought there might be something in which you were 
 misinformed or in which you were acting hastily." 
 
 " No ; I am fully acquainted with all the facts of the 
 case, and 1 am acting with more than my usual delibera 
 tion." 
 
 " Then," said Mr. Ridley, looking over the paper that 
 he still held in his hand, "as I understand the matter, 
 you wish to give by your will your entire estate, real and 
 personal, except the sum of one dollar, to your nephew 
 John Oldmixon." 
 
 " That is my desire," answered Mr. Oldmixon, in a 
 tone of voice as mechanical as though he were saying his 
 catechism, for he thought he had made his intention 
 sufficiently plain, and that Mr. Ridley s caution was su 
 perfluous. 
 
 " And the condition is, that he shall, within one year 
 after your decease, marry a certain lady whose name is left 
 blank." 
 
 " Yes ; I ll fill in the name ; but I ve no objection to 
 telling, in the strictest confidence, that her name is Bar 
 bara Henschel." 
 
 6 And in case he should refuse or neglect, from any 
 
MAKING A WILL JACK OLDMIXON. 71 
 
 cause whatever, to marry the said Barbara lienschel, then 
 the estate is to go to her." 
 
 Mr. Oldmixon nodded his head in affirmation. 
 
 1 suppose you have not overlooked the fact that if 
 Barbara Henschel should take the initiative in the matter, 
 and declare that she will not marry your nephew, that she 
 would become your heiress." 
 
 * 1 am perfectly well aware of that fact, and I had it 
 distinctly in view when I wrote out that memorandum." 
 
 " Then you might as well, so far as the money is con 
 cerned, make her your heiress at once, for you have put 
 it in her power to get your money. Of course you 
 know that the probability is, that she will prefer to be 
 her own mistress and to marry whom she pleases." 
 
 " 1 know all that as well as you do, Mr. Ridley," said 
 Mr. Oldmixon, with a little stiffness of manner not devoid 
 of impatience, " and if the disposition of my estate had 
 been my chief object, I should have made a some 
 what different will from that that I now contemplate. 
 Knowing you as well as I do, I suppose you are possessed 
 of sufficient discernment to perceive that the bestowal 
 of my money is not the prime purpose of the document 
 I desire you to prepare." 
 
 " You wish, above all things, to secure a marriage be 
 tween your nephew John and this Miss Henschel ?" in 
 quired Mr. Ridley. 
 
 " Certainly I do!" 
 
 "Then, don t you see that the provisions of the will 
 must be kept an absolute secret from her that, in fact, no 
 one must know of them except your nephew John ?" 
 
 "Of course I do, Mr. Ridley !" exclaimed Mr. Old 
 mixon, jumping up from his chair and beginning to slash 
 his shoes with his cane. Of course I do ! Do you 
 
72 ME. OLDMIX<m. 
 
 take me for an idiot that doesn t know his own mind ? 
 Of course I m peculiar ; I show it in many of my acts, and 
 I suppose it is apparent in these memoranda ; but pe 
 culiarity is neither imbecility nor insanity, is it ?" 
 
 "No," answered Mr. Ridley, laughing; "there are 
 many examples of eccentric wills that have stood the tests 
 of the courts. Mere eccentricity will not affect the 
 validity of a will. If it did, such a one as this" taking 
 as he spoke a law journal from the table and turning over 
 a few leaves " would have been upset beyond a doubt. 
 Here," he continued, " is a man who is represented as 
 having been a shrewd, successful business man, who had 
 accumulated a large fortune. He had never exhibited 
 any sign of insanity ; but 1 think you will admit that his 
 will is even more eccentric than yours. He disinherits 
 all his natural heirs, and devises all his property in trust 
 for the establishment of an infirmary for cats. A most 
 elaborate architectural plan for the necessary buildings 
 is attached to and made part of the will. It provides 
 areas for that sweet amatory converse so dear to the feline 
 heart, and rat-holes of the most ravishing nature to be kept 
 well-stocked. The most ingenious contrivances are pro 
 vided for securing to the rat a chance to escape, so that 
 the cats may not lose the pleasure of the chase by finding 
 their prey come too easily. High walls are to be built 
 with gently sloping roofs for the moonlight promenade 
 and other nocturnal amusements of the cats. The trus 
 tees are directed to select the grounds for this novel in 
 firmary in the most populous part of some great American 
 city, and the devisees are to be protected by a competent 
 force of nurses from the ravages of men and dogs. No 
 person of the male sex is ever to be admitted within the 
 walls, and no female that has children or that is under 
 
MAKING A WILL JACK OLDMIXON. 73 
 
 thirty years of age. There are a hundred or more minute 
 directions that 1 pass over." 
 
 " The man was crazy, of course !" said Mr. Oldmixon, 
 contemptuously. " You don t mean to compare my will 
 to that, do you ?" 
 
 " Not exactly. I only intended to show you that there 
 are more eccentric wills than yours. This one has just 
 come before the courts, and has not yet been adjudicated 
 upon. If it is sustained, you need have no fear of yours 
 not being upheld. But I have not yet finished with the 
 will for the protection and well-being of cats. One would 
 suppose that in the foregoing provisions the testator had 
 exhausted all the eccentricities of one man, however 
 unique his nature ; but the last provision of the will seems 
 more outrageously whimsical than any that precede it. 
 Says the devisor : < I have all my life been taught to be 
 lieve that everything in and about man was intended to be 
 useful, and that it was man s duty, as lord of the animals, 
 to protect all the lesser species, even as God protects and 
 watches over him. For these two combined reasons first, 
 that my body even after death may continue to be made 
 useful, and second, that it may be made instrumental, as 
 far as possible, in furnishing a substitute for the protec 
 tion of the bodies of my dear friends, the cats, I do hereby 
 devise and bequeath the intestines of my body to be made 
 up into fiddlestrings, the proceeds to be devoted to the 
 purchase of an accordion, which shall be played in the 
 auditorium of the cat infirmary by one of the regular 
 nurses, to be selected for that purpose exclusively. The 
 playing to be kept up forever and ever, without cessation 
 night and day, in order that the cats may have the privilege 
 of always hearing and enjoying that instrument which is 
 the nearest approach to their natural voice. 
 
74 MR. OLDMIXOK. 
 
 "Of course," said Mr. Oldmixon, "such a will as 
 that cannot stand, for it is contrary to public policy. The 
 courts will make short work of it." 
 
 "And I am not quite sure that yours is not open to 
 the same objection. Don t you think it is contrary to 
 public policy to bribe a man to marry a woman whom, 
 perhaps, he does not love and can never love ?" 
 
 "No, I don t !" replied Mr. Oldmixon, promptly. 
 " She will know nothing whatever of the provisions of 
 the will, and therefore the only inducement she will 
 have to marry him will be the fact that she loves him. 
 If she does not love him she won t marry him, and then 
 she will get the money. If she marries him within a 
 year after my decease he will get the estate ; if she re 
 fuses to marry him, or marries some one else, or marries 
 him after a year has elapsed, she will get it. Surely, it s 
 all very plain, and I don t see anything in the provisions 
 that is contrary to public policy." 
 
 " Well, well, perhaps not ; I ll do the best I can with 
 it. You want me to put these data into the form 
 required by the laws of the State of New York ?" 
 
 "Yes, of course ! That s what I came here for." 
 
 " When will you be ready to execute the will ?" 
 
 " I shall be ready this evening. Send it to me as soon 
 as it is done, and I will sign it and have my act witnessed 
 in due form." 
 
 " And this other will, what do you wish done with it ?" 
 
 " That you may destroy as well as this other that I 
 made last night" taking as he spoke another folded 
 paper from the breast pocket of his coat and handing it 
 to Mr. Eidley. 
 
 " What s all this !" exclaimed that gentleman, as he 
 hastily ran his eye over the document. 
 
MAKING A WILL JACK OLDMIXON. 75 
 
 " Oil ! that s a will I made last night in case anything 
 should happen to me before I had quite made up my 
 mind in regard to the details of all that I wanted to do." 
 
 " It isn t worth the paper on which it is written. It 
 isn t properly witnessed, and may as well go into the 
 waste-paper basket" saying which Mr. Ridley tore it 
 into several pieces and threw them under the table. 
 " The other, however," he continued, u is another thing. 
 If you were to die before you execute your new will it 
 would stand." 
 
 " And if I destroy it, what then ?" 
 
 " In that case you would die intestate, and your estate 
 would be divided among your heirs-at-law." 
 
 " Then I shall not destroy it yet. I would rather 
 Hogarth should get my property than that it should be 
 cut up into a dozen or more shares, as would be the case 
 were I to die without a will. Give it back tome. I ll 
 keep it till I sign the other. Then it will be worthless, 
 whether destroyed or not." 
 
 Mr. Ridley handed him the paper, and in a few min 
 utes thereafter Mr. Oldmixon took his leave, and entering 
 his coupe directed the coachman to drive to the " Van 
 dyke" apartment house in one of the up-town streets. 
 
 Mr. Oldmixon was a man of action. In fact, he had 
 one of the most restless spirits that ever inhabited a 
 human body. He was never quiet except when he was 
 asleep, and, as a rule, he was not then in that condition, 
 for he snored terribly and was a somnambulist features, 
 especially the last, that on several occasions got him into 
 serious difficulties. 
 
 He was now on his way to make a visit to his nephew 
 John, or, as he was generally called, " Jack," for the pur 
 pose of acquainting him with the kind intentions he had 
 
76 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 formed relative to his future financial and matrimonial 
 relations. 
 
 He knew very little of Jack. In fact, lie had not seen 
 him to speak to him for several years. Occasionally 
 when he had been driving through the streets he had 
 encountered his nephew trudging along on foot ; but their 
 eyes had not met, probably because neither the one nor the 
 other cared to allow them to do so, and not even a saluta 
 tion passed between them. Till this morning he did not 
 even know where Jack lived, and he had been obliged 
 to have recourse to a Directory to gain the necessary infor 
 mation. There he had found u Oldmixon, John, artist, 
 The Vandyke, 61 West th Street." 
 
 Jack had always, in addition to the other virtues that 
 his uncle gave him credit for possessing, shown a suffi 
 cient amount of independence to extort his relative s un 
 feigned though silent respect. He saw, while he was yet 
 a boy, that for some reason or other lie was not a favor 
 ite. At first this troubled him greatly, for he was of a 
 warm and affectionate nature, and he was disposed to 
 make advances, notwithstanding the fact tliat they gener 
 ally met with rebuffs. He was then under the impres 
 sion that there might be something in his conduct or his 
 manner that was disagreeable to his uncle, and upon one 
 occasion had made bold to ask if there was any ground 
 for his fear, expressing a.t the same time his desire to 
 correct it if his respected relative would be kind enough 
 to enlighten him in regard to its character. 
 
 For a moment Mr. Oldmixon had looked at the boy in 
 astonishment, and then, with some confusion of manner, 
 had said : "I don t think it s worth while to talk about 
 that matter now. I ll give you an education till you are 
 twenty-one, and then you can look after yourself. I may 
 
MAKING A WILL JACK OLDMLXON. 77 
 
 as well tell you, however, that all my money will go to 
 your brother." 
 
 It was a cruel speech to make, and no one knew that 
 fact better than Mr. Oldmixon himself. Bat he thought 
 it would be as well to destroy at once and for all any ex 
 pectations that Jack might have formed of coming in for 
 any portion of his estate. He had been for some time 
 seeking an opportunity for doing so, and now it had 
 come to him when he had least expected it. 
 
 For the instant the boy looked as though he were about 
 to burst into tears ; but he was a manly fellow, even though 
 only sixteen years of age, so he controlled himself as well 
 as he could, though his lips quivered a little and his eyes 
 moistened. 
 
 " I thought I would ask," he said at last, " for if there 
 is anything I can do to make you like me, I will do it. 
 "Not that I want any of your money," he added ; " Ho 
 garth is welcome to that." 
 
 Mr. Oldmixon was not ordinarily brutal, but he felt 
 the blood of his ancestors warming in his veins from some 
 cause or other, and it was bad blood to get heated. He 
 turned on the child, and with a scowl on his face said : 
 
 " I like Hogarth because he is an Oldmixon. He looks 
 like one, talks like one, acts like one. I dislike you 
 because you take after your mother, and I never could 
 endure her. There doesn t seem to be any Oldmixon 
 blood in you, and, by Heaven ! I don t believe there is." 
 
 The words were hardly out of his mouth when Jack 
 sprang forward, and with all his young strength dealt his 
 uncle a blow in the mouth that cut his lip and caused the 
 blood to flow, besides loosening several of his teeth. He 
 would have jumped upon him and have inflicted further 
 damage had he not been grasped by Mr. Oldmixon s 
 
78 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 man and carried bodily, struggling and kicking with all 
 his might, out of the room. That night he left the house, 
 leaving a note for his uncle in which he declared that he 
 would never receive another favor at his hands, nor even 
 recognize him as a relative. " You are a liar and a ruf 
 fian, he wrote. " You insulted my mother, and if I had 
 been let alone I would have killed you." 
 
 From that time on there had been no intercourse be 
 tween the two. Jack had gone to a gentleman, a noted 
 artist with whom he had a slight acquaintance, and had 
 requested him to put him in the way of applying to the 
 court for a change of guardianship. There was no trouble 
 in effecting the substitution of his friend for his uncle, as 
 the latter united in the application, and Mr. Winfield 
 Bageot became Jack s legal guardian and trustee of the 
 small property left by his mother till the time of the 
 boy s arriving at age. 
 
 Jack s father had run through his estate in a few years 
 after marriage, and then, as the reader has already been 
 informed, was run through the body in a duel that he 
 had provoked. Mrs. Oldmixon had always been del 
 icate, so that, though her husband s death was a good 
 riddance to her, she had only survived him a few 
 months. She left property yielding about a thousand 
 dollars a year equally divided between her two sons. 
 Jack had, therefore, after the rupture with his uncle a 
 little over five hundred dollars a year upon which to keep 
 body and soul together and complete his education. 
 Under the guidance of his friend, Mr. Bageot, he got 
 along very well, and after a couple of years more spent at 
 school he began to learn something of art, with the in 
 tention, of becoming a painter, provided he showed any 
 talent in that direction. He did show talent. By the 
 
MAKING A WILL JACK OLDMIXON. 79 
 
 strictest economy he had saved enough to enable him to 
 pay for his passage to Koine, and once there he was en 
 abled to live on his five hundred a year better than he 
 could have lived on a like sum in New York. He stayed 
 two years in Koine and one in wandering about Europe, 
 stopping a month or two in each of Paris, Madrid, 
 Yienna, Munich, Dresden, London, and other art centres, 
 and working hard all the time at figure painting the 
 branch of the profession for which he thought he ex 
 hibited most talent, and which he greatly preferred to any 
 other. By the time Jack returned to New York he had 
 planted many good seeds, and planted them well, so that 
 there was every prospect that he would be able to make 
 his way to some degree of eminence in the line of work 
 he had chosen. 
 
 An artist has better opportunities for bringing himself 
 before the public than has a member of any other pro 
 fession that is, of course, if there is anything in him 
 that the public cares for. If he paints a good picture it 
 is hung in a prominent place at some one or more of the 
 art exhibitions, and is, perhaps, also displayed on the walls 
 of his club house. It is described by the art critics of 
 the daily papers and of the magazines that are, or are not, 
 specially devoted to art interests. It is probably en 
 graved for the pages of some art journal or by some 
 print-seller. It may even be chromo-lithographed. By 
 all these means the artist is made known to society and 
 the world at large. He is invited out, he is talked about, 
 and his reputation is made. 
 
 Jack Oldmixon went through all this, and had achieved 
 what most young men in his position would have consid 
 ered splendid success. Every year since his return he 
 had had one or more pictures at the annual exhibitions of 
 
80 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 the National Academy, and they had been sold promptly 
 at his own prices to wealthy men in various parts of the 
 country. One of them had been purchased by Mr, 
 Makers, of Baltimore, and this circumstance as every 
 one knew how accomplished a connoisseur Mr. Malters 
 was had of itself largely aided in selling other produc 
 tions of his brush. The wealthy Mr. Smilax, of Chicago, 
 had bought one and had given an order for another, the 
 subject to be the Goddess of Beauty casting pearls before 
 swine. Jack had thought long over this order before 
 deciding to accept it, but at last he had concluded that 
 something good could be made of the subject, and he 
 had accordingly gone to work at it with great enthusiasm, 
 and had produced a picture which the conoscenti de 
 clared showed real genius in the conception, and that it 
 was a wonderful piece of composition and coloring. He 
 had treated the matter symbolically, the swine being men 
 and the pearls women. At first the Chicago gentleman 
 who was far more artistic in his tastes than many of 
 those in the East who make pretensions looked at the 
 picture in amazement. The idea was so entirely differ 
 ent from the one lie had formed of feeding swine with 
 pearls that for a moment he thought there must be some 
 mistake. 
 
 " My dear fellow," he said, " I don t see the hogs." 
 Jack smiled, but made no reply ; and in a little while 
 the mental illumination came to his patron with a force 
 that almost overwhelmed him. 
 
 44 By thunder !" he exclaimed, wringing Jack s hand 
 with both of his as though he were squeezing the water 
 out of a wet cloth. " You re a genius ! You ve produced 
 the finest thing of the time one, sir, that will swell your 
 reputation to such proportions that you ll hardly know 
 
MAKING A WILL JACK OLDMIXON. 81 
 
 yourself. I wouldn t take five thousand dollars for that 
 picture, and in ten years from now it ll be worth twenty. 
 Give me a pen and ink, please." 
 
 Jack gave him writing materials, and Mr. Smilax, pro 
 ducing a blank check from his pocket, sat down at a table, 
 and in a moment or two handed the young man the prod 
 uct of his penmanship. Jack took it, glanced at it, 
 and handed it back. 
 
 " This is for five thousand dollars," he said. " You 
 are only to give me twenty-five hundred for the picture." 
 
 " My dear young friend," said Mr. Smilax, in his most 
 insinuating tones, " it is one of the privileges of wealth to 
 reward talent. When I engaged to give you twenty-five 
 hundred dollars for a picture, I had in my mind one that 
 1 thought would be worth the price. This is different, 
 and worth a great deal more than that sum. As I just 
 said, I wouldn t take five thousand for it. I feel that I 
 am getting the best of the bargain when 1 tender you 
 that amount for it ; but then, you see," he added, smiling, 
 " as a business man 1 like to come out a little ahead." 
 
 The end of the matter was, that Jack took the check, 
 feeling that in Mr. Smilax he had secured an apprecia 
 tive patron. And he had ; for the picture, " Casting 
 Pearls before Swine," was the reason of getting him 
 more orders than he could easily attend to. But he was 
 industrious. He worked fast, and when walking or 
 driving, or when at the theatre, or during a lapse in the 
 conversation at a dinner-party, he was thinking of his 
 work, and framing mental images of persons and situa 
 tions. Many of these, upon reflection, he discarded ; but 
 others were among his best conceptions. 
 
 Then the great railway magnate and millionaire, Mr. 
 Yan der Linden, had called upon him, and had requested 
 4* 
 
82 MR. OLIXMIXON. 
 
 a picture by him for his magnificent gallery. The gen 
 tleman knew a good deal about pictures. It would have 
 been strange if he had not, for his great wealth had en 
 abled him to get together such a collection of the best 
 works of modern painters as was probably unequalled in 
 all the world ; and he had studied them thoroughly, as 
 well as having made himself familiar with the produc 
 tions of all the schools represented in the galleries of 
 Europe. It was his habit to spend every day an hour in 
 the quiet contemplation of some one picture of his fa 
 mous collection. At four o clock punctually he ceased 
 serving mammon for the day, and, entering his coupe, 
 was driven to his house. Then he repaired to his gallery, 
 and, lighting a cigar, seated himself before some noted 
 painting, and resigned himself to its study, endeavoring 
 to obtain some conception of the ideas that had filled the 
 mind of the artist, and that he had transferred to the 
 canvas. 
 
 This was the gentleman who, after great deliberation, 
 had given Jack Oldmixon an order. He was accustomed 
 to say that there was not a bad picture in his gallery, 
 and that he did not intend that there should be one. 
 When Jack had asked him for a subject he had an 
 swered that he wanted not only a picture, but a subject 
 as well. 
 
 " Fix your own price," he had said. " If the picture 
 suits me 1 shall hang it in my collection ; if it does not, 
 but is good, I ll give it to some friend ; but if it s bad, 
 I ll destroy it. There are enough bad pictures in the 
 world without the number being increased by me." 
 
 Jack had accepted the terms, had named his price, 
 and had been assured that it was reasonable and just, 
 large as it was, and had been for a week or more racking 
 
MAKING A WILL JACK OLDMIXON. 83 
 
 his brain for a subject for what he intended should be 
 the great effort of his artistic life. 
 
 Thus matters stood with Jack at the time that his 
 uncle was driving up Fifth Avenue on his way to resume 
 relations that had been interrupted for more than a 
 dozen years. The world and he had got along very well 
 with each other. He had shown his independence and 
 his ability to take care of himself. He had rarely met 
 his brother since he had cut loose from his uncle. Mr. 
 Oldmixon had directed Hogarth, on pain of incurring 
 his implacable resentment, to cease all communications 
 with Jack ; and Hogarth, being one of those astute 
 youths that are wise in advance of their years, and are at 
 the same time not possessed of principle beyond that of 
 looking out for themselves, had seen on which side of 
 his bread the butter was spread, and had scrupulously 
 obeyed his uncle s commands. At first they had spoken 
 when they had met in the streets ; but for the past ten 
 years this formality had been dispensed with, and they 
 passed each other as though they were strangers. Take 
 them all in all, the Oldmixons with which this history 
 has to deal could not be looked upon as being a " happy 
 family. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 "WHAT BROUGHT YOU HERE?" 
 
 IT was with some degree of trepidation that Mr. Old- 
 mixon got out of his coupe and ascended the staircase of 
 the Vandyke apartment-house to his nephew s rooms. 
 He did not have far to go, for they were on the first floor. 
 In fact, the distance was so short that there was scarcely 
 time for him to compose himself into such a frame of mind 
 as would not reveal itself by his manner. Naturally he 
 was nervous. Little things disturbed his equanimity 
 unduly, and big ones acted with proportionately greater 
 power. The janitor preceded him, and on arriving at 
 the landing was about to usher Mr. Oldmixon into a 
 reception-room while he took his name to the occupant ; 
 but to this the gentleman would not listen. u I am his 
 uncle," he said, " and it isn t necessary for me to be an 
 nounced as though I were his tailor. Show me his door, 
 and I ll manage to get in without your assistance." 
 
 The man went along the hall a few steps followed by 
 Mr. Oldmixon, and at last stopped before a door on 
 which was tacked a visiting-card bearing the name of 
 "John Oldmixon." " That s the room," he said. "The 
 gentleman s in" pointing as he spoke to a little wooden 
 label with the word "In" printed upon it in large let 
 ters. " All you ve got to do is to knock," with which 
 words he retreated, leaving Mr. Oldmixon to get in 
 through his own devices. 
 
"WHAT BROUGHT YOU HERE?" 85 
 
 For a moment that gentleman hesitated. He was not 
 quite sure of the character of the reception his nephew 
 would give him. He knew that he had no right to expect 
 any consideration, and he was very certain that had he 
 sent in his name Jack would have peremptorily refused 
 to see him. But he was also aware of the fact that he came 
 strongly armed and with inducements for peace such as 
 few, if any, nephews would care to resist. As he stood 
 before the door he could hear some one, doubtless Jack, 
 moving about the room, and yes, actually whistling. 
 That was a favorable sign. People don t whistle when 
 they are cross. Jack must be in a good-humor, for not 
 only was he whistling, but he was whistling that classical 
 song " Whoa, Emma !" Nobody, Mr. Oldmixon would 
 have sworn, ever whistled " Whoa, Emma !" when he 
 was in a bad temper. 
 
 So far, therefore, the indications for a peaceful inter 
 view were favorable. 
 
 He knocked, and on hearing a loud " Come in" from 
 the room, opened the door and entered. 
 
 Evidently Jack had just been dressing, preparatory 
 probably to going out, for he was in the act of putting 
 his arms into the sleeves of a black frock-coat, when, 
 turning his face to the door, he saw his uncle standing 
 before him. 
 
 His countenance changed. Evidently the influence of 
 " Whoa, Emma !" as a factor in causing the evolution of 
 good-humor was not of a permanent character, for the 
 expression upon his face now was not such as, for instance, 
 a book-canvasser or a subscription agent would have pre 
 ferred to see. There was no element of excitement about 
 it, but it was calmly, darkly, freezingly indignant. It 
 was one that exhibited a potentiality for becoming dan- 
 
86 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 gerous, and tliis idea of its character was increased by the 
 fact that as soon as Jack recognized his visitor he appar 
 ently looked behind him involuntarily at the window, as 
 though to ascertain its exact distance and location, with 
 the view of making use of it for a purpose different from 
 that which had led to its construction. 
 
 The intrusion was so unexpected to Jack, that it re 
 quired an instant for him to grasp the situation. But his 
 was a quick- working brain, and generally anticipated what 
 was being submitted to its action before the matter was 
 wholly unfolded. People said that when they talked to 
 Jack Oldmixon he evidently saw the conclusions to which 
 their remarks were leading long before they had fully 
 stated their premises. The situation therefore was not 
 long, so far as its obvious features were concerned, in 
 being thoroughly comprehended, nor was he slow in ar 
 riving at a determination as to the action necessary in the 
 premises. 
 
 " You !" he exclaimed ; " what brought you here ?" 
 !Now, Mr. Oldmixon knew that he had every reason to 
 expect a cool, perhaps even an angry, reception. His 
 conscience pricked him not so much for what he had done 
 to the boy, though on that score he did not in his present 
 frame of mind hold himself guiltless, but for the dislike 
 he had unjustly entertained for him, and for the cruel 
 speech that he had made, more than twelve years ago, in 
 regard to the boy s mother. For those sins sins for 
 which he knew there could be no adequate excuse, he re 
 proached himself bitterly, and for them he had antici 
 pated an unfriendly reception at the hands of his nephew. 
 But to be called on in that abrupt way to tell what 
 had brought him there was not what he had expected. 
 The object of his visit was not to be stated offhand and 
 
"WHAT BROUGHT YOU HEKE?" 87 
 
 in a few hasty words spoken on compulsion. On the 
 contrary, it was one that for its exposition would require 
 all his shrewdness and diplomacy and an agreeable frame 
 of mind in him to whom it was to be disclosed. Jack 
 must be placated. That requirement was prominent in 
 Mr. Oldmixon s mind, and how to fulfil it was now the 
 question that absorbed all his powers of attention. For 
 tunately for his wishes, he was a man of ready resources 
 and prompt action. He had often boasted of never hav 
 ing lost his presence of mind, although it had been his 
 fortune to be placed in many trying situations. Besides 
 that, he knew that Jack was of a generous and forgiving 
 disposition, and he argued from this circumstance strongly 
 for the success of his plans. Jack did not have to wait 
 long for an answer. 
 
 " I have come," said Mr. Oldmixon, bending his head 
 in an attitude of humility, and looking down at a figure 
 on the rug about a foot in advance of where he stood " I 
 have come," he repeated, " in the first place to ask your 
 pardon for my unjust and cruel language of many years 
 ago. I have often thought of it since that time, and 1 
 have never failed to censure myself for uttering words that 
 I knew were false and that had no other excuse than my 
 bad temper." 
 
 " It seems to me," said Jack, not changing his expres 
 sion, " that, considering that your insult was uttered more 
 than twelve years ago, you have been a long time in ex 
 pressing your regret." 
 
 " True ; I have been proud and unjust all that time, 
 but I have none the less been aware of my fault. I have 
 come to-day not only to ask your forgiveness, but to show 
 you that I am sincere in my repentance. I wish you to 
 be friends with me once more. I am a changed man, and 
 
88 MB. OLDMIXON. 
 
 my vile language, uttered to you a boy, is not the only 
 thing of which I have repented. 
 
 Jack felt himself yielding. It was not in his nature 
 to stand out against a repentance and a desire to undo a 
 wrong so sincere as those exhibited by his uncle. Grad 
 ually his face cleared up ; and before Mr. Oldmixon 
 had done speaking he had resolved to let c bygones be 
 begones and to resume the relations that the ties of con 
 sanguinity justified. He had always regretted the aliena 
 tion, or, rather, he had regretted that Mr. Oldmixon had 
 spoken as he had, not only because his words were an in 
 sult to his mother, but because they required a total sever 
 ance of all associations with the man that had spoken 
 them. No sooner therefore had his uncle finished his 
 little speech than Jack stepped forward with outstretched 
 hands. 
 
 "I am glad you are come," he said, while Mr. Old 
 mixon grasped the hands held out to him. " You were 
 wrong to say what you did, but it is manly and straight 
 forward for you to express your regret. I suppose we all 
 do and say things when we are angry that we are sorry 
 for afterward." 
 
 " Then it is all over between us !" exclaimed Mr. 
 Oldmixon, his countenance expressing the joy he felt at 
 this happy termination in accordance with his desires. 
 i Now, will you let me stay a few minutes and talk over 
 matters with you ? Twelve years, Jack, my boy, since we 
 have had a talk ! It s a long time for uncle and nephew 
 to be separated." 
 
 Before he had finished speaking Jack had rolled a big 
 chair up to him, and Mr. Oldmixon had dropped himself 
 into it. 
 
 " I ll talk with you as long as you like," said Jack, 
 
WHAT BROUGHT YOU HERE?" 89 
 
 equally pleased with the reconciliation that had taken 
 place. " Some of these days we ll exchange confidences 
 in regard to our experiences during these last twelve 
 years. Fve got some interesting things to talk about, 
 and so have you, I m sure." 
 
 "I ve kept my eye on you, Jack, and I ve been proud 
 of you all the time. You re a great man now. I ve gone 
 to the Academy exhibitions every year, and I ve looked 
 for your pictures the first thing. You re ahead of them 
 all, Jack. You re the greatest painter in New York, and 
 I m proud of you just as much as though you were my 
 own son." 
 
 " You re very kind, Uncle Victor" it was the first 
 time Jack had given him the title of relationship. " I ve 
 tried to keep up the name." 
 
 " God forbid that you should keep up the name as the 
 Oldmixons have kept it up ! We re a bad lot, Jack. 
 You are the only one of us, so far as the family traditions 
 go, that has been any credit to mankind. There s that 
 scoundrel Hogarth 
 
 " Hogarth ! What has Hogarth done ?" 
 
 "What has he done?" almost shrieked Mr. Oldmix- 
 on. " What hasn t he done ? Everything but murder, 
 and he isn t too good for that." 
 
 " Perhaps I should know more about it if you were a 
 little more specific in your language. I haven t laid 
 eyes on him for a year or more. Of course he has 
 treated me very badly. I m his only brother, and yet 
 for twelve years he has been a stranger to me. There s 
 something horrible in the idea of passing your own 
 brother in the street and not speaking to him. The 
 fault, however, has not been mine. I always spoke to 
 him, and shook hands with him when we met till he cut 
 
90 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 me dead, and then, of course, I took no further notice 
 of him." 
 
 Mr. Oldmixon shifted himself uneasily on his chair 
 while Jack was speaking, and his face underwent many 
 changes of expression. 
 
 " That was partly my fault, Jack. Indeed, 1 suppose 
 I am wholly to blame. Still, he was very willing to do 
 as I told him. He never remonstrated against my orders. 
 A true man would never have obeyed them." 
 
 "No, I think not," said Jack. "If you had ever 
 told me not to speak to him, I should have refused to do 
 your bidding." 
 
 " You haven t lost much. Hogarth is one of the most 
 depraved men in the world. Of course I knew he was 
 bad when I turned you out of my house. But he was an 
 Oldmixon, and that idea seduced me. Now I ve had 
 enough of him and of all the brood like him." 
 
 " But what new offence has he committed ?" 
 
 " Haven t you heard?" 
 
 " I have heard nothing. I hope it is a small matter." 
 
 " Small ! he couldn t have done anything much worse. 
 He was married yesterday." "With these words Mr. Old 
 mixon covered his face with his hands, and his body shook 
 as though he were convulsed with grief. 
 
 " Hogarth married !" said Jack, in some astonishment. 
 " It s news to me. I suppose," he continued, in a tone 
 of sympathy, " he s made a bad match." 
 
 "No," sobbed Mr. Oldmixon, " he has married the 
 loveliest girl in New York." 
 
 " I don t understand, then, why you should be so dis 
 tressed over the affair." 
 
 "It s very plain," said Mr. Oldmixon, removing his 
 hands, and exhibiting a face on which traces of tears ap- 
 
"WHAT BROUGHT YOU HEREf 91 
 
 peared. " I m sorry for the poor girl, that she should 
 be mated for life to a blackguard and villain like Ho 
 garthandcan you keep a secret, Jack?" turning his 
 eyes on his nephew, and speaking quickly. 
 
 " I suppose so," answered Jack ; " 1 don t think I m 
 a babbler ; at any rate, I ll keep any secrets of yours as 
 long as you wish me to." i 
 
 " Well, then, Jack, that wretch has done me the great 
 est injury one man can do another, for I was deeply at 
 tached to the woman that is now his wife. She was so 
 deep in my heart, that although she now belongs to 
 another, I feel as though I could never give her up. 
 Perhaps in time," he continued, with a more cheerful ex 
 pression of countenance, "I may become reconciled to 
 my loss, but I think not. I do not see that I can ever 
 love again, for I loved her more than I have ever loved 
 any other woman. 
 
 " Then," said Jack, with the proper amount of indig 
 nation in his voice, " she seems to have behaved very 
 badly." 
 
 " Oh dear, no !" exclaimed his uncle ; " I don t see 
 how you can think that. Her conduct has been admirable 
 throughout." 
 
 "I don t understand," observed Jack, with an ex 
 pression of hopelessness on his countenance. If she 
 was engaged to you, and then married another man, it 
 appears to me that most people would regard that as act 
 ing badly." 
 
 u But she was not engaged to me. "Who said she was 
 engaged to me? I ve been in love forty-three times, and 
 I have never once been engaged. 
 " Oh !" exclaimed Jack. 
 " I don t see any occasion for an expression of aston- 
 
92 MR. OLBMIXOK. 
 
 ishment," said Mr. Oldmixon. " I was so unfortunately 
 constituted as to be very susceptible and at the same 
 time to be utterly devoid of confidence in myself. I am 
 the faint heart that never won fair lady. My love has 
 been silent, and I ve 
 
 * Let concealment, like a worm i the bud, etc." 
 
 " But," remarked Jack, scarcely able to keep his face 
 from breaking into a smile, " you got over all the other 
 affairs, so that in all probability you ll conquer this one 
 also." 
 
 " In time, perhaps, and with your aid. I look to you 
 now, Jack. All my trust is in you, and," he added, 
 after a little hesitation, " one other." 
 
 " A lady ?" inquired Jack, this time being unable to 
 keep back the smile. 
 
 " Yes, a lady, but not, as you appear to suspect, one 
 that I am in love with. She is the very best of her sex, 
 beautiful, intelligent, refined, well educated, good tem 
 pered, but not one forme " with a strong accent on the 
 pronoun u to love. That is all over with me. My re 
 gard for her is that of a father for a daughter. With 
 Camilla "White whom that scoundrel Hogarth stole 
 from me not only was the last spark of the gentle pas 
 sion extinguished in my breast, but the fuel became 
 exhausted. There is nothing there now but a burnt- 
 out furnace, an extinct volcano, a cinder. What was 
 once the sun is now the moon. I believe the moon is 
 a dead planet or sun, or something of the kind, isn t it, 
 Jack ?" 
 
 " Really, uncle, I don t know," answered Jack, scarcely 
 aware whether or not an attempt was being made to per 
 petrate a joke. "I am not up in astronomy. 1 have 
 
"WHAT BROUGHT YOU HERE?" 93 
 
 often heard the moon spoken of by young ladies of a 
 sentimental turn of mind as < cold and < pale 
 
 That s it !" interrupted Mr. Oldmixon ; " that s ex 
 actly the state of my heart, cold and < pale. 
 
 " Suppose you tell me all about it, uncle," said Jack, 
 at last, having failed, from Mr. Oldmixon s references, to 
 get a clear idea of the situation, and knowing that it would 
 save time and trouble to be fully enlightened now. 
 " That is," he added, " if the story will not awaken too 
 many painful recollections. You tell me that you have 
 been in love forty-three times. You were joking then, 
 surely. 
 
 " No ; that is the exact number. When I last talked 
 with you, Jack, you were too young to understand such 
 things, and, besides, I was much more reticent then about 
 myself than 1 am now. Forty-three times have I given 
 my heart, and forty-three times has something either 
 death or another man robbed me of her I loved. Do you 
 wonder, then, that I have determined never again to think 
 of a woman with a view to matrimony? Even if I 
 wished to do so, I could not ; for, as I have just said, my 
 heart is burnt out. Now give me your attention for a 
 few minutes, and I will tell you. of this last sad affair, 
 and of the vile part played in it by your brother Ho 
 garth." 
 
 Then Mr. Oldmixon related the history of his infatua 
 tion for Miss Camilla White from first to last, very much 
 in the same words with which he had given it to Bar 
 bara. 
 
 Jack listened with attention, rarely interrupting him 
 with questions, and gradually, as Mr. Oldmixon went on 
 with the recital, coming to the conclusion that his 
 uncle, if not insane on the subject of his loves, was cer- 
 
94 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 tainly very near the border line that, in the opinion of 
 some psychologists, separates sanity from insanity. lie 
 had long known that the old gentleman was eccentric, 
 and that all his life he had acted in a way different from 
 that in which the average man would have acted under 
 like circumstances. But the present experience was so 
 extraordinary, there was so much earnestness in his 
 uncle s manner, such an evident conviction that he was 
 reasonable and right in his opinions and acts, that Jack 
 could hardly avoid the conviction that eccentricity had 
 become actual insanity. He saw now what had been the 
 exciting cause of the entire change of front that had 
 taken place in his relative s opinions of his two nephews, 
 and he reached the conclusion that but for Hogarth s 
 interference in the way that had so provoked his uncle, 
 the change of front would probably never have ensued. 
 Mr. Oldmixon doubtless perceived what was passing 
 through his nephew s mind, for he hastened to declare, 
 with all the emphasis that he could bring to the assertion, 
 that while it was true that yesterday s acts had capped 
 the climax of Hogarth s misdoings, the rupture must 
 have taken place ere long. It was in vain that Jack en 
 deavored, as had Barbara, to convince Mr. Oldmixon 
 that Hogarth had in all probability been unaware of his 
 uncle s attachment for Miss Camilla White, and that his 
 conduct therefore had no element of disrespect or un- 
 kindness in it. The reply was the same as had been 
 given to her that logic and love had no relation to each 
 other and he added that there were other crimes than 
 disrespect and unkindness. 
 
 " Suppose, for instance," said his uncle, after Jack had 
 put in what by a man capable of reasoning justly would 
 have been considered a strong plea for his brother 
 
"WHAT BROUGHT YOU HERE ?" 95 
 
 u suppose you are going down the street and a man ac 
 cidentally strikes you in the face with a whip, when he 
 had intended to strike his horse, wouldn t you be angry 
 with that man ? Of course you would ; and if you were 
 high-tempered, as I am, you would, if you could, haul off 
 and give him a good blow in return. It would be wrong 
 for you to act in such a manner unreasonably, illogically 
 wrong. But if you would strike a man who by accident 
 strikes yon, how much more should I strike the wretch 
 who robs me of my heart s treasure ! You can t tell me 
 anything about its injustice. Justice has nothing to do 
 with it. I know it s unjust as well as you do. But the 
 difference between my act and what yours would be 
 against the man that struck you with his whip, is that 
 mine is done deliberately and after due reflection, where 
 as yours would be the result of ill-temper. You would 
 be sorry for yours almost as soon as you had returned the 
 blow, whereas I rejoice at mine more and more with 
 every hour of my life. No, no, Jack ; don t interfere 
 with me in this matter. It s between Hogarth and me, 
 and I m going to give him the worst of it, as sure as my 
 name is Victor Constantine Oldmixon." 
 
 "I don t want to see you act unjustly, uncle. Ho 
 garth has been very unbrotherly to me, but that is no 
 reason why 1 should, if I can prevent it, allow him to be 
 treated unfairly." 
 
 " Ah, that s it ! if you can prevent it ! But, my boy, 
 you can t prevent it. Therefore, say nothing more about 
 it. Now, shall I tell what is the next most important 
 thing I have to settle with you ?" 
 
 " If you please." 
 
 " Well, it s this. As you know, when 1 was such a 
 blackguard to you twelve years ago 1 made my will in 
 
96 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 favor of Hogarth, giving him everything, and you noth 
 ing. I have just given orders for a new will to be 
 drawn up, and in it for Hogarth you will read Jack 
 that is, my dear boy, I make you my heir, and I am 
 quite sure that it will not be long before you will come 
 into your own." 
 
 Jack was not unprepared for this announcement ; it was 
 the legitimate conclusion of what his uncle had been say 
 ing for the last half hour ; and though he did not think it 
 a just act, yet he had no extravagant and transcendental 
 notions of generosity to his brother that would stand in 
 the way of his acceptance of the bounty tendered him. 
 He therefore thanked Mr. Oldmixon for his kindness, 
 and expressed his intention of doing nothing that could 
 be regarded as showing a want of appreciation of the 
 favor shown him. 
 
 Mr. Oldmixon deliberated with himself for a while as 
 to whether he had better tell Jack of the condition con 
 tained in the will, or leave that for another time, when he 
 and his nephew had become better acquainted with each 
 other, and were on more familiar terms than they were 
 then. Finally, he concluded to defer it. He reasoned 
 that Jack would be more likely to accept the condition 
 after he had fairly grasped the idea of being heir to half 
 a million dollars, and had sufficiently contemplated the 
 advantages that the money would give him. 
 
 " He ll be less apt to kick," he said to himself, " when 
 he thinks of what he ll have to give up." 
 
 Then after inviting Jack to dine with him at the 
 Lucullus that evening, he took his departure, and Jack 
 was left alone to think of the sudden augmentation of his 
 fortune that had so suddenly come to him. He walked 
 up and down the floor for fully half an hour, whistling a 
 
"WHAT BROUGHT YOU HERE?" 97 
 
 variety of popular airs ; and then, having finally settled 
 down into a state of comparative mental repose, went 
 to make a call on Mr. Yander Linden, to communicate 
 to him the perfected views he had formed relative to the 
 subject for the picture he was to paint for that gentle 
 
 man. 
 
 5 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 U A FEAST FOR THE GODS." 
 
 THERE were few persons in New York that knew as 
 much about gastronomic science as did Mr. Oldmixon. 
 He was familiar with all the noted places in the old world 
 where good dinners were to be got, and he was in the 
 habit of saying that the man that was fond of artistic 
 cookery, as well as of dinner-table aesthetics generally, 
 could have his sense of the fitness of things in these 
 respects more thoroughly satisfied in the city of New 
 York than in any other place on the face of the earth ; 
 and not only this, but that there were better wines to be 
 found at the clubs of that metropolis and in the cellars 
 of its famous dinner-givers and hostelries than could 
 be procured in London, Paris, Vienna, or any other 
 European city. 
 
 "You see," he said upon one occasion to a group at 
 his club, " an Englishman or a Frenchman is never will 
 ing to profit by the experience gained out of his own 
 country till it has been crammed down his throat on the 
 prongs of a fork for half a lifetime, whereas an Ameri 
 can picks up good ideas wherever he can find them. 
 Now, here is Lord Glen dale, who sets up for knowing 
 something, and who, I know, has lived in Paris two or 
 three months in every year since he became of age, and 
 he s no chicken now, although he tries to make himself 
 look as young as possible. Well, I dined with his lord- 
 
U A FEAST FOE THE GODS." 99 
 
 ship last night at Ask man s, and after dinner we lit our 
 cigars and walked home together, where we had a little 
 game of poker, of which his lordship is exceedingly fond, 
 but of which, between you and me, he hasn t the faint 
 est scintilla of an idea. He plays it as he would whist. 
 As I was saying, we walked home together, and Lord 
 Glendale began to talk about the dinner. Now, my boys, I 
 think you will all admit that whatever may be oar private 
 opinions of Askman, he knows how to give a dinner such 
 as Brillat-Savarin could not have found fault with. And 
 I assure you on my honor as a gentleman and my repu 
 tation as a gourmet that that dinner was a gem. There 
 was not a single unartistic feature about it. The menu 
 was perfect. The wines were delicious ; those that were 
 to be cooled were cooled to exactly the proper tempera 
 tures, and his Bordeaux and his Burgundy had that pre 
 cise difference of five degrees that only the most highly 
 cultivated taste knows ought to exist. Sixty for the Bor 
 deaux ; sixty-five for the Burgundy. And, what is of 
 more importance, the wines were served in exactly the 
 proper order. As to the table, it was perfection ; and the 
 company well, 1 won t say much about the company ; 
 but when I tell you that Demue and Bass and Coats were 
 there, and a half a dozen women, the like of whom for 
 beauty and intelligence and esprit can t be found through 
 out the whole extent of the United Kingdom, you ll 
 agree that nothing was wanting on that score." 
 
 "Oh, we know all about that," interrupted young 
 Wildmay. u Tell us what his lordship said. Glendale s a 
 good fellow. He s invited me to Glendale Castle for a 
 month s shooting next season. I d like to have his opinion 
 about dinners, because I m going to give him one here 
 next week." 
 
100 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 Mr. Oldmixon surveyed the young man contemptu 
 ously for probably six seconds ; a long time for such a pro 
 cedure. 
 
 " Wildmay," he said at last, " do you ever read the 
 Bible?" 
 
 " Oh, come now, Uncle Victor," exclaimed the young 
 man " Uncle Victor" being the name generally applied 
 to Mr. Oldmixon by the younger members of the club 
 " don t begin a theological lecture. Our minds are not 
 set in that direction." 
 
 " My dear young friend," said Oldmixon, putting on 
 his most gentle and courteous manner a sign that he was 
 about to annihilate the person to whom it was addressed 
 "far be it from me to give you a lecture upon any 
 thing, much less upon theology, or to say a word that 
 would tend to set your mind in action. I was simply going 
 to ask your attention to that verse of Scripture that re 
 bukes the tendency of some young men to push them 
 selves to the front before their elders and betters, by advis 
 ing them to i tarry in Jericho till their beards be grown. 
 I know you are one of those gentle youths that do love a 
 lord. You were kind enough, too, to invite me to be 
 one of those that you have selected from among your ac 
 quaintances to meet the noble lord ; but I have to request 
 that if the dinner is to be in accordance with his ideas, 
 you will count me out." 
 
 "Now, Wildmay," said Mr. Brooks, a man of about 
 forty, "you see what comes of your damned obtrusive- 
 ness. Why the devil can t you let Uncle Victor alone ? 
 1 may tell you now for your satisfaction that Lord Glen- 
 dale told me yesterday that the chief object he had in 
 view in accepting your dinner was that of meeting Uncle 
 Victor. The best thing you can do now is to go down 
 
"A FEAST FOE THE GODS." 101 
 
 on your knees to Uncle Victor and beg his pardon for 
 interrupting him." 
 
 "Oh, I ll do that !" said "Wildmay. <{ Consider me 
 on my knees, Uncle Victor, and asking your pardon." 
 
 " Go, hoy !" said Mr. Oldmixon, magnanimously. " I 
 forgive you ; but be more careful in future. Remem 
 ber, that though the sight of such as you may be refresh 
 ing to the eyes, as is the green field to the kine, the ear 
 would fain know you not. 
 
 " His lordship," continued Mr. Oldmixon, "had the 
 temerity to find fault, not only with that dinner, but with 
 every other one to which he had been invited in New 
 York. Oldmixon, said he, < I ve dined now with some 
 of your heaviest swells, and not once have I seen a piece 
 of roast beef on the table ; and yet I take it that most of 
 your fellows have been in England, and have dined round 
 with some of our people who know what .dinners are. 
 For a moment I was speechless. At last I gasped out : 
 Roast beef at a dinner party ? If a man were to invite 
 me to dinner now listen, Wildmay and were to give 
 me roast beef, while I trust I should have sufficient re 
 spect for myself to swallow the vulgar edible, I should 
 make a resolution never again to put my legs under his 
 table. 
 
 "He laughed at this. But, he went on, * he gave 
 us no champagne till the dessert came. Now in England 
 we always take our champagne when we have it with 
 the roast. 
 
 " Well, my dear boys, at this I almost fainted. Cham 
 pagne with the roast, I muttered ; then I roused my 
 self. * Lord Glendale, I said, champagne is the wine 
 that is to be drank up to. How can a man that has swilled 
 champagne in the early part of his dinner enjoy Cha- 
 
102 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 teau Lafitte and Clos de Yougeot afterward ? It is simply 
 impossible. His palate is ruined for that day as soon as 
 the first swallow of champagne goes down his throat. 
 
 " Well could you believe it ? he said that nothing 
 satisfied his thirst that s the word he used like a big 
 goblet of cracked ice and champagne. Now, my dear 
 boys, you all know unless Wildmay is an exception 
 that there are two kinds of champagne fiends". The one 
 gives you your wine hot, and the other gives it to you 
 with ice in it. If heaven is open to people belonging 
 to either of these classes, I don t want to go there. I 
 suppose it will be more tolerable for Sodom and Gomor 
 rah in the day of judgment than for one of them ; but I am 
 inclined to think that of the two the ice fiend will have a 
 little the better chance. To be sure, he reduces Pommery 
 Sec to the level of ginger-ale or root-beer ; but his inten 
 tions are goo4 ; and though hell is said to be paved with 
 good intentions, he will probably have a comparatively 
 cool place there. 
 
 "Yes," said Brooks, laughing, while Mr. Oldmixon 
 looked from one to the other, with an air of satisfaction 
 on his countenance, as though he had demonstrated a most 
 important fact, "his intentions being cool, his place with 
 his Satanic Majesty will be of a like character." 
 
 "Yes, that s what I mean. Ha ! ha !" 
 
 "For my part," said Wildrnay, "I like my cham 
 pagne frappe frozen, you know." 
 
 Mr. Oldmixon put on his hat, drew on his gloves, but 
 toned his coat, and then bowing to each one of the group 
 except Wildmay, turned as though about to leave the 
 room. Suddenly he stopped, and addressing that rather 
 crestfallen individual, said : 
 
 " My sweet young friend, I recollect that I have an 
 
"A FEAST FOE THE GODS." 103 
 
 engagement for the evening that your dinner comes off, 
 and therefore I shall have to ask you to excuse me. I 
 am very sorry ; for if there is anything that 1 particularly 
 like it is frozen champagne. It is so nice to have your 
 butler going round the table and slapping his hand on 
 the bottom of the bottle in order to get the congealed 
 liquid to now through the narrow neck. The noise is an 
 agreeable diversion, and the act attracts the attention of 
 the company, and saves them the necessity of listening 
 to some bore who may be telling a long story. Besides, 
 there is always a fine chance of the contents of the bottle 
 not wine, it is no longer wine under the influence 
 of some more than usually strong thump, coming out 
 with a gush and spattering the table-cloth or the ladies 
 dresses. Such a timely accident always causes a laugh, 
 and therefore interrupts the monotony that otherwise 
 would be tiresome. Then and this is the chief advan 
 tage it is so much more convenient to eat your wine 
 than to drink it. I would suggest that you serve it as a 
 sorbet with spoons. Yes, I am extremely sorry that 1 
 shall not be able to assist at so delectable a feast as yours 
 will be ;" and with a profound bow to the extinguished 
 Wildmay, Mr. Oldmixon left the room. 
 
 "Run after him, Wildmay!" exclaimed Brooks. 
 " You can t get along without Uncle Yictor, and Glen- 
 dale won t come if he doesn t. Tell him he may order 
 the dinner. That s what he wants. It w T ill cost you 
 twice as much as if you ordered it, but then it will be 
 perfect." 
 
 " Til be hanged if I do !" said "Wildmay. " He may 
 go to the devil ! By George ! he s getting to think that 
 nobody but himself knows anything, and you fellows all 
 help him to keep up that delusion. Besides, I think he s 
 
104 MB. OLDMIXON. 
 
 as mad as a March hare on some things. See how he 
 treats Jack Oldmixon and cuddles that scamp Hogarth. 
 1 know lots of people who think he s a lunatic. 
 
 " Just as you please," rejoined Brooks, while the others 
 intimated by a few words that they thought Wildmay 
 had better catch Uncle Victor before he got out of the 
 clubhouse. " It s your dinner, you know. But 1 can 
 tell you, my dear boy, that if you don t propitiate that 
 great man you ll rue it to the last day of your life. 
 Another thing, too, you d better bear in mind : don t act 
 on the assumption that Uncle Victor s crazy. He s queer 
 sometimes, I admit, and he s done some of the most pre 
 posterous things that a man ever did ; but for all that he s 
 got a head on his shoulders, dear boy, that it would be 
 dangerous for you to trifle with. You d better overhaul 
 him before he get s away." 
 
 " Confound it all !" exclaimed Wildmay ; " with every 
 one of you against me, I suppose there s nothing else for 
 me to do. You d better call this Oldmixon s Club, for 
 hang me if he doesn t run the whole establishment." 
 
 He left the room, and it s needless to add succeeded in 
 placating Mr. Oldmixon by giving him .carte blanche to 
 arrange not only the menu, but the decorations also. 
 
 From all of which it will be sufficiently apparent to 
 the reader if he or she has not already acquired that 
 idea that Mr. Oldmixon was a power, and a despotic 
 one at that, in more than one circle in the city of 
 New York. 
 
 Jack was at the Lucullus at seven o clock precisely, 
 and his punctuality elicited the warmest encomiums from 
 his uncle, who was on hand in the reception-room. 
 
 " I ve invited Brooks and a Mr. Partridge of St. Louis 
 to join us," lie said. " Brooks you know, of course, and 
 
105 
 
 Partridge is a picture-collector. lie s just got back from 
 Paris with the last picture of some great painter." 
 
 u Yes, 1 know Brooks, and I know Mr. Partridge also. 
 He gave me an order yesterday." 
 
 " The devil he did ! Well, Jack, you seem to have 
 got to about the top of the ladder. I hope you won t be 
 spoiled, my boy." 
 
 " 1 don t think there s any danger of that," answered 
 Jack, laughing. " What success I have had has come 
 from hard work, and therefore I am not likely to estimate 
 it at more than it s worth." 
 
 " I m proud of you, my boy ; and to think that I should 
 have cut myself off from a man like you to take up with 
 one like that blackguard Hogarth ! The snake in the 
 grass ! He has bitten the bosom that warmed him ! That s 
 it ! That s just what he s done, the ungrateful serpent ! 
 
 " Well, uncle, said Jack, " as I said to you this morn 
 ing, I can t agree with you in this matter. Hogarth may 
 be a bad fellow. I have no reason to praise him ; but 
 common justice, I think, requires that he should not be 
 blamed for marrying a woman who he had no idea was 
 beloved by you." 
 
 " We won t talk about it, Jack, especially as here are 
 our friends," as two gentlemen approached ; " but I must 
 say once and for all, as I ve already said a dozen times, 
 that ( common justice may go to the devil. It has 
 nothing to do with the case. How are you, Brooks ? 
 Good-evening, Mr. Partridge. You both know my 
 nephew, Mr. John Oldmixon, I believe. Come ! We ll 
 take the elevator. We ll make a nice little partie carr/e. 
 I wouldn t take a thousand dollars for the enjoyment I 
 expect to get out of this dinner and your society for the 
 next three hours or more. 
 5* 
 
106 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 " I think," said Mr. Brooks to Jack, as they were go 
 ing up in the elevator, "that there isn t a living mar 
 that enjoys a good dinner more than does your uncle, and 
 I may add, knows better how to give one." 
 
 " That is no small praise, Brooks," said Mr. Oldmixon \ 
 u for I look upon you as one of the few men now living 
 whose opinion on the subject is worth anything. As for 
 me, dinner-giving stands at the head of the arts and 
 sciences. I came across an old book a few days ago," he 
 continued, as he took Mr. Partridge s arm on getting out 
 of the elevator, while the party crossed the hall to the 
 room in which they were to dine, " that contains a sen 
 tence that embodies my idea exactly. It is to the effect 
 that no man is fit to govern an empire who does not know 
 how to give a dinner to his friends." 
 
 "I think there is some truth in that," said Mr. Par 
 tridge, laughing. " Certainly, the best Presidents we 
 have had have been those that gave the best dinners." 
 
 " Yes ; the qualities necessary in a giver of good din 
 ners do not differ from those requisite in a great and 
 good ruler," said Mr. Oldmixon, after his guests had 
 taken their seats and he was unfolding his napkin. " If 
 ever I am a candidate for a high office, I want only one 
 war-cry to be sounded in my behalf He gives good 
 dinners. : 
 
 "I am afraid," rejoined Mr. Partridge, raising a 
 Blue Point oyster scarcely larger than the end of his 
 thumb to his lips, " that in this selfish age the announce 
 ment would not do you much good unless you added the 
 words, and you are all invited to them. Then you d 
 get votes." 
 
 "I shouldn t object to the number so much as I 
 should to the kind of people I should have to invite," 
 
"A FEAST FOE THE GODS." 107 
 
 said Mr. Oldmixon, wlio was now in his element. " Big 
 dinners, however, are generally dreary affairs. Think of 
 that one given to the Goddess Bubastis, on the banks of 
 the Nile, at which seventy thousand sat down at the 
 table and seven hundred thousand looked on, and at 
 which more wine was drunk than in all Egypt during 
 the rest of the year ! Jack, my boy, what do you think 
 of that Montrachet ? Don t mind my asking such ques 
 tions, my friends," he continued, addressing his other 
 guests. " This is a little family affair, at which we are 
 at liberty to criticise the wines and the dishes. I ve got 
 a surprise for you in the next course after the soup, in 
 regard to which I shall want your individual opinions. 
 It s a new dish, an original one one of my own de 
 vising ; and if it s successful, I would rather be the 
 inventor or the discoverer of it than to be the first man 
 to reach the North Pole." 
 
 Jack gave it as his opinion that the Montrachet was 
 excellent. 
 
 " It s so much better," he ventured to say, " to drink 
 white Burgundy with your oysters than that sweet 
 Y quern, which is certain to deaden your taste." 
 
 " That s right, my boy !" exclaimed Mr. Oldmixon. 
 li Good Heavens ! how delighted I am to hear you enunci 
 ate an opinion like that. The only wines fit to drink 
 with your oysters are Chablis and Montrachet. Yquem 
 is a dessert wine, and only fit for women at that ; and yet 
 there are people pretending to a knowledge of oinology 
 who hand it to you as soon as your legs are under their 
 table. Faugh !" 
 
 1 i I see you had a nephew married yesterday, said 
 Brooks, changing the conversation. " Hogarth ; I don t 
 know him. He s been away, hasn t he ?" 
 
108 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 Nothing could better show the difference between insan 
 ity and eccentricity than Mr. Oldmixou s ability to re 
 strain the manifestation of any of his peculiarities when 
 ever he thought it advisable to do so. He had no inten 
 tion of opening his family closets, and of displaying the 
 skeletons therein contained either to Mr. Brooks or Mr. 
 Partridge. He did not, as may be supposed by some 
 persons, bearing in mind the anxiety he showed to un 
 bosom himself to Barbara Henscliel, go about talking in 
 clubs and other places of social resort of his loves and of 
 his intentions toward his nephews. He was prone to 
 form sudden intimacies with people that impressed him 
 by their possessing some agreeable feature of mind or of 
 person, and he was equally disposed to contract dislikes 
 from the opposite influences. The difference between 
 him and most persons in these respects was that his likes 
 and dislikes were often not always by any means of so 
 preposterous a character as to be altogether unexplainable 
 upon any theory based upon normal human experience. 
 Such, for instance, had been his affection for his nephew 
 Hogarth, a person who, as boy and man, had scarcely a 
 redeem ing quality, but who woiild probably, nevertheless, 
 have remained his favorite had he not unconsciously in 
 terfered with his uncle s love-affair. The immediate in 
 clination that he had manifested for Barbara Henscliel 
 was probably only a caprice, that he himself would not 
 have been able to explain. He had placed it to her dis 
 play of philosophy at his first interview with her ; but as 
 we have seen, she had not shown any evidence of an ac 
 quaintance with the subject, and it is probable, therefore, 
 that he deceived himself on this point. That he should 
 have been attracted by that indescribable charm that she 
 possessed a charm that was not exactly beauty, but rather 
 
"A FEAST FOE THE GODS." 109 
 
 a potentiality for beauty, as well as by the sweetness of her 
 manners, was not surprising ; but that he should have 
 carried it to the extent of making her his confidante and 
 the arbiter between him and his nephews was certainly 
 not an act compatible with the idea that his mind was a 
 normal one, acting within the limits of perfect mental 
 health. Most people, no matter how regularly acting 
 are their brains, perpetrate acts that are essentially insane 
 acts, in fact, that if committed by a lunatic having the 
 freedom of the asylum ward, would certainly lead to his 
 being put in a strait- jacket, or some other kind of dur 
 ance, or to a further extension of the period of his se 
 questration. Mr. Oldmixon appeared to be especially 
 liable to say or do something that would be called insane 
 by any competent alienist, and yet in the generality of his 
 acts to exhibit a strength of purpose and of will and a 
 capacity for thought of a robust character that the most 
 intellectual man alive might have envied. In the mat 
 ter of his love-affairs he had come very near to positive 
 lunacy, if he had not actually crossed the line ; but he had 
 shown an ability to get out of them with as great a de 
 gree of facility as to enter into them, and had finally 
 announced that never again would he entertain the emo 
 tion of love in his heart. This power was one that no 
 lunatic could have possessed. It really seemed as though 
 he had tha ability to become sane or insane at will. He 
 had frequently reasoned with himself on this point, and 
 had arrived at the conviction that he really did possess 
 this somewhat dangerous power. 
 
 While Brooks was referring to Hogarth s marriage, 
 Mr. Oldmixon was determining what answer he should 
 give. Before the speaker had finished, he had fully re 
 solved upon the reply to make. He knew that his change 
 
HO MR. OLDMIXOtf. 
 
 of affection from one nephew to the other would sooner 
 or later become known, and he very shrewdly resolved 
 that the announcement should come from himself. 
 Brooks was something of a gossip, as are most club men, 
 and Mr. Oldmixon knew that before twenty-four hours 
 had expired the story, as he was now about to give it, 
 would be all over New York. 
 
 " Yes," he answered ; " my nephew Hogarth was mar 
 ried yesterday to a lady who is, I understand, one of the 
 worthiest of her sex. She is entirely too good for him. 
 Henceforth I do not expect to have any friendly rela 
 tions with my nephew Hogarth. I hope never to see him 
 or even to hear of him again. My nephew Jack, from 
 whom for many years I have unfortunately, through my 
 own acts, been estranged, has been good enough to forgive 
 me, and henceforth will be my adopted son. It would be 
 unbecoming in me on this occasion to express my opin 
 ion of either of my nephews ; but it can readily be infer 
 red from what I have said. Now, gentlemen, that I have 
 discharged an unpleasant, though an imperative, duty, let 
 us change the subject." 
 
 " By George, Uncle Victor !" exclaimed Mr. Brooks, 
 who with the other two gentlemen had listened with the 
 greatest attention to Mr. Oldmixon s remarks, " that is 
 the manliest and most straightforward speech I ever 
 heard. You re a trump 1" 
 
 Allow me to shake you by the hand, Mr. Oldmixon," 
 said Mr. Partridge, with equal warmth, but, as was nat 
 ural in a stranger, with more dignity. " Your nephew is 
 certainly to be congratulated on having an uncle not 
 ashamed to admit his fault ; and I have no doubt you are 
 equally to be congratulated on your nephew." 
 
 As to Jack, his heart was too full to speak. He had 
 
"A FEAST JOB THE GODS." Ill 
 
 appreciated at its real value every word his uncle had said, 
 and lie began to think that a total revolution had taken 
 place in his character. And he admired above all else 
 the decision and strength of mind that had been exhib 
 ited in seizing the opportunity that had been offered 
 for making an explanation, thus forestalling preposterous 
 rumors that would otherwise be sure to arise, as well as 
 the relation that might be set afloat by what was now 
 the other side of the house. Finally he managed to 
 stammer out his thanks to his uncle, and then the dinner 
 proceeded. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A HORRIBLE DEED. 
 
 "Mr friends," said Mr. Oldmixon, after they had fin 
 ished their soup and were scanning their menus with a 
 view of forming pleasant anticipations of the next course, 
 : I have taken the liberty of asking you to assist in the 
 inauguration of a new dish. It is one that I have myself, 
 after much thought and no little labor, discovered and in 
 vented. It is the one that I am now about to refer to 
 your critical judgments, and this will be the first time that 
 any one save your humble servant will have submitted it 
 to the action of his gustatory nerves. I have named it, 
 in honor of myself, P elites croustades d la Oldmixon." 
 
 As Mr. Oldmixon finished speaking, a servant entered 
 with a dish elaborately garnished, which he placed on the 
 table before that gentleman, and after leaving it there a 
 few moments for the admiration of the company, proceed 
 ed to hand it round, while Mr. Oldmixon went on with 
 an account of the wonderful delicacy. 
 
 " I shall not tell you what it is," he said, " till you have 
 eaten it and given me your honest opinions of it. And 
 mind, I want your real, honor-bright opinions ; for if this 
 production is bad or indifferent 1 want to know the fact 
 just as certainly as though it were good. Such palates 
 as you gentlemen possess are of infinite use to the gastron 
 omist, especially to me ; for as I get older I fear I am 
 losing that dainty, discriminating, and penetrating sense 
 
A HOKKIBLE DEED. 113 
 
 of taste for which I used to be distinguished. Now, my 
 friends, let us in silence concentrate our attention on what 
 the gods have given us." 
 
 Brooks was the first to speak. < By all the deities that 
 ever feasted on Mount Olympus," he exclaimed, shaking 
 hands across the table with Mr. Oldmixon, " I can keep 
 silent no longer. That is, without exception, the most 
 delectable morsel that ever went down my throat. You 
 ought to be crowned king of the gastronomes." 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Partridge ; "you have capped the 
 climax of a long and honorable life with a performance 
 that of itself will hand down your name to posterity as 
 one of the greatest benefactors of mankind. Dainties 
 like this cause us to think that there is, after all, something 
 godlike in the human mind." 
 
 3 Mr. Oldmixon was delighted. He bowed and smiled 
 and rubbed his hands together, and uttered many little 
 deprecatory speeches, which, however, deceived no one. 
 
 Now, Jack, my boy," he said, addressing his nephew, 
 who had already, with the others, been helped a second 
 time, " you are an artist, and can therefore sympathize 
 with a brother artist, even if he does work in a different 
 and perhaps a humbler field. What do you think of my 
 new dish ?" 
 
 " What I could say," replied Jack, " would be common 
 place after the encomiums of Mr. Brooks and Mr. Part 
 ridge, who are both such consummate gourmands ; but I 
 think 1 detect in this most exquisite compound a quality 
 that will commend it to those who are in search of new 
 sensations. You know, doubtless, that physiologists have 
 discovered that there are nerve papillae that only react to 
 certain stimuli, or perhaps 1 should be more correct were I 
 to say that there are certain nerve-centres that only re- 
 
114 MR, OLDMIXON. 
 
 spond to particular excitations. These pctites croustades, 
 to which you have appropriately given your name, appear 
 to me to have the power of rousing into action that part 
 of the brain that presides over the imagination. I have 
 been trying, as you know, to get a subject for Mr. Yander 
 Linden s picture. 1 have read book after book in search 
 of an idea ; I have studied a dozen different systems of 
 religion ; I have drank champagne, sherry and egg, milk- 
 punch, and, what was specially recommended, arrack, but 
 all to no effect. Then 1 have sat with a cigar in my 
 mouth for hours at a time, trying my utmost. 1 might 
 as well have ducked my head in a horse-pond for all the 
 good I received. But hardly had I eaten a mouthful of 
 this brain-tickling compound than the conception began 
 to come ; and ere I had finished one croustade it was be 
 fore me in all its completeness. I am eating another now 
 to fix it indelibly on my mind, just as the photographer 
 fixes the image on his sensitive plate. 
 
 " Bravo ! Mr. Oldmixon," exclaimed Brooks, " you 
 are the most appreciative of us all. No wonder your 
 uncle is proud of you. If 1 had a nephew who could 
 talk that way about any dish 1 might discover, I d cher 
 ish him as the apple of my eye, whatever that may be." 
 
 "Jack, my boy," said Mr. Oldmixon, much moved, 
 " you are a gentleman and a scholar. More than that 1 
 cannot say, except that 1 am grateful. We ll not ask 
 you to tell us what subject the petltes croustades have 
 evolved out of your brain, but you must promise to give 
 us a first look at your picture. Now, my friends, tell me 
 what constitutes the chief constituent of this dish ?" 
 
 One guessed one thing, and one another no two 
 agreeing, however. Brooks thought it was Strasburg 
 goose liver, but admitted that it had a much more delec- 
 
A HORKIBLE DEED. 115 
 
 table flavor than that famous edible. Mr. Partridge at 
 first frankly confessed that he did not know what it was, 
 but afterward thought there was something about it 
 that reminded him of a dish he had eaten in Japan, which 
 was composed mainly of a vegetable, the name of which 
 he had forgotten ; and Jack gave it as his opinion that it 
 consisted essentially of the concentrated essence of the 
 flesh of the green turtle mingled with cocks combs cut 
 into dice. 
 
 Then Mr. Oldmixon, after drinking another glass of 
 old Madeira the wine that had been served with his cu 
 linary triumph related the history that all were anxiously 
 waiting to hear. 
 
 " I have a young medical friend," he said, " who is an 
 assiduous student of physiology. He performs a great 
 many original experiments, and sacrifices numbers of all 
 kinds of animals. He was kind enough, about a month 
 ago, to invite me to witness some of his investigations, and 
 I accordingly went to his laboratory for that purpose. 
 In the course of his procedures he killed a dozen or more 
 splendid frogs, and I saw then what was a revelation to 
 me that that animal has a remarkably large liver. At 
 once the idea occurred to me that something very won 
 derful in the gastronomic art might be made out of frogs 
 livers. He gave me all I wanted, and I took them home 
 with me, and that very night made my first experiment 
 with them. The result, although not entirely satisfac 
 tory, was nevertheless enough to show me that I had 
 made a discovery that ought to immortalize me, if I met 
 with the appreciation to which I felt I was fairly entitled. 
 Of course I got more livers from my friend, and also from 
 several small boys that 1 employed to visit the swamps 
 along the north side of Long Island Sound, and to capture 
 
MR. OLDMIXOK. 
 
 the reptile. As you know, the only parts brought to our 
 markets are the hind legs, which, though good enougli 
 in their way, are in nowise comparable to the liver. I 
 may say, en parenthese, that I have made arrangements 
 with a frog-catcher in Canada to send me every week 
 six dozen frogs livers. Well, I made numerous essays 
 to perfect the modes of cooking the delicacy I had dis 
 covered, and now I have definitely decided upon ten dif 
 ferent methods. The compound you have eaten to-night 
 is one of the best. Of course it requires an artist to cook 
 it a male artist. It appears to be altogether beyond 
 the power of a woman-cook. Now, I ll tell you in gen 
 eral terms how this particular dish is prepared." 
 
 At this Brooks got out his pencil, and proceeded to 
 take notes on the back of his menu of the details given 
 by Mr. Oldmixon. 
 
 " First," said that gentleman, " you cut the livers 
 into dice, then you take a sufficiency of truffles and fresh 
 mushrooms fresh, mind you, Brooks, not those horrid 
 little buttons that come from France which you also cut 
 up, but into very fine pieces not much bigger, in fact, 
 than the head of a pin ; next you add a little rice- flour, 
 then your seasoning salt, pepper, butter a few drops 
 of lemon-juice, and several yolks of eggs. Now, the next 
 stage is very important, and I worked at this a long time 
 and experimented with many things before I got the 
 right one. Nothing can take the place of the substance 
 next to be added. It seems to be the only thing capable 
 of bringing out, in all its ethereal delicacy, the full flavor 
 of the livers ; it is puree of pheasant. Add enough of 
 this to make the consistency of the mass about that of a 
 rather thin mush. Then have your croustades ready. 
 They should be made either of rice, or what is, I think, 
 
A HOEEIBLE DEED. 117 
 
 a little better and to this point I have directed hours of 
 anxious thought of powdered maccaroni. These, as 
 you have doubtless perceived, are of rice ; and the fact 
 is owing to the obstinancy of the great man who presides 
 over the kitchen of this club, and who had the imperti 
 nence to tell me that maccaroni couldn t be powdered 
 fine enough ; they are to be cooked in a bain-marie, and 
 when they are nearly done a little silver funnel should 
 be inserted into each down to the bottom, and a tea- 
 spoonful of old and very dry Madeira poured in. By 
 this arrangement, which is original with me, the wine 
 goes to the bottom, where it is heated, and the ethereal 
 vapors, instead of being dissipated in the air, permeate 
 the mass, and give it their delicious odors and flavors." 
 
 " You are a wonderful man, Mr. Oldmixon," said Mr. 
 Partridge ; "I think 1 recollect your directions suf 
 ficiently to try this dish when I get back to St. Louis. 
 We are famous for our frogs there." 
 
 " I shall try it to-morrow if I can get the livers," said 
 Brooks ; " and I agree with Mr. Partridge in saying that 
 you are a wonderful man. " 
 
 " I ought to have been educated as a cook, I suppose," 
 rejoined Mr. Oldmixon, with great complacency. " I 
 have more respect for a cordon lieu than I have for a 
 bishop." 
 
 As to Jack, he could not conceal his astonishment. 
 His uncle was altogether a different kind of a man from 
 what he had anticipated. He remembered him twelve 
 years ago as irritable, fretful, prone to say disagreeable 
 things, even to those he liked, ready to take offence at 
 trifles or when 110 offence was intended, and then cruel 
 both in language and acts. Now he was good-tempered, 
 anxious to please, considerate in fact, the reverse in 
 
118 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 almost every mental characteristic. "Age," thought 
 Jack, " sits well on him. Some persons become dis 
 agreeable as they get old, but Uncle Victor is certainly 
 an exception." 
 
 The dinner proceeded to the entire satisfaction of Mr. 
 Oldmixon and his guests, and the conversation, under the 
 influence of the associations and, perhaps, in no small 
 degree to the wines, not one of which was commonplace, 
 became more than usually brilliant when compared with 
 the talk that is ordinarily indulged in at New York club 
 dinners. The host interfered no further with the menu 
 till a little while before the canvas-backs were reached. 
 Then he called a servant to him : 
 
 u Go down to the kitchen," he whispered, but loud 
 enough for all at the table to hear him, as he intended 
 they should, u and bring me word from M. David what 
 temperature exists at a point ten inches distant from the 
 front of his fire. I can t trust these Frenchmen," he 
 continued aloud, after the man had gone, " to cook can 
 vas-backs, so 1 prefer to direct the operation myself. A 
 fire too hot or a half minute too long in the roasting 
 spoils the ducks. The heat and the time should be ex 
 quisitely proportioned to each other, and then you have 
 a bird that ought to be held up as the reward for us in 
 the next world, if we do our duty in this." 
 
 Here the servant that he had sent to the kitchen re 
 turned, and handed Mr. Oldmixon a card. 
 
 4 < Sixty-seven and five tenths, he read. That won t 
 do. It must be twice as hot. Go down and tell him. 
 Hello ! Stop ! He s a Frenchman, and uses a centigrade 
 thermometer. Wait a moment." 
 
 He took a pencil from his pocket, and made a h 
 culation on the back of the card. 
 
A IIOKKIBLE DEED. 119 
 
 " It would be 153J Fahrenheit," he resumed. " That 
 will do nicely. Now, are the ducks ready ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir ; everything is in readiness." 
 
 " Very well. Now, go down and give my compli 
 ments to M. David, and request him to be kind enough 
 to observe these directions : place the ducks in front of 
 the fire, with the screen before them, when I ring the 
 bell. Then when I ring it a second time remove the 
 screen ; and when I ring it a third time replace the 
 screen and bring the ducks here as fast as the dumb 
 waiter and your legs can carry them. Now, are you sure 
 you understand ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, sir ; perfectly sure." 
 
 " Then go, and may the Lord have mercy on your 
 soul if you make any mistake, for I shall have none on 
 your body 1" 
 
 As soon as the man disappeared, Mr. Oldmixon rose 
 from the table and went to the end of the room, where a 
 little button projected from the wall, showing the exist 
 ence of communication with an electrical bell. He waited 
 till he thought the man had had time to reach the 
 kitchen, and then he pressed the button. 
 
 " Now," he said, " the screen is being placed in front 
 of the fire and the ducks on the spit behind the screen 
 and ten inches from the fire." After a little time, with 
 his watch in his hand, he again pressed the button. 
 
 " With that," he remarked, as he walked up and down 
 the floor, still holding his watch in his hand, " the 
 screen is removed and the cooking begins. Exactly six 
 teen minutes and a half will be required to accomplish 
 the act to perfection. A half minute more or less will 
 certainly spoil the ducks." 
 
 "Let him alone," said Brooks, in a whisper to the 
 
120 ME. OLDMIXOX. 
 
 other gentlemen. " He ll walk the floor and talk, and 
 you ll certainly get some valuable hints from what he 
 says. I ve seen him at this before. How much hum 
 bug there is in it 1 don t know. Perhaps all this care is 
 necessary. I do know, however, that no canvas-backs 
 in New York or anywhere else are as good as those he 
 cooks. 
 
 " You are men after my own heart," continued Mr. 
 Oldmixon. " Many persons I know would have been 
 disgusted on being told that they had eaten frogs livers. 
 But you were all as pleased over the information as 
 though I had told you that the dish was made of pork 
 and beans. Ha ! ha ! pork and beans ! "Well, I should 
 think so ! The Lord deliver me from pork and beans ! 
 Now, I ve no prejudices ; 1 can eat anything that s 
 good ; I ve eaten rattlesnake, and it s good. I ve eaten 
 crow, and when properly cooked not b iled it s 
 good. I ve eaten shark s fins, and they re as good as the 
 green fat of the turtle. Only one thing was rather dis 
 appointing, and that was wolf-steak ; I tried that once 
 in the Rocky Mountains, and it was simply damnable. It 
 tasted as though it might be cloth woven of leather shoe 
 strings. But the fat of the wolf, when he has any, isn t 
 a bad substitute for butter. 
 
 " I say, Partridge," he continued, addressing that 
 gentleman after looking at the watch in his hand, while 
 he continued to pace the floor, " did you ever eat a 
 peacock ? 
 
 "No," answered that gentleman ; "I can t say that 
 I ve been very venturesome in dietetics. You have 
 given me a lesson, however, that I shall not fail to im 
 prove." 
 
 "What about the peacock, Uncle Victor?" said 
 
A HOEEIBLE DEED. 121 
 
 Brooks, winking at the others, as much as to say, " Now, 
 we ll draw him out." 
 
 " What about the peacock ? Oh, nothing, except that 
 it s had its day, and will probably never regain its former 
 position in gastronomy. Formerly it was food for kings 
 and princes. Hortensius introduced it to the Romans in 
 a magnificent feast that he gave when he was made 
 augur. The price of a peacock in his day was about 
 ten dollars of our money, which, allowing for the depre 
 ciation of gold and silver, would make about fifty dollars 
 now. Florentius says it is a noble bird, whose flesh 
 should only be served to lovers and heroes ; and Donatus 
 says women should not be allowed to eat its flesh, for 
 that it predisposes to vanity, and they are vain enough 
 already ; and Du Boise declares that only men of gentle 
 blood should be permitted to have it on their tables. 
 They roasted it on a spit, and it was always served with 
 its feathers on. Just before cooking it, it was skinned 
 very carefully, and then before sending it to table the 
 skin and feathers were replaced, the crest and tail spread 
 out, and in this gorgeous fashion it made its appearance 
 before the guests. 
 
 " Sixteen minutes," he continued, going to the bell- 
 knob and resting a finger gently on it. " In half a 
 minute our ducks will be done. Excuse me a moment, 
 my friends. This requires all the attention that can be 
 given to it. At another time I ll tell there !" as he 
 pressed strongly on the button. " To the very second. 
 Joseph," to a servant who stood by with a decanter full 
 of ruby wine, waiting for orders, " have you taken the 
 temperature ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "What was it?" 
 6 
 
122 MR. OLDMIXOtf. 
 
 " Sixty-four and a half, sir ; I thought that was near 
 enough." 
 
 " I told you sixty-five, didn t I ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " Then it was a great piece of impertinence for you to 
 put your opinion against mine. I shall report your con 
 duct to the house committee. Bring me the thermom 
 eter," he continued, taking the decanter from the 
 man. The instrument which was passed through a cork 
 was handed to him. lie inserted the cork into the de 
 canter, and slowly pushed the thermometer through the 
 wine, reading off the temperatures as he did so : " Sixty- 
 eight, sixty-seven, sixty-six, sixty-five, sixty-four, sixty- 
 three. From sixty-eight to sixty-three. Now, don t you 
 see," addressing the man, " that this wine ranges from 
 sixty-eight at the top to sixty-three at the bottom ? Now, 
 I turn the decanter upside down two or three times, and 
 now, as you see, the temperature is a uniform sixty-five. 
 Keep it so. Ah, here are our ducks !" as another man 
 entered with four splendid-looking birds on a dish. 
 " Now, my friends, I wouldn t exchange the next half 
 hour of my life for the same length of time in the exist 
 ence of any man on earth." 
 
 He seated himself at the table, and the ducks being 
 passed round, each gentleman took a whole one and 
 proceeded to cut off the breast on each side with a knife 
 as sharp as a razor. Then the carcasses were removed, 
 and in silence the delicious morsels were eaten. Only 
 once was a word spoken, and that was when Mr. Par 
 tridge asked a servant for some currant jelly. Mr. Old- 
 mixon raised his eyes for a moment, but was too polite to 
 make any remark. From that time on, however, his 
 spirits seemed to have declined. He made no more 
 
A HOERIBLE DEED. 123 
 
 speeches, and answered only in monosyllables. His coun 
 tenance wore a dejected air that was totally at variance 
 with the jovial expression it had borne during the early 
 part of the dinner. Brooks understood the matter, but 
 Jack was unable to account for a change so radical as to 
 be almost alarming. He was apprehensive that some 
 thing serious an apoplectic attack, for instance might 
 be about to occur. While he was trying to find a solu 
 tion of the circumstance, Mr. Oldmixon took a little vial 
 from his pocket, and removing the cork held the open 
 mouth to his nose. 
 
 " A little faint," he said, " that is all. I suppose it s 
 the heat. The room is hot, isn t it ?" 
 
 " Yes," answered Jack ; "it is warmer than it need 
 be. Shall I open the window, uncle ? rising as he 
 spoke. 
 
 " No, no ; it s over now. My heart is a little weak, 
 so I m told, and occasionally I have to take a sniff of 
 nitrite of amyl. It acts at once like a charm." 
 
 But although Mr. Oldmixon declared that he was all 
 right, it was evident that there was going to be no more 
 hilarity that night. The rest of the dinner was eaten 
 almost in silence ; and at its close, Mr. Partridge, looking 
 at his watch, pleaded another engagement ; and after a 
 few polite speeches on both sides took his departure. 
 No sooner had the door closed upon him than Mr. Old 
 mixon broke forth : 
 
 " This is the last time that fellow dines with me. 
 Great heavens ! to think that I should have been so im 
 posed upon. 1 took him for a man of gentlemanly in 
 stincts, of fine perceptions, of delicate taste, and I find 
 him to be a boorish, uncouth cad, that it is contamination 
 to have at my table. Brooks, Jack I ask pardon of 
 
124 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 both of you for asking you to meet a low-strung, coarse- 
 minded lout." 
 
 Brooks smiled knowingly, but Jack was astonished at 
 his uncle s vehement abuse of a man for whom all 
 through the early part of the dinner he had shown great 
 respect. 
 
 " What did he do ?" he at least managed to inquire, 
 though he was somewhat apprehensive that in the at 
 tempt to answer his uncle might again experience the 
 inconvenience of having a weak heart. " He seemed to 
 me to be a gentleman." 
 
 Mr. Oldmixon was overcome, and was obliged again to 
 have recourse to his vial. 
 
 " What did he do ?" he shrieked rather than spoke, 
 after he had refreshed himself with a couple of inhala 
 tions. "Didn t you hear him ask for currant jelly? 
 Didn t you see him spread it over the noble flesh on his 
 plate, as though he were daubing a piece of bread with 
 molasses ? Didn t you see him treat the glorious bird as 
 though it were a muscovy ? O Jack, Jack, that you of 
 all men should ask me what he did !" And Mr. Old 
 mixon buried his face in his hands and trembled as 
 though he were seized with a tit of the ague. 
 
 "1 didn t observe him," said Jack, apologetically. 
 " I was so busy with the contemplation and the disposi 
 tion of what 1 had on my own plate that I neither heard 
 nor saw Mr. Partridge. But come, uncle ; we three can 
 afford to forgive him. Evidently he was unconscious of 
 his crime." 
 
 "Yes, that s the worst of it. If he had done it 
 through spite or bravado, or because the duck was badly 
 cooked, I could forgive him ; but to do such a thing as 
 that through ignorance or because he liked it puts a wall 
 
A HORRIBLE DEED. 125 
 
 between him and me that can never come down. ILence- 
 forth our paths through life are as divergent as north 
 and south. The man that puts currant jelly on a canvas- 
 back can never be the associate, much less the friend, of 
 Victor Constantine Oldmixon. 1 have seen the crime 
 committed before, and it has always made me shudder ; 
 but this is the first time, and it shall be the last, that 
 such an outrage has occurred at my table." 
 
 Nothing that either Brooks or Jack could say had the 
 least effect in pacifying Mr. Oldmixon. " It s worse 
 than that other thing," he whispered to Jack as they 
 stood on the porch of the Lucullus Club House while his 
 coupe was driving up. I thought nothing could touch me 
 like that ; but this has sounded a lower depth. Good 
 night. 1 intended to have taken you home with me and 
 to have talked over some matters of great importance, 
 but this has unfitted me for all mental exertion. I ll 
 call for you to-morrow or next day, and bring you down 
 to my house. If I don t, come and see me ; and in the 
 mean time, my boy, think whether it wouldn t be pleas 
 ant for you to live with me. I ll give you a whole floor 
 to yourself, and there s a splendid room that will do for 
 your studio. I m getting old, Jack. Such a thing as 
 this to-night tells on me, and I may go now any day. 
 Good-night again," as Jack, with a few consolatory 
 words, helped him into his carriage. " I ll see you to 
 morrow, or next day at farthest." 
 
 Jack stood on the steps for a moment, thinking of the 
 singular behavior of his uncle. Many circumstances in 
 his conduct, as he had observed it during the twelve 
 hours that had elapsed since the reconciliation, appeared 
 to him to be incompatible with the existence of a sound 
 state of mind. The statement of his love affairs, and es- 
 
126 3111. OLDMIXON. 
 
 pecially of the last one ; the unreasonable prejudice that 
 had been suddenly formed against Hogarth, to the entire 
 disregard of acts on the part of the young man that 
 would, at any time during the last twelve years, have 
 justified renunciation by his uncle ; the intense affection 
 that had sprung up within a few hours for him, Jack ; 
 the excessive interest he had shown in the new dish he 
 had compounded out of frogs livers ; the excessive degree 
 of irritation he had shown at Mr. Partridge s act of put 
 ting currant jelly on the canvas-back ; and last, but cer 
 tainly not least, the existence of a peculiar excitability 
 that Jack could not describe to himself, but which he 
 clearly saw was unnatural, and which had marked his 
 uncle s manner during the dinner, until with Mr. Part 
 ridge s lapsus it had disappeared, to be succeeded by an 
 equally abnormal mental inertia all these facts had 
 made a deep impression upon him, and had kept him 
 through the dinner wondering whether or not his uncle 
 was a lunatic. Several times, just as he had arrived at 
 the conclusion that he certainly was of unsound mind, he 
 would say something that indicated the existence of a 
 force of intellect and a degree of mental equanimity 
 such as Jack could not conceive could be possessed by an 
 insane person. Of course Jack had never given any 
 time to the study of insanity. All he knew of mental 
 aberration he had got from reading accounts of murders 
 and other acts of violence, and of will-trials in the news 
 papers, and from a couple of visits he had paid to a lunatic 
 asylum with a young medical friend when he was study 
 ing types for a picture of Ophelia he was painting. He 
 had observed that at one time his uncle had looked at 
 Mr. Partridge with such a diabolical expression on his face 
 that Jack had, for a moment, feared that he intended to 
 
A HORRIBLE DEED. 127 
 
 throttle the unfortunate gentleman. He had seen just 
 such a look on the countenance of a lunatic, who the 
 next day had killed his keeper by striking him over the 
 head with a wash-tub. Still, he had noticed that Mr. 
 Brooks, who had known Mr. Oldmixon very intimately 
 for many years, did not appear to be astonished at any 
 thing that had occurred. Perhaps, after all, it was only 
 an eccentric manner, showing that his uncle, instead of 
 differing a little from other people, differed a great deal. 
 And with this comforting doubt Jack took a cab that 
 was standing in front of the club house, and was driven 
 to the Vandyke. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A DISAPPOINTED COUPLE. 
 
 AT the two windows of a room in an old and straggling 
 hotel in the ancient city of Annapolis sat Mr. and Mrs. 
 Hogarth Oldmixon. Mr. Hogarth Oldmixon was seated 
 at one window and Mrs. Hogarth Oldmixon at the other, 
 and each was looking eagerly into the deserted street, as 
 though trying to discover something that might relieve 
 the distressing monotony of the situation. There did 
 not appear to be, if this was their object, much chance of 
 a successful result, for the rain was pouring down in tor 
 rents, and not a creature of any kind was visible save the 
 old negro man at the corner who sold crabs, and who 
 gallantly continued to fly his flag, regardless of the un 
 favorable state of the atmosphere. Every now and then 
 a crab would crawl over the edge of the basket in which 
 it, with its companions in captivity, was confined, and 
 endeavor to make its way to the torrent of water that 
 flowed down the gutter ; but the old man was always too 
 quick for it, and with a word and a blow tossed it into 
 the receptacle whence it had come. Mr. and Mrs. 
 Hogarth Oldmixon had watched the old man for consid 
 erably over an hour, and had extracted from his actions 
 all the amusement that it was possible to get. At first 
 they had laughed inordinately at the antics of the vener 
 able negro, most of whose joints appeared to be stiff with 
 rheumatism ; but eventually, as nearly always happens in 
 
A DISAPPOINTED COUPLE. 129 
 
 sncli cases, the most eccentric contortions that he made 
 failed to excite their risible faculties. All mental im 
 pressions and all sensations, however pleasant they may 
 be at first, become wearisome or painful by their con 
 tinuance or frequent repetition. The perfection of physi 
 cal comfort is the absence of any feeling in any part of 
 the body ; and, strange as it may seem, the persistence of 
 a sensorial impression leads to the abolition of sensibility 
 for all other impressions that can be made on the organ 
 receiving them. If a person could be caused to restrict 
 his vision to the sight of one single object, he would be 
 come blind so far as all other objects are concerned ; the 
 hearing of one unvarying sound would cause deafness to 
 all other sounds ; a single sapid substance held in the 
 mouth destroys the perception of taste for other sub 
 stances ; and the mind running constantly on one subject 
 becomes incapable of appreciating others. 
 
 But before this stage is reached a state of the most in 
 tense weariness is experienced. The period required, 
 however, to bring about this condition varies in different 
 persons. In the cases of Mr. and Mrs. Hogarth Old- 
 mi xon an hour had been sufficient. I have known in 
 stances in which, through some peculiar unimpressibility 
 of the brain, the same excitation produced pleasure after 
 hundreds of repetitions. Thus at the theatre one even 
 ing I witnessed the three hundred and seventy-eighth 
 representation of the grand spectacular piece entitled the 
 i Ice Demon of the Frozen Caves. It was full of stupid 
 jokes, and I observed that no one among the audience 
 laughed so long or so loud over each attempted witticism 
 or ludicrous situation as did a member of the orchestra 
 who played the violoncello. So extraordinary apparently 
 was the fact, that during an entr^act I sought out the 
 6* 
 
130 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 leader of the band. 1 found him imbibing lager beer in 
 the cellar, and nothing loath to drink a couple of glasses 
 with me. 
 
 " Who is the man," I asked, " that plays the violon 
 cello ?" 
 
 " Oh, dot s Mr. Sclmnemann." 
 
 " A new member of your splendid orchestra ?" I said, 
 insidiously and interrogatively. 
 
 " Gott in Ilimmel, no ! I dinks 1 have Sclmnemann 
 seven year." 
 
 " And does he play every night ?" 
 
 " I should dink so, and two matinees extra." 
 
 " Then he has played in the orchestra during the 
 three hundred and seventy-eight times that the Ice 
 Demon of the Frozen Caves lias been performed ?" 
 
 " Zurely. If he didn t, don t you thought I would 
 knew it ?" 
 
 " I saw him laughing at the fun of the piece," I said, 
 humbly. 
 
 " Laugh ! I should dink so ! I laugh at him myself 
 two hundred times. Den 1 laugh no more. But Sclm 
 nemann is joost de most schwermiithig saddest man 
 dot lives in New York, and he never laughs only when 
 he sees dot performance, and den he laughs all de while." 
 
 It was the dreariest of dreary spectacles to me after I 
 had seen it once, and yet these men could laugh over it 
 hundreds of times ! 
 
 But Mr. and Mrs. Hogarth Oldmixon were differently 
 constituted. For them especially for Mr. Hogarth Old- 
 mixon variety was the spice of life, and just at this 
 time their life was absolutely free from spice. What 
 was to be done ? Mr. Hogarth had never cultivated the 
 little conversational power that he once had, but had de- 
 
A DISAPPOINTED COUPLE. 131 
 
 veloped a kind that was scarcely adapted to the society 
 to which he was now condemned ; and Mrs. Hogarth, 
 who could talk enough when the conditions were favor 
 able, found it impossible to keep up a conversation with 
 a man who only answered, when he answered at all, with 
 
 a "yes" or a "no." 
 
 They had been married five days, and this was their 
 wedding-journey. The prospect for a cheerful and a 
 happy married life was certainly not bright, and Mrs. 
 Hogarth felt her heart sink within her as she thought of 
 what was probably before her in the long future. She 
 was not a particularly intelligent woman. She had man 
 aged thus far to get through life without any special 
 mental exertion. To be sure, she had thought, when 
 occasion had seemed to require her to think ; but the 
 effort to concentrate her attention upon any subjects but 
 dress and the pleasures of society had been so unpleas 
 ant, that for several years past she had allowed her 
 mother to do for her such thinking as was absolutely 
 necessary should be done by some one in her behalf. 
 When, therefore, Mr. Hogarth Oldmixon, after having 
 seen her at the opera, and being introduced to her under 
 the impression that she was a rich plum worthy of his 
 gathering, had asked her to be his wife, she had answered 
 that she had no objections if mamma approved ; that she 
 had not considered the matter herself, and did not see 
 that it would do any good for her to bother over it ; that 
 mamma knew what was best for her, and that yes, he 
 might kiss her if he cared to, but that for her part she 
 thought such things were very vulgar ; and much else to 
 the same effect. 
 
 Then Mr. Hogarth had sought an interview with Mrs. 
 White, and in the best language at his command had 
 
132 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 opened his heart to that lady regnant in the "White 
 family. 
 
 " We have seen very little of you, Mr. Oldmixon," she 
 had replied, smoothing the front of her dress with her 
 fat hands, and settling herself into her chair, as though 
 getting ready for a long conversation. " Our sets are dif 
 ferent. Society in New York is so large, that it is im 
 possible to know everybody worth knowing. You are 
 the son of Mr. Victor Oldmixon, I believe ?" 
 
 " No, madam, I am his nephew." 
 
 " 1 thought you were his son. Mr. Condor, who 
 assumes to know everything, certainly told me that you 
 were his son." 
 
 " I am only his nephew." 
 
 " Of course I am obliged to consider the future of 
 my dear child. She is so inexperienced and so far re 
 moved from all mercenary motives that she would never 
 think of such a thing herself. She would give her heart, 
 and then she would think nothing more was required. 
 But we mothers, Mr. Oldmixon, must look farther. 1 
 thought you were Mr. Oldmixon s son, and that you 
 would, therefore, be the heir to his estate, which, though 
 1 understand it is not very large as these things are con 
 sidered in our day, is ample enough for all practical pur 
 poses. As you are not his son, I am obliged, in the in 
 terests of my sweet child, to ask you what are your pres 
 ent means of support, and what are your prospects for 
 the future ?" 
 
 Hogarth was not a diplomatist, nor skilled in didactic 
 fence, especially when his antagonist was a woman. He 
 knew very little of refined and educated women, though 
 his acquaintance with certain representatives of a large 
 class of the sex was not restricted to narrow limits. He 
 
A DISAPPOINTED COUPLE. 133 
 
 had seen Camilla White at the opera, and he had fallen 
 in love with her at first sight, for reasons that must have 
 been fully as inexplicable to himself as they were to 
 others. To be sure, her father was supposed to have 
 money ; but though this fact may have had some influ 
 ence in causing him to continue his addresses, it could 
 have had none in the origination of his passion. She 
 was not pretty, she was not distinguished-looking, she 
 was not, as a rule, even well dressed, though doubtless 
 her clothing was expensive ; and yet two Oldmixons 
 uncle and nephew had fallen violently in love with her, 
 and she had been the innocent cause of their estrange 
 ment. 
 
 Now, Hogarth never told the truth when a lie would 
 better or even equally serve his purpose. His uncle 
 made him an allowance of three thousand dollars a year, 
 and had told him that he might consider himself his heir. 
 Over and over again he had said to him : " Hogarth, my 
 boy, all that I have in the world will be yours when I 
 die. That milksop Jack, who I don t believe has a 
 drop of Oldmixon blood in his veins, shall never have 
 a cent of my money;" and Hogarth had duly said, 
 " Thank you, Uncle Victor, " without appearing to notice 
 the insult to his mother, which, as the reader knows, was 
 the same that Jack had resented so energetically while 
 only a boy. 
 
 He might, therefore, with perfect truth have declared 
 that, although only a nephew, he was Mr. Oldmixon s 
 sole heir ; but this of itself would not altogether have an 
 swered his purpose ; so instead of adding, as was the fact, 
 that his uncle allowed him three thousand a year, he told 
 Mrs. White, apprehensive doubtless that she would deem 
 this sum insufficient to maintain her daughter in the 
 
134 MR. OLDMIXOtf. 
 
 condition to winch she was accustomed, that his allow 
 ance was ten thousand, and that doubtless this would 
 be increased on his marriage. 
 
 "My uncle is seventy-five years of age," he said. 
 " He does not spend more than five or six thousand a 
 year, for he lives in one of his own houses, and takes his 
 meals at his club. His income is certainly at least thirty 
 thousand a year, and I am confident that when I marry 
 he will make mine fifteen thousand." 
 
 All this looked very promising to Mrs. White. She 
 saw already her daughter well settled in life as the wife 
 of a man of ample income and of great expectations. 
 
 " I will be equally frank with you, Mr. Oldmixon," 
 she said, relaxing greatly in the frigidity of manner that 
 had characterized the early part of the interview. " Mr. 
 White is what is generally called rich, but he has eleven 
 children, and when my thirds come out of his estates 
 there will not be over two hundred and fifty thousand 
 for each. lie has authorized me to say that the allow 
 ance of three thousand dollars that he now gives Camilla 
 will be continued after her marriage, but that she will 
 get nothing more till his death. To be sure, he is seventy- 
 two, but he is hale and hearty for his age." 
 
 This information had a somewhat depressing influence 
 on Mr. Hogarth ; but he reflected that with an uncle, 
 whose heir he was, seventy-five years old and a father- 
 in-law seventy-two, it could not be very long before one 
 or the other or both would shuftie off this mortal coil, 
 and leave him in comparative affluence. His own three 
 thousand and Camilla s like amount would do very well 
 for the present, and besides he was really confident that 
 his uncle would at least double his allowance, so he made 
 a magnanimous answer to the effect that it was Camilla, 
 
A DISAPPOINTED COUPLE. 135 
 
 not money, that he wanted, and Mrs. White had there 
 upon graciously given her consent, remarking as she did 
 so that this at least was an instance of that perfect disin 
 terestedness as regarded pecuniary matters that ought to 
 attend in all affairs of the heart, " except, Mr. Old 
 mixon," she added, " that every mother is bound to see 
 that her daughter shall not want for the comforts of 
 life." So the matter was settled, and Camilla "White in 
 due time became the wife of Hogarth Oldmixon. 
 
 Immediately before his marriage he had written a 
 letter to his uncle, informing him that he was going to 
 Washington and Annapolis on his wedding tour, that he 
 expected to be absent about ten days, and that on his 
 return he should be very happy to present Mrs. Hogarth 
 Oldmixon to her respected relative. 
 
 " She seems almost to know you," he added. " She 
 has seen you so often from her windows, which are just 
 opposite yours, that she has formed quite an affection for 
 you, and she winders why, since our engagement, you 
 have not called on her." 
 
 This letter lay on Mr. Oldmixon s desk for several 
 hours unopened, as was often the case with the commu 
 nications of his dutiful nephew, and when read, as it was 
 the next day, had not added to Mr. Oldmixon s peace of 
 mind. On the contrary, it had made him distinctly un 
 comfortable. 
 
 " I knew she loved me," he said, mournfully, " and 
 now that scoundrel has carried her off. Bitterly shall he 
 rue his cruelty before I ve done with him." 
 
 Mr. Hogarth looked up and down the street, and then 
 at the sky for the twentieth time at least. 
 
 " I believe it s going to rain all day," he said, at last. 
 "If it would only stop now we might go and see the 
 
136 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 Naval Academy. That s what we came here for, was it 
 not ?" 
 
 " Indeed, I don t know," answered his wife, with her 
 accustomed indifference. " I left it all to you. I sup 
 posed there was some reason for your wanting to come 
 here." 
 
 " So there was a reason, but I ve been disappointed. 
 I expected to meet a friend here, and now 1 find I ve 
 got to stay here three days before she comes. 
 
 " A lady !" exclaimed Camilla, roused into something 
 like interest by her husband s speech. 
 
 r( Yes, a lady," he answered, with something like a 
 sneering tone in his voice. " Oh, you needn t be jeal 
 ous," he continued, with a laugh. " She s sixty years 
 old, and she owes me two thousand dollars. She s 
 going to pay it, and that s why I want to see her. It s 
 money I won from her son at a little game of draw 
 poker a year ago. Now, Mrs. Oldmixon, are you sat 
 isfied ?" 
 
 " I wasn t dissatisfied. You can have as many friends 
 as you like, men or women." 
 
 " Well, you are a cool one, I must say," he observed, 
 after looking at her somewhat contemptuously for a 
 moment. " You mean to say you don t care how many 
 lady friends I have ?" 
 
 " Whatever suits you will suit me. I suppose we ll 
 get tired of each other after a while, as married people 
 generally do." 
 
 Well, for my part," said Hogarth, not to be out 
 done in nonchalance, "I m tired already." 
 
 Mr. Hogarth was a pretty bad fellow, though not 
 quite so desperately wicked as his uncle had made him 
 out to be in his conversation witli Barbara Ilenschel. 
 
A DISAPPOINTED COUPLE. 137 
 
 He was a drunkard, a gambler, a liar, a consorter with 
 vile people of both sexes, and he had probably, without 
 having formed any distinct intention of doing such a 
 thing, somewhat hastened his mothers death. But he 
 had not stolen money from Mr. Oldmixon, as that gentle 
 man had alleged, nor had he perpetrated any other crime 
 that would render him amenable to the law. There are 
 many offences which, though they do not consign the 
 perpetrator to the penitentiary, place him outside the 
 pale of respectable society ; and of these Hogarth Old 
 mixon had committed more than the share that ordinarily 
 falls to the lot of the social outcast. Indeed, the total 
 would, had it been known, have been sufficiently appall 
 ing to any one with a spark of decency in his composi 
 tion. As it was, no one person knew the extent of 
 Hogarth Oldmixon s wickedness so well as he knew it 
 himself, and hence his reputation was better than he 
 deserved. If all those that were acquainted with his 
 conduct could have come together and have compared 
 notes, each one of them would have been astonished at 
 the revelations of the others. As the knowing ones, 
 however, were to a greater or less extent participators in 
 his lapses against the laws of decency and morality, it 
 was not very likely that he incurred any great risk of 
 exposure. He was very reticent even with his intimate 
 companions in regard to conduct of his with which they 
 were not particularly concerned, and he had the reputa 
 tion of being a remarkably shrewd, sharp, self-reliant, 
 secretive, and, to a certain extent, unscrupulous man. 
 The limit to his scrupulousness was his uncle. Whether 
 he really was attached to the old gentleman or not was 
 known to no one but himself. He always, so far as ex 
 ternals went, treated him with respect, but this was with 
 
138 MR. OLBMIXO^. 
 
 sucli a man much more likely to be based on policy tlian 
 on affection. He had several times, however, been 
 strongly tempted by himself and others to perpetrate 
 some act of fraud on his uncle, but he had never yet 
 been able to reconcile conduct of the kind with his con 
 science. 
 
 He was three years younger than Jack, and, as the 
 reader already knows, had taken sides with his uncle in 
 the quarrel into which his brother had been forced. 
 Since the rupture he had had nothing to do with him, 
 though once or twice, when his funds had been low, and 
 he had heard how well Jack was getting on in the world, 
 he had thought of applying to him for pecuniary assist 
 ance. Reflection, however, had tended to convince him 
 both of the impropriety and the uselessness of such an 
 appeal. 
 
 It was, perhaps, all things considered, fortunate that 
 his wife was not possessed of any great degree of refined 
 sensibility or was deeply attached to him. She there 
 fore smiled when he remarked that he was already on 
 the stool of repentance, but made no other answer, doubt 
 less for the reason that it was entirely useless for her to 
 express a concurrence that it was quite obvious she felt. 
 
 " I say, Milly," he remarked, after a few minutes 
 silence, during which he had, what was an unusual thing 
 for him, read a few pages in a recently published novel, 
 " I shouldn t be surprised if we ve made a big mis 
 take. I don t see though how matters are going to be 
 helped. We re tied together for life, I suppose, and 
 we ve got to make the best of a bad bargain. The hero 
 in this book, when he found out that he had married the 
 wrong woman, blew his brains out ; but I m not fool 
 enough to do that." 
 
A DISAPPOINTED COUPLE. 139 
 
 " I might go home, and then you could get a divorce 
 on the ground of desertion." 
 
 " That s so ! You seem to have been thinking the 
 matter over. By George ! To think of a girl of your 
 age and brought up as strictly as you ve been brought 
 up, knowing so much about divorce 1" 
 
 A knock at the door interrupted Mrs. Oldmixon in 
 any reply she might have been about to make, and a ser 
 vant entering with a letter still further indisposed her to 
 give any answer. She always got rid of discussions when 
 there was the least show of an excuse for so doing. 
 There was ample reason, as she soon discovered, for de 
 ferring the further discussion of the subject to a time 
 sufficiently remote for her to allow of her giving it ample 
 consideration. 
 
 " A letter from Ridley," said Mr. Hogarth, reading 
 the name printed in one corner of the envelope, " and 
 it s forwarded from "Washington. I don t see what 
 reason he has for writing to me, unless it s to tell me 
 that the old gentleman has seen the propriety of increas 
 ing my allowance without waiting for the suggestion to 
 come from his dutiful nephew. 
 
 He tore open the envelope and read the letter. It was 
 short, and, to judge by the expression of his face, the 
 contents were not of a character to cause pleasure, and 
 this impression was heightened by the remarks that fell 
 from his lips as he finished the perusal, and sat ap 
 parently for the moment half stupefied with astonishment 
 and anger. 
 
 " Well," he said, when he had in a measure recovered 
 from the immediate effects that the information had pro 
 duced. " This is the very devil ! I don t understand it 
 at all. Something s gone wrong that s certain." 
 
140 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 Mrs. Hogarth raised her eyes at these words, and 
 looked at her husband as though she had some half- 
 formed expectation that he would enlighten her ; but 
 she did not intimate by words that she entertained such 
 an idea. 
 
 " If you knew what was in this letter, Mrs. Old- 
 mixon," continued her husband, rising as he spoke, and 
 walking up and down the floor with the letter still in his 
 hand, " you wouldn t take the matter so devilish quietly, 
 for you d discover another cause for disappointment in 
 me. You d find out that you d married a beggar." 
 
 At this Mrs. Oldmixon roused herself sufficiently to 
 ask what was the matter. 
 
 " Just about the worst thing that could happen. Lis 
 ten to this, and if you ve got a heart I rather think 
 the strings will be stretched a little when you get the 
 news through your head : 
 
 " DEAR Sm : I am instructed by Mr. Victor Oldmixon 
 to notify you, that the allowance of three thousand dol 
 lars that he has hitherto made you will cease with the 
 current month. 
 
 " I am also instructed to say that any expectations you 
 may have entertained relative to being Mr. Oldmixon s 
 heir may as well be abandoned, as he has formed views 
 in regard to the disposition of his property into which 
 you do not enter. 
 
 " And I am further desired by Mr. Oldmixon to in 
 form you that the relation of uncle and nephew between 
 him and you exists now, and will exist in the future, only 
 in name, and that it will be quite useless for you to seek 
 personally, or by letter, or by other means for a revoca 
 tion of his action in any of the points referred to in this 
 
A DISAPPOINTED COUPLE. 141 
 
 letter. Henceforth you and lie are strangers to each 
 
 other. 
 
 " Your obedient servant, 
 
 " THEOBALD RIDLEY." 
 
 " Fd give all 1 am worth," he continued, excitedly, 
 " to know what it all means. He must be crazy. I ve 
 done nothing to put him into such a passion with me, 
 for he is furiously angry, just as he was with Jack a 
 dozen or more years ago. By G d ! I believe he s at 
 the bottom of it all. He s got hold of the old fool and 
 has cut me out. 
 
 Another knock at the door was followed by the 
 entrance of the servant with a second letter which he 
 apologized for having overlooked, though it had come 
 in the same mail as the first. 
 
 " Ah !" exclaimed Mr. Hogarth, opening it after the 
 man had left the room, " this is from Masters. Now I 
 shall know the ins and outs of the business. He s Rid 
 ley s clerk you know, and a friend of mine. He d better 
 be. I could Well, never mind what I could do. 
 Let s see what he has to say : 
 
 " MY DEAK ME. HOGARTH : Mr. Victor Oldmixon was 
 down a couple of days ago, and from some cause or other, 
 the nature of which I could not ascertain, is very indig 
 nant against you. He has directed that your allowance 
 be stopped, and has made a new will, giving the whole 
 of his estate to your brother John, on condition that he 
 marries somebody whose name was left blank in the draft 
 of the will for him to fill up. Mr. Ridley knows who, 
 but, of course, it s no use trying to get it out of him. If 
 your brother does not marry this woman within a year 
 
142 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 after your uncle s decease, the whole estate goes to her. 
 The idea appears to be to force Mr. John into marrying 
 her. For what reason you may be able to tell I can t even 
 guess. The whole scheme appears to me to look very 
 much as though it was the offspring of an insane mind, 
 and if such is the case, you would probably, from your 
 intimate acquaintance with Mr. Victor, be able to furnish 
 proof that would satisfy the surrogate or a jury. He 
 can t live much longer, and, although you can t attack 
 the will till it is offered for probate, you might very 
 readily begin now to gather evidence and to talk the mat 
 ter up. If you can manage to give him a reputation for 
 insanity before his death, you will have done a great 
 deal. 
 
 " I take this occasion to inform you that I am about 
 setting up for myself, and that I shall make a specialty 
 of practising in the surrogate s court. It will give me 
 great pleasure to look after your interests in this or in 
 any other connection. 
 
 u Very respectfully, 
 
 " Your obedient servant, 
 
 "JEREMIAH MASTERS." 
 
 Mrs. Oldmixon had listened with all the attention of 
 which she was capable to the reading of these letters. 
 The effect upon her was not, on the whole, inspiriting, 
 though a hot hot for her feeling of anger was engen 
 dered within her breast. She was quick enough to per 
 ceive that the means for a comfortable support had been 
 suddenly taken away, and that they would have in future 
 to depend upon the three thousand dollars allowed her 
 by her father. She saw, also, that the hopes of wealth 
 that had been developed in her by a consideration of the 
 
A DISAPPOINTED COUPLE. 143 
 
 relation of heir that her husband had borne to his uncle, 
 were also dashed to the ground. All this was bad 
 enough, but it was as nothing compared to the indigna 
 tion she felt against him for the fraud that his reading 
 of Mr. Ridley s letter showed he had practised upon her 
 and her mother. It was not often that she got angry, 
 for anger was not only troublesome in itself, but was 
 likely to lead to complications that were themselves 
 sources of discomfort, and the chief object that Camilla 
 Oldmixon nde White had in continuing to exist was her 
 own personal comfort, to the exclusion, if necessary, of the 
 personal comfort of every other person in the world. 
 Now, her comfort had been ruthlessly interfered with. 
 This man had come to her mother with a lie. He had 
 told her that his allowance was ten thousand a year, and 
 this letter that had just been read showed that it had 
 never been over three thousand. He had, therefore, 
 cheated her out of seven thousand a year ten thousand 
 in fact, for now he had nothing, and all his magnificent 
 prospects had gone, doubtless through some act of his 
 own, that he was now ashamed or afraid to confess. 
 
 She had kept silent during the reading of the letters, 
 but her anger was accumulating in force, as fact after 
 fact was forced upon her attention. She would have 
 broken out when Hogarth had finished with the first let 
 ter, but the entrance of the servant with another had had 
 the effect of calming her for the time being. For, she 
 argued, it might be that this second communication was 
 a reversal of the first, and, in that case, rage would have 
 been an exertion that she might have spared herself. 
 When, however, she learned that instead of being a con 
 tradiction of the other letter, it was a full and detailed 
 confirmation, she could restrain herself no longer. 
 
144 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 " You have committed a. fraud," she exclaimed. 
 " You told my mother that your allowance was ten 
 thousand a year. I say nothing of what you declared 
 relative to your expectations. You may honestly have 
 had them, but this other was a deception in regard to a 
 matter of fact about which there could have been no 
 mistake. You told a lie, a deliberate, wilful lie, for the 
 purpose of entrapping me into a marriage with you. If 
 I had not believed what you said, 1 should have let you 
 rot in the street before I d have married you." With 
 which words Mrs. Oldmixon left the window and sat 
 down in a rocking-chair near the centre of the room, 
 and in her excitement rocked herself vigorously. 
 
 Mr. Hogarth was astonished. This exhibition of rage 
 on the part of his wife was a revelation of possibilities 
 of character that he had not hitherto supposed her to 
 possess. She had taken everything thus far with such a 
 degree of indifference, had scarcely ever replied other 
 wise than by an expressionless smile to his most cutting 
 observations, and had evinced so little interest in him or 
 his fortunes, or, for the matter of that, in their combined 
 fortunes, that he had supposed her to be one of those 
 women that take what comes to them, whether good or 
 bad, with equal equanimity. This outburst was, there 
 fore, something for which he was altogether unprepared, 
 and for a moment he was in doubt what kind of a 
 reply to make. The fact that he had deceived her and 
 her mother never entered as a disturbing factor into his 
 reflections on the subject. He had deceived so many 
 persons in ways much worse than that that he had adopted 
 on this occasion, that it failed altogether to touch his con 
 science. That he had said " ten " when he ought to 
 have said " three" was, in his estimation, a small mat- 
 
A DISAPPOINTED COUPLE. 145 
 
 ter. He certainly did not intend to descend to the 
 humiliation of asking her forgiveness. On the contrary,, 
 after a very little thought, he resolved that he would 
 brave it out, and his wife might do what she pleased. 
 He did not see what she could do. She could use her 
 tongue on him, it was true, but he could, he rather 
 thought, beat her at that game, skilful and reckless as 
 she might be in its exercise. And then he would always 
 have the alternative of getting out of her presence if the 
 fire became too hot. He had subdued women before in 
 his day women much more formidable than this one, 
 he thought, and he had invariably found that it was best 
 in all contests with them not to fire blank cartridges, but 
 to open ruthlessly at point-blank range with all the artil 
 lery he could bring to war. Yes, he would give her a 
 lesson at once. He would show her just what kind of a 
 man she had to deal with, and he flattered himself that 
 she would be as much astonished at the knowledge she 
 would obtain as he had been with the demonstration she 
 had given him. It would be an immense saving of 
 trouble, and he thought w r ould be far more efficacious in 
 the long run. One crushing victory would be better 
 than even a long and uninterrupted series of small ones. 
 Besides, he was in the humor for crushing somebody, 
 and that somebody might as well be a woman, though 
 the woman was his wife. He was not afraid of women. 
 7 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 BARBARA WOKKS AND THINKS. 
 
 MR. OLDMTXON and his remarkable story were in Bar 
 bara s thoughts for several days after his visit. Time and 
 ao-ain the idea occurred to her that he was insane, and that 
 the whole account that he had given of his loves and his 
 nephews was a figment of his imagination. Her father 
 encouraged her in this opinion. The old man was of a 
 practical turn of mind,and frequently saw mental derange 
 ment in the conduct of people that was not in accordance 
 with his conceptions of healthy mental action, 
 are more lunatics out of the asylums than in them," he 
 was accustomed to say when some particularly erratic pel 
 f ormance was brought to his knowledge. 
 
 < Half the world s insane, in my opinion. 1 ou ve only 
 to read the newspapers to discover that fact. Indeed you 
 needn t even do that. Only go into the business of tax 
 idermy and you ll find it out quickly enough. Why, 
 half the people that I do work for are as mad as March 
 hares. I don t suppose, however, that we ve got a mo 
 nopoly of the cranks ;" and then he would laugh heartily, 
 doubtless as much from the consciousness that he, at any 
 rate, was in his sound mind, as from the conviction t 
 half the rest of mankind was not. 
 
 But as to this Mr. Oldmixon, my clear," he said 1 
 Barbara, " whether he s crazy or not need not Concern 
 us We re not likely to see him again. So, we d bett 
 
BAEBAEA WOEKS AND THINKS. 147 
 
 go our own way and let him go his, whether it s a crazy 
 one or not." 
 
 " I m sure he s not crazy, father," answered Barbara. 
 " He may be different from other men in many things, but 
 I don t think you should find fault with him for that, for 
 you ve often said that the tendency of civilization was to 
 destroy the individual differences that gave interest to life 
 up to a hundred years or so ago." 
 
 " Yes, yes. I said that, and I say it now. Machinery 
 and steam and electricity and travel, and, above all, print 
 ing newspapers and books are gradually reducing man 
 kind to a state of uniformity. Look at the mere matter 
 of dress ! Why, the last time I was in Denmark, the men 
 and women of my native village looked as though they 
 had just come from a New England town. All through 
 Europe you see the same thing. It s getting to be the 
 same with their thoughts too. Take out politics, and all 
 the civilized nations think alike." 
 
 " And then when a man comes who is different from 
 the others and thinks for himself, you call him a lunatic. " 
 
 " I m afraid you re right, my girl." 
 
 " Well, if that s the sort of a lunatic Mr.Oldmixon is, 
 I ve no objection to your calling him one." 
 
 " Let him drop, my dear," persisted the old man, from 
 some vague idea of jealousy, which was very apt to arise 
 in his breast when Barbara evinced any particular interest 
 in any one man or woman. " If he ever comes in our 
 way again it will be time enough to talk about him. 
 "Now tell me about this silver fox," going, as he spoke, to 
 the glass case in which the partially mounted skin lay. 
 " The gentleman that brought it here was very partic 
 ular in his directions about expression. As you know, 
 it is the most difficult of all animals to approach, or to 
 
148 ME, OLDMIXON. 
 
 trap, or to catcli in any other way, and I want you, my 
 dear, to bring all your knowledge and skill to bear on the 
 matter of indicating the shrewdness of the animal. It 
 is all ready now for your work. I ll just moisten it a 
 little, and then you can take it in hand." 
 
 Barbara looked at the animal reflectively for several 
 minutes, apparently considering how she could best bring 
 out in her work the characteristic qualities of the silver 
 
 fox. 
 
 " We ve only mounted ten silver foxes since you began 
 the business," she said, after looking over a large book 
 that she took from a shelf near by, " and seven of these 
 were during the first twenty years after you came here. 
 That would seem to show that the animal is getting 
 
 scarcer." 
 
 Yes, or that it is now so valuable that people would 
 rather have the two or three hundred dollars each skin 
 will fetch than to have it stuffed and set up in their 
 
 houses." 
 
 u I ve never mounted a silver fox, father. Don t you 
 
 think you had better do this one ?" 
 
 "No, Barbara, I don t think anything of the kind. 
 You know the habits of the animal better than I do, and 
 you know how to mould the face into the proper expres 
 sion infinitely better than I, or, indeed, any one I know 
 of. The gentleman could have had it mounted for ten 
 dollars, but he chose to come here and pay fifty for 
 Mr. Maurice told him he would get a work of art here." 
 
 " Did he tell you how he got the fox, or give you an 
 account of his hunt for it ? Any information on these 
 points would be of great assistance in mounting the 
 specimen. 
 
 No ; he only told me that last winter he visited a 
 
BAEBAEA WOEKS AKD THINKS. 149 
 
 friend at Fort Kesolution, on Great Slave Lake. This 
 gentleman was a high official in the service of the 
 Hudson s Bay Company, and gave his visitor the oppor 
 tunity for many stirring adventures in the pursuit of skins, 
 of which he was not slow to avail himself." 
 
 " Then he s a great traveller, I suppose ?" 
 
 "1 don t know about that. He must be fond of ad 
 venture, or he wouldn t fancy spending a winter at Fort 
 Resolution." 
 
 "He didn t shoot the fox. There were no bullet- 
 holes in the skin." 
 
 " No ; he either caught it in a trap or poisoned it." 
 
 "I hope he didn t poison it," said Barbara; " that 
 is such a mean way of killing an animal." 
 
 Then again, after a few minutes, during which she had 
 examined the stuffed skin, and which was ready to be 
 placed in position on its temporary platform : "I wish 
 I knew how he caught it. There must be a story about 
 the adventure, and if I knew it I could make use of it in 
 getting ideas for setting the animal up." 
 
 "Well, my dear, you can ask the owner to tell you 
 all about it, for he s coming here this morning to get his 
 treasure. He insisted on calling for it. He ll be disap 
 pointed, I m afraid, unless you work pretty hard for the 
 next hour." 
 
 " Oh, he s coming for it this morning ! Then I think 
 I ll wait till he can tell me something about how he 
 caught it. I m sorry to disappoint him, but I think he 
 will be pleased if I can carry out a plan 1 have for giving 
 him a good piece of work. So, if you ve no objections, 
 I ll finish that apteryx that Mr. Balman sent here." 
 " Yery well, my dear ; you can do as you please." 
 " What an uninteresting bird an apteryx is !" she said, 
 
150 ME. OLDMIXCKN". 
 
 after she had spent a few minutes in getting its legs into 
 proper shape and setting its head in the most advanta 
 geous position. There is so little opportunity for making 
 a striking form. It s about equal, I suppose, to making 
 a statue of an armless man. I can never quite get over 
 the idea that the apteryx is a monstrosity, like the man 
 without arms who plays the violin and writes letters and 
 cuts silhouettes with his toes." 
 
 66 Ay, ay ; and it isn t remarkable for sense either. I 
 had a live one once, and every time any one came near 
 its cage it rammed its head into the sand." 
 
 "It isn t the only animal that thinks it can escape 
 danger by shutting its eyes to it. Man does the same 
 thing. What time is the owner of the silver fox coming ?" 
 
 " I suppose he ll call at about twelve o clock. These 
 fine fellows don t get out much before that time in the 
 morning." 
 
 " Is he a fine fellow ? 1 thought you said the other 
 day that he didn t look as though he had more money 
 than he wanted." 
 
 " Ila, ha, ha !" laughed the old man ; " that was only 
 my clumsy attempt at a joke. Did you ever, my Bar 
 bara, see a man, or a woman either, that looked as if they 
 had more money than they wanted ? There may be such 
 people, but 1 don t think you or I have ever seen them." 
 
 " Did he seem to care much how the mounting was 
 done 1 mean," she added, " did he appear to know what 
 he wanted ?" 
 
 " Ay, did he !" exclaimed the old man. " lie knows 
 what s what, that you may depend upon. Do you think 
 he d have come here if he didn t, and pay fifty dollars 
 for what Bangs would charge him ten for ? That looks, 
 too, as if he had money enough, doesn t it ?" 
 
BARBARA WORKS AND THINKS. 151 
 
 The question was hardly one that required an answer, 
 and Barbara went on with her work, wondering, how 
 ever, what kind of a man he could be that had such a 
 high appreciation of their art as to pay five times as 
 much for the mounting of his silver fox as he could get 
 it done for by another taxidermist. Then, after a little 
 cogitation over this enlightened and doubtless accom 
 plished person, and speculations as to his occupation and 
 appearance, her thoughts reverted to Mr. Oldmixon, and 
 especially to what he had told her relative to his two 
 nephews. She could not help feeling an interest in them, 
 for had she not decided their fate ? Ilow strange it was 
 that she should have been thus powerful in determining 
 a question of such vast importance as the one Mr. Old 
 mixon had submitted to her, and one that concerned so 
 nearly two men that she had yet never seen, and until a 
 few days since had never even heard of ! She hoped 
 she had done right. And yet, situated as she was, with 
 scarcely a probability that she would even become ac 
 quainted with either one of the brothers, she felt that, 
 in regard to this point, there would always be some doubt 
 in her mind. One had, through her, been reduced from 
 a position of wealth to what she had understood from 
 Mr. Oldmixon was one of destitution. He had been the 
 favored one, and had been brought up in luxury, with 
 all his wants supplied as soon as they were formed, and 
 with expectations of succeeding, in the course of nature, 
 to a large fortune. What would be his feelings toward 
 her, she thought, if he knew of the agency she had had 
 in reducing him to a penniless condition ? She had been 
 told that he was bad past belief, but there must be some 
 good in him. Everybody had that. Even Satan, as de 
 scribed by Milton, was brave and free from sycophancy. 
 
152 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 There must be something in this young man that should 
 have plead with her for a less condign punishment than 
 that of taking all from him. He too might be brave and 
 free from servility ; and if so, was not his punishment too 
 great ? 
 
 And as to the other : was it quite certain that he was 
 as worthy as his uncle, with his heart embittered against 
 the one whom he supposed had injured him, thought 
 him to be ? Assuredly, there had not been that frame of 
 mind present in Mr. Oldmixon that it was desirable should 
 exist when a matter so important as the one in question 
 was to be decided. If this new favorite were so good 
 and noble as his uncle now represented him to be, why 
 had he been neglected for all these years, and his unworthy 
 brother exalted over him ? Mr. Oldmixon, though cer 
 tainly eccentric, was, as she plainly saw, no fool. Was it 
 within the limits of possibility that, knowing these two as 
 well as he did, he would have shamefully oppressed the 
 one, and, with an equal disregard of justice, have exalted 
 the other above his merits during a dozen years, and then 
 only have been prompted by an unforeseen occurrence to 
 act righteously ? It was hard for her to believe this, and 
 yet she did believe it. There had been something that 
 she could not quite understand about Mr. Oldmixon s 
 manner that had carried conviction with it. Perhaps it 
 was his earnestness, perhaps his unconscious nervousness, 
 perhaps something in the expression of his countenance 
 that he had not intended should appear, but that, never 
 theless, told her he was speaking the truth. No, he had 
 not lied. lie might be insane of that she was not alto 
 gether sure but he had been honest with her. Was a 
 lunatic, she asked herself, necessarily a liar or always in 
 capable of perceiving matters correctly ? 
 
BABBAEA WOEKS AND THINKS. 153 
 
 Then suddenly an idea occurred to her that filled her 
 with delight, and which, if it could be carried out, would, 
 she believed, lead to a satisfactory settlement of the whole 
 affair, so far as the money involved was concerned. It 
 was this : If the elder brother were the good and mag 
 nanimous mail that his uncle represented him to be, he 
 would very willingly divide with the unfortunate one, 
 who had so suddenly, and without any special fault of his 
 own, so far as she could see, fallen from grace. It might 
 safely be left in his hands with the confidence that he 
 would act justly and kindly. She was afraid that she was 
 prevented by her implied promise from revealing to him 
 any part of the story told her by Mr. Oldmixon so long 
 as he lived. Well, there would be no occasion for her to 
 open her mouth now. He had not yet come into posses 
 sion of the estate. When it was his, she could speak, and 
 doubtless he would heed what she said, and do what was 
 right. 
 
 " There, father," she said, after all this and much more 
 to a like effect had passed through her mind, "I have 
 done the best I could with the apteryx." 
 
 " Why, Miss Barbara," said Peter, who at that moment 
 entered the workshop from the office, " you ve made that 
 bird so beautiful that if he could see out of those glass 
 eyes, and look at himself in the glass, he wouldn t know 
 himself." 
 
 " Do you think so, Peter ?" replied Barbara, smiling. 
 " If you are right, the best thing I can do is to remount 
 the wretch. If one apteryx doesn t know another apteryx 
 when he sees him, something is wrong with one of them. 
 Either the apteryx that looks is incapable of seeing things 
 properly, or the apteryx that is looked at is not as he 
 should be. Now, if this apteryx were to be endowed with 
 7* 
 
154 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 the sense of sight, and were to be incapable of recogniz 
 ing his own image in a glass 
 
 " O Miss Barbara, you are laughing at me !" ex 
 claimed Peter ; you always make fun of me when I pay 
 a compliment to your work. What I meant was, that that 
 is the most beautifully mounted apteryx that was ever 
 set up in New York. I saw one the other day that had 
 been mounted in Paris, and it wouldn t compare with this. 
 The eyes were as big as a ten-cent piece, while you have 
 made these almost as small as the head of a pin. That s 
 the way they ought to be. I heard Professor Laird say 
 so, and this apteryx looks as if he was just about to pick 
 up a worm." 
 
 " Well, Peter, worms are what they feed on. I tried 
 to make him appear to be viewing with a critical eye a 
 worm, as though he might be trying to decide whether or 
 not it was sufficiently inviting to warrant him in making 
 the necessary exertion for seizing it." 
 
 " And you ve hit it exactly. He s got his head turned 
 a little to one side, and his right eye is studying that 
 worm with great deliberation. What life you do put into 
 all your work, Miss Barbara !" 
 
 The idea flashed through Peter s mind, that with her 
 as his wife he could keep up the reputation of the place. 
 lie had thought before of the advantages of marrying 
 Barbara, but he was rather inclined to be dull, and her 
 skill and knowledge as a taxidermist had not previously 
 entered into his calculations. Now, however, he saw how 
 doubly desirable it was to get her for a wife. 
 
 "1 rn glad you admire the mounting," she said, 
 after giving the least possible touch to one of the legs 
 of the bird. "It won t be many years before, like 
 the dodo, the apteryx will become extinct. Then we 
 
BARBARA WORKS AND THINKS. 155 
 
 shall value these mounted specimens more than we do 
 
 now." 
 
 I almost forgot what 1 came for," resumed Peter, 
 with a laugh, having settled the matrimonial idea to his 
 satisfaction. " The gentleman is here for his silver fox, 
 which he said was promised for to-day. I didn t like to 
 tell him that it wasn t done, for he seems so anxious to 
 get it." 
 
 " Oh, has he come !" exclaimed Barbara ; "I ll see 
 
 him about it. 
 
 She was not vain, but she was a very woman, so she 
 gave a little glance into the old mirror, just so as to con 
 vince herself that there was nothing radically wrong about 
 her appearance no unbecoming disarrangement of her 
 hair or of the pretty dark blue ribbon that she wore at 
 her throat and then she passed into the front room. 
 
 She saw before her a tall, handsome, well-dressed man, 
 with a face that had an evident unfamiliarity with the 
 razor, for it was covered with the beard over the whole 
 surface upon which nature intended it to grow, and 
 who had, what she was quick to recognize, although 
 not a fashionable young woman, the unmistakable air 
 of a gentleman. That was about as much as she could 
 ascertain from the rapid glance only that she could 
 then give. 
 
 He was standing with his hat on, but on her entrance 
 he took it off at once, and made her a slight bow. This im 
 pressed her favorably, for very few of the men that came 
 there, whether they pretended to be gentlemen or not, 
 took off their hats in her presence, or smiled so graciously 
 as did this visitor. 
 
 " I have come for my silver fox," he said, still smiling, 
 and looking at Barbara with an expression of respectful 
 
156 MB. OLDMIXON. 
 
 admiration, that she was not slow to observe. " It was to 
 be done to-day, I believe." 
 
 " Yes," she answered ; " father promised to have it fin 
 ished to-day, but we have been unable to get it ready, ow 
 ing to the want of certain information that we thought 
 might enable us to do a better piece of work than if we 
 went at it ignorantly. 
 
 " Then you are Miss Ilenschel !" he said, a still more 
 pleased expression passing over his face. " I have often 
 heard of you as taking such a great artistic interest in your 
 work. In fact, it was my friend Professor Laird, of the 
 Smithsonian Institution, who told me to come to you with 
 my fox. He said you were the only person in the coun 
 try that could set it up as a work of art the art that in 
 terprets nature correctly." 
 
 " Professor Laird is a good friend of ours, and is 
 very kind. She was dying to know who this gentleman 
 was who talked of art, and whose prepossessions were so 
 greatly in her favor ; but she thought it would never do 
 to ask the question directly. Doubtless she would find 
 out before he left. " I am very willing, Miss Plenschel, 
 to give you any information that will enable you to mount 
 my fox in the most artistic manner. It is such a beauti 
 ful specimen of a rare animal, that I want the most made 
 of it that is possible. You see, I m an artist myself." 
 
 An artist ! She might have known it, she thought, 
 for who but an artist would talk as he had talked about 
 " artistic interest" and " art interpreting nature !" The 
 people generally that came there, except, of course, the 
 scientific ones, were such commonplace beings ! This 
 one was very different. 
 
 " I should like to know how you caught it ?" 
 
 " After two weeks of incessant labor and vigilance, in 
 
BARBARA WORKS AND THINKS. 157 
 
 which the fox s wits were pitted against mine, and in 
 which he always won till the last night, I succeeded in 
 catching him in a trap." 
 
 "I m glad you did not poison it. I knew you had 
 not shot it, for there were no holes in the skin, and 1 
 thought the silver fox was too cunning to be caught in 
 traps. 
 
 " I did not like to poison him, but 1 wanted his skin 
 very badly, and I think if I had not caught him at last, I 
 should have been mean enough to poison him. You 
 would not have liked that, would you ?" 
 
 "No," answered Barbara, frankly ; " I have a horror 
 of poison. I might excuse its use against savage animals 
 that we might wish to kill for our protection, but as a 
 means of destroying them for their skins, I wouldn t use 
 it." 
 
 "Hunters have not your nice discrimination," said the 
 gentleman. " They are making their living by getting 
 skins and a hard living it is, too and they are not likely 
 to stand on ceremony with the animal that has a skin they 
 want. However, I am happy to say that to some extent 
 I share your feelings, Miss Ilenschel ; and, at any rate, this 
 fox was not poisoned. 1 suppose I could have had him 
 a great deal sooner if I had put some strychnine in a piece 
 of dried beef and laid it on the snow near some one of 
 his haunts, but I could not quite make up my mind to 
 treat him so treacherously. Besides, he had a reputation 
 for knowing poisoned meat." 
 
 ( That was right ! said Barbara, emphatically. * i N ow, 
 please tell me exactly how you caught him, because I 
 propose to mount him in as nearly as possible the attitude 
 he took just before he was captured." 
 
 " You must know, Miss Ilenschel, that the cold at Fort 
 
158 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 Resolution where I was staying with a friend is, dur 
 ing the winter months, so intense that for weeks together 
 the mercury is frozen in the thermometer bulbs. I liked 
 it, however, and when well protected the sensation on 
 going out in the morning is delightful. The effect on 
 the circulation of a man he has to be a strong one, 
 though is not unlike that of a glass or two of cham 
 
 pagne. 
 
 " I wanted a silver fox, and I determined to get one. 
 The animal is becoming scarcer every year, and will soon 
 be extinct ; and that made me all the more anxious to 
 
 "Won t you walk into the next room?" interrupted 
 Barbara, perceiving that the story would take some little 
 time to tell. u It is our workshop, and, though I shall 
 not show you your fox I don t want you to see him till 
 he is finished you will be less likely to be interrupted 
 
 there." 
 
 16 1 regard this as a great compliment, Miss Ilenschel," 
 he continued, sitting down in a big Shaker rocking-chair 
 that Barbara pushed toward him, while she sat on a stool 
 in front of her work-bench. This is your studio, look 
 ing around him as he spoke. " Ah, here are many of 
 your works ! An apteryx ! I could swear that fellow 
 is alive ! He looks exactly like one that 1 saw in the 
 Jardin des Plantes picking up worms that had been put 
 into a mass of earth for his delectation. You know of 
 course you do, or you would never have put such an ex 
 pression into his right eye and his head that he is a very 
 dainty bird, and the worm must be a first-class one, or else 
 he will not eat it. This particular apteryx looks as though 
 he wa,s working every bit of brain he has in the effort to 
 determine whether or not he shall gobble up the worm 
 
BARBARA WORKS AND THINKS. 159 
 
 that is lying on the ground before him. There must be 
 a worm there," he continued, getting up and pretending 
 to look for one on the imitation moss on which the speci 
 men stood. " No, there is none. It has probably crawled 
 away while Master Apteryx was deliberating." 
 
 Barbara laughed. " 1 didn t think I could make much 
 of the apteryx," she said ; "it has no wings, or at least 
 only little stumps, and no tail, either." 
 
 " But you have done all with it that was possible. The 
 truest artist is the one that makes the most of his subject, 
 without passing the limits of truth ; and this you have 
 done." 
 
 " Thanks ; you are very kind to say all that. I d 
 rather please an artist than a king." 
 
 " Who told you I was an artist ?" 
 
 " You did just now." 
 
 u Did I ? I had forgotten. 1 ought to have told you 
 my name too, oughtn t I ?" Then, without waiting for 
 an answer, he handed her a visiting card. 
 
 "1 don t suppose you have ever heard of me," he 
 went on ; u but as we are likely to have sundry confer 
 ences about that silver fox that you are going to mount 
 so artistically forme, you should know what to call me." 
 
 Barbara took the little piece of pasteboard and read : 
 
 Mr. John Oldmixon, 
 
 The Vandyke, 
 
 61 West th Street. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 JACK AND HIS FOX. 
 
 BARBARA was overwhelmed with astonishment to find 
 that her visitor was no less a person than that nephew of 
 Mr. Oldmixon that had been so badly treated, and that 
 now, after years of neglect, had come, or was about to 
 come, through her decision, more than ever into his un 
 cle s favor. Surely, he must see the look of surprise on her 
 countenance, and wonder why the announcement of his 
 name had caused so great a degree of facial disturbance. 
 She dreaded to look, but yet, like a bird drawn irre 
 sistibly into the snake s jaws, she felt that she must look. 
 She raised her eyes. No ; he had not observed her. He 
 was studying the apteryx. 
 
 " Ah, young man !" she thought to herself, " little do 
 you know what I ve done for you. I m glad I did it. 
 1 like him. I m sure he s ever so much better than the 
 other. He isn t a bit like his uncle. No wonder he said 
 this one didn t look like an Oldmixon, and had none of 
 their bad traits." 
 
 "Now, Mr. Oldmixon," she said, " won t you tell me 
 something more about the silver fox ?" 
 
 "Oh, yes ! 1 was so busy looking around at your 
 work, that I forgot all about the fox. Well, I used to go 
 out every morning with my gun, looking for a silver fox, 
 and one very cold day, and when the snow was falling, I 
 saw the track of one in the new snow. Of course I fol- 
 
JACK AKD HIS FOX. 161 
 
 lowed it. It led me several miles to a thick pine forest, 
 and here 1 lost it. I went home, got my trap, and at once 
 started out to set it before night. I placed it, nicely 
 baited, just at the edge of the wood, and then started for 
 the fort, which I did not reach, however, till long after 
 dark. 
 
 " The next morning, early, I was of? to inspect my trap. 
 What was my surprise to find that the fox had been 
 there, and had taken the bait without disturbing the 
 underpinning of the fall, and had thus gotten off. 1 
 knew it was the fox, for I saw his tracks around the spot. 
 I made use of some words very derogatory to my good 
 sense in not fastening the bait more securely, and then I 
 set the trap again. 
 
 "When 1 got home and told my story at dinner, I 
 was greeted with a hearty laugh by the assembled wisdom 
 at the table. Somers, my friend, was particularly dis 
 posed to make fun of me. You ve got hold of " old 
 Machiavelli," he said, and you ve tried to catch him 
 by putting salt on his tail. That s what it amounts to. 
 Why, my dear fellow, every man, woman, and child at 
 Fort Eesolution has made an attempt to catch " old Mach 
 iavelli " ; but he roams the forest and the plain, as sound 
 in mind and body as he was three years ago, when we 
 first made his acquaintance. 
 
 " Has anybody ever seen him I I ventured to "ask, 
 with all due humility. 
 
 " At this every one burst into a loud laugh. 
 
 " Seen him ! shouted Somers seen old Machia 
 velli ! Do you take him for a fool, that he d let any 
 one see him ? 
 
 " I don t know what he is, I answered, somewhat 
 put out by the manner in which I was treated ; he 
 
162 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 may be the devil, for all I know. Probably he is, as you 
 seem to know so much about him. 
 
 " My dear Oldmixon, said Somers, still laughing, 
 " old Machiavelli" is the name given to a silver fox that 
 is the cunningest of all his kind. He first made this 
 region his dwelling-place about three years ago. Where 
 he came from no one knows, but he was full-grown in 
 mind and body when he arrived. No one has ever laid 
 eyes on him, but by his tracks he is known to be a very 
 large animal. I say no one has ever seen him, but that 
 may be an error. Kashacogno, an Indian buck, declares 
 he saw him one evening, just as the sun was going down, 
 and that he was as large as a wolf ; but as Kashacogno 
 had been drinking of fire-water pretty heavily that after 
 noon, his testimony is to be taken with some grains of al 
 lowance. 
 
 " Then we tried to capture him, dead or alive. Traps 
 of all kinds were made use of ; but if they were very deli 
 cately set, he would either not go near them, or would 
 manage to knock the arrangement down and to drag out 
 the bait at his leisure. If they were coarsely set, as yours 
 was last night, he would go in and deliberately take off 
 the bait, without bringing down the trap. Then strych 
 nine was tried, but never once would he eat a piece of 
 poisoned meat. He d turn it over and over, and once 
 carried a piece a mile away from the place where it was 
 laid ; but then he had dropped it, having apparently, in 
 some way or other, discovered that it was poisoned. 
 
 " Why didn t you watch the traps and shoot him ? 
 I inquired. 
 
 " We watched the traps day after day and night after 
 night, but never once did he make his appearance. He 
 has the keenest eyesight and hearing and the best brain 
 
JACK AND HIS FOX. 163 
 
 of any fox that ever lived in. these parts. Finally we 
 gave up trying to catch him, and named him old Mach- 
 iavelli," as a compliment to his astuteness. 
 
 " All this sank deeply into my heart, and I resolved 
 that I would have that fox, if I had to devote a whole 
 winter to the work of capturing him. I set a trap, and 
 finding that he gnawed away the string with which the 
 bait was fastened so delicately that he did not disturb 
 the underpinning, I fastened the meat with wire, so that 
 he would have to make more disturbance than if a piece 
 of deer-skin or a cord was used ; but then he would not 
 touch it. I tried this several times, and always with the 
 same result. Once I saw him. 1 had set" my trap, and 
 had retired to a clump of underbrush about a hundred 
 yards to leeward, and then secreting myself, resolved to 
 wait there, if I had to stay till dark. I waited, and not 
 only till dark, but far into the night. Fortunately, there 
 was a full moon, and this, with the bright stars and a 
 wonderful aurora, that lit up the sky and the snow, made 
 it almost as light as day. I sat on a log and watched 
 my trap ; but I was hungry, and it was after nine o clock, 
 and I had at least five miles to go to reach Fort Resolu 
 tion. I was just getting ready to go home when I 
 thought I saw something moving stealthily toward the 
 trap. The night was cold and the light wind was blow 
 ing from the trap toward me, so that I knew the animal, 
 whatever it was, could not detect me by the scent. I 
 rose to my feet, and strained my eyes to their utmost. 
 Yes, it was old Machiavelli undoubtedly the biggest 
 silver fox I had ever seen, and with head thrust forward 
 and ears erect, moving slowly toward the trap. 1 could 
 have killed him with my rifle, perhaps, but 1 had vowed 
 to catch him with a whole skin, so I would not fire, 
 
164 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 though strongly tempted to do so. So slowly that I 
 could barely see that he moved, he approached the trap, 
 to a distance, as nearly as 1 could judge, of three feet from 
 it, and there he stood, surveying it, and doubtless bring, 
 ing to bear upon it all the acumen with which a wise 
 Providence had endowed him." 
 
 Barbara had been deeply absorbed throughout the 
 whole of Jack s recital ; but as he told her how the fox 
 had stood and looked at the trap, her interest became still 
 greater. She left the bench on which she was sitting, 
 and going to a corner of the room, stood there before 
 something that was on a table, and at which she began to 
 busy her delicately formed fingers. 
 
 " Now, Mr. Oldmixon," she said, " don t look at me, 
 please. No," as Jack turned his face toward her, u you 
 must look the other way. Yes, that will do," as he 
 wheeled round his chair, so that the back was toward her. 
 " Now, tell me just exactly how the fox stood and 
 looked at that trap." 
 
 " Well," said Jack, obediently he rather liked being 
 ordered about by Barbara, and he must paint her if he 
 died for it " he stood as motionless as a statue, his head 
 projected forward 
 
 " Yes," interrupted Barbara, pulling the head of the 
 silver fox first one way and then the other, while she 
 slowly repeated his words, " his head projected forward. " 
 
 "In a straight line with the rest of his body," con 
 tinued Jack. 
 
 " Yes," as she worked deftly at the specimen. 
 
 " His ears thrown in the same direction so strongly 
 that they were almost on a line with the top of his head." 
 
 " Ears almost on a line with the top of his head wait 
 a moment, Mr. Oldmixon, please." 
 
JACK AND HIS FOX. 165 
 
 " O Miss Henschel !" exclaimed Jack, who up to this 
 time appeared to have been under the impression that she 
 was writing out his description for future use, " are you 
 mounting my fox now ?" 
 
 " You mustn t ask any questions, and you mustn t look. 
 If you do either, you will break the charm." 
 " I ll do just as you say." 
 
 " Now," said Barbara, after she had moulded the ears 
 into the position in which she wanted them, and had 
 stuffed them with a little cotton wool, " go on, please." 
 " His left foot raised from the ground in the attitude 
 that a pointer takes when he comes on a covey of part 
 ridges, and his brush as straight a continuation of the 
 line of his spine as though it had been laid out with rule 
 and compass." 
 
 Barbara worked on in silence for a minute or two, and 
 then, 
 
 " What was that you said about something being on a 
 line with his spine ?" 
 
 " I said his brush was " 
 
 " His brush ! Oh, yes, I know now. You are giv 
 ing it the huntsman s designation. We taxidermists call 
 it a tail." 
 
 Jack laughed at this, and then Barbara laughed, going 
 on with her work, all the time sponging the skin, so as 
 to moisten it, and then moulding it with her hands into the 
 shape she wanted. Finally she appeared to have fin 
 ished. She looked at her work from several points of 
 view, giving it a few touches here and there, and then 
 covering it with a cloth, washed her hands. " Now, 
 Mr. Oldmixon," she said, " was the fox, as he was look 
 ing at the trap, anything like this ?" 
 
 He came toward where she was standing, and she raised 
 
166 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 the cloth, revealing to him his fox in the attitude of at 
 tention and inquiry that he had described. lie was 
 delighted. 
 
 " I have never seen anything in the way of taxidermy 
 as good as this," he said, while his face expressed the 
 pleasure and astonishment he felt. u You have got the 
 position of the animal exactly as I saw it, and you have 
 done it with a degree of ease and celerity that I could 
 not have believed possible. You did not acquire your 
 art, Miss Ilenschel. It was born in you. No wonder 
 everybody praises your work, when you turn out such 
 specimens of it as this." 
 
 " I am glad you like it. I felt the impulse to do it 
 while you were describing the scene to me. One can 
 work so much better when the inspiration is present than 
 when one has to work because one must." 
 
 " Yes, 1 feel the truth of that constantly. I think, 
 when I complete a picture that I am under an engage 
 ment to paint for Mr. Yan der Linden, I shall do no 
 more work to order. You ought to model in clay, Miss 
 Ilenschel ; that is your vocation." 
 
 " Do you think so?" 
 
 " I know it. You are a genius. You will never get 
 credit for your artistic inspiration while you confine your 
 work, beautiful as it is, to mounting animals. You 
 should attempt the human form. You should become a 
 sculptor, and, my word for it, ere many years have 
 passed you will make the world ring with your praises." 
 
 She was silent, but his words fell on willing ears ears 
 that were much more ready to hear than they were when 
 her father had said almost the same things to her only a 
 few days previously. For, in the mean time, she had 
 thought much of what the old man had said, and the spirit 
 
JACK AND HIS FOX. 167 
 
 of ambition was beginning to be developed within her. 
 And now an artist one who must be distinguished, for 
 he was painting a picture for the rich Mr. Yan der Lin 
 den, who had the grand gallery that she had already vis 
 ited twice on days on which he threw it open to the pub 
 lic had praised her work. Her revery was broken in 
 upon by Jack. 
 
 " Will you allow me to take this home with me now, 
 Miss Henschel ? I have a few friends coining to visit 
 me to-night, and 1 should be delighted to show it to 
 them." 
 
 " But it is not quite finished. It is to have a board 
 yet to stand on a board covered with artificial snow. 
 
 u I ll get the board and the artificial snow. I ll also 
 have a trap made and placed right in front of him, and 
 then I shall have the scene before me in all its exactness, 
 whenever I look at it." 
 
 " But it is wet ; it will take several hours yet for it 
 to dry." 
 
 " I ll carry it with the utmost care. I ll get a cab 
 from a livery stable around the corner, and that will 
 insure my getting it home in safety." 
 
 " Well," said Barbara, laughing, " if you want it so 
 badly as all that, I suppose you can take it. 
 
 " Thanks ! I m ever so much obliged to you. Now, 
 I ll get a carriage, and then I ll rid you of the fox and 
 myself at the same time." 
 
 He went out, but was back before Barbara had had 
 time to tell much of the incident to her father, who had 
 in the mean time returned from a visit he had been mak 
 ing to the American Museum of Natural History. 
 
 Jack had met Mr. Henschel before, and he was glad 
 to meet him again, in order to discharge with more ease 
 
168 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 to himself an important duty that still remained to be 
 performed, and that was, paying for the mounting of his 
 specimen of the silver fox. It would have been un 
 pleasant to him, after his conversation with Barbara and 
 his references to " high art," and, above all, after the 
 impression that her beauty and sweetness had made on 
 him, to spoil all by tendering her the fifty dollars he had 
 agreed to give for the work. It would have caused a jar 
 to his feelings to have them mixed up with a pecuniary 
 transaction. But with Mr. Henschel no such delicacy 
 would be experienced, so he opened his pocketbook, and 
 placed five crisp ten-dollar notes in the old man s hand, 
 much to the latter s satisfaction, for he loved money as 
 fondly as do most people, whether they be rich or poor, 
 grand or humble. 
 
 While Mr. Henschel went into the office to make out 
 a bill and receipt, Jack thought it a good chance to give 
 expression to an idea that had occurred to him with more 
 or less distinctness soon after he first saw Barbara, and 
 that had now become perfected to his satisfaction. 
 
 "1 told you, Miss Henschel," he said, "that I had 
 accepted an order from Mr. Yan der Linden for a picture. 
 He has very intelligently left the subject to me, and I 
 think I have at last settled upon one that I may be able 
 to develop into something ; but I want your assistance." 
 
 " My assistance, Mr. Oldmixon !" exclaimed Barbara. 
 
 " Yes, yours ;" and his voice became lower and more 
 earnest. " I have been in doubt in regard to my ability 
 to carry out the conception, for 1 lack imagination ; but 
 since I have seen you I am reassured. Miss Henschel, 
 1 want you to sit for the principal figure in my compo 
 sition." 
 
 Barbara was frankness itself, and altogether free from 
 
JACK AND HIS FOX. 169 
 
 that species of vanity that causes some people to seem to 
 avoid or to refuse what they are especially anxious to 
 receive or grant. She answered at once, " I should be 
 very glad to do so, Mr. Oldmixon, but I am afraid I 
 have no time, and besides," she added, " I have no one 
 to go with me to your studio." 
 
 " Oh, I shall not ask you to put yourself to such an 
 inconvenience ! Although 1 am deficient in imagination, 
 I have a wonderful memory. All I ask is, that you will 
 allow me to come here for an hour every day for a week, 
 and look at you, and perhaps I may ask you to let rne 
 set up my easel here for a few days. 
 
 " I don t think there would be the least objection to 
 that, but I will ask father. "What is the subject that you 
 have determined upon, Mr. Oldmixon ?" 
 
 " I had determined to paint Queen Alfgive pleading 
 with her husband, King Knut, for the life of an Anglo- 
 Saxon earl who would not give his allegiance to the" 
 Danes ; but I have, since I came here, given that up. I 
 shall now, if you let me, paint ( The Taxidermists 
 you and your father at work in this room." 
 
 " But, Mr. Oldmixon, the other is a much more noble 
 subject, I should think. " 
 
 " I don t know anything about its nobility, and I don t 
 know anything, either, about Queen Alfgive or King 
 Knut or the Anglo-Saxon earl the subject came into 
 my mind at dinner a night or two ago but this place 
 1 know, and you and your father I know. You are flesh 
 and blood of our own day ; and if I do not mistake Mr. 
 Yan der Linden, he would infinitely prefer this subject to 
 the other. What does he care about Danish kings and 
 queens and Anglo-Saxon earls ? All those historical sub 
 jects run in one rut. 1 should look through some illu- 
 
170 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 minated manuscripts to get the costumes and architect 
 ure, and then I should place the king on his throne, and 
 the earl held by two soldiers, and the queen on her knees 
 supplicating her lord, and that would be all. But here I 
 should have your father, with his fine old face, and you, 
 with your your looking, you know, at a bird or some 
 thing, and the silver gray fox yes, working at the silver 
 gray fox, with other animals standing around, just as they 
 are here. Oh, I could make a glorious picture of all 
 that !" 
 
 He spoke with an enthusiasm that delighted Barbara, 
 and she looked at him with undisguised admiration. 
 Here was an artist one who felt all that he expressed, 
 and one, moreover, who had received an inspiration from 
 her and her associations. All this was very pleasant to 
 her, for nothing so rouses the sympathy of a woman as 
 to discover that she is a power and exerting an influence 
 over some one she likes or, still more, loves. Of course 
 Barbara did not love Jack Oldmixon. She was not a 
 woman, sensitive though she was, to lose her heart on a 
 first acquaintance. She could very readily have dis 
 pensed with his society from that time on to the end of 
 her days, without experiencing more than a transient re 
 gret that one who was agreeable to her had passed out 
 of her life. But he was interesting, and there was not 
 so much variety in her existence that she could view 
 with indifference the advent of a handsome, intelligent, 
 sympathizing, and, above all, art-loving young man like 
 Jack into the course of her life, without there being 
 more or less emotional disturbance of a pleasant charac 
 ter. This proposition of his, to make her and her father 
 the subject of his picture, was one, however, to which she 
 was not able to give her consent without the concurrence 
 
JACK AND HIS FOX. 171 
 
 of her father ; but she did not anticipate any difficulty 
 on that, score. lie generally allowed her to have her 
 own way, for her way was a good one, and no one knew 
 it better than Mr. Henschel. 
 
 Jack intuitively divined what was passing in her mind. 
 " Of course," he said, " I shall ask your father s con 
 sent. 1 only wanted to get yours first, for if it is not 
 agreeable to you, that s the end of it. I hope you ap 
 prove, Miss Henschel ?" 
 
 " If the subject is one that you think you could make 
 interesting, you are at perfect liberty to paint it, so far 
 as I am concerned. 1 don t think my father will object. 
 He is very proud of his art, and so am 1. 
 
 " Well, here he is, and I will ask. him now." 
 
 Jack then laid the subject before Mr. Henschel, arid 
 was happy to find that the old man entered with great 
 enthusiasm into the idea. That he should see his Bar 
 bara in a picture that would probably become famous 
 one that, at any rate, would hang in a famous collection, 
 and be seen by many people, was a thought that gave 
 him great satisfaction. He had a very keen appreciation 
 of his daughter s peculiar style of beauty, and when he 
 encountered a person that saw it as he saw it, his heart 
 expanded with that phase of self-complacency that most 
 of us feel when others approve of our thoughts or acts. 
 It did not take long to arrange the matter, so it was set 
 tled that Jack should begin the next day by bringing his 
 easel and all his other paraphernalia to the shop, and that 
 he should then study the interior, so as to form a clear 
 conception of what he wanted. " 1 shall not be sur 
 prised," he said, " if I shall have to spend the first two 
 or three days in making up my mind how to arrange you, 
 so as to get the best effect. Yes," looking around as he 
 
172 ME. OLDMIXO^". 
 
 spoke, " I shall have to change your position, Miss Ilen- 
 schel, so as to get you more in the light of that window. 
 However, we ll arrange all that to-morrow. Good-by," 
 he continued, holding out his hand, and smiling, while 
 in the other he held his silver fox. " I shall bring 
 this back to-morrow, and place it where it will be well 
 seen in my picture. I am greatly obliged to you, Miss 
 Henschel. I hope I have not stayed too long, and tired 
 you out with my loquacity ; but the time was passing so 
 pleasantly that I forgot myself." 
 
 "But, " said Barbara, laughing, " you have not yet 
 told me how you caught the silver fox." 
 
 " No ; and therefore there is another reason why I 
 should return. It s a very interesting story, Miss Hen 
 schel. Again, good-by !" 
 
 His carriage was at the door, and entering it, he was 
 driven away in the direction of his residence. But he 
 had not gone more than a block when, putting his head 
 out of the window, he called to the driver. 
 
 "Go to No. 73 Lake Street," he said ; " I like com 
 parisons," he continued to himself. " I ll take a look 
 at that other girl who is a taxidermist, and who Sliven 
 told me was so expert at the art as to have no rival in 
 this or any other country. I ll see if it s taxidermy that 
 makes angels out of women." In a few minutes the 
 carriage stopped in front of a respectable-looking house, 
 and Jack got out. On the door was a sign, " Thomas 
 Bangs & Co., Taxidermists." In a large bay-window 
 were several specimens of the taxidermist s art. A bell 
 on a spring rang as he opened the door, and then he 
 found himself in an apartment the walls of which 
 were lined with cases containing stuffed animals of vari 
 ous kinds. From an inner room, doubtless brought out 
 
JACK AND HIS FOX. 173 
 
 by the sound of the bell, came a young woman dressed 
 in tawdry finery, a heavy gold chain or of what looked 
 like gold around her neck, her hair frizzled all over her 
 head, and her face and hands showing evident marks 
 of unfamiliarity with soap and water. He looked spe 
 cially at her hands. He had observed that Barbara, 
 after completing the mounting of his silver fox, had 
 washed her hands before joining him again. This girl s 
 were dirty, and her nails were uncared for. He had 
 seen enough, but he thought a little further exploration 
 would be gratifying. 
 
 " Is Mr. Bangs in ?" he inquired. 
 
 " No, he ain t in ; but if you want to see him on busi 
 ness, I guess I can attend to it." 
 
 " I have a wolverine that 1 would like to have 
 mounted." 
 
 " A what?" 
 
 "A wolverine one that I captured in Canada last 
 winter, and that I would like to have mounted. I will 
 send the skin and the skull to you to-morrow." 
 
 The girl seemed confused. She was not a bad -look 
 ing girl, or rather she would not have been bad-looking 
 had she been clean and kempt. She had a bright pair of 
 eyes, a good mouth and teeth, a naturally clear com 
 plexion, and by the great majority of people men 
 or women would have been considered a far more 
 beautiful girl than was Barbara Henschel. Soap and 
 water and care, of which Barbara had no stint, would 
 have made this girl still more attractive, and not one in 
 a hundred would have passed her by for the red-haired 
 girl, with the glorious smile, whose beauty required to 
 be looked for and thought of in order to be recognized. 
 
 Then, undeniably, this girl was ignorant. She did 
 
174 MB. OLDMIXO^". 
 
 not know what a wolverine was, and her speech was like 
 that of a New York shop girl of the lowest grade. 
 
 " Pa s not in, as I said," she observed, after she had 
 apparently made up her mind in regard to the kind of 
 animal under consideration, " but we can do it, 1 guess. 
 "We .ve stuffed a good many wolves in our time. I m 
 Miss Bangs, and I do the finishing. Them wolves re 
 quires a good deal of life to be put into them. I done 
 one for Mr. Jacobs, in Fifth Avenue, and he said it was 
 just splendid." 
 
 " But the wolverine is not a wolf. It is altogether a 
 different kind of an animal. It s sometimes called the 
 glutton, and it is the pest of the hunters in the north, 
 for it steals the bait out of their traps." 
 
 " 1 guess there s a picture of it in The Quadrupeds 
 of North America. I ll mount it after that pattern, if 
 there is one. Stop a minute ! We ain t got that book, 
 but when we want to use it I go over to the Astor 
 Library, and I copy the pictures we want on a piece of 
 tracing paper. But there s a Webster s Unabridged 
 here, and I ll look it up if you ll wait a little." 
 
 She took down the large quarto volume, and began to 
 turn over the leaves. After she had done so, much to 
 Jack s amusement, for several minutes, she exclaimed : 
 
 " No, it ain t here. You never can find the thing 
 you want in them dictionaries." 
 
 " Let me look, please," said Jack. She handed him 
 the book. 
 
 " Here s wolf, " she said, " and oh, yes, here it is 
 in the next column, and I never seen it ! And a pict 
 ure of it, too! We might set yours up just like that." 
 
 Jack had seen and heard enough. 
 
 "I ll send you the skin and skull to-morrow, Miss 
 
JACK AND HIS FOX. 175 
 
 Bangs," he said, " and you can mount it in your own 
 way. Doubtless," lie added Jack was always polite 
 " you will succeed admirably." 
 
 " Oh, we never make no failures ! Do you want a 
 glass case for it ?" 
 
 " No, I have not yet made up my mind what to do 
 with it." 
 
 " Name, please." 
 
 " John Oldmixon," giving her his card as he spoke. 
 
 "We generally require a deposit, unless the skin s 
 valuable." 
 
 " Well, as this skin isn t worth much, I come under 
 the rule. How much shall I leave you ?" 
 
 " It will cost eight dollars to mount it. I guess five 
 dollars will do. You can send the money down with 
 the skin." 
 
 " No, I ll leave it now. It will save trouble to do 
 
 so." 
 
 He laid a five-dollar note on the counter, took the 
 receipt she handed him, and with a bow left the house. 
 
 " That girl s a tradeswoman a shop girl," he said, 
 as he got into the carriage. " The other one s a lady 
 and an artist. Dress the Bangs girl up, and she d stand 
 a good chance of getting the prize for beauty at a dime 
 museum or an agricultural fair, while the other requires 
 a gentleman and an artist to see her beauty. The one 
 scarcely varied the expression of her countenance the 
 whole time she was talking ; the other s face is a study ; 
 it changes with every thought she conceives and every 
 emotion she feels, and when she smiles well, 1 never 
 saw anything like her smile, and I haven t been blind 
 to female beauty, either. Two taxidermists ! They re 
 as different as night and day. The one practises it as a 
 
176 
 
 MR. OLDMIXOtf. 
 
 trade, the other studies it as an art. The one is a 
 coarse, ignorant, vulgar woman, with no soul above the 
 shop ; the other s an angel." 
 
 And with this conclusion, the final word of which 
 seemed to him to embody in its meaning all the virtues 
 and perfections that are ever bestowed on womankind, 
 Jack s thoughts became less coherent, though they were 
 still concerned with Barbara Henschel. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A PAIE OF DOCTORS. 
 
 ME. OLDMIXON was so overcome by the nefarionsness 
 of Mr. Partridge in putting currant jelly on canvas-back 
 duck, and by the excitement that had been developed, 
 followed as it was by a severe degree of reaction, that 
 he was not able to leave his room for several days. 
 Jack saw him every morning for half an hour or so,, but 
 his uncle was at no time in a fit condition to disclose his 
 intentions relative to his nephew s future life that he 
 had incorporated into his will. Finally, it was deemed 
 advisable to call in a physician. The gentleman came, 
 asked a few questions, felt his patient s pulse, looked at 
 his tongue, listened at his chest. 
 
 " Weak heart," he said under his breath. Then to 
 the patient : " My dear sir, it appears to me that you have 
 received a severe shock of some kind. Your nervous 
 system is all unstrung, and your heart feels it very evi 
 dently. Am I correct in my suspicions ? 
 
 " Two shocks, doctor," said Mr. Oldmixon, feebly 
 " two, one after the other, and both severe. The 
 nature of the first I prefer not to communicate to you ; 
 but the second is the result of a man a fellow that I 
 took to be a gentleman, and that I invited to my table 
 an aesthetic table at which all the appointments, from 
 the salt-cellars to the guests, were in keeping, and of 
 which the menu was the result of days of anxious study. 
 
178 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 The ducks canvas-backs were cooked according to the 
 principles of physical and gastronomic science. There 
 was one apiece, and the rich, fragrant, crimson -streaked 
 juice flowed gently from their pectoral muscles when the 
 knives silver-plated coursed through them like the 
 sharp-cut bow of a gondola through the bosom of the 
 Adriatic. " 
 
 Mr. Oldmixon stopped to take breath, and the doctor, 
 not quite sure, perhaps, that the metaphor was correct, 
 and that his patient might not be the subject of a little 
 mental confusion, looked as much surprised as his ex 
 pressionless face permitted. Certainly the prelude to 
 Mr. Oldmixon s account of his shock was altogether dif 
 ferent from any that he had ever heard before, and he 
 could not imagine to what it tended. He was not a 
 club-man, or one accustomed to good dinners, and hence 
 his patient s language was almost unintelligible. 
 
 "Well, doctor, would you believe it," resumed Mr. 
 Oldmixon after having mixed the yolk of an egg with 
 a glass of sherry and swallowed the compound " one 
 of my guests, a man who, as I have just said, I thought 
 was a gentleman one who, at any rate, if he did have 
 depraved tastes, would not seek to gratify them at my 
 table this man having cut off a slice of duck that would 
 have tempted the Pope in the middle of Lent, orders 
 some currant jelly to be brought to him he wouldn t 
 have got it in my house, and 1 think I shall resign from 
 the Lucullus for keeping such a vile mixture and hav 
 ing got it, deliberately spreads it over the luscious-look 
 ing morsel that lay on his plate waiting for proper ap 
 preciation, as if he was lathering his nasty face with soap 
 suds, and then proceeds to eat the horrid melange. I 
 restrained myself as well as I could being at my own 
 
A PAIR OF DOCTOES. 179 
 
 table but the effort was a task such as I have never 
 performed before, and was, as you see, sufficient to 
 precipitate me into this dreadful state. 
 
 If I had a thunderbolt in my eye, 
 I can tell who should down ; 
 It would be that wretch. " 
 
 " You don t mean to say," said Dr. Jimnay, who 
 probably had never eaten canvas-back duck in his life, 
 with or without jelly, " that the state in which 1 find 
 you has been induced by one of your friends putting 
 currant jelly on duck !" 
 
 " Canv r as-back, doctor ! Jelly is good enough on a 
 barnyard duck, for you want something to give it a 
 flavor ; but on a canvas-back ! O Lord, the very 
 thought makes me faint !" Then calling to Jack, he 
 whispered to him, " Pay that man his fee and send 
 him off. He s not a gentleman ; he doesn t know a can 
 vas-back from a scoot, whose flesh tastes like a Dutch 
 herring. Get me a gentleman, and get this man out of 
 the room ; the very sight of him makes me sick. He 
 has a bad countenance ; I wouldn t like to meet him at 
 night in a dark alley if he had a grudge against me and 
 he was armed with a box of pills. He d seize me and 
 make me swallow the lot. Get him out and send for 
 Milledge ; he knows what s what, and he s a gentleman, 
 besides." 
 
 Jack discharged the rather unpleasant duty put upon 
 him by his uncle with all the tact and discretion of 
 which he was capable, and the obnoxious son of Galen 
 took his departure, with his fee in his pocket. 
 
 " How much did you give him, Jack ?" asked Mr. 
 Oldmixon, in a feeble voice, as the door closed. 
 
180 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 " Five dollars." 
 
 " What !" exclaimed Mr. Oldmixon, rising up in his 
 bed and resting on one elbow, while he gazed at Jack 
 with an expression of the utmost surprise on his face, 
 " did you say five dollars ?" 
 
 " Yes ; I gave him what he asked, of course." 
 
 " Five dollars !" groaned Mr. Oldmixon, sinking back 
 on the mass of pillows behind him. " No wonder ! 
 What can you expect from a doctor that charges five 
 dollars for a first visit to a case like this ? A case of 
 nervous prostration, that requires the skill and tact of a 
 first-class man for its elucidation, to be attended to by a 
 fellow that values his opinion at five dollars ! Have 
 you sent for Milledge ? Get him at once, and let me 
 forget all about that little beast. 
 
 Learn from the beast the physic of the field. 
 
 Ha, ha ! that s a somewhat different meaning from what 
 Pope intended, but it suits the emergency. I ve had 
 my beast, and I ve learnt my physic." 
 
 " Yes, uncle, I ve sent for him," said Jack, with a 
 smile that he could not repress. " You won t get off 
 with five dollars from him. It will be twenty-five, at 
 
 least." 
 
 " All right, and I shall have the consolation of know 
 ing that my medical attendant is a gentleman that doesn t 
 put currant jelly on canvas-back duck." 
 
 The great man came, saw his patient, treated him with 
 the most sympathizing hauteur and autocratic kindness, 
 smiled incredulously when told that a guest at the Lucul- 
 lus had put currant jelly on a canvas-back, threw up his 
 hands in a deprecatory manner when told that the man 
 
A PAIR OF DOCTORS. 181 
 
 lived west of the Alleglianies, prescribed Vichy with 
 Lithia, ordered a month at Saratoga, although it was a 
 little late in the season, and then taking his twenty-five 
 dollars with a slightly wearied air, as though he had 
 pocketed a dozen or more like it that morning, and was 
 tired of the process, prepared to take his leave. 
 
 " You ll get over it, Mr. Oldmixon ; the provocation 
 was great, 1 admit ; but a man of your strength of will 
 generally masters these dtsagrtments." 
 
 " Yes, doctor, I suppose so ; but 1 never before felt 
 so strong a desire to kill a man as 1 did to kill that 
 wretch. If it had not been for the law and the per- 
 sonal inconvenience to myself of a trial, as well as the 
 disgrace to my nephew to have his uncle hanged, I 
 should have poisoned his wine on the spot. 1 had no 
 conscientious scruples on the subject none whatever. 
 Besides, I m born with it in me. Lewes says, and he isn t 
 the only one that s said the same thing, that murder, 
 like talent, seems occasionally to run in families. It runs 
 in ours, though we haven t always got our deserts for 
 yielding to the inclination." 
 
 The doctor laughed, said he didn t think it necessary 
 to call again, and then, after a few words of gossip, took 
 his leave. 
 
 " JSTow, he s something like a physician !" exclaimed 
 Mr. Oldmixon. " What confidence in himself ! What 
 aplomb ! Did you ever see anything grander than the 
 poise of his head ! To compare Milledge and Jimnay 
 is worse than comparing Hyperion to a Satyr. It s more 
 like pitting Apollo against a sanctified but dilapidated 
 ghoul. I suppose I ll either die now or get well. I have 
 had my due allowance of doctors. 
 
182 ME. OLDMIXOT*. 
 
 See one physician, like a sculler plies, 
 The patient lingers and by inches dies, 
 But two physicians, like a pair of oars, 
 Waft him more swiftly to the Stygian shores. 
 
 " How much did you give him, Jack ?" 
 " Twenty-five dollars." 
 
 "And cheap at the money. 1 feel better already. 
 Won t you be kind enough to ring that bell for my man ; 
 I think I ll get up, and to-morrow I ll go to Saratoga. 
 I m sorry I didn t kill that fellow Partridge," he added, 
 after a few minutes silence. " So many of my ancestors 
 were hanged, or otherwise executed, that 1 ought to have 
 done it, if only for the sake of the family. There hasn t 
 been an Oldmixon killed now for nearly a hundred years, 
 and you and that rascal Hogarth and myself are the only 
 ones" left to maintain the honor of the race. 1 don t 
 suppose you ll be hanged. I ve missed the best chance 
 I ever had in my life, and shall probably never get 
 another, so that the only one left to preserve the family 
 from sinking into oblivion is Hogarth. Well, I m in 
 clined to think he ll do his duty in this respect. 1 
 
 Mr. Oldmixon went to Saratoga, and was absent dur- 
 ino- the whole period that Jack was painting his picture 
 of the taxidermists in Mr. Henschel s back room, 
 could not make up his mind to stay longer than ten 
 days, notwithstanding Dr. Milledge had so strenuously 
 insisted upon a month. At that season of the year 
 Saratoga was not a desirable residence for anybody, much 
 less for a man like Mr. Oldmixon, who consulted 
 comfort in everything he did, and who could find few 
 of the, to him, necessaries of life in the plain boarding- 
 house at which he put up at the Springs. But he walked 
 out to the Geyser every morning, and drank a hall a 
 
A PAIR OF DOCTORS. 183 
 
 dozen tumblers of the water of that remarkable spring 
 during each day. And then, having imbibed sixty glasses 
 of the health-giving liquid, he came to the conclusion 
 that the latent gout, to which Dr. Milledge had ascribed 
 his symptoms, was thoroughly washed out of his blood, 
 and that it would be a very proper thing for him to re 
 turn to New York, and begin over again. Besides, he 
 must tell Jack about the will and the conditions he had 
 imposed. 
 
 In the mean time Jack had had his easel carried to 
 Mr. Henschel s house and set up in the workshop, and 
 here he spent an hour every day at work on the picture, 
 which he had determined should, more than any other, be 
 representative of his peculiar style. He had no difficulty 
 in arranging the living and inert materiel to the best ad 
 vantage, and in this was glad enough to avail himself of 
 Barbara s artistic instinct and keen sense of color and 
 form. These hours had been the pleasantest of his life, 
 and each one had passed with the girl more firmly placed 
 in his heart than before, so that when they had come to 
 an end, he was over head and ears in love, and ready to 
 sacrifice all his prospects in life for the sake of Barbara 
 Henschel. 
 
 Before meeting with her, Jack had always declared, 
 when questioned on the subject, that he should never 
 marry, and had insisted, with great vehemence, that 
 matrimony and art in its highest regions were absolutely 
 incompatible. " It s a difficult thing for a man to be 
 come a great artist," he said one night to half a dozen 
 congenial companions, sitting with him on the piazza at 
 the Long Beach Hotel, " with everything in his favor, 
 and when he can entirely abstract himself, as occasion re 
 quires, from all the little wearying affairs of life. But 
 
184 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 for a married man 1 look upon the tiling as almost an 
 impossibility. The great artists that have been married 
 are few, and they were such geniuses that no antago 
 nistic circumstances could have kept them from rising. 
 What I say, however, doesn t apply to geniuses. They 
 are quite an exceptional class ; but no one, I think, will 
 contend that a genius makes a good husband. He ll 
 stick to his art, and let his wife and children go. An 
 ordinary fellow, however, like any of us, with a moder 
 ate talent for art and sufficient love for it to cause him to 
 devote himself to it assiduously enough to make himself 
 a good reputation, when he marries is going to give 
 it up, and tag on to the petticoats. He can t help him 
 self. Ilis heart isn t big enough for both, and the 
 woman wins. 
 
 " That s all humbug !" said Danforth, a promising 
 young painter, who was known to be on the eve of mar 
 riage with a very beautiful girl. Look at Rubens, and 
 Murillo, and Titian, and Tintoretto, and" 
 
 " And look at Michael Angelo, Leonardo, Eaphael, 
 and a dozen others 1 might mention," interrupted Jack. 
 " Besides, the men you mention were geniuses, and they 
 all made bad husbands." 
 
 " How do you know they did ?" demanded Danforth. 
 " That s an assumption on your part for which there s 
 no warrant." 
 
 " Read their lives, my boy, and you ll find out. Now, 
 to come nearer home, there s Pickett. Two years ago 
 no one in this country bid fairer to reach the top of the 
 ladder of fame than Pickett. He had done some of the 
 best work that s been done in twenty years anywhere. 
 Well, he got married, and what is he now ? He sent a 
 picture to the Salon la&t year, and they wouldn t hang it ; 
 
A PAIR OF DOCTORS. 185 
 
 and he sent one to the Academy this year, and they de 
 clined to put it on the walls. 1 met him driving in the 
 Park a few days ago with his wife, two babies, and a 
 nurse, actually looking idiotically happy. It s all very 
 well for a fellow that goes in for that sort of thing, but 
 you can t serve God and Mammon, and I don t propose 
 to try." 
 
 They all laughed at this tirade, and Jack felt that de 
 gree of elation that every man feels when he has made a 
 point and subdued his polemical adversaries. 
 
 But after once seeing Barbara Henschel, his opinions 
 began to waver, and before he had finished his sittings 
 in the workshop they had undergone a complete change, 
 and he would have been willing to renounce art forever, 
 had the sacrifice been necessary to gain her love. He 
 had discovered not only that she was beautiful he had 
 found that out on the first day he had met her but he 
 saw every hour that he passed in her presence some 
 new facial expression or mental characteristic that he 
 had not noticed before, and that enraptured him to a 
 degree that when he got home made him feel ashamed 
 of himself for his susceptibility. Finally the picture 
 was done, so far as it could be completed there, though 
 there were still many days of delicate touchings and re 
 touchings necessary before it would be fit to go out of 
 his hands, and there would no longer be any excuse for 
 making the daily visits that had been a source of pleas 
 ure beyond any that he had yet experienced. 
 
 Nevertheless, when he came nearly to the end of the 
 last sitting that Barbara was giving him, and looked 
 back over the past week, he could not conscientiously 
 say that he had any cause for self -congratulation. She 
 had always treated him with civility indeed, even with 
 
186 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 friendliness, but she had never shown the least sign of 
 any particular feeling for him, although she must have 
 noticed from his looks, his manner, his speech, that she 
 was fast becoming of more than passing interest to him. 
 Women have it in their power, as Jack very well knew, 
 though he had never had an affair of the heart before, 
 to let a man see whether they care for him or not, and 
 that without compromising themselves in the slightest 
 degree. There are a thousand w r ays of doing this. It 
 may be a look, an action, a phase of manner, a word, 
 even an accent, a little thing of no consequence in itself, 
 one that may, without reproach, be disavowed should 
 occasion require, and that is of pregnant meaning when 
 spoken by a woman to the man she loves. Jack had 
 looked for some such token from Barbara, but he had 
 looked in vain. There had been nothing absolutely 
 nothing that he could bring back as a point cTappui 
 for the love that had taken him captive. 
 
 This was his last day, and what excuse could he make 
 for coming again ? That was the question that occupied 
 his mind just then. Barbara was sitting at her work 
 bench in the attitude in which he had placed her in his 
 picture, and he was trying to improve the conception of 
 her face that he had transferred to the canvas. He 
 soon found, however, that his first idea the one that 
 had come from the inspiration of the moment was 
 more truthful than any he could elaborate by subse 
 quent study, and that there was really nothing more 
 to do. 
 
 " I won t keep you any longer, Miss Ilenschel," he 
 said ; " by this, as it now is, I ll stand or fall. You have 
 been very good to me and very patient, and I thank you 
 from the bottom of my heart. I ll send for these things 
 
A PAIR OF DOCTORS. 187 
 
 to-morrow morning, and I ll put on the finishing touches 
 at my leisure. " 
 
 Barbara had not yet seen the picture. Jack had begged 
 her not to look at it till he gave her leave, and she had: 
 scrupulously respected his wish. Every day when he 
 went away he had covered the canvas with a thick linen 
 cloth, and she had never once raised even a corner, 
 though she had felt no small degree of curiosity to see 
 what had been made of her. 
 
 But now she thought the time had come for her to 
 take a look, even if work still remained to be done on it ; 
 so after telling Jack that it had been no trouble to her to 
 sit for him, and that she was glad to have been the means 
 of helping him to a subject, she ventured to ask if she 
 might see the picture before it was taken away. 
 
 " I don t see why you shouldn t do anything you like 
 with it," responded Jack, magnanimously. "If it 
 hadn t been for you there would have been no picture, 
 and all there is in it that s worth looking at is your 
 image and and your father s, of course. He has a 
 grand old face, and I ve given special attention to bring 
 ing out all its strong points. Certainly you shall see it, 
 Miss Henschel. Come round here. Wait a moment 
 till I get it in a little better light. That s it ; now stand 
 right here." 
 
 Barbara moved round to the front, after Jack had ad 
 justed the easel according to his notion, and looked at 
 the picture. It represented the workshop with entire 
 fidelity ; somewhat in the background sat Mr. Henschel, 
 at work at a magnificent specimen of the mountain-sheep, 
 which looked as though it were standing on one of its 
 native Rocky Mountain crags. All the details of the 
 old man s face and figure had been elaborated with the 
 
188 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 utmost minuteness, and Barbara gazed at the portrait 
 without seeing more than the dim outline of her own, 
 so thoroughly impressed was she with the life-like repre 
 sentation that the painter had made of her father. Then 
 she slowly turned her eyes to what Jack had intended 
 should be the chief feature of his picture the likeness 
 of herself. He had painted her sitting at the work -bench 
 and moulding into form the ears of the silver fox which 
 stood before her. The attitude was full of gr*ace ; her 
 fingers seemed to play about the delicate ears of the 
 animal, touching them as airily, as discriminatingly, and 
 yet as firmly as though the task were one of loving care, 
 requiring all the skill and attention of the worker. The 
 head was thrown slightly back, and as the work-bench 
 was rather low, the eyes were a little cast down ; but 
 their expression was one of infinite softness, almost ten 
 derness, and there was just the least gleam of a smile 
 around the corners of the mouth, that appeared to show 
 that she was well pleased with what she had accom 
 plished, and that gave an aspect of surpassing beauty to 
 the face. 
 
 Barbara looked at it in silence ; she had never thought 
 herself beautiful ; but this girl in the picture was lovely 
 beyond any woman she had ever seen before. She could 
 not believe it resembled her, and hence she was disposed 
 at first to think that the artist had flattered her, or else 
 that he had altogether failed to catch the likeness. 
 
 But as she contemplated the painting more attentively, 
 and studied the portrait with greater thoroughness, she 
 began to recognize the fact that it was like her, that the 
 artist had caught an expression that she had at times seen 
 on her face, and that he had succeeded in transferring it to 
 the canvas with a truthfulness and a skill that struck her 
 
A PAIE OF DOCTOES. 189 
 
 as being marvellous, while, at the same time, it gave her 
 infinite pleasure. Surprise and delight were on her face 
 as she turned to Jack, who had all the time been waiting 
 and wishing that by some supernatural power, as there 
 was no other way of doing it, he could, at once, paint 
 her as she then looked. 
 
 " O Mr. Oldmixon !" she exclaimed, " is it possible 
 I look like that ?" 
 
 "Not always, Miss Henschel," replied Jack, laugh^ 
 ing ; " but sometimes you do. "I tried to get you at 
 your best, and I thought till just now that 1 had suc 
 ceeded ; but now I know that your face is capable of 
 lovelier expressions than the one I captured. I beg 
 your pardon," he continued, seeing that Barbara was 
 blushing deeply ; " 1 did not intend to descend to the 
 triviality of paying you a compliment on your personal 
 appearance ; I would have no right to take such a liberty. 
 1 was speaking altogether from an artistic standpoint, 
 and was thinking of you, not as Miss Barbara Henschel, 
 who has been kind enough to do me the greatest favor I 
 have ever received, but as the model from whom I have 
 derived whatever inspiration guided my brain and hand." 
 
 " And father," said Barbara, shifting the subject of 
 conversation as soon as she could ; " you have made 
 an admirable likeness of him. There is not a feature of 
 his face that is not truthfully brought out, and the ex 
 pression is exactly that that is always present when he is 
 greatly interested. Oh, yes, you have made an admir 
 able likeness of him ! He will be delighted, I know. I 
 had no idea that you would succeed so well with the 
 animals," she continued, after she had minutely exam 
 ined the representations of the silver fox, the mountain 
 sheep, and two or three others of less importance that Jack 
 
190 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 had introduced. " I think yon have had the exact idea 
 in regard to them that yon ought to have had. I was 
 afraid that yon would make them too life-like, and that, 
 therefore, it might be thought that yon were painting 
 them from nature ; but every person can see that these 
 are mounted specimens." 
 
 " You have hit upon the one point, after that of get 
 ting your likeness, that gave me the most trouble, and 
 my difficulty came from the fact that your mounting is 
 so perfect, that it is almost the exact counterpart of 
 nature. Of course I had to represent the work of the 
 taxidermists, and not live animals, and I found it a tough 
 piece of work to steer so as to avoid the Scylla of natur 
 alism, and yet not run into the Charybdis of artificiality. 
 Your opinion that I have succeeded gives me every 
 assurance I could desire. Here, at least, Miss Ilenschel, 
 I may compliment you, and say, that there is no one I 
 know whose judgment in such a matter is as good as 
 yours. 
 
 So they talked, and finally Mr. Ilenschel came in ; 
 and Jack, declaring that at last there was an opportunity 
 for him to get an unbiassed judgment of his portrait of 
 Barbara, called upon the old man for his opinion. 
 
 Mr. Ilenschel was no mean judge of such matters. 
 He had seen nearly all the famous pictures of Europe, 
 and had formed ideas of composition and coloring that 
 were based upon a knowledge of the manner in which 
 they had been treated by the greatest masters that the 
 world had known. One glance at Jack s picture was 
 sufficient to engage his attention, and to keep it engaged 
 till he had carefully studied it in all its details. 
 
 " It s a fine picture, Mr. Oldmixon," he said, at last ; 
 i it s enough to make the reputation of any painter. It 
 
A PAIR OF DOCTORS. 191 
 
 puts me in mind of one of those Flemish interiors, of 
 which Teniers has given us so many striking examples. 
 And you ve got the very look on Barbara s face that I 
 would rather see there than any other. It s the best 
 you ve got, my dear," turning to address his daughter, 
 and finding, to his surprise, that she had disappeared. 
 " Ah well ! it s perhaps better that she should not hear 
 too many praiseful speeches," he continued. " You ve 
 never painted as beautiful a face as that before, have you, 
 Mr. Oldmixon ? J 
 
 " Never !" exclaimed Jack, enthusiastically. " I can 
 say to you, Mr. Henschel, what I could not say to her 
 it s the loveliest face I ever saw." 
 
 66 Ay, and not only her face ! Look at the sheen on 
 that hair. Isn t it what you might think molten gold 
 would look like with the sunlight gleaming on it ? And 
 the poise of the head ! How gracefully she has thrown 
 it back, and turned it a little to one side, while she looks 
 critically at the work she is doing, and the hands and the 
 arms from which the loose sleeves have fallen back, just 
 far enough to show the delicate wrists passing almost 
 imperceptibly into the fulness that marks where the 
 muscles are that move her slender fingers. But," he 
 continued, with a smile, " I am talking like an old man, 
 and I m afraid a little too much like an anatomist. I 
 don t think I ever talked that way about my girl before, 
 and, in fact, I forgot in my admiration of the picture 
 that it was my daughter 1 was speaking of. Set it down 
 to the picture, not to her ; but it s wonderfully like her, 
 Mr. Oldmixon." 
 
 Jack was now satisfied ; so throwing the cover over the 
 picture, he began gathering his property together into 
 one place. 
 
192 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 " I shall send for all this to-morrow, Mr. Henschel," 
 he said, " and then I shall cease to trouble you." 
 
 " Oh, it s been no trouble ! You ve done us a great 
 honor in making us the subject of your picture, and if 
 there s anything I can do for you, I hope you ll let me 
 know. Some time or other you might want a rare animal 
 for a model, and lam in the way of getting such things." 
 
 " Thanks ; I shall certainly avail myself of your kind 
 ness should occasion require, and in the mean time I 
 have a favor to ask of you." 
 
 " You ve only to mention it." 
 
 " Let me come here occasionally to talk to you and 
 your daughter while you are at your work. You both 
 know so much more than I do of many things that I 
 want to know, that I trust you will not refuse me the 
 opportunity of learning them." 
 
 " Ay, ay, we ll both be glad to see you. But we ll 
 not be here long now ; I have nearly completed all the 
 arrangements for selling the business and moving to a 
 little farm I ve just bought near New Rochelle and 
 Mamaroneck. " 
 
 " You are going away ?" 
 
 " Yes ; but not far. I gave Barbara a month to think 
 of it, but she only took a week, and then she told me 
 she was ready to go." 
 
 " And you will no longer be taxidermists ?" 
 
 " Not for more than a week or so longer; but my 
 daughter is going to become a sculptor. Mr. Maurice 
 is to be her instructor. Do you know him ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ; every one knows Maurice ; he is the most 
 competent man for the work of an instructor in sculpture 
 that there is in the city." 
 
 " Then you can, perhaps, come out to see us some 
 
A PAIR OF DOCTORS. 193 
 
 day, and look around our little place, or take a sail on 
 the Sound." 
 
 " I should be delighted." 
 
 "Yes," said Barbara, entering the room at the 
 moment, " you will have to come, if it s only to tell us 
 how you caught the silver fox." 
 9 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A TENDER-HEARTED HUSBAND. 
 
 MR. HOGARTH OLDMIXON, whom we left reflecting upon 
 a few plain-spoken words from his wife, was not one of 
 those exceptional persons that believe in the efficacy of 
 soft answers in turning away wrath. It was his system 
 not so much to divert angry feelings as to subdue them, 
 and he effected his purpose, not only by the use of signifi 
 cant and energetically expressed language, but by the 
 employment of such additional measures in the way of 
 physical force as his experience had taught him were 
 likely to promote peace by silencing his adversaries. 
 
 After Mrs. Hogarth Oldmixon had delivered herself 
 of the sharp little speech recorded in a previous chapter, 
 her husband sat for a moment or two without making any 
 response, either by word or deed. Then he very deliber 
 ately got up, locked the door, and put the key into his 
 pocket. Then he came to where his wife was sitting 
 rocking herself with great energy backward and forward 
 in a chair, that, every time it reached its full extent of 
 inclination in either direction, looked as though it would 
 topple over and land its occupant on the floor. H e stood 
 before her with his legs wide apart and his hands ram 
 med down into the depths of his trousers pockets, and 
 having regarded her with a look of which low cunning 
 and superciliousness were strong features, as long as he 
 thought desirable under the circumstances, he reached out 
 
A TENDER-HEARTED HUSBAND. 195 
 
 both hands as though to seize her by the neck and shoul 
 ders as the initial step of his active proceedings. Sud 
 denly, however, as if influenced by some other thought, 
 he dropped his arms, and turning away, strode to one of 
 the windows and looked out on the deserted street, down 
 which torrents of water were still rushing. 
 
 While .Mr. Hogarth was looking at her with his mixed 
 expressions of malicious astuteness and contempt, Mrs. 
 Hogarth continued to rock herself violently, as though the 
 chief object of her life was to get through a certain 
 amount of the oscillatory exercise in a certain time. She 
 never raised her eyes to her husband s face, though it can 
 not be said that she quailed before him. If she had seen 
 the look of devilish malice on his countenance she might 
 have felt some qualms of fear, and have kept a silent 
 tongue in her head during the rest of the interview. But 
 she was one of those women that never know when they 
 are well off, and who, moreover, know so little of the male 
 part of the human race that they are sure to misinterpret 
 any action not of the most positively demonstrative char 
 acter. They are like the woman who told me upon one 
 occasion that she never knew her husband was in earnest 
 about anything till he had kicked her two or three times, 
 to prove his sincerity. 
 
 As Mr. Hogarth went toward the window, Mrs. Ho 
 garth raised her eyes, and gave a withering glance at his 
 retreating form. Then the word " coward" came hiss- 
 ingly from her lips ; and as this met with no response she 
 repeated it, with the addition of the word " bully !" 
 Still meeting with no reciprocity, she went still farther. 
 " Coward, bully, and liar !" she said, and then apparently 
 reaching the conclusion that she had, for that occasion at 
 least, exhausted her powers of invective, she threw herself 
 
196 ME. 
 
 back in her chair, and resumed the rocking process, which 
 had been temporarily interrupted. 
 
 But she was not to be left to pursue this innocent, 
 if ungraceful exercise without interruption. "Whether 
 or not the word " liar " is more aggravating when ap 
 plied to a person than " coward" or " bully," or both 
 combined, may never be definitely determined for man 
 kind at large ; but it certainly appeared to be the case, 
 either that Mr. Hogarth regarded it as more vituperative 
 in itself, or, like the last straw that broke the earners back, 
 it was cumulative, and hence added just the necessary 
 force required to convert the gentleman to whom it was 
 addressed from a comparatively peaceable man into one 
 in whom rage had taken the place of reason. At the word 
 " coward" his fingers had moved spasmodically; at 
 " bully " his face had twitched and his eyes had glared ; 
 but there did not appear to be any indication that Mr. 
 Hogarth s emotional disturbance would carry him beyond 
 the point of manifesting these, in themselves harmless 
 muscular motions. But at the word "liar" he started, 
 turned, and with one bound reached the chair in which 
 his wife was rocking herself. To seize her around the 
 waist and to carry her to the bed in the next room were 
 acts that were done in an instant. She had at first been 
 too much astonished to cry out ; but now she began to 
 make attempts to shout, which, however, were promptly 
 rendered abortive by her husband cramming his handker 
 chief into her mouth. He threw her on the bed w r ith all 
 the strength of which he was master, and then taking the 
 pillow, was proceeding to press it on her face, but her 
 struggles were of so violent a character that he could not 
 succeed all at once in accomplishing his object. She 
 fought with her hands ; she fought with her feet ; and she 
 
A TENDEK-HEARTED HUSBAND. 197 
 
 twisted her body in all directions with such a degree of 
 agility that he was for a time baffled. She saw that 
 he meant to kill her. His eyes were bloodshot and star 
 ing, his face was of a livid hue, his lips were retracted 
 so as to show his teeth, and he uttered threats and denun 
 ciations incoherently, it is true, but, nevertheless, with 
 sufficient distinctness for her to understand that he in 
 tended to take her life. He was a man of great physical 
 strength, and the contest, with everything in her favor, 
 would have been only a question of time. As it was, 
 with her on the bed and he standing over her and bring 
 ing the weight of his body to act in conjunction with his 
 strong arms, her chance was slim. Gradually he obtained 
 more fixedness for the pillow, and at last he got it over 
 her face, and held it there, while her arms and legs twitch 
 ed convulsively and her breast heaved in the ineffectual 
 effort to get a breath of air. Then all was still all 
 except his own hurried breathing and the pulsation of 
 his heart, the sound of which organ struck with a dull, 
 muffled thump upon his ears, and jarred his body as a 
 laboriously-working machine jars the house in which it 
 is lodged. 
 
 He stood by the side of the bed for a few moments, as 
 if endeavoring to collect his thoughts. Then he took 
 away the pillow from the face of his wife, and minutely 
 inspected her countenance. There was no distortion of 
 the features, and after he had adjusted the limbs and 
 smoothed her clothing and the bed, she looked for all the 
 world as though she were asleep. He felt her pulse, then 
 placed his hand over her heart, then watched closely for 
 the slightest motion of her chest. Yes, she might look 
 as though she were asleep, but for all that she was dead, 
 and he had killed her. 
 
198 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 ]S"ow, strange as it may seem, lie had not at first intend 
 ed to kill her. He had been irritated beyond measure 
 by her taunts and abuse, and he had purposed giving her 
 a taste of his power by carrying her to the bed, and then, 
 tying her hand and foot, to leave her there till it should 
 suit his pleasure to release her. But her attempts to 
 scream and her sturdy resistance had still further de 
 veloped the diabolical spirit that he possessed, and then he 
 had been carried far beyond his original design. As she 
 resisted, he attacked ; as she endeavored to escape, he made 
 more determined efforts to . subdue her, until finally the 
 distinct purpose of ridding himself of what he considered 
 was a bad bargain came suddenly into his mind. 
 
 It was not a spontaneous thought, neither was it one de 
 veloped by the opposition he had met from her struggle 
 for life ; but it was evolved out of the idea that she was in 
 some way or other the cause of his uncle s displeasure with 
 him. At first this was only the dimmest kind of an im 
 pression, but in a few seconds the brain works with won 
 derful celerity at such times it had become an over 
 whelming conception of such intense distinctness that he 
 imagined that he could see and hear his uncle denounc 
 ing him for having married Camilla "White. Then his 
 resolution was taken. He would kill her now that he 
 had the chance, and rid himself forever of the one that 
 stood between him and wealth. 
 
 He was not the man to feel remorse for any act that 
 he might commit, especially when it was one like this, that 
 apparently was going to work to his advantage ; but he 
 none the less felt the danger that he had incurred and the 
 necessity that existed for making such an arrangement of 
 matters as would divert all shadow of suspicion from 
 himself. He had already put the corpse and its surround- 
 
A TENDER-HEARTED HUSBAND. 199 
 
 ing s into a state of order ; to wash his face and hands, 
 to brash his hair, and to set his clothing to rights were 
 small matters, but they had a great effect in causing him 
 to look calm and comfortable. Indeed, as he glanced at 
 himself in the glass, he could not discover a trace of the 
 severe contest through which he had just passed ; and cer 
 tainly no one examining his countenance, with all the 
 trained skill of a physiognomical expert, would have sus 
 pected that he had, not half an hour before, killed his 
 wife. 
 
 Hogarth Oldmixon was a man of ample resources, es 
 pecially when they were to be exercised for his own pro 
 tection. In the first place, he had that command of himself 
 so long as his reason was not obscured or overwhelmed 
 by furious rage, as it had been just now, that enabled 
 him to preserve a calm exterior under all kinds of trying 
 circumstances ; and in the next, he was ready, with well- 
 constructed stories that were amply sufficient to explain 
 any incongruous acts that he might have committed, and 
 that were so plausible, coherent, and systematic in all their 
 details, that no one hearing them was likely to suspect 
 that he had done anything that he ought not to have done. 
 His great danger was his ungovernable temper ; for 
 when that was excited he was apt to talk with an utter dis 
 regard to his own welfare and with a tendency to re 
 veal circumstances that in his rational state he would have 
 died rather than confess. 
 
 He knew the advantage in circumstances such as those 
 that now surrounded him of attention to what were appar 
 ently small things ; so, after taking another look at the 
 corpse, to see that everything connected with it was exact 
 ly as he intended it to be, he drew on his gloves, brushed 
 his hat, put a clean white linen handkerchief into the 
 
200 MR. OLDMIXOItf. 
 
 breast-pocket of his coat, and then taking his cane, un- 
 locked the door, leaving the key on the inside, and then 
 proceeded down-stairs to the office. He went to the door, 
 and looking out, pretended to be inspecting the state of 
 the weather. 
 
 " I think it is going to clear, he said to the clerk be 
 hind the counter. " Mrs. Oldmixon is very anxious to 
 visit the Naval School, and to see something of the city. 
 Will you be kind enough to order a carriage for five 
 o clock ? It is now just four," looking at his watch as he 
 spoke the last words. 
 
 " Will you have a close or an open carriage ?" said the 
 clerk. 
 
 u Which do you think would be best ? Suppose you 
 send up and ask Mrs. Oldmixon which she would prefer." 
 
 "It is certainly going to clear," said the clerk ; u the 
 blue sky is showing itself now off there in the west, and 
 in an hour it \vill be as bright as can be." 
 
 " Well then, never mind sending to Mrs. Oldmixon. 
 I ll take the responsibility of ordering an open carriage. 
 In the mean time I ll take a walk. Which is the way to 
 the State House?" 
 
 The clerk pointed out the direction, and Hogarth was 
 soon walking around the State House circle, and thinking 
 to himself what a bold stroke that was to invite the clerk 
 to send up to Mrs. Oldmixon, when, if he had done so, 
 the fact of her death would have been at once discovered. 
 He smiled as he thought of the occurrence. " I saw 
 there was no servant about," he said, " and that it would 
 be some trouble for him to get one. Besides, they charge 
 more for open carriages than they do for close ones. It 
 was a pretty safe move, and it will do me an infinite de 
 gree of good in about an hour from now." 
 
A TENDER-HEAKTED HUSBAND. 201 
 
 Having gone around the circle, he walked down a street 
 that led to the water, and then across to the main street, 
 upon which the hotel stood. His chief object now was 
 to occupy the time till the carriage arrived at the door, 
 and it became necessary to notify his wife to get ready 
 for her drive. He was aware that many persons in situa 
 tions similar to his betray themselves by their excessive 
 anxiety not to appear discomposed, and by a meddlesome 
 ness with matters that are working well, and that should 
 therefore be let alone. He was not one to wreck him 
 self on any such shoals as these. He had, ever since he 
 had left the hotel, been thinking over the probable course 
 that an average man would pursue if he had ordered a 
 carriage for a live wife, as he had ordered one for a dead 
 wife. He was trying to find out exactly what the bold 
 ness of innocence would prompt a man to do, and having, 
 without much difficulty for his knowledge of human 
 nature was great arrived at a definite conclusion on 
 this point, he had nothing further to accomplish than to 
 walk about the place as openly as possible till the hour 
 for returning to the hotel came round. While it was no 
 part of his plan to do things for the purpose of disarming 
 suspicion, he thought it would not be amiss for him to 
 enter one or two shops and to purchase some trifling arti 
 cle in each. It would give the occupants an opportunity 
 for noting his calm and equable manner, and that might 
 be of importance to him. He could imagine them say 
 ing to each other, 
 
 " Just think, that while he was in here buying that 
 
 tooth-brush and as pleasant a man as ever came into the 
 
 store his poor wife was lying dead in her bed at the City 
 
 Hotel. He would have looked very differently, I guess, 
 
 9* 
 
MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 if lie could have known that his bride had gone to another 
 world ;"or, 
 
 : Poor fellow ! little did he know when he was pick 
 ing out that soap for her that she was gone to where the 
 soul is cleansed [the Annapolitans are a pious people] of 
 all its impurities by the blood of the Lamb, that washes 
 whiter than soap. How particular he was to get violet ! 
 It was her favorite perfume, he said." 
 
 That was about the way they would talk, he supposed, 
 and the result showed how profound was his knowledge 
 of the way of the world. 
 
 lie walked around the church circle, and then out tow 
 ard St. John s College, and then turning to the east, 
 reached a street that took him to the State House Circle 
 again. lie looked at his watch. It was a quarter of five. 
 It was time for him to return and face the terrible ordeal 
 that had within it perhaps the potentiality of sending him 
 to the gallows. Pshaw ! That was impossible ! 
 
 As he entered the hotel he saw that a carriage, pre 
 sumably the one he had ordered, was at the door. He 
 crossed the hall on his way to the staircase in full view 
 of the clerk, who was standing behind the counter talk 
 ing to one of the servants of the house. 
 66 Is that my carriage ?" he inquired. 
 " Yes, sir," answered the clerk ; "shall I send up for 
 Mrs. Oldmixon?" 
 
 There was a hesitation of the fraction of a second be 
 fore Hogarth answered. A less bold or a less shrewd 
 man would have jumped at the chance offered of having 
 the awful discovery made for him that a visit to the room 
 above must necessarily reveal. But Hogarth was bold 
 and he was shrewd. He reflected that it would be more 
 in accordance with the fitness of things that a newly mar- 
 
A TENDEK-HEAKTED HUSBAND. 203 
 
 ried man would, under the circumstances, after having 
 been absent an hour, go himself to inform his wife that 
 he had arranged for a drive, and that the carriage was at 
 the door. At the same time, he thought that it would 
 be well that some one should be present when the discov 
 ery of the dead body was made, and it took only an in 
 stant for him to arrange in his mind for that object. 
 
 " No, he replied ; " I will go up for her myself. I 
 wish, however, you would send a man to unstrap a trunk 
 that I want to get at." 
 
 " Go with the gentleman, Tom." 
 
 Hogarth ascended the steps, followed by Tom, a big, 
 good-natured negro, who, like his people generally, was 
 ready to enter into conversation with strangers. 
 
 " I guess * Naplis ain t as big as New York," he said. 
 "It s growed aheap, though, since they brought the 
 Yard here." 
 
 " No, it s not so large as New York," answered Ho 
 garth, in his suavest tones. < What s the best drive about 
 here, Tom?" he inquired, determining to make friends 
 with the man. 
 
 ""Well, everybody goes down to the Yard. And 
 then there s the hay-scales most everybody goes to see 
 them scales." 
 
 By this time they were at the door of Hogarth s room 
 the one that he and his wife had used as a sitting-room. 
 He turned the knob and entered, followed by Tom. The 
 door between the two rooms was closed. 
 
 "There s the trunk, Tom," he said, pointing to it. 
 " The tongue of one of the buckles seems to have got 
 bent in some way or other, and as you re stronger than 
 1 am, perhaps you can straighten it." 
 
 " I never seen the trunk yet dis chile couldn t open. 
 
204 
 
 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 Dat is, of course," lie added, laughing, "if I had the 
 key." 
 
 He bent over it, and while he was busy fumbling at 
 the strap, Hogarth opened the door between that room 
 and the one in which lay the corpse of his wife. Yes, 
 there it was, just as he had left it. He stood for a mo 
 ment looking at it, and then he hurriedly crossed the floor 
 to the bed. The man in the next room could have seen 
 every action, had he turned around. Hogarth did not 
 know whether he was looking or not, but he hoped he 
 was, and he felt quite sure that he was, knowing, as he 
 did, the curiosity of the negro. At any rate, his actions 
 were all based upon the presumption that he was observed, 
 and hence he intended that they should be as nearly as 
 possible such as his knowledge of human nature had 
 taught him w^ould be natural under the circumstances in 
 which he was apparently placed. 
 
 Milly!" he said, as though addressing his sleeping 
 wife. Milly ! he repeated, in a somewhat louder voice. 
 " Milly !" again, still louder, accompanied with a gentle 
 shake of the shoulders of the dead woman. 
 
 Then he placed his arms under the body and raised it 
 up in the bed. " Milly ! Milly !" he cried. Then to 
 the man who had been looking and listening all the time : 
 "My God, something has happened ! Eun at once, and 
 tell them to send for a doctor !" 
 
 Tom gave one good look in through the door. He saw 
 Hogarth supporting the form of his wife with one hand, 
 while he rubbed her forehead with the other, and spoke 
 to her in the tenderest words a man can use. Then he 
 rnshed down-stairs at full speed, telling a couple of cham 
 bermaids he met on the way to go in there to No. 
 22, and help the gentleman. "His wife s fainted, 1 
 
A TENDER-HEARTED HUSBAND. 205 
 
 guess, or somethin o that sort s happened." Then 
 shouting out to the clerk that something was the matter 
 in No. 22, he dashed across the street to summon Dr. 
 Ridings. 
 
 The clerk was as dignified an individual as a hotel-clerk 
 ought to be. It was against his principles to show haste, 
 or even undue interest, in anything that he did ; but Tom s 
 manner, as well as his words and the screams that reached 
 his ears from up-stairs, told him that something serious 
 had occurred, and that the honor of the house required 
 that he should make himself personally acquainted with 
 the circumstances. He therefore and he could not re 
 call that he had ever done the like before in all his life 
 mounted the stairs two at a time, and at the door of No. 
 22 was met by Mr. Hogarth Oldmixon, who, as pale as 
 death, gasped out : 
 
 " A doctor ! for God s sake, a doctor ! Is there no phy 
 sician to be had for love or money ?" 
 
 4 What s the matter ?" said the clerk. I ve sent for 
 a doctor. He entered the room as he spoke. The wom 
 en in the next apartment had ceased screaming, but 
 they were busy rubbing the hands of the limp body that 
 lay on the bed. 
 
 " O Mr. Campbell !" said one of them, " she s quite 
 dead. She must have been dead an hour, for she s get 
 ting cold." 
 
 All this time Hogarth was walking the room wringing 
 his hands, and ejaculating every moment expressions 
 that were well calculated to show the depth of his 
 grief. 
 
 " So young," he said, approaching the bed, while tears 
 real tears ran down his cheeks, " and so happy, and 
 to be taken off in this way ! My God, I do not understand 
 
206 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 it. I left her an hour ago well and joyous. I return to 
 find her dead. Oh, it is hard, very hard !" 
 
 " Calm yourself, Mr. Oldmixon," said the clerk, who 
 had satisfied himself that Mrs. Oldmixon was really dead. 
 " These things are hard to bear, but " 
 
 "Hard to bear!" exclaimed Hogarth, passionately , 
 throwing himself across the dead body of his wife 
 "this is impossible to be borne. Oh, why was 1 not 
 also taken ? Milly, my darling ! are you really dead ? So 
 young ! so lovely ! My wife ! my wife ! come back to me ! 
 oh, come back !" 
 
 " Mr. Oldmixon," said the clerk, moved to tears by 
 the unrestrained grief of the afflicted husband, there 
 is the doctor" as that gentleman entered the room, fol 
 lowed by Tom " perhaps there may still be a spark of 
 life, and it may not yet be too late to revive her." 
 
 The doctor, without speaking, approached the bed, 
 while Mr. Campbell gently raised Hogarth from the dead 
 body that he was passionately embracing, and led him 
 into the next room. 
 
 It did not take the physician long to arrive at an opin 
 ion relative to the case to which he had been called, al 
 though Tom s information had not led him to expect one 
 of such great gravity. Mrs. Oldmixon was dead. The 
 only thing he had to do was to ascertain, if possible, the 
 cause of her death, and then to give the certificate for 
 burial or removal from the city, as might be desired. 
 The authorities in small towns, where crimes of violence 
 are less common than they are in the large cities, are not 
 so strict in such matters as they ought to be, and the 
 doctor, who disliked making a fuss when it could be 
 avoided, hoped that there would be enough of a history 
 of the case for him to base an opinion on without his be- 
 
A TENDER-HEARTED HUSBAND. 207 
 
 ing obliged to resort to a post-mortem examination or a 
 coroner s inquest. 
 
 " Tin s is a very sad event," lie said, going over to 
 where Hogarth sat, under the soothing admonitions of 
 Mr. Campbell, " and a very sudden one, too. Will you 
 try and calm yourself, Mr. Oldmixon, sufficiently to give 
 me an account of the event, so far as your knowledge ex 
 tends ?" 
 
 Hogarth at these words looked wildly around him for 
 a moment, as though endeavoring to ascertain where he 
 was, and then having apparently settled his mind on the 
 point, said : 
 
 " I left her at four o clock in perfect health ; I returned 
 at five to find her dead. That is all I know." He 
 buried his face in his hands when he had said these words, 
 and sobbed as though his heart were broken. 
 
 " Had she been complaining of pain in her head or 
 chest?" inquired the doctor, whose thoughts were run 
 ning in the direction of brain or heart disease. 
 
 Hogarth shook his head. "No," he said, after wait 
 ing a moment, as though to give effect to the double de 
 nial, " she complained of no pain anywhere. She said 
 she felt a little tired, and would lie down while I was 
 out." 
 
 "Was thafc all she said ?" continued the doctor, anx 
 ious to find some symptom that would lead to further in 
 quiry, and thus do away with the necessity of a post 
 mortem examination. 
 
 " She asked me to purchase one or two toilet articles 
 for her. I have them here. He took from his pocket 
 the tooth-brush and soap he had bought, and laid them 
 on the table. "Yes," he continued, with more anima 
 tion than had yet characterized his remarks, i she said 
 
208 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 she felt faint, and I sprinkled a little eau de cologne on 
 her handkerchief, and held it to her face for a moment. 
 That seemed to revive her." 
 
 " Were there no nausea, feeling of suffocation, diz 
 ziness, or sense of constriction about the head or chest ? 
 No pain nothing but what you have mentioned ?" 
 
 " No ; there was nothing. I attached no importance to 
 the faintness, as she had several times experienced it. 
 1 supposed it was the result of slight dyspepsia." 
 
 Now, strange as it may seem though it is only another 
 instance of the boldness with which Hogarth Oldmixon 
 was endowed he desired that there should be a post-mor 
 tem examination of his wife s remains, and a regular 
 certificate of the cause of death given. He knew that 
 such a certificate, followed as he desired it to be by a cor 
 oner s inquest, would be the most effectual confutation 
 that could be had of any hints or suspicions that there 
 had been foul play. He had heard it said that not one 
 person in a hundred has a perfectly healthy heart. His 
 wife had once or twice complained of feeling a little op 
 pression after climbing many steps. She was slightly 
 inclined to stoutness, and he had understood that one of 
 her sisters had several years previously died of heart dis 
 ease. 
 
 Besides these points, there were two others that he 
 deemed of great importance. He saw that the doctor 
 was an old-fashioned practitioner, who probably had not 
 made a post-mortem examination since he had been a 
 medical student, and he knew enough of the human body 
 to be aware of the fact that he had, by suffocating his 
 wife, produced a congestion of the lungs, such as would 
 have resulted from a failure of the heart to send the blood 
 through them, and that this organ would be found gorged 
 
A TEKDEK-HEAKTED HUSBAND. 209 
 
 with the fluid that it could not propel into lungs that 
 could not expand. He was quite sure that a post-mortem 
 examination would convince the doctor that death had 
 been due either to congestion of the lungs or heart-disease. 
 Armed with his certificate to this effect, and the verdict 
 of a coroner s jury based upon it, and his wife s dead 
 body in the ground, he would be absolutely safe, not only 
 so far as his neck was concerned, but even from the sus 
 picion that he had committed murder. 
 
 " My dear friend," he said, taking hold of the doctor s 
 hand, " you are very kind, and I see that you wish to 
 spare me the pain of a post-mortem examination of the 
 remains of my dear wife. Bat, however terrible the idea 
 may be, I desire "that nothing shall be omitted that can 
 throw light on the cause of her death. I hope, Mr. 
 Campbell," he continued, turning to the clerk, and speak 
 ing with more firmness, " that you will at once notify 
 the coroner that a sudden and altogether unexplainable 
 death has taken place, and request him as a favor to a 
 wretched man, too much disturbed to write for himself, 
 to make his examination as soon as possible this evening, 
 if it is within his power." 
 
 " I will go to him myself," answered the clerk, " and 
 I will engage to have him here in half an hour. 
 
 "At the same time," continued Hogarth, " be kind 
 enough to send this message by telegraph to her poor 
 father." He tore a blank leaf out of a book and wrote : 
 
 " Camilla died suddenly between four and five o clock 
 this afternoon. Further particulars will be sent in an 
 hour. If you leave to night, you can be here to-morrow 
 morning. I am wild with grief. Come. 
 
 i HOGARTH OLDMIXON. 
 
210 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 Within the half hour the coroner arrived, and at once 
 directed that a post-mortem examination should be made. 
 Dr. Hidings performed it, and unhesitatingly gave his 
 evidence to the effect that death had ensued from con 
 gestion of the lungs, probably due to a feeble heart, and 
 the coroner s jury returned their verdict in accordance 
 with the physician s dictum. And all the medical wisdom 
 of the world, with nothing but the corpse before it, unac 
 quainted with the facts, and with no ground for suspicion, 
 could not have arrived at any other opinion than that the 
 death was due to natural causes, inherent in her organism. 
 
CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 A VISION, OK WHAT ? 
 
 A FEW days after Jack liad finished his picture Mr. 
 Oldmixon returned to New York, feeling, as he declared, 
 as well as he ever had felt in his life, so far as his body 
 was concerned, but stupid and indolent to an extreme 
 degree in everything that related to mental activity. He 
 had invited Jack by letter from Saratoga to breakfast 
 with him at the Lucullus, and the two were sitting at the 
 table enjoying that delightful meal, the ability to appre 
 ciate which is one of the surest evidences of good health. 
 He had heard nothing of the sudden death of Mrs. 
 Hogarth Oldmixon at Annapolis, having while at Saratoga 
 been shut off from all newspaper facilities for getting a 
 knowledge of what was going on in the world at large, 
 or, rather, having shut himself off purposely from such 
 means of communication. The large hotels were all 
 closed, he saw nobody that he knew, and it was too much 
 trouble for him to get a New York paper. He had come 
 there for the benefit of his health, and he did not want to 
 have the restorative processes that had been set in action 
 disturbed by reading of the murders, arsons, robberies, 
 embezzlements, and other crimes that constitute the staple 
 items of intelligence furnished by most of the newspapers. 
 
 But Jack had read of the sad event in the papers of 
 the following morning, and had attended the funeral of 
 the young wife at the church and at the cemetery. He 
 
212 MB. OLDMIXON. 
 
 had seen Hogarth there, but Hogarth had not seen him, 
 being apparently so much overcome with grief that he had 
 kept his face buried in a handkerchief all the time that 
 the services were going on in the church and at the grave. 
 
 He saw as soon as he and his uncle came together that 
 the old gentleman knew nothing of the catastrophe, and 
 he was deliberating with himself whether or not he should 
 tell him of what had occurred. " Perhaps," he thought, 
 " it will be better for me to let him find it out for him 
 self." 
 
 But a little reflection brought him to the conclusion 
 that this would be neither wise nor kind, and he perceived 
 that such a course would justly lay him open to rebuke 
 from his uncle. He resolved, therefore, that as soon as 
 the breakfast was over he would enlighten him, and he 
 concluded that the best way to do this would be to give 
 him the newspaper to read that contained a full account 
 of the affair as known to the public, and which he had at 
 that moment in his pocket. 
 
 "I feel particularly charitable this morning, my dear 
 boy," said Mr. Oldmixon, after he had swallowed the last 
 glass of Chablis a wine he always drank for his break 
 fast " I feel at peace with all the world, always saving 
 and excepting that rascal Hogarth. I even think I could 
 forgive Partridge for putting that vile jam, or whatever 
 it was, on canvas-back. I ve been thinking it over. You 
 know they don t know much about canvas-backs in St. 
 Louis. Ilow the devil should they, when they are two 
 thousand miles west of the Chesapeake?" 
 
 Jack laughed ; " I don t think you can fairly let him 
 off on that score," he said. " They get the canvas-back 
 now about as promptly in St. Louis as they do in New 
 York, and they know how to cook and eat it there, too." 
 
A VISION, OB WHAT? 213 
 
 " Now, Jack, you re determined to outdo me in gener 
 osity. No one knows how to cook and eat a canvas-back 
 unless lie s been born and brought up on the Chesapeake, 
 or very near it. Why, they don t even know in New 
 York, unless it is the few choice spirits, like myself, who 
 have been lucky enough to come from where the ducks 
 come from, and the still fewer people we ve taught. I ve 
 eaten canvas-backs in this very town at the tables of 
 people that ought to know better, and they tasted as 
 though they had but one hour before been puddling in a 
 mud-paddle I mean paddling in a mud-puddle," he con 
 tinued, hastily correcting himself. 
 
 " I m sorry, Uncle Victor, " said Jack, who judged that 
 his time had now come, i that you still feel so hardly 
 toward poor Hogarth. 
 
 " Now, Jack, none of that ! I ve had enough of * poor 
 Hogarth ! and I propose to drop him altogether out of 
 my recollection, if I can. He never did you a good turn 
 in all his life, yet here you are eternally bringing the fel 
 low up, as though he were the best friend you had on the 
 earth." 
 
 u He is my brother," said Jack, with some feeling. 
 
 " Yes, and much good the relationship has done you. 
 No more of poor Hogarth. You ll make me think 
 that you re the 
 
 sweet little cherub that sits up aloft, 
 
 To keep watch for the life of poor Jack 
 
 Hogarth, I mean." 
 
 u I didn t know, Uncle Victor, but that since Hogarth 
 has met with such an awful misfortune, you might be a 
 little more kindly disposed toward him, that s all." 
 
 " Misfortune ! What misfortune ? Has he been sent 
 
214 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 to the penitentiary, or" (with an utter disregard of the 
 possibilities) " been hanged, or has he blown his brains 
 out ?" 
 
 "No," answered Jack, " it is none of these. Haven t 
 you heard?" 
 
 " Hear ! How the devil could I hear, shut up in that 
 damned hole, with no one to talk to but a freckled and 
 toothless old woman, who wanted to cure my gout with 
 hard cider ? What has happened to the fellow ?" 
 
 " His wife is dead." 
 
 "What! Camilla! Dead!" 
 
 Mr. Oldmixon uttered these three words with a long 
 interval after each, and then his jaw fell, his eyes glared 
 vacantly at nothing, his hands dropped to his side, and 
 he appeared to have lost consciousness. 
 
 Jack sprang to his uncle s side, and soon discovered that 
 the condition of collapse, though severe, was not likely to 
 be of long duration. In a few moments he asked for a 
 glass of wine, and having drunk it, expressed himself as 
 feeling better. 
 
 It was a great shock to me, my dear boy. These things 
 seem to be coming in battalions. Give me my nitrite of 
 amyl. I shall be all right physically if I can get a few 
 whiffs of that ; but my mind, Jack, is getting to be hope 
 lessly shattered ; it will never be what it once was." 
 
 Jack put his hands into his uncle s waistcoat pocket 
 and took out a small vial. A few whiffs of the contents 
 seemed to act as a restorative to the old man, and to en 
 able him to talk with greater ease. 
 
 " Tell me all about it," he continued ; " I think I can 
 stand it now." 
 
 Jack got out the newspaper. " Her death was very 
 sudden. There is a full account of it here, and I ll read 
 
A VISION, OR WHAT? 215 
 
 it to you. It s a telegraphic despatch from Annapolis, 
 and was published in all the papers on the morning after 
 the occurrence. 
 
 Mr. Oldrnixon closed his eyes, and lay back in his chair 
 while Jack read : 
 
 " SUDDEN DEATH OF A NEW YORK LADY. 
 
 " ANNAPOLIS, MARYLAND, Nov. 24, 1881. Mrs. Ho 
 garth Oldmixon, a bride of only a few days, died here 
 very suddenly at the City Hotel this afternoon, between 
 four and five o clock. Her husband left the hotel for 
 a walk at four o clock, and when he returned, at five, 
 found his wife a corpse. Life had probably been ex 
 tinct for nearly an hour. 
 
 " A post-mortem examination was made by Dr. Hid 
 ings, with the result of ascertaining that death had ensued 
 from congestion of the lungs, the consequence, probably, 
 of fatty degeneration of the heart, or some other form of 
 cardiac weakness. The coroner s jury returned a verdict 
 to that effect. 
 
 " Mrs. Oldmixon s father is expected here to-morrow 
 morning, when the body will be taken to N ew Y ork for 
 burial. Mr. Oldmixon is almost distracted with grief. 
 
 " In this other paper," continued Jack, " there is an 
 account of the funeral. 1 thought it an act of respect to 
 go to it, and 
 
 " Did you go to her funeral^- my boy?" interrupted 
 Mr. Oldmixon. " God bless you for that !" 
 
 " Hogarth appeared to be in great grief," resumed 
 Jack. "I would have spoken to him, only I did not 
 like to intrude upon him at such a time, and besides 
 
216 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 i ~No, exclaimed Mr. Oldmixon, jumping from his 
 cliair ; " never speak to the wretch if you live a thousand 
 years ! He is a murderer ! I tell you, Jack, he killed 
 his wife. I saw him do it ! Yes, I saw him do it ! He 
 murdered her, cruelly murdered her, and I I saw him 
 doit." 
 
 The last words were spoken very feebly, as Mr. Old 
 mixon, unable to stand any longer, fell back into Jack s 
 arms, and was by his nephew carried, or rather dragged, to 
 a sofa, where he lay down at full length, inhaling the 
 nitrite of amyl that was held to his nostrils. 
 
 Jack s first idea was, that his uncle had suddenly be 
 come insane ; and the persistency with which he reiterated 
 the assertion that he had seen Hogarth kill his wife did 
 not tend to lessen this impression. Indeed, he had, ever 
 since the renewal of pleasant relations with Mr. Oldmixon, 
 been disposed to think that he was subject to periodical 
 attacks of lunacy, and he was convinced that he was suf 
 fering from a paroxysm now of as well-marked a char 
 acter as had ever been witnessed inside or outside of an 
 asylum. He therefore made no reply to the assertions of 
 his uncle, hoping that in a short time the delusion would 
 disappear. 
 
 " Jack," at last said the old gentleman, " doubtless 
 you think I m a lunatic, and I should not blame you if 
 you did, for the Oldmixons, as you know, are a queer lot, 
 and there s been insanity in the family, as well as worse 
 things, for many generations back. I may be insane, 
 sometimes I think 1 am, -for I am conscious of ten of say 
 ing and doing things that sane men don t say or do. I 
 think I told you some time ago that I thought 1 pos 
 sessed the power to become sane or insane at will. But if 
 you were to think that I m insane from what I said just 
 
A VISION, OR WHAT? 217 
 
 now, you d make a great mistake. I never was more in 
 earnest in my life, and never more fully in possession of 
 my mental faculties. Jack, I tell you I saw him murder 
 her !" 
 
 " I don t understand, Uncle Yictor," said Jack ; 
 " you were at Saratoga at the time. At least, 1 suppose 
 so, and Hogarth and his wife were in Annapolis, three 
 hundred miles distant. It seems scarcely necessary for 
 me to ask you how, under these circumstances, you could 
 see such an act as that you speak of, for of course you 
 could not. Your prejudice against Hogarth has distorted 
 your mind to such an extent that you deceive yourself, 
 and you are ready to believe any absurd fancy to his dis 
 advantage that comes into your head." 
 
 Jack spoke decisively, and with a good deal of feeling. 
 He was determined not to countenance his uncle in the 
 outrageously unreasonable notions that he was disposed 
 to entertain relative to Hogarth, and this, the most pre 
 posterous of them all, he resolved to crush at once. 
 
 " I don t wonder to hear you talk that way, my boy," 
 said Mr. Oldrnixon, feebly ; " you re such a good fellow 
 yourself, that you can t suspect evil in others. As to 
 my knowledge of the fact that Hogarth murdered his 
 wife, I am as much surprised at it as you can be, and I 
 did not accept my information as being true till you told 
 me that my Camilla was really dead. Then it all flashed 
 upon me in an instant, and now I know him to be a 
 murderer. 
 
 " I was not aware that you had any information on the 
 subject," observed Jack, apologetically, " or 1 should not 
 have spoken so positively. Pray, forgive me. As to 
 what you tell me about Hogarth, it is wonderful. I only 
 hope that you have been misinformed. I think you 
 10 
 
218 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 ought to put me, his brother, in possession of all that 
 you know on the subject." 
 
 4 I intend to do so, Jack, just as soon as I get a little 
 more composed. I suppose I might as well do it now," 
 he continued, as he sat upon the sofa. " Ring the bell, 
 Jack, and ask the fellow to bring me some brandy and 
 soda." 
 
 Jack did as requested, and his uncle, after having 
 mixed and drunk the liquids he had ordered, began : 
 
 " I wouldn t expect you to believe what I am going to 
 say, if I didn t have the proof in my pocket, and which 
 I ll show you when I get through. I was sitting on the 
 lawn in front of my boarding-house at Saratoga on the 
 afternoon of the 24th of last month ; I had just finished 
 reading a chapter of Silberhausen s great work on wines, 
 and was thinking of what he said about the prospects of 
 producing wines in this country that would excel those 
 of France and Germany, when suddenly I saw a scene, 
 apparently enacted before my very eyes, that filled me 
 with horror. And yet, when 1 say that 1 saw it, I am 
 not quite sure that I am correct. I certainly perceived 
 it, but I think I saw it just as distinctly when I closed 
 my eyes as 1 did when they were open. Indeed, I am 
 sure 1 did. By whatever means the images got to my 
 perceptive faculties, this is what I perceived : 
 
 " A man was standing by a window looking out into 
 the street ; a woman sat in a rocking-chair behind him 
 rocking herself violently. The man was Hogarth, the 
 woman was Camilla. It was a clear and delightful day 
 where I was ; it was raining furiously at the place where 
 these two were. Bear that point in mind, please. 
 
 " A horrid scowl was on Hogarth s face, and his hands 
 were twitching convulsively, as though itching to get hold 
 
A VISION, OE WHAT? 219 
 
 of something or somebody. Camilla looked dignified 
 and calm, though at the same time angry. I could not 
 hear a word, and therefore had no knowledge of what 
 they had said, or were saying to each other ; but their 
 actions were as clear to me as yours are now. 
 
 Mr. Oldmixon took another potion of the brandy and 
 soda, and then resumed his relation. 
 
 " Suddenly the scowl on Hogarth s face deepened ; his 
 countenance flashed with rage ; he turned, and with one 
 great bound seized Camilla, and lifting her from the 
 chair, bore her rapidly into the next room. Here he 
 threw her on the bed and stuffed a handkerchief into her 
 mouth, while she struggled violently to free herself from 
 his grasp. But it was no use ; he held her down on the 
 bed, and then he took the pillow and pressed it over her 
 face, so that I could no longer see it. 
 
 " All this was so real to me, that I screamed out aloud 
 for help, but I was powerless to rise from the chair, and 
 in the mean time the horrible drama was being enacted 
 before my mental vision. 
 
 " He forced the pillow against her face, and then 
 leaned over it with the whole weight of his body. She 
 had not ceased to struggle, but I could see that her 
 movements were those involuntary, spasmodic ones 
 that are performed without consciousness. Gradually 
 they became less violent, and at last ceased altogether. 
 Still Hogarth continued to lie with his whole weight 
 on the pillow, He was determined to make a sure 
 thing of it. 
 
 " Again I screamed, c He is murdering her ! He is 
 murdering her ! But no one answered, and all my ef 
 forts to get up and run for assistance for so real was the 
 whole scene to me that I could not rid myself of the 
 
220 ME. OLDMIXOtf. 
 
 idea that it was taking place right there were in vain. 
 1 seemed to be like lead ; I could not move a limb. 
 
 " Finally Hogarth raised himself from the bed, and 
 then, after a moment s pause, removed the pillow from 
 Camilla s face. She lay there perfectly motionless, and 
 as peaceful-looking as though she were asleep. He put 
 the bed-clothes in order, folded her hands across her 
 chest, smoothed her dress, and then turned to leave the 
 room. At that instant I caught a last sight of his face. 
 If I live a thousand years, God save me from ever be 
 holding such another face as that ! It contained in its 
 expression all the concentrated rage and wickedness of a 
 lifetime. And fear ! Ah ! yes, there was fear there. 
 The wretch was already bleached with terror. Large 
 drops of sweat cold sweat, 1 do not doubt stood out 
 on his face. He seemed to be about to run away, panic- 
 stricken, from the body that he had made a corpse. 
 Yes, he saw the gallows looming up in awful distinctness 
 before him, but in a moment he became calm, and then 
 I saw nothing more. A half a dozen women came run 
 ning toward me from various parts of the house, asking 
 what was the matter, and insisting that they had heard 
 cries for assistance that seemed to come from me. " 
 
 " You fell asleep, uncle, and dreamed all that. It is 
 very clear. You had been thinking of Hogarth and his 
 wife, and fearing that he would not treat her well ; and 
 that idea directed the cause of your dream. Doubtless 
 you also called out in your sleep. People often do that. 
 
 " Yes, I know. That s what the women said when I 
 denied having called out ; for you see I didn t care, of 
 course, to tell them what I had perceived. But it was 
 no dream ; I was not asleep for a single instant." 
 
 " Well, uncle, what was it ? You surely don t mean 
 
A VISION, OK WHAT? 221 
 
 to say that while you were at Saratoga, and Hogarth in 
 Annapolis, you saw him kill his wife ?" 
 
 " Yes, I do !" exclaimed Mr. Oldmixon, jumping up 
 and bringing his fist down on the table, till the glasses 
 jingled. " That s exactly what I mean to say. Explain 
 it I cannot. But I know that 1 saw what was real, and 
 by the living God I ll bring him to the gallows for his 
 crime ! There hasn t been an Oldmixon hanged for 
 many years, but many months will not elapse before he ll 
 dance on nothing !" 
 
 Jack saw that it was useless to attempt to argue the 
 matter. His uncle s convictions were as strong as it was 
 possible for them to be, and nothing but time could be 
 expected to act as an effectual antidote to them. It was 
 not likely that they would lead to anything further. 
 
 " I wrote it all down," continued Mr. Oldmixon, after 
 he had refreshed himself with a few whiffs of the nitrite 
 of amyl, and another glass of brandy and soda, " and I 
 have the record here." 
 
 He took out his pocketbook, and from one of the com 
 partments extracted a sheet of paper folded like a letter. 
 This he handed to Jack. 
 
 " Read it," he said, " and see if it accords with what 
 I have just told you." 
 
 Jack did as requested, and having finished reading it, 
 gave it back to his uncle. 
 
 "It is almost word for word with what you have 
 stated," he said. 
 
 " Yery well ! Now look at the date here on the back. " 
 
 Jack again took the paper and read : 
 
 " Thursday, November 24, 1881, 3.35 P.M." 
 
 " I took out my watch at the moment I ceased to see 
 anything," resumed Mr. Oldmixon, " and that was the 
 
222 MB. 
 
 exact time. Now, lie continued, bending toward Jack, 
 and speaking with a degree of concentrated energy, 
 " 1 solemnly declare that at that very hour, allowing for 
 the difference of time, Hogarth Oldmixon murdered his 
 wife. My bird, he sobbed his voice losing its force 
 and relapsing into a weakness that rendered the words 
 tittered almost indistinguishable " killed her bird, my 
 nephew killed her. A truly sad experience she has had 
 of the Oldmixon family. There s only one event want 
 ing to make the group perfect, and that is the hanging 
 of her husband. That shall be my life-work till it is 
 accomplished or I have driven him to suicide." 
 
 " Why, what a sanguinary old uncle he s getting to 
 be !" said Brooks, entering the room at the moment. 
 " They told me down-stairs that you were here, and that 
 I could come right up for all they knew to the contrary. 
 "Who s that you re going to drive to suicide ? Some one, 
 I ll bet, that s given you warm champagne. How are 
 you, Uncle Victor ? How are you, Mr. Oldmixon ?" 
 
 " Yes," said the old gentleman, never for an instant 
 losing his presence of mind, " I was alluding to a fellow 
 who did that very thing; curious coincidence, isn t it? 
 I ve been away, you know. Spent ten days at Saratoga, 
 drinking the Geyser water and gaining wisdom from my 
 books and the contemplation of nature. Happy is the 
 man who can be his own companion !" 
 
 " Why, Uncle Victor, you have come back more of a 
 philosopher than ever. You ve been absorbing knowl 
 edge and wisdom, as this new luminous paint absorbs 
 light, and you re giving them out to us as it emits in the 
 darkness the rays it has received from the sun." 
 
 " Yes, yes," answered Mr. Oldmixon, complacently, 
 "something of that sort, I suppose. Let us hope that, 
 
A VISION, OK WHAT? 223 
 
 unlike the luminous paint, I shall not confine my illumi 
 nations to the dark." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! very good ! But," assuming a serious air, 
 " I beg to offer my condolences on the death of Mrs. Ho 
 garth Oldmixon. Yery sudden, wasn t it ? I saw your 
 nephew yesterday. He was looking as though he had suf 
 fered greatly. Poor fellow ! A widower in five days ! 
 That s what I call hard luck." 
 
 1 Yes," answered Mr. Oldmixon, with a degree of 
 composure that fairly astonished Jack, " Hogarth has 
 been unfortunate. I did not know the lady he married 
 except by sight, but I understand she was a very esti 
 mable woman." 
 
 Truly his uncle was a remarkable man, and Jack no 
 longer had any fear that he would make use of the " in 
 formation" he had received in a way to create a scandal. 
 He would probably go to work secretly to inquire into the 
 matter of the truth of what had so vividly been impressed 
 on his mind, but there would be no public denuncia 
 tion of Hogarth. Indeed, any such course now, with no 
 other evidence than his vision or whatever else it might 
 have been, would only recoil upon himself, without do 
 ing the least harm to the object of his attack. The whole 
 matter would be regarded by the public as an act of per 
 secution against a nephew who had offended him. No ; 
 Jack felt sure now that his uncle would do nothing of 
 the kind unless he should succeed in obtaining more 
 tangible proof of Hogarth s criminality than that in his 
 possession. He was not to be long without other evi 
 dences of Mr. Oldmixon s sagacity and at the same time of 
 his perseverance ; for in a few minutes Mr. Brooks, dis 
 covering, probably, that he had broken in on a party 
 that wished to be in privacy, took his departure. No 
 
224 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 sooner had the door closed behind him than Mr. Old- 
 mixon began : 
 
 u It was well I took this private room," he said, " see 
 ing that we ve so much to say that is not for the public 
 ear though they made me pay for four. How devilish 
 absurd that you can t dine or breakfast here with a friend 
 in a private room unless you have four in the party ! I 
 order for four and pay for four, and that stops their 
 mouths, but it s an imposition ! 
 
 "Well," he resumed, after having unburdened his 
 mind on the subject of private dining-rooms, " you don t 
 believe in my discoveries ? As I said just now, 1 don t 
 blame you. 1 didn t believe in them myself till you told 
 me my poor Camilla was dead. Now 1 am sure ; but 
 at the same time 1 arn going to convince myself by 
 evidence such as will convince you. I have a very 
 clear conception of the situation of the rooms in which 
 the tragedy took place, and I intend to draw a plan of 
 them and to write out an accompanying description. 
 I shall make this in duplicate, and I shall give you one 
 copy, retaining the other myself. Then I shall go to 
 Annapolis in a day or two and I d like you to go along 
 and inspect the place. If it agrees with my descrip 
 tion, you ll admit that there may be something in my 
 vision, won t you ?" 
 
 li Yes," answered Jack, unhesitatingly. " If your 
 written description agrees with the reality, I shall be 
 very much disposed to believe in the rest." 
 
CHAPTEE XY. 
 
 THE BASILISK AND THE WEASEL. 
 
 " Now give me a sheet of paper and pen and ink," 
 said Mr. Oldmixon, " and while you read the morning 
 papers, I ll make my diagrams." 
 
 Jack rang the bell, and ordered the articles in ques 
 tion. 
 
 " Now," he said to the servant, " you can draw away 
 that table, and don t let any one come up here again ; 
 and don t come yourself unless I ring." 
 
 "Very well, sir," answered the man, gathering the 
 breakfast things together. 
 
 After he had gone Jack arranged the materials on the 
 table, and betaking himself to his newspaper, left his 
 uncle to draw the plans which he had in his mind as 
 representing the topographical features of the rooms in 
 the hotel at Annapolis. 
 
 " You must know, Jack," said the old gentleman, 
 after he had been at work a few minutes, " that I have 
 never been to Annapolis. I was born in Baltimore, as 
 you know, but I was brought to New York when a 
 baby by the removal of my parents to this city. There 
 fore my ideas of the place have no other source than the 
 perceptions that occurred to me at Saratoga. How 
 are Government 4s ?" 
 
 " An advance of one eighth since yesterday." 
 
 "Good! If you have any money to invest, put it 
 10* 
 
226 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 in Governments. When they get to be bad the bottom 
 will be out of everything else." 
 
 After another five minutes or so he suddenly inquired : 
 
 " Jack, did you ever see a basilisk ?" 
 
 Jack laughed. " No," he answered ; " I don t think 
 I ever did." 
 
 " Well, you never will, for there s no such thing. I 
 am aware that there is a species of lizard, having a 
 membranous bag on the top of the head, to which the 
 name is applied. It lives partly on the land and partly 
 on the water, but it has no right to the designation. 
 
 " What does he mean by that kind of talk ?" thought 
 Jack. " Is he conscious that his mind is out of order, 
 and is he trying to divert my attention or to mystify me 
 in some way ?" 
 
 " The basilisk," continued Mr. Oldmixon, " was a 
 fabulous beast invented by the ancients. You will find 
 a full account of it in Pliny s i Natural History. Or if 
 you propose to read it in the original," laughing as he 
 spoke, " I have in my library a beautiful edition, printed 
 at Treviso in 1479, and ornamented with illuminated 
 capitals. I was reading it this morning. Liber YIII. 
 Capitulum XXI. 
 
 " I suppose there was no such animal," he went on, 
 after Jack had disclaimed all intention of trying to read 
 Pliny s description of the basilisk in the original Latin, 
 u but that the ancients meant the account of it to typify 
 a particular kind of a man, so low, so vile, so disgustingly 
 fearful, that there was no living animal to which he could 
 be compared. So they invented the basilisk, and when 
 they found a creature having the external characteristics 
 of a man, but yetiri his character so despicable, infamous, 
 abject, villainous, and incarnately devilish that it would 
 
THE BASILISK AKD THE WEASEL. 227 
 
 be a libel on the human species to consider him a man, 
 they called him a basilisk. Well, that s what Ilogarch 
 is." 
 
 " So," thought Jack, " that s what he was after. I 
 don t know what to make of him. He appears to me to 
 be at once one of the most benevolent and one of the 
 most diabolical of men ; one of the wisest and one of 
 the most foolish." 
 
 But Mr. Oldmixon had not yet finished with the basi 
 lisk, and Jack s thoughts were again interrupted by his 
 uncle s remarks relative to this mythical animal. 
 
 " The basilisk, " he said, still going on with his drawing 
 and writing, " was a kind of serpent inhabiting the 
 deserts of Africa. It had a sharp-pointed head with 
 fiery eyes, and was nearly black in color. All other 
 snakes got out of its way, and were frightened at the 
 hissing sound it made. It killed everything it touched, 
 and plants and animals died if only its breath reached 
 them." 
 
 " What a horrid creature !" exclaimed Jack, laughing. 
 
 " Horrid creature !" returned Mr. Oldmixon. " You 
 may well say that. But that s the sort of a beast 
 Hogarth is. To call him a dog, a snake in the grass, a 
 wolf in sheep s clothing, a vulture, would be to insult 
 animals that are respectable when compared to him. 
 Therefore I call him a basilisk. 
 
 " I ll soon be done now, and then we ll see who s right 
 about this matter. I venture to say that when we go to 
 Annapolis we ll find things exactly as I ve put them 
 down here." 
 
 " It will be a very remarkable circumstance if we do," 
 said Jack, his interest at last thoroughly awakened. 
 
 " And then you ll have to admit that I have some 
 
MK. OLDMIXON. 
 
 grounds for sajing that Hogarth murdered his wife, and 
 that I am justified in running him down to his death." 
 
 " I don t know about that, Uncle Victor. I should 
 not like to see my brother die on the gallows, no matter 
 how wicked he might be." 
 
 " Not if he had murdered the woman you loved !" 
 exclaimed Mr. Oldmixon, rising in his excitement and 
 pacing the floor hurriedly. " 1 don t know that you are 
 in love for special reasons very important in their 
 nature I hope you are not or that you have ever been. 
 It may be difficult, therefore, for you to sympathize with 
 me in this matter. It is only those that have suffered 
 that can feel for another s woes." 
 
 " I think," answered Jack, " that it was a dreadful 
 thing for Hogarth to lose his wife, and the sudden way 
 in which she died makes it all the more terrible ; but 
 even if he killed her it appears to me that we are not the 
 ones to secure his punishment." 
 
 61 Speak for yourself, Jack speak for yourself ! By 
 the by, did you ever see a weasel ?" 
 
 " Well, Uncle Yictor,"said Jack, laughing again, in 
 spite of himself, " you have the most astonishing way 
 of unexpectedly changing the conversation, of any person 
 I ever met. As to the weasel, I suppose I have seen it, 
 but 1 can t distinctly recollect at this moment. I have 
 no very clear conception as to what kind of an animal it 
 is, except that 1 have an idea that it never sleeps. Isn t 
 there a saying a,bout catching a weasel asleep ?" 
 
 " Yes, that s the weasel. It s remarkable for its 
 sharpness, agility, quickness of action, and perseverance, 
 and it is so distinguished for these qualities that the 
 common people have a notion that it does not sleep ; 
 hence the proverb catch a weasel asleep ! applied to 
 
THE BASILISK AKD THE WEASEL. 229 
 
 men that are always ready on the qui vive for what 
 ever may turn up. 1 suppose weasels, however, do sleep, 
 though no one ever seems to have caught one in that 
 state. Jack, I m a weasel." 
 
 As Mr. Oldmixon spoke these last words he dropped 
 his pen, and rose from his chair, with two half sheets of 
 paper in his hand. He had made the diagram and 
 explanations, and also a copy for Jack. 
 
 If Mr. Oldmixon had begun the renewal of his 
 acquaintance with his nephew by saying that he was a 
 weasel, Jack would certainly have been astonished ; but 
 now the observation produced no more effect upon him 
 than to cause him to wait with some little interest for 
 the explanation that was certain to come. It had already 
 been given in part by the fact that the old gentleman had 
 called attention to certain qualities of the animal in ques 
 tion which would be valuable in a detective ; and when 
 he stated that he was a weasel he meant Jack to under 
 stand that he intended to pursue Hogarth to the very 
 end, with all the astuteness and perseverance he could 
 bring to bear. But he perceived, from his uncle s man 
 ner, that there was something else that likened him to 
 a weasel, and that was yet to be mentioned. He did 
 not have long to wait. 
 
 " Yes, 1 am a weasel," repeated Mr. Oldmixon. 
 " The weasel is one of the most remarkable animals that 
 a wise and a beneficent Providence has seen fit to place 
 on the earth. Jack, it was the only animal that was able 
 to kill the basilisk. You will find it all in Pliny. 
 Hogarth is the basilisk, I am the weasel. I shall kill 
 him. No, no," he continued, seeing the look on Jack s 
 face, " don t misunderstand me ; I m not going to take his 
 life with these hands, but I am going to bring him to 
 
230 
 
 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 his death for that murder in Annapolis. Kow, take this 
 paper and follow me while I describe the one I retain. 
 They are exactly alike. If not, please call my attention 
 to any differences that may exist." 
 
 Jack took the paper, and while his uncle spoke studied, 
 with the most absorbing interest, the diagram drawn upon 
 it. Here, at least, he thought was something that ad 
 mitted of verification. 
 
 (Jack s copy came into my possession not long ago, 
 and I am therefore enabled to produce it for the more 
 complete elucidation of the subject.) 
 
 B A 
 
 I 
 
 " There were two rooms," began Mr. Oldmixon, " of 
 about equal size. Each fronted on the street, and each 
 had two windows. The one marked A appeared to be a 
 sitting-room ; the one marked B was a bedroom. The 
 entrance to the room A was at a, and the entrance to the 
 room B at 5. The fireplace in the room A was at <?, 
 and that of room B at d. At e and f were wardrobes ; 
 
THE BASILISK AND THE WEASEL. 231 
 
 that in room A was of modern workmanship, and was 
 made of mahogany, but that in room B was smaller, and 
 was an old piece of furniture, made of oak, black now 
 and with a brass ball at each one of the upper corners. 
 At g in room B was the bed, and at h in room A a round 
 table with a yellow marble top. At i in room B was the 
 dressing-bureau, at ~k ~k the washstands, and at 1 1 in room 
 A trunks. There were several chairs in each room, but 
 I do not give their positions, as they have probably been 
 changed. One, however, I do give. At m in room A 
 Camilla sat in a rocking-chair, and the window at which 
 Hogarth stood is marked n. The doorway between the 
 two rooms is marked o. Now, does your diagram 
 coincide with mine ?" 
 
 " Yes, exactly," answered Jack, glancing over the 
 two, as Mr. Oldmixon laid his on the table. * They are 
 alike in all essential respects. It is all very wonderful 
 that you should have such a distinct impression of a 
 place that you have never seen." 
 
 " Yes, but it will be still more wonderful if, when we 
 arrive in Annapolis and visit that hotel, we shall find that 
 I have described those rooms without making a single 
 mistake. 1 don t ask you to believe anything till I 
 prove it. Perhaps you are right to be sceptical. The 
 man s your brother, and my information comes in a queer 
 way. 
 
 " Now, let me show you how the wretch did the horrid 
 deed. Take your diagram, and follow me. 
 
 " Camilla sat in the chair at m," he read, " and the 
 basilisk stood at the window at n. She was rocking 
 herself. Suddenly he turned, bounded toward her, 
 seized her, and carried her through the doorway o and 
 threw her on the bed g. He stuffed the handkerchief 
 
232 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 into her mouth just as he reached the bed. There were 
 two pillows on that bed. He took the one nearer the 
 door, and as her face lay toward him he pressed this 
 pillow against it, and held it there for probably three 
 or four minutes until, in fact, she ceased to struggle. 
 
 " Is that the way it reads in your copy ?" 
 
 " Yes, word for word." 
 
 " Yery well. Now, take care of it, and get ready to go 
 with me to Annapolis Monday next. I would leave to 
 night, but 1 have some business that will keep me for 
 two or three days. I suppose Hogarth is in town." 
 
 " Yes, Brooks said he had seen him, and I saw him at 
 the funeral." 
 
 "Jack, my boy," said Mr. Oldmixon, after a few 
 minutes pause, during which he had appeared to be 
 exercising his mind very deeply over something u Jack, 
 my boy," he repeated, with a little tremor in his voice, 
 "you wouldn t betray your old uncle, I m sure. What 
 has passed and what is to pass between you and me is 
 sacred. 
 
 " What you have said tome," interrupted Jack, " and 
 what you may hereafter say, and everything connected 
 with the subject we have discussed this morning will 
 never reach Hogarth through me." 
 
 " Thank you, Jack. That is just what I expected of 
 you. My dear boy," leaning over the table and looking 
 at his nephew with an expression of the most intense 
 cunning on his countenance, " I m going to resume 
 relations with Hogarth." 
 
 " What, after all that you ve said against him ?" 
 
 " Yes. That s the reason 1 want to have him about 
 me. Don t you see, my dear boy ?" 
 
 Jack was for a moment speechless. He could only 
 
THE BASILISK AND THE WEASEL. 233 
 
 look at his uncle astonished, almost awed, by this new act 
 in the drama. 
 
 "You are a little bewildered, I see, my dear boy," 
 said the old gentleman, blandly. " But what else can 
 I do ? The weasel cannot catch the basilisk unless the 
 weasel and the basilisk are brought together. Of course 
 no one but myself saw Hogarth kill his wife, and the 
 source of my information is such that it would not be 
 received in a court of justice. I have but one way of 
 proceeding, and that is to make the scoundrel confess ; 
 and that, by the blessing of God, I intend to force him to 
 do. You know, dear boy, that alienists tell us that there 
 is very little difference between insanity and genius. 
 You shall decide, after I get through with this job, 
 whether I am a lunatic or an exemplification of that 
 rare form of mental development to which we apply 
 the word genius." 
 
 " You must be your own judge, Uncle Victor," said 
 Jack, " of your own conduct and of its propriety ; but 
 don t ask me to play the hypocrite with Hogarth. I 
 cannot forget how he has treated me all these years, and 
 1 do not propose to forget it till he has atoned for it by 
 expressing his regret ; but I can t in cold blood act the 
 traitor." 
 
 " Do as you please ! do as you please ! Only don t, by 
 word or deed, interfere with me. Now, let s drop him 
 and his misdeeds, for I have something to tell you that 
 more intimately concerns you. 
 
 " 1 have made my will," he continued, " and 1 have 
 left everything I possess in the world to you." 
 
 " I hope I appreciate your goodness to me, Uncle 
 Victor," said Jack, much moved by this evidence of 
 regard, "but" 
 
234 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 " Yes, yes ; I know what you are going to say, but 
 it would be no use for you to ask me to give anything 
 to Hogarth. I ll never do it. But, Jack," and again 
 the look of cunning and shrewdness came over his face, 
 " if you should hear that I have made a new will and 
 left my estate to Hogarth, don t be surprised, and don t 
 believe it. You understand, don t you ?" 
 
 " Yes," answered Jack, " 1 think I do. You intend 
 to circulate such a report yourself, in order to deceive 
 Hogarth." 
 
 " Sharp boy ! sharp boy !" exclaimed Mr. Oldmixon, 
 rubbing his hands together. " 1 shall say nothing. 
 You can imagine what you please. But you re improv 
 ing, Jack. I should not wonder if, in a short time, you 
 get to be as sharp as your old uncle. Ha ! ha ! ha 1" 
 and Mr. Oldmixon laughed uproariously. 
 
 Jack muttered something about such a thing being 
 impossible. 
 
 " Now," resumed Mr. Oldmixon, " I took an inventory 
 of my estate yesterday, and 1 find that I am worth, at 
 present valuation, seven hundred and sixty-five thousand 
 dollars, besides an insurance on my life for twenty-five 
 thousand, which brings the total close up to eight hundred 
 thousand. It s not much of a pile, Jack, as piles go in 
 these days, but it s not a bad plum by any means. It 
 yields me an income of a little over forty thousand a year. 
 
 " Well, my boy, I was seventy-five last birthday, and, 
 in the ordinary course of nature, I can t hold out much 
 longer. 1 missed my chance for being hanged, 1 don t 
 intend to blow my brains out, I mean to take care that 
 Hogarth doesn t smother me, so that there is nothing 
 left but a natural death, and that may come now at any 
 moment." 
 
THE BASILISK AND THE WEASEL. 235 
 
 " A man with your good health and good habits," 
 said Jack, " may expect to live up to his expectancy, as 
 the insurance companies put it. You have a good long 
 lease of life before you yet. 
 
 " No, no, my boy !" observed Mr. Oldmixon, with a 
 melancholy shake of the head. " I m not in good 
 health. I don t go round complaining like most of 
 the old hacks you meet, but, in spite of my good looks, 
 I m standing on the brink of a volcano, and the least 
 false step may cause me to fall into the crater. A man 
 with a heart like mine is never safe. 
 
 " However," he went on, "I have something more 
 important than my death to talk about. Do you ever 
 think of getting married, Jack ?" 
 
 Jack blushed scarlet at this direct question. 
 
 " I see you have," said his uncle, who had been watch 
 ing him closely. " Your face speaks for you. Well, 
 my boy, it s nothing to be ashamed of. Every young 
 man ought to get married, and the sooner the better. 
 I ve done my duty in trying. Forty-three times, Jack, 
 have 1 made the attempt to get a wife, and here I am 
 nearly seventy-six years of age, and still an old bachelor." 
 
 " I can t think you have faced the matter with your 
 usual energy," said Jack, with a smile. 
 
 ""Well, well, perhaps not. 1 might have gone 
 farther and fared worse. Ha ! ha ! But to go on : 
 Thinking as I do about the advantages of matrimony to 
 a young man, you will not be surprised when I tell you 
 that I have made it a condition of your becoming my 
 heir that you shall marry within one year of my 
 decease. 
 
 " You may be putting me off for a long time, uncle," 
 said Jack, laughing. " Suppose you should live ten or 
 
236 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 twelve years yet as 1 hope and trust you may am I 
 to remain single during all that time ?" 
 
 " No, no ; you misunderstand me ; you can marry 
 as soon before my death as you please a year after 
 that event is the extreme limit. But the matter would 
 not make much practical difference. 1 shall not live 
 over a year at the outside. I am glad that you approve 
 of the condition, for you take a load off my mind. 
 There s only one thing more." 
 
 " "What s that, uncle?" 
 
 " It s a delicate subject, Jack, I admit, but it s one in 
 which my whole soul is interested. 1 have recently 
 become acquainted with a lovely girl, gentle, intelligent, 
 respectable. I want her for my daughter, and I want 
 you to help me by making her your wife. 
 
 " I m afraid 1 can t oblige you in that matter," said 
 Jack, with decision and frankness, " for I have recently 
 become attached to a lady whom I intend soon to ask 
 to become my wife." 
 
 " Give her up, Jack, or at least don t deny my re 
 quest till you have made the acquaintance of the lady I 
 refer to." 
 
 " It would be quite useless forme to become acquaint 
 ed with the lady you have in your mind," said Jack, 
 emphatically, " for I shall never renounce the one I 
 love till she tells me that there is no hope for me." 
 
 " O Jack, Jack ! is the chief object of rny life to be 
 defeated through your obstinacy ?" 
 
 " If the chief object of your life is to marry me to a 
 woman I do not know and have never even to my 
 knowledge seen, I am quite sure that it will never be 
 realized." 
 
 " I counted on you, Jack, so fondly," said Mr. Old- 
 
THE BASILISK AND THE WEASEL. 237 
 
 mixon, mournfully. " You have made me very unhappy, 
 my boy. Still, I do not despair yet of bringing you to 
 my views. You will not refuse to meet the lady, I 
 suppose ?" 
 
 " JSTo, Uncle Victor ; I will refuse to meet no one that 
 you desire me to know. It would be a deception, how 
 ever, if I were to let you think that meeting this lady 
 will incline me to accept your proposition, that I shall 
 marry her." 
 
 " Are you really very much in love, Jack ?" 
 
 " Yes, uncle, I think I am." 
 
 " Is the lady beautiful?" 
 
 " She is to me the loveliest woman I have ever beheld. 
 She has one of those speaking faces that send an 
 impression into your heart that stays there forever. 
 
 " Have you known her long ?" 
 
 "Not very long ; long enough, however, to be very 
 much in love with her, and to paint her portrait." 
 
 " Oh, you ve painted her portrait ! 1 don t think it s 
 exactly the thing for a painter to fall in love with a 
 woman who comes to him to have her portrait taken." 
 
 " But I didn t, and she didn t. I mean, 1 didn t fall 
 in love with her because I painted her portrait, but I 
 painted her portrait because I fell in love with her." 
 
 " Oh, that was the way of it !" 
 
 " Yes, that s the way it was." 
 
 " I should like to see this wonderful woman." 
 
 " I will show you her portrait first, and then you can 
 judge whether or not it will be worth while for you to 
 see her. May I ask," he inquired, " who the lady is that 
 you have done me the honor of selecting to be my wife ?" 
 
 " What is the good of your knowing anything about 
 her ? Didn t you just tell me it would be no use for you 
 
238 MR. OLDMIXOX. 
 
 to make her acquaintance, for that you could not give up 
 your present attachment ?" 
 
 " Yes, uncle ; on that account it would be useless ; but 
 for your sake, as I just said, I am willing to make her 
 acquaintance. 
 
 " I don t see what good could come of talking about 
 her under the present circumstances. Her name is not 
 one that you have probably ever heard. She is not in 
 your station of life, as the saying is, though, so far as 
 I can see, she s as good as any one. So, if 1 were to tell 
 you her name before you see her, it would very likely 
 prejudice you against her. " 
 
 " I should not object on the score of what is called 
 social position, if she were desirable as a wife in every 
 other way. Shall 1 tell you who the lady is that 1 wish 
 to marry ?" 
 
 " What s the use, Jack? I should only feel more 
 uncomfortable about the matter. But, my dear boy, 
 do you distinctly understand that your becoming my 
 heir is contingent on your marriage to the lady I have 
 selected within one year from the date of my decease, 
 if not before my death ?" 
 
 " Yes, uncle ; but I should think very meanly of my 
 self if 1 could be influenced by such a consideration, 
 and I should think equally meanly of you if you thought 
 I could be so influenced." 
 
 Jack s blood was up at last. He had been indisposed 
 to resent, more than by a positive refusal, his uncle s 
 scheme to marry him to a woman that he did not know ; 
 but now that the matter was put so clearly and signifi 
 cantly before him, he intended that there should be no 
 doubt as to where he stood and what he meant to do ; 
 so he added : 
 
THE BASILISK AND THE WEASEL. 239 
 
 " And if my position as your heir depends upon my 
 acceptance of a wife of your choosing, I desire you to 
 omit my name from your will, for my mind is quite 
 made up on the matter; and even if it were not," he 
 continued, warming with his subject, " 1 should make 
 my own selection, regardless of all the heirships in the 
 universe." 
 
 " By heavens ! my boy, I like you for that !" ex 
 claimed Mr. Oldmixon. " Even if you do disappoint me, 
 and you do not become my heir, let us be friends, Jack, " 
 holding out his hand, which his nephew cordially grasped. 
 " I shall not change my will. If you comply with the 
 conditions, you will get the estate ; if you do not, it will 
 go to her. Perhaps, after all, you may change your 
 mind." 
 
 Jack smiled incredulously, but said nothing. 
 
 The utterance of a single word a word that each 
 wished to speak would have destroyed the misunder 
 standing existing between these two. It is not the only 
 instance within my experience in which two persons 
 have earnestly desired the same thing, and yet each 
 thought the other desired a different thing, and in which 
 one word, spoken by either, would have led to a perfect 
 understanding and the avoidance of an infinitude of 
 sorrow. 
 
CHAPTEE XVI. 
 
 (: I COULD NEVER MARRY HIM, FATHER." 
 
 THE little farm that Mr. Ilenscliel had purchased had 
 a frontage of something like a quarter of a mile on Long 
 Island Sound, and ran back about half a mile to the rail 
 way between New York and New Raven. 
 
 The house was placed on an elevation a few hundred 
 yards from the water, a fine and what had once been a 
 well-kept lawn, with a turf of over a hundred years, 
 extending down to a sea-wall that bounded the entire 
 water-front. It had at one time formed part of a large 
 tract owned by the De Villon family, Huguenots, who 
 were part of a large party who, in the troublous times 
 at the period of the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, 
 had fled from France to find a refuge on this side of the 
 Atlantic Ocean. 
 
 The house occupied the exact spot upon which the 
 original De Villon had built his residence. This latter, 
 after standing in good condition for over a hundred 
 years, was torn down by Colonel Guy de Villon some 
 fifty years before Mr. Henschel appeared upon the 
 premises, and a well-appointed stone structure, that 
 looked as though it would stand till the end of time, 
 had been erected on the foundations. 
 
 It was ascertained that these could not be improved, 
 they being far more solid than such as are made in our 
 day, so they were utilized as far as possible. 
 
"l COULD NEVER MARRY HIM, FATHER." 241 
 
 The walls of the new house, therefore, stood on the old 
 stone work, except that at each end Colonel Guy de Yil- 
 lon had added a wing, thereby very considerably increas 
 ing the capacity of the new building over that of the 
 original structure. 
 
 For several years the house had been uninhabited. 
 The De Yillons had left it many years ago to reside in 
 New York, and then tenant after tenant had occupied it, 
 each for only a short time, for there were ugly stories 
 afloat relative to its unhealthfulness. It was said, among 
 other things, that no family had ever lived in it a year 
 without one or more of its members dying, and that 
 sickness had begun almost immediately after occupancy. 
 
 As an explanation of this bad sanitary condition, it 
 was alleged that the first De Yillons had used the cellar 
 as a mortuary vault, and that several dead bodies had 
 been buried there. Another, and perhaps a still more 
 powerful reason why the house had remained for nearly 
 thirty years without an occupant was the belief, gener 
 ally prevalent in the neighborhood, that it was haunted. 
 Nothing so effectually conduces to the depreciation of 
 the value of real estate as a well-authenticated story of 
 this kind, and the story of the supernatural doinga in 
 the De Yillon mansion rested upon testimony as strong 
 as any that had ever before been offered in support 
 of a like allegation. Not only had mysterious sounds 
 been heard, but mysterious objects had been seen, felt, 
 and smelt. Thus there had been moans, knocks, and, 
 most wonderful of all, a bugle blast, or what sounded 
 like it, coming apparently from the cellar precisely as the 
 clock struck twelve. 
 
 Pale and dishevelled women had been seen by the 
 passers-by flitting from window to window, clasping 
 11 
 
242 ME. OLDMIXOltf. 
 
 their hands as though in an agony of grief, and tearing 
 their hair in the intensity of their sufferings. Similar 
 figures had been seen by the occupants walking in the 
 long halls and passages, or sitting sometimes in front of 
 the fire. 
 
 They had been felt, for young Tompkins, whose 
 father had, many years ago, declared that he was not 
 afraid, and that he and his family would live in the 
 house, had, on returning late at night from a convivial 
 party at New Kochelle, been seized by one of these 
 dishevelled women and led by the wrist down into the 
 cellar, where he was found the next morning more dead 
 than alive, and fully convinced that the house was 
 haunted. Nothing, he declared, would induce him to 
 pass another night under its roof, and shortly afterward, 
 other signs being produced, Mr. Tompkins and his family 
 had moved out. And they had been smelt ; or, at least, 
 odors more or less resembling those that are popularly 
 supposed to be.indicative of the proximity of supernatural 
 beings, inasmuch as they were sulphurous and phosphor 
 ous in character, had been wafted through the house in 
 a way that defied explanation. As there was no other 
 apparent source of these awful smells, the conclusion 
 was inevitable that they were due to the presence of beings 
 that had not yet entirely gotten rid of their corporeality. 
 
 All the senses sight, hearing, touch, and smell ex 
 cept that of taste appeared to unite in supplying evidence 
 of the existence of ghostly dwellers in the De Villon 
 manor house. The fact that this one sense furnished 
 no testimony ought not, of course, to have militated in 
 the slightest degree against the prevalent belief, for how 
 in the world can a ghost be tasted ? People don t run 
 round, even when they are scared, and it is midnight, 
 
"I COULD NEVEE MAERY HIM, FATHEE." 243 
 
 with their tongues lolling out of their mouths, searching 
 for ghosts ; and no being of the kind has ever been 
 known to jump down a person s throat, no matter how 
 wide open the jaws may have been. 
 
 There is evidence tending to show that demoniacal 
 personages of various degrees of eminence in the infer 
 nal hierarchy have entered the human body by the 
 mouth, and have, under the influence of the forms for 
 exorcism prescribed by the Church, departed through 
 the same channel ; but even if the possessed had been 
 in a frame of mind to exercise the sense of taste, I 
 respectfully submit that devils are not ghosts. Yes, 
 it will have to be admitted without further question 
 that no one has ever tasted a ghost that is, the spirit of 
 a person once a dweller on earth. 
 
 The matter, however, was not discussed in any degree 
 of captiousness by the citizens of Westchester County, 
 in the State of New York, whose destiny had made 
 them neighbors of the De Yillon property, for nearly 
 every one admitted that the stories told of the old house 
 were true. In fact, there was but one sceptic, and he 
 was a physician, who not only did not credit the tales 
 of the ghostly dwellers of the De Yillon mansion, but 
 was generally thought not to believe in anything. 
 
 It was in vain, however, that old Dr. Maddox 
 denounced the faithful believers with all the vigor of 
 which he was capable and in language scarcely fitted for 
 ears polite. 
 
 It was in vain that he declared that there were no 
 dead bodies buried in the cellar ; that the deaths that 
 had occurred were due to bad drainage ; that the diaboli 
 cal smells had the same origin, and that Dick Tompkins 
 was as drunk as a fool when he had come home that 
 
244 MR. OLDMIXOIT. 
 
 night and imagined that a ghost had led him into the 
 cellar. 
 
 It was in vain that he declared that the pale and di 
 shevelled women seen at the windows were some old 
 muslin curtains that had been left there, and that all 
 the rest was imagination, controlled by fear. 
 
 Whenever have statements such as these made by 
 unbelievers had any influence in convincing those whose 
 minds are governed by faith, not fact ? Never, so far 
 as I know. 
 
 So the reputation of the De Yillon manor house re 
 mained unchanged, very much to the disgust of the 
 representative of the family and present owner, who 
 could neither rent nor sell it. 
 
 But the bad name did not extend to the whole prop 
 erty, comprising at one time more than three thousand 
 acres. 
 
 Little by little this had been disposed of, till now 
 nothing remained but the house and about sixty acres 
 around it. This it was that Mr. Ilenschel had bought. 
 
 Originally he had contemplated purchasing a smaller 
 piece of ground, with a much more humble house, but 
 Dr. Maddox had called his attention to the De Villon 
 property, that could be had for a mere song, and that 
 only required the expenditure of a few hundred dollars 
 on "the drainage to make it as healthy a residence as any 
 on the Sound. As for the ghosts, he knew his old 
 friend Henschel was not such an ass as to believe ill 
 them. 
 
 " You can get it," said the doctor, " for ten thousand 
 dollars you can sell it in five years for sixty thousand 
 or more. I would have bought it long ago myself but 
 for the facts that I am an old bachelor with no one to 
 
"I COULD NEVER MARRY HIM, FATHER." 245 
 
 leave it to when I die, and that I have as much now, 
 in the way of wealth, as I want." 
 
 The consequence was, that Mr. Henschel and Barbara 
 had made a visit to the place, and after a thorough exam 
 ination, in company with Dr. Maddox, had bought it of 
 the agent for the sum of nine thousand dollars, Mr. Hen 
 schel offering eight, and the agent finally lowering his 
 price to nine, or, as he said, " splitting the difference." 
 
 " That thousand dollars," remarked Mr. Henschel to 
 Barbara, as they drove to the railway station on their 
 way back to down, " will about pay for the new drainage 
 the house wants. What do you think of it, Bab ?" 
 
 " I think we shall be very happy there, father. It s 
 a fine old house, but very large for us two." 
 
 " Yes, it s large ; but there s never any harm in look 
 ing ahead. You ll marry some day or other, perhaps, 
 and I shall only allow you to do so on condition that 
 you don t leave me." 
 
 " O father, how can you think of such a thing !" 
 
 " How can I think of it, my dear ? Didn t 1 have 
 to make constant efforts not to think of it when that 
 young professor was down here from Cornell, and was 
 making excuses for coming every day to see you ? 
 
 " But I couldn t have married him, father, because, 
 because " 
 
 " Yes, 1 know, you sent him off. I suppose you 
 didn t care for him, but he would "have been a good 
 match for you. Still, as things go " 
 
 " Kot if I didn t love him, father ?" 
 
 " Oh, no, of course not ; but I would have been well 
 pleased if you could have loved him, my dear." 
 
 " It was impossible ; I don t think I shall ever care 
 enough for any man to marry him. " 
 
246 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 She spoke these last words as though they were a 
 thought expressed aloud, and not intended for any one 
 to hear. 
 
 If Mr. Ilenschel heard them, he took no notice of 
 them. 
 
 " Then, there s Peter," resumed Mr. Henschel. 
 
 " Yes," she answered, with a little laugh, "there s 
 Peter ; but he is uneducated ; you surely would not like 
 me to marry Peter ?" 
 
 " No, no, my dear, I did not say I would ; I only 
 mentioned his name as one of those you could have, by 
 simply giving him a chance to ask you. But there s 
 still another, Mr. Oldmixon." 
 
 " The old gentleman !" exclaimed Barbara, laughing 
 again, but this time more than before, and coloring a 
 little. I haven t seen him since the day he told me of 
 his troubles ; I shall probably never see him again, and 
 he s seventy-five years old." 
 
 u Ah ! but, my dear, I didn t mean the old gentle 
 man, as I suspect you know very well. I meant the 
 young one, who s painting our portraits and workshop. 
 How about him, Bab ?" 
 
 " Nothing is so entirely out of the question as my 
 marrying him," answered Barbara, very gravely. Mr. 
 Oldmixon is pleasant enough to talk to, but he is not 
 the man I could marry, even if I were the woman he 
 would care to marry. " 
 
 " I am sure he cares for you, my dear; 1 haven t 
 readied my age without learning the value of glances 
 and smiles and words and actions. He s been coming 
 now every day for the last week. When will he finish ? 
 
 " Probably to-morrow ; but if he cares for me in the 
 way you think, 1 shall let him understand that it is no 
 
"l COULD NEVEE MAEEY HIM, FATHEE." 247 
 
 use. I like him as a friend, but I couldn t marry him 
 if lie was the only man in the world. " 
 
 " Why not, my dear ? He s handsome, correct in 
 his conduct that I can see, too making a name for 
 himself very rapidly, able to take care of you, and if he 
 should love you, what more could you ask ?" 
 
 " I could never marry him, father ; it is impossible. 
 We cannot probably always tell ourselves why we 
 arrive at certain conclusions relative to persons of our 
 acquaintance ; why we like some and dislike others, and 
 so on. You know, father, I talk to you very frankly ; I 
 suppose if I had a mother 1 should speak to her as I 
 speak to you. 1 see that you would be pleased to have 
 me married to Mr. John Oldmixon. It can never be ! 
 Never ! I like him very much ; I take pleasure in his 
 society I would not wish to be cut off from it but that 
 is all ; as to marrying him, it is out of the range of 
 possibility. Besides, I am very sure he has never 
 thought of me in that way. 
 
 " Well, well, perhaps I am mistaken. Shall 1 ask 
 him to visit us at our new house ?" 
 
 "If he shows that he would like to come I see no 
 
 reason why you should not. You like him, I like him. 
 
 One is not bound to marry any gentleman that one likes." 
 
 So, as the reader knows, the invitation had been 
 
 given and accepted. 
 
 It took a couple of weeks to put the old house in such 
 a sanitary condition as to make it safe for the Henschels 
 to move into it. It was in good repair in every other 
 respect, except that here and there a pane of glass w r as 
 broken and the plaster needed mending, and then, of 
 course, it was entirely without furniture. 
 
 They decided not to do more at present than to 
 
248 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 furnish the main building, and indeed there was more of 
 this than they had need for, there being four large 
 rooms on each of the two floors. But, as Mr. Ilenschel 
 said, he was not going to confine himself and his daughter 
 to quarters as narrow as those they had occupied for so 
 many years in New York. Peter had agreed with his 
 capitalist, and Mr. Ilenschel had received his own price 
 for the stand and the business, so that he was that much 
 better off, in the way of ready money, than he had been 
 before. There was no need for them to stint themselves, 
 lie was not what is called rich, but he had enough to 
 make him and his daughter comfortable, without the 
 necessity for either of them turning their hands to any 
 labor for the purpose of getting money by it. 
 
 So the house was well furnished, arid many little 
 luxuries of a kind that they had never been accustomed 
 to were added, in the expectation that it would be ren 
 dered still more attractive, as they were made happier, 
 by experiencing the sense of possession and by the con 
 templation of objects that were in themselves beautiful. 
 " It s only an investment," Mr. Ilenschel said, when 
 talking with Barbara about some Eussian, French, and 
 American bronzes he had purchased for the new home, 
 and which had cost a considerable sum of money. 
 
 " They re not only beautiful to look at, but they ll 
 serve you for study, my dear, now that you are going to 
 become a sculptor. For a little while, that is," he 
 added. " I had a conversation with Mr. Maurice yester 
 day, and he said all you wanted from him was a knowl 
 edge of how to use the tools and the material, and that 
 you would learn that in a very short time. You ll teach 
 them all after a while." 
 
 "Ah ! father," she answered, "that remains to be 
 
"I COULD NEVEE MAEEY HIM, FATHEE." 249 
 
 seen. "When do 1 take my first lesson from Mr. Mau 
 rice ?" 
 
 " Well, I think we had better get fairly settled in the 
 new house first. I suppose that will take a couple of 
 weeks yet ; then you can take the south-west room on 
 the second story the one just behind your bedroom 
 and fit it up as a studio. You can have that side of the 
 second floor, and I ll take the other side. I think I d 
 like to practice a little taxidermy now and then, just to 
 keep my hand in. By the by, Bab, you haven t given 
 the place a name yet. 
 
 " Am I expected to name it, father ?" 
 
 " Of course ; I always intended that." 
 
 " Then I ll call it Lasata. " 
 
 " And what in the world may be the meaning of 
 Lasata ?" 
 
 " It s a name I heard on the Plains. An Indian 
 woman used it in speaking to me, and the interpreter 
 explained to me that it meant the place where you 
 rest after hard work. 
 
 " Admirable, my dear, from one point of view, but 
 there will not be much rest for you, I m afraid. People 
 with your mental organization never rest till the grave 
 closes over them. They change the form of their work, 
 but that is all ; however, Lasata it shall be." 
 
 So they left the house in New York and took posses 
 sion of the one they had agreed to call Lasata. The 
 sign remained over the old shop, but above it appeared 
 another, with smaller letters, bearing the inscription, 
 " Dibble & Swain, Taxidermists, Successors to." 
 
 Nothing had been seen of Jack since he had finished 
 his picture. Every morning Barbara went in to Mr. 
 Maurice s studio and took her lesson in modelling and 
 11* 
 
250 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 in the use of the chisel. This gentleman had for many 
 years been a friend of her father s. He was nearly, if not 
 quite, as old as Mr. Henschel, but for all that he was 
 capable of doing good work, and had recently executed 
 a symbolical statue of " Argenta," in solid silver, for a 
 wealthy citizen of one of the mining States, that had been 
 highly praised in art circles. As a teacher he was un 
 equalled. He not only took infinite pains with his 
 pupils, but he seemed to have the power of imbuing all 
 those possessed of any degree of receptivity with a por 
 tion of his own genius. In Barbara he evinced from the 
 very beginning a great interest. She had all the art- 
 instinct that he liked to see in his pupils. And indeed, 
 as he had told her father, there was not much for him 
 to do beyond teaching her the technique of the arts of 
 modelling and sculpture. 
 
 By eight o clock every morning, except Sunday, 
 Barbara was at Mr. Maurice s studio, and here she 
 remained till four o clock, when she took the train for 
 Mamaroneck, the more convenient station to Lasata, 
 though New Rochelle was nearer. Here her father 
 always met her in the little one-horse chaise that held 
 two, and which he drove himself, while Barbara sat by 
 his side. Usually before going home they took a little 
 drive up the road that ran along the Sound, for a mile 
 or two, and then turning off to the west brought them 
 into a thickly wooded and semi-mountainous district, 
 which was now rather barren of verdure, though it 
 was well stocked with evergreens, but which in the 
 spring, the summer, and the early autumn there was 
 every indication was as beautiful a region as one would 
 wish to see. It was generally quite dark when they got 
 home, for the winter was now upon them ; but the cool, 
 
"I COULD NEVER MARRY HIM, FATHER." 251 
 
 bracing evening air was a luxury that they did not care 
 to forego ; and then Mr. Henschel could not easily have 
 dispensed with the pleasure he received at hearing Bar 
 bara s recital of her doings during her stay in the city. 
 What she was working at, what Mr. Maurice had talked 
 about, what she was likely to undertake next, and other 
 like matters were subjects about which he was never 
 weary of conversing. Then when they got home they 
 had dinner, and after that, while her father smoked his 
 pipe, in the room that they had fitted up as a library, 
 Barbara read sometimes aloud, or they talked, or she 
 played backgammon of which he was very fond with 
 him, till it was time to go to bed. There was very little 
 opportunity, therefore, for her to engage in any work of 
 her own in her studio. Occasionally, when she did not 
 feel tired, she would do a little at modelling in clay before 
 she went to bed, and in very bad weather, when she did 
 not go to town, she had a good long time to give to it. 
 
 They had been at Lasata somewhat over a week, and 
 yet nothing had been heard of young Mr. Oldmixon, as 
 they called him, till one morning, on arriving at the 
 studio, she found a note for her from Jack, which Mr. 
 Maurice told her had been left by the gentleman in 
 person, just after she had departed on the previous day. 
 It read : 
 
 " DEAR Miss HENSCHEL : I have been very much en 
 gaged in looking after my uncle, who has not been well 
 for several days, and besides that I have been out of town 
 with him, and was detained nearly a week by his ill 
 ness. I only got back yesterday, to find that you had 
 gone away from the old place. Mr. Swain was kind 
 enough to tell me that I would find you at Mr. Mau- 
 
252 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 rice s studio every day till four o clock. I write this 
 to leave, in case you liave gone before I arrive, as I rnay 
 possibly be a few minutes late. 
 
 * I have not forgotten that 1 am under promise to tell 
 you how I caught the silver fox. If you have still any 
 interest in hearing the wonderful story, let me know 
 what evening I shall come out to your new home and 
 tell it to you. Also at the same time inform me how 1 
 am to get there, and at what hour I can get back. 
 
 * With my regards to your father, believe me, dear 
 Miss Ilenscliel, Yours sincerely, 
 
 " JOHN OLDMIXON. 
 
 " P. S. I gave Archer, who stands in the very front 
 rank of American painters, and who took a gold medal 
 at the Paris Salon last year, a peep at the Taxidermists. 
 He looked at it for fifteen minutes, then he turned 
 round, grasped my hand, and said, Oldmixon, I would 
 rather have painted that picture than anything I have 
 ever done. As to what he said about the portraits, I 
 shall have to keep that till I come to tell you how I 
 caught the silver fox. J. O." 
 
 Barbara was glad to hear from Jack. She had won 
 dered for several days what had become of him, and she 
 had been disappointed that he had not called or sent a 
 message of any kind. Had her acquaintance with him been 
 of the ordinary description, she would not have troubled 
 herself to think of him ; but she recognized the fact that 
 it was something more than that. She had helped 
 although he probably knew nothing of the circumstance 
 to make him his uncle s heir, and their association, 
 while he was painting his picture, had been of so inti 
 mate a character that she had learned a good deal about 
 
"I COULD KEVEE MAEEY HIM, FATHEE." 253 
 
 his disposition, his ways, his strong and weak points, 
 his acquirements, that had tended to make her regard 
 him as something more than a mere acquaintance. She 
 liked him, but she had never once thought of him as 
 a possible lover. She knew he was to be rich, and she 
 had formed the idea that he did not know this fact, and 
 that of itself would have operated as a bar to the 
 development of any stronger feeling in her heart than 
 that of friendship. It would have seemed to her as 
 though she were taking an unfair advantage of him. 
 No, she had never thought of him as a possible lover, 
 but she had thought of him as an impossible one, and 
 she had done so with regret and with the wish in her 
 heart that matters had been so ordered that she could 
 feel herself free to encourage Jack in making the demon 
 strations of affection that she knew would come at the 
 slightest sign from her that they would be agreeable to 
 her. 
 
 She had made up her mind that it would be very 
 difficult, if not impossible, for her to maintain the course 
 that she had resolved to pursue, unless she was cut off 
 altogether from Jack s companionship. She had joined 
 in the invitation that her father had given, but she had 
 done so out of politeness and from that desire, inherent 
 in her, never to say or do anything calculated to wound 
 the feelings of her friends. She had really, however, 
 at the time scarcely supposed that she would see much 
 of Mr. Jack Oldmixon, and she doubted if he would even 
 take the trouble to renew the acquaintance. Then she 
 had felt that it was strange when, after several days, 
 she heard nothing of him, that he had not called or 
 made some effort to find her ; and then she began to- 
 think that he had not acted altogether well, and that 
 
254 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 something, if only courtesy, was due to herself and her 
 father. 
 
 This letter was at once an enlightenment and a solace to 
 her. It explained his absence, and it relieved her mind 
 of all her half -formed apprehensions that she and her 
 father, having served his purpose for his picture, were 
 no longer of sufficient importance to him to cause him to 
 put himself to the trouble of making them a visit. Her 
 mind was busy all through her work that day with 
 reflections excited by this letter, and she read it over 
 two or three times, in order to be quite sure that she had 
 mastered all the meanings it was intended to convey. 
 It was a very frank and clearly written letter, and she 
 eventually arrived at the conclusion that there was no 
 occult significance in its lines. Evidently the writer 
 desired to renew the acquaintance, evidently he liked her, 
 and evidently if he once began coming to Lasata he 
 would continue to come, so long as he was permitted to 
 do so and things were made pleasant to him. "Well, 
 she would not answer him till she had shown his letter 
 to her father. 
 
 The old man was at the station, waiting for her as 
 usual, and as usual they took their little drive before 
 proceeding home. She said nothing to him then about 
 what was on her mind, as she thought it would be 
 better to wait till after dinner, and he could, with his 
 pipe in his mouth, give his undivided attention to a 
 matter that struck her as being one of great importance. 
 Then, when that time arrived, she opened the subject in 
 the direct way that was a characteristic of her method 
 of dealing with all things, both great and small. 
 
CHAPTER XYIL 
 
 " WELCOME TO LAS ATA !" 
 
 "I VE had a letter from Mr. John Oldmixon," said 
 Barbara, while her father was lighting his pipe prepara 
 tory to sitting down to his evening newspaper. 
 
 " Have you, Bab ? I ve been wondering what had be 
 come of him. 
 
 " He s been out of town, and his uncle has been ill ; 
 but here s his letter. I wouldn t answer it before let 
 ting you read it, and deciding for me what kind of a re 
 ply to make. 
 
 Mr. Henschel s interest was at once excited. He 
 thought the communication was a proposal of marriage, 
 as almost any one else in his situation and with his knowl 
 edge of the circumstances would also have thought, and 
 he instantly resolved that if this were the case he would 
 advise his daughter to accept the hand tendered her. 
 He was a practical man, not indisposed, however, to un 
 derestimate the advantages of a marriage in which there 
 was love on both sides, but, at the same time, fully 
 aware of the temporal benefits likely to occur to his 
 daughter by a marriage with so eligible a parti as was 
 Mr. John Oldmixon. He took the letter and read it ; 
 and though there was a little disappointment at the fact 
 that his expectations were not realized, he was, neverthe 
 less, well satisfied with it as an entering wedge to the con 
 clusion he so greatly desired. 
 
256 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 " It s a nice letter, Bab," lie said, handing it back to 
 her and relighting his pipe his engagement with the 
 letter having interfered with the combustion -process 
 necessary to the usefulness of this important source of 
 comfort "and such a one as a gentleman should write. 
 Not too effusive and not too formal. You haven t an 
 swered it, I think you said ?" 
 
 " No, father ; I didn t know exactly what to say. You 
 know he can t very well come up here in the evening 
 and go home that night. To do so would only give him 
 about a half hour at the house." 
 
 " And you d like to have him longer, eh, Bab ?" said 
 Mr. Ilenschel, with a knowing laugh. 
 
 " I didn t say that, father," answered Barbara, with a 
 slight, very slight blush. " I was only thinking that it 
 would scarcely be worth his while to come here and then 
 have to hurry to avoid missing the train. Conversation 
 under such circumstances can never be satisfactory." 
 
 "True, true," said the old man, musingly. " Then 
 you had better invite him to stay all night. 
 
 " But we ve no place to put him, father, and and," 
 she added, hesitatingly, tl wouldn t it be going too far on 
 our slight acquaintance with Mr. Oldmixon to ask him 
 to pass a night in our house ?" 
 
 " I don t know exactly how that would be, my dear. 
 It won t do for us to be too forward with our invitations 
 to men who, like Mr. John Oldmixon, may think they 
 are better than we are, and " 
 
 "O father!" interrupted Barbara, alarmed at the 
 conclusion he had reached, and eager to defend Jack from 
 what she felt was an unjust imputation, "1 didn t 
 mean that. I m quite sure Mr. Oldmixon has never had 
 any such notion." 
 
" WELCOME TO LASATA !" 257 
 
 " Probably not, my dear. I didn t say he Lad, but we 
 can t be too much on our guard. We are proud people, 
 Bab. Our family does not rank with the great ones 
 either in Denmark or here, but we ve always done our duty 
 in the stations to which we have been called, and if we 
 choose I doubt not could take our place among the 
 aristocracy in this country. "We re respectable, and 
 we re rich that is, rich enough," checking himself, 
 " and that s the thing that tells. 
 
 " But to go back to Mr. John Oldmixon," he con 
 tinued, after a little pause, during which he puffed stren 
 uously at his pipe, in the expectation apparently that the 
 more tobacco- smoke he got into his air-passages the 
 quicker he would reach a satisfactory conclusion on the 
 question under consideration " to go back to him, I don t 
 think we shall run any risk of being repulsed by meeting 
 him half way. Therefore, write to him, my dear, and in 
 vite him to come up on any evening that suits him and 
 to stay all night. Perhaps you had better give the invi 
 tation in my name. 
 
 " But we ve no place to put him, father. You have 
 the two north rooms, and I have the two south 
 rooms." 
 
 Why not fit up the room behind this as a bedroom ? 
 We want a spare room, for we must expect to have a 
 guest with us occasionally. Yes, write, and I ll go to 
 town to-morrow and get furniture for the room. This 
 is Wednesday well, Bab, what do you say to asking him 
 to come on Saturday afternoon and to stay over through 
 Sunday till Monday morning ? Would that be having 
 too much of him ? 
 
 Barbara laughed. " If you ll promise to do the most 
 of the entertaining, I have no objection," she answered. 
 
258 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 " I think, however, that he will not be able to leave his 
 uncle for so long a time." 
 
 " Well, he must be the judge of that. So write your 
 letter, so that you can mail it in the city to-morrow. 
 He ll get it sooner than if you send it from here." 
 
 Barbara seated herself at the table, and in a few min 
 utes handed her father the letter she had written. 
 
 " DEAR MR. OLDMIXON : You are very kind to write 
 and remind me of your promise to tell me how you caught 
 the silver fox. We shall be glad to see you, and father 
 bids me say that he will be very glad if you will come up 
 in the 4 P.M. train on Saturday and stay over till Monday 
 morning. 
 
 4i We are both sorry to hear of your uncle s illness, and 
 hope it is nothing serious. 
 
 " Hoping to see you Saturday evening, and informing 
 you that you will have the opportunity of escorting me if 
 you come in the 4 P.M. train, 1 am 
 
 " Yours sincerely, 
 
 " BARBARA HENSCHEL. 
 
 " That will do," said Mr. Ilenschel, as having finished 
 reading the letter he handed it back to Barbara. " He ll 
 be sure to come in the four-o clock train," he added, 
 laughing. "I ll send Ben down with the carriage, and 
 you can drive him over while I stay at home to receive 
 the guest. "Will that suit you ?" 
 
 " Any way of yours will suit me, father," said Barbara, 
 who felt in unusually good spirits. " Now, shall 1 beat 
 you at backgammon ?" 
 
 They sat down to play, and they played many games, 
 but she did not beat him. On the contrary, she got but 
 
"WELCOME TO LAS ATA !" 259 
 
 two or three games out of a dozen or more, and those she 
 won rather by persistent good luck than by good manage 
 ment. In fact, her mind was not on the work before her. 
 She was thinking of the visit that was to be made to them 
 the following Saturday, and of what she should do toward 
 making the time pass pleasantly for the visitor. It was 
 rather too cold to go out on the water, even if the sun 
 should have the best sort of an opportunity for sending 
 down his rays to the earth, and the probability was that, 
 like most December days, Sunday would be bleak. She 
 might drive him around the country, or, better still, might 
 walk with him, for then her father could go along, and 
 she would not be under the necessity of being alone with 
 him. She dreaded this latter contingency. She was 
 afraid for herself afraid that she would become more 
 deeply interested in him than would be conducive to her 
 happiness, for she had fully resolved that nothing should 
 persuade her to marry Mr. John Oldmixon ; and to love 
 a man that she could not marry would be misery to her. 
 
 And then this must be his last visit, as it would be 
 his first. On that point her mind was clear ; but she was 
 aware that it was one that she would have to argue with 
 her father, and that to gain it she would be obliged to 
 enter at length into her reasons. 
 
 Mr. Henschel never attempted to set himself in oppo 
 sition to her fully matured and deliberately expressed 
 opinions ; but as he was a reasonable human being, and 
 one that specially prided himself on the logical manner 
 in which he exercised his intellectual faculties, it would 
 not do for her to simply say, " 1 prefer not to have Mr. 
 John Oldmixon come here again." She must be able to 
 give reasons for such a dogmatic utterance, and as she 
 was a sensible woman, and one not prone to act from 
 
260 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 whim or caprice, it was in the highest degree probable 
 that her father, even if not convinced of the validity of 
 her arguments, would allow her to have her own way in 
 a matter that concerned no one so much as it did herself. 
 
 She had no very strong reasons for believing that Jack 
 loved her, but she had a dim suspicion that he did. She 
 too, like her father, had observed looks and tones and 
 manner, all of which went to show that the young man s 
 feelings were deeply involved. Then had come this 
 letter, and that had tended to strengthen the misgiving 
 into almost a belief, else why should he seek her out 
 when there had been such an excellent opportunity for 
 him to pass out of the current of her life altogether ? 
 
 She finished her games of backgammon, and Mr. Ilen- 
 schel, who was delighted as all old people are when they 
 win games that they play merely for amusement with 
 his success, and who had not noticed the fact that Bar 
 bara s thoughts were not on her play, attributed the result 
 to his own skill and knowledge. 
 
 " You don t play backgammon as well as you mount 
 animals, Bab," he said, laughing, as they stood together in 
 front of the fire before going up-stairs, u and probably 
 not so well as you model. And as to modelling, didn t 
 you tell me a few days ago that you were about to begin 
 a new subject ? What is it ?" 
 
 " It s an animal, father. How the wind blows to-night ! 
 I hope it is not storming on the Sound. I saw the steam 
 ers go by awhile ago, one after the other, the big Fall 
 River boat leading, and then the New London and the 
 Stonington boats following, with several smaller ones at 
 respectful distances." 
 
 "No, 1 don t think it is blowing very hard on the 
 Sound. I ll go out and look around a moment, and 
 
" WELCOME TO LASATA !" 261 
 
 you ll feel easier if I come back and tell you there s no 
 danger of wrecks to-night." 
 
 She looked worried. She did not feel apprehensive 
 about a storm on the Sound ; she had only been trying to 
 direct her father s attention from the subject she was 
 modelling ; and she had succeeded so thoroughly that he 
 was going out into the cold night air in order to be able to 
 assure her that there was no rough weather, and thus to 
 enable her to sleep with a mind free from apprehension. 
 This was more than she had bargained for, and more than 
 she could honestly accept. 
 
 "JSTo, father dear," she said, laying her hand on his 
 arm and looking pleadingly into his face, " don t go out ; 
 it s cold too cold for you to expose yourself. I ll tell 
 you what I am modelling. It s the silver fox, and I m 
 doing it altogether from memory, for Mr. Oldmixon has 
 the specimen I mounted. It isn t storming on the Sound ; 
 it was scarcely fair in me to intimate that it was ; I only 
 said it," she continued, stroking his face with her hands 
 and smiling, " to divert your attention, for I did not want 
 to tell you what I was modelling. I was afraid you would 
 think I had chosen to model the silver fox because that 
 was the animal I mounted for Mr. Oldmixon, and 
 and" 
 
 " Never mind, you little witch," said Mr. Henschel, 
 laughing heartily ; "it just shows how you can twist 
 your old father around your little finger. You could 
 make him believe that the moon s made out of green 
 cheese, if you were to try." 
 
 "She loves him," he continued to himself , after he 
 had bid her good-night and was crossing the upper hall 
 to his own room. She may say what she pleases, but 
 she loves him. Probably she thinks she does not ; but I 
 
262 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 know something of the ways of women. Well, well, I 
 hope so. I ll let her alone, and she ll do what s right ; 
 but I think she loves him, and there are very few women 
 that can resist that feeling when it comes up in their 
 hearts." 
 
 Preparations were at once made for Jack s visit. Mr. 
 Ilenschel spent the whole of the next day after the recep 
 tion of the letter selecting furniture, and Barbara " knock 
 ed on work," as she called it, two hours before her usual 
 time for stopping, in order that she might assist in the 
 selection of a rug for the floor, a brass bedstead, a dressing- 
 stand, a table, a luxuriously upholstered chair, and several 
 other articles that the emergency demanded. Then Bar 
 bara suggested a book-rack for the table, and her father 
 was for going at once to get books to put into it ; but she 
 reminded him that she knew what books Mr. Oldmixon 
 liked best to look over in a desultory way, and that she 
 had them at home. 
 
 It was a long time, however, before they could suc 
 ceed in finding a pedestal of the kind that Barbara had 
 set her heart on, and which she informed her father was 
 for the silver fox. " I shall have it done by to-morrow 
 evening," she said, " and I suppose it might as well stand 
 in the spare room as anywhere else." 
 
 " Oh, yes, by all means !" replied her father. " That 
 is the best place for it when we have visitors ; at other 
 times we ll put it in the library." 
 
 And then Saturday came. The painter had touched 
 up several spots that required his services, and had paint 
 ed the floor a dark chocolate color where it was not covered 
 by the Kensington rug ; the furniture was in place, some 
 extra preparations had been made in the way of eatables, 
 and last, but not least, the model in clay of the silver fox 
 
" WELCOME TO LASATA !" 263 
 
 had arrived the night before, and had been set up on its 
 pedestal in the centre of the large bay-window that occu 
 pied the greater part of the front of the house on that 
 side of the doorway. Mr. Henschel thought she had 
 been even more successful than with the mounted speci 
 men, inasmuch as she had had more freedom for the exer 
 cise of her artistic instinct in working the clay than in 
 moulding the skin of the dead animal. At any rate, she 
 had produced a work that was full of her genius, and that 
 Mr. Maurice, in a note to her father, said was sufficient 
 of itself to stamp her as an artist of the highest merit. 
 "I advise," he continued, " that it be cast in bronze. 
 The more works like that that are spread over the coun 
 try, the better it will be for the people." All of which 
 was very pleasant both to Mr. Henschel and to Barbara. 
 She had been seated but a few minutes in the car that 
 was to take her to Mamaroneck the station at which she 
 usually got out when she was joined by Mr. Jack Old- 
 mixon. There cannot be in a place, crowded as every 
 car is on the late trains that go out on the New Haven 
 Kailroad every Saturday afternoon, any conversation but 
 such as may be heard without restraint by every passenger 
 within ten feet of the speakers. Barbara was in the first 
 place surprised at Jack s appearance ; he looked low-spir 
 ited, and as though he was suffering. In fact, he at once 
 apologized for what he called his stupidity in having 
 passed Barbara several times without seeing her, by say 
 ing that he had a bad headache. However, by the time 
 they arrived at Mamaroneck he declared that, in spite of 
 the noise and the increased effort he had been obliged to 
 make in talking so as to allow what he said to be heard, 
 he had gotten entirely rid of his headache, and never had 
 felt better in his life. 
 
264 ME. OLDMIXOtf. 
 
 Ben, a stout Westchester lad that Mr. Ilenschel Lad 
 hired to look after the horse and do all other kinds of 
 outside work, was at the station with the little carriage, 
 and was to run home through the fields while Barbara 
 drove Jack by the road, a distance of nearly three miles. 
 Now that they were rattling along over the hard, smooth 
 country road, Jack felt that he might say some things 
 that he could not have said in the cars without having 
 them heard by twenty or more people. 
 
 " I m very glad to see you again, Miss Ilenscliel," he 
 began ; " I ve missed those delightful morning sittings 
 ever so much, though doubtless you were bored by them 
 more than your good-nature allowed you to show." 
 
 " Did I look as though I were at all bored ?" inquired 
 Barbara, with a smile. " If I did, my looks did me in 
 justice." 
 
 " No, you did not !" exclaimed Jack, with emphasis, 
 "but it is very pleasant for me to hear you say you 
 were not wearied." 
 
 " But you talked so much that 1 could not get tired." 
 
 " You might have got tired of my talking." 
 
 " Perhaps 1 should have been if you had always talked 
 about the same thing ; but your range of subjects was so 
 very extensive that I was kept wide-awake, wondering 
 what was to come next." 
 
 " I had to do that to get the facial expression I wanted. 
 I tried many subjects before I succeeded." 
 
 " Oh, indeed ! Then 1 was showing off for your 
 benefit !" 
 
 "I m afraid that is an honest way of putting it," re 
 joined Jack, with a laugh. " But, then, in art, as in 
 everything else, jmis coronat opus. 
 
 "I don t know what that means," said Barbara, 
 
" WELCOME TO LASATA !" 265 
 
 "but I m sure it s something horrible. There now!" 
 as the wheels went with a bump over a big stone that 
 lay in the way, "that comes from your bothering a coun 
 try girl s head with Latin. While I was trying to 
 make out what you said, I missed seeing that stone. 
 But pray, what subject did you finally decide upon as 
 the one that made me show off to most advantage ?" 
 
 "Ah ! Miss Henschel, there is just where I think I 
 have shown what little talent I possess. I tried at first 
 to get a particular expression, and then I changed my 
 mind, and endeavored to make your face a combination of 
 all your expressions. You know an English scientist 
 has been photographing groups of particular kinds of 
 criminals and other sorts of people. He takes, for in 
 stance, the photographs of fifty burglars. Then he 
 makes a compound picture of these fifty photographs, and 
 obtains a representation of the typical burglar. You 
 look at that, and though it is not exactly like any one of 
 the individuals taken, it is the sum total of them all, and 
 from it you would know any one of the rest at sight ; and 
 so on with murderers, pickpockets, and others. Now, 
 that s what I tried to do with you, Miss Henschel. You 
 are fifty persons that is, you have fifty different expres 
 sions and everybody that knows you and that sees the 
 picture sees an expression he has seen on your face. If I 
 had taken you in anyone of them, don t you see it would 
 only have represented the fiftieth part of you ? That 
 wouldn t have done at all, would it?" 
 
 " Not unless a part is better than the whole," replied 
 Barbara, laughing merrily, "and perhaps in this case it 
 is. You know, with some things the less you have of 
 them the better." 
 
 " True ; but you are not one of them. Look out !" as 
 12 
 
266 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 the wheels barely missed going into the ditch at the side 
 of the road. " A little more, and we should have been 
 upset." 
 
 " Yes, and then you d have had fifty pieces of a young 
 woman to pick up in reality ; but you see, Mr. Oldmixon, 
 what comes of trying to do two things at once, when either 
 is sufficient to require all the power of the female mind. 
 But finish telling me about the picture." 
 
 " 1 merely endeavored to combine your fifty expressions 
 into one which represented them all. I ve got you now, 
 Miss Henschel, not as you are at any one moment, but as 
 you are at fifty moments. I wrote you part of what 
 Archer said of it, but I didn t tell you what he said of 
 your likeness. 
 
 " Something nice, I suppose, or you wouldn t mention 
 it." 
 
 1 Yes, it was nice. But Archer is one of the most em 
 phatic men I ever knew. He s a wicked old fellow, too. " 
 
 " Then, what he said was nice, emphatic, and wicked ! 
 What a remarkable combination ! I am curious to hear 
 it." 
 
 " Shall I tell you?" 
 
 Barbara looked at him for a moment. A pleasant smile 
 was on his face. " 1 think I can trust you not to tell me 
 anything I ought not to hear," she said. 
 
 " Thanks ! He said, Oldmixon, that s the sort of a 
 face a man is ready to die and to lose his soul for. : 
 
 Barbara was silent. Things were going altogether too 
 fast, and she thought she must put a brake on them, or 
 there was no telling what would come next ; and yet it 
 was all very pleasant so pleasant, that she could not re 
 member that she had ever passed so delightful a half hour 
 as that that was now coming to an end. Yes, it was 
 
" WELCOME TO LASATA!" 267 
 
 coming to an end, for she was within a hundred yards of 
 the house, and she could see her father s tall form as he 
 walked up and down the front porch, waiting their arri 
 val. It was at least three minutes since Jack had told 
 her of Archer s remark, and during all that time she had 
 been deep in thought ; still, it was not too late for her to 
 say something that would express her disapproval of such 
 speeches. She was on the point of saying, " I should be 
 very sorry if any one would be so foolish and wicked for 
 me," and then the idea occurred to her that it would be 
 very absurd for her to assume that Mr. Archer had her 
 in his mind when he spoke, and that to him the face had 
 no individuality, but simply represented a conception of 
 the artist s mind. Yes, it would certainly be better for 
 her to say nothing, and at the moment she came to this 
 determination she drove through the gateway and up to 
 the side of the porch, where her father stood waiting to 
 receive them. 
 
 " You re a little late, Bab," he said, as Ben took the 
 reins from her hand. " Welcome to Lasata, Mr. Oldmix- 
 on !" Jack was out in an instant, and was giving his 
 hand to Barbara in order to help her to alight from the 
 carriage before Mr. Henschel had ceased speaking. Then 
 he turned and shook hands warmly with his host, ex 
 pressed his great delight at having been invited to Lasata 
 the meaning of which name had been explained to him 
 by Miss Henschel and passed high encomiums on that 
 young lady s skill in driving. 
 
 Barbara, who had not quite got through kissing her 
 father, laughed at this last part of Jack s speech. 
 
 " Yes," she said, " my skill certainly saved us from 
 being upset ; for if I had had a little less we should assured 
 ly have gone over. Therefore, father, thank your stars 
 
ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 ,nat you have a daughter that knows enough about man 
 aging a horse not to kill either herself or the gentleman 
 she is driving." 
 
 " She ll kill me," thought Jack, "if she refuses me 
 to-morrow, for to-morrow 1 shall have to ask her to be 
 my wife. 1 didn t intend to go quite that far this time, 
 hut she s so lovely and sweet that, by Heaven ! 1 can t 
 resist any longer. 
 
 Then, when he entered his room to get ready for din 
 ner and saw the model of the silver fox on its pedestal, 
 he was so delighted that he rushed back to the hall 
 where he had left Barbara talking with her father, to 
 express his joy. 
 
 " I can only now thank you for the remembrance," he 
 said; " 1 will tell you to-morrow, when I have examined it 
 by daylight, what I think of it as a work of art. It was 
 very kind, Miss Henschel, for now I know that those 
 hours in which 1 was painting my picture were not weari 
 some to you." 
 
 He took her hand in his while he was speaking, and 
 held it till he had finished. Then he raised it to his lips, 
 and without another word went back to his room. 
 
 " He s a graceful man, Bab," said Mr. Henschel, look 
 ing well enough pleased with the act of courtesy, while 
 Barbara, totally unused to such a proceeding, seemed 
 doubtful as to how she should regard it. No gentleman 
 of the court of Denmark could have done it better. I 
 saw the king kiss the queen s hand once, but he was 
 awkward compared to Mr. John Oldmixon." 
 
CHAPTER XYIII. 
 
 U WIIY SHOULD SHE NOT?" 
 
 THERE was no chance that evening for Jack to make 
 even an approach to the citadel he had determined to cap 
 ture if he could. Besides, lie wanted still a little time for 
 reflection as to the best way in which to make his attack. 
 A great deal, he knew, depended upon the tactics, just 
 as it does with an army about to make an onslaught on 
 another army. If it bungles it is very apt to be de 
 feated, even though it be of superior force. 
 
 He had had a better opportunity while at dinner and 
 during the three hours after that meal, which they all 
 spent together in the library, for becoming acquainted 
 with Barbara than he had ever before enjoyed. The con 
 versation had been devoted to a variety of subjects in 
 which he and Mr. Ilenschel and Barbara were interested, 
 and there was scarcely one upon which she had not had 
 something to say. Jack was not a very deep young man, 
 but he w r as well educated in a certain direction, and his 
 residence abroad had given him the opportunity which 
 he had not neglected of picking up a good deal of in 
 formation upon subjects a knowledge of which goes very 
 far toward giving a man a reputation for being well-in 
 formed, and still further in the direction of making him 
 agreeable in conversation. He was, therefore, sufficiently 
 competent to form an opinion of Barbara s acquirements 
 and good sense. He had made up his mind on these 
 
270 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 points some time ago, but this night had enabled him to 
 confirm his opinion beyond all danger of reversal. To be 
 sure, a young man in love does not approach without prej 
 udice the consideration of the subject of the intellectual 
 qualifications possessed by the object of his heart s desires. 
 As a rule, he is utterly unable to see anything in her 
 most insane moods and imbecile actions that is not indica 
 tive of the highest degree of mental development. But 
 this was not the case with Jack. He had fallen in love 
 with Barbara by no means altogether because she was 
 pretty. If she had not possessed a charming mind, he 
 knew very well that she would not be beautiful. It was 
 her mentality speaking through her face that made her 
 countenance such an enchanting picture to look upon. 
 If Barbara had been a fool, she would have been a very 
 commonplace-looking young woman, and then Jack 
 certainly would not have fallen in love with her. 
 
 Barbara, as the reader already knows, had not gone 
 deeply into learning ; what she knew, however, she knew 
 well, and her range of subjects, though probably not so 
 extensive as that of which the young lady graduates of 
 Macassar College are mistresses, was large enough, and 
 she had the inestimable ad vantage of knowing something 
 below the surface of the matters she had studied. 
 
 Jack was, of course, delighted. He had come to Lasata 
 expecting to be delighted, and he had not been disappoint 
 ed. To every word that Barbara spoke he listened with 
 the most rapt attention. She had those predominating 
 attractions in a woman a clear and distinct enunciation 
 and a soft, melodious voice. Consequently, though she 
 never spoke in a loud tone, every word was as distinctly 
 heard as though it had been gently spoken directly into 
 the ear. It was happiness, therefore, for Jack, who had 
 
"WHY SHOULD SHE NOT?" 271 
 
 been for many days past in almost constant association 
 with his uncle, and the unwilling recipient of that old 
 gentleman s snarls and groans over the state of the world 
 generally, and of his nephew Hogarth in particular, to 
 sit in this peaceful atmosphere, where all was gentleness 
 and refined repose, and listen to the mellowed voice and 
 the musical laugh of the woman he thought the loveliest 
 in all the world. 
 
 It was late late, that is, for Lasata when the party 
 broke up. Barbara held out her hand to Jack as she bid 
 him good-night and wished him pleasant dreams. So in 
 toxicated was he with the impression she had made upon 
 him, that if they had been alone he would at once have 
 told the story of his love. As it was, there was nothing 
 to do but to make some pleasant commonplace speech, 
 and to wait for a better opportunity. He pressed her 
 hand a little, but of course there was no response through 
 that medium, and then he went into his own room. 
 
 Like a skilful and far-seeing general on the eve of an 
 important battle, Jack sat down to think over the situa 
 tion of affairs and to lay out his plan of operations for the 
 next day. It has been said that the woman does not live 
 and never has lived that could conceal her love from the 
 man that possesses her heart. Probably this is true, but 
 it is equally so of the other sex. When a man loves a 
 woman, the woman, if she be not a fool, will certainly dis 
 cover the fact. Either may pretend to a love they do not 
 feel, and thus deceive not only the immature, but even 
 those that are experienced in the wiles of men and wom 
 en ; but when the passion is really present, it will reveal 
 itself in spite of all efforts that may be made to keep it 
 secret. Indeed, nothing so effectually makes it known 
 as the attempts that may be made to conceal it. The 
 
272 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 struggle is so wildly energetic and the results so entirely 
 one-sided, that he or she must be very blind or very cal 
 lous if the true state of affairs is not soon made apparent. 
 
 Jack threw himself into the comfortable chair that had 
 been provided for his use, and gave himself up, with as 
 much disinterestedness as was possible under the circum 
 stances, to a calm and impartial review of the position in 
 which he was placed and of the events and situations that 
 had brought him to the present crisis. As the result of 
 his cogitations, he arrived at the belief that Barbara loved 
 him ; but there was so much apprehension and fear 
 that he might be mistaken in this conviction, that, on the 
 whole, the effect was not so consolatory as he could have 
 wished. As is usual in such cases, he was afraid to trust 
 implicitly to the evidence of his own senses. He was 
 very much in the position of a physician that attempts to 
 prescribe for himself, and whose judgment is almost in 
 variably warped by the personal interest lie has in the 
 case. Still, after making all due allowances for the inev 
 itable errors in this direction to which he was subject, he 
 could not fail to see that Barbara was kindly disposed tow 
 ard him, and that this bias was so strongly pronounced, 
 that if it was not already love as he understood the sub 
 ject, it practically amounted to the same thing in the 
 heart of a girl as true and as pure as was Barbara Hen- 
 schel. 
 
 But there was a family matter one that had within the 
 past few days given him much anxiety which he felt he 
 was bound, as an honest man and a gentleman, to place 
 fully before Barbara when he asked her to be his wife. 
 It was this that had made him look badly, and as though 
 he were ill, when Barbara and he had met in the car on 
 their way to Lasata, and which he had explained by alleg- 
 
"WHY SHOULD SHE NOT?" 273 
 
 ing a headache. His head did ache. There had been 
 quite enough since he had last seen her to make both his 
 head and his heart ache, and for all that he could perceive 
 to the contrary, there was ample warrant for the be 
 lief that they would ache still more before certain mat 
 ters were settled. All this he intended that Barbara 
 should know. It should never be in the power of any 
 one to say that he had induced her to promise to become 
 his wife when there were circumstances existing that, had 
 they been brought to her knowledge, might have caused 
 her to turn from him with horror. 
 
 In the mean time the woman of whom he was thinking, 
 and with whom his happiness was so intimately bound, 
 was sitting by the window of a room that overlooked the 
 Sound. The night was bleak ; there was no moon, and 
 the stars were obscured by thick black clouds that looked 
 as though they might be full of snow. Far off in the 
 distance, on the opposite shore of the Sound, was a light 
 house upon which there was a revolving lantern, that she 
 had ascertained, by actual count, flashed its bright bar of 
 light over the water every two minutes. She sat watch 
 ing this object, her thoughts being a strange medley, of 
 which the light, Jack, and herself were the central fea 
 tures, and wondering how the affair which she now felt 
 was hers for good or evil, she did not know which 
 would end. "Would it be always bright, as was the light 
 when the open side of the lantern was turned toward her, 
 or would it be dark, as was the lantern when the opaque 
 side prevented the emergence of the rays from the lamp ? 
 Or would it be for a while light and then dark, and so on 
 to the end ? 
 
 She knew Jack loved her, and she felt sure that if he 
 were given the opportunity he would tell her so before 
 12* 
 
274 MR. OLDMIXCKN". 
 
 the time came round on Monday morning for him to go 
 back to New York. She had resolved that nothing should 
 ever induce her to marry him, but now she felt the de 
 termination becoming less, as she found that she loved 
 him more than she had thought she should ever love him. 
 She felt that it was now possible that she would marry 
 him if he asked her, and she found herself with the ques 
 tions in her heart, "Why should she not ? What did she 
 owe to his uncle that she should sacrifice her happiness 
 and that of the man she loved for any fancied loyalty to 
 him ? True, she knew that Jack was to be his uncle s 
 heir, and she thought he was ignorant of this fact. She 
 had virtually promised not to speak of anything Mr. 
 Oldmixonhad told her, and therefore it left room for the 
 suspicion in the minds of some persons, perhaps even in 
 that of Jack himself, and certainly in that of Mr. Old- 
 mixon, that she had taken advantage of her knowledge to 
 inveigle this presumptively rich young man into a mar 
 riage when he did not know his pecuniary value. She 
 might tell him, she thought, and then he would be free, 
 with his eyes open, to do as he pleased ; but reflection told 
 her that this would be dishonorable, and no woman ever 
 had a more chivalrous sense of honor than had Barbara 
 Henschel a sense in which her sex is, as a rule, deficient. 
 But what were the opinions of old Mr. Oldmixon and all 
 the rest of the world when set up against Jack s ? And 
 again the question came with irresistible force, Why 
 should she make him and herself miserable to please 
 other people ? True, why should she ? Had she been 
 disposed to do so, she would have been the only woman 
 within my knowledge willing to do such a thing. "Women 
 will eagerly sacrifice themselves for the man they love, 
 but they will not sacrifice him. The women that go 
 
U WHY SHOULD SHE NOT?" 275 
 
 into convents and kill themselves for love are either those 
 whose passion is not returned, or they are insane melan 
 cholies that have brooded over delusions until their reason 
 has been overwhelmed. No woman of sane mind, know 
 ing that the love she receives is as warm as that that she 
 gives, ever sacrificed herself and her lover to an idea or a 
 principle. She is not going to make him unhappy, what 
 ever else she may do. She may allege a thousand rea 
 sons why she should not marry him, but the real reason is 
 either that she does not love him or that she knows he 
 does not love her, and this she generally keeps to herself. 
 If these be absent, there will be no holding back or 
 going into convents or a resort to Paris green, but she 
 will marry him by hook or by crook, openly or secretly, 
 though all the world should stand in the way. Barbara 
 felt very much in that way. She now perceived that when 
 she had spoken so decidedly to her father to the effect that 
 nothing could persuade her to be Mr. John Oldmixon s 
 wife, that she did not love him as she now did. She 
 knew now that she should be obliged to marry him if he 
 asked her, and if she was entirely satisfied that his love was 
 good and true. Doubtless there would be more or less 
 trouble ; but her lover was a man who had shown his abil 
 ity to hold his own in the face of adverse circumstances, 
 and even to make his way in spite of them ; and she knew 
 that she had a force of her own that would enable her to 
 yield efficient assistance. She was not one to succumb to 
 the attacks of adversity. She had always shown pluck 
 and determination when these qualities had been re 
 quired, and though she had never suffered any great 
 misfortune, she had the mental organization that is 
 ready to meet misfortune whenever it presents itself. 
 "I love him," she said to herself, just as the light 
 
276 MR. OLDMIXO^. 
 
 from over the Sound flashed in her eyes, " and that s the 
 end of the contest. It s gone, "as darkness once more 
 prevailed on the water, " but it will shine again. Oh, 
 Jack" he had told her that his intimate friends called 
 him by that name u I tried my best not to love you, but 
 it was no use. I thought you loved me almost from the 
 first, and now 1 know you do, just as surely as though 
 you had already told me. And if you do, I ll be yours, 
 Jack, even if it should be wrong for me to marry you. 
 It can t be very wrong ; I don t see how it can. If he 
 loves me and I love him, whose business is it but ours ?" 
 And with this satisfactory conclusion of the matter, Bar 
 bara went to bed, and with a much better prospect of 
 getting a good night s rest than had Mr. Jack Oldmixon 
 in the room just under hers. 
 
 As a matter of fact, Jack did not sleep well. lie did 
 not go to bed till he had exhausted all the capabilities of 
 the subject that occupied his mind, and had discovered 
 that there were no new lights in which he could view it. 
 Indeed, it would have been a very wonderful topic if he 
 had been able to extract anything original out of it, for 
 he had thought of scarcely anything else, since his last 
 meeting with Barbara, in the old shop in which he had 
 painted his picture. There had been other matters forced 
 upon his attention and they had worried him, but he 
 had tried to dismiss them from his mind, and though not 
 altogether with success, yet to such purpose that they 
 rarely obtruded themselves upon him, and then only as 
 passing shadows, that fled away as quickly as they had 
 come. 
 
 The next morning, in spite of a rather restless night, 
 he looked and felt better than at any time since his return 
 from Annapolis. He was one of that class of persons who 
 
"WHY SHOULD SHE NOT?" 277 
 
 become perfectly composed, when a crisis that concerns 
 them has come, although they may be greatly disturbed 
 while awaiting it. He had taken occasion before leaving 
 his room to make a thorough study of the silver fox ; 
 just as conscientious a one as though he was capable of 
 passing an impartial judgment on that work of art. I 
 am afraid that no matter how bad it might have been, 
 Jack would have found something in it to admire ; as it 
 was, however, it would have been impossible for him to 
 go wrong in any laudation of Barbara s first work that 
 he might give. It was, as Mr. Maurice had said, a pro 
 duction that would have made a reputation for any sculp 
 tor, and Jack was fully competent to discover as much 
 for himself. Of course, it was a pleasure for him to give 
 his opinion, as he did at the breakfast-table, and equally 
 a pleasure for Barbara and her father to hear him express 
 it with such evident heartiness and sense of its truth as 
 he exhibited. 
 
 The day was by no means an unpleasant one, consid 
 ering the bad prospect for clear weather that the night 
 before had offered. It was not warm, but the sun was 
 shining brightly, and there was no cold, cutting wind to 
 make walking uncomfortable. 
 
 There was at the distance of about a mile from Lasata 
 a little church to which Mr. Henschel and his daughter 
 were in the habit of going every Sunday morning. Of 
 course, he had been brought up according to the tenets 
 of the Church of Denmark, which, though mainly Luther 
 an in its doctrines, has nevertheless its bishops, with an 
 apostolic succession even more unquestioned than that 
 of the Church of England, and its Protestant Episcopal 
 daughter in the United States. On his arrival in their 
 country, they had looked about among the forty or more 
 
278 MR. OLDMIXOltf. 
 
 religious sects that they found ready to receive them 
 into their folds, and had come to the conclusion that the 
 Episcopal came nearer to what they had been accustomed 
 to at home than any of the others. They had accord 
 ingly given in their adhesion to that ecclesiastical organ 
 ization, and had taken care that their children should be 
 educated in its communion. 
 
 Barbara took her religion as she did everything else 
 healthily. She had been confirmed, and she devoutly be 
 lieved all the articles of the Christian faith, but she be 
 lieved them according to her own light, and not that of 
 any one else. She found nothing in the doctrines or ritual 
 of the Church that required her to dispense with her own 
 reasoning powers and to commit her judgment and her 
 conscience to others. She did not, therefore, do her duty 
 to God and to her neighbor through any fear of eternal 
 damnation if she neglected it, or hope of everlasting hap 
 piness as a reward for its performance. She did it be 
 cause it was right. She was happy in her religion. If 
 she had believed that the Creator of the world would pun 
 ish eternally any of the beings that he had put into it, 
 she would not have been happy. Into minute theologi 
 cal points she did not care to venture. She went to 
 church and said her prayers, and felt happier for the 
 exercise. 
 
 The fact of Jack s being in the house was no reason 
 why she should not go to church that morning. There 
 was nothing to do but to ask him to accompany her father 
 and herself, and there was nothing for Jack to do but to 
 accept. If the truth must be told of this young man, it 
 must be said that he was not much of a church-goer. In 
 fact, religion had never been one of the strong points of 
 the Oldmixons ; and though, in answer to Barbara s ques 
 
"WHY SHOULD SHE NOT?" 279 
 
 tion, he said that his mother had been a member of the 
 Church of Scotland, he was forced to admit that her early 
 death had prevented her giving him much religious in 
 struction, and that he had never sought for it elsewhere. 
 He added, however, that he was perfectly willing, nay 
 anxious, to take his first lesson that morning, under the 
 auspices of Miss Henschel. 
 
 It had been decided that as the morning was pleasant 
 they would walk, so at ten o clock they departed for the 
 church. Jack thought, as he started off by Barbara s side, 
 that never had she looked more beautiful than she did 
 then, with her dark brown frock and seal-skin jacket, and 
 a black broad-brimmed felt hat with a red- winged black 
 bird of her own mounting, as she told him set in front, 
 with its wings in the attitude of flight. If Mr. Henschel 
 were only out of the way, what better chance for laying 
 his heart and hand at Barbara s feet than would be the 
 walk home from church ? But how to get him out of the 
 way was a matter that appeared to be at first sight alto 
 gether beyond his powers. Jack was not much of a 
 diplomatist ; his nature was altogether too frank for the 
 double-dealing or secretiveness necessary for the one 
 that works by intrigue. But this very deficiency in the 
 power of device was often the means of his obtaining 
 success when others, in like circumstances, by using 
 strategy would have ignominiously failed. Upon the 
 present occasion he wanted Mr. Henschel out of the 
 way, and it did not take him long to arrive at the con 
 clusion that the best way to secure that gentleman s 
 absence was to tell him all the essential facts of the situ 
 ation, and request him to allow his daughter and him 
 Jack Oldmixon to walk home from church without the 
 presence of a third party. They were just passing out 
 
280 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 of the gate when this idea occurred to Jack, and to act 
 upon it at once was a necessary concomitant. 
 
 16 May I say a word to you, Mr. Henschel ?" he said. 
 "I beg your pardon, Miss Henschel," he continued, 
 addressing Barbara, "but if you will kindly continue to 
 switch at that cedar-tree with your parasol for two or 
 three minutes I will promise to bring your father back 
 in safety. " lie led the way round the house to the front 
 porch, and then, without any preliminary words, opened 
 his case. 
 
 "Mr. Henschel," he said, "I don t know whether 
 you have observed the fact or not, but I love your 
 daughter and I want to make her my wife. My time 
 here is very short, and I propose, with your consent, to tell 
 her this morning what is in my heart, and to ask her 
 to marry me." 
 
 Mr. Henschel knew perfectly well that Jack was in 
 love with Barbara, and, as the reader knows, he fully ap 
 proved of that young gentleman as a husband for his 
 daughter, but the present announcement took him by 
 surprise, and it was a moment or two before he could suf 
 ficiently recover his presence of mind to give an answer. 
 When, however, he did speak, there was no uncertain 
 sound in his voice or meaning in his words. He believed, 
 in spite of what Barbara had told him, that she would 
 eventually be willing to marry Jack, and he thought that 
 the last twenty-four hours had been sufficient to produce 
 a weakening in the determination she had expressed to 
 him. lie had noticed that even when most emphatic in 
 the declaration of her intention never to become Jack s 
 wife, she had not denied loving him. There was prob 
 ably, he thought, some chivalric idea connected with 
 Jack s heirship of old Mr. Oldmixon s estate that caused 
 
"WHY SHOULD SHE NOT ?" 281 
 
 her to take an exaggerated and mistaken view of her duty, 
 and that would probably disappear under the cogency of 
 her lover s arguments. He held out his hand to Jack, 
 and, of course, it was grasped warmly, for it was evident 
 before a word was spoken what the answer would be. 
 
 " Mr. Oldmixon," said Mr. Henschel, while the tears 
 started to his eyes, " I am not so old as to have lost my per 
 ceptive faculties. I have known for some time that you 
 loved Barbara, and if I had not approved of you as a hus 
 band for rny girl, 1 wouldn t have asked you to come 
 here. It would not be proper for me, in the absence of 
 absolute knowledge, to say anything about your chances, 
 but I am sure you can trust her to tell you the truth. 
 You can speak to her whenever you choose, and I hope 
 she ll take you for her husband. She s a good girl, and, 
 what s as important in a girl as it is in a man, she s got a 
 good stock of common-sense. 1 suppose you want me 
 to get out of the way this morning, and give you a chance 
 to speak to her?" 
 
 " Yes, that s what I want," said Jack, who had all the 
 time kept hold of Mr. Henschel s hand, and who now 
 gave it an extra grasp. " You know how grateful I am 
 for your confidence in me. I have asked you for the 
 greatest treasure you possess, and I don t believe you will 
 ever have cause to regret having given her to me." 
 
 " With her consent, of course," interrupted Mr. Hen 
 schel. You may tell her I approve, after she has accept 
 ed you ; but no persuasions through me. 
 
 u I will say nothing of your consent till she has given 
 me hers," said Jack, with an eagerness that showed his 
 willingness to promise almost anything that might be 
 asked of him. 
 
 "Now that that matter is settled," observed Mr. 
 
ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 Henschel, with a happy smile on his face, " what further 
 is it that you want me to do?" 
 
 " I want you," said Jack, not in the least abashed, " to 
 leave us at the church door when the service is over. 
 You can probably," continued this outspoken young 
 man, "find some one in the congregation to whom you 
 would like to say a few words. There s the doctor, for 
 instance ; you might tell him how well the new drains 
 work." 
 
 " The doctor! Doctor Maddox ! He hasn t been in 
 side of a church for twenty years, and he told me a day 
 or two since that he never expected to go again. I 
 might say a word to the clergyman. But," he added, 
 with a slight laugh, " it might be too soon to do that yet ; 
 however, I ll find some excuse, never fear." 
 
 Thanks. Now, let us join Barbara Miss Henschel, I 
 mean," correcting himself ; "she will wonder what has 
 become of us." 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 1 I LOVE YOU. 
 
 THE little church which the Henschels attended was 
 constructed with a due regard to the principles of ecclesi- 
 ological art. In the first place, there were no shams 
 about it, and, in the next, no vain attempt had been made 
 by the architect to copy, on a diminutive scale, any fa 
 mous church edifice. I have seen in one of the largest 
 cities of this country what is called an exact imitation of 
 St. Paul s in London. It is a brick building, perhaps at 
 the outside fifty by a hundred feet in extent, and sur 
 mounted by wooden cupolas covered with tin. Of course 
 it is an abomination in the sight of every person with a 
 soul above that of the snobbish architect that built it. 
 
 St. Ethelwold s made no pretension to being any bet 
 ter than it really was. It was built of a dark granite, and 
 in the early English style, and was devoid of plaster, the 
 bare stone, laid as it was in courses, producing a much more 
 impressive effect than if it had been covered up and sten 
 cilled all over with gilt crosses, or lambs holding flags 
 with their forelegs, or other symbols. 
 
 Jack sat next to Barbara ; she gave him a prayer-book, 
 and all through the service found the places for him. No 
 one could have been more devout, so far as externals went, 
 than was he. He stood up and sat down, and bowed his 
 head, and even made the responses, under the guidance of 
 his fuglewoman, in a way that would have done credit 
 
284 
 
 ME. 
 
 to a much more habitual worshipper. And, indeed, Jack 
 felt all the solemnity of the occasion with a depth and a 
 sincerity that he would not a month before have thought 
 it possible he could feel in any church in Christendom. 
 Although, as we have seen, not a church-goer, Jack was 
 not deficient in that natural religion in which all well- 
 constituted men, even though they be agnostics, abound. 
 The solemn, the beautiful, the reverential in sight and 
 in sound never failed to move him, and to excite in him 
 chivalrous or other noble thoughts in consonance with the 
 emotions that swayed him. Now, the dim light entering 
 through stained-glass windows, the measured voice of the 
 clergyman, the lofty words of the ritual, the spirit of 
 adoration that pervaded the congregation, the swelling 
 sound of the organ as it pealed forth its sacred melodies, 
 and, above all, the worshipping woman kneeling at his 
 side, whose low, sweet notes fell on his ears with a power 
 that brought the tears to his eyes, all excited in his 
 heart emotions that made him feel, for the time being, at 
 least, as though he were lifted up from a world of sin and 
 borne into a sphere where everything was pure and good. 
 (t Lord, have mercy upon us, and incline our hearts to 
 keep this law." He glanced down at Barbara as these 
 words of supplication came from her lips in response to the 
 clergyman in the chancel pronouncing each commandment 
 of the Decalogue. Her head was bowed upon her closed 
 hands, which rested on the pew-railing before her. He 
 could not see her face, but the graceful curve of her white 
 neck, the well-rounded outlines of her figure she had 
 taken off her seal-skin jacket the knot of red hair the 
 loveliest hair he thought that he had ever seen that was 
 not covered by the shapely little hat with its dainty 
 bird that her own dear hands had mounted, the earnest- 
 
I LOVE YOU. 
 
 285 
 
 ness with which each prayer was uttered, the distinctness 
 of her enunciation, impressed Jack with such a sense of 
 her beauty and goodness, that he wondered if it were 
 really possible that she could ever be his. He had never 
 felt his own un worthiness so keenly as he did then, 
 seemed to him for a moment as though it would be almost 
 a sin to link with his own the life of the gentle girl 
 against whose name in the Book of Life the recording 
 angel had entered nothing but good, and yet who humbly 
 prayed to God for strength to keep his commandments. 
 How infinitely better than he was this kneeling, adoring 
 woman, who laid bare her heart to the Maker of all things, 
 as she might have done to her earthly father, and suppli 
 cated him for a power she did not need ! < Lord, have 
 mercy upon us, and write all these thy laws in our hearts, 
 we beseech thee. " Were they not already written in her 
 heart ? Doubtless she had never broken a single one of 
 them, while he, who had certainly violated two or three, 
 perhaps more, had never, so far as he could remember, 
 uttered a prayer for forgiveness or for strength to resist 
 temptation. Well, hereafter it should be different with 
 him. Her God should be his God, if she should grant 
 him her love. Yes, for he was willing to bargain with 
 Providence, or, in fact, with any other power that could 
 give him what he desired. Emotional religion is not, 
 after all, of the most elevated kind, or the most perma 
 nent in its duration. 
 
 Jack listened to the sermon, but with less attention 
 than he had bestowed on the service. The clergyman 
 was young younger than himself and it was not likely 
 that a man like Jack, who had seen a good deal of the 
 world in various parts of its surface, could look up to him 
 with sufficient confidence to accept him as a moral guide. 
 
286 MB. OLDMIXON. 
 
 Jack was sure that lie knew more about the human heart 
 than did the speaker, and, moreover, that his knowledge 
 came from personal experience, while that of the other 
 came from books. It was very much as it is with the 
 young men and young women who nowadays take to 
 writing novels as soon as they have escaped from col 
 lege or boarding-school, and who undertake to describe 
 life and character from what they have read in other 
 novels or have seen enacted on the stage by actors, 
 who themselves have gotten their small knowledge from 
 books. Clergymen, like novelists, should be over fifty 
 years of age. 
 
 It must be confessed that while the young theologian 
 was laying down the religious and moral law with a pos- 
 itiveness that ought to have been the result of personal 
 experience, Jack was not so successful in following him as 
 were many others of the congregation, who were accus 
 tomed to receive the words of warning and advice that 
 fell from the lips of the ministrant as though they were 
 veritable droppings from the sanctuary. He was think 
 ing how he should begin the observations that he had to 
 address to Barbara. At first he was disposed to adopt 
 the same plan that had proved so successful with her 
 father that is, to come right out with the gist of the 
 whole matter by telling her that he loved her. That, 
 after all, was the one thing before which all the rest that 
 he had to say went down like grass before a lawn-mower. 
 But, upon reflection, he came to the conclusion that it 
 would be better to inform her fully of certain family 
 affairs that troubled him and that might influence her in 
 the answer she might have to give him. Better to start 
 squarely by letting her know just who he was and what 
 disadvantages might attend upon marriage with him. 
 
"I LOVE YOU." 287 
 
 The advantages might safely be left to her to discover 
 
 for herself. 
 
 The sermon was not a long one, and they rose at its 
 conclusion to receive the blessing, and then to the music 
 of the organ to make their way out of the church. But 
 just as they had reached the door, the sexton came up to 
 Mr. Henschel and informed him that Mr. Wilton, the 
 rector, wished to speak with him in the vestry. 
 
 "He wants to see me about becoming one of the 
 wardens in the place of Mr. Holtby, who died last 
 week," said Mr. Henschel. "He spoke about it last 
 Sunday, but 1 was not then prepared to give him an 
 answer. Don t wait for me," he continued, with a sig 
 nificant glance at Jack. " Walk slowly, and perhaps 1 
 may overtake you. If 1 do not, I shall not be far be 
 hind you." 
 
 Nothing could have been more fortunate than this in 
 tervention. Jack and Barbara walked slowly, and in a 
 few minutes found that all the rest of the congregation, 
 most of whom came in vehicles of some kind or other, 
 had passed them. At last they were alone. 
 
 They had talked of the sermon and of other indifferent 
 subjects, till at last, Jack looking up and down the road, 
 made the discovery that no one was in sight. His time 
 had come, and then he found that all his preconceived 
 plans of operation had vanished from his mind as com 
 pletely as though they had never found a lodgment there, 
 and that, after all, he must depend upon the inspiration of 
 the moment. When did an earnest man ever fail at such 
 a time ? No one was ever more in earnest than was 
 Jack. Without stopping to think or to arrange his^ideas 
 in any logical order, he began with what came first in his 
 mind, and went on with a degree of volubility that, had 
 
288 MR. OLDMIXOtt. 
 
 he been capable at the time of judging, would have 
 astonished him. 
 
 " At last we are alone," he said, " and at last I have 
 the opportunity of telling you what of all things in the 
 world is most in my heart. It will take but a moment 
 to say it. It is all contained in three little words l I love 
 you. " 
 
 Having gotten thus far and it must be admitted that 
 anything else would only have been an amplification of 
 his " three little words" Jack stopped, not only talking 
 but walking, and, at the same instant, Barbara stopped 
 also. From the time that he had spoken the first word, 
 she knew of course what was coming. There was noth 
 ing else that, after such a preamble, could have come but 
 the words u 1 love you," or others to that eifect. For a 
 moment she felt weak and faint, but it was only for a 
 moment, and before he had half finished his short speech 
 she was taking in his words with a kind of calm delight 
 that appeared to pervade her whole being. When he 
 stopped walking she stopped as a matter of course ; it 
 seemed to her that that was of itself a tacit admission 
 that in future he was to be her guide. She had not raised 
 her parasol, but she held it in her hand, and swung it 
 from side to side, while her eyes were apparently engaged 
 in diligently watching its oscillations. 
 
 " Did you hear what I said ?" resumed Jack. 
 
 " Yes ; " very low, but yet very distinctly. 
 
 " Have you nothing to say to me ?" 
 
 She raised her eyes, and Jack saw that they were swim 
 ming with tears ; and thus, before she spoke a word, he 
 knew that the victory was essentially won. 
 
 " Yes," she said at last, " I heard what you said, and 
 I am very glad, for for 1 think I love you too. But 
 
289 
 
 your uncle ? Perhaps he may have other views for 
 you." 
 
 Jack looked up and down the road, and seeing that 
 there was no one in sight, took Barbara s head between 
 his hands, and bending over for though she was tall, he 
 was a good deal taller kissed her lips. 
 
 " I know I am not worthy of you, my darling," he 
 said ; " I was thinking all the time I was in church how 
 thoroughly beneath you I am, but I ll try to make myself 
 better. You ve made me very happy ; I ve loved you, 
 dear, ever since I first saw you. I never saw a woman 
 as good and as lovely as you. And now you re mine ! I 
 can scarcely believe it " and he kissed her again, as 
 though to make sure that she really had said " yes " to 
 him. 
 
 Barbara smiled. " Yes, I am sure I love you with all 
 my heart," she said. " But there is something in the 
 way that I have no right to mention to you. I don t 
 know that it can come between us, but I wish it were 
 not there, for if it were away my happiness would be 
 complete." 
 
 " Something in the way !" exclaimed Jack, his thoughts 
 at once reverting to his family affairs. " What is it, 
 dear ?" fearing, as he asked the question, that she would 
 tell him of something she had heard about Hogarth or his 
 uncle. 
 
 " Oh, I cannot tell you ; I promised never to mention 
 it." 
 
 " Well, dear," said Jack, a little crestfallen, " if you 
 really made a promise not to speak of it, you are, of 
 course, bound to keep your promise. 
 
 "I I don t think I promised in words," faltered 
 Barbara, i In fact, when the statement was about being 
 
 13 
 
290 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 made to me, and the gentleman said, You must promise 
 not to tell this to anybody but your father, 1 didn t say 
 anything at all, but I allowed him to go on and tell me, 
 and that was the same thing as promising, wasn t it ?" 
 
 She raised her eyes again to Jack s, as she asked this 
 question, and looked at him inquiringly and doubtfully. 
 He had never seen her more beautiful. 
 
 " Wait one moment," exclaimed the enraptured young 
 man ; " I can t answer any questions in the presence of 
 such loveliness as yours. Oh, Barbara ! my Barbara ! 
 have you the slightest idea that you are the sweetest 
 woman that God ever made ; the dearest, the most beau 
 tiful, the most incomparable, the 
 
 u Now," she said, laughing, " you don t expect me to 
 answer that question, do you ? But," she added more 
 seriously, " if you love me, and admire me, I am very 
 glad. Don t you think we had better walk on ? We ve 
 been standing here almost long enough for father to 
 overtake us." 
 
 " No," he continued, looking at her rapturously, " you 
 don t know what a perfectly adorable creature you are. 
 If you did, you would go away from this grovelling 
 earth, to dwell with your fellow angels." 
 
 Again she laughed. She was very happy ; she threw 
 her arms around his neck, and drew his head to her 
 breast. It was her first caress. " Oh, Jack !" she mur 
 mured, " my love, my love ! Don t talk such nonsense. 
 Don t you think I d rather be with you than with all the 
 angels that were ever born ?" 
 
 u l didn t know," said the imbecile young man all 
 young men that are worth anything are imbecile at such 
 times " I knew I wasn t fit to associate with you, and 
 1 thought that perhaps you d rather be with the superior 
 
"I LOVE YOU." 291 
 
 beings that are like you. I suppose they are angels ; they 
 may be goddesses for all I know. That was the first 
 time you "called me Jack ; I was waiting to see when 
 you meant to begin. 
 
 " 1 expect to call you Jack many times." 
 " I hope you may do it fora thousand years, and then 
 for another thousand, and so on for all eternity." 
 
 " Oh, you d be tired enough of me before that." 
 Jack disdained any answer to this beyond a kiss. 
 i Now about that promise, or what you call a promise, 
 he said, when he had the chance ; " made to a gentleman, 
 too ! Upon my word, Miss Henschel ! Have you any 
 clear idea of what you ve been doing ?" He put on an 
 air of mock severity as he asked this question. 
 
 " No, Jack," answered Barbara, demurely, " 1 don t 
 think I have. I have only one idea now ; there isn t 
 room in my head for another I know that you love me, 
 and everything else in the way of knowledge has gone." 
 
 " That s all very well. That s the way I want to hear 
 you talk ; but don t you think you could muster sufficient 
 intellect to tell me who the gentleman is that you gave 
 that ghost of a promise to ? 
 
 " I think I might do that much. I made no promise, 
 expressed or implied, on that point." 
 
 "Well, who was it?" 
 
 " It was your uncle, Jack." 
 
 " My Uncle Victor !" 
 
 " Yes, Jack." 
 
 " You know him then ?" 
 
 "Yes, Jack." 
 
 " I am perfectly astounded ! Have you known him 
 long ?" 
 
 "No, Jack." 
 
292 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 " Have you met him often ?" 
 
 " No, Jack, only twice." 
 
 " How did you happen to make his acquaintance ?" 
 
 Barbara reflected for a moment before answering. 
 They had resumed their walking, and they had yet 
 about three-quarters of a mile to go before reaching 
 home. She thought that what she had a right to tell 
 her father she ought to be allowed to tell the man she 
 was going to marry, especially as the matter concerned 
 him. Yes, she would tell him. In reality, she had not 
 actually promised. Scruples like hers disappear from a 
 woman s mind in the presence of her lover. 
 
 " I think I ll have to tell you all about it, Jack," she 
 said at last. " There s really no reason why you should 
 not know, and if I don t tell you I shall be uncomfort 
 able, and you will be unhappy, won t you, dear ?" 
 
 " Yes, very unhappy, my darling, very miserable. 
 The very idea of your having a secret from me makes 
 me wretched." (Jack did not look very wretched, but 
 appearances are often deceptive.) " Besides," added 
 the specious young man, " you didn t promise. If he 
 had cared anything about it, don t you think he would 
 have had you promise in words before he told you any 
 thing ? I think you ought to tell me, and then I ve 
 something in the way of a history to relate to you. 
 How in the world did you make Uncle Victor s acquaint 
 ance ?" 
 
 " I mounted a canary-bird for him ;" and then Barbara 
 told all she knew of Mr. Oldmixon, and all that he had 
 related to her of his loves, his nephews, and his inten 
 tions. 
 
 Jack listened in astonishment. " So all this time," he 
 exclaimed, " you have known of some of the most im- 
 
c< 
 
 I LOVE YOU. 
 
 293 
 
 portant events in my life, and it is to you that I owe 
 the reconciliation with my uncle !" 
 
 " Yes, Jack, but you must bear in mind that at that 
 time I had never even seen you. It was very venture 
 some in me to take your side when I knew nothing about 
 you, don t you think so ?" looking archly at him as she 
 
 spoke. 
 
 " 1 said you were an angel just now ; you are my 
 guardian angel. I m glad that I owe so much to you." 
 3 " But, Jack dear, that is the very thing that I thought 
 might come between us. 1 was afraid that when you 
 came to know all, as you would some day, you might 
 think I am not afraid now but I was little fearful 
 that you might think I loved you because you were rich, 
 andandthat s what I thought." 
 
 " You little goose ! As if 1 could ever think such a 
 thing of an angel like you ! But if you have the slightest 
 shadow of a fear on that account, you can get rid of it, 
 for I am no longer my uncle s heir." 
 " Not your uncle s heir !" 
 
 " No, I have disinherited myself. It isn t often a 
 fellow does that voluntarily," continued Jack, grandly, 
 "but I ve done it." 
 " On purpose ?" 
 
 " Yes, I ve renounced all my prospects, or rather have 
 declined them. You ll be happier, I hope, dear, without 
 the money that is, if I can do anything to make you 
 
 so." 
 
 " Then you ve given it all back to your brother ?" 
 " No ; some woman is to get it." 
 
 Some woman !" exclaimed Barbara, surprised in turn. 
 " Yes, some woman who, I have no idea, but I was 
 expected to marry her." 
 
294 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 " Expected to marry her, and without ever having 
 seen her !" 
 
 " Yes, but of course I would not do it." Then Jack 
 told how Mr. Oldmixon s will had made him only a con 
 tingent heir, how he had renounced the contingency, and 
 how his uncle s estate would now go to the lady for 
 whom he had been intended. 
 
 " And you don t know who she is ?" 
 
 :t 1 have not the slightest idea." 
 a 
 
 And you gave up all that large fortune for me ? 
 Oh, Jack, how 1 do love you !" 
 
 " I d renounce a hundred fortunes for you !" ex 
 claimed Jack, magnificently. 
 
 " Oh, how I do love you for that !" repeated Barbara. 
 " How very odd that your uncle should want to force 
 you to marry a woman you had never seen !" 
 
 " Odd ! I think it was horrible ! He thought he 
 could buy me with his money. I soon let him under 
 stand differently." 
 
 " Was he very angry ?" 
 
 t( No, he was not angry ; he was grieved, sincerely 
 grieved. 1 think he has a lingering hope that I will still 
 marry her. You know 1 have up to a year after his 
 death. If I don t marry her by that time she gets the 
 estate." 
 
 " The horrid creature ! Do you think she s a party to 
 the arrangement ?" 
 
 " I don t know. I shouldn t be surprised if she were. 
 She s probably some woman he s been in love with, and 
 who has rejected him." 
 
 " He said something to me about dividing his prop 
 erty between you and another. Then he changed his 
 ideas and determined to give it all to you. I m glad it s 
 
" 
 
 LOVE YOU. 
 
 " 295 
 
 out of the way, Jack. We can do without it, can t 
 
 we?" 
 
 " Of course we can ; I can make all I want. 
 
 They were now near the gate that opened upon the 
 lawn that surrounded the house, and looking in that 
 direction they saw that Mr. Henschel was already at 
 home, having probably taken a shorter path that led 
 over the fields. 
 
 " Father will be glad to know that I am going to be 
 your wife," said Barbara. " He likes you, Jack." 
 
 " Yes," said that young man, complacently, " I think 
 
 he does." 
 
 " What do you mean, sir, by speaking in that sell 
 sufficient manner and twisting your mustache in that 
 
 idiotic way ?" 
 
 16 1 stole a march on you, Bab," he answered, laugh 
 
 ing. 
 
 "Stole a march on me! You don t mean to say 
 
 that" 
 
 " Yes, I do," he interrupted. 1 spoke to him about 
 you this morning before we went to church, and asked 
 him to keep out of the way" 
 
 " You arch hypocrite ! And what did he say 3" 
 
 " You know what he did. As to what he said, the 
 general purport of it was that he would be glad to get 
 rid of you." 
 
 " So you are a party to this nefarious scheme, she 
 said to her father, as they entered the gate, and he came 
 down the path to join them. " 1 should have thought 
 that a man of your age- Oh, father !" she contin 
 ued, as he clasped her in his arms and drew her to his 
 heart, " I m so happy ; I believe I loved him all the 
 time." 
 
296 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 " And now you know you do, Bab." He held out 
 one hand to Jack while with the other he gave him 
 Barbara s hand. " Take her, my friend," he continued ; 
 " she s the greatest treasure 1 have in the world, but I 
 think she s safe in your hands." 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 REVELATIONS. 
 
 IT is safe to say that no three people in the State of 
 New York that sat down to dinner that day were hap 
 pier than our three friends. 
 
 Mr. Henschel was especially exuberant. He had had 
 a bottle of champagne put into ice, and, in his old-fash 
 ioned way, he drank the health of Jack and Barbara and 
 wished them many long years of happiness. It being 
 Sunday, dinner, as was usual in the country, was early in 
 the afternoon, and when it was over Mr. Henschel very 
 considerately announced his intention of going to his 
 own room and taking a nap. This gave Jack the oppor 
 tunity he wanted to finish what he had to say to 
 Barbara. 
 
 " I am bound in honor to tell her," he said to him 
 self, " even if I knew she would break with me the 
 next minute. I don t think she will," he continued, as 
 he looked at her admiringly, while he followed her into 
 the library. " She s such a sweet-tempered, charitable 
 darling, that she ll probably feel sorry for me and love 
 me, if possible, more than ever." 
 
 " What a good man your father is, Bab !" exclaimed 
 Jack, as the old gentleman left the room. " I don t 
 think I ever saw a finer specimen of nature s nobleman." 
 
 i For going away and leaving us alone ? inquired 
 Barbara, laughing. " There isn t any hypocrisy about 
 13* 
 
298 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 you, is there, dear ? But he s everything that s good, 
 Jack everything. I should be a bad girl if I did not 
 recognize his goodness. Of course you know that he s 
 only a Danish peasant, and I m only a peasant s daugh 
 ter." 
 
 " Oh," broke in Jack, " but such a peasant and such 
 a daughter ! Now sit down here, please, for I ve a long 
 story to tell you a sad story, a horrible story. Nothing, 
 I trust, that will make you love me any the less, but 
 one that will grieve you, as the facts have grieved 
 me." 
 
 He made room for her on the sofa, as she took the 
 vacant place by his side. 
 
 66 1 am not afraid," she said, seriously, for she saw 
 that something of moment was coming, and her thoughts 
 turned on old Mr. Oldmixon, to whom she naturally 
 thought that what Jack had to say related. " Perhaps 1 
 can anticipate a part of what you are about to say your 
 uncle is not well ?" 
 
 " No, he is not well ; but he is not, as you may think, 
 insane at least, he is not a raving maniac. I doubt very 
 much if he has been altogether sane since he was born, 
 but his insanity is not of the kind that overthrows the 
 reason, though it probably makes him do things that 
 otherwise he would not do. It would be, 1 think, a very 
 difficult undertaking to attempt to prove in a court of 
 justice that Uncle Victor is insane. There are hundreds 
 of his friends here who would come forward to swear 
 that they had never known a man with a more acute 
 mind, or one more capable of comprehension on a large 
 scale. However, dear, what I have now to say is not in 
 regard to his mind." 
 
 He put his arm around her waist and drew her toward 
 
REVELATIONS. 299 
 
 him, so that her head rested on his shoulder, and then 
 he began. 
 
 He told her of himself when a boy ; of his uncle s 
 treatment of him and preference for Hogarth ; of his 
 own early struggles and success ; of his brother s mar 
 riage ; his uncle s reconciliation ; Mrs. Hogarth Old- 
 mixon s death ; his uncle s vision, or whatever else it 
 was, at Saratoga ; of his belief that his nephew was a 
 murderer, and of his determination to bring him to justice. 
 All this the reader already knows, and it is not necessary, 
 therefore, to allude to it at greater length. 
 
 Barbara listened with the most rapt attention to 
 every word, frequently interrupting him to ask pertinent 
 questions, or to express her sympathy with Jack, as he 
 disapproved of his uncle s course. When he had got 
 through with the account of the conversation with his 
 uncle at the Lucullus Club, during which Mr. Oldmixon 
 had detailed the incidents of his vision, and declared his 
 intention of going to Annapolis and of bringing Hogarth 
 back into relations with him, Barbara s astonishment was 
 at its height. She was not in the least degree supersti 
 tious. She did not believe in omens, or presages, or 
 visions, or ghosts, or in lucky or unlucky days, but she 
 was awed by Jack s account of his uncle s real or fancied 
 experience on the lawn at Saratoga, and horrified beyond 
 measure at the violence that the old man had exhibited 
 toward his nephew. 
 
 " How prejudiced he is !" she said, raising her head 
 from Jack s shoulder, for perhaps the twentieth time, 
 to look into his face. "He is so different from you; 
 you take after your mother, don t you, Jack ?" 
 
 "Yes, 1 think I do." 
 
 u I m glad of that ; there s something very singular 
 
300 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 about your uncle. I thought so when 1 first met him, 
 and this impression was strengthened by our second 
 interview, and now it is still stronger. How horrible 
 that an uncle should be trying to fasten the crime of 
 murder on his own nephew, and to say that he would 
 like to see him hanged ! And all because of his prej 
 udice. I don t believe in his vision. 1 am sure he 
 made it all up just to have some excuse for persecuting 
 your brother, who, if wild, and not as good as he should 
 be, is certainly not the wretch your uncle would make 
 him out to be." 
 
 Jack was silent for a few minutes. He was a 
 thoroughly generous and magnanimous young man. It 
 was very painful to him to be obliged to say anything 
 that reflected on his own brother, even though it were 
 said to the woman who was now as near to him as was 
 his own heart the one that he had taken into his life as 
 a part of himself, and with whom he hoped to live in 
 happiness all the rest of his days. But he conceived 
 that it was his duty to place her in possession of all 
 facts that bore upon the character of the family into 
 which he hoped, erelong, to introduce her. That family, 
 he believed, was tainted with a tendency to insanity, 
 and perhaps disgraced by an atrocious crime committed 
 by one of its members. It might be that she, actuated 
 by prudential motives, would prefer not to marry a man 
 with such a family history as he had. He did not 
 believe that she would take any such course with him, 
 but it was possible she might, and, at any rate, the choice 
 ought to be given her. She would love him all the 
 more, perhaps, for his confidence in her reasoning 
 faculties, even if she should repel with indignation the 
 idea of separating from him. 
 
REVELATIONS. 
 
 301 
 
 " My darling," he said, as lie drew her still closer to 
 him, "you are so good yourself that it is impossible 
 for you to suspect the existence of evil in others. It 
 may be that a great crime has been committed. You 
 shall hear what further I have to tell you, and then you 
 will be able to judge for yourself. 
 
 " We went to Annapolis, as my uncle had arranged, 
 and we stopped at the same hotel at which Hogarth and 
 his wife had stopped. It was late when we arrived, so 
 we did nothing that night toward the investigation of 
 the matter of my uncle s vision ; but the next morning 
 Uncle Yictor went into the office, and 1 with him, and 
 we had a long conversation with the clerk. Of course 
 nothing was said relative to my uncle s suspicions. He 
 told who he was and the clerk had suspected that we 
 were relatives as soon as he had read our names in the 
 register and of course it was natural that we should 
 evince an interest in all the circumstances connected with 
 the awful tragedy that a few days before had occurred 
 
 at the hotel. 
 
 " We found at once that the sympathies of the clerk 
 were strongly with Hogarth. Nothing, so far as we could 
 learn, could have been more decorous than my brother s 
 conduct on the occasion, and no one had ever shown more 
 poignant grief." 
 
 " Oh, Jack, could he possibly have been guilty?" 
 exclaimed Barbara. " I cannot believe it! It is too 
 horrible a thought for me to conceive. It would have 
 been such a monstrous and so utterly inhuman a crime 
 that I cannot think it possible." 
 
 Jack said nothing in answer to this outburst of emo 
 tion, but as he went on his voice trembled and became 
 more husky. 
 
302 MR. OLDMIXOX. 
 
 . " Did Mrs. Oldmixon, asked my uncle, have no 
 premonitory symptoms of disease ? Was she well all 
 through that day up to the time of her death ? 
 
 " They arrived here the night before, answered 
 the clerk, ; and ate a hearty supper. Mrs. Oldmixon 
 expressed a desire to take a walk, and though it was 
 after nine o clock, her husband at once got ready to go 
 with her. He was devoted to her. But then, he added, 
 with a smile, they had been just married. They 
 were only gone a few minutes ; they had walked up to 
 the church and then around the circle, and had come 
 straight back to the hotel. It was all she saw of An 
 napolis, for the next day it rained in torrents. : 
 
 As Jack uttered these words Barbara gave a start and 
 turned pale. " Oh, Jack," she exclaimed, as she jumped 
 up from the sofa in her excitement, " that is exactly as 
 your uncle saw it in his vision." 
 
 "Yes, dear ; sit down and hear the rest." 
 
 " No, I cannot sit down ; 1 am too much excited. I 
 must walk. Go on, please." 
 
 " As the clerk spoke these words, my uncle gave 
 me a significant look, as much as to say, This is the 
 first point. 
 
 " l May we see the rooms that my poor niece occu 
 pied ? inquired my uncle ; we would like to spend 
 a few minutes alone in them. It would be a melancholy 
 pleasure for us to see the place where she met such an 
 untimely death ! 
 
 " The clerk called a servant. Show these gentlemen 
 to No. 22, he said." 
 
 ""What!" said Barbara, "the same number that 
 your uncle mentioned ! Oh," she continued, covering 
 her face with her hands, " I know what is coming. It 
 
REVELATIONS. 303 
 
 was true, everything was just as your uncle saw it ! My 
 poor Jack !" throwing her arms around his neck and 
 bursting into tears as she lay on his breast. " I cannot 
 tell you how much I feel for you, but you will know. 
 And that poor woman ! Oh, did he really kill her ?" 
 
 Jack was too much overcome to answer. His voice 
 was choked and the tears were streaming down his 
 cheeks. The two "ninnies," some people may call 
 them but very human for all that : and is not the world 
 mainly made up of " ninnies," in all their varieties ? 
 stood for some time clasped in each other s arms. Jack 
 did his best to soothe Barbara, and she was equally 
 assiduous in calming him. The shock was over. She 
 was in a great measure prepared for what was to come, 
 and she had not faltered in her love, and, what was 
 more, very evidently did not intend to falter. After 
 a little while both became sufficiently composed to admit 
 of the one telling the remainder of his story and of the 
 other listening. 
 
 " "We were shown up to the rooms, and, dismissing the 
 servant, we entered. A glance was sufficient to show 
 us, as we stood with the plans in our hands that Uncle 
 Yictor had drawn, that the rooms and the articles of 
 furniture and the arrangements were exactly as we had 
 them before us. There was the window at which 
 Hogarth had stood, there the table in the centre of the 
 room, there the chair in which his wife had been rock 
 ing herself, there every other article of furniture in the 
 sitting-room, in the identical positions in which we had 
 them on our diagrams. 
 
 " It is the same, said my uncle in a low but emphatic 
 voice. Everything is, as you see, precisely as we have 
 it liere ; and there, he continued, as he pointed toward 
 
304 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 it, is the door through which he carried his poor wife 
 to her death. Come, Jack, lie went on, i follow me 
 into the next room ; there you will see the bed upon 
 which he laid her, and the pillow with which he 
 smothered the life out of her. 
 
 " I went with him," resumed Jack, after there had 
 been a little more comforting on both sides, " and there, 
 sure enough, was everything exactly as we had it on our 
 plans. Of course I was both astounded and horrified 
 by the revelations of facts that were brought so vividly 
 and truthfully before me. I did not know what to 
 think. I had 110 precedent to which the experience 
 through which I was then passing could be compared. 
 I could only drop into a chair and cover my face with 
 my hands so as to shut out the fearful images around 
 me. 
 
 "But I could not dissipate the thoughts that were 
 passing through my mind, or banish the picture of the 
 awful deed as it had been described by Uncle Victor. 
 Over and over again the scene was enacted before my 
 mental eyes. 1 saw Hogarth standing at the window ; 
 then turn and seize his wife, his face distorted by the 
 most frightful passion ; then hurry with her to the next 
 room, while she struggled to free herself from the grasp 
 that she probably knew, from the look in his eyes, was 
 meant to end in her death ; then his throwing her on the 
 bed and suffocating her with the pillow, without giving 
 her the mercy of even a single breath. I trust 1 may 
 never again have such images in my mind. They stuck 
 to me for several days and nights, until 1 thought I 
 should go wild. Indeed, my darling, it was the sight 
 of your dear face yesterday in the car that finally sent 
 them away, I hope, forever. 
 
EEVELATIONS. 305 
 
 Barbara made the customary response to this state 
 ment, and, after a short delay, not improper under the 
 circumstances, Jack again took up the thread of his 
 discourse. 
 
 " My uncle acted with the utmost coolness and delib 
 eration ; only once did he break down, and that was 
 when he saw the bed upon which he firmly believed a 
 murderous deed had been done. Then he fell on his 
 knees before the bed and remained for several minutes 
 with his head bowed upon it. Kising suddenly to his 
 feet, he swore the most solemn oath, that there should 
 be a life for a life, even if he himself had to be the 
 avenger. 
 
 "I can scarcely realize it all," said Barbara, 
 seems too horrible for belief, that your brother would 
 commit so awful a crime. And I cannot and will not 
 believe it. Is there no escape from the conclusion which 
 at first sight appears to be the only one to be drawn ?" 
 
 " Now, let us try and get the matter before us in a logi 
 cal way," said Jack, putting on an impressive manner. 
 " My uncle describes to me rooms and furniture and 
 arrangements, the ideas of which, he tells me, were given 
 to him in a mysterious manner as he sat on the lawn at 
 Saratoga. It would be too great a tax upon our faith in 
 chance to say that the points of his vision and the 
 actual facts as we found them at Annapolis agree merely 
 through the accidental coincidence of a dream with 
 reality. The items of agreement are too many for that 
 alternative. So that, if we admit that my uncle told the 
 truth as regards his vision or dream, or whatever else you 
 choose to call it, we are bound to admit further that there 
 is a strong probability of the truth of those parts that 
 have not yet been confirmed," 
 
306 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 " Yes, it would seem so." 
 
 " It is therefore, after all, a question of probabilities, 
 and only of probabilities, even if we accept my uncle s 
 assertions in their entirety. Nevertheless, the probabil 
 ities are so strong as to amount almost to a demonstra 
 tion." 
 
 " I m afraid that is so, Jack," replied Barbara, 
 musingly. 
 
 " But now," continued Jack, becoming still more 
 emphatic, " suppose that there is not a word of truth to 
 my uncle s story, what then ?" 
 
 " Jack !" 
 
 Yes, I say, suppose there is no truth whatever in the 
 account he gave me, what then ? It was possible for 
 him to have heard while he was at Saratoga of the death 
 of Hogarth s wife ; to have gone to Annapolis, to have 
 ascertained all about the matter the rooms, the articles 
 of furniture and their positions on the floors to have 
 taken the clerk into his confidence, and then to have 
 come back to New York and to have concocted this 
 story of a vision or of some other supernatural perform 
 ance. I am sorry to say, from what I know of him, 
 that I think he is entirely capable of doing all that for 
 the purpose of avenging himself on Hogarth, who, he 
 imagines, has terribly injured him." 
 
 " Is it possible, Jack, that he would commit so dis 
 honorable an act ?" 
 
 " I think it quite possible ; though, at the same time, 
 I am bound to say that 1 don t think he did. It is easier, 
 however, for me to believe that such was his conduct 
 than to believe in the story of the supernatural that he 
 has related. It is only giving Hogarth the benefit of 
 the doubt in a reasonable and just way ; and until I know 
 
REVELATIONS. 307 
 
 that Uncle Victor did not leave Saratoga, and that he 
 had no communication with Annapolis, I shall hold my 
 belief in abeyance. 
 
 " That is right ; we will not believe your brother to 
 be a murderer till we have something more than your 
 uncle s word for it till, in fact, we have investigated 
 him. Is that what you mean, Jack ?" 
 
 " Something like that. 1 shall run up to Saratoga to 
 morrow and find out all 1 can in regard to his move 
 ments while he was there, and especially as to whether 
 or not he left Saratoga at any time. If, as he says, he 
 called out for help, the women that came to him will, of 
 course, recollect the fact. Now, dear, I have only a little 
 more to tell. We came back from Annapolis over 
 whelmed with the weight of the information we had 
 obtained, but Uncle Victor was very quiet. He seemed 
 to be lost in thought over what had occurred and in 
 endeavoring to determine upon his future course. On 
 our arrival in New York, he drove at once to his 
 residence, making no allusions when we parted to what 
 1 knew was filling his mind, but merely requesting me 
 to call and see him in the morning at as early an hour as 
 possible. I went, and then he told me that he had writ 
 ten to Hogarth requesting him to let bygones be bygones, 
 and to come and live in his house. You see, Jack, he 
 said, I know that he killed my poor Camilla, but my 
 knowledge is not the knowledge for a jury. I m going 
 to wring the confession out of him, and to do that I am 
 obliged to dissemble. Remember, he went on, that, as 
 1 told you before, he s a basilisk, and the only animal that 
 can destroy a basilisk is a weasel, and I m the weasel 
 in this case. The weasel, in the days when there were 
 basilisks, made use of its cunning as its principal offen- 
 
308 MR. OLDMIXO^S". 
 
 sive weapon, just as it does now when it attacks chicken- 
 coops. I have to do the same thing. If I did not, the 
 scoundrel would escape me, and that he never shall. 
 
 " It was in vain that 1 remonstrated ; I left him more 
 angry with me than he had been since our reconciliation, 
 for I told him that I would not enter his house while 
 Hogarth was there. 1 acted thus not only because my 
 uncle was playing the part of a traitor, but for the reason 
 also that I did not care to resume friendly relations with 
 Hogarth after he had for so many years treated me with 
 neglect and contumely." 
 
 " You were right, Jack dear," said Barbara, "both 
 your reasons are good ones." 
 
 " Thanks ! 1 am glad you think so. As matters now 
 stand, Hogarth is apparently reinstated in his uncle s 
 regards, and I am again discarded. 1 saw on the table 
 the draft of what looked like a new will. He will 
 execute this, show it to Hogarth, and thus, as he said, 
 make him believe that he is the heir. 
 
 " That is all, my darling," continued Jack. " I 
 thought it right that you should know that the family of 
 the man that you have promised to marry is a tainted 
 one, that the man s brother is suspected of having mur 
 dered his wife, and that he may end his days on a gal 
 lows. You may, therefore, if you marry me, live to see 
 the day on which your brother-in-law will be hanged by 
 the neck till he is dead. It is not a pleasant prospect," 
 he went on bitterly, " and I should not blame you if, 
 now that you know the truth, you should decline the 
 honor of an alliance with a family with such a blurred 
 escutcheon as ours." 
 
 Of course this was all talk on Jack s part. He knew 
 very well that Barbara was not the kind of a woman to 
 
EEVELATIONS. 309 
 
 give up her lover for another s sins or crimes, but he 
 wanted to receive the assurance of her devotion and 
 constancy, and it is needless to say that he got them. 
 
 The next morning he escorted Barbara into town, and 
 always afterward met her at the station and went with 
 her to Mr. Maurice s studio, calling for her again in the 
 afternoon and seeing her safely on the train. In this 
 way he managed to meet her twice every day, to his and 
 her unmitigated delight. On Saturdays he went to 
 Lasata with her, passing Sundays in her company, and 
 every day loving her, if possible, more devotedly than 
 he had the previous day. It was determined that their 
 marriage should take place early in the following March, 
 and that the newly married couple should, as Mr. Hen- 
 schel insisted, make the old manor-house their home. 
 There was therefore going to be ample work for Barbara 
 and her father in fitting up the additional rooms that 
 would be required. 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 "BY HEAVEN! THAT TOUCHED HIM." 
 
 MK. OLDMIXON sat in a revolving cliair in front of a 
 table loaded with books and papers. The room was his 
 library, for Mr. Oldmixon was a man of literary and 
 scientific tastes, which it was a pleasure to him to gratify, 
 and which accordingly he did gratify to the extent of his 
 power. He had always been a self -indulgent man, but as 
 his tendencies had never been toward dissipation or im 
 morality, the results of yielding to them had been favor 
 able both to his mind and his body. At one time he had 
 had serious thoughts of turning his attention to authorship, 
 and many years before he is introduced to the reader had 
 written several short stories and one novel. The former 
 had, after some trouble in finding a medium for bringing 
 them before the public, been accepted by a magazine 
 which, a short time after publishing them, had gone the 
 way of many of its predecessors, and been heard of no 
 more. The channel for his lucubrations was therefore 
 closed, and this fact had acted in so dispiriting a manner on 
 Mr. Oldmixon, that he gave up authorship and turned his 
 attention to reading and to the cultivation of gastronomic 
 science. In order to indulge himself to the full in the 
 new directions in which lie had looked, he required 
 two things a library and a kitchen and he had at once, 
 with such knowledge of the necessities of the occasion as 
 he possessed, and without advice from any one, set out to 
 
"BY HEAVEN! THAT TOUCHED HIM." 311 
 
 supply himself. Relative to the library he knew tolerably 
 well what he wanted. The first thing, of course, was a 
 room ; and not having a suitable one in his house, he had 
 built an addition, which, when he had finished it and 
 stocked it with books to the number of over ten thousand, 
 he declared was the most complete private library for a 
 non-professional gentleman, such as was he, to be found 
 anywhere within the limits of the United States. " It s 
 not so big as some I ve seen," he said one day to a dis 
 tinguished gentleman to whom he was exhibiting his ac 
 cumulations, " but it contains some of the rarest literary 
 treasures to be found on the earth. I never bay any edi 
 tion of an old book but the first. I have seventy Elzevirs, 
 taller than any others to be found, and one hundred and 
 twenty-three vellum Aldine editiones principes. You 
 see, I ve been all over the world ; I knew just where to 
 go to get my treasures. Do you see this Aldus ?" 
 
 " What ?" asked the distinguished gentleman, who had 
 been the governor of one of the States, and was then a 
 Cabinet Minister. 
 
 " This Aldus." 
 
 " 1 should call it a book," observed the distinguished 
 gentleman, taking it into his hands and turning it over 
 and over. 
 
 " Of course it s a book," said Mr. Oldmixon, in a tone 
 of disgust, " but it happens to be a copy of the first edi 
 tion of Martial, printed by Aldus in the year 1501. As 
 you see, it s printed on vellum. It is one of five known 
 to exist, and it cost me just three hundred and fifty 
 dollars." 
 
 The distinguished gentleman threw up his hands in as 
 tonishment. " Three hundred and fifty dollars for that 
 little book ! What a waste of money !" 
 
312 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 "Not at all, sir," replied Mr. Oldmixon, a little irri 
 tated by tlie disparaging speech of his friend ; " books 
 like this double in value every ten years. 1 expect to live 
 twenty years yet, so that when I die and my library 
 comes to be sold by my unappreciative heir, this little 
 book will sell for exactly three thousand dollars. Not a 
 bad investment, is it, even from your point of view ? You 
 wouldn t be likely to make as much out of a farm in 
 Minnesota, would you ? You ve heard of ./Esop, I sup 
 pose?" he continued, in a rather contemptuous tone. 
 
 " Oh, yes, the man that wrote the fables." 
 
 " The same. "Well, here s a copy of the first printed 
 Latin edition of his book. Look at it look at it ! Did 
 you ever see anything more beautiful in all your life ? 
 What paper, what ink, what a register ! Now, look at 
 the colophon, and you will see that it was printed at 
 Milan, in the year 1474 three hundred and two years be 
 fore the Declaration of Independence, and more than four 
 hundred years from this day." 
 
 " I can t read a word of it," said the distinguished 
 gentleman, turning over the leaves, and laughing heartily. 
 
 " Of course you can t. There are two impediments 
 to your doing so. In the first place, it s printed in Lat 
 in ; and in the second place, it s printed in Gothic black 
 letter." 
 
 " Very fine, I ve no doubt, but I can buy a better copy 
 for a quarter." 
 
 " If you wanted to read it, yes. But that copy cost 
 eight hundred francs seven years ago. It s worth about 
 fourteen hundred now say two hundred and eighty 
 dollars. But I see you don t appreciate these things. 
 Here s a copy of Smith s Life of Andrew Jackson. 
 Observe the beautiful chromo-lithographs of the old 
 
"BY HEAVEN! THAT TOUCHED HIM." 313 
 
 hero, he went on, with an ironical expression in his 
 voice that the distinguished gentleman, had he been ob 
 servant, would have quickly detected. " See with what 
 consummate skill the artist printer I should have said 
 has colored the hair and cheeks and uniform of the 
 gallant general ! Is it not a beautiful production ?" 
 
 "Splendid! I must have a copy of that. General 
 Jackson has no more devoted admirer than myself." 
 
 " Take that copy, I beg of you. Smith presented it 
 to me, but I shall feel highly honored by your accept 
 ance of it, and," he added to himself, " I shall be devil 
 ish glad to get the vile book out of my library." 
 
 With his novel, however, Mr. Oldmixon had not been 
 so successful as with his library. In fact, beyond the 
 accomplishment of the work of writing it, he had not 
 been successful at all . He had submitted it to a few lit 
 erary friends, and they had unanimously decided against 
 publication one going so far as to say that he had 
 never read a worse novel, unless it was u The Dwellers 
 in Five Sisters Court," that one Mudder had written. 
 In such matters friends are very much like a council 
 of war. The latter always advise against fighting, and 
 the former always advise against publishing. 
 
 Then he had taken it first to one publishing house, 
 and then to another, and each one had some reason for 
 not desiring to bring it before the public, that the author 
 was sure was eagerly waiting to snap it up, edition after 
 edition. One thought it "too realistic" and another 
 " not sufficiently realistic for this matter-of-fact world," 
 while others simply sent it back with thanks, but regret 
 ting that their " readers" had advised against publication. 
 One house had offered the use of their imprint, if he 
 would pay all the expenses of publication, and give fifty 
 U 
 
314 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 per cent of the retail price for their trouble in placing 
 it in the market ; but this proposition Mr.Oldmixon had 
 indignantly declined, saying that he was an author, not 
 a publisher. 
 
 Then, declaring that the pirates meaning thereby pub 
 lishers had entered into a combination to keep his 
 novel from appearing before the world, he took his man 
 uscript and locked it up, asserting that he would not 
 look at it again for twenty years, and that then he should 
 publish it without doubt, as all the houses that now re 
 fused it would be ready to tear each other s eyes out for 
 the honor of having their firm-names associated with 
 his. 
 
 But with his kitchen he was at first the recipient of 
 more disappointment and misfortune than generally fall 
 to the lot of a person that enters upon culinary opera 
 tions. If he had known nothing about the theory of the 
 subject, and had had the palate of a clodhopper, he 
 would undoubtedly have gotten along very well ; but 
 with the knowledge he had gained by reading, and by 
 eating many good dinners in various parts of the world, 
 and, above all, by the high state of development into 
 which he had brought his gustatory nerves, his experience 
 in the kitchen was at first anything but satisfactory. 
 The man that does not know what good cooking is can 
 always cook to suit himself. Mr. Oldmixon did know 
 what it was, and hence his deficiency in technical knowl 
 edge was the cause to him of much vexation of spirit. 
 
 Nevertheless, he persevered, and at last hired a chef of 
 the highest celebrity to give him lessons in the culinary 
 art. The first step taken by this eminent possessor of 
 the cordon lieu was to demand that a kitchen be built as 
 an addition to the house, insisting that the basement 
 
" BY HEAVEN! THAT TOUCHED HIM." 315 
 
 hitherto used was altogether unfitted, by lack of air and 
 light, for the occupancy of a true artist, such as he con 
 sidered himself to be. Moreover, the library, a far less 
 important affair than a kitchen, had had a building es 
 pecially erected for it, and the department over which he 
 was to preside should be equally favored. So, at an ex 
 pense of several thousand dollars, an addition was built 
 and was fitted up in accordance with the wishes of the 
 gentleman who had condescended to act in the capacity 
 of teacher to Mr. Oldrnixon. 
 
 And a perfect affair of its kind it was, with its Paris 
 ian range, its bright copper saucepans, its marble mortar, 
 and all the other utensils devised by ingenious inventors 
 and needed for the various complicated processes neces 
 sary in the preparation of the delectable compounds that 
 an advanced civilization has discovered. Here for three 
 hours every day Mr. Oldmixori took lessons, until at the 
 end of the year he had become as fully an accomplished 
 culinary artist as the chef, his instructor. It was here, 
 after he had acquired all that this eminent individual 
 could teach him, that he had performed the experiments 
 in gastronomic science that had given him such a high 
 position with gourmands throughout the civilized world. 
 It is scarcely necessary to add that it was here that he 
 had developed the capabilities of the frog s liver, and had 
 established the fact that at least a dozen wonderful 
 dishes could be compounded with it for their basis. 
 
 As stated in the beginning of this chapter, Mr. Old- 
 mixon was seated in his library in front of a table cov 
 ered with books and papers. He was deeply engaged 
 in perusing a voluminous manuscript that lay before 
 him, and from time to time making corrections in its 
 text. These latter appeared to be of a very extensive 
 
316 ME. OLDMIXOX. 
 
 character, for not only did he erase and interline on 
 almost every page, but not infrequently he cut out with 
 a big pair of scissors large slips from the pages, and 
 occasionally destroyed several pages in one lot, substitut 
 ing new matter for that that he threw into the waste- 
 paper basket. The twenty years had expired, and this 
 was the novel that he had that long time ago laid aside, 
 and which he was now revising, with the intention of 
 again offering it to a publisher. 
 
 But he had very materially modified the determina 
 tion which twenty years ago he had expressed. Then 
 he had asserted that he would offer his book for publica 
 tion on the termination of the period mentioned with 
 out the changing of a sentence, a word, or even a punc 
 tuation-mark, and that the fraternity that supplies the 
 world with literary pabulum would eagerly strive for 
 the honor of spreading his production over the land. 
 He had, as I say, changed his intention, for now he was 
 making alterations so extensive that it looked very much 
 as though he were reconstructing the manuscript from 
 the beginning to the end. 
 
 He had been engaged in this work since nine o clock, 
 and it was now nearly one. He looked at the table 
 clock before him, and then, apparently surprised at the 
 rapid flight of time, gathered his papers together, and 
 putting them into a drawer, locked it and hid the key on 
 one of the library shelves behind the books, or rather 
 behind a particular book, the title of which he had in 
 his pocket. He was obliged to resort to this mnemonic 
 device, for his memory, as he advanced in years, was 
 becoming treacherous. It now wanted five minutes of 
 one. Mr. Oldmixon took up a volume from the table 
 and began its perusal, seating himself in an arm-chair 
 
" BY HEAVEN ! THAT TOUCHED HIM." 317 
 
 big enough to hold two like him, and throwing his head 
 back till it was supported on the luxuriously cushioned 
 surface behind, at that angle that was most conducive 
 to the comfort of its possessor. Every now and then 
 he glanced at the clock, as though counting the minutes 
 that would elapse before some expected event. At last 
 the hands on the dial indicated one o clock, and almost 
 at the very moment there was a knock on the door. Mr. 
 Oldrnixon said " Come in," at the same time redoub 
 ling his attention to the book he held in his hand, so that 
 the visitor had taken several steps into the room before 
 the old gentleman suddenly became aware of his presence, 
 and throwing the volume on the table, held out his hand. 
 " Punctual to the minute, my dear boy ; that s what 
 I like to see. Your married life, short as it was, seems 
 to have improved you. Ah, my dear Hogarth, if she 
 had only lived, what a splendid fellow she d have made 
 of you in time !" 
 
 " Yes, Uncle Victor," answered Hogarth, in tones the 
 lugubriousness of which would have moved an anchorite 
 to tears, and which really appeared to have that effect 
 on Mr. Oldmixon, as he hastily took out his handker 
 chief and applied it to his eyes" yes, uncle, she is a 
 great loss to me. Although I think 1 appreciated her 
 while she lived, I never knew all that she was worth to 
 me till she was dead. I think if you had not again 
 taken me into your favor I should have terminated my 
 own existence." 
 
 " Ah ! Well, well, death has to come in some form or 
 other to all of us, and those whom the gods love die 
 young. But don t talk of suicide ! You make me 
 tremble, lest, in some one of your despairing moments, 
 you should be tempted to put an end to your existence." 
 
318 MR. OLDMIXON". 
 
 Mr. Oldmixon was sitting in front of the mantel mir 
 ror, as was also Hogarth. By looking into the glass, the 
 old gentleman could see the reflection of his nephew s 
 face without appearing to be regarding it. In fact, 
 he had arranged the chairs with direct reference to this 
 matter ; and as he intended that every day at one o clock 
 his nephew should pay him a visit, he expected to be 
 able to study at his leisure, and with the advantage of 
 not being suspected, a face that he had resolved should 
 be made to respond to the mental tortures he should 
 inflict. 
 
 "I sometimes feel tired of life," said Hogarth, 
 moodily ; " I had looked forward to many happy years of 
 
 existence with the woman I loved, and then to have " 
 
 "Yes, it is very hard," interrupted Mr. Oldmixon. 
 " I wonder if she suffered much in dying?" he contin 
 ued, looking into the mirror as he spoke ; " it is said that 
 in some of these heart and lung diseases the agony is 
 very acute. Now," he thought, " if the scoundrel has 
 any feeling at all I shall perceive it." 
 
 But Hogarth remained quite unmoved under this 
 attack. " I do not think she could have had any pain 
 at all," lie answered, coolly; " she probably died in 
 her sleep." 
 
 I have just been reading here," continued Mr. Old 
 mixon, still looking in the glass at Hogarth, " that con 
 gestion of the lungs produces a sensation of suffocation, 
 and from the little 1 know of that process it is painful. 
 I was once nearly suffocated." " By Heaven !" he con 
 tinued to himself, "that touched him." And it had 
 touched him, for at the reference to suffocation Ho 
 garth s face had become several shades paler, and he had 
 moved uneasily on his chair. 
 
"BY HEAVEN! THAT TOUCHED HIM." 319 
 
 " I did did not know that you had ever been nearly 
 su f su f " he stammered. 
 
 " Suffocated !" exclaimed Mr. Oldmixon. " It is a 
 rather difficult word to pronounce, but I never knew 
 you to stammer before. You are weak and nervous, my 
 boy. Say smothered instead ; it is a good deal easier, 
 and more appropriate. Yes, I was once nearly smoth 
 ered." 
 
 Again Hogarth was moved. He glanced furtively 
 at his uncle, and the corners of his mouth twitched a 
 little, as though he were endeavoring to control himself. 
 He did not care to talk about the subject that Mr. 
 Oldmixon had introduced, and yet he felt that if he did 
 not ask for further information he would run the risk 
 of exciting surprise in the mind of his uncle, and that 
 this feeling might easily lead to the development of 
 some other emotion suspicion, perhaps. Still he re 
 mained silent so long that Mr. Oldmixon turned toward 
 him, and repeated the assertion. 
 
 "Yes," he said, "I was once nearly smothered. 
 Don t you care to hear about it ?" 
 
 " Certainly," answered Hogarth, with an attempt at 
 a laugh, " although such things are not pleasant subjects 
 of conversation. How was it ?" 
 
 " I was a young man at the time, not quite your 
 present age, and was walking through a trench that had 
 been dug for the purpose of receiving pipes for a water- 
 supply. The sides were about eight feet high, and 
 were not supported by boards, as they ought to have 
 been. Suddenly one side caved in just opposite to 
 where 1 was standing, and I was completely covered by 
 the falling earth. I at once felt the most severe pain 
 in my head, and at the same time a sensation of burning 
 
320 MR. OLDMIXO^. 
 
 in my chest, as though there was a fiery furnace there. 
 But these physical sufferings were nothing to what I 
 experienced mentally. I had the idea that some one 
 was sitting on my chest, and thereby preventing the 
 access of air ! I thought I struggled with this mur 
 derer with all the strength I had, but I could not shake 
 him off. There he continued to sit, grinning with 
 diabolical malice at my feeble attempts to get rid of 
 him attempts that I felt were every moment becom 
 ing more and more futile. Then 1 lost consciousness, 
 and when 1 came to myself 1 was lying on the bed in 
 my own house. Some men had seen the caving in of 
 the earth, and had come to my assistance. I was buried 
 nearly five minutes. The doctor said that a minute 
 longer would have been fatal, as there was no instance 
 on record of a suffocated person living five minutes." 
 
 Mr. Oldmixon spoke all this in an indifferent sort of 
 a tone, as though he were telling some commonplace 
 incident ; but he nevertheless did not fail to keep his 
 eyes on Hogarth through the medium of the mirror. 
 To his great disappointment, his nephew exhibited no 
 emotion whatever beyond a sort of languid interest, 
 perfectly explainable by the fact that the sufferer was 
 his uncle. He had recovered his composure. His mind 
 was now on the alert, and he did not mean to allow his 
 emotions to run away with him if he could help it. He 
 knew that this was his weak point, and that he had noth 
 ing to fear except from himself ; and he was aware of the 
 fact that if he wanted to prevent his exposure, he must 
 learn to restrain the manifestation of his feelings when 
 suffocation and smothering were the subjects of conver 
 sation. He was sensible that he had, when his uncle be 
 gan to talk, allowed his face to express the fear he felt ; 
 
"BY HEAVEN! THAT TOUCHED HIM." 321 
 
 but he did not believe that this had been noticed. The 
 more he reflected upon the matter, the more he was con 
 vinced that his uncle could not possibly have any pur 
 pose in view not apparent in his words. Why should 
 he have ? What information could he possess relative 
 to the crime that had been committed ? All the knowl 
 edge of the act was locked up in his own heart, and 
 there he intended to keep it. He was safe absolutely 
 safe, he thought, and he would show the world that he 
 could talk of smothering with as composed an air as the 
 judge on the bench or as the physician making a post 
 mortem examination. 
 
 " I am surprised," he said, with perfect coolness, 
 "that you should have felt any pain. 1 have always 
 been under the impression that that mode of death was 
 rather pleasant than otherwise." Then, moved by a 
 spirit of bravado that he could not resist, he added, 
 with a little laugh, " If I were going to kill a man I 
 think I should suffocate him. " 
 
 " Or a woman ?" inquired Mr. Oldmixon, with entire 
 nonchalance. " Would you kill a woman in the same 
 way ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, I suppose so," answered Hogarth, rising 
 from his chair this time, for this blow was a little more 
 than he had expected, and he felt that he must hide his 
 face. "What would be pleasant for a man would be 
 equally so for a woman. I hardly think that there is 
 any difference in the power to feel in the two sexes. 
 
 " Probably not," said Mr. Oldmixon, dryly ; " and I 
 see, from a work on medical jurisprudence that I have 
 here, that the post-mortem evidences of death from 
 smothering that was the word, I think, we agreed to use 
 are very uncertain, and that no positive opinion on the 
 
 U* 
 
322 ME. OLDMIXOtf. 
 
 subject could be given by the most accomplished phy 
 sician, unless he had some knowledge of the attendant 
 circumstances. Therefore, my dear Hogarth, it would 
 appear that you would choose well ; for unless you had 
 quarrelled with the lady or had done something else to 
 excite suspicion against you, you would be absolutely 
 safe." 
 
 Hogarth stood at the window, w T ith his back to Mr. 
 Oldmixon, while the latter was delivering these remarks, 
 so that his face was invisible ; but his uncle knew that 
 this shot told, for he could see his whole frame tremble, 
 his head fall toward his chest, and his fingers clutch spas 
 modically at the palms of his hands. 
 
 Hogarth was in reality completely stunned by this 
 onslaught. He could not speak. He began to think 
 that his uncle must have some knowledge of his crime, 
 and already the idea suggested itself to him that if 
 smothering were so safe an act for the criminal, why 
 not try it on this man, who, purposely or ignorantly, 
 was torturing his soul ? It was a question to be deeply 
 pondered. Certainly, however, this was not the time 
 to make the attempt, when it was known to several 
 persons that he was in his uncle s library. There was a 
 time for all things, and doubtless there would be an op 
 portunity for the deed he contemplated when it could 
 be perpetrated without suspicion attaching to him. 
 
 As for Mr. Oldmixon, he sat and watched his nephew 
 as he stood with his back to him. He saw the involuntary 
 contraction of the fingers, produced by the emotion and 
 the thought that at the moment swayed him. " The 
 scoundrel is contemplating smothering me," he said to 
 himself. " That is just the way his fingers twitched 
 before he killed his wife." 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE TORTURE IS CONTINUED. 
 
 MR. OLDMIXON S house was a large one, and there was, 
 tlieref ore, ample room in it for Hogarth. His uncle had 
 given him the whole of the third floor, consisting of 
 four large rooms, with their appurtenances. 
 
 No one could have been more surprised than was 
 Hogarth when he received his uncle s letter, stating 
 that he regretted that he had required his lawyer to 
 write the communication that had been sent to Annap 
 olis, that he should make a new will, similar in its pro 
 visions to the first, and that the change in his disposition 
 had been effected by knowledge that had come to him 
 that he had been mistaken in regard to certain circum 
 stances that had influenced him to break with his 
 nephew. 
 
 Hogarth had at once obeyed the command to call 
 on him that Mr. Oldmixon gave, and also the further 
 direction to live in the same house with him. The 
 warmth of his reception convinced him of its reality, and 
 he now saw his way clear to the acquisition of his uncle s 
 estate, an event which, he was assured, could not be very 
 long delayed. Certainly the old gentleman had begun 
 to show within the last few weeks the inroads that his 
 advanced age was making on his constitution. 
 
 "A month or two longer," thought Hogarth, as he 
 looked at him, " and then all will be mine." 
 
ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 He had asked for no explanation of liis uncle s course 
 toward him. He was back in his old place, and appar 
 ently more fixed than ever, and that was enough for 
 him. Inquiry might provoke discussion, and he was 
 too wise a man to raise issues that were unnecessary and 
 the outcome of which no one could predict. Things 
 were well enough as they were, and he was one of those 
 men that " let well enough alone." lie had only been 
 an inmate of his uncle s house two days when the in 
 terview, the particulars of which are given in the im 
 mediately foregoing chapter, took place. It was the 
 first time that Mr. Oldmixon had opened his batteries, 
 and, upon the whole, he was well satisfied with the result. 
 He had made an impression on his enemy, and that, 
 under the circumstances, was a good deal. However, 
 he had done this with his small guns guns that were not 
 intended to do more than to harass and worry, without 
 inflicting any serious damage. After he had bombarded 
 with them for a few weeks, and had gotten his man into 
 a state of semi-insanity, he would make use of his 
 heavier ammunition, and he did not doubt that the 
 result would be in accordance with his wishes. The 
 climax would come. In what exact form, of course he 
 did not know ; but it would be sufficiently decisive. 
 
 For a moment, occasionally, he felt some slight degree 
 of pity for his victim. To be subject, day after day, to 
 the influence of reminders of his crime, made in the 
 most insinuating and apparently most innocent way, 
 without the shadow of an object that could be perceived, 
 was in itself a terrible punishment. Mr. Oldmixon was 
 sufficiently well acquainted w r ith the kind of nervous 
 organization possessed by the Oldmixons by all within 
 his knowledge, except Jack to know just what the 
 
THE TOKTTTKE IS CONTINUED. 325 
 
 effect of such continual reiteration would be. He had 
 only to examine into his own nature a little in order to 
 freshen his ideas on the subject and to convince himself 
 that Hogarth had already begun to pay the penalty of 
 his crime. Occasionally, as I have said, a little gleam 
 of pity for his nephew would sweep through his mind ; 
 but one thought of what Camilla had suffered was suffi 
 cient to dissipate this feeling and to nerve him for fresh 
 attempts in the direction of avenging her wrongs. 
 
 Several days elapsed after the incident recorded in 
 the previous chapter before anything very notable oc 
 curred, though there was not one in which Mr. Old- 
 mixon did not, though in the most ingenious and ap 
 parently unsophisticated way, make some allusion to 
 suffocation as a means of causing death. Sometimes it 
 was by one way, and sometimes by another. 
 
 "By the by, Hogarth," he said one morning, when 
 they were at breakfast he took his meals at home now, 
 for Hogarth, not being a member of the Lucullus Club, 
 could not enjoy the privileges of the institution " did 
 you read that account of the curious way in which a 
 peasant in France killed his wife ?" 
 
 "I suppose he suffocated her," answered Hogarth, 
 crossly ; that mode of murder seems to be running in 
 your mind pretty strongly now, Uncle Victor. " 
 
 " It is, my dear boy, it is ! But did we not agree 
 that you should use the word smothered ? I remem 
 ber that the first time I introduced the subject you 
 could not readily pronounce the word * suffocated. 
 Now you rattle it ofl: as though you had been practis 
 ing it. You didn t use to stammer before your mar 
 riage ; but listen to my story. It certainly does present 
 the most original method of smothering that I ever 
 
326 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 heard of. The man, a small farmer, quarrelled with his 
 wife ; so what does he do but pick her up in his arms 
 and carry her into the next room, where there was a 
 corn-bin full of nice clean yellow corn, and plunge her 
 head foremost into the mass of grain ! There he held 
 her for five minutes, notwithstanding her struggles, and 
 then, when he pulled her out, she was quite dead. 
 Now, did you ever hear of such a mode of smothering a 
 woman as that ?" 
 
 " No, no!" exclaimed Hogarth, roused to an emotion 
 somewhat complex in character, for fear and anger and 
 horror entered into its composition ; " I never did, and 
 I never want to hear of such things again ; I am nervous 
 and irritable, and not myself. I can t sleep ; my head is 
 almost constantly aching ; my heart palpitates painfully 
 under the least excitement all, 1 suppose, caused by the 
 death of my wife ; then these things that you are always 
 talking about make me worse. I shall not sleep to-night, 
 for seeing that man ramming his wife s head into the 
 corn. I shall see her struggling limbs and her livid 
 face when he takes her out of the bin. If 1 were well 
 I should not care ; but till 1 get stronger, please, Uncle 
 Victor, don t bring up such horrible subjects for con 
 versation." 
 
 " My poor boy," said Mr. Oldmixon, in a piteous 
 tone of voice, " I beg your pardon ; I did not know that 
 a subject so far removed from your life as is that of suffo 
 cation, or smothering, could cause you pain ; but 1 said 
 nothing about the woman s face being livid ; what made 
 you think it was livid ?" 
 
 " Oh, 1 don t know !" exclaimed Hogarth, wearily; 
 " it was only a guess ; her face may have been green, 
 for all I know." 
 
THE TORTtTRE IS CONTINUED. 327 
 
 " Well, well, we ll not say anything more about it ; 
 let us talk of something more agreeable. I have my 
 will here in the drawer ; would you like me to read it to 
 you ?" 
 
 All this was more to Hogarth s liking than the subject 
 of murdering women by smothering them. He had an 
 intense degree of curiosity relative to the exact position 
 he occupied in his uncle s will. 
 
 He had not been able to obtain any information on 
 the subject, for his friend, Mr. Jeremiah Masters, upon 
 whom he had been accustomed to rely for information 
 as to what was passing in Mr. Ridley s office, had parted 
 from his employer, and had set up for himself ; and 
 there was no one else of whom he could make use. He 
 had been told over and over again by Mr. Oldmixon that 
 matters had been restored to the statu quo ante folium, 
 but he did not know positively whether the will was 
 signed or not ; and until he possessed that knowledge 
 the matter of treating his uncle as he had treated his 
 wife could not come up in his mind for due deliberation 
 and final determination. Yes, he would like to hear 
 the will read ; but, at the same time, it would not be 
 prudent to display too much interest in its contents. 
 
 "Anything," he said, with a faint smile, "would 
 be preferable to the gloomy subjects that we have been 
 discussing ; but as to your will, uncle, you will do what 
 you think right, and I shall be satisfied." 
 
 " Yes, yes, of course ; but I think you might as well 
 know positively how great is my affection for you, and 
 how 1 have tried to show it in a practical way. Sit 
 down, then, my dear boy, and listen. This, to be sure, 
 is only the rough draft of my will ; and if you would 
 like to make any suggestions, I shall be glad to hear them. 
 
328 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 I have such entire confidence in your good common-sense 
 and ideas of justice." 
 
 As Mr. Oldmixon spoke these words a tinge of sarcasm 
 was apparent, or rather would have been apparent to 
 almost any one but Hogarth. This young man was too 
 greatly interested in the substance of his uncle s remarks 
 to attend to the manner. The time had come in which 
 he was to be made acquainted with his prospects for the 
 future, and the character of those prospects was a subject 
 of greater importance to him than any emotional ex 
 pression that his uncle might choose to throw into his 
 voice. If he had been a man of greater depth of char 
 acter, he would have paid more attention to a feature 
 that, more than the words themselves, shows a speaker s 
 real thoughts. 
 
 " I trust," he said, C that you will never have cause 
 to repent of your confidence. Doubtless you have 
 heard stories to my disadvantage, and it is to them that 
 I owe your disfavor of a few weeks ago. I am glad that, 
 without any effort of mine, you saw that I had been 
 wronged, and that of your own free and unsolicited will 
 you rectified the injustice I was for a time made to 
 suffer." 
 
 " Yes, my dear boy, that is all over. 1 arn sure you 
 are everything that is good and true. Now, there is 
 Jack" 
 
 " Jack has no heart," interrupted Hogarth ; " I have 
 not forgotten the way in which he treated you many 
 years ago. I suppose your recent experiment with him 
 was not satisfactory." 
 
 " No, no ; it did not turn out well. We parted not 
 such enemies as we were, but, nevertheless, we parted." 
 
 " He hates me as he does the devil." 
 
THE TOKTUKE IS CONTINUED. 329 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! very good ; I wonder, now, if he does hate 
 the devil." 
 
 "I mean," said Hogarth, laughing gayly, " as he 
 ought to hate the devil." 
 
 " Oh, yes, of course, I understand," replied Mr. Old- 
 mixon. " Now, here is the draft that I propose to send 
 down to Mr. Kidley to-day," he continued, fumbling 
 among some papers, and finally extracting one from the 
 mass. " Give me your attention for a moment. It is 
 short, and I think to the point," 
 
 " In the first paragraph I have given all my estate, of 
 every kind whatsoever, to my beloved nephew Hogarth 
 Oldmixon, and in the second I have appointed him sole 
 executor. Now, what do you think of that ? Short 
 and to the point, "isn t it ?" 
 
 " You overwhelm me, Uncle Victor ; I can only 
 hope that it may be many years before your will goes 
 into effect." 
 
 " Thanks, my dear boy ; 1 know you are attached to 
 me. Now," he continued, regarding Hogarth through 
 the medium of the looking-glass, " 1 did think at one 
 time of giving something to Jack say a tenth part of 
 the estate enough to give him a support if he should 
 become blind or otherwise unable to gain his living from 
 his profession ; but 
 
 " You thought better of it," again interrupted Ho 
 garth. " Jack is not capable of appreciating an act of 
 generosity. He is not of an affectionate nature, and all 
 he cares for in the world is himself. Self is Jack s 
 god." 
 
 " Maybe, maybe!" exclaimed Mr. Oldmixon. " I m 
 not praising Jack ; I only thought that as he was my 
 nephew and your brother, you might be inclined to urge 
 
330 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 the putting of his name in the will. But I leave it all 
 to you, my boy all to you." 
 
 i Then I say no ; not because I am avaricious and 
 want all for myself, but solely because I know Jack is 
 not the kind of a man he ought to be. He deserted you 
 while I stuck to you. It would be a sort of a premium on 
 ingratitude. Why, influenced by what I thought was 
 due to you and to myself, I stopped speaking to him 
 several years ago. It would " 
 
 "Say no more," broke in Mr. Oldmixon ; " it shall 
 be as you wish ; I was sure you would not be influenced 
 by any other feeling than a desire to do strict justice." 
 
 Yes, that s it !" exclaimed Hogarth, taking eagerly 
 to the suggestion. " If 1 looked at the matter from a 
 sentimental point of view, of course I should bear in 
 mind that Jack is my brother ; but this is one of those 
 subjects that sentiment has nothing to do with, and in 
 which impartial justice should be exercised. From that 
 point of view I think it would be wrong to give Jack 
 one cent." 
 
 " I am sure you are right ; your instincts are those of 
 a born judge whose ideas are always on the side of right. 
 Now, will you be kind enough to take this down to Mr. 
 Ridley and request him to put it in proper legal form, 
 and to return it to me ? Then, in a day or two I ll execute 
 it, and the matter will be off my mind. I feel some 
 times as though I should not live long. You see, 1 am a 
 pretty old fellow, and my death may take place at any 
 moment. In fact, I have a little difficulty of breathing 
 now," taking, as he spoke, his vial of the nitrite of amyl 
 from his pocket, and putting it to his nostrils " a sort 
 of feeling of suffocation or smothering. By the by, do 
 you know what burking is ?" 
 
THE TORTURE IS CONTINUED. 331 
 
 " No, indeed !" answered Hogarth, with a laugh. 
 He was in great good -humor now, and felt inclined to 
 be merry over everything. " How should I know ? 
 If I had your learning, I should be a much wiser man 
 that I ever expect to be. What is it ?" 
 
 " You see how my mind is running continually on 
 one subject. I shouldn t be surprised if I became a 
 monomaniac on it. There s insanity in the family, you 
 know. Your father was certainly a lunatic, so was your 
 grandfather, and so, also, was one of your aunts. I ve 
 been called i queer all my life. Now, there s Jack. 
 He takes after his mother, and is level-headed, even if 
 lie is heartless and selfish, as you say. But to go back 
 to burking. Burking is only another name for smother 
 ing. It is generally done by its perpetrators by simply 
 putting the hand over the nose and mouth of the victim, 
 so as to shut out the air." 
 
 " Smothering again !" gasped Hogarth, sinking into 
 a chair, entirely overcome by the sudden revulsion of 
 feeling that Mr. Oldmixon s words had produced. 
 " Is that matter to be always on your mind, and are you 
 always going to bring it up before me ? My God ! what 
 do you mean?" he exclaimed, with sudden energy, 
 springing up from his chair and approaching his uncle. 
 " One would think that you are driving at me, and that 
 you thought I had smothered some one. "What do 
 you mean ? Tell me instantly, or He stretched 
 out his hands as though to seize his uncle by the throat 
 and force an answer out of him. The latter, who had 
 also risen, stood by the side of the table, one hand 
 resting carelessly on a little button raised about a half 
 an inch above the surface of the green cloth, the other 
 in his trousers pocket, apparently jingling a bunch of 
 
332 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 keys. Nothing could have exceeded the coolness and 
 composure manifested by Mr. Oldmixon. He knew 
 that Hogarth was entirely willing to strangle him then 
 and there, but he was also aware that he himself held 
 the trump card in the unexecuted will, and that all that 
 was necessary was to bring Hogarth to a sense of that 
 fact. Without, therefore, appearing to notice the excite 
 ment under which his nephew labored, he said, in the 
 most unconcerned manner imaginable : 
 
 " Don t forget to see Ridley this morning, my dear 
 Hogarth. I want to get through with that matter as 
 soon as possible. You smother any one !" he continued ; 
 " I d as soon suspect the President of the United States 
 of picking a pocket." 
 
 At the first words Hogarth s hands fell. It would 
 not do to use violence yet. The will by which Jack got 
 the estate was probably still in existence, and the new 
 one was unexecuted. No, he must wait. Matters were 
 not ripe yet for such extreme action. 
 
 "You irritate me very much, Uncle Yictor," he 
 said, in an injured tone of voice. "Your remarks are 
 so pointed, that for the moment it seems as though you 
 referred to me. Of course, when I come to reflect upon 
 the subject, I know that my suspicions are unwarranted ; 
 but reflection requires time. I am a very sensitive man, 
 and my recent great affliction has made me still more 
 so." 
 
 a I should not have told you what burking is unless 
 you had asked me what the word meant. Did you never 
 hear of Burke and his partner Hare, who, many years 
 ago, made their living by suffocating people in the way 
 1 mentioned, and then selling the dead bodies to the 
 medical colleges for dissection ? Kead the History of 
 
THE TORTUEE IS CONTINUED. 333 
 
 Burke and Hare. I have it here, and will be happy to 
 lend it to you." 
 
 " I do not want to read it ; it must be very horrible !" 
 
 " Yes, it is horrible," rejoined Mr. Oldmixon, shrug 
 ging his shoulders, " for all such descriptions excite the 
 pity in a man s breast for the victims, as well as horror 
 and detestation of the criminals. But if horrible to us 
 when we simply read of the vile deeds, how much more 
 fearful must have been the feelings of the wretches who 
 murdered innocent people !" 
 
 " Yes," answered Hogarth, moodily, " they must have 
 experienced that greatest of all mental torments re 
 morse. " 
 
 " Of course that is, if they had ordinary human 
 emotions. Now, look at this portrait of Burke," taking 
 up, as he spoke, the book from the table, and showing 
 Hogarth the picture of a brutal-looking man. " Did you 
 ever see a face so utterly devoid of the i milk of human 
 kindness as that ? That man smothered about twenty 
 people. He used a very simple process only stopping 
 the nose and mouth. Once, however, he put a pillow 
 over the face, and that he thought was a better plan, as it 
 prevented his seeing the last pleading look of the poor 
 creatures. Yes," he continued, as though talking to 
 himself, " if I were going to smother a person, espe 
 cially a woman, I should prefer to cover the face with a 
 pillow. 1 should not like to have that last look haunt 
 ing my memory. Why, my dear boy !" as, looking 
 at Hogarth, he saw his nephew standing erect, his eyes 
 dilated, his hands outstretched, his lips moving, but no 
 sound escaping, his face as pale at that of a ghost, and 
 his mind apparently oblivious to what was going on 
 about him. " Poor boy !" continued Mr. Oldmixon, 
 
334 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 approaching the statue-like figure, " your troubles have 
 unnerved you; come," laying a hand on his shoulder, 
 and shaking him gently, " rouse yourself. Your nerves 
 are indeed weak. Hogarth !" shaking him more vio 
 lently, " what s the matter ? By Heaven ! I believe he 
 has a fit !" as his nephew remained rigid and uncon 
 scious, his eyes staring at vacancy. " Well, well," he 
 said to himself, " 1 must go a little more slowly. He s 
 not quite ready to confess yet, and I m not quite ready 
 to have him die. I wonder how my nitrite of amyl 
 would do for him ?" 
 
 Mr. Oldmixon took the little vial from his waistcoat 
 pocket, and pouring a few drops on a handkerchief, held 
 it to Hogarth s face. Almost instantly the spasm re 
 laxed, the extended arms fell, the stare ceased, and, with 
 a long inspiration, consciousness was restored. 
 
 k I had a dream, I think," said Hogarth, feebly, as 
 he lay down on a lounge, Mr. Oldmixon putting a pillow 
 under his head and giving him a glass of wine. " I don t 
 quite know what it was. My mind isn t clear yet, but I 
 thought I saw Camilla looking at me. Didn t you say 
 something about last looks ? I don t know perhaps 
 I had better not talk till my mind gets clearer ; I might 
 say something that wasn t true, you know something 
 that would do me harm. Of course dreams are not true. 
 Did I say anything ? If I did 1 take it back now. I 
 I " here his voice became inarticulate, and he fell into 
 a heavy stupor, from which he did not emerge for several 
 hours. 
 
 In the mean time Mr. Oldmixon called his valet to 
 look after Hogarth, while he, taking with him the manu 
 script with which he had been engaged just before his 
 nephew s arrival, went into a little room in which he 
 
THE TOKTUKE IS CONTINUED. 335 
 
 sometimes did his writing, and again busied himself in 
 making alterations in the text of his novel. 
 
 Every now and then, however, he would stop, and, 
 throwing himself back in his chair, indulge in serious 
 reflections relative to the actual situation of the matter 
 that so fully occupied his mind. Events were moving 
 to suit him, and exactly as he had anticipated. He be 
 lieved that Hogarth was on the verge of confessing, and 
 that a little more torture would bring him to the speak 
 ing point. 
 
 " And he shall have it !" he exclaimed, rising from 
 his chair and hurriedly pacing the floor ; " I don t care 
 about his speaking too soon. He hasn t suffered half 
 enough yet. I ll bring him to the brink of acknowledg 
 ing his guilt, and then I ll let up on him and give him a 
 reviving inhalation, as the victims of bodily torture were 
 brought back to consciousness by a restoring draught. I 
 really thought I had lost him to-day. 
 
 " He came very near trying to kill me," he contin 
 ued, after he had walked in silence. " One step farther, 
 and I should have rung my electric bell and brought 
 Thomas to the rescue. But pshaw ! He will try noth 
 ing of that kind with me till the will is signed ; and if I 
 don t know enough to beat him at that game I d better 
 hang a millstone around my neck and throw myself into 
 the river. If I, Victor Constantine Oldmixori, with the 
 astuteness of the devil himself, can t get ahead of a 
 clumsy knave like Hogarth, then there s no use in hav 
 ing brains. 
 
 " Poor Jack !" he went on, after another long pause ; 
 " 1 hope he knows that I haven t deserted him, and that 
 nothing but a stern sense of duty would prompt me to 
 have that beast that basilisk near me. Well, well, by 
 
336 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 George ! I have almost forgotten my beauty, the most 
 sensible woman I ever saw. Barbara ! What a pretty 
 name ! I ll go and see her, and I ll let her into my 
 confidence, as I did before." 
 
 He put his manuscript away, and going to his dress 
 ing-room, arrayed himself in the most unexceptionable 
 attire for the street. Then he rang for his coupe, and 
 after taking a look at Hogarth, who was still in a stupor 
 and breathing laboriously, he ordered his coachman to 
 drive to Mr. Henschel s. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 HOGAKTH HAS AN IDEA. 
 
 HOGARTH lay in a stupid condition till nearly four 
 o clock ; then he began to regain consciousness. He sat 
 up, looked wildly about him, put his hand to his head as 
 though he might be endeavoring to recall the incidents 
 that had brought him to his present condition, and then 
 slowly arose to his feet. He staggered, however, and 
 would have fallen if Thomas, who was on the alert, had 
 not held him up. 
 
 " What a horrid headache !" he said, as the man 
 assisted him to a chair ; " can t you do something for 
 me?" 
 
 " I don t know, sir," answered the man ; " Mr. Old- 
 mixon sometimes puts ice on his head when it aches. 
 Shall 1 get some for you, sir ?" 
 
 " Yes ; break some ice and wrap it in a towel and put 
 it on my head." 
 
 " I m not clear at all," he said, after the man had left 
 the room ; " it seems to me that the last thing I recollect 
 is that some one was trying to smother me, and that 
 Camilla is somehow mixed up with it. I saw her face 
 for one instant just before I covered it with the pillow, 
 and 1 saw it again just now just now ! my God, it is 
 there before me at this moment ! No," he added, more 
 calmly, "it was only imagination. I can never see it 
 again, and I never want to see it again why, yes, there 
 15 
 
338 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 it is ! It goes and comes like a hallucination, and that s 
 what it is, that s all the last look given by a person that 
 is about to die, and given to the man by whom death is 
 coming ! I ve seen it once, and, my God ! it seems as 
 though I could never again shut it out from my eyes. I 
 was all right till I came to this cursed house to live, and 
 that fiend began with his devilish tricks. I suppose it is 
 unintentional, or rather that he does it for his amuse 
 ment, or perhaps simply from indifference to what I may 
 feel. He cannot know anything ; that is impossible ; 
 and if he did, he wouldn t be such an infernal scoundrel 
 as to go to work deliberately to torture me in this way ; 
 no, he ca.nnot know ; he cannot be unfriendly to me. His 
 speech is kind enough, and then he shows his real thoughts 
 when he takes me back, invites me to his house, and 
 makes his will in my favor. 
 
 " By Heaven ! the more I think of it the more 1 am 
 convinced that he is insane on the subject of smothering. 
 1 believe he knows he is. He hinted at something of 
 the kind just now. I suppose if that is so that I shall 
 have to stand it for a while, till the will is signed, and 
 then " Again his fingers clutched at an imaginary 
 something, and were pressed convulsively against his 
 palms ; then they opened, and again closed, continuing 
 these movements for perhaps a minute, while he lay back 
 in the chair, with his eyes closed and his lips retracted, 
 so as to show his teeth. 
 
 " Yes," he continued, after he had apparently exhaust 
 ed the excitability of his hands, " I shall have to do it. 
 He has given me some valuable lessons, and, by God ! I ll 
 make use of them on him. He s too uncertain a man to 
 be depended on. He might change in a week over some 
 fancied insult or something else, and bring back that milk- 
 
HOGARTH HAS AN IDEA. 339 
 
 sop Jack. Well, I put a spoke in his wheel to-day, and 
 that s something. Ah! Thomas, here you are. Yes, that 
 will do ; now put it on my head, and go and get me a 
 bottle of Yichy . You have Yichy in the house, 1 su ppose ? 
 " Oh, yes, sir," answered the man, as he put the towel, 
 full of cracked ice, on Hogarth s head, making a kind of 
 skull-cap of it, and putting another towel around his neck 
 to absorb the water that ran down ; " Mr. Oldmixon has 
 all the mineral waters ; you can have any one you wish." 
 " I ll stick to the Yichy. I feel better already." As 
 the man left the room Hogarth got up and looked over 
 the papers on the library table till he found the rough 
 draft of the will that Mr. Oldmixon had left there. He 
 read it over very carefully several times. " Yes," he 
 said, as he folded it up and put it into his pocket, " it s 
 all right. I believe he s honest. It would be impossible 
 for him to do this if he knew anything, and was trying 
 to entrap me ; he couldn t be such an infernal scoundrel ! 
 I ll try and get used to his smothering mania, for that s 
 what it is, and the next time he mentions it I ll go him 
 one better. I ll tell a worse story than he can tell, and 
 I ll show him that I can play the game of bluff as well 
 as he. Thanks," as Thomas came in with the Yichy ; 
 " set it down, and I ll help myself when I m ready for 
 it. I feel pretty well now, so you needn t stay. Has 
 Mr. Oldmixon gone out ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir ; he went out an hour ago." 
 " Do you know where he went ?" 
 " No, sir ; but I suppose he went to the club." 
 " Oh, yes, I suppose he did. That will do. I ll go 
 to my room, I think, and get ready for a walk. If my 
 uncle comes in, tell him I shall be back in time for 
 dinner." 
 
340 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 The man bowed and left the room, and Hogarth, after 
 drinking nearly the whole of the bottle of Yichy, repaired 
 to his bedroom, and began dressing for the street. He 
 took off the brown velvet sack-coat that he generally 
 wore when in the house, and was proceeding to put on a 
 frock-coat of stylish cut, when a letter fell from one of 
 the pockets to the floor. He stooped and picked it up, 
 and immediately recognized it as the one that he had re 
 ceived from his friend Jeremiah Masters, informing him 
 that Mr. Oldmixon had willed his property to Jack on 
 condition that he should marry a lady unknown to the 
 writer. Reading this letter again, his curiosity became 
 excited as to who was the woman in whom his uncle took 
 such great interest as to provide for her marriage to a 
 man who was then his favorite nephew, and in case of 
 his neglect or refusal to marry her, making her the resid 
 uary legatee of his entire estate. He had overlooked 
 this circumstance, and the fact, now brought back to his 
 recollection, gave him great uneasiness. He was by na 
 ture suspicious and prone to attribute concealed motives 
 to persons with whom he had relations, so that it w r as 
 not astonishing that the matter in question should have 
 caused him additional discomfort. Had his uncle lost 
 his interest in this woman at the same time that he had 
 cast Jack off a second time ? Would there be any such 
 provision in the new will to be made in his favor ? Why 
 should there be this anxiety shown for her marriage, and 
 this great consideration for her welfare by giving her 
 nearly a million dollars ? 
 
 He stood with his hand to his head, vainly endeavor 
 ing to answer these questions in a way satisfactory to 
 himself. He was not yet quite restored to his normal 
 condition. His head still ached with a dull, heavy pain, 
 
HOGAKTH HAS AK IDEA. 341 
 
 that rendered him, to a certain extent, stupid and incapa 
 ble of grasping difficult questions like those that he had 
 asked himself. Suddenly his face lit up with an expres 
 sion that indicated that he had reached a solution of the 
 matter. " By God !" he exclaimed, with all the empha 
 sis of which he was capable, " 1 believe I ve got it at 
 last." The result did not, however, give him much 
 pleasure, if a judgment could be formed from his counte 
 nance ; but it certainly tended to quicken his movements, 
 so that in a few minutes he had completed his toilet, 
 and was on his way down-stairs to the library. " If my 
 uncle were to die to-night," he said, as he went down 
 the steps, "or if anything should prevent the execution 
 of the new will, this woman, whoever she is, would get 
 the estate. That is a matter for serious contemplation, 
 and," he added, " f or a little detective service. I must 
 find out who this woman is ; but how ?" While still 
 lost in the difficulties of this last interrogation, he entered 
 the library, where he found Thomas engaged in remov 
 ing the empty Vichy bottle and setting Mr. Oldmixon s 
 table in order. "Perhaps," thought Hogarth, " this 
 fellow may be able to give me some information. 
 
 "I suppose you never have lady visitors, Thomas," he 
 said, " although, from the neatness that prevails over the 
 whole house, I should think you had them very often." 
 
 " No, sir ; I don t think any woman ever comes into 
 this house except the laundress every week and the 
 scrubbers every month." 
 
 " And my uncle, being such an inveterate old bachelor, 
 visits no ladies, of course?" he said, interrogatively. 
 
 "Well, sir, 1 don t know about that," replied Thomas, 
 with a grin ; " Mr. Oldmixon s pretty well up in years 
 now, but he likes a pretty face when he sees it." 
 
342 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 " Oh, yes, of course ! Every man does till the day of 
 his death, if he lives to be a hundred. But he never 
 took any decided fancy to any particular one, did he?" 
 
 I ain t so sure of that neither," answered Thomas, 
 still grinning with the consciousness of superior knowl 
 edge ; " I guess there s one that he thinks a good deal 
 of, but that s only a guess ; and if he was to know 
 that I d said such a thing, he d turn me off the next 
 minute." 
 
 "Oh, that s all right ! He ll never know from me ; 
 and besides," he added, laughing, " there s no great harm 
 in a gentleman, even if he is seventy-five years old, ad 
 miring a pretty girl, is there, especially if the pretty 
 girl admires him ?" 
 
 il No, sir ; no, sir ; I guess there ain t no great wrong 
 in it ; but Mr. Oldmixon keeps this so mighty close that 
 no one knows anything about it except Dan the coach 
 man, and you couldn t get him to tell where he drove to 
 if you was to prod him with red-hot irons, or give him a 
 mint of money. Nothing ever has influence with Dan 
 after Mr. Oldmixon tells him to hold his tongue." 
 
 " Well, Thomas, that isn t a bad trait in a servant ; but 
 in a little matter like this Dan might afford to be more 
 communicative. Now, I want to play off a little joke on 
 my uncle that I think will amuse him, and I d like to 
 know who the lady is that the old gentleman admires so 
 highly." 
 
 " There ain t any use, sir, in going to Dan ; nothing 
 would make him open his mouth." 
 
 " Not even twenty dollars ?" 
 
 " Twenty dollars !" exclaimed Thomas, with strong 
 contempt in his tone. " No, sir, nor twenty times twen 
 ty, nor twenty times that. You see, Dan s lived with 
 
HOGARTH HAS AN IDEA. 343 
 
 Mr. Oldmixon over forty years. He gets the biggest 
 wages of any coachman in the city, and Mr. Oldmixon s 
 already given him two thousand dollars, which pays him 
 more than a hundred a year from a mortgage that he put it 
 in. But that ain t all. Last New Year s day he gave 
 Dan a hundred dollars, and told him that if he was his 
 coachman next New Year s day he d give him a thou 
 sand more. No\v, you see, all that keeps Dan s mouth 
 shut. Then, besides, he s nearly Mr. Oldmixon s age, 
 so that there s a fellow-feeling between them." 
 
 " So you think it s no use to try to find out anything 
 from Dan ?" 
 
 (i I don t think anything about it, sir ; I know it ain t 
 no use. But," continued Thomas, who was under no 
 such bonds to keep silent as was Dan, and who coveted 
 the twenty dollars and doubtless more that Mr. Hogarth 
 seemed disposed to give for information that would en 
 able him to get off his little joke, l I know a point or two 
 about that little affair as might lead, if you worked it well, 
 to your knowing all about it." 
 
 " How s that, Thomas ? I ll give you twenty dollars 
 now for your point or two ; and if they lead to cer 
 tainty, I ll make it a hundred more." 
 
 " Well, it s just this. Dan let out quite accidentally 
 that Mr. Oldmixon was at a bird-stuffer s talking with a 
 young lady once for half an hour, and once for an hour 
 or more. But the minute I asked him what bird-stuffer, 
 he was mum, and I couldn t get a word more out of 
 him. Now, 1 know Mr. Oldmixon brought a stuffed ca 
 nary bird home with him one day, and he s got it now 
 in a silver box locked up in that old Dutch cabinet over 
 there in the corner. Now, sir, while the silver box was 
 being made for that bird, he kept it under a glass shade 
 
344 ME. OLDMIXOX. 
 
 on that table there, and I ve seen him kiss it two or three 
 times when he didn t think any one was around." 
 
 " That s very strange," thought Hogarth; "I won 
 der if that can be the same bird that escaped from the 
 window opposite, and that flew in here. Why should he 
 have it stuffed ? And why should he kiss it ? Doubt 
 less because that woman stuffed it. Now, who the devil 
 can she be ? 
 
 a You have no idea what bird-stuffer did the work ?" 
 
 u No, sir ; but it can t be very difficult to find out, for 
 I think the same one and she s a woman, that 1 know 
 did an animal for Mr. Jack." 
 
 " Oh, that s it, is it ? But how do you know that the 
 bird-stuffer is a woman ?" 
 
 " How do I know it, sir!" exclaimed Thomas, as 
 though there was in the question an imputation on his 
 ability to acquire knowledge, "well, sir, I know it be 
 cause she was here in this very room. 
 
 " In this room ! Why, not ten minutes ago, you told 
 me that no woman ever came here but the laundress and 
 the scrubbers." 
 
 " So I did, sir," said Thomas, a little abashed, " but 
 that was before before 
 
 " Before I had promised you twenty dollars," inter 
 rupted Hogarth, with a laugh. 
 
 44 Yes, sir." 
 
 " Well, now that you know what I m going to do for 
 you, 1 suppose you ll tell me all you know ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. The young woman came here with a sort 
 of an animal she d stuffed for Mr. Jack one that he 
 brought home with him from Canada." 
 
 " So she stuffed something for Mr. Jack, did she ? Go 
 
HOGARTH HAS AN IDEA. 345 
 
 " Yes, sir, and she thought he lived here ; she had 
 lost the direction he gave her, and then she looked in 
 the directory, and she came here, thinking this was his 
 house." 
 
 " Well, and what did she say or do after she came 
 here?" 
 
 " Not much ; I didn t know that it was worth while to 
 ask her any questions, or, of course, I could have got out 
 of her all I wanted to know. I d like to see the woman 
 I couldn t get around when I tried," he added, com 
 placently. 
 
 " You didn t find out her name ?" 
 
 " No, sir, for I didn t think it was of any importance 
 to know ; but she s the one that Mr. Oldmixon spent so 
 much time with, and she stuffed them two things, the bird 
 for him and the badger it looked like a badger for 
 Mr. Jack." 
 
 " How do you know that she stuffed the bird for my 
 uncle?" 
 
 " Because it was on the table when she came here, and 
 she saw it, and I asked her if she had stuffed that bird, and 
 she said she had. 
 
 " That seems pretty straight," said Hogarth, as though 
 speaking to himself. u Here, Thomas," he continued, 
 addressing that individual " here s your twenty dollars. 
 Now, I ve only got to find out where she lives, and that 
 completes the affair so far as the identification goes. Can 
 you give me no clew ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, sir ! She told me she was in partnership with 
 her father. Now, here s a business directory ; look through 
 it for the bird-stuffers, and note them that has partners. 
 Then go to each one in turn till you find it. You can do 
 it with a cab in an hour. Or I ll do it for you, sir, if you 
 15* 
 
346 MR. OLDMIXCKN". 
 
 like," he added, having in mind an amplification of his 
 bonus. 
 
 " Yes, that will do exactly. Give me the book." 
 
 Taking the volume from Thomas, Hogarth turned to 
 the page containing the list of all the taxidermists doing 
 business in New York, and ran his eyes over the column. 
 
 " There are only three with more than one person in 
 the firm," he said ; " there s Tophan & Byles, c Jones 
 & Williams, and Thomas Bangs & Company. " 
 
 " That s it !" exclaimed Thomas ; "you see, it can t 
 be either of the others, for the names are different, and she 
 said she was in with her father. Thomas Bangs & 
 Company I ll bet that s the one." 
 
 Seventy-three Lake Street," continued Hogarth, 
 reading from the directory. " Go down there this even 
 ing, Thomas, while we are at dinner ; and if she s the one, 
 lea ye a note on my dressing-table." 
 
 " There s something going on here that 1 don t under 
 stand," he said, as he walked down Fifth Avenue ; "if 
 anything happens before the new will is signed she gets 
 the money, unless Jack marries her, and then he gets it. 
 If she was to marry me now she couldn t marry Jack, and 
 that would cut him out altogether, and I d get the estate 
 almost as completely as though he had willed it to me 
 direct. It s a complicated business, and I don t quite see 
 my way clear. I m afraid the old man intends to do 
 something, and that this draft of a new will is all a sham. 
 One thing is certain : if he was to die to-night and 1 was 
 her husband, she d have the money, and that would be the 
 same as if 1 had it. There s no getting over that. By 
 George !" as an idea suddenly occurred to him, " I ll go 
 and see Masters five o clock," taking out his watch and 
 holding it contemplatively in his hand. "It s rather 
 
HOGARTH HAS AN IDEA. 347 
 
 late to go down-town, and it s rather early to find him at 
 home. I ll risk it. " He put his watch into his pocket, 
 and crossing the street at Madison Square, took a cab from 
 the stand there, and told the driver to go to 107 East 
 Henson Street. 
 
 " 1 ought to have gone to Masters long ago about the 
 matter," he said, as he took out his cigar-case and, light 
 ing a cigar, lay back in the vehicle and smoked, more for 
 the sake of the company the act gave him than from any 
 other gratification. " He s a bright man in such things, 
 and he s a friend of mine too. Besides, he s not troubled 
 with scruples when his interest is at stake. N either am 
 I under like circumstances." 
 
 It took but a few minutes to reach Mr. Masters s resi 
 dence. It was a house that had once been occupied by 
 people of a good class, and was in a street that had once 
 been respectable, but which was now filled with all de 
 scriptions of disreputable and semi-disreputable persons, 
 who carried on various kinds of business that, if not posi 
 tively unlawful, required the constant vigilance of the 
 police to keep them from becoming so. No. 107, in 
 which Mr. Masters lived, was on one side bounded by a 
 low concert and drinking hall and on the other by a 
 swindling policy shop and gambling establishment, fre 
 quented habitually by the worst characters that a large 
 city like New York is able to produce. 
 
 The house had that dilapidated appearance that is so 
 characteristic of New York houses when they begin to 
 decline in respectability. Hogarth ascended the front 
 steps, which were already showing signs of a departure 
 from the degree of rectangularity that well-ordered con 
 structions of the kind exhibit. He had some little diffi 
 culty in ringing the bell, and then, when he finally sue- 
 
348 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 ceeded in producing a faint sound, was forced to wait 
 several minutes and to pull the handle repeatedly before 
 he heard the footsteps that announced the coming of 
 some one to open the door. 
 
 "I m sorry to have kept you waiting," said the 
 slovenly and otherwise unprepossessing woman who let 
 him in ; " the girl is out on an errand, and I was up 
 stairs attending to my brother, who is not well to-day. 
 Do you wish to see him on business, sir ?" 
 
 " I did wish to see him on a matter of business," said 
 Hogarth, " but since he is not well, I will call again. 
 Please give him this card, and ask him to send me a line 
 telling me when and where I can see him." 
 
 The woman took the card, and looking at it, exclaimed, 
 " Oh, you are Mr. Hogarth Oldrnixon ! He ll see you, 
 I am sure. Just step inside and wait in the parlor till I 
 tell him you re here. Things don t look very nice," 
 she continued, as she ushered Hogarth into a shabbily 
 furnished room, " for Jeremiah s sickness has prevented 
 me looking after matters. Take a seat, please, and I ll 
 let him know at once." 
 
 Hogarth sat down on the hair-cloth-covered chair that 
 
 o 
 
 she pushed toward him, and endeavored to amuse himself 
 till Miss Masters returned by looking around the room. 
 There was nothing, however, to attract his attention, not 
 a picture, not a book, not an ornament of any kind. 
 There was a white marble-top table, a hair-cloth sofa, 
 four chairs of the same description, an ingrain carpet, 
 and that was all. Fortunately for his peace of mind, 
 he did not have to wait long, for in two or three minutes 
 Miss Masters re-entered the room, and informed him that 
 her brother would see him at once. Hogarth followed 
 her up one flight of stairs and into the room in which 
 
HOGARTH HAS AN IDEA. 349 
 
 Mr. Jeremiah Masters sat, arrayed in a gaudy dressing- 
 gown, and, like his sister, presenting a decidedly un 
 kempt appearance, and looking, besides, as though he had 
 just got out of the tumbled bed that occupied the greater 
 part of the room. 
 
 " Leave us, Belinda, please," he said, addressing his 
 sister ; " Mr. Oldmixon probably wishes to consult me 
 upon matters of private business. I didn t want to miss 
 the chance of seeing you," he continued, after the lady 
 had departed, " for 1 thought, from the fact of your 
 coming here, that something important might have oc 
 curred. Am I right ?" He looked sharply at Hogarth 
 as he put this question, and then, without waiting for an 
 answer, went on : 
 
 " I woke up with a horrid headache this morning, and 
 didn t go down to the office ; but I don t know any man 
 whose affairs want looking after as much as yours do, 
 and 1 am perfectly willing to devote my time, sick or 
 well, to your service. JS"ow, is there anything special ?" 
 
 " Yes ; I have the rough draft of my uncle s new will 
 in my pocket, and I m to take it to-morrow to Mr. Rid 
 ley to have it engrossed into proper form. Would you 
 like to see it ?" 
 
 He handed the paper to Mr. Masters, and the latter 
 read it over two or three times. 
 
 " It seems to be sufficiently explicit," he said, as he 
 handed it back to Hogarth. " I have known cases, 
 however, in which the lawyer drawing up the will had re 
 ceived private instructions to leave out some requisite 
 feature, so as to make the instrument invalid. The tes 
 tator in such a case makes a great show of executing a 
 will, for the purpose of deceiving interested parties, 
 while all the time there is another will, properly drawn 
 
350 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 and executed, hidden away, to be brought out when the 
 proper time comes." 
 
 " Do you think my uncle would do that with me ?" 
 
 " 1 think your uncle is so entirely unscrupulous that 
 he would do whatever he wanted to do. 
 
 " But with what object? Men don t become recon 
 ciled with nephews they have discarded and in whose 
 favor they have made new wills for nothing. And as 
 to motive for so much hypocrisy, I don t see it. Do 
 you think he is a man to act the liar and the traitor sim 
 ply from the love of evil ? 
 
 Mr. Masters, before answering this question, stroked 
 his chin with each hand alternately, as though, by thus 
 stimulating the cutaneous surface of that part of his 
 body, his thoughts would follow more rapidly. It was 
 not a nice-looking chin. It was unshaven, and it was 
 unclean, and it was misshapen ; but the gentle friction 
 produced by its possessor s fingers appeared to excite the 
 necessary cerebral action ; for after about two minutes 
 devoted to this process, Mr. Masters spoke : 
 
 " Do you think you know your uncle ?" 
 
 " Do I think I know him ? Well, I ought to know 
 him, seeing that I ve lived in the same house or in in 
 timate association with him almost ever since I was 
 born." 
 
 " You might easily do that, and still not know Mr. 
 Oldmixon. To my mind, he is the most secretive and 
 the most unknowable man I ever saw. Where is the old 
 will?" 
 
 " I don t know. Perhaps it s destroyed." 
 
 " I know it isn t destroyed. At least, it was in exist 
 ence at this time yesterday, for I saw it." 
 
 " You saw it! Where?" 
 
HOGARTH HAS AN IDEA. 351 
 
 " I was in Mr. Kidley s office ; he had sent for me in 
 regard to a case that he had when I was with him and that 
 1 understood. I saw a copy of this very draft that you 
 have on his table, and I saw the other will there too. 
 That will at this moment is worth all the rough drafts 
 in the world." 
 
 " Are you perfectly familiar with the terms of that 
 will?" asked Hogarth, anxiously. 
 
 4 < Perfectly." 
 
 "But you don t know the name of the woman to 
 whom the estate goes in case Jack does not marry her ?" 
 
 " No ; the name was left blank." 
 
 " Then I am wiser than you, for I know." 
 
 " You do ! How did you find out ?" 
 
 " By a process of reasoning from certain premises. 
 She s a bird-stuffer, and her name is Bangs." 
 
 " It may be," said Mr. Masters, reflectively ; " Mr. 
 Oldmixon, I know, had at about the time the will was 
 drawn up some dealings with a taxidermist. 
 
 " Yes ; she stuffed a canary bird for him." 
 
 " True ; 1 recollect now. I heard him speaking of it 
 to Mr. Ridley and extolling the workmanship. But 
 are you sure of the name ?" 
 
 " Not entirely, but I shall be by to-night. Every 
 thing, however, points to Miss Bangs as the legatee." 
 
 " You d better go and marry her ; for, as sure as I be 
 lieve in the existence of the world, I don t believe that 
 Mr. Oldmixon intends to make a new will." 
 
 "What makes you think so ?" 
 
 " My general knowledge of his character, which tells 
 me that when he makes an ostentatious show of doing any 
 thing he generally means to do the very reverse. The 
 suddenness with which you were called back after I had 
 
MR. OLDM1XON. 
 
 heard him denounce you as the greatest scoundrel the 
 world had ever produced, and when nothing had oc 
 curred to cause him to change his opinion ; the fact that 
 your brother Jack and he are on the most affectionate 
 terms with each other, while he pretends to you that he 
 has quarrelled with him." 
 
 " You don t say that he and Jack are friendly !" ex 
 claimed Hogarth, rising from his chair, and pacing the 
 floor hurriedly. 
 
 Yes, I do ; they met at Mr. Eidley s yesterday, and 
 were discussing this very matter of the will." 
 
 Then the old villain means to play me false ! He 
 has some devilish scheme on hand that I have not 
 fathomed. Is there no way to be even with him ? 
 
 :c I can counsel you to nothing unlawful. But there is 
 no reason, so far as I can see, why you should not marry 
 the girl. She knows nothing about being Mr. Old- 
 mixon s heiress, and your brother has refused to marry 
 her." 
 
 " Jack has refused to marry her ! By Heaven ! why 
 have you kept this from me, when you must have known 
 how anxious I was on the subject ?" 
 
 " Because, my friend, I am engaged in making my 
 living by practising the profession of the law. There 
 are matters that 1 am going to give you the right to use 
 for a consideration, and that consideration 1*3 the sum of 
 one hundred thousand dollars, to be paid to me within 
 thirty days after you marry the heiress." 
 
 " But you have told me, and I can use them for noth 
 ing." 
 
 " Oh, no ; for unless you sign this little document to 
 the effect that, for value received, you promise to pay, 
 thirty days after sight, to Jeremiah Masters or order, 
 
HOGARTH HAS AN IDEA. 353 
 
 one hundred thousand dollars, value received, I shall im 
 mediately inform jour uncle of this interview, and notify 
 Miss Bangs of your designs. Sign it, and we are friends, 
 and you shall have my best services ; refuse, and your 
 game is at an end." 
 
 Hogarth was no fool. He saw that he was in the 
 power of this man ; so, after some further conversation, 
 he signed the note, and prepared to take his departure to 
 begin the operations upon which he trusted for success. 
 
 " There s one thing more I d like to know," he said, 
 " and that is, why Jack refused to marry the girl ?" 
 
 " Because he s in love with another woman. I heard 
 Mr. Ridley and Mr. Oldmixon talking it over ; and though 
 your uncle regretted the fact, he declared that it should 
 not cause him to change his will. In fact, it s the girl 
 he wants to have the money, and neither you nor your 
 brother." 
 
 "I wonder why he takes such an interest in this 
 woman ! Do you know ?" 
 
 "No, I don t." 
 
 " 1 believe she s his mistress." 
 
 (( I think you are mistaken." 
 
 " I ll probe the matter to the bottom. But I m ready 
 to marry her. I m not squeamish." 
 
 " I m sure you re mistaken." 
 
 " There s nothing else that could account for his 
 interest. He simply wants to provide for her hand 
 somely, and get her a husband at the same time. Jack 
 has found out his little game, and has refused. lie is 
 squeamish, but / m not. So long as she s to have nearly 
 a million dollars I ll take her, even if I have to father a 
 lot of bastards into the bargain. " 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 " HER HEART SANK WITHIN HER." 
 
 MR. OLDMIXON was in great good-humor, and as he 
 drove down the street on his way to the house where he 
 had last seen Barbara Henschel, he fairly chuckled with 
 delight at the success that he had thus far obtained 
 from his procedures against Hogarth. It may as well 
 be said here that Mr. Jeremiah Masters was entirely 
 right in his suspicions relative to Mr. Oldmixon s con 
 templated action. That gentleman had not the most 
 distant idea of making another will. The one that Mr. 
 Ridley had in his fire-proof and burglar-proof safe was 
 exactly in accordance with his wishes, as much so as when 
 he had signed it. To be sure, Jack s refusal to marry 
 the woman he had selected for him had discomposed him 
 somewhat ; but he had reflected that, after all, his chief 
 object was to give the estate to Barbara, and that if 
 Jack did not choose to share it with her, or rather to 
 get it for himself, the loss would be his. 
 
 Then he reflected that the end as regarded his scoun 
 drelly nephew Hogarth was approaching very rapidly. 
 The constant iteration and reiteration of the same sub 
 ject was beginning to affect the fellow. At first he had 
 disregarded it ; then he had attempted to brave it out 
 with a bullying air ; but at last he had succumbed, and 
 henceforth the contest would be all on one side. 
 
 As he thought of the matter he endeavored to form 
 
"HER HEART SANK WITHIN HER." 355 
 
 some idea of the manner in which the climax would 
 appear, and he came to the conclusion that it would be 
 in the form of insanity. Already he saw indications of 
 the approach of that disorder, and these occurring in a 
 person so strongly predisposed by hereditary tendency 
 as was Hogarth appeared to him to point, with irresistible 
 force, to the speedy advent of a condition the existence 
 of which in his nephew would be an ample atonement 
 for the crime he had committed. 
 
 " It s about the worst thing that could happen," he 
 said to himself, as his coupe rolled down Fifth Avenue, 
 " but not a bit worse than he deserves to receive at my 
 hands, and I don t mean to let up a bit. He shall have 
 the full measure to which his crime entitles him, and if 
 he dies in a lunatic asylum well and good. 
 
 " What a mean, contemptible dog he is ! See how he 
 tried to cut off poor Jack without even a dollar ! And 
 he s getting dangerous too. lie would have killed me 
 if it hadn t been for the hold of the will that I have 
 over him. He s not going to kill the goose that lays the 
 golden egg. Not a bit of it ! 
 
 " Jack s a stupid fellow, if he is a great painter," he 
 continued, the idea being probably excited by the fact 
 that, looking out of the window of the coupe, he saw the 
 " Vandyke," where Jack had his lodgings and studio near 
 by in a cross street. " Here s the prettiest and the best 
 girl in New York offered him for a wife, and he refuses 
 her as though she were an Irish bog-trotter or a German 
 sausage- maker. She s too good for him. I wonder who 
 the devil he s after 1 If he isn t entirely caught, I 
 wouldn t despair yet of bringing him to Barbara Hen- 
 schel s feet. I ll have to let them see each other. If 
 he once gets a good look at her and hears her talk and 
 
MR. OLDMIXOtf. 
 
 sees her smile she ll fetch him, as sure as my name s Old- 
 mixon. By George ! I must bring it about some way 
 or other." 
 
 The coupe here turned out of the avenue, and after 
 going a few blocks stopped in front of the late residence 
 of Mr. Ilenschel and his daughter. Externally it looked 
 just as it did when Mr. Oldmixon last saw it, for he did 
 not raise his eyes sufficiently to observe that the sign was 
 changed. He entered the front door and encountered 
 Peter, who was engaged at the desk behind the counter 
 making up his accounts for the week, and looking not 
 very cheerful over the array of figures. 
 
 4 1 would like a few minutes conversation with Miss 
 Ilenschel, please," said Mr. Oldmixon, putting on his 
 most seductive expression and assuming his most dulcet 
 tones. 
 
 Well," rejoined Peter somewhat sulkilyfor the 
 information given by the figures was still working on 
 him- " you ll have to want at present, I guess." 
 
 What do you mean ?" inquired Mr. Oldmixon, less 
 suavely. 
 
 I mean that, as Miss Ilenschel isn t here, it stands in 
 reason that you can t talk with her now." 
 "Not here !" 
 
 " No ; she s left here, she and her father, and devilish 
 sorry I am too. " 
 
 " Well, my friend, I m sorry also ; and as misery loves 
 company, suppose we sympathize with each other, and 
 that you put me on equal terms with yourself by telling 
 me all you know about her disappearance. Why she 
 went, where she went, when she went. " 
 
 This speech put Peter into a better humor, and he 
 proceeded, with much verbiage and circumlocution, to 
 
"HER HEART SANK WITHIN HER." 357 
 
 put Mr. Oldmixon in possession of all the facts connected 
 with the transfer of the business and the change of resi 
 dence of the Ilenschels that were within his knowledge, 
 ending with the statement that since they had retired 
 from the establishment the orders for work had fallen off 
 to such an extent as to make him seriously apprehensive 
 for the future. 
 
 Mr. Oldmixon was surprised to hear of the departure 
 of his friends, but the place to which they had gone was 
 not so far distant as to render it difficult to reach them. 
 
 t( Miss Henschel s in town every day," resumed Peter ; 
 " she s taking lessons in sculpture from Mr. Maurice. 
 It s easy enough to find her, however. You can get out 
 either at New Kochelle or at Mamaroneck. The first s 
 a little nearer to their house, but the other s more con 
 venient for some reason or other. I d like to go up my 
 self some day, to see if I can t get them interested in the 
 business again." 
 
 " I don t think you ll succeed. She s got too much 
 talent for taxidermy, and ere long will astonish the world 
 witli her work as a sculptor. " 
 
 " Yes, that s so, I believe," said Peter, with emphasis. 
 " But," he added, bending over toward Mr. Oldmixon 
 and speaking with all the earnestness of which he was 
 capable, t( do you know what s going on ?" 
 
 " I haven t the slightest idea." 
 
 " Well, there s a firm here in the same business, by the 
 name of Thomas Bangs & Company, composed of father 
 and daughter ; and the girl has been going round claiming 
 that she did some of the best work that Miss Henschel 
 did. Of course she lies about it ; but exposing liars is 
 hard work unless you turn your whole attention to it." 
 
 " What s that ? You don t mean to say that this 
 
358 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 Bangs girl asserts that she mounted certain specimens 
 that were in reality mounted by Miss Henschel ?" 
 
 1 es, I do. That s exactly what I mean to say. You 
 recollect that canary bird that Miss Eenschel mounted 
 for you ?" 
 
 Certainly I do. 1 am not likely to forget it, I 
 
 1 Well, she has circulated a story that she mounted it 
 and she s got a good deal of work through the falsehood 
 too." 
 
 " You don t tell me so ! Where does she live ? I ll 
 go straight there and denounce her. The horrid huzzy I 
 How dare she attempt to filch the reputation of the most 
 accomplished taxidermist that ever lived !" 
 
 " She lives not far from here, in Lake Street ; but it 
 isn t worth your while to go after her, for she s a perfect 
 termagant, aid would just as soon attack you with a 
 broomstick or throw a pail of dirty water on you as not. 
 No, sir ; let her alone. Of course she can t play that 
 game long without being found out." 
 
 Mr. Oldmixon looked at his faultless coat, trousers, and 
 waistcoat, and arrived at the conclusion that it would 
 not be expedient to expose them to the danger of being 
 ruined by the viragoish Miss Bangs. He declared, how! 
 ever, that he would have a lot of notices printed inform 
 ing the public that his bird was mounted by Miss Hen 
 schel, and would hire a boy to stand on the pavement in 
 front of the Bangs establishment and distribute them to 
 the passers-by. This idea struck him as a particularly 
 brilliant one ; and after chuckling over it with great 
 delight, quoting several proverbs and other wise sayings 
 that reflected upon the wickedness of stealing a person s 
 reputation, he made a note of the railway stations nearest 
 
"HER HEART SANK WITHIN HER." 359 
 
 to the Henschels residence, and then took his de 
 parture. 
 
 On the pavement, before getting into his carriage, he 
 looked at his watch. It was twenty minutes of five 
 o clock. Doubtless Barbara had left Mr. Maurice s 
 studio and had gone home. How would it do for him 
 to go to New Kochelle that evening ? He stood for a 
 moment, apparently undecided what to do. Then, telling 
 his coachman to drive rapidly to the Grand Central Kail- 
 way station, he entered the carriage, and pulling down 
 the blinds, gave himself up to the thoughts that the oc 
 casion suggested. 
 
 In the first place, he was determined that if possible he 
 would see Barbara that night and tell her of the plans 
 for her enrichment and marriage that he had formed. 
 He would also inform her of his suspicions against his 
 nephew Hogarth, and of the scheme for rendering him 
 insane that was then being carried out in apparently the 
 most successful manner. And, above all, he desired to 
 ask her advice in regard to another matter that he had 
 in contemplation. He had the utmost confidence in Bar 
 bara s good sense and independence of character. She 
 had aided him materially in his other difficulties, and he 
 resolved, as he lay back in his carriage, his mind undis 
 turbed by the crowds on the streets or by the scenes 
 constantly to be witnessed in the thoroughfares of a large 
 city, that he would implicitly follow her advice in all the 
 affairs that he intended to submit to her judgment. 
 
 Arriving at the Grand Central station he ascertained 
 that a train would leave at five o clock, but that he could 
 not get back that night unless he was content to stay no 
 longer than half an hour at Mr. Henschel s country 
 residence. He knew that it was about three miles from 
 
360 MR. OLDMIXOX. 
 
 either New Kochelle or Mamaroneck, and lie was not 
 sure that he would find a carriage at either place to take 
 him to his destination. Still he resolved to risk it ; so, 
 sending word by the coachman that he would not be at 
 home to dinner, and finding that he had but three min 
 utes to spare, he bought a ticket for New Rochelle and 
 entered the train. 
 
 It was half-past five when he arrived at New Rochelle, 
 and quite dark. He saw, however, to his great satisfaction, 
 that there were a number of carriages at the station ; but 
 upon inquiry he found that the hackman he was about to 
 engage knew nothing of the Henschels. As the reader 
 is aware, Mr. Ilenschel and his daughter always made use 
 of the Mamaroneck station in going to or from Lasata, 
 and this was three miles farther on. However, he at 
 last found a man who professed to know where Mr. 
 Ilenschel lived, and who did, after a good deal of bun 
 gling, finally succeed in finding the place. Looking at 
 his watch, Mr. Oldmixon found that he would have but 
 about half an hour to stay, and then, if he wished to 
 catch the last train for the night, he would have to take 
 his departure. He was quite sure that this would be 
 altogether insufficient for him to say all that he had to 
 say to Barbara, but he hoped to be able to continue the 
 conversation the following day at Mr. Maurice s studio. 
 
 Telling the man to wait for him, Mr. Oldmixon entered 
 the grounds surrounding the house. There were lights 
 in several of the rooms, but the curtains were drawn, 
 and he could not see in, though he tried his utmost to 
 get a glimpse of the interior of the front room on the 
 left of the entrance, in which there was a bright light, 
 but over the windows of which curtains of some thick 
 material hung. Finally he rang the bell. 
 
"HER HEART SANK WITHIN HER." 361 
 
 In a short time it was answered by a neatly dressed 
 housemaid. 
 
 Now, Mr. Oldmixon did not wish to see Mr. Ilenschel, 
 but he judged, very properly of course, that it would be 
 more in accordance with the rules of propriety for him 
 to ask for that gentleman than to request to see his 
 daughter. He did not suppose that Mr. Henschel would 
 make any objection to Barbara seeing him in private on 
 receiving an intimation that such an interview was 
 desired. His age, he thought, was sufficient warrant for 
 requesting such a privilege. Still, when he was informed 
 that Mr. Henschel had gone to New Haven, and would 
 not be back before half- past seven o clock, he was not at 
 all distressed. 
 
 " Is Miss Henschel at home ?" he next inquired. 
 
 " Yes, sir ; walk into the parlor. Who shall I say 
 called?" 
 
 " Here is my card," he said, opening his pocketbook 
 and looking in its compartments for a piece of paste 
 board with his name on it. " No, I have no card," he 
 continued, as he did not find what he sought. Tell her, 
 please, that Mr. Oldmixon would like to see her. 
 
 At the name the woman started ; but as Mr. Oldmixon 
 had turned to go into the parlor he did not observe her 
 surprise. The only "Mr. Oldmixon" she knew was 
 Jack a very different looking personage. 
 
 Barbara, who had not long since arrived home, was in 
 her own room dressing for dinner when the maid entered 
 with the exclamation, " O Miss Barbara ! there s a 
 gentleman down-stairs who says he s Mr. Oldmixon. 
 
 "Mr. Oldmixon!" 
 
 " Yes ; but he s not our Mr. Oldmixon. He s old 
 enough to be his grandfather, I think." 
 16 
 
362 ME. OLDMIXOIT. 
 
 " Oh," said Barbara, with a smile, though at the same 
 time her heart sank within her, " 1 know who it is ; say 
 I ll be down in a few minutes." 
 
 Yes, her heart sank within her, for the idea at once oc 
 curred to her that Mr Oldmixon had called to remonstrate 
 with her for becoming engaged to his nephew ; perhaps 
 even to denounce her for having inveigled the young man 
 into her matrimonial net, to the great detriment of his 
 worldly prospects. How he had discovered the matter she 
 could not imagine, for Jack, who had escorted her to the 
 Grand Central station, had told her almost the last thing 
 he had said that he had not yet informed his uncle of 
 what had taken place between himself and Barbara, but 
 that he intended to do so on the following day. In 
 some way or other, however, the secret must have reached 
 him, and he had come here, possibly to entreat her not to 
 interfere with the plans that he had formed for securing 
 Jack s happiness, and failing by persuasion to move her, 
 to fulminate his wrath not only against her, but against 
 his nephew also. 
 
 Believing all this, Barbara saw that the situation was 
 going to be a trying one ; and knowing as she did Mr. 
 Oldmixon s impetuosity and unreasonableness, she rec 
 ognized the fact that she would require all her strength 
 of mind and powers of resistance to withstand his assaults. 
 She had plenty of courage, and she was fully resolved 
 that nothing he could say should cause her to yield one 
 iota unless it was supported by a message from Jack. If 
 he desired to be free he should be, so far as she could 
 give him freedom. That alternative was, however, one 
 that did not cause her a moment s uneasiness. Not 
 much over an hour ago he had given his views on the 
 subject of constancy in a manner so emphatic that their 
 
"HEB HEAET SANK WITHIN HEE." 363 
 
 expression carried conviction to her mind so strongly 
 that nothing that the uncle could say would shake her 
 confidence in her lover. 
 
 She looked very lovely as she went down the broad 
 old oak staircase to the room below. She wore her hair 
 as usual, very simply arranged, and her dark brown cash 
 mere frock, trimmed with knots of dark blue ribbon, 
 became her wondrously well fitting her as it did to 
 perfection, and setting off her tall, lithe, and well-devel 
 oped figure as scarcely any other color or material could 
 have set it off. 
 
 She nerved herself for a long and a severe contest as 
 she turned the knob of the door, and then she stood 
 before Mr. Oldrnixon. 
 
 The old gentleman had evidently been on the watch 
 for her, for he was standing in the middle of the room, 
 facing the door. As she entered he advanced as rapidly 
 as his not very active legs permitted, and holding out 
 his hand, said : 
 
 " My dear Miss Henschel, how delighted 1 am to see 
 you ! First of all, however, tell me that you pardon 
 my intrusion on your leisure and privacy. Till I obtain 
 your forgiveness I shall not feel that 1 have any right to 
 be here. But you are so kind and gracious that 1 do not 
 despair. You are one of those of whom Madame de 
 Stael spoke, 
 
 Whoe er feels deeply, feels for all who love. " 
 
 Barbara perceived before Mr. Oldmixon had spoken 
 half a dozen words that she had altogether mistaken the 
 object of his visit, and that whatever that object might 
 be it had no reference to the matter that was nearest her 
 heart. Indeed, she discerned, with the penetration that 
 
364 ME. OLDMTXON. 
 
 bright women generally possess, that he had come for 
 some purpose of his own, and that she was again to be 
 called upon to act as adviser. 
 
 "I am very glad to see you again, Mr. Oldmixon," 
 she said ; " I have often wondered what had become of 
 you, and I should have been still more anxious if if " 
 
 She was going on to say " if Jack had not kept me 
 advised about you," when she reflected that the time 
 had not yet come for any reference to Jack, so she ended 
 her remarks by asking him to sit down. 
 
 " I have been quite ill, Miss Henschel," continued Mr. 
 Oldmixon, after he had made himself comfortable in the 
 large arm-chair that Barbara selected for him, and she had 
 taken one immediately in front of him, " and 1 have had 
 a good deal to trouble me. My poor Camilla died only 
 five days after her marriage. Died, did I say ?" turning 
 toward Barbara and speaking in a whisper, though a loud 
 one " she was murdered !" 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Oldmixon, are you sure of that?" said 
 Barbara, who, as the reader knows, had been told by Jack 
 of all Mr. Oldmixon s suspicions and of their verifica 
 tion. It was about the only thing she could say without 
 betraying her knowledge. 
 
 " Absolutely certain," replied Mr. Oldmixon, with all 
 the impressiveness he could muster. " It was 
 
 Murder most foul, as in the best it is, 
 But this most foul, strange, and unnatural. 
 
 Fortunately, I know who is the criminal, and it is of 
 him and his punishment that I come to speak to you 
 among other things to-night. 
 
 Murder, though it have no tongue, will speak 
 With most miraculous organ ! " 
 
"HER HEART SANK WITHIN HER." 365 
 
 " Oh, not to me, Mr. Oldmixon !" exclaimed Barbara, 
 with something of horror in her voice ; " surely you can 
 advise with others on such a subject to more advantage 
 than with me. I am a woman, and should not have such 
 matters brought before me. I cannot " 
 
 " For Heaven s sake, Miss Henschel, hear me !" said 
 Mr. Oldmixon, excitedly. " You are the only one, 
 man or woman, to whom 1 can go with confidence that 
 1 shall get what 1 ask forsincerity. I am very un 
 happy. I wish I wish that I had never been born." 
 
 Here Mr. Oldmixon " went to pieces," as the saying 
 is, and wept and sobbed with a violence that alarmed 
 Barbara. What was she to do ? She knew the whole 
 story as well as he knew it, and to have him go through 
 all the harrowing details was more, she thought, than she 
 could bear. But here she was in the presence of this 
 sobbing, sorrowing old man, who had come for the pur 
 pose of pouring all his woes into her ear, and he was the 
 uncle of the man she loved, and who loved her ! Bar 
 bara was a woman of decision when circumstances 
 required promptness of mental action. She never lost 
 her presence of mind in the face of danger nor the 
 ability to reason with clearness in situations characterized 
 by great emotional disturbance. It was at such times, 
 too, that the frankness and truth of her disposition came 
 out with most distinctness. She was not one to evade 
 an issue or to cover it up with a mass of verbiage mean 
 ing nothing ; but she met it without reserve, candidly, 
 and with such artlessness that all interested perceived 
 that she was abandoning herself to the dictates of her 
 own unsophisticated nature. 
 
 Her mind was a comprehensive one, and took in at 
 one view all the points of the matter before her. This 
 
366 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 old man, now convulsed with excess of emotion, was 
 Jack s uncle. He was seventy-five years of age. He 
 was entitled to be treated kindly and without hypocrisy 
 or deceit, even of that passive kind that is manifested by 
 silence. Surely she could be ingenuous and outspoken 
 with him, obeying the dictates of her heart whithersoever 
 they might lead her ! 
 
CHAPTER XXY. 
 
 "STOP, IF YOU LOVE ME!" 
 
 " I KNOW all about it," she said, gently, and with that 
 sweet inflection in her voice which, more than mere 
 words, expresses sympathy and sincerity. " What do 
 yon wish me to do ?" 
 
 " You know all about it !" exclaimed Mr. Oldmixon, 
 dropping his hands from before his face and looking at 
 her with the utmost astonishment depicted on his coun 
 tenance. 
 
 " Yes," softly and with downcast eyes. 
 
 " What do you know ? Who told you anything ?" 
 
 " I know of your vision or dream, or whatever else 
 it was that you had at Saratoga ; I know how com 
 pletely it has been verified, and and " still more softly 
 and sweetly, " Jack I mean Mr. John Oldmixon told 
 me." 
 
 " Jack ! my nephew, Jack Oldmixon ! You don t 
 mean to say that you know him ? 
 
 "Yes, 1 know him." 
 
 " You know him !" exclaimed Mr. Oldmixon, rising 
 to his feet and approaching her. " Are you going to 
 tell me that, O Barbara !" laying his hand on her head. 
 " Is it possible that you that you are the woman that 
 Jack loves, and that I ve been such a damned old fool as 
 not to see it !" 
 
 She raised her eyes to his ere he had finished speaking, 
 
368 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 and the smile that had before made Mr. Oldmixon her 
 slave was again on her face. 
 
 " Yes," she said, " I I think I m the one." 
 
 " Excuse me for swearing before a lady. I don t 
 think I ever did such a thing before, and you are the 
 one that 1 respect and and love more than any other 
 that I ever saw ; but I was so overwhelmed with joy at 
 hearing of the consummation of my dearest hopes, that 
 the oath slipped out before I knew it. My dear, dear 
 child, I am, next to Jack, the happiest man in the 
 world. How did it happen? Tell me all about it." 
 He started off to pace the floor at his fastest gait, and 
 had crossed it several times before Barbara began to 
 answer him. 
 
 " I don t think Jack could help it," she said and 
 now the reaction set in, after the way with nice women, 
 and tears filled her eyes " and I know I couldn t ; 
 for 1 tried my best not not to love him." 
 
 1 You re a dear, sweet girl ! I never did such an act 
 of self-denial in my life as when I selected you for Jack. 
 It went hard with me, but I did it, and, my dear, before 
 God, I believe he s a good man, and that he will make 
 you happy. If I had been forty years or even twenty 
 younger, I would have seen him in the lowest section 
 of purgatory, or even of a still more uncomfortable 
 place, before 1 would have given you up." 
 
 " It was very funny," said Barbara, who had during 
 this speech recovered the sunniness of her disposition, 
 " that you and Jack should have so misunderstood each 
 other, when one word from either would have made every 
 thing clear. To think," she added, with a happy smile 
 that lit up her face with a radiance that would have 
 captivated a much less impressionable man than was 
 
"STOP, IF YOU LOVE ME!" 369 
 
 Mr. Oldmixon " to think that you should both have 
 meant me, and that each one should have thought the 
 other meant some one else I" 
 
 " Yes, it was very remarkable ; and yet, when I come 
 to think of it, not so very odd, after all. Men are such 
 stupendous asses ! They so rarely confide in each other ; 
 and then young men are still more asinine. The 
 chances are a thousand to one that if I had told Jack 
 that I had discovered an angel that I wanted him to 
 marry, and that her name was Barbara Henschel, he 
 would have turned up his nose and have said, c No, 
 thank you, I prefer Miss Bangs. ; 
 
 Barbara laughed merrily at this. " Where did you 
 ever hear of Miss Bangs?" she said. "She was my 
 rival in taxidermy." 
 
 " Yes, I know ; that is why I happened to hear of 
 her ; she is claiming to have done some of your best 
 work, and is, as the present proprietor of your late 
 business told me, injuring his establishment by her 
 lies." 
 
 "Oh, well," answered Barbara, "such conduct can 
 be only temporarily successful ; but what a despicable 
 creature !" 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Mr. Oldmixon, absently, as though 
 his thoughts were on something else. "It is very 
 strange, very strange," he continued, as if speaking to 
 himself ; then he drew a long breath and looked around 
 the room with a puzzled and somewhat wild expression 
 on his countenance. 
 
 For a moment Barbara was alarmed. The light from 
 the lamp on the table fell upon his face, and she saw the 
 change that had come over it. Then when Mr. Old 
 mixon the next instant took the little vial of nitrite of 
 16* 
 
370 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 amyl from his waistcoat pocket and held it to his nostrils, 
 she felt reassured, for she had seen him before in similar 
 attacks, and the inhalation of the medicine had always 
 appeared to give him relief. 
 
 " You are not ill, I hope, Mr. Oldmixon," she said, as 
 she rose and stood by his side. " Can I do anything 
 for you ? Will you have a glass of wine ?" 
 
 " No, no ; it is nothing, I assure you, but I have just 
 had another most remarkable experience. There s been 
 no one else in this room since we came in ?" 
 
 " No, no one." 
 
 " Not Miss Bangs ?" 
 
 " No, certainly not Miss Bangs." 
 
 " Well, while you were speaking just now of Miss 
 Bangs s conduct, 1 thought I saw her talking to my man 
 Thomas. They did not appear to me to be in this room, 
 although I asked the question in regard to her, for I 
 thought that if she had been here the fact would con 
 stitute a basis for what I imagined I saw. She and the 
 man seemed to me to be talking together in a shop, 
 not unlike the one you had. There w r as a counter at one 
 side of it and cases around the walls containing mounted 
 specimens of animals." 
 
 " That is a description of their shop." 
 
 " Yes, so I suppose. The girl was stoutly built, had 
 black eyes and hair, and was greatly over- dressed. 
 Around her neck she wore a heavy gold or yellow metal 
 chain, and she had large earrings of similar metal in her 
 ears." 
 
 " As well as I recollect, that describes Miss Bangs. 
 But I have only seen her once, and that was over a year 
 ago. You probably have had a short dream." 
 
 " No, it was not a dream ; it was just like my ex- 
 
"STOP*- IF YOU LOVE ME!" 871 
 
 perience at Saratoga, though shorter and less vivid. 1 
 saw the two distinctly, but, as on the other occasion, I 
 could not hear a word. Do you believe in the possibility 
 of my sitting here and seeing what is going on in Lake 
 Street, in New York?" 
 
 " No ; I do not believe in what are called supernatural 
 occurrences ; and for you in this house to see what is 
 going on in New York would be supernatural." 
 
 " Yes, judging from the standpoint of the little that 
 we know of nature s laws. But there may be natural 
 events which occur so seldom and only to certain per 
 sons that we regard them as supernatural simply out of 
 our ignorance. If I did not really see Miss Bangs and 
 my man Thomas talking together, how could I have 
 described the place and the lady so accurately ? For 
 to my knowledge I have never seen her or her 
 shop." 
 
 " 1 do not know, but it is possible that you have been 
 in the shop, and that you have seen Miss Bangs, and 
 that talking 1 of her to-day with Peter and then again 
 with me, and perhaps having some ideas of her running 
 through your head, you had the hallucination of seeing 
 her. This house was supposed by the whole neighbor 
 hood to be haunted, and the most wonderful and 
 apparently direct stories were told of the ghostly inhab 
 itants ; but we have never seen or heard anything of 
 them. Dr. Maddox helped us to get rid of them by 
 showing us how to improve the drainage." 
 
 " Then you don t believe in what the Scotch call 
 second-sight ?" 
 
 " I am not sure that I know what it is," answered 
 Barbara, laughing ; " but if it means sitting in this room 
 and seeing a man and a woman talking together in Lake 
 
372 MR. OLBMIXON. 
 
 Street, in New York, nearly twenty miles from here, I 
 certainly do not believe in it." 
 
 u "Well, well, I was hoping that you believed in it, for 
 it appears to my mind the only explanation of my vision 
 at Saratoga, all the particulars of which were confirmed 
 by my visit to Annapolis. Except one," he added, 
 after a moment s pause, " and that will be verified, I 
 think, within twenty-four hours. " 
 
 " Dr. Maddox would probably be able to explain it 
 to you. He has given great attention to such subjects. 
 It takes very little in some people to cause hallucina 
 tions. 
 
 " Yes, but this was not a hallucination, for it was 
 verified. Hallucinations are false. This was real." 
 
 " I do not know enough of the subject to be able to 
 talk about it, but 1 can conceive of a train of thought 
 originating in your mind and giving a corresponding 
 character to the hallucination. Were you never in An 
 napolis ?" 
 
 " 1 thought until a day or two past that I never had 
 been there, but I have discovered that I was in the place 
 about thirty years ago. I found a note addressed to me 
 there by a lady whom I knew ; and then the fact of my 
 having stopped at the very hotel at which my Camilla 
 was murdered came to my mind. I m quite sure, too, 
 that I occupied the very room that she did." 
 
 " And you knew when you were sitting on the lawn 
 at Saratoga that your nephew and his wife had gone to 
 Annapolis ?" 
 
 " Yes, I knew that they were probably there at that 
 moment, but all my knowledge cannot account for my 
 seeing him kill her." 
 
 " No ; but that has not yet been verified. You do not 
 
"STOP, IF YOU LOVE ME!" 373 
 
 know that lie did. 1 wish," she added, " that you could 
 get the idea out of your mind. Think what an awful 
 thing it will be for you to discover ! Is it not better 
 to remain in ignorance or doubt, rather than to confirm 
 your suspicions against a man who is your nephew and 
 and Jack s brother ?" 
 
 Now, Mr. Oldmixon had come to see Barbara with 
 the intention of discussing this very point with her, and 
 more than half inclined to yield to the suggestions or 
 entreaties that he felt sure she would address to him. 
 But, like Pharaoh, his heart had been hardened, and the 
 process of induration had been brought about by the real 
 or imaginary sight of Thomas and Miss Bangs convers 
 ing together, in the reality of which he fully believed. 
 He was just as sure that, on his return home, he would 
 extract the truth from his man as he was of his existence. 
 Furthermore, although he had had no supernatural 
 evidence of the circumstance, he was confident that 
 Hogarth and his man were in collusion, and that the 
 former had, under the idea that Miss Bangs was the 
 woman to whom his uncle had devised his estate, con 
 ceived a purpose of marrying her. This latter notion 
 had entered his mind while he was in the shop convers 
 ing with Peter. At first he had rejected it, but it had 
 forced itself, or been forced so strongly upon him, that 
 he had at last accepted it as true, and all the way out 
 to New Rochelle he had been thinking it over as an 
 event that would not be at all displeasing to him. He 
 chuckled to himself at the thought that both his nephew 
 and Miss Bangs would be punished by such an act, and 
 he determined that, so far from doing anything to pre 
 vent it, he would facilitate its consummation by every 
 means in his power. There was only one thing that was 
 
374 ME. OLDMIXOK. 
 
 likely to stand in the way, and that was the fact that in 
 all probability matters with Hogarth would be brought 
 to a crisis long before a marriage between him and Miss 
 Bangs could take place. 
 
 No, he would not relax in the severity of his method 
 with his murderous nephew ; not even Barbara s efforts 
 to induce him to be merciful should be successful. He 
 would go on till the wretch confessed, and then the fur 
 ther consequences might be what they might be ; he 
 would not regret them. 
 
 It did not take a tenth part of the time to determine 
 what answer to give Barbara as it has taken me to write 
 the account of the mental process by which his conclu 
 sion was reached. He rose from the chair as he spoke, 
 and looked at his watch. 
 
 " Good Heavens !" he exclaimed, " I have been here 
 nearly half an hour, and have barely time to catch the 
 train. Barbara, my dear I may surely call you Bar 
 bara, now that you are going to marry my dear boy I 
 shall see Jack to-morrow, and tell him how nicely we 
 have been brought to an understanding. As to the 
 other matter, if Hogarth is innocent his innocence will 
 appear ; if he is guilty, he will deserve all he can receive 
 in this world or in the next. Good-by ; God bless you, 
 my dear." He held her hand in his, and drawing her 
 toward him, kissed her forehead. Then he turned away, 
 and was going to leave the room when a thought 
 occurred to him that caused him to retrace his steps. 
 He came closer to her and spoke almost in a whisper, 
 though with great energy and distinctness. 
 
 " That s a bad woman," he said, " that Bangs girl. 
 Hogarth has got an inkling of the contents of my will, 
 but he has made a mistake in the woman. He thinks 1 
 
375 
 
 have made her the heiress of my estate, and he intends 
 to marry her if he can." 
 
 " But how do you know all this ?" 
 
 " I don t know. It all seems to come to me as a kind 
 of inspiration that I cannot explain, and, after all, it may 
 be only a guess. I shall find out the truth as soon as I 
 get home ; for Thomas is a great coward, and I shall 
 make him tell me everything he knows. 
 
 " Oh, yes !" exclaimed Barbara. " Find it out, and 
 then save her from such a marriage if there is any dan 
 ger of it." 
 
 Mr. Oldmixon looked at her very sharply for a moment 
 before he spoke. 
 
 " That s a very creditable notion of yours, my dear," 
 he said at last. " All women should be merciful, espe 
 cially to their own sex. But this girl is a mean, con 
 temptible, dishonest, unscrupulous, and degraded person, 
 who is altogether unworthy of your consideration. She 
 has been stealing your reputation and lying like a Turk 
 to advance herself at your expense. She s entitled to 
 no mercy, and, by Heaven ! she shall not have any. She 
 shall marry Hogarth. I m going to do all in my power 
 to help the match along. No, no !" as Barbara attempted 
 to speak, " she shall have her reward. Good-by ! 
 Another minute and I ll miss that train. I ll be up 
 again in a few days ;" and he was gone without giving 
 her the opportunity of saying a word. 
 
 Barbara stood for a moment undecided what to do. 
 Then she ran down to the door and called after Mr. 
 Oldmixon, but the carriage was driving rapidly away 
 from the house, and he probably did not hear her voice. 
 Doubtless he would not have returned even if he had 
 heard her. More than ever before did she recognize the 
 
876 MR, OLDMIXON. 
 
 fact that his mind, if not positively deranged, was 
 certainly a very different one from any other with which 
 she was acquainted. His likes and his hates were equally 
 powerful ; he was as unscrupulous in his way as he 
 thought Miss Bangs to be, or even his nephew Hogarth. 
 In the accomplishment of his ideas of revenge or punish 
 ment he stopped at nothing. He was, she thought, a bad 
 man. She did not want his money, and she resolved 
 that if, by any chance, it came to her direct and she 
 could not get it unless Jack were unfaithful to her, and 
 that was an impossibility she would give it away to 
 some charitable institution where it would serve in 
 some measure as an atonement for the sins of its former 
 possessor. As it was, she resolved that she would beg 
 Jack to refuse to be his uncle s heir unless he at once 
 renounced all his schemes against Hogarth and Miss 
 Bangs. And furthermore she determined that she 
 would see that young woman in the morning and put 
 her on her guard against Hogarth. She had never made 
 Miss Bangs s acquaintance, and from what she had heard 
 of her, did not wish to do so. But she reasoned, if Miss 
 Bangs was the quintessence of vulgarity, and if she had 
 been mean enough to claim as her own, work that she 
 had not^ done, it was no reason that she should be in 
 veigled into a marriage with a man whom everybody 
 united in regarding as thoroughly wicked and disrepu 
 table. Miss Bangs s offence had been committed against 
 her, and it was for her to resent it, and not Mr. Old- 
 mixon, who, she perceived, was more anxious to spring 
 a trap on his nephew than to further the ends of justice. 
 She thought she saw, too, that Mr. Oldmixon in all 
 things was morbidly anxious that his plans should 
 succeed, and that this was the chief, if not the only 
 
"STOP, IF YOU LOVE ME!" 377 
 
 motive that prompted him to favor her marriage with 
 Jack. He had seen her, had taken a fancy to her, and 
 had then, without consulting her, set about to arrange 
 for her marriage with a man she had never seen. The 
 more she thought of this matter, the more indignant she 
 felt at the liberty he had taken. True, events had 
 moved in accordance with his wishes, but, she thanked 
 God, entirely independently of any agency of his. 
 When she had discovered that she was the woman that 
 he wished Jack to marry she felt glad, especially for her 
 lover s sake, that a possibly disturbing factor had been 
 taken out of their path. She had perceived rather the 
 ludicrous side of the situation to the exclusion of other 
 and more important points. Now, however, reflection 
 was coming to her aid ; and as she walked up and down 
 the long parlor, and bent her mind to the consideration 
 of the issues before her, she felt annoyed with herself 
 that she had not seen more deeply into the subject at 
 first, and given Mr. Oldmixon some knowledge of the dis 
 pleasure she felt at the liberty he had taken in attempt 
 ing to dispose of her in marriage without her consent. 
 
 But Barbara was not one of those persons that see 
 only one side of a question. She believed that Mr. 
 Oldmixon really liked her. Whatever might be his 
 reasons, the fact was undoubted. She felt kindly toward 
 him for this. It was her nature to try to like those that 
 liked her. Besides, he was Jack s uncle, and as such 
 entitled to her prepossessions and to all the respect that 
 she could conscientiously give. 
 
 And one point had more influence with her than any 
 other. The more she saw of Mr. Oldmixon, the more 
 she was convinced that he was not entirely responsible 
 for his actions. She believed that he could control 
 
378 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 them within certain limits, but that after a time the 
 impulse to persevere became overpowering ; his ideas 
 were then to him imperative conceptions that he could 
 not resist, and which carried him along in spite of the 
 efforts he might make to break from them. From this 
 point of view he was more to be pitied than blamed, but 
 she did not lose sight of the fact that there was a time 
 when he might have controlled them, and when he wil 
 fully allowed his evil impulses to govern him. 
 
 As to his pretended visions or second- sights, or what 
 ever else he choose to call them, she did not believe in 
 them at all. She perceived that there was a certain 
 basis of reality about them that was clearly the result of 
 vivid recollections that had faded from his mind. She 
 saw, too, that he was full of suspicions against those 
 persons he disliked, and especially against his nephew 
 Hogarth, whom he evidently thought was capable of any 
 atrocity that could be conceived by the mind of man. 
 Endowed with high imaginative powers, he had engrafted 
 on his recollection of localities, such as that of the hotel 
 at Annapolis and Miss Bangs s shop, some one of the 
 many fancies that were continually forming in his brain, 
 and had adopted it as truth. " Perhaps," she thought, 
 " it may be that his intuitions as 1 have heard they 
 sometimes are in insane persons are wonderfully acute. 
 1 do not know that they could be so penetrating and 
 exact as to indicate to him not only the fact that his, 
 nephew Hogarth murdered his wife, but also the way 
 in which he did the deed and all the steps of the 
 procedure ; but it may be possible. I cannot tell. If 
 it should turn out that he is right, it will be very wonder 
 ful ; but till I know that his nephew is a murderer I 
 shall try to keep my judgment in reserve. Thus far 
 
" STOP, IF YOU LOYE ME !" 379 
 
 nothing has been established by either of his visions that 
 might not have been based upon actual knowledge. Yes, 
 there is one thing : it was a clear day at Saratoga, and 
 he saw it raining at Annapolis at the time of Mrs. 
 Oldmixon s death, and it was raining. But this," she 
 added, after thinking for a moment, " may have been a 
 coincidence. It would be very horrible if he should 
 drive Hogarth to confess ; and oh !" she went on, clasp 
 ing her hands together in her excitement, " how infinite 
 ly more horrible it would be if he should, by his per 
 sistence, make an innocent man insane, and drive him to 
 the confession of a crime he never committed !" 
 
 Once this idea had founu a lodgment in her mind she 
 experienced an impossibility of getting rid of it. She 
 was sure that she had arrived at the correct view of the 
 result of the mental tortures that Mr. Oldmixoii was 
 inflicting upon his nephew, but she did not see her way 
 clear to helping the sufferer. She had every reason for 
 believing that he was a bad man. Enough was known 
 of him from evidence that was indisputable to satisfy her 
 on this point ; but notwithstanding this fact she felt that 
 her sympathies were strongly exercised in his favor, and 
 that it was her bounden duty to do what she could to 
 save him from the fate that was impending over him. 
 Of course she thought of interesting Jack in some 
 scheme that they might both agree upon and that 
 would be calculated to circumvent his uncle s machina 
 tions. And, above all, she must warn Miss Bangs of the 
 plot against her. 
 
 Mr. lienschel came home in time for a late dinner, 
 and then Barbara, who had no secrets from her father, 
 told him of Mr. Oldmixon s visit, of the nature of her 
 conversation with him, and of the fears that she enter- 
 
380 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 tained. Mr. Henscliel was, in liis way, as straightfor 
 ward as liis daughter was in hers, and his advice was 
 that she should write a letter to Mr. Oldmixon, in which 
 she should unburden her mind of what was on it, and 
 appeal to him to allow Hogarth to rest in peace. She 
 wrote the letter that night. It was long, and covered 
 every part of the matter with that thoroughness that 
 only those who know what they want to say and know 
 how to say it are able to exhibit. Among other points 
 that she brought forward was one that related to the 
 policy of Mr. Oldmixon s course. " What advantage," 
 she wrote, " can it be to a family to let the world know 
 that it has a murderer among its members, and to incur 
 the odium that attaches to a public trial and a shameful 
 death on the gallows ? You may talk to me of the virtue 
 of a Brutus who could condemn his own son to death ; 
 but, then, Brutus was a judge charged under his oath 
 with the administration of the law. Even in his case I 
 think he would better have shown his humanity by 
 resigning his office and leaving to some other less in 
 terested magistrate the awful duty that he took upon 
 himself. But you have no excuse for your conduct. 
 You do not know that your nephew is guilty, but you 
 have started out for the purpose of proving him so by 
 his own confession, or at least of making him confess, 
 no matter whether he be guilty or not guilty. It will 
 not be difficult for you to succeed in this, for I have read 
 that, many years ago, the reiterated accusation of being 
 a witch or a sorcerer was sufficient to wring confession 
 from innocent women and men, even though they knew 
 that the stake and the fagot were waiting for them. If 
 physical torture will force an innocent person to confess, 
 how much more will mental torture bring a like result ? 
 
"STOP, IF YOU LOVE ME 
 
 381 
 
 " I thought once that I should like you. You are the 
 uncle of the man 1 love better than I love any other 
 person in all the world, and as such you are entitled to 
 my affectionate regard. You are possessed of many 
 engaging qualities; you have exhibited toward me a 
 degree of kindness for which I am grateful, and 1 am 
 anxious to stand well with you. You have several times 
 spoken of my influence with you and of the pleasure it 
 gave you to do anything that would aid in securing my 
 happiness. This is the first time I have appealed to you, 
 and I do it now, not only because of the object I have 
 in view, but because you have, by your goodness to me, 
 allowed me to think that 1 should not have to ask in 
 vain. Therefore I beg of you, by whatever considera 
 tion you may have for the honor of your family, by 
 whatever regard for the principles of justice, by what 
 ever affection for me, to stop all further efforts to fix the 
 crime of murder on your nephew. If he is guilty, God 
 will in His own due time search him with a thorough 
 ness compared to which your attempts to reach the truth 
 are vain and blind and shallow. Besides, has He not said, 
 Vengeance is mine, I will repay ? 
 
 " In my own humble way I have written. I cannot 
 plead eloquently with you, for I am not skilled in niceties 
 of speech, and perhaps in much that I have said I 
 have shown a lack of that tact that goes for so much 
 with those that are suppliants. But 1 have at least writ 
 ten honestly, and with a desire to have you do what I 
 conceive to be right. May He who is all goodness and 
 mercy incline your heart to that charity that thinketh 
 
 no evil. 
 
 " Your sincere friend, 
 
 " BARBARA HENSCHEL." 
 
382 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 She left her letter so that it would be taken to the post- 
 office the first thing in the morning, and then went to 
 bed content with what she had done thus far, but resolved 
 to bring all the batteries to bear on Mr. Oldmixon that 
 she could place in position in order to make him 
 renounce his scheme for extorting confession from his 
 nephew Hogarth. 
 
CHAPTER XXYL 
 
 " MY GOD ! WHICH SHALL IT BE ?" 
 
 MR. OLDMIXON, immediately on his return to his resi 
 dence, went to the library and rang the bell for his man 
 Thomas. He had stopped at the Luculhis Club and 
 taken his dinner, so that it was nearly ten o clock when, 
 in answer to his summons, Thomas entered the room. 
 Mr. Oldmixon was seated at his table engaged in turning 
 over the leaves of the manuscript of his novel, to which 
 he was apparently giving the deepest attention. The 
 man had been standing for several minutes waiting for 
 his presence to be recognized, but Mr. Oldmixon seemed 
 to have no thought for anything but the matter before 
 him, for he went on making interlineations and erasures, 
 as though entirely oblivious of the fact that he had rung 
 for the man. At last, having possibly by some intui 
 tion become aware of the fact that the man was in the 
 room for he had not looked toward him or else satis 
 fied with the part of indifference he had been acting, 
 without raising his eyes from the papers before him or 
 ceasing his work he said : 
 
 " Thomas!" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " How long have you been in my service ?" 
 
 " Eleven years, sir, next Christmas. You know, sir, 
 1 came on Christmas, because you wanted two men 
 for that day, and you were so much pleased with me 
 
384 ME. OLDMIXOST. 
 
 that yon sent the other man away and gave me the 
 place." 
 
 " Oh, yes, so 1 did ! Well, Thomas, 1 am very much 
 afraid that on that occasion I made a big fool of myself, 
 and that instead of your being a good, honest, and faith 
 ful fellow, you re the damnedest scoundrel that lives 
 outside of the penitentiary." 
 
 "Sir!" 
 
 " Yes, Thomas," continued Mr. Oldmixon, with the 
 most indifferent manner imaginable, and still going on 
 with his work, never having yet even so much as looked 
 at the man, "I am forced to the conclusion that, as 
 you are such a devilish traitor and villain, it will be con 
 ducive to the cause of morality, as I know it will be to 
 my interests, that you should within the next half hour 
 take your horrid person off my premises. You will find 
 a month s wages there on the corner of the mantel 
 piece. Go, and never let me lay eyes on you again." 
 
 "But," stammered the astounded Thomas, "what 
 have I done, sir ?" And then bursting into tears, " It s 
 too bad that, after I ve done my duty for eleven years, I 
 should be abused in this way and dismissed without being 
 told what for !" 
 
 " Oh," exclaimed Mr. Oldmixon, rising from his 
 chair and approaching the man till he stood at the dis 
 tance of a couple of feet from him, while he fixed his 
 eyes on him as though he would, if he could, pierce him 
 through and through " oh, you re in an inquiring 
 frame of mind to-night, are you ? Well, you shall be 
 gratified. You went to see a woman named Bangs this 
 evening a bird-stuffer in Lake Street !" 
 
 "Yes, sir; I" 
 
 " That will do. Who sent you ?" 
 
"MY GOD! WHICH SHALL IT BE?" 385 
 
 " I went, sir " 
 
 " Who sent you ?" thundered Mr. Oldrnixon. 
 
 " Mr. Hogarth, sir," answered the man, thoroughly 
 terrified at the violence exhibited by his master. 
 
 " What for?" 
 
 " Oh, sir, I only went to see if she was the young 
 woman that brought an animal here that she had stuffed 
 for Mr. Jack ! She thought this was where he lived." 
 
 " Then she has been in this house ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, and she saw the bird that you had mounted, 
 and she said she had done it." 
 
 " She said she had stuffed that bird !" shrieked Mr. 
 Oldmixon. " Oh, the liar the horrid liar !" And he 
 raised his hands as though completely dumbfounded at 
 the enormity of the offence. 
 
 (As we know that Mr. Oldmixon was already aware 
 of this claim of Miss Bangs, it is safe to assume that the 
 emotion exhibited was not so sincere as it appeared to 
 be.) 
 
 " Yes, sir," continued the wily Thomas, relieved to 
 find Mr. Oldmixon s anger diverted from himself, 
 " she said she had done it, and she told me the same 
 thing to-night." 
 
 i i And you came home and told it to Mr. Hogarth, I 
 suppose, and that was what you went to find out, eh ? 
 
 " Yes, sir ; I didn t think there was any harm in it. 
 Mr. Hogarth wanted to know if she was the one that 
 came here." 
 
 " !N"ow, sir, what did Mr. Hogarth tell you was his 
 object?" resumed Mr. Oldmixon, satisfied now that, 
 having sufficiently terrified the man, he should get the 
 truth. 
 
 " He said, sir, that he had a little joke to play-off on 
 17 
 
386 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 you, sir. That was all, and I didn t suppose there was 
 anything wrong." 
 
 66 How much did he give you for being a traitor to 
 your employer ?" 
 
 Sir, 1" 
 
 " How much did he give you ?" repeated Mr. Old- 
 mixon, in a louder and more severe voice. 
 
 " Twenty dollars, sir." 
 
 " And how much more are you to get ?" 
 
 " A hundred dollars, sir." 
 
 " Ah !" said Mr. Oldmixon, resuming his seat and 
 going on with his work, satisfied that he had gotten all 
 the information to be obtained from the man ; " you 
 may remain in my service on one condition, and that is, 
 that you say nothing of all this to Mr. Hogarth, that 
 you tell me of everything he says and does in regard to 
 this Bangs girl, and that you take this piece of paper to 
 him and tell him you found it lying on my desk among 
 some other memoranda. If you do these things faith 
 fully 1 will not only keep you in my service, but I will 
 give you two hundred dollars, and perhaps only per 
 haps, remember I may mention you in my will." 
 
 " Thank you, sir," replied Thomas, with the cheerful 
 ness natural to a man who had happily escaped from a 
 dangerous position. " I ll do anything you wish me to 
 do, sir. Shall I give him the paper now, sir ?" 
 
 " ~No ; wait till to-morrow morning. Then go to him 
 very quietly, and when no one is near, and slip this piece 
 of paper into his hand, saying that you found it on my 
 desk, and that you think it may be of some importance." 
 Mr. Oldmixon looked over the paper carefully, and this 
 is what he read : 
 
 " Memorandum for Mr. Ridley. Entire estate, real, 
 
"MY GOD! WHICH SHALL IT BE?" 387 
 
 personal, and mixed, to go to my nephew John Oldmixon, 
 provided that before my death or within one year after 
 that event he marries Bangs. 
 
 "In case he shall, from any cause whatever, fail to 
 marry said . Bangs, then the said - - Bangs to re 
 ceive the entire estate as aforesaid." 
 
 " Did you find out Miss Bangs s first name ?" he said 
 to Thomas, while he still continued to look at the paper. 
 
 "Yes, sir ; it s Lena." 
 
 Mr. Oldmixon took a pen and filled in the blanks. 
 " Lena Bangs," he said ; " that s all right now. Now, 
 sir," turning to Thomas, "you may have heard that 
 I m a crank, or not quite sound in my mind, or some 
 thing of the kind. Well, perhaps I m not quite right 
 in the upper story, but I m just the sort of a man that 
 will poison you, or bring you to some other violent and 
 sudden death, if you play me false in this affair in the 
 slightest particular. 
 
 " You are to give this paper to Mr. Hogarth, as I 
 have told you ; you are to listen to what he says and 
 observe his actions, and then you are to come and report 
 everything to me. Now go." 
 
 He handed the paper to Thomas, and the man, with a 
 low bow, went off, glad to have escaped so easily, and 
 wondering how Mr. Oldmixon had obtained the knowl 
 edge of his doings that afternoon. 
 
 The next morning, as Hogarth was leaving his room, 
 he saw Thomas standing near the head of the stairs, as 
 though waiting for him. 
 
 "1 got your note," he said, as he joined the man. 
 " You are quite sure she s the woman ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, sir ; there s no doubt of that. But I ve 
 something else, sir. Last night, after Mr. Oldmixon 
 
388 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 had gone to bed, I discovered that lie had done some 
 thing that 1 never knew him to do before he had 
 
 forgotten to lock his desk. 1 looked through it, and 1 
 found this piece of paper, and as I thought it might 
 be of importance to you, 1 took it." 
 
 As he spoke he handed the slip to Hogarth. 
 
 The latter ran his eye over the writing, and at once 
 his countenance showed the pleasure that the persual 
 gave him. 
 
 " This," he exclaimed, " is worth all the rest. Now, 
 1 know just what I ve got to do. Thomas, I ll reward 
 you handsomely for this. Now, take it and put it back 
 exactly where you found it. My uncle might miss it, 
 and then there would be trouble. I know it by heart, 
 and it s of no further use to me." 
 
 Before becoming acquainted with the writing on the 
 little slip of paper Hogarth had felt a degree of mental 
 discomfort such as he had never before experienced. 
 He had passed a wretched night. All through the 
 hours that ought to have been passed in sleep he had 
 been in that state of semi-unconsciousness during which 
 the imagination, little, if at all, controlled by the judg 
 ment, runs riot with the thoughts. Fancies of the most 
 horrible description had taken possession of him, and 
 several times he had, in his fright, jumped from the 
 bed and rushed terror-stricken to a distant part of the 
 room in his effort to escape from the phantoms that he 
 imagined he saw hovering over him, but which, as they 
 disappeared as soon as he was fully awake, he knew 
 must be only the fictions of dreams. The moment he 
 lay down again they reappeared, and though he tried 
 to fight them off by appeals to his reason, they were 
 so vivid and the impression they produced was so strong 
 
" MY GOD ! WHICH SHALL IT BE " 
 
 that a long contest was impossible, and, time after time, 
 they forced him to accept them as realities. 
 
 But there was one that, amid them all, kept its place. 
 Lying or standing, asleep or awake, he saw the face of 
 his wife as she had given him that last look ere he had 
 hidden it with the pillow and shut out its gaze from 
 earth forever. There was no body, there was not even 
 a head ; there was nothing but the face, with its terri 
 fied, despairing, pleading expression a face that showed 
 that its possessor knew that her last moment had come, 
 that had perceived the look that was on his face, and was 
 reflecting the knowledge that there was no mercy for 
 her. 
 
 "My God!" he exclaimed, after he had passed 
 several hours of agony, "is there no escape for me?" 
 He shut his eyes, but the face was still there, immov 
 able, unchanged, without the slightest variation in its 
 expression, and looking, for all the world, as though it 
 were carved in stone. He covered his own face with 
 his hands, with the bedclothes, but hers was still before 
 him. 
 
 " I cannot stand this very long," he said, as he arose 
 from the bed for perhaps the twentieth time that night. 
 1 I shall lose my mind if I am always to be haunted in 
 this way. And I had got over it all till that torturer 
 began his schemes and brought back ideas that 1 had 
 banished, as I thought, forever. I am afraid of him. 
 Yes, that is it. His allusions are so significant that he 
 must, in some way or other, have discovered something. 
 But how ? 
 
 " My God ! he may have heard me talk in my sleep. 
 There is no other way. Some night, or perhaps on 
 several nights, he has been in this room, has stood by 
 
390 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 the side of my bed, and heard me tell the whole story 
 in my dreams. And that is what he invited me here 
 for. He had suspicions, and he was determined, if 
 possible, to verify them. 
 
 Well, he has gained his point," he continued, as 
 he lit the gas and walked np and down the floor, " but 
 the battle is not yet over. I may still escape, and there 
 are two ways open to me. One involves his life ; the 
 other, my own. Either would give me peace. Which 
 shall it be ? My God ! which shall it be ?" 
 
 Unconscious of the hideous sin he had committed in 
 asking God to decide for him whether he should per 
 petrate a murder or a suicide, he sat down in front of 
 his dressing-table, and in the full blaze of the gaslight 
 studied his face. 
 
 " It looks like the face of a guilty man," he said, with 
 a despairing expression of voice. " I would pick it out 
 from a thousand as that of a man with a crime on his 
 soul and in terror for his life." 
 
 Pie sat for a long while before the glass, apparently 
 thinking deeply of the alternatives that had been pre 
 sented to his mind. Then he unbuttoned the collar of 
 his night-gown, and turning his head to one side, looked 
 at his neck, and then felt it carefully with the ends of 
 his fingers. 
 
 "It is here," he said, in a whisper; "I feel its 
 throb." His dressing-case was before him, and opening 
 it, he took out a razor, while the fingers of the other 
 hand remained on his neck over the carotid artery. 
 
 " It would be the easiest thing in the world to do," he 
 said. " A single motion of the hand, and all would be 
 over. No pain, no consciousness after the gash is made, 
 and a sudden and absolute cessation of all misery." 
 
"MY GOD! WHICH SHALL IT BE?" 391 
 
 He laid the edge of the razor on his neck and held it 
 there, while he watched it rise and fall with the pulsa 
 tions of the artery beneath it. 
 
 "Why don t I do it?" he said, hoarsely. "I m 
 not afraid of the future. Hell can t be worse than this 
 night, and, after all, there may be no hell. It would 
 be leaving a certainty of torment for an uncertainty, and 
 that would be a good exchange. A little stronger press 
 ure of the hand, and then oblivion. 
 
 " No," he exclaimed, throwing the razor into a corner 
 of the room and springing to his feet, " it were better 
 his life than mine. I ll drown my sorrows in another 
 crime, just as the drunkard straightens himself up with 
 another drink. His face would not trouble me, and 
 perhaps it would drive hers away. Yes, his doom is 
 sealed. I ll marry the Bangs girl, secretly, before she 
 knows that she is his heiress, and then I ll quickly ex 
 tinguish his life, as 1 did that of of the other. It s 
 the best way, and, as he has so assiduously endeavored to 
 teach me, leaves no signs. Besides, he is known to have 
 heart-disease. I ll go to his room at night, as he has 
 come to mine. I ll pay him off in his own coin, and 
 with compound interest." 
 
 Strange as it may seem, Hogarth felt a degree of 
 mental repose after he had arrived at the determination 
 to smother his uncle, such as he had not experienced 
 before for several days. The phantoms disappeared, and 
 even the face became less distinct, until, passing through 
 all stages of haziness, it finally disappeared altogether. 
 It was now broad daylight, and he had not had ten 
 minutes complete sleep during the whole night. He did 
 not care to go back to bed, for his mind was so full of the 
 thoughts engendered by the determination to which he 
 
392 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 had come, that he was sure sleep would be unattainable ; 
 so he went into the dressing-room adjoining, and turn 
 ing on the cold water in the bath-tub, got into it and 
 stayed there long enough to have seriously injured the 
 health of weaker or less excited persons, but which, on 
 him, had no other effect than to cool his heated skin 
 and lessen the force and frequency of a pulse that was 
 feverish in its quality. 
 
 When he emerged from the bath, the temperature of 
 which, was not many degrees above the freezing-point, 
 and after he had brought about the proper degree of 
 reaction by rubbing himself with coarse towels, he felt 
 like a new man, and fully equal to the performance of 
 the task that he had assigned to himself. He dressed 
 himself, and going out into the hall on his way to the 
 breakfast-room, encountered Thomas, as we have seen, 
 and had received intelligence that had still further added 
 to his sense of lien aise and strengthened him in his 
 resolution to bring matters to a crisis. This piece of 
 information was the only thing needed to make him 
 absolutely sure that he was on the right track. Evidently 
 it had been a memorandum for Mr. Ridley for his guid 
 ance in preparing the draft of the will, and it settled the 
 point definitely in favor of Miss Bangs. He therefore 
 entered the breakfast-room feeling that he was now 
 more than a match for his uncle, and resolved to let 
 nothing that might be said to him disturb the equanim 
 ity that he knew was essential to the success of the 
 schemes he had in view. 
 
 Mr. Oldmixon was sitting in an arm-chair near the 
 window, reading a morning newspaper. On his nephew s 
 entrance he threw it aside and greeted him with all the 
 fervor of which he was capable. 
 
U MY GOD! WHICH SHALL IT BE?" 393 
 
 " Come in, my dear boy. I m glad to see you look 
 ing so well. Ton my honor, 1 never saw you look 
 better. What do you say to going to the theatre this 
 evening ?" 
 
 I should be delighted, " answered Hogarth. Shall 
 I get a box as I go down-town this morning ?" 
 
 " Yes, suppose you do. By the by, you ve got to go 
 down to Kidley s office, haven t you, about the will ? 
 Don t forget that, whatever you do. You know I may 
 go now at any moment, and there s nothing like having 
 things in readiness. You can take my coupe, as I think 
 I ll stay at home this morning. Stop at Booth s Theatre 
 on your way down, and get a box for to-night. Salvini 
 plays Othello" he glanced furtively at Hogarth as he 
 spoke these words " and he does the smothering 
 scene with wonderful naturalness. You ll know as much 
 about it, my dear boy, after you see him press the pillow 
 over Desdemona s face, as though you had done the very 
 same thing yourself." 
 
 This was the most direct speech on the subject that 
 Mr. Oldmixon had yet made to his nephew, and the 
 effect was even more decided than he had anticipated. 
 He saw from Hogarth s manner that he had come into 
 the room prepared to resist all assaults of the kind and 
 resolved to brave it out to the last, and he, in his turn, 
 had determined to give him, at the very outset, a blow 
 that would probably have some effect in lessening his 
 self-confidence. 
 
 At the mention of the play of Othello, Hogarth s face 
 had blanched with fear, for he well knew what was 
 coming. He had, more than a year before, seen the 
 terribly realistic acting of Salvini, and the remembrance 
 of it had more than once since his own murderous act 
 
 17* 
 
394 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 been brought to liis mind. Before his uncle had finished 
 speaking he was trembling like an aspen leaf all of 
 which was duly observed by Mr. Oldmixon and had 
 determined that nothing should make him see the great 
 actor again in that part. As the last words fell upon his 
 ears the pallor of his countenance approached that of 
 death ; he rose to his feet, and then, with a low, inarticu 
 late cry, he dropped upon the floor, as though he had 
 been shot, and lay there, his face changed to a livid hue 
 and frightfully distorted, his limbs jerking spasmodically, 
 as though moved by a powerful galvanic battery, and his 
 mind a blank to everything that was going on about 
 him. 
 
 Mr. Oldmixon sat and looked at the struggling form 
 before him, apparently unmoved by the frightful sight. 
 He seemed to be engaged in studying the various con 
 tortions that the arms and legs were undergoing, and 
 imagining to himself what would be the next expression 
 that the face of the unconscious man would assume. 
 Then suddenly an idea occurred to him. 
 
 " This will never do !" he exclaimed " dying with 
 out confessing. Oh, no ; 1 can never allow that !" He 
 got up from his chair with as much celerity as was 
 attainable, and rang the bell. Then he took the little 
 vial of the nitrite of amyl from his waistcoat pocket, and 
 pouring a few drops on his hand, held it over Hogarth s 
 mouth. By this time Thomas had answered the bell. 
 
 " Mr. Hogarth has a fit, or something of the kind," 
 said Mr. Oldmixon to the man. " Loosen his cravat 
 and bring that pillow from the lounge and put it under 
 his head. 
 
 "He s coming round," he continued, as he noticed 
 that the purple hue of the face was disappearing, and that 
 
"MY GOD! WHICH SHALL IT BE?" 395 
 
 the convulsive movements were less violent. He ll be 
 all right in a moment or two. Go and tell Dan to come 
 and help you to carry him up to his own room and lay 
 him on the bed." 
 
 But before Thomas could go on this errand the sick 
 man opened his eyes, and looking wildly about him, began 
 to talk incoherently, a word or two only being occasionally 
 distinguishable, while the rest was a mass of thick gut 
 tural gibberish. Then he raised himself on his elbow, 
 and with Thomas s assistance managed to assume the 
 erect posture and to stand supported by the man s arm, 
 though his legs trembled as though they would every 
 moment give way under him. 
 
 " Do you feel better, my dear boy ?" said Mr. Old- 
 mixon, in a sympathizing voice. " 1 was just about to 
 have you carried up-stairs to your room, where you will 
 be more comfortable. But perhaps you would prefer 
 to stay here ? Yes ? Put the pillow back on the lounge, 
 Thomas, and help Mr. Hogarth to make himself comfort 
 able. 1 had no idea you were subject to such turns. 
 You will have to see a doctor. Don t send for Jimnay, 
 whatever you do. He s an ass, and liked to have killed 
 me a week or so ago. Besides, he s got the dyspepsia, 
 and a doctor with a bad stomach always has a bad heart. 
 Get Milledge ; he s the only doctor in New York that 
 knows anything. He ll charge you twenty-five dollars 
 for the first visit, but when he s gone you ll feel that 
 you ve had the worth of your money. Shall I send for 
 him, my dear boy ? So sorry you should be so afflicted !" 
 By this time Hogarth had been led to the lounge and 
 was about lying down on it. He turned toward his 
 uncle as the question reached his ears, and looked at him 
 stupidly for a moment ; then he let his head fall on the 
 
396 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 pillow, and in an instant was in a heavy sleep, or rather 
 stupor, if a judgment could be formed from the charac 
 ter of his breathing and the dull, stolid, vacant expression 
 on his turgid and still livid face. 
 
 Mr. Oldmixon went on with his breakfast, and having 
 
 O 
 
 finished it, he gave a look at his nephew, who was still 
 insensible and breathing heavily. " It s only the stupor 
 after the fit, " he said to himself, as he went to the library. 
 " I had an aunt that used to have one every Sunday 
 morning, just as regularly as the day came round, and the 
 stupor lasted till late in the afternoon. It s epilepsy, and 
 it s in the Oldmixon family, along with the other nice 
 heritages they possess. I ll not bother him with a doctor. 
 But, by George ! how that Shakesperian shot told ! If 
 it hadn t been for the fit he would have confessed then 
 and there. It was on his mind to do so I know by 
 that look that he gave me just before he went to sleep. 
 He couldn t collect his thoughts. He knew there was 
 something, but he couldn t tell what it was. 1 heard him 
 say f Camilla and pillow while he was still on the 
 floor and trying to talk. O you scoundrel !" he con 
 tinued, as he seated himself at his desk and began work 
 ing on his manuscript, " you black-hearted murderer, I ll 
 bring you to it, if you have to suffer the torments of the 
 damned, and then you will not have half atoned for your 
 cruel crime. I should like to be present with him at 
 Sal vim s performance of the part of Othello. By Heaven ! 
 I believe it would kill him." 
 
 He had not been engaged more than a few minutes 
 when Thomas entered with the morning s letters. There 
 were half a dozen, all for Mr. Oldmixon. He scarcely 
 looked at them, but went on with his alterations in his 
 manuscript, so that a half hour had elapsed before he 
 
"MY GOD! WHICH SHALL IT BE" 397 
 
 turned his attention to the communications, still un 
 opened, that lay before him. 
 
 Then he slit up their envelopes with a paper-knife, and 
 read a line or two of each, so as to see that it was of no 
 importance, till he came to one post-marked New 
 Kochelle, and directed in a handwriting which, though 
 he had never seen it before, he knew was Barbara s. 
 
 " Ah !" he exclaimed, pressing it to his lips, " the 
 angel writes to me. What is there that 1 would not do 
 for her ? Nothing absolutely nothing ! If she were to 
 ask me to put a millstone around my neck and jump into 
 the East River, I d do it at once. Let me see what the 
 sweet girl wants." 
 
 He opened the letter as he had the others, but, unlike 
 his actions with them, he read it through carefully to the 
 end. Then he laid it down on the desk, and shutting 
 his eyes, lay back in the chair to think. For nearly an 
 hour he remained abstracted from the consideration of 
 every other subject but the contents of Barbara s letter. 
 Then, taking the letter he read it again, still more slowly 
 than before, and holding it in his hand, paced the floor, 
 stopping now and then to read parts of it again. At 
 last he appeared to have made up his mind what to do, 
 for he went to his desk and wrote two letters one to 
 Barbara and one to Jack. 
 
 That to Barbara was as follows : 
 
 1 MY DEAR BARBARA : I have read your dear letter, 
 and have been greatly impressed by what you say. I 
 should be very glad if I could see you again. Will not 
 you and your father dine with me at six o clock on Friday 
 evening next 2 I make the hour early, because you will 
 then be able to return home by the eleven P.M. train. 
 
MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 After dinner I shall be delighted to read you a chapter 
 of my novel. My carriage will meet you at the station, 
 and will take you back. I have invited Jack, and of 
 course he will come. You will also have an opportunity 
 of making the acquaintance of my nephew Hogarth, in 
 whom you are so much interested. 
 " Yours affectionately, 
 
 " YICTOR CONST ANTINE OLDMIXON." 
 
 To Jack he wrote : 
 
 "Mr DEAR JACK: Dine with me to-morrow at six. 
 I have invited Barbara and her father. 1 wish your 
 opinion on certain parts of my novel, which I am now 
 preparing for the press. I propose to read them to you 
 after dinner. 
 
 " You will also meet your brother Hogarth. I am 
 sure it is only necessary for me to tell you this in order 
 to increase your anxiety to be present. The virtue of 
 forgiveness is one that need not be urged upon so good 
 a man as you. Come, therefore, with the resolution to 
 take him again into your heart. Bury the hatchet, Jack. 
 I am burying all mine, and getting ready therefore to face 
 my Maker ; but I find the process requires a larger grave 
 yard than I at first expected. However, the work goes 
 bravely on. 
 
 " Your affectionate uncle, 
 
 "VICTOR." 
 
 Then, having sealed these letters and sent them to be 
 mailed, he dressed himself with his usual care and strolled 
 down to the Lucullus Club-house. 
 
CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 " EVERYTHING S GOING ON WELL." 
 
 ME. OLDMIXON S dinner was for Friday, and it was 
 on Tuesday of the same week that he sent out his in 
 vitations. On the following morning Wednesday- 
 Barbara went to town as usual, having received Mr. 
 Oldmixon s letter the previous evening, but concluding 
 that she would not answer it till she had seen Jack. On 
 the day following Mr. Oldmixon s visit to her he had, as 
 was his habit now, met her at the station, and had walked 
 with her to Mr. Maurice s studio. These morning 
 walks in the fresh, bracing December air were the chief 
 pleasures that the two young people had, except those 
 offered by Jack s Saturday-evening visits to Lasata and 
 his stay through Sunday till Monday morning. During 
 this walk she had informed him of all that had taken 
 place between her and Mr. Oldmixon, and of the dis 
 covery she had made that she was the woman for whom 
 his uncle designed him and who was to receive his estate, 
 should Jack neglect or refuse to marry her. Of course 
 this information pleased the young man exceedingly, 
 and he was not inclined to regard the matter in the light 
 of a liberty, almost amounting to an insult, as had Barbara. 
 It took from his mind all the regret that he had experi 
 enced at not being able to oblige his uncle, and he was, 
 besides, enough of a man of the world to know the 
 advantages that Mr. Oldmixon s estate would be to 
 
MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 himself and liis wife. Then, after settling that point 
 eventually to their satisfaction, Barbara had asked his 
 advice in regard to her going to see Miss Bangs and put 
 ting her on her guard against the devices of Hogarth 
 She had thought of the subject a good deal since Mr 
 Idmixon s departure, and the more she had considered 
 the matter the more she was disposed to enlighten her 
 taxidermist rival and the robber of her reputation rela 
 tive to the scheme of which it seemed as though she was 
 about to be the subject. 
 
 Jack, however, after as long and mature thought as 
 was possible while walking down Fifth Avenue, with 
 Barbara by his side, had expressed his decided opinion 
 that interference now would be premature. 
 
 ; < It isn t likely," he said, " that Hogarth, under any 
 circumstances, will marry Miss Bangs at once. In fact, 
 I do not see how he could, even if he wanted to. He has 
 probably never seen her in his life, and though it is 
 ikely that as soon as she makes his acquaintance and 
 finds out who he is she will agree to marry him, several 
 days must elapse before the arrangements can be effected 
 Now, you see, my dear Bab," he continued, assuming 
 his most argumentative manner, " the only reason why 
 Hogarth wishes to marry Miss Bangs, if he really has 
 such a desire and of that you must admit that we have 
 no positive evidence-is that he supposes her to be the 
 heiress of my uncle s property. Of course, from his stand- 
 point such a marriage would have to be kept secret till 
 my uncle s death, for certainly if Miss Bangs were the 
 heiress, as we will say Hogarth supposes her to be, the 
 will would certainly be changed by my uncle as soon as he 
 became aware of the marriage. Hogarth is too shrewd 
 a fellow not to look out for all possible contingencies. 
 
" EVERYTHING S GOING ON WELL." 401 
 
 Now, it strikes me that the one absolutely sure way to 
 prevent the marriage would be to inform Hogarth that 
 Miss Bangs is not the heiress, that my uncle has no inten 
 tion of making her such, or of in any way altering the 
 will already made. He would believe this if the informa 
 tion came from me, and I will tell him at once. Then, 
 don t you see, Miss Bangs would not be brought into the 
 matter at all, unless Hogarth should want to marry her 
 out of love, which it is very unlikely he will care to do." 
 
 " I think you are right," said Barbara, after she had 
 thought for a little while of what Jack had said ; " but 
 lose no time ; events seem to me to be coming to a focus, 
 and there is really every reason why you should act 
 speedily. 
 
 "When he met her the next morning they had both 
 received their invitations to dine with Mr. Oldmixon 
 on the following Friday. Jack had already accepted his, 
 but Barbara had, as we know, determined to advise with 
 her lover on the subject before deciding to partake of 
 Mr. Oldmixon s hospitality. Jack was of the opinion 
 that she ought to go. It would please his uncle, and 
 it would please him. What more could she want ? 
 
 " I ll meet you and your father at the station and 
 take you over to Uncle Victor s house, and then when 
 the dinner is over I ll take you back. Besides, we shall 
 of course sit together at the table." 
 
 i It will all be very nice, but I do not like the idea of 
 meeting your brother ; in fact, I am afraid of him." 
 
 "I don t like the idea either," rejoined Jack, " but 
 Uncle Victor is evidently in a forgiving mood, brought 
 about, doubtless, by your letter, and I don t think it 
 would be advisable for me to say or do anything that 
 might prompt him to change his .present disposition. He 
 
402 MR. OLDMIXOK. 
 
 has appealed to me to make friends with Hogarth, and 1 
 have decided to do so. My brother has heretofore been 
 my worst enemy, but I suppose that that is no reason 
 why I should not be ready to meet him half-way in a 
 reconciliation." 
 
 " That is right," exclaimed Barbara, with emphasis. 
 i ( I am glad that my letter has apparently not been with 
 out influence. Then we will all go, and may the dinner 
 be the means of restoring peace among us ! 
 
 " And, Jack," resumed Barbara, with an arch smile, 
 after they had walked a little farther, " don t you think 
 that, as your uncle is going to tell us his story, you might 
 inform us how you caught the silver fox ? You know 
 we are still in ignorance of the process of capture. 
 
 "By George ! I forgot all about the silver fox. Of 
 course, I ll tell you. You see, Bab, we ve always had so 
 many things to talk about and so little time at our dis 
 posal, that it has always escaped my memory. It s a 
 wonderful story, and will make each individual hair of 
 your head stand on end." 
 
 " Then I shall look like a comet, or a blazing star, or 
 some other fiery contrivance." 
 
 By this time they had reached the door of the apart 
 ment house in which Mr. Maurice had his studio. It 
 was not often that Jack went any farther, for he thought 
 it only right that Barbara should be allowed all the time 
 and opportunity to advance in her new profession, with 
 out let or hindrance from him. But to-day she was so 
 anxious to show him her work on a head of her father 
 that she was modelling, and he was so anxious to see it, 
 that it did not take much persuasion to induce him to go 
 up with her. 
 
 Mr. Maurice had several young lady pupils whose in- 
 
" EVERYTHING S GOING ON WELL." 403 
 
 struction was generally left to Mrs. Maurice, until, at least, 
 they had acquired the rudiments of the art, and had shown 
 some degree of talent for the work before them. It very 
 often happened that a pupil never got farther than the 
 instruction that the lady was able to give her ; for if she 
 showed an incapacity for advancing, Mr. Maurice very 
 frankly, but very kindly told her of the fact, and advised 
 her to take to some profession for which she might be 
 better adapted than she was for sculpture. Barbara, 
 however, had almost immediately passed from Mrs. 
 Maurice s ministrations to those of her husband. She 
 had from the very first shown a genius for her chosen 
 art, that had at once surprised and delighted him, and he 
 had, in consequence, taken that loving interest in her ad 
 vancement that was in itself an incentive to her, only 
 second in power to her own inherent love for the work 
 to which she had resolved to devote herself. 
 
 For several days past her father had either accompa 
 nied her to the city, or had come to the studio in order to 
 give her the sittings she required in modelling a bust of 
 him. She had taken the utmost interest in this produc 
 tion, and it promised to be in every way worthy of her 
 genius. Mr. Henschel s head was one that an artist could 
 not fail to notice and to admire. It was not unlike, in 
 general characteristics, that of some mediseval saint, with 
 its long white beard, and its face expressive both of that 
 sternness and gentleness that the holy worthies of the 
 middle ages are represented by the painters of the time 
 to have possessed, and which those of the present day 
 deem it essential to give them. 
 
 Jack did not stay long at the studio. He admired the 
 head, which was already well advanced toward comple 
 tion talked a little with Mr. and Mrs. Maurice and heard 
 
404 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 with pleasure their encomiums of Barbara, and then went 
 to the Lucullus Club to meet his uncle, with whom he 
 had an appointment. 
 
 As he walked down the street, Jack wondered what 
 was the particular matter about which his uncle wished 
 to see him. In his letter of acceptance he had very mag 
 nanimously expressed his approval of the plan of recon 
 ciliation, but he was, of course, anxious to know some 
 thing more definite in regard to what was expected of 
 him, and he hoped to be able to get some information on 
 the subject that morning. But he felt now that it was 
 not to talk about that that his uncle had requested this 
 interview, but doubtless for some purpose of his own 
 that interested him greatly, and in which he desired his 
 nephew s co-operation. On that point he did not feel 
 much doubt. 
 
 In talking the matter over with Barbara, they had both 
 alluded to the fact that, while Mr. Oldmixon had pointed 
 out to Jack the duty that was upon him, of forgiving his 
 brother, he had markedly refrained from saying anything 
 about what he himself contemplated doing. In his 
 letter to Barbara he had avoided the subject altogether. 
 This struck them both as being suspicious of the fact that 
 he was not so forgiving as he apparently desired others to 
 be. Jack had seen enough of his uncle to be aware of 
 the fact that he could be intensely secretive when he 
 chose to be so, and that he was at all times utterly un 
 scrupulous as to the means lie took to accomplish his 
 objects. lie seemed to have no conscience whatever in 
 the matter of deceiving those whom he assumed to love 
 and respect, and for whom he probably did have a high 
 regard ; nor to be actuated by any other principle than 
 an intensely morbid impulse to accomplish his ends 
 
" EVERYTHING S GOING ON WELL." 405 
 
 without reference to the morality of the means em 
 ployed. 
 
 As to whether Mr. Oldmixon was correct in his belief 
 that Hogarth had murdered his wife by smothering her 
 with a pillow, Jack was more in doubt than he had been. 
 The fact that his uncle had, many years ago, been at 
 Annapolis, as he had admitted to Barbara, and had prob 
 ably occupied the very rooms he had so minutely described, 
 had somewhat weakened the conviction of his brother s 
 guilt that he had, after the visit to that city, been forced 
 to form. Still, he was by no means satisfied of Hogarth s 
 innocence. There was a degree of positiveness about his 
 uncle s assertions that impressed him .very strongly, and 
 he could scarcely go so far as to ascribe the correctness 
 of his topography of the rooms in the hotel at Annapolis 
 to recollections revived after having been dormant for 
 over thirty years, and when the fact of the visit had 
 altogether faded from the memory. 
 
 But, whether his brother were guilty or not, Jack was 
 perfectly clear as to the impropriety of his uncle s tak 
 ing the part of a detective or that of a questioner in a 
 torture process. In this he had not changed since Mr. 
 Oldmixon had first revealed his intentions, and he was 
 delighted to find that Barbara was equally emphatic as he 
 was himself in her denunciations of his uncle s proced 
 ure. There was a bare hope that the old gentleman had 
 renounced his intentions, and that the dinner would wit 
 ness the restoration of peace all around, to the extent 
 that peace was possible in a family in which there were 
 so many disturbing factors as there were in his. So far 
 as he was concerned he was prepared to get on good 
 terms with Hogarth, but as to being friendly with him, 
 as one brother should be with another, Jack felt that 
 
406 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 that would be impossible. He had no respect for Ho 
 garth ; he knew that he was, in every relation of life, a bad 
 man one that had, in fact, scarcely a redeeming quality, 
 if, indeed, he was not wholly and incorrigibly depraved. 
 To be on relations of intimacy and confidence with such a 
 man was out of the question. But Jack intended to 
 again insist upon Hogarth being made co-heir with him 
 self to his uncle s estate, or failing in attaining his wish, 
 to make over by deed of gift one exact half of the prop 
 erty so soon as it should come into his possession. It 
 would seem as though a man or a woman cannot be so 
 utterly wicked and degraded but that there are some 
 good people constantly on the watch to protect their in 
 terests. 
 
 When he arrived at the Lucullus Club House he found 
 that his uncle was already there and was expecting him 
 in the reception-room. 
 
 "I ve only just come, my boy, so that you haven t 
 kept me waiting a moment, said Mr. Oldmixon, as he 
 shook his nephew heartily by the hand. " It s an infer 
 nal outrage that 1 can t ask you any farther into the 
 Club House than this reception-room, unless I invite you 
 to dinner, and it s too early for that. Here we re liable 
 to be interrupted any moment. By George ! I ll start a 
 club in which members shall have the privilege of asking 
 their friends into a private room when they want to have 
 conversation that they don t want all the town to hear." 
 
 " That wouldn t be a bad idea, Uncle Victor," said 
 Jack, laughing. " Still, it s so early in the morning that 
 we re not likely to be disturbed." 
 
 " Well, my dear boy, sit down. If any fellow comes 
 in we ll jump into my carriage. I told Dan to be here 
 by eleven o clock." He dropped into a large arm-chair, 
 
" EVERYTHING S GOING ON WELL." 407 
 
 in which he was nearly wholly concealed, and Jack took 
 one equally comfortable near him. 
 
 " Everything s going on well," resumed Mr. Oldmix- 
 on, as he handed Jack his cigar-case and took a "weed" 
 for himself. " I ve almost brought that scoundrel Hogarth 
 to a confession. Every time I mention smothering to 
 him he goes off into some kind of a fit epileptic, I sup 
 pose and doesn t get over it for several hours. I wish 
 you could have seen the effect yesterday when I invited 
 him to go with me to see Salvini play Othello and smother 
 Desdemona. I was afraid at first that he was going to 
 die without making a confession in so many words, but for 
 tunately he came to himself again. Jack, my boy, I d 
 give ten thousand dollars if I could get him to go and see 
 Salvini in Othello ! He ll never do it. It would be the 
 last of him, and I believe he would end with a full con 
 fession." 
 
 "Oh, uncle ! can t you make up your mind to cease 
 your warfare on Hogarth ? What is to be gained by it 
 beyond the horrid satisfaction you may obtain of having 
 you r suspicions confirmed ? Surely, for that poor re ward, 
 you are not going to make Barbara and me, and event 
 ually yourself, unhappy !" 
 
 Barbara ! Oh, Jack, my dear boy, to think that you 
 and I should have been two such fools as almost to quar 
 rel about a matter upon which we were both agreed ! I 
 was just going to tell you how much pleasure the discov 
 ery I made gave me, when you introduced this Hogarth 
 affair. Jack," continued Mr. Oldmixon, in a subdued 
 voice, "get married as soon as you can. Perhaps if 
 Hogarth should be hanged for his crime she might feel 
 inclined to back out. Take her at once, my boy, before 
 he makes confession. Don t you think you could get 
 
408 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 her to go with you this morning to a parson and have the 
 knot tied ? I asked you to meet me here for the purpose 
 of putting this matter before you. My dear boy, hurry 
 matters up at once, or I am afraid she ll slip through your 
 fingers after all." 
 
 Jack was astounded. He looked at his uncle, unable 
 for a while to speak a word. Then he said, very slowly 
 and very sedately : 
 
 " I think you do not know Barbara. If Hogarth ana 
 you were both to be hanged, she would not give me up. 
 I would not dare to insult her by proposing such a scheme 
 as the one you suggest. She is as gentle, as refined, as 
 truthful as as I can t find anything to compare her 
 with," he added, as his ideas of lovely beings failed 
 
 him. 
 
 Mr. Oldmixon rose and shut the door. 
 
 Jack, my boy," he said, as he laid a hand on Jack s 
 shoulder, while his emotion almost choked his utterance, 
 don t, for God s sake, look at the matter in that way I 
 1 adore her as much as you do, and would be the last man 
 to say a word or advise an act that could properly be 
 construed into one of disrespect. But, my God, Jack, 
 I am afraid ! Think of the disgrace of having a brother- 
 in-law hanged ! Would you marry her if her father was 
 a convict or was about to be tried for his life ? 
 
 "Yes," exclaimed Jack, interrupting him. 
 marry her if every relation she ever had in the world had 
 
 been hanged." 
 
 "But she s so good herself, Jack, so pure, that Ii 
 afraid that when she hears the whole truth about Ho- 
 0-arth and he has been hanged in the jail-yard at An- 
 napolis, she ll fell wronged and disgraced, and will pine 
 away and die of her grief." 
 
"EVERYTHING S GOING ON WELL." 409 
 
 " 1 tell you you don t know her," cried Jack, excited 
 ly. " I ve talked the whole matter over with her, and 
 she s as true as steel. I ll never insult her by proposing 
 a marriage that would disgrace an immigrant just landed 
 from the steerage. Please God, she shall marry me in 
 her father s house, in decency and in order, or not at all !" 
 
 " My poor boy, you don t know women as I know 
 them. No matter how good they may be, they have 
 their peculiarities, and the better they are the more dis 
 tinctively peculiar they are. Barbara comes of an hon 
 orable stock, humble though it may be, and she and her 
 father are as proud as Lucifer, and whatever she may 
 say now you may depend upon it that when your brother 
 stands, as he will, under the shadow of the gallows, she ll 
 give you up, if it kills her to do so. No, no !" seeing that 
 Jack was about to expostulate, " hear me out to the end 
 before you say another word. See here !" taking as he 
 spoke a bundle of papers from the breast-pocket of his 
 coat. " I shall not live more than a month or two long 
 er, at most ; I feel certain symptoms about my heart 
 that warn me of my approaching end. By my will all 
 my estate goes to you or Barbara it makes no differ 
 ence now which of you gets it but, lest you should be 
 apprehensive that 1 might play you a trick, I have here 
 deeds and bonds and certificates of stock amounting to 
 six hundred thousand dollars that I am going to make 
 over to you now, by deed of gift. The papers are all in 
 order, I executed the deed this morning before a notary, 
 and all you have to do is to marry Barbara to-day, or to 
 morrow at farthest, and the whole of it is yours. I have 
 kept back about two hundred thousand dollars, enough 
 to yield me all the income I shall want while I live, and 
 which will also go to you when I die." 
 18 
 
410 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 Jack rose from his chair long before Mr. Oldmixon 
 finished speaking, and was pacing the floor in a state of 
 extreme agitation. His uncle s pertinacity and evident 
 sincerity troubled him greatly, though the magnificent 
 offer made to him did not at all shake him in the de 
 termination he had already expressed. It was only an 
 other evidence to his mind of the unchanged resolution 
 of his uncle to bring Hogarth to confession and disgrace, 
 if it were in his power to do so, and he shuddered as he 
 thought of the indignity that the whole matter was like 
 ly to fix upon the Oldmixon family and all connected 
 with him. He felt assured that his uncle was entirely 
 certain of Hogarth s guilt, and that he meant to expose 
 him at the earliest possible moment, probably at the din 
 ner to which he and Barbara had been invited, and which 
 he now determined that neither he nor Barbara would 
 attend unless assurances were given that no such act was 
 in contemplation. 
 
 "I cannot accept your offer, Uncle Yictor," he said, 
 at last. " I am sensible of the existence of a sincere de 
 sire on your part to secure Barbara for me as a wife. 
 You need be under no apprehension in regard to the 
 matter, for she will as certainly marry me as that the sun 
 shines in the heavens. I have no fear, but if you feel 
 that there is the slightest uncertainty on the subject, 
 you have it in your power to banish it by simply resolv 
 ing to let Hogarth rest in piece, to be punished by his 
 own conscience and as God may otherwise direct." 
 
 " My dear boy !" exclaimed Mr. Oldmixon, in a hoarse 
 voice, " I can t do that. It is impossible. I have tried 
 to bring my mind to such a conclusion, but it is out of 
 the question. I can t do it." He looked helplessly 
 about him as he spoke these last words, his gaze resting 
 
" EVERYTHING S GOING ON WELL." 411 
 
 at last on Jack as though he was appealing to him to 
 give him the strength he required. 
 
 " Then, Uncle Victor," said Jack, who notwithstand 
 ing that he pitied his uncle, was convinced, from former 
 experience, that the exhibition of compassion was not at 
 all calculated to make him yield, " there is but one thing 
 for Barbara and Mr. Henschel and me to do, and that is 
 to stay away from your dinner. It would be very dis 
 tressing to all of us to be present at such a scene as you 
 possibly have it in your power to get up. It would be 
 peculiarly unbecoming in you to develop your opin 
 ions in Barbara s presence. She is about to become a 
 member of the family, and, though I think it right that 
 she should know and she does know that there are 
 skeletons in our closets, 1 think it exceedingly scandalous 
 to drag them out and exhibit them to her in all their 
 disgraceful proportions, and at a dinner, too, where very 
 different means of entertainment should be provided by 
 the host for his guests than that of exposing a supposed 
 murderer, and he his own nephew." 
 
 " Well, Mr. Jack Oldmixon," exclaimed the old gen 
 tleman, who, while Jack was speaking, had recovered his 
 equanimity, "if you think you have quite concluded 
 your discourse, perhaps you will allow me the opportu 
 nity of saying a word. Who said anything about expos 
 ing the villain, the basilisk, at my dinner-table ? Do 
 you take me for such a vulgar wretch as to interfere with 
 the appetites of my guests by harassing their minds with 
 ideas of that scoundrel s crimes ? Do you suppose that 
 I could run the risk of having my loudins de perdreaux 
 ct la Richelieu or my pain de gibier au supreme, upon 
 which so much care will be exercised, unappreciated, 
 perhaps even to be handed round without being tasted ? 
 
412 MR. OLDMIXOtf. 
 
 No, you do not know me if you suppose for a moment 
 that I would commit an outrage of the kind, and I feel 
 hurt, yes, angry, that you should think me such a savage 
 as your suspicions imply." And Mr. Oldmixon s eyes 
 filled with tears so rapidly that repeated applications of 
 his handkerchief were necessary for their absorption. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Uncle Victor," said Jack, hum 
 bly, " I did not intend " 
 
 " Ko, no ! of course you did not intend, " rejoined 
 Mr. Oldrnixon, in a tone of voice that was intended to 
 convey the idea that the feelings of the speaker were in 
 jured to a degree that would not readily be lessened. 
 It is always the unintentional word that cuts the 
 deepest. You shall all eat your dinners in peace, and 
 with that amount of enjoyment that the goodness of the 
 feast and the excellence of the company will warrant. 
 After dinner I had proposed to read a few pages from 
 my novel, hoping that they would interest those that I 
 had brought together ; but if this plan is disagreeable to 
 you it can easily be changed, and we can have a recita 
 tion from you, or a chapter from the Bible, if it suits you 
 better, read by that eminent biblical expositor and exem 
 plar, Mr. Hogarth Oldmixon." 
 
 " Again, I humbly beg your pardon," reiterated Jack, 
 < and express my regret at my error. Of course we will 
 have the novel ; I am anxious to hear a specimen of it 
 read and by such a good reader as you are ; and Barbara, 
 likewise, is greatly interested." 
 
 " Then you want to hear a chapter or so from my 
 novel, and you are quite sure Barbara would also be 
 pleased with the reading?" said Mr. Oldmixon, much 
 mollified by Jack s soothing speech. " My dear boy, you 
 shall both be gratified ! I shall select the most interest- 
 
" EVEBYTHDTG S GOING ON WELL." 413 
 
 ing chapter of the book, one that I am sure will keep 
 your attention riveted ; for its dramatic intensity is so 
 pronounced that the minds of those persons hearing it 
 read will be so engrossed that thoughts other than those 
 excited by my ideas will be impossible." 
 
 Jack made a satisfactory rejoinder to this burst of self- 
 adulatory enthusiasm, and soon afterward took his depar 
 ture. Mr. Oldmixon returned his deeds and valuable 
 papers to his pocket, apparently feeling little or 110 re 
 gret at his failure to induce Jack to receive them as a 
 bribe for hastening his marriage with Barbara. Then 
 he took two or three strides across the floor, as though to 
 get rid of some surplus energy before going out into the 
 public rooms of the club house, and finally, with a look of 
 self-satisfaction, not altogether free from that species of 
 facial expression that is designated Mephistophelian, or 
 diabolical, or Satanic, or by some other adjective expres 
 sive of the personality of the Prince of Darkness, he put 
 on his hat, buttoned up his coat, and, passing through the 
 hall to the street, ordered his coachman to drive him to 
 the National Academy, where there was an exhibition of 
 pictures among which was the one Jack had painted for 
 Mr. Van der Linden, and which he had not yet seen. 
 
CHAPTEE XXYIII. 
 
 HOGARTH IS SATISFIED. 
 
 THE episode of Othello had a greater effect upon Ho 
 garth Oldmixon than any other that had been introduced 
 by his uncle, and it was not until late the following day 
 that he had entirely recovered from the mental and phys 
 ical disturbance consequent upon the paroxysm with 
 which he had been visited. He had now no doubt that 
 his secret was known to at least one person, and that 
 there was a systematic attempt being made to cause him 
 trouble. What the ultimate object of his persecutor 
 was he could not divine ; lie did not believe that it ex 
 tended to the point of delivering him up to justice to be 
 tried for his crime. He was not able to conceive of the 
 possibility of his own uncle, who, up to quite a recent 
 period, had been his friend and protector, acting the part 
 of a detective policeman and doing all in his power to 
 bring him to the gallows. He was quite sure that no 
 one saw him kill his wife, and that the persecution to 
 which he was subjected was altogether based upon con 
 jecture and suspicion. He was also very certain that his 
 own conduct, in the face of his uncle s tortures, had had 
 the effect of strengthening the belief of his guilt that 
 was entertained by his tormentor, and had consequently 
 served to encourage him to still more positive efforts to 
 make him say or do something that would place his crim 
 inality beyond a perad venture. Hitherto, however want- 
 
HOGAKTH IS SATISFIED. 415 
 
 ing in the confidence of innocence liis conduct might 
 have been under the taunts and innuendoes heaped upon 
 him, he had never positively committed himself by 
 words, or even let drop an expression that could, by the 
 most eager detective, have been construed into an 
 acknowledgment of guilt. He had been several times 
 on the point of confessing, and of throwing himself on 
 his uncle s mercy, but had up to the present time main 
 tained sufficient command of himself to keep silent. 
 The impulses he had experienced to reveal all were 
 born of the occasions, and were instinctively self-defen 
 sive, unprompted as they were by deliberate thought ; but 
 as he lay in bed on the morning of the day of his uncle s 
 dinner and looked up at the ceiling in a meditative sort 
 of a way, he was not quite sure that it would not be 
 well to seek out his persecutor as soon as possible and 
 make a clean breast of it. This was the only alternative 
 that then presented itself to that of murdering his uncle 
 and marrying Miss Bangs, whom he was certain was the 
 woman to whom the estate had been devised, in the 
 event of Jack failing to marry her. 
 
 The question was certainly a momentous one : confes 
 sion of one murder or the perpetration of another ; and 
 Hogarth thought it over as thoroughly as the state of his 
 brain permitted. His head still ached, he had passed a 
 restless night, and his mind was by no means clear that 
 morning, so that he was not able to bring to bear the 
 full force of an intellect that, in a state of health, gener 
 ally served him well. But he did his best in the effort 
 to arrive at a decision that should be final. He felt con 
 fident that matters were approaching a crisis, and he had 
 some apprehension that with the evidences of criminality 
 that his uncle had already obtained he might at any 
 
416 
 
 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 moment denounce him. He did not, it is true, think 
 that there was much danger of such a course being 
 pursued ; but Mr. Oldmixon was a singular being who 
 could never be depended upon for doing what others 
 thought he ought to do, and, besides, Hogarth did not 
 know the extent of his information. He must have 
 something positive, he thought, or why should he have 
 begun such a systematic and well-formed an attack ? He 
 could not have been more explicit in his assaults if he 
 had seen the murder committed, for at one time or an 
 other he had insinuated every feature of the deed as it 
 had actually occurred. The thought of all this was very 
 terrible to Hogarth. lie perceived that his uncle was 
 merciless, and that his words and acts that had the ap 
 pearance of kindness were intensely hypocritical and a 
 part of his general plan of deception. He now saw why 
 lie had been invited to the house, and he thoroughly 
 comprehended the fraud of the new will, the rough 
 draft of which was still in his coat pocket undelivered 
 to Mr. Eidley, but which he would take down to him 
 to-day. 
 
 Perhaps it would be better to defer deciding the mat 
 ter till he had seen Mr. Eidley, and observed that gentle 
 man in the presence of the draft of the new will that he 
 had been authorized to deliver to him. That would only 
 be postponing the further consideration for a few hours, 
 and then he would probably be in a better position for 
 arriving at a conclusion than he was now. Mr. Eidley 
 was a very different person from his uncle, and would 
 not lie or knowingly be a party to a fraud. One thing 
 was certain, he could not much longer endure the daily 
 tortures that his uncle was inflicting on him. He felt 
 that his mind was giving way ; for, though he had not 
 
HOGARTH IS SATISFIED. 417 
 
 since his decision of a few days ago seen the face that 
 had haunted him, he had had other mental troubles of 
 fully as serious a character. He had been disposed to at 
 tribute the disappearance of the face to the fact that his 
 mind had lost its uncertainty when he had resolved that 
 his uncle should be smothered, but he had since then 
 been fully as perplexed as ever before in regard to the 
 course to be pursued, and yet the face had not returned. 
 As he lay in bed he speculated in regard to the appear 
 ance and disappearance of the hallucination that had so 
 disturbed him, and though he could give no satisfactory 
 explanation of the phenomenon, he fully recognized the 
 fact of its unreality. " I suppose," he said to himself, 
 " that I had been thinking so much about the matter 
 and had got into such a worried condition of mind that 
 my brain wouldn t work right. Well, 1 don t believe it 
 would trouble me much now if it were to come back ; 
 there is such a thing," he added, with a little laugh, " as 
 getting used to being haunted." 
 
 Mr. Oldmixon, of course, had told him of the dinner 
 that was to take place that evening, and had also informed 
 him who were to be the guests. 
 
 " You know, my dear boy, he had said, " that I am a 
 very old man and shall not probably stay much longer 
 with you all. I have become reconciled to Jack, and I 
 wish you to do so likewise. Surely you can afford to be 
 magnanimous to your brother, seeing that you will suc 
 ceed to the whole of my estate." 
 
 Hogarth had with as good a grace as was possible ex 
 pressed his willingness to resume relations with Jack, 
 but had added that he was feeling so badly after his re 
 cent attack that he begged to be excused from being 
 present. He would meet Jack, he said, the following 
 18* 
 
418 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 day, and then they could exchange regrets and become 
 friends again. 
 
 " No, no," replied Mr. Oldmixon, "that will not do 
 at all ; I never saw you looking better than you do now. 
 I not only want you to see Jack, but I am especially 
 desirous to have you meet the lady he is going to 
 marry." 
 
 " Jack is going to be married !" 
 
 " Yes, he chose to select his wife without reference to 
 my wishes, but that is no reason why the family should 
 not treat her kindly, especially as I believe she is quite a 
 good sort of a girl in her way. She s a sculptor, I be 
 lieve, a pupil of Maurice s. Jack seems to be infatuated 
 with her, and though well, well," he added, as though 
 interrupting himself in what he was about to say, " it isn t 
 necessary now to go into all that, since such a great 
 change has recently taken place in our family affairs." 
 
 " What change do you mean ?" 
 
 " Why, your coming back to me, of course. You 
 have always, except for a few days, been my favorite 
 nephew. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! I m much obliged." 
 
 " Don t forget that draft of the will ; Eidley is wait 
 ing for it." 
 
 So the conversation had ended, and Hogarth, as he lay 
 in bed, recalled all the details of it. He did not wish to 
 go to the dinner, or to resume relations with Jack, or to 
 make the acquaintance of Miss Henschel, but he saw no 
 way of avoidance, unless upon the plea of illness, and he 
 did not believe that that excuse would be accepted, unless 
 he was obviously too ill to be present. No, there was 
 110 escape for him. 
 
 He did not expect any trouble from his uncle during 
 
HOGAETH IS SATISFIED. 419 
 
 the dinner. He was sure that, no matter how determined 
 the old gentleman might be in the matter of making 
 him feel uncomfortable, he had not yet reached the 
 point of being willing to expose him to strangers. Evi 
 dently, whatever suspicions or facts he had he had thus 
 far kept in his own bosom. The time for making the 
 world acquainted with his hypothesis or knowledge might 
 come, but it had not yet arrived. 
 
 He turned over and looked at his watch that lay on 
 the table by the side of the bed. It was ten o clock, 
 so he got up, took his cold bath, as was his habit, and, 
 dressing himself at once for the street, went down to the 
 breakfast-room. As he expected, Mr. Oldmixon had not 
 yet left his bedroom. He ordered a cup of coffee and a 
 roll, and, having soon disposed of the light repast, left the 
 house and started to go down-town to Mr. Ridley s office. 
 The coffee made him feel better than he had felt before get 
 ting up, and the cold air of the December morning tended 
 still further to dissipate the sense of constriction and pain 
 that he had experienced in his head. He hesitated as to 
 whether he should take the elevated railway from Forty- 
 second Street or walk all the way down. Finally, con 
 sidering that he was not yet quite himself, and that a walk 
 of three or four miles would stir his blood and probably 
 carry off his bad feelings, he decided to use his legs in 
 stead of the agency provided by the Metropolitan Ele 
 vated Kailway Company. By the time he arrived at his 
 destination he felt something like his normal self, and 
 fully equal to a contest of sublety and sharp practice with 
 even so redoubtable an adversary as he knew Mr. Rid 
 ley to be. It was nearly twelve o clock when he knocked 
 at the door of the lawyer s anteroom, and, in compli 
 ance with an invitation to that effect given by the small 
 
420 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 boy that attended to the door, entered, and took a seat till 
 Mr. Ridley should be disengaged. 
 
 He sat at a desk in one corner of the room, while the 
 small boy was diligently occupied, in a diagonally opposite 
 corner, in reading some one of the story-telling weekly 
 newspapers published in the city of New York in which 
 pursuers of literature of his class take special delight. 
 Hogarth had nothing to read and no other way of occu 
 pying the time till Mr. Ridley had gotten rid of his 
 present visitor than by looking around him. He had 
 diligently pursued this occupation for several minutes, 
 and it was beginning to be monotonous, when, having 
 completed the survey of the more distant objects in the 
 room, he turned his attention to those nearer to him, and 
 first of all to the desk at which he was sitting. Appar 
 ently it was one at which Mr. Ridley sometimes sat, for 
 there were several letters addressed to him lying on it, 
 and a partly- written one which he had probably been en 
 gaged in indicting when interrupted by the visitor now 
 engaging his attention. 
 
 As the reader is already well aware, Hogarth Oldmixon 
 was altogether devoid of those conscientious scruples that 
 prevent a man, even though sorely tempted, doing an 
 unmanly action. The sentiment of honor, if it had ever 
 had a lodgment in his breast, had vacated the tenement 
 early in his career, and there had been no other feeling 
 of a like character to take its place. He was governed 
 altogether by the most complete and overpowering sel 
 fishness, and by no other emotion whatever. lie looked 
 closely at the papers lying on the desk, and at one end 
 observed a little pile of letters that had probably been 
 received by that morning s mail, as he noticed that several 
 of them were still unopened. He glanced furtively at 
 
HOGAETH IS SATISFIED. 421 
 
 the boy and perceived that his head and face were entirely 
 concealed by the literary production he was reading. 
 Then he moved his hand very quietly on the cloth-covered 
 surface of the desk till it rested on the pile of letters. 
 He had no distinct object in view in meddling with the 
 letters, but he did have a faint, shadowy sort of an idea 
 that by so doing he might effect something to his advan 
 tage, but what he could not for the life of him have told. 
 To separate the letters so as to see the direction on each 
 was an easy piece of work, and he did it without attracting 
 the notice of the guardian of the room. They were all 
 directed to " Theobald Ridley, Esq., Counsellor at Law," 
 and in handwritings that he did not recognize, till he 
 came to the very bottom one of all. Then he started, 
 for he saw that that bore a superscription that he knew 
 was written by his uncle. 
 
 There was, of course, a good deal of risk to be incurred 
 if he should determine to purloin that letter in order to 
 make himself acquainted with its contents, and yet he had 
 determined, on the very instant, that when he left that 
 desk the letter should be in his pocket. There was no 
 difficulty in stealing it. The boy was still intently en 
 gaged with his story paper, and all that Hogarth had to 
 do was to keep his eyes fixed on the absorbed youth 
 while his hand conveyed the coveted letter from the desk 
 to the breast-pocket of his coat. Then he got up, walked 
 several times across the floor, and finally asked the boy 
 whether he thought Mr. Kidley would soon be disengaged, 
 receiving an answer to the effect that he the boy did 
 not know. How should he ? 
 
 " Perhaps," said Hogarth, taking a visiting-card from 
 his pocketbook, " if you were to take this to him, he 
 might hurry a little." 
 
422 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 "He told me I wasn t to bring no cards to him," 
 answered the boy. 
 
 " Oh, he did ! Then I suppose the visitor will be with 
 him a long time." 
 
 " I don t know about that," rejoined the youth, evi 
 dently not pleased at being disturbed from his engrossing 
 occupation of reading of the adventures of a prairie scout 
 of blood-thirsty proclivities. i Sometimes they stay long, 
 and then again they don t." As the words were uttered, 
 the bell from the inner office rang, and the boy quickly 
 disappeared into the precincts of the apartment that 
 Hogarth was longing to enter. 
 
 He was back again in a moment, and, going to the desk 
 at which Hogarth had been sitting, picked up the package 
 of letters lying there, and again went into the room in 
 which were Mr. Ridley and his visitor. 
 
 But his absence was of short duration, for he reappeared 
 in a couple of minutes, and, with a look of anxiety on his 
 face, looked carefully through all the papers lying on the 
 desk. 
 
 " Mr. Ridley says he hasn t got all the letters that 
 came this morning," he remarked, as though speaking 
 to no one in particular. " I took him in eleven, and he 
 says there were twelve. I don t see any other, and he 
 says I ve got to find it, or clear out and never show my 
 face here again. I guess a boy can t find a letter when 
 there ain t no letter to find." 
 
 Hogarth began to feel that it was just possible that he 
 had committed an act that was calculated to precipitate 
 the impending catastrophe. He might, by a little skilful 
 manoeuvring, have restored the letter to its place, or have 
 let it drop on the floor, and then have pretended to find 
 it, but he was of the opinion that it was essential for him 
 
HOGARTH IS SATISFIED. 423 
 
 to know what his uncle was, at that time, writing about 
 to Mr. Ridley, and he knew, or at least thought he did, 
 that although he might be suspected of having taken the 
 letter, it would be impossible, unless he were searched, 
 to connect him with its disappearance. 
 
 But while the young man was overturning the papers 
 on the desk and working himself into a fever of appre 
 hension, Mr. Ridley, impatient doubtless at the delay, 
 came hastily out of his sanctum. 
 
 What s the reason " 
 
 But before he could get any further in his angry in 
 terrogatory, his eyes lighted on Hogarth, and a marked 
 change immediately ensued in his countenance and man 
 ner. For a moment he stood irresolute, and then, while 
 his face was flashed and he stammered a little in his 
 speech, he addressed himself to his visitor. 
 
 " I did not know that you were here, Mr. Oldmixon," 
 he said, " I am very busy with a client, but I ll see you 
 directly. A letter has been lost, but, fortunately, it s of 
 no great consequence now (with a decided accent on the 
 " now "). " I don t like to miss things out of my office, 
 for it gives rise to suspicions that may be unjust. No," 
 he continued, as he turned over every scrap of paper on 
 the desk, " it certainly is not here. Has anybody else 
 been in this room?" he went on, addressing the boy, 
 whose looks expressed his fears more strongly than any 
 words could have done. 
 
 " No, sir, nobody s been here but that gentleman," 
 indicating Hogarth by a nod of his head. " He was sit 
 ting at the desk just after he came in " 
 
 " Yes/ said Hogarth, speaking for the first time since 
 Mr. Ridley s appearance, " I was sitting at the desk, but 
 I took no notice of anything on it. I saw your boy there 
 
424 MR. OLDMIXOK. 
 
 come in and take something from it, but I don t even 
 know whether it was a bundle of letters or an inkstand." 
 
 " Of course not ! of course not ! How should you ? 
 "Well, it isn t, as I said before, a matter of much conse 
 quence so far as the letter is concerned. I ll see you in 
 a few minutes, Mr. Oldmixon ;" so saying, Mr. Ridley 
 returned to his inner room, and Hogarth felt that a load 
 was taken from his mind. 
 
 But if he had known who the client was that Mr. Rid 
 ley was giving so much of his time to, and the nature of 
 their conversation when the lawyer rejoined him, he 
 would not only not have felt relief, but he would have 
 experienced a decided aggravation of his uncomfortable 
 sensations, for the person was no other than his uncle, 
 and the ideas interchanged between the two gentlemen 
 were not such as would have been reassuring to the 
 nephew. 
 
 " It s all explained," said Mr. Ridley, in a low voice, 
 after carefully shutting the door behind him. " Who do 
 you think is outside ? 
 
 " Hogarth, of course," replied Mr. Oldmixon, prompt 
 ly, " and he has the letter in his pocket." 
 
 " Yes, I suppose he has. He was sitting at the desk, 
 it appears, and doubtless saw it, and, surmising that it con 
 cerned him, he has purloined it with a view to reading it 
 at his leisure." 
 
 " What is to be done ?" 
 
 l( 1 don t see that we can do anything. His getting 
 hold of the letter, while giving him no clear idea of your 
 plans, will make him understand that there is or was a plan 
 of some kind. You are quite sure as to the contents ?" 
 
 " Yes, I am certain that all I said was that 1 did not 
 want any policemen, and that I did want the band. 
 
HOGARTH IS SATISFIED. 425 
 
 c < Well, I should think he would he somewhat thrown 
 off his guard by that, and would conclude that you had 
 given the matter up, if, as you say, you have reason to 
 believe that he has his suspicions of you." 
 
 " It may have that effect. It is well that I got here 
 before him. He must have walked all the way down. 
 He s come about the will, but in regard to that you need 
 no further instructions. Now, I want to get away with 
 out being seen by him. 
 
 <c You can do so by going through that end door. It 
 opens on the hall near the elevator. As you close the 
 door behind you I will ring for him." 
 
 This was accomplished without any interference with 
 the arrangement, and Hogarth entered the room at the 
 ringing of the bell and took the seat that Mr. Kidley 
 pointed out to him, and that had, not a minute before, 
 been occupied by his uncle. 
 
 "I am sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr. Old- 
 mixon," said the lawyer, " but the matter was one of 
 importance. 1 suppose you have brought me the draft 
 of the new will that your uncle informs me he intends 
 making." 
 
 " Yes, he requested me to bring it to you several days 
 ago, but I have not been very well, and was, therefore, 
 unable to attend to it till to-day." 
 
 As Hogarth spoke he handed the memorandum to Mr. 
 Eidley, and the latter ran his eye over it rapidly. 
 
 "This is very short," he said, laying it on the table 
 before him and placing a paper weight on it, " and will 
 require but an hour or two for its engrossing. Did your 
 uncle say when he wanted to execute it ?" 
 
 " He told me that he would like to have it as soon as 
 possible." 
 
 " 1 can send it to him this afternoon, or, if you would 
 
426 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 like to be the medium for conveying to him the paper 
 that makes you his heir, I will have it ready for you by 
 two o clock if you will call here at that hour." 
 
 " That will suit me very well. It is not yet quite one. 
 I will amuse myself on the Battery till two, and then 
 stop here on my way up-town. My uncle has a family 
 dinner-party this evening, and perhaps he would like to 
 execute the will at that time." Then bidding Mr. Rid 
 ley good-morning, Hogarth went out by the same door 
 through which his uncle had departed. 
 
 ^ But instead of going to the Battery, as he had said was 
 his intention, he stood on the sidewalk, apparently un 
 decided what to do with himself. He had his uncle s 
 letter in his pocket, and he was desirous of seeing Miss 
 Bangs, and, if possible, of making the acquaintance of the 
 lady that might, he thought, in the course of events, be 
 his wife. It was important for him to know how much 
 she knew of Mr. Oldmixon s intentions, and, if she knew 
 anything of them, what she purposed doing in regard 
 thereto. It was not very far to Lake Street, so he con 
 cluded that he would go there in a cab, and read his un 
 cle s letter on the way. He did not recollect the num 
 ber of the house in which the girl lived, but he told the 
 driver to take him to "a bird-stuffer s, named Bangs, in 
 Lake Street," not doubting that, as the street was a short 
 one, the man would find the place. No sooner was he 
 inside the vehicle than he drew down the blinds, and, tak 
 ing the stolen letter from his pocket, tore open the en 
 velope without hesitation and read as follows : 
 
 " DEAR RIDLEY : I write in haste to countermand the 
 order for policemen, but I shall want the band. 
 " Yours truly, 
 
 " VICTOR CONSTANTINE OLDMIXON." 
 
HOGAKTH IS SATISFIED. 427 
 
 And this was all. 
 
 But what did it mean ? lie read it and reread it with 
 out being able to form a satisfactory idea of the purport 
 of this note of less than three lines. Did it refer to him 
 at all ? And if it did, in what manner ? Evidently, 
 policemen had been ordered for some purpose, and they 
 were not now required. Had his uncle contemplated 
 causing his arrest, and had he subsequently abandoned 
 the idea ? If it related to him at all, this was probably 
 what it meant, and so far it was satisfactory. Perhaps 
 his uncle had failed to get the evidence that he had 
 thought he should be able to obtain, and had abandoned 
 his warfare against him. This also struck him as being 
 plausible, and was, therefore, a still more satisfactory con 
 clusion than the other. These two deductions seemed to 
 him to dispose of the first clause of the letter. Before 
 going on with the rest of it he suddenly opened the cab- 
 door and called to the driver : 
 
 "Never mind going to Lake Street," he said. " Go 
 to the Fifth Avenue Hotel. 
 
 i I shall not have to think of Miss Bangs if he signs 
 the new will," he said, as he threw himself back in the 
 vehicle. " It will be time enough to take her up after 
 to-night. I think I m pretty safe for to-night. If he 
 makes fresh war on me, I ll accept the other alternative 
 before to-morrow morning. Now, let us see what the 
 rest of this means : 
 
 " < But I shall want the band, " he read. "What 
 kind of a * band will he want ? By George ! if he were 
 twenty-five instead of seventy-five I should think he was 
 going to serenade a lady. Perhaps he is, after all, bent 
 on some such expedition, or he may intend to have music 
 for his dinner this evening. A band for policemen, 
 
428 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 however, is a good exchange. I don t see that this con 
 cerns me at all, so I think I can safely let it go without 
 bothering myself about it. " 
 
 When he drove up to the Fifth Avenue Hotel, he went 
 into the bar-room and drank a " brandy and soda." 
 Then he returned to Mr. Ridley s office. The clock on 
 Trinity Church was just striking two as he entered the 
 elevator. He did not see Mr. Eidley, that gentleman 
 having gone out, so the boy said, to get his lunch. But 
 a large envelope unclosed was handed to him, and this, 
 as he ascertained, contained the will drawn up in due form, 
 and with the attesting clause expressed in the terms re 
 quired by the laws of the State of New York. 
 
 The morning had been a satisfactory one to him, all 
 things considered. He had obtained some valuable in 
 formation, he had had no unpleasant experience with Mr. 
 Ridley, and the new will, ready to be executed, was in 
 his pocket. He took it out of the envelope as he drove 
 up-town, the blinds of the cab still down, and read it 
 over very carefully from beginning to end. It was in. 
 exact accordance with the memorandum given him by 
 his uncle, and which he had delivered to Mr. Ridley 
 and, as he observed with pleasure, the date was filled in 
 and it was that very day. Clearly, the will was intended 
 to be executed before twelve o clock that night. If his 
 surmises should be fulfilled and he be made his uncle s 
 heir, the old man should be a corpse before sunrise to 
 morrow. 
 
CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 HOGARTH MAKES SEVERAL DISCOVERIES. 
 
 AT five minutes before six Mr. Oldmixon was pacing 
 the floor of his drawing-room, dressed for dinner, and 
 waiting to receive his guests. He appeared to be in a 
 particularly pleasant frame of mind, for he smiled often, 
 and rubbed his hands together, as was his habit when feel 
 ing pleasantly inclined, and looked at himself admiringly 
 as he passed and repassed before the large mirror that 
 was placed over the mantel-piece. At three minutes 
 before six he went into the dining-room and surveyed 
 with a critical eye the preparations that had been made 
 for the dinner, and, if one could judge from the smile on 
 his face, the arrangement of the table was satisfactory to 
 him. He had, as was his custom, given great attention to 
 the setting of the table, and to all those aesthetic acces- 
 
 O 
 
 sories that add so much to the enjoyment of a dinner. 
 He was to occupy the head of the table, Hogarth the 
 foot, immediately opposite to him, Barbara was to be on 
 his right, her father on his left, and Jack on Barbara s 
 right. There was a wide space between Mr. Henschel 
 and himself, and Mr. Henschel and Hogarth, but this he 
 could not avoid without inviting another guest, and, as 
 this was a family dinner, he did not care to introduce a 
 stranger. He had thought of asking Mr. Brooks, but, 
 after a full consideration of the subject, he had deter- 
 
430 
 
 MR. OLDMIXON". 
 
 mined to confine the party to himself and the four per 
 sons that he had originally invited. 
 
 Mr. Oldmixon s domestic service was not extensive, so 
 he had for this occasion hired two men to officiate in con 
 junction with Thomas in the dining-room. They ap 
 peared to understand their business well, but they had 
 probably been more or less tutored by Thomas, who was 
 an experienced butler, understanding just how wines 
 were to be served, and all the other details connected with 
 an elaborate dinner. As regarded table furniture, there 
 were few in New York that could equal Mr. Oldmixon 
 in the elegance and elaborateness of such equipments, 
 his glass, china, silver, cutlery, linen, being costly and 
 beautiful two qualities which, in such things, do not 
 always go together. 
 
 There was to be only one lady at the table, and at her 
 plate was laid a beautiful corsage bouquet of Jacque 
 minot roses, and a little morocco case containing a gold 
 locket set with large diamonds on one side, and on^ the 
 other marked with the letters B. and J., interlaced with 
 the consummate skill of the engraver into a monogram 
 that would have defied the abilities of all professional 
 untiers, even of those who, like Alexander the Great and 
 the Gordian knot, would have taken to the sword for its 
 unravelling. For the more this knot should have been cut, 
 the more difficult would have been its segregation. In 
 side, on one face, was engraved the sentence, " To Bar 
 bara from her Uncle (in anticipation) Victor," and on the 
 other a canary-bird, an exact portraiture of the specimen 
 Barbara had mounted for him, and underneath which 
 were the words, " By their fruits ye shall know them." 
 It must be confessed that the distinguished jeweller that 
 took the order for this locket looked a little surprised at 
 
HOGAKTH MAKES SEVERAL DISCOVERIES. 431 
 
 the directions given him, but from politeness and policy 
 refrained from saying a word or even offering a sugges 
 tion. 
 
 Mr. Oldmixon had been at some pains to ascertain 
 Barbara s floral favorites, and, being told by Jack that 
 they were Jacqueminot roses and violets, had, in addition 
 to the bouquet of roses, provided a large five-rayed star 
 of violets, which occupied the centre of the table with 
 a point reaching across to each guest s plate. 
 
 It was six o clock. Mr. Oldmixon, at the first stroke of 
 the old Dutch clock that stood in the hall, repaired to the 
 drawing-room to be in readiness to receive his guests. 
 Hogarth was the first to arrive. He knew his uncle s 
 strictness in regard to punctuality in arriving to a dinner, 
 and this was a day on which he did not intend to annoy 
 him in any way. He had often known his uncle, after 
 waiting ten minutes for a dilatory person to put in an 
 appearance, order dinner, with the remark that he 
 wouldn t wait " longer than ten minutes for the aisgel 
 Gabriel, if he was starving and had to blow his horn at 
 daybreak ;" and then, to enjoy the confusion and awkward 
 excuses of the procrastinator, " I made him feel uncom 
 fortable at any rate, he would say, " so that we re square 
 on that score. " Hogarth had not seen his uncle since 
 his return from his visit to Mr. Eidley, and had not yet, 
 therefore, delivered the draft of the will. He now came 
 forward, faultlessly attired, with the document in his hand. 
 
 "I went down to Kidley s this morning," he said, 
 " with the rough draft that you gave me, and he was 
 kind enough to have it engrossed so that I could present 
 it to you this evening. But of course you will not care 
 to bother over it now. Shall I lay it on your desk in the 
 library ?" 
 
432 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 " No, no, my dear boy, give it to me now," exclaimed 
 Mr. Oldmixon, holding out his hand for the paper, and 
 then running his eye over it, while Hogarth stood by, 
 watching him closely. "It is all right," he continued, 
 "and to-night, after dinner, we ll all go into the library 
 and I ll execute it. Then, my dear boy, I shall be more 
 than ever attached to you. 
 
 " You are very kind, Uncle Victor, and I thank you 
 sincerely ; but," looking at the clock on the mantel-piece, 
 " is it not time for Jack and the other guests to put in an 
 appearance ?" 
 
 " Yes, and there they are," as the front-door bell was 
 heard to ring. "Jenny (Jenny was one of the maids) 
 will look after Miss Henschel. Now, Hogarth, my boy, 
 I m sure I need not ask you again to meet Jack half 
 way." 
 
 " You will have no reason to be dissatisfied with me, I 
 think." 
 
 A few minutes afterward the new arrivals entered the 
 room, Barbara escorted by her father, and Jack bringing 
 up the rear. 
 
 Mr. Oldmixon had probably never in the whole course 
 of his life been in a condition of greater pleasurable ex 
 citement than he was now. He went forward to meet 
 his guests, and welcomed both Barbara and her father 
 with as much grace and dignity as he would have done 
 had they been a king and his daughter. After the first 
 formal greetings and introductions, he spoke in more 
 familiar strains, and then, on the appearance of Thomas 
 with the announcement that dinner was ready, he offered 
 his arm to Barbara to conduct her to the dining-room. 
 
 Jack, on seeing Hogarth standing near his uncle, had 
 gone toward him, and holding out his hand, said : 
 
HOGAETH MAKES SEVERAL DISCOVERIES. 433 
 
 " How are you, Hogarth, old fellow ?" 
 
 The other took the proffered hand, arid muttered a few 
 words about being u glad to see you, * or something of 
 the kind, and then the two had entered into conversation 
 upon indifferent subjects. All of which was very well. 
 At such times the less that is said about bygones the 
 better ; but a disinterested observer would have noticed 
 that there was an absence of frankness in Hogarth s 
 manner which all his efforts could not prevent his show 
 ing. As to Mr. Oldmixon, he had watched with the most 
 intense interest the behavior of the two brothers in the 
 presence of each other. 
 
 u Jack is a whole-souled, generous fellow," he said, 
 "but the other is a mean, contemptible cad, who hasn t 
 the magnanimity of a scullion." 
 
 Hogarth had been watching his uncle as sharply as his 
 uncle had been watching him, and he had not failed to 
 notice the great impression that the new arrivals made 
 on him. He saw him bow low before Mr. Henscheland 
 his daughter, and observed with surprise the look of ad 
 miration on his face as he spoke a few courteous words to 
 Barbara for to his eyes she was not a beautiful woman. 
 " She has red hair," he said, " and that is enough ; she 
 must have the temper of the devil ! Her figure is good, 
 eyes fair, mouth and teeth not bad, skin clear and del 
 icate, holds herself well, is self-possessed, looks as though 
 she had been accustomed to this sort of thing all her 
 life, but probably dines on bacon and cabbage every day ; 
 is dressed in excellent taste, neither too much nor too lit 
 tle ; but, for all that, her hair is red, and so are her eye 
 brows. From all red-haired women the Lord deliver me ! 
 I wonder where Jack picked her up," he continued, as 
 he brought up the rear of the procession to the dining- 
 19 
 
434 MB. OLDMIXOtf. 
 
 room. " He s welcome to her, for all I care ; she ll tear 
 his eyes out if he ventures to differ with he r." 
 
 By this time they had seated themselves at the table, 
 and the gentlemen were putting their loutonnieres in 
 their places. Barbara, who was wearing a bouquet of 
 violets that Jack had given her, put that of Jacquemi 
 not roses at the side of it, and was unrolling her nap 
 kin when she perceived the little morocco box that it had 
 partially concealed. At first she did not appear to un 
 derstand why the casket should be there. She looked 
 inquiringly at Mr. Oldmixon, and then at Jack, but their 
 faces wore the blankest of expressions, and she saw that 
 no information was to be obtained from them. Appar 
 ently making up her mind that it was there unintention 
 ally, or at least that it was not meant for her, she ceased 
 to regard it, and turning to Mr. Oldmixon, complimented 
 him on the beauty of the table decorations. 
 
 " I never saw anything more beautiful in the way of 
 flowers," she said, " than that bed of violets ; and these 
 roses," looking at the bouquet that she had fastened to 
 her dress, " are simply lovely." 
 
 "I am glad you like them, for I got them to please 
 you. Now," he continued, " won t you kindly open that 
 box by your plate, and tell me if I have succeeded half 
 so well with its contents as I have with the flowers ?" 
 
 Barbara looked a little surprised, but, at a glance 
 from Jack, who had a pretty exact idea of his uncle s in 
 tention, she opened the case, and, while ablush of pleasure 
 overspread her face, took the locket, to which a gold chain 
 of elegant design was attached, out of its resting-place 
 and held it in her hand admiringly. 
 
 "It is a token of affection," said Mr. Oldmixon, 
 " from your uncle that is to be." 
 
HOGAETH MAKES SEVEEAL DISCOVEEIES. 435 
 
 "It is very beautiful," she said, "and I shall always 
 prize it as a "gift from one who has ever been kind to 
 me." 
 
 Mr. Oldmixon was in ecstasies. " Pass it around, my 
 dear/ he exclaimed. " Let Jack and Hogarth and your 
 father see it." 
 
 Jack admired it, and thanked his uncle warmly for his 
 affectionate remembrance of the woman who in a few 
 weeks would be his wife. Hogarth received it next 
 as it went on its rounds. Neither of the others had had 
 time to open it, but Hogarth saw that it was very valua 
 ble, and the idea galled him, for he thought that the 
 money spent for it had, as a matter of fact, been so 
 much taken from his inheritance. 
 
 " It must have cost at least a couple of thousand dol 
 lars," he said to himself, "and the old fool gives that 
 splendid jewel to a girl that probably would have been 
 just as well pleased with one of plain gold. The idea of 
 giving diamonds to a woman of her class in life is ridic 
 ulous. 
 
 He opened it as he thought all this, and read the in 
 scription, then he examined the other inside face, and 
 saw the bird engraved there, and the words around it. 
 He recognized it as an exact representation, so far as the 
 engraver could make it such, of the canary-bird of which 
 his uncle was so careful. A deadly sickness came over 
 him, and a paleness that could be felt overspread his 
 countenance. He did not dare to raise his eyes to those 
 of his uncle, which he instinctively knew were fixed 
 upon him with a malicious expression, that all their pos 
 sessor s power could not conceal. lie could not even 
 venture to speak lest the tone, or the hoarseness, or the 
 tremor of his voice should betray him. He could only 
 
436 MR. OLDMIXOtf. 
 
 stretch out his hand with the locket toward Mr. lienschel, 
 and hear indistinctly, as though they came from a long 
 distance off, the remarks made about the locket. 
 
 It had gotten back to Barbara, and she was examining 
 the interior. 
 
 " It was very kind of you," she was saying, " to put 
 the canary-bird where I could always have the opportu 
 nity of seeing it, and of being reminded of the occasion 
 that first made us acquainted." 
 
 Yes, his worst fears were realized. She was the 
 " bird-stuffer" to whom the money was to go, unless 
 Jack married her, and he was going to marry her and be 
 come the heir himself. There was no doubt now that 
 he had been made a fool of, and that the will that he had 
 had drafted and that his uncle now had in his pocket was 
 intended to assist in a fraud then being perpetrated upon 
 him. " Yes," he thought, " in all probability the hypo 
 critical old scoundrel has originated the whole story 
 about the Bangs girl with the idea of getting me entrap 
 ped into a marriage with her. He has doubtless put the 
 notion of deceiving me into her head, and if I had gone 
 to see her to-day I should have found her fully supplied 
 with a set of well-concocted lies prepared for the direct 
 purpose of victimizing me. 1 had a narrow escape of it ! 
 But my hour is at hand, and then I shall show him as 
 little mercy as he has shown me. 
 
 " As to his signing the will he has in his pocket, of 
 course he will do nothing of the kind ; or, if he does, 
 there will be a trick of some sort about it that will ren 
 der it invalid. 1 see no hope whatever of my being the 
 heir. It is impossible. lie has brought Jack and that 
 girl here for the sole purpose of declaring him or her 
 the inheritor of his estate, and at the same time to mor- 
 
HOGAKTH MAKES SEVEEAL DISCOVERIES. 437 
 
 tif j me. His death will do me no good except to rid me 
 of a tormentor. It would only put them sooner in pos 
 session of the property." 
 
 Hogarth was not the man to perpetrate a useless crime ; 
 he recognized the fact that there was an element of dan 
 ger even in smothering his uncle in the dead of night. 
 He saw how shrewd and apparently prepared for him on 
 every point the old man was ; how he had divined his 
 thoughts, and met him at every turn of his career, since 
 they two had lived under one roof. It was more than 
 likely, therefore, that he had become aware of the murder 
 ous intentions of his nephew, and that he was so closely 
 guarded that an attempt against his life would not only 
 result in failure, but would be apt to be followed by the 
 immediate arrest of the perpetrator. 
 
 He sat through the dinner in a half-dazed state, talk 
 ing to no one, and replying in monosyllables and vaguely 
 to the remarks that were occasionally addressed to him. 
 He was aware that all present but himself were laughing 
 and talking as though they were in the height of enjoy 
 ment. He heard his uncle, who seemed to be in an al 
 most abnormal condition of good-humor and merriment, 
 explaining several of the dishes to Barbara and descant 
 ing on their delicacy and rarity. To him everything 
 was tasteless, but he swallowed great draughts of wine, 
 and after a time the effect was felt in a diminution of his 
 fears and an increase of his perceptive and intellectual 
 powers. 
 
 He was very confident that his uncle had some scheme 
 in view in having him meet Jack and Barbara, and he 
 was well aware of the fact that he should need all his 
 powers of resistance and of attack in order to maintain 
 himself in the contest that was impending. He thought 
 
438 MK. OLDMIXON. 
 
 seriously of getting up from the table without ceremony 
 or excuse, and walking deliberately out of the room, never 
 again to make his appearance in the house, or, indeed, any 
 where where he would be liable to meet any one now at the 
 table ; for he felt quite convinced that he had nothing to 
 his advantage to expect from his uncle. But even this at 
 tempt he all at once became aware would not probably be 
 successful, for, happening to raise his eyes, he saw one of 
 the waiters exchanging glances with Mr. Oldmixon,and he 
 at once formed the idea that both of them were detectives, 
 and that they would stop him before he could leave the 
 house. 
 
 This idea, once it had found a place in his mind, dis 
 turbed him greatly, and caused him to watch the two men, 
 who were apparently skilled in the business of serving an 
 elaborate dinner. The face of one of them seemed to be 
 familiar to him. li Where had he seen it before?" he 
 asked himself. He scanned it closely, but he did not 
 readily associate it with that of any particular person or 
 event. But suddenly the idea flashed upon him that it 
 was that of the cabman who had driven him that morning 
 when he had started from Mr. Ridley s office to go to see 
 Miss Bangs, and had, after reading the stolen letter, 
 changed his destination to the Fifth Avenue Hotel the 
 same man who had subsequently driven him home. He 
 had done a good deal to change his countenance. He had 
 shaven off his beard, or had, perhaps, only removed his 
 false whiskers. He had made his face look much paler 
 than it had appeared in the morning, and he had altered 
 the cut of his hair, but, for all these differences, he was 
 sure these two men were the same. 
 
 Had the fellow seen him reading the purloined letter ? 
 " My God," he exclaimed, under his breath, " where is 
 
HOGARTH MAKES SEVERAL DISCOVERIES. 439 
 
 the letter ? Did 1 leave it in the cab ? Yes, I laid it on 
 the seat while I lit a cigar, and I never touched it after 
 ward. That man took it, and my uncle probably has it 
 in his pocket at this instant !" 
 
 He knew that he had committed an offence against the 
 laws of the United States that subjected him to a long 
 term of imprisonment, and he did not doubt that the two 
 men were there disguised as waiters for the express pur 
 pose, on a single word from his uncle, of arresting him 
 and taking him to Ludlow Street Jail, there to await his 
 trial on the charge of stealing and opening a letter not 
 addressed to him. Still, what could he do ? There was 
 nothing for him to do but await developments. He was 
 in the toils of his implacable enemy, and he knew that 
 when the explosion came there would be no mercy. 
 
 He gave some attention to what was being said in the 
 hope that there might be something let drop by his un 
 cle that would give him an inkling of what was to come, 
 but the old gentleman was apparently thinking of very 
 different affairs than those that occupied Hogarth s mind. 
 He was telling Barbara of the origin of the Oldmixon 
 family. 
 
 " Yes, we are certainly distinguished," he said, with a 
 hearty laugh. " 1 think I once told you something about 
 our origin. The founder of the family was a reprobate 
 called Nick. He began life by robbing a church when 
 he was only sixteen years old. For this he was tried, 
 found guilty, and sentenced to be burned at the stake. 
 But while he was being conveyed to the place of execution, 
 he broke loose from the guard, and, after running nearly 
 a mile with soldiers, monks, and all the rag-tag and bob 
 tail of the town after him, he plunged into the sea and 
 swam out to a vessel lying at anchor half a mile from the 
 
440 MR. OLDMIXOK. 
 
 shore. They were all afraid to follow him, and thus he es 
 caped. The vessel was a noted pirate, and, after a short 
 time, Nick became the captain of the vessel. 5 
 
 " How long ago was that ?" inquired Barbara, amused 
 as much at Mr. Oldmixon s delight as at the story itself. 
 
 " "Well, let me see that must have been in the year 
 989, during the reign of Ethelred, the last of the English 
 kings, before the final Danish invasion. "Wasn t it, 
 Jack?" 
 
 " Don t ask me, answered Jack, with a laugh, "I 
 don t pretend to your antiquarian knowledge of the Old- 
 mixons." 
 
 " But, to goon," resumed Mr. Oldmixon, "Nick be 
 came a great pirate, or viking, as perhaps he was called in 
 that day, and after he had advanced in years he was of 
 course called Old Nick. When he got to be too old to 
 steal anything more as a pirate, he settled down on an es 
 tate that he bought with his plunder and set up as a re 
 former. I may,- by way of parenthesis, remark that the 
 like process goes on in our day very often. 
 
 " But, although he built an abbey and endowed it with 
 a vast property, he always went by the name of l Old 
 Nick, and a son that he had was designated Old Nick s 
 son. This son killed his father, and was altogether one 
 of the most diabolical of the family. Being rich, how 
 ever, he was able to buy immunity from punishment both 
 in this world and in the world to come. lie was at the 
 same time very pious, and somehow or other became a 
 mitred abbot. It wouldn t of course do for a mitred ab 
 bot to go by the name of Old Nick s son. It was too 
 infernally suggestive of his devilish traits, so he changed 
 the name to Oldmixon, and by that cognomen we have 
 been known ever since." 
 
HOGARTH MAKES SEVERAL DISCOVERIES. 441 
 
 Everybody but Hogarth laughed at this apocryphal 
 narration. He tried to smile, but the effect was a sickly 
 one, and he gave up the attempt before the angles of his 
 mouth had begun to expand. 
 
 It was impossible at such a small dinner-party as that 
 for there to be any private conversation. Barbara could 
 not, therefore, tell Jack what she thought of his brother, 
 and perhaps she would not have told him had she been 
 afforded every opportunity for so doing, for she did not 
 like him. She liked neither his appearance nor his man 
 ners. "With a woman s quick intuitions she saw that there 
 was something preying on his mind something that en 
 grossed his attention to the exclusion of everything else, 
 and that filled him with a fear that he could not conceal. 
 
 The dinner had nearly come to an end, and Mr. Old- 
 mixon, to Barbara s great satisfaction, had made no at 
 tack on Hogarth. Indeed, he had scarcely spoken to him 
 during the repast, beyond occasionally asking him his 
 opinion of a dish or a wine, and then always addressing 
 him as " My dear boy," or " My dear Hogarth." 
 
 But while the coffee was being handed, Mr. Oldmixon 
 seemed to awaken to the consciousness of Hogarth s 
 presence, and to the fact that he had scarcely done his 
 part toward making the evening pass pleasantly. He 
 sat right opposite to his uncle, and the latter, as he sipped 
 his coffee, looked at him with the most pleasant expres 
 sion imaginable on his face. 
 
 " What has made you so silent, my dear boy ?" he said. 
 " One would think, from your lugubrious expression and 
 melancholic manner, that you were about to be led out to 
 execution. Let me see," he continued, in a meditative 
 way, " the last Oldmixon executed was Sir Guy, who, un 
 fortunately, took it into his head to poison his wife. He 
 19* 
 
442 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 used arsenic for the purpose, arid of course the chemists 
 and doctors discovered it, and Sir Guy was hanged in 
 chains. We know better nowadays. When we want to 
 kill our wives we don t poison we we," hesitating and 
 looking smilingly at Hogarth, " we employ some method 
 not so likely to lead to detection. Now, if 1 had a wife 
 that 1 wanted to get rid of, I d smo " He checked him 
 self suddenly and said, have her struck by light 
 ning. " 
 
 " Struck by lightning !" said Hogarth, who had no 
 ticed the break in the word " smother," but who, think 
 ing that his uncle had stopped out of consideration for 
 him, was desirous of keeping him in that vein. " How 
 could you accomplish that ? Suppose you tell us," he add 
 ed, with a degree of recklessness that he was sorry for ere 
 many seconds had passed, " for Jack s benefit. He s the 
 only one here likely to require the knowledge." 
 
 Mr. Oldmixon at these latter words seemed to be upon 
 the point of losing whatever of self-restraint he had been 
 exercising during the dinner, and of bursting out into 
 some passionate speech against Hogarth. His red face 
 became still redder, his eyes glared, his mouth twitched, 
 and he seemed to be trying to speak, and yet to be unable 
 to utter a word. At last, however, he appeared to have 
 obtained sufficient control of himself to go on with the 
 conversation, though it had evidently been a hard struggle, 
 and his voice trembled at first with the effort that he 
 made to appear calm. 
 
 " Jack, rny dear Hogarth," he said, " will never need 
 any method of getting rid of a wife, for you see he is not 
 an Oldmixon so far as his character and disposition are 
 concerned. Indeed, in his mental organization he takes 
 after his mother, who was a very excellent and sensible 
 
HOGABTH MAKES SEVERAL DISCOVERIES. 443 
 
 woman, altogether too good for the man whose wife she 
 was." 
 
 " Thank you, Uncle Victor," said Jack, with feeling. 
 Barbara gave him a look of thankfulness. Hogarth, be 
 ginning now to perceive that he had precipitated matters, 
 looked as black as a thunder-cloud. 
 
 " But you, my dear boy," continued Mr. Oldmixon, 
 " though you have no further use for any wife-ridding 
 process, may, perhaps, in your future career marry again 
 though I am free to say that I think that contingency 
 very remote and it is therefore just possible that if, only 
 upon the principle that variety is as well the spice of 
 death as it is of life, you may find the procedure I have 
 in mind not only simple but effectual." 
 
 Hogarth laughed long and loudly at this speech, but it 
 was easy to see that his laughter was forced. He had de 
 termined to brave the matter through to the end, and to 
 force his uncle once and for all to show his cards and 
 play his game. He began to suspect that, after all, there 
 was more guessing than knowledge. 
 
 " One would think, "he said, still laughing, " that you 
 were accusing me of having gotten rid of my wife by 
 some easy process. It is well for me that all those that 
 hear you are friends, otherwise I could scarcely hope to 
 escape suspicion. However, you scarcely intended what 
 your words seemed to imply. So, by all means tell us 
 your quick and easy process for getting rid of a wife." 
 
 " Ah, iny dear boy, I thought 1 should at last interest 
 you ; but come," he added, looking around the table, <( we 
 have finished dinner. Let us go into the library, where I 
 have a little business to transact, and some selections from 
 my novel to read, and where, if my dear Barbara does not 
 object, the gentlemen can smoke their cigars. Come !" 
 
444 ME. OLDMIXOtf . 
 
 " I hope you will excuse me, Uncle Yictor," said Ho 
 garth, thinking that here might be an opportunity for es 
 cape, " I am not feeling very well." 
 
 "No, I cannot excuse you, for the business mainly 
 concerns you, my dear boy. This paper requires to be 
 executed," taking, as he spoke, the draft of the will from 
 his pocket. "You will have to come." He said these 
 last words very emphatically, and with his eyes fixed on 
 Hogarth. 
 
 Hogarth looked around him. The two detectives of 
 ficiating as waiters were not present ; doubtless they were 
 stationed so as to arrest him, should he attempt to leave 
 the company. " Yery well !" he said, with some des 
 peration in his voice, " I have no objection. Perhaps I 
 can stand not only your process, but even your novel." 
 
 It was a challenge, and so Mr. Oldmixon regarded it. 
 " Thanks, my dear boy. You are very kind. Come !" 
 and then, giving his arm to Barbara, he escorted her to 
 the library, the rest following, and the two strange waiters 
 
 . as Hogarth, who looked behind him, ascertained 
 
 watching them from the dining-room, into which they 
 had entered as the others left it. 
 
 " The dinner is over now," said Mr. Oldmixon to Bar 
 bara. * 1 think you will admit that 1 have kept my prom 
 ise as well as was possible under the circumstances. But 
 for God s sake don t interfere with me further ! 
 
 She did not know what to think. She was sure a ca 
 tastrophe of some kind was impending, and yet she was 
 powerless to interfere without probably making matters 
 worse. She looked imploringly at him, but he turned 
 away his face, unwilling or unable to meet her appeal. 
 
CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 "THE ROGUE S MARCH." 
 
 "Now," said Mr. Oldmixon, gayly, after they were 
 all seated, and the gentlemen had, with Barbara s per 
 mission, lighted their cigars, " first let me tell you how to 
 get rid of a wife that you are tired of. You may laugh, 
 he continued, smiling at the looks of merriment he saw 
 about him for even Hogarth was laughing " but it s a 
 serious matter. It s a process that never fails. You 
 must have her struck by lightning." 
 
 " So you told us just now, Uncle," said Hogarth, " but 
 the process must be rather difficult to carry out. You 
 might, to be sure, invite her to climb one of those tall 
 poles in the street, and touch the wire, but not many 
 wives are endowed with sufficient strength and agility to 
 do that. Your plan would require a previous education 
 in gymnastics that few women are likely to have. Now, 
 there, for instance, is Miss Henschel " 
 
 "Now, my dear Hogarth, for Heaven s sake," said 
 Mr. Oldmixon, with both hands raised in a deprecating 
 manner, " don t bring Miss Henschel into this discussion. 
 1 admit once and for all that your experience with wives 
 is sufficient to give you some idea of their strength and 
 agility, but my plan requires no such acrobatic feat as 
 climbing an electric lamp-pole. It is much simpler. 
 
 " I was once in the city of Merida, in Yucatan," he 
 went on, having succeeded in silencing Hogarth, " when 
 
446 MR, OLDMIXON. 
 
 the Alcalde, standing in the doorway of his palace talking 
 to me, saw his wife an American woman, by the by, 
 and not disposed to submit to marital restraint curveting 
 around the plaza on a wild mustang that she was endeav 
 oring to break. He called to her to stop, but she paid 
 no attention to him, save by smiling defiantly at him, as, 
 in making the circuit of the plaza, she came repeatedly 
 near to where we were standing. 
 
 " 1 wish he would throw you, said her husband. 
 But he did not, and the lady continued to smile. 
 
 " 1 wish the ground would open and swallow you up ! 
 exclaimed the angry husband, the next time she came 
 round. Still the lady smiled, and the ground did not 
 open. 
 
 " Then he wished that the devil and all his demons 
 would fly away with her. But it is needless to say that 
 they didn t. Probably they were otherwise engaged, or 
 maybe he was riot sufficiently influential with his Satanic 
 majesty. Had he been an Oldmixon, now, he could have 
 raised the devil without much trouble. 
 
 u It was a clear day. The sun was shining in all the 
 fervid heat and glare of the tropics, and there was not a 
 cloud as large as a man s hand to be seen anywhere. My 
 friend, the Alcalde, had not succeeded in arresting the 
 circus-like performance of his wife, who, with even if 
 possible greater speed than before, was rushing around 
 the plaza. On she came like an Amazon, her horse s 
 mane and tail streaming in the wind, and her whole soul 
 bent to the excitement of the occasion. As she came 
 opposite to us, and scarcely twenty feet distant, she turned 
 and smiled defiantly at her husband. 
 
 U< I wish the lightning would strike you dead! he 
 exclaimed, furiously. The words were scarcely out of 
 
"THE ROGUE S MARCH." 447 
 
 his mouth when there was a blinding flash, a terrific peal, 
 and the wife lay on the ground, while the mustang swept 
 like a whirlwind around the plaza, apparently uninjured. 
 She was dead, and her husband had killed her." 
 
 " It is horrible !" said Barbara, covering her face with 
 her hands, " but of course it was a mere coincidence." 
 
 "1 think not," remarked Mr. Oldmixon, calmly. 
 " It has succeeded every time, to my knowledge, that it 
 has been tried." 
 
 "But how often has it been tried?" inquired Jack, 
 laughingly. 
 
 44 Once, only once," answered his uncle, "but then 
 see what chances there were against its success, and how 
 can you doubt that the imprecation and the death bore 
 to each other the relation of cause and effect ? I have 
 been several times on the point of trying it against people 
 that disgusted me, but there s always been something to 
 prevent me. I would have tried it on that fellow that 
 put currant jelly on canvas-back duck, only I didn t 
 want to make a scene at the club. Besides, it might be 
 dangerous to others, unless employed out in the open 
 air, and in a house would probably ruin the furniture. 
 Then, again, it must be a horrid thing to have a person s 
 death on your mind. And perhaps, after all, it is only 
 efficacious against wives." 
 
 "Yes," said Jack, "all the conditions must be ob 
 served ; in which case the wife would have to be riding 
 around a plaza on a wild mustang. 
 
 Hogarth had made no remark at the end of the story, 
 except an exclamation that sounded something like 
 "bosh," and that was probably intended to intimate his 
 belief that the whole recital was a fabrication of his un 
 cle s. "Whether the story were true or not, Mr. Old- 
 
448 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 mixon. did not deign to say. It had served his pur 
 pose of introducing the subject of the killing of wives, 
 and of showing that Hogarth s nerves were strong 
 enough, except when his own particular method was 
 referred to. 
 
 "Now," he continued, after going to his desk and 
 laying the draft of the new will on the table, " I pro 
 pose to carry out the plan, my dear Hogarth, that we 
 were talking about this afternoon. Will you kindly 
 ring the bell ?" 
 
 Hogarth did as he was requested, and almost instant 
 ly the two waiters made their appearance. 
 
 "I want you to witness a document," said Mr. Old- 
 mixon. " This," he continued, " is my last will and tes 
 tament ; as you see, I sign it," writing his name as he 
 spoke. "Now, will you kindly sign here?" indicat 
 ing with his finger the place where he wished them 
 to put their signatures. " Thanks !" as they affixed 
 their names ; "I think that makes the paper complete." 
 Then, speaking a few words in a low tone to one of the 
 men, he signified to them that their presence was no 
 longer required, and they left the room. 
 
 "My dear Hogarth," he resumed, "I trust you may 
 live long to enjoy the fortune that is here bequeathed to 
 you. 1 do not expect to cumber the earth much longer, 
 so that it isn t likely that you will be kept out of the 
 estate for any considerable period. I suppose you might 
 as well keep this, as it concerns you more than it does me or 
 any one else." With which words he handed the paper to 
 Hogarth. " Now, if you please," he continued, " 1 will 
 read you a few extracts from my novel ;" and turning to 
 his desk, he took out of a compartment a manuscript, of 
 which he at once proceeded to turn over the leaves, ap- 
 
"THE ROGUE S MABCH." 449 
 
 parently with the view of selecting the parts that he 
 especially desired to bring to the notice of his guests. 
 
 Hogarth had taken the will, but, without looking at it, 
 and without one word of thanks or of anything else to 
 his uncle, had laid it on the mantel-piece near where he 
 was sitting. Indeed, as though divining that something 
 of a serious nature was impending over him, he had be 
 come as livid as a ghost, and apparently so overcome with 
 terror that he shivered as if suffering from an ague 
 attack. As to Jack and Barbara, nothing could have 
 been more unpleasant than their situation, for they also 
 were quite sure that Mr. Oldmixon had some plan that 
 he was carrying out as a finality in the matter of his con 
 test with Hogarth, and that the denouement, when it 
 came, would be of such a character as to render their po 
 sition still more embarrassing. Mr. Henschel was ap 
 parently unaware that there was any " reading between 
 the lines" going on. He thought it singular that Mr. 
 Oldmixon had changed his mind in regard to his will, 
 for he had supposed that Jack was going to receive the 
 bulk of the estate, but from the placid manner that Iris 
 son-in-law in expectancy took the matter, he supposed 
 that some compensation had been, in some way or other, 
 provided, and that the principles of justice had not been 
 violated. 
 
 After some little delay, and after repeatedly looking at 
 the clock that stood on the desk, Mr. Oldmixon found 
 the part that he was looking for, and, amid the most 
 complete silence, began to speak : 
 
 "I must premise," he said, " by stating that lam 
 going to read only a single scene from my book. It is 
 one, however, that will give you some idea of my style 
 and powers of description, and I think may be taken a& 
 
450 MR. OLDMIXOX. 
 
 a sample of the whole book." Again looking at the 
 clock, he read : 
 
 Hugo was a man in whose person were united most 
 of the vices that in general are only met with in many 
 men. He was, as it were, a microcosm of diabolism, and 
 to offset his plenitude of wickedness there was not one 
 single redeeming virtue. In early life he had shown 
 the inherent depravity of his character by torturing all 
 the animals that came in his way and that it was safe 
 for him to attack, for with all his cruelty he was coward 
 ly to such a degree that it often happened that boys and 
 men weaker than himself thrashed him for some insult or 
 outrage that he had perpetrated while he, like " the poor 
 craven bridegroom, said never a word." 
 
 " It argues little for the existence of that keenness of 
 perception with which women are said to be endowed, 
 that a man like Hugo should have been able to win the 
 affections of a woman the opposite of himself in all men 
 tal qualities. But so it was. Certainly he could only 
 have done so by assuming virtues that he did not possess. 
 As we shall see hereafter, it was no unusual thing for him 
 to take upon himself the livery of heaven while diligent 
 ly engaged in serving his master the devil. 
 
 " That," he continued, laying down his manuscript, 
 " will serve as an introduction of the two principal char 
 acters of the work ; of course there is a good deal more in 
 regard to them, but I refrain from reading it now, being 
 desirous of bringing up at once one of the principal in 
 cidents, if not the chief one of the story. 
 
 " Hugo and Cecilia were married and left soon after 
 the ceremony on their wedding-tour, and, in the course of 
 it, they arrived, late one evening, at the little city of 
 Acropolis. They did not do much sight-seeing that 
 
"THE ROGUE S MARCH." 451 
 
 night, and the next day the rain poured down in torrents, 
 so that they were confined to their rooms in the hotel. 
 Now we resume the narrative : 
 
 " < It was not a large room in which Hugo and Cecilia 
 were spending the afternoon, but it was comfortable, and 
 fitted up in a manner a little better than that usually 
 followed in the hotels of country towns. Adjoining it 
 was the bedroom ; a door communicating between the 
 two was open. 
 
 " i He was already beginning to weary of her, and per 
 haps she had discovered that he was not the paragon of per 
 fection that she had taken him to be. She was sitting 
 in a low rocking-chair, while he stood with his back to 
 her, looking out of the window at the rain, as it filled the 
 gutters and rushed down the steep incline of the street 
 with almost the force of a mountain torrent. He had 
 said many bitter things to her that afternoon, and, more 
 over, she had detected him in several of the lies that he 
 had told while wooing her, so that the feeling be 
 tween them was very far from being of that kind that 
 generally exists, at least through the honeymoon. Some 
 thing that she said appeared to rouse all the evil passions 
 that were slumbering in his breast, for suddenly he turned 
 upon her, and with an expression upon his face that the 
 arch-fiend of hell might have envied, he seized her " 
 
 " Stop ! cried Hogarth, rising from the chair on which 
 he was sitting, and coming into the middle of the room. 
 " By some means or other, aided, perhaps, by that demon 
 that you say I am like, you know that I killed my 
 wife-" 
 
 " Ah, you confess it then, murderer !" exclaimed Mr. 
 Oldmixon, jumping up also, and meeting his nephew half 
 way, till they stood not three feet apart, confronting each 
 
452 ME. OLDMIXON. 
 
 other. " I thought I should torture you into revealing 
 your crime, and at last my hope is realized. " 
 
 1 Yes ; 1 carried her into the next room, threw her on 
 the bed, and smothered her to death with a pillow. " 
 
 " My God !" exclaimed Barbara and Jack in a breath, 
 while Mr. Henschel, looking horror-stricken, could only 
 mutter a few inarticulate expressions. 
 
 "I knew it!" cried Mr. Oldmixon, excitedly. " The 
 wretch confesses ! He smothered her ! Oh, double-dyed 
 villain that you are, why the great God does not strike 
 you dead as you stand there is a mystery to me ! Liar, 
 swindler, murderer, thief !" As he uttered this last word 
 he threw the purloined letter on the floor before his cow 
 ering nephew. " For some inscrutable reason of His own, 
 God sees fit to let you live till such time as He shall put 
 it into your heart to take yourself out of this world ; and 
 may He do it speedily ! Go !" he continued, while all the 
 rest of the company were standing horrified at the awful 
 scene before them. " Go, wretch, basilisk, whose very 
 look chills the marrow in the bones of honest men. If 
 by the rising of to-morrow s sun your apology for a soul 
 inhabits your vile body, the hangman shall separate them. " 
 
 Hogarth heard all this with head bowed, and eyes 
 closed, and trembling in body and limb. Barbara, un 
 able longer to endure the agony of the situation, had fallen 
 upon the sofa, and was being ministered to by Jack and 
 her father. She was sobbing hysterically, and the two men 
 were on their knees before her, oblivious now of what 
 was passing between Hogarth and Mr. Oldmixon, who 
 still stood, the one with bowed head, the other with 
 form erect, eyes flashing, lips compressed, breathing 
 hurriedly, and with one arm extended toward the door. 
 
 " You meant to smother me to-night as you smothered 
 
"THE ROGUE S MARCH. 
 
 453 
 
 your wife," cried Mr. Oldmixon, still pointing toward 
 the door. " Will you go ?" 
 
 Without a word further, Hogarth moved slowly toward 
 the door; as he reached it, he raised his head. "My 
 God !" he exclaimed, "that face again !" As his hand 
 rested on the knob, and the door opened to allow him to 
 pass, Mr. Oldmixon stepped back and touched a little 
 white button that, fastened to a wire covered with silk, 
 lay on the desk. Instantly a band of musicians, stationed 
 somewhere outside, began to play. 
 
 
 
 ,*-*- 
 
 
 -r*. -*. m -*. m j*. _-. _-- -:*: -*: - -*- -m- m 
 
MB. OLDMIXON. 
 
 
 i^ 1 ^ 
 
 It was the " Bogue s March " to which Hogarth slunk 
 out of his uncle s house uninterfered with, according to 
 their instructions, by those that watched his departure. 
 He stood on the porch for an instant, and then, hastily 
 descending the steps, walked rapidly toward the North 
 River. 
 
 The music ceased, and Mr. Oldmixon, overcome by the 
 excitement and exertion, dropped panting into a chair. 
 Barbara was better, and Jack, seeing that his uncle was 
 overpowered by the force of the event that had taken 
 place, hurried to see if assistance was required. Mr. 
 Oldmixon held out his hand. 
 
 " My dear boy," he gasped, " I m afraid this has been 
 a little too much for me. My nitrite of amyl !" Jack 
 felt in his uncle s waistcoat pocket, but did not find it. 
 
 "I left it in my other waistcoat when I changed my 
 clothes for dinner," said Mr. Oldmixon, feebly. Jack 
 was off in an instant to get it. " Barbara, my dear, come 
 here, kneel here by my side," as she approached him with 
 streaming eyes and clasped hands. "I m sorry, dear, 
 that I had to give you pain, but I could not help it. 
 
"THE KOGUE S MAKCH." 455 
 
 We re a bad lot, my dear, all but Jack. He ll be kind to 
 you, for he s a good, manly fellow, and and you ll be " 
 speaking with greater difficulty " very happy. My time 
 has come. I know it, for things are beginning to look 
 strange and and don t put out the lights!" he ex 
 claimed, with more strength. " No, no, never mind ; it 
 is getting dark to me, that s all. A nice dinner party ! 
 A very nice dinner party ! No one but a lunatic would 
 have acted as I did. Ah, Jack," as his nephew returned 
 with the nitrite of amyl and held the vial to his nostrils, 
 i i it s very little use to me now. Hand me that paper 
 that the basilisk left on the mantel-piece. By George ! I 
 can see once more ! The amyl did some good, after all. 
 Open it, Jack. It s only a piece of blank paper. I had 
 to pretend it was a will, or the fellow would have left 
 before I got through with him. My poor child," turning 
 to Barbara, " how I did shock and grieve you ! But I 
 couldn t help it, dear. It had to be done, and I had to 
 do it I had to do it. That band and the * Rogue s March ! 
 Quite original ! Not another man in the world would 
 have thought of such a thing. The basilisk ! What did 
 I tell you, Jack ? 1 said the weasel would finish him, 
 didn t I?" 
 
 The last words were spoken in so low a tone that Jack 
 and Barbara, who were kneeling at the side of the chair, 
 could scarcely hear them. The nitrite of amyl appeared 
 to have lost its power, or rather the old man had lost his 
 power to breathe it into his lungs, and he lay back in the 
 chair, gasping in quick and short inspirations for the air 
 that was all around him, but which he was unable to get. 
 Then suddenly his face flushed as a candle, just before it 
 dies out, brightens into a little flash of life. 
 
 " Give me your hand, dear," he said, in a clear and 
 
456 MR. OLDMIXON. 
 
 distinct voice. " A good girl ! a good girl ! There are 
 not many things in this world better than a good woman. 
 It s all right about the will. You and Jack Ridley has 
 it Look at me ! I want to see your face the last thing 
 on earth. I m sorry I did it, but I had to do it band 
 and all I had to do it. Ah !" he continued, as, with 
 his eyes fixed upon the door, he raised himself a little in 
 the chair, " I see him. The death look is in his face. 
 He is going toward the river, and she she beckons him 
 on. Camilla ! In a few minutes you will be avenged. 
 His life for yours ! His life for yours ! But I shall 
 not live to see it. No no," as he sank back, speak 
 ing scarcely above a whisper, and in a despairing tone. 
 "I shall not live quite long enough Once more 
 he turned to Barbara: " My dear, God bless !" His 
 eyes closed, his jaw fell, a little twitching of the corners 
 of the mouth caused an expression that was almost a 
 smile, and his head fell forward on his breast. 
 
 " Oh, Jack !" cried Barbara, throwing herself into his 
 arms, and sobbing as though her heart would break, "he 
 is dead!" 
 
 " Yes, dear, he is dead. God give him peace 1" 
 
 THE END. 
 \ 
 
DR. HAMMOND S NOVELS. * 
 
 LA L. 
 
 A Novel. 
 
 BY DR. WILLIAM A. HAMMOND 
 
 SIXTH EDITION NOW READY. 
 
 SOME OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 ONE OPINION. 
 
 " Lai, the heroine of Dr. W. A. Hammond s story (Appleton), is short for 
 Lalla Rookh. The shortened name carries to the ears an impression which the 
 book confirms. A more disagreeable book to one who loves art it would be hard 
 to find. The veneer of philosophy which covers the cheap material out of which 
 the book is constructed only makes the novel more objectionable. Every canon 
 of good taste is violated, and one has not even a piece of rough humanity to fall 
 back upon. Tbe book is a piece of artistic falsehood." A tlantic Monthly. 
 
 OTHER AND DIFFERENT OPINIONS. 
 
 " The unfolding of the character and conscience, the taste and intelligence, of 
 this frontier wild flower, the brutal ordeals to which she is subjected, and from 
 which she extricates herself unharmed by her own pluck and energy, the blos 
 soming of her love for the hero of the tale, and the discovery that she was not 
 the child of the ruffian Bosler, but had been stolen by him in infancy from parents 
 of great refinement and intelligence, are woven into a romance of genuine but 
 unequal power, and in which, besides this growth of a soul and birth of love, are 
 also depicted some dramatic scenes of far Western life, illustrative of its lawless 
 ness and sense of honor, its fierceness and gentleness, its strange commingling 
 of vices and virtues, its hospitality, generosity, and quick recognition of physical 
 
 or intellectual excellence." Harper s New Monthly Magazine. 
 
 IOVERI 
 
2 DR. HAMMOND S NOVELS 
 
 * The wildness of the mountains, the startling depravities of the mining-camp, 
 the savage cruelty of man, the terror of private vengeance-it is with themes like 
 these that Dr. Hammond mingles the tenderness of women s hearts, the heroism 
 of personal courage and chivalrous devotion to duty, and the eccentricities of 
 genius devoted to high intellectual and social ends." Literary World (Boston). 
 44 The comprehension of the trials and temptations of Western roughs, of their 
 singular intellectual ability when it comes to circumventing each other, of their 
 remarkable codes of honor, and the way in which they deceive their own con 
 sciences, as well as their friends and enemies, betrays a remarkable knowledge 
 of human nature. We have here all the good points we have been taught to 
 associate with this roughest sort of life." Critic (New York). 
 
 "It possesses the great merit of being interesting from beginning to end. 
 The characters are striking, and several of them have an element of originality ; 
 the incidents are abundant and effective ; the situations are well devised, and, if 
 there is not much intricacy in the plot, there is a certain bustle and rapidity of 
 movement which answers instead of more complicated machinery. Here, it will 
 be seen, are some of the most important qualities of a good story ; and we risk 
 nothing in predicting for Lai a notable success." New York Tribune. 
 
 " Dr. William A. Hammond s Lai is at once an enjoyment and a surprise 
 though why an eminent physician, and one of broad culture and literary attain 
 ments, should not write a vigorous and successful novel if he sets his hand and 
 mind to it is more than we can say, except that many have been called but few 
 shown themselves chosen. The wild surroundings of mountain and mining life 
 in the West are boldly gathered about Dr. Hammond s heroine, and the Polish 
 patriot, representing the refining influences of European civilization, is brought 
 into fine relief in his isolation amid such savage scenery and flemi-eavage exist 
 ence. "Independent. 
 
 41 The scenes in Lai suggest the scenes in Bret Harte s stories. Dr. Ham 
 mond has journeyed through the country where Ilarte found his rough-diamond 
 heroes. He has done more than journey through it ; he has lived in it, suffered 
 its hardships, studied its characters, and acquainted himself with all its pict 
 uresque oddities. He writes, therefore, from his own point of view, and it is 
 quite true that his point of view is his own. His method is in no tense imita 
 tive. Dr. Hammond is too aggressive and too brilliantly able to be an imitator, 
 even when he is treading on the ground of another. Lai is a vigorous, well- 
 written, stimulating work." GBORGE EDGAR MONTGOMERY, in New York World. 
 
 12mo, cloth. Price, $1.8O. 
 New York : D. APPLETON & CO., 1, 3, & 5 Bond Street. 
 
DR. HAMMOND S NOVELS. 3 
 
 DP, GRATTAN. 
 
 A Novel. 
 
 BY DR. WILLIAM A. HAMMOND. 
 
 FOURTH EDITION NOW BEADY. 
 
 SOME OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 ONE OPINION. 
 
 " Dr. Grattan, by William A. Hammond, a novel in which a noisy 
 style, cheap learning, and physiological jugglery combine to swamp the 
 story and leave the reader in doubt whether he has brought enough away 
 to warrant the trouble he was forced to take to get the treasure." Atlantic 
 Monthly. 
 
 SOME OTHER AND DIFFERENT OPINIONS. 
 
 " And it is not pleasant, in such a generally fair and helpful review as 
 that of * Books of the Month ( Atlantic Monthly ), to stumble on such an 
 unfair and misleading judgment as is given of Dr. Hammond s last novel." 
 Literary World (Boston). 
 
 " Dr. Hammond is earning a conspicuous place among our American 
 novelists, as well by the rapidity with which he writes as by the ability 
 with which he portrays anomalous mental states and conditions. His new 
 novel, Doctor Grattan, ministers to the curiosity and entertainment of the 
 reader, while putting him in possession of some highly interesting informa 
 tion derived from the author s professional experience. Its scene is laid at 
 the foot of the Adirondacks, fine descriptions of which, and of the forest 
 and village life in and around them, are given in the course of the narra 
 tive. As the story unfolds, close and very charming glimpses are given of 
 the household life and the frank and loving comradeship of Doctor Grattan 
 and his energetic and beautiful daughter, who soon become prominent act 
 ors in the drama, but toward whom we are drawn with a feeling of cordial 
 interest even before we are invited to witness the incidents and companion 
 ships that later on introduced new influences into their secluded lives, and 
 invested them with a glamour of mystery and romance. The story em 
 bodies two cleverly developed love stories, which are told with great 
 straightforwardness and refreshing freedom from tantalizing eventualities." 
 Harper s Monthly. 
 
4 DR. HAMMOND S NOVELS. 
 
 "Dr. Hammond constructs the plot of this story with the skill and ap 
 parent ease of the veteran novelist. He deals mainly in improbabilities, 
 but he manages to give to these the semblance of reality by the minutely 
 circumstantial manner in which the story is related. His coolness and ac 
 curacy of statement overcome all doubt as to the fact he is giving. We 
 have the exact hour and minute of an occurrence, as if the good doctor were 
 standing by with his watch in his hand. Particulars are given us even 
 where a general statement would have been all that we could reasonably 
 have asked for. This impresses the mind of the reader with a sense of the 
 author s accurate knowledge and unswerving allegiance to the truth. . . . 
 The book is written in a style clear, vigorous, and direct. The language 
 is free from technicalities which, from the nature of the case, might have 
 been looked for. Evidently the author aims to secure readers, and he does 
 not hesitate to employ legitimate means to that end. He shows such care 
 as respect for his readers requires, and only that. He is cramped by no 
 pettiness or squeamishness. He succeeds as well in the telling of his story 
 as in the contrivance of its plot." Boston, Evening Transcript. 
 
 " Doctor Grattan is really a capital book. It is a novel with the 
 scene laid in America, yet not an * American novel as we know that prod 
 uct, for which Mr. Hammond (like the hero of 4 The Witch s Head ) ex 
 presses his open contempt. The interest of the story lies in the question 
 as to whether Mr. Lamar, the father of the heroine, has been a slave-dealer 
 for many years of his life, or whether he has merely brooded on the subject 
 till he has imagined that he has dealt in human merchandise. The prob 
 lem is most cleverly worked out, and it would be unfair to Mr. Hammond 
 to disclose the solution. Doctor Grattan himself is a pleasant, practical 
 man, who makes an excellent and original hero. But Mr. Hammond must 
 be congratulated on his women." Saturday Review (London). 
 
 12mo, cloth. Price, $1.SO. 
 New York: D. APPLETON & CO., 1, 3, & 6 Bond Street. 
 
 D. APPLETON & Co. WILL PUBLISH EARLY IN THE AUTUMN 
 
 A STRONG-MINDED WOMAN ; or, TWO YEARS AFTER, 
 
 A Sequel to " Lai." 
 
 By WILLIAM A. HAMMOND, M. D., 
 AUTHOR or "LAL," "DOCTOR GRATTAN," "MR. OLDMIXON," ETC. 
 
YB 739 
 
 U.C.BERKELEY LIBRARIES 
 
 101767